D&D 5E Al-Qadim Moving Through the Flame
Husam quietly listens to the idle talk of the oasis. A part of him wants to see the swimming hole that Nimar's men so wistfully speak of. He had never had much opportunity to swim except when his work took him through the muck of the sewers below which might help his technique but certainly never provided fond memories.
However, Husam was not ignorant.
He knew there would be no time for frivolities. Hakim Oasis was said to be burned and its inhabitants presumed dead. Each passing day brings the criminals who flaunt their disregard for the sheik's wisdom and rule closer to judgment. Once justice's debt had been filled, he would find time to swim.
Later that evening, Husam sits tending the fire and watches the prince begin to construct his mechanical toy. "May the evening winds bring you favor, noble prince. Your work is fascinating. I have seen carved baubles in the bazaar, but I've never seen something so finely detailed made of metal. Where did you learn your craft?"
However, Husam was not ignorant.
He knew there would be no time for frivolities. Hakim Oasis was said to be burned and its inhabitants presumed dead. Each passing day brings the criminals who flaunt their disregard for the sheik's wisdom and rule closer to judgment. Once justice's debt had been filled, he would find time to swim.
Later that evening, Husam sits tending the fire and watches the prince begin to construct his mechanical toy. "May the evening winds bring you favor, noble prince. Your work is fascinating. I have seen carved baubles in the bazaar, but I've never seen something so finely detailed made of metal. Where did you learn your craft?"
Quickleaf
Legend
The nomads of House Bakr explain that you will reach Hakim Oasis by nightfall of the fourth day since leaving Tajar.
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Husam is not the only one to take note of the prince's tinkering.
Amina, filling her gourd from the water carried on one of the pack camels, notices the activity from a little ways away and steps closer to get a better look. Her hand goes to a small object she keeps in a pocket; a lump amidst the layers of cloth that enfold her.
You see how he dances, jewel? I have put my love for you into him, and all he can do now is dance.
The earth opens up beneath her feet and she falls... Down into a darkness deeper than any shadow or secret, beyond the reach of any god or goddess. There she cannot breathe or move or make a sound. The only feeling is the towering absence, like a devouring void inside her.
hakiya, i beg; shine a light on my path
There was no magic moment though, no cathartic epiphany. By inches she clawed her way to the surface of her grief, then on top of it. It had been a long time now since some little thing had reminded her of who she'd lost. Long enough she'd forgotten how it made her skin ache, and her hands shake a little. Finally though, she opened her eyes.
The little toy man was farther along now, and the differences were clearer. Her father had made his tiny figurines move with magic. This looked like a thing of springs and gears. That made it easier.
She drifted forward, noting Husam's question, but not adding any of her own. She was content to watch the work for now.
Amina, filling her gourd from the water carried on one of the pack camels, notices the activity from a little ways away and steps closer to get a better look. Her hand goes to a small object she keeps in a pocket; a lump amidst the layers of cloth that enfold her.
You see how he dances, jewel? I have put my love for you into him, and all he can do now is dance.
The earth opens up beneath her feet and she falls... Down into a darkness deeper than any shadow or secret, beyond the reach of any god or goddess. There she cannot breathe or move or make a sound. The only feeling is the towering absence, like a devouring void inside her.
hakiya, i beg; shine a light on my path
There was no magic moment though, no cathartic epiphany. By inches she clawed her way to the surface of her grief, then on top of it. It had been a long time now since some little thing had reminded her of who she'd lost. Long enough she'd forgotten how it made her skin ache, and her hands shake a little. Finally though, she opened her eyes.
The little toy man was farther along now, and the differences were clearer. Her father had made his tiny figurines move with magic. This looked like a thing of springs and gears. That made it easier.
She drifted forward, noting Husam's question, but not adding any of her own. She was content to watch the work for now.
Harun looked up, grinning, "I was riding out in the desert, lost and alone for all but my horse. Nearly dead, I was found by an old wise man who took me in to his cave. It was full of wonderful creatures such as this one, and I begged him to teach me. He made me work for him, as a slave, for a year and a day before teaching me the secrets of how to make metal move with a life of its own."
To any listening, or searching for the truth of his words, he seems utterly truthful. Even magic wouldn't be able to catch the lie, if there were any. Indeed, some, or even all, of this story may be true.
Sent from my iPhone using EN World
To any listening, or searching for the truth of his words, he seems utterly truthful. Even magic wouldn't be able to catch the lie, if there were any. Indeed, some, or even all, of this story may be true.
Sent from my iPhone using EN World
Ancalagon
Dusty Dragon
Lal sits down at the fire for a moment, and watches Harun work on his mechanical wonder. After a moment, he chimes in
"Back in the Purple Lands, the slugmen of the Yellow City ever thirst for knowledge, and cleverly devised clockwork servants so that they would have to work less and not have to feed their slaves anymore. But the clockwork servants were fragile things with little wits. So they built better ones of stronger metals, and bound souls to them to power their magic. These were enormous - twice the height of a man and 10 times the strength, wondrous and terrible. But they were far too precious, too costly and too... potent... to use as mere servants. So in the end, nothing changed- the slugmen are still served by slaves they have to feed. Such are things in the Purple Lands".
"You seem to have surpassed them"
"Back in the Purple Lands, the slugmen of the Yellow City ever thirst for knowledge, and cleverly devised clockwork servants so that they would have to work less and not have to feed their slaves anymore. But the clockwork servants were fragile things with little wits. So they built better ones of stronger metals, and bound souls to them to power their magic. These were enormous - twice the height of a man and 10 times the strength, wondrous and terrible. But they were far too precious, too costly and too... potent... to use as mere servants. So in the end, nothing changed- the slugmen are still served by slaves they have to feed. Such are things in the Purple Lands".
"You seem to have surpassed them"
Quickleaf
Legend
[SBLOCK=Travel Map]
[/SBLOCK]
Day 4 - Hakim Oasis
Ajan bin Najon al-Yaqud – nephew to the Sheikh, cousin to Akilah, man with the mismatched eyes – leads you from the old qalat (fortified tower) come daybreak. He is wise to follow the wadi (dry river bed of an intermittent stream). It provides you some degree of cover, however sparse, from the hot winds frequent on this side of the Al-Yabki mountains. The camels also find it easier going along the silt than the rocks, making good time.
Sinjin, Salahuddin’s ever-present towering genie valet, chuckles when the clockwork Ahseem gets tangled with a flock of songbirds which don't know what to do with the little scout. The songbirds are sign that you draw close to the oasis. Ahseem returns to Harun’s side a bit frazzled, twittering nervously in a mechanical sing-song…however it is not immediately soothed, continuing to twitter in a high-pitched tone.
The sun is setting as you approach Hakim Oasis, with its pond reflecting the amber sunlight, and creating a momentary mirroring reflection in its glassy waters. Partially buried in the sands and scattered amidst the rocks are scraps of burnt leather and charred bones. A flock of songbirds circles above the water, while the grackling cry of vultures is audible deeper in the oasis, the only sound piercing the silence of sunset…
Day 4 - Hakim Oasis
Ajan bin Najon al-Yaqud – nephew to the Sheikh, cousin to Akilah, man with the mismatched eyes – leads you from the old qalat (fortified tower) come daybreak. He is wise to follow the wadi (dry river bed of an intermittent stream). It provides you some degree of cover, however sparse, from the hot winds frequent on this side of the Al-Yabki mountains. The camels also find it easier going along the silt than the rocks, making good time.
Sinjin, Salahuddin’s ever-present towering genie valet, chuckles when the clockwork Ahseem gets tangled with a flock of songbirds which don't know what to do with the little scout. The songbirds are sign that you draw close to the oasis. Ahseem returns to Harun’s side a bit frazzled, twittering nervously in a mechanical sing-song…however it is not immediately soothed, continuing to twitter in a high-pitched tone.
The sun is setting as you approach Hakim Oasis, with its pond reflecting the amber sunlight, and creating a momentary mirroring reflection in its glassy waters. Partially buried in the sands and scattered amidst the rocks are scraps of burnt leather and charred bones. A flock of songbirds circles above the water, while the grackling cry of vultures is audible deeper in the oasis, the only sound piercing the silence of sunset…
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Harun nods his head at Lal in acknowledgement of the compliment and continued his work.
"They have often been my truest companions. I have no fear they will harm me...or betray me." For a moment, his ever present facade slips as his eyes unfocus, seeming to remember some lost past pain.
Or he could be faking, for a moment later, he was smiling again.
Later....
The hot sun beats down, but Harun is used to this. Harun smiles as his clockwork hawk returns to him. "What is wrong, little Ahseem?" He says to his Hawk, the clockwork Pseudodragon in his pack not yet done. "Surely you can handle a few songbirds."
Sent from my iPad using EN World
"They have often been my truest companions. I have no fear they will harm me...or betray me." For a moment, his ever present facade slips as his eyes unfocus, seeming to remember some lost past pain.
Or he could be faking, for a moment later, he was smiling again.
Later....
The hot sun beats down, but Harun is used to this. Harun smiles as his clockwork hawk returns to him. "What is wrong, little Ahseem?" He says to his Hawk, the clockwork Pseudodragon in his pack not yet done. "Surely you can handle a few songbirds."
Sent from my iPad using EN World
Quickleaf
Legend
Ajan’s men lead the camels to the watering hole, while the rogues merilly splash their faces and each other with water, their multitonal laughter echoing across the oasis. However, Husam and Harun – accustomed to desert travel as they are – find it odd that the songbirds keep a safe distance from the pond, and that there is precious little sign of animal life save for a few beetles. Water is life. Something is amiss.
Akilah and her loyal handmaiden only have a second forewarning as a massive amorphous shadow shifts under the pond’s surface.
The pond’s surface roils, sending one of Nimar’s rogues stumbling backward in terror, falling into a camel, which takes off in a panic, trampling over one of Ajan’s men. Seven serpentine heads arise from the pond, baleful yellow-green eyes staring down as they loom 15 feet overhead, water cascading onto your party from the hungry heads above. They are mauve colored, like the sunset stretching across Hakim Oasis, and boast scales as thick as lamellar (scale armor). Two of the heads reflexively snap at the prone rogue, one tearing his boot off, and the other sending him sliding across the muddy bank of the pond.
Steam roils off its hideous contorted form as the monstrosity attacks!
Akilah and her loyal handmaiden only have a second forewarning as a massive amorphous shadow shifts under the pond’s surface.
The pond’s surface roils, sending one of Nimar’s rogues stumbling backward in terror, falling into a camel, which takes off in a panic, trampling over one of Ajan’s men. Seven serpentine heads arise from the pond, baleful yellow-green eyes staring down as they loom 15 feet overhead, water cascading onto your party from the hungry heads above. They are mauve colored, like the sunset stretching across Hakim Oasis, and boast scales as thick as lamellar (scale armor). Two of the heads reflexively snap at the prone rogue, one tearing his boot off, and the other sending him sliding across the muddy bank of the pond.
Steam roils off its hideous contorted form as the monstrosity attacks!
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