D&D 5E Al-Qadim Moving Through the Flame

[Quickleaf]

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Contemplating the sha'ir's words, Sheikh Ali runs a hand through his beard, his gaze rising from the map stretched across the war table. He is taking measure of this Salahuddin, but the pure fact that Salahuddin stands in the Sheikh's throne room speaks volumes of the Citadel of Ice and Steel's reach even here in the land of ins (mortals). Genies make the Sheikh unsteady, and Salahuddin's nearness to that race born of smokeless flame (or so sayeth the poets) even moreso. Yet if there are troubles brewing among the jann, it is precisely Salahuddin's type of knowledge that the expedition will need. Remaining silent, the Sheikh listens to Najiyah's words with a bowed head, nodding quietly to himself as his eyes return to the map.

"We can't rule out that it is jann who've allegiance to the efreet, but neither can we assume it is. Well said, Najiyah." He also sees an emerging pattern, but is disturbed by it. Pursing his lips, the Sheikh continues gazing at the map as if he might have a sudden flash of divine insight if he stared at it long enough. "Indeed, Salahuddin al-Qadib, these are bold claims. White robes, you say? Hmm. You seem to know more than most of the merchants my aides have spoken with about who is behind these raids."

"Ah, that reminds me..." Finding the bowl of salt on the table, the Sheikh consumes a sprinkle, tossing the rest habitually over his shoulder - a warding gesture carried down from the al-Badia. He passes the bowl among you, sharing the bond of salt, that universal sign of guest hospitality known throughout Zakhara.

"Akilah?" The Sheikh beckons his vizier in temporal matters to his side. "There are several merchants you may wish to speak with in the bazaar who've encountered these black-robed raiders... There is a woman known only as Jina the Bold who operates a small but specialized trading firra (firm) between the Pearl Cities and Pantheist League; she deals in antiquities with many tribes of the High Desert and isn't known for her honesty."

"Then there is Suelasta the Magnificent, who received my writ to create a menagerie of wondrous creatures from across the land by the riverside. Several creatures bound for Suelasta's menagerie were taken by the raiders in transport for reasons unknown. The poor man is quite distraught."

"And another merchant I recall, Hamsar the Swift, operates funerary caravans and mourners for the noble families of Tajar. Such vile and low morals, these raiders, that they would attack a funeral! What honor can be found in stealing from the dead?"
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[Shayuri]

Amina listened, hands folded and head down, to the others deliberate. She had not yet taken food or drink, and participated in the salt ceremony simply by pressing a fingertip to the salt and then putting it to her lips for a moment. Her attention was on the map.

It was not honor the raiders were looking for, of course. The question posed was rhetorical, to encapsulate the Sheikh's outrage. But it did pose an interesting corollary question. If not honor, what were they after? Because he was right, after a fashion. These were not normal targets for bandit raids.

Tribal antiquities. Magical beasts. Personal possessions to be buried with the dead.

Ankabut was not a woman with great formal training or scholastics. She had a very particular set of skills, perfected over a long career. Outside concerns were things she rarely had time for. But to stalk intelligent prey one had to get into their heads. One had to see patterns of behavior. There was a pattern here, though she did not see the connections yet.

It didn't help that there was a ghostly desire, buzzing in the back of her head, to ask about the sea mages. Were they still in Tajar? It was a vanity, Ankabut knew. An echo of a life she'd ended. Would they know though? If she asked, would they be able to tell?

Ugh. Focus. Discipline. She was not a novice any longer, struggling to keep the initiate vows. Ankabut brought up her list in her mind, visualizing it precisely as it had been the moment before it was burned. There was the focus she'd sought.

She looked up at Akilah then. The other Vizier had not yet spoken, even to acknowledge her assignment. The sort of person she was would have a great impact on Ankabut's ability to work. It was a little frustrating to not have a read on her yet. A little more time, she decided, before she had to try to provoke some kind of reaction to gauge her by.

 

[Jago]

Curious. Very curious. The Badu al-Kabir seemed to be the likely source of these raids, however: Nothing could live there. Even the mightiest of House Nasr preferred to stay away from that dead land. An Al-Hadhar had once tried to inform Kaniel that the Al-Badia loved the desert. This was simply not true. While they greatly respected their home and its lands, they did not love it. No man loved the desert. Even the Al-Badia loved water, and green trees. There was nothing in the desert, and no man needs nothing.

The exception to this was the Efreet. The Efreet loved the desert, like no mortal ever could, and if, if they were truly involved in these raids, it would make sense that they would base themselves in such an inhospitable place. The Efreet were quite territorial, it was true: It was not uncommon for Mamluk patrols or Al-Badia riders to skirmish with them, but to demand so much in tribute that the bearers must resort to banditry? Did that brass City not provide enough wealth?

" This makes ... relatively little sense," Kaniel stated flatly, right before the salt was placed before him.

He grinned a bit upon seeing the small ritual that the Sheikh partook, replicating it when he consecrated The Bond of Salt. As the grains skittered to the floor behind him, He found that he cared not if others would judge him as a "simple" desert dweller: if it was good enough for the ruler of Tajar, it was good enough for a simple servant of The Caliph. With the sharp taste of salt upon his tongue, Kaniel continued his line of thought.

" Tribute is not tribute if it comes from these sources. No mortal or jann would dare accept such a gift, lest they would invite the Vengeance of The Gods. Tribute ... I do not think this is about mere wealth, if you will allow my opinion, Son of Hamid," Kaniel asked of Salahuddin, " But raids such as this are sometimes used by Mamluk. Strike fast, strike hard, strike indiscriminately, like a Sandstorm, and throw your enemy into disarray. Look at us now! Even we struggle to identify their true goals."

He frowned, his tusks biting gently into his mustache. Kaniel was accustomed to not knowing much of his foes: The Valiant often fought things which had no names in the Enlightened tongue. However, it did not mean he enjoyed it.

" Though the black-robed assailants ..."

The Half-Orc lost his voice for a moment, his yellow eyes gazing towards a far wall and staying there. A night of blood, and fire. Of the Desert Mosque, its proud walls in dark danger. Of black robes spewing fire.

" These ... these black robes," he continued on, faltering at first before finding his voice once more, " They are the very same that your Vizier, Gracious Sheikh, was accused of wearing. Najiyah was untruthfully named as a member of a Brotherhood."

Kaniel recalled the words of the siblings: the boiling anger of the brother, the calm wind of the sister. How wronged they had been.

" A Brotherhood of Flame. Your humble Mamluk suggests that if Efreet are involved, if this Brotherhood is involved, if these attacks are connected, and if this servant of The Gods were leading such dastardly affronts (May Najm lose me in The Haunted Lands should I ever become so irredeemable)?"

The Half-Orc's green finger struck the map, below the Sinna, west of the Hakim.

" That is where I would roam. Far from Tajar, far from the jann of Qaybar, beyond a man's ability to carry water and salt. For no man loves the desert, but those who love fire would bear that burn if it suited their purposes."

He withdrew his touch, leaning back and sipping slowly from the refreshing, cool drink in his other hand. Inclining his head in respect, he finished with a softer tone.

" Your merchants here may know far more than we here, in these walls, could ever hope to. I would accompany Vizier Akilah should she speak with these entrepreneurs, which I suggest we do, with deference to the Wisdom of a Priestess of Hakiyah."

 

[Thateous]

Akilah weighs the many suggestions and conversations happening around her. " If this meeting concludes in a reasonable amount of time then I shall visit these merchants tonight while doing my usual rounds as to not raise too much suspicion. Any who are willing may join and experience the city of Tajar at night. I'm sure your travels have taken some toll on you, so you will not offend if you choose to pass."

 

[VLAD the Destroyer]

Salahuddin accepts the salt and takes a pinch. He places his fingers to his lips to complete the ritual. With the ritual complete Salahuddin contemplates what Kaniel has said. The Mamluk had a point about this not being about mere wealth. Individual Efreet might be after wealth in jewels, art and oddities but as a whole they are not swayed by wealth. An Efreet is more concerned with power and dominance. Slaves would be a more preferred tribute over gold. But they might be searching for something. Magical treasure would fetch a fair price in the bazaars and markets of the City of Brass. Where the half Orc was wrong was thinking the Efreet would not accept tribute for fear of the gods vengeance. The genie and especially the Efreet see themselves as almost equal to the gods. No fear of retribution would sway them if they sought some special tribute or treasure.

"Tribute may have been a poor choice of words. You are correct that the Efreet have no pressing desire for riches. Dominance and slaves are a more driving need for the fire genies. But I do not think these raids are distractions or misdirection. The Brotherhood of True Flame is behind these raids. I know for certain that The Brotherhood is using these raiders to gather something. They used whatever this treasure was to gain something from the Efreet."

Salahuddin looks at the map and the spot in the middle oh the High Desert. It made some sense but the Efreet liked their slaves, their palaces, and their strongholds. However if a noble Efreet was here then he could build a stronghold anywhere in a matter of days. There were to many questions.

"We need answers to some of these questions. Let us hope these merchants have some for us and not just more questions."

 

[Quickleaf]

[SECTION]Running his thumb under his lower lip, Sheikh Ali nods in quiet agreement. "I do not envy you such a task. And I must contend with a city brimming with merchants! If there are no more questions of me, and none wish to speak with my eloquent rawuna (bard) Dulcet Riqqiyah, whose kettle overflows with words," the Sheikh chuckles as he kindly hints at his court rawuna's propensity for bursting into sudden storytelling, "then I shall have the three of you swear upon my blade." He levels a serious gaze to Kaniel, Amina, and finally Salahuddin.

For the moment, the Sheikh waits to see if there are further questions or requests of him before the meeting draws to a close.[/SECTION]

 

[Quickleaf]

[SECTION]"Very well. Kaniel, Amina, Salahuddin. Come. Kneel here," Sheikh Ali steps away from the war table, gesturing to the open center of the throne room. He draws forth the old shamsir at his side, its blade long, thin, wickedly curved, the luster of the metal dark; then, holding it lengthwise with two fingers under the blade and his palm under the hilt, he faces you.

"Kaniel ibn-Faruq. Will you swear upon this blade, forged in service to the Grand Caliph, all praise upon him, that you will serve the Enlightened Throne above all others, and that you will be a scourge to those who raid the caravans of his most effulgent cities?" As with all things of his reign, the Sheikh's traditions are a blend of al-Badia oath-swearing with the customs of court.

"Amina al-Din, servant of Hakiyah. Will you swear upon this blade, forged in service to the Great Gods, may they smile upon us, that you will serve the Enlightened Throne above all others, and that you will be a true aide to my trusted vizier Akilah in seeking the truth?" In the old ways, kissing the blade upon swearing would be called for, with the superstition that the metal would store the energy of the oath, and should the oath-swearer be untrue the blade would blacken where their lips met it.

"Salahuddin ibn-Hamid, emissary of the djinn. Will you swear upon this blade, forged by the very hands of the jann, who know wonders beyond mortal comprehension, that you will serve the Enlightened Throne above all others, above even the Great Caliph of the Djinn, and that you will strive to make peace between genie and mortal man?" There is no magic in the oath, beyond what the minds of mortals place in such pledges of allegiance, and yet the old blade carries a spiritual weight of many lips which have kissed its surface over the years. Perhaps it has tasted more of kissing than of blood.
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GM: Btw [MENTION=6855130]Jago[/MENTION] the shamsir is like a rapier except it deals slashing damage (25 gp, 1d8 slashing damage, finesse, 2 lbs). The Western equivalent is a saber. You may upgrade your scimitar to a shamsir. I forgot to mention earlier.

 

[Foxbytes]

Though her hands remained tucked unseen within the voluminous sleeves of her caftan, Najiyah's lips began to move in a near-inaudible incantation.

As each of the three, individually and at their turn, leaned forward to touch their lips to the blade to seal the oath, a warm glow surged through the dark metal of the shamsir, bursting against the crossguard into a shower of harmless sparks around the Sheikh's hand.

Najiyah's eyes glanced away and skyward with a bit of mischief in her smile, ever unable to resist the guilty pleasure of mating exhibition to ritual.

 

[Shayuri]

Amina goes to kiss the blade of the sword. She had already sworn oaths in far sterner inks, with much firmer consequences of breaking...but since Grandmother served the Grand Caliph, this oath was no conflict.

When the little magical fireworks went off, she gave Najiyah a silently reproachful look, and retreated to stand behind Akilah, face down and hands folded together.

 

[Jago]

Kaniel bit gently into his lower lip, wondering just where Salahuddin's information came from. He knew, for certain, that the Brotherhood of True Flame controlled these bandits? It was a bold claim to make, and if the sha'ir was correct, then they had quite the fight ahead of them. The Sea Mage Siblings would want to be informed as well, but not before the assembled knew who, exactly, they were setting off for. It made the Half-Orc tense, the same tension he would feel before a fight.

These thoughts were put aside as the Sheikh encouraged him to come forth, Kaniel dropping before The Sheikh. There was apprehension as those yellow eyes looked up towards a powerful man of the Al-Badia: Kaniel had once sworn a similar oath. A promise he had resolutely broken, leading to punishment, self-exile. Slavery, slavery for one of The Eagle! A slavery he now worked within with no complaint, no will to carve apart his captors and return home!

But home to where? Back to House Nasr, House Nasr whom he abandoned after pledging to be their eternal warrior, to defend The Desert Mosque as his father, and his father's father before him had done?

The shamshir before him carried all this weight, all this power, for Ali Al-Hadd invoked the old ways, his words stirred up the feelings of the Desert Rider Kaniel was born to be. This Oath, this oath now, would be held upon the Half-Orc's life.

" Min qibal alalihat, ldhlk yjb'an yakun. Sayfi hu alaintiqam. Sayfi hu alhafaz."
" By the Gods, so shall it be. My sword is to vengeance; My sword is to preserve."

His pale green lips pressed to the sharpened steel ... And almost immediately Kaniel cut himself upon the edge, drawing back in surprise at the sudden burst of flame in front of his face. Wildly his gaze darted aback until it settled upon the Genie Vizier looking absolutely innocent. His heavy features curled perceptively upwards, suppressing a laugh for the severity of the situation: It was not a true oath unless there was some danger involved in swearing it, no?

With that, he moved backwards to allow the last of their number to swear to their commitment, and then they would be bonded: The Five of them would set out to save Zakhara once again from a new, deadly threat. ~