Azar was normally... a light sleeper. She'd learned to be over the past few years. So, when her door reeled open and the guards marched inside, she was already leaping to her feet. The good things didn't last. They never did. She stood there, robe gathered about her and fists clenched as she listened to the Imit's - or rather, his servant's - accusation. You stupid, lying maggot, she thought, but her eyes turned not to Mamuno, but rather to the servant girl. Her temperature rose. Flames quietly licked and writhed along her skin.
For a moment, Azar was about to angrily protest her innocence in the traditional way. She had not done the deed, of course, even though she'd briefly considered it. Yet - Damn it! - she knew a setup for what it was. She knew it because... in other capacities, she had done nearly the same thing. She glared unflinchingly at the servant through a gap between two of the guards' heads and her rage built. She let out a quick, angry snort from her nostrils and her gaze flicked Mamuno's way. "Your worship," she admitted, struggling to keep her tone composed and just about succeeding, "If you have your men check this room right now, you will almost certainly find jewellery stolen from this household." Her chest heaved with anger and anxiety. Her fists clenched so tightly that they hurt. Lying bitch! screamed a voice within her. Burn her to ash! Make her suffer! Some of that anger even leaked over onto the Imit himself, but she had enough of a primary target that she could deflect it - hide it. "I cannot say where: maybe even under the pillow, if this thief or her accomplices were stupid. Unless they are merely trying to frame me out of personal vendetta, there will be more that they do not find."
Azar took a couple of steps forward, but no more. If she could get around the guards... if she could, her mind's eye visualized what she would do, how she would burn this lying wretch alive, how the girl would scream and beg for mercy and regret her ploy in her final moments. The ayiralite's hands trembled with fury. She unclenched and clenched them again. "I say this because I have done it. I am ashamed to admit that I have not always followed the Gods well, may they offer me mercy, but I would not abuse the generosity of a gracious and - more importantly - powerful host." Azar shook her head. "It is the oldest trick in the book, your worship, and a man of your wisdom should well know it." It killed her, grovelling like this, but something within her burned with a desire to be exonerated, to see the one who deserved it and not herself be punished. Then, everything else could rot, for all she cared. She spread her hands. "You sssteeeaal something," she hissed, eyes locked on the cowering servant girl. "When you find a guest who looks... conveniently untrustworthy." Her voice slithered and snapped like a snake's. She paused and her tone changed for a moment as she glanced toward the Imit. "And let's be honest: I look like a thieving wretch; I well know it. Then," Azar concluded, raising a pointer in the air, a lick of flame flaring from its tip, "you blame that innocent person for what you or your accomplices did. Profit!" she snarled.
She began to draw, then, from the plane, fire and fury filling her veins. "I am not your enemy," she began evenly, "Truly, and I make no claims to whatever you may find in this room, but should anyone seek to harm my person, the ayiralite warned, her eyes flashing at the guards like those of a very dangerous, very cornered animal, "I will return his violence thousandfold!"
The servant at point shivered with fright, eyes flickering to her master and then back to the seething jinnblood before them all. The guards were uneasy, even as they held their stern, unyielding expressions and shuffled not even a foot one attentive enough could see that they were perturbed by the rising anger of the fiery creature before them. The flames that crackled and kissed against her wrists and spouted from the tips of her fingers were reminiscent of a volcano about to burst at the top. The men clenched at the shafts of their weapons, they wiggled their toes in their sandals and slight heaves of their shoulders and chests could be scene as they struggled to maintain their composure. They were sworn to protect the Imit and any visible weakness was a betrayal of their duties, not to mention possible encouragement for this Ayiralite to try something.
Mamuno had to admit that even he felt his heartbeat climbing as he prepared to address the little speech that his guest made in her defense. He stayed behind his guards but stepped forth in slight, the cowering servant taking the opportunity to slip around behind him. In truth she wanted nothing more but to bolt from the room with each passing moment as she watched the jinnblood grow more and more angry.
Mamuno inhaled slightly to try and suppress the tightness in his chest, forcing a self-assured smile as he responded to Azar, choosing his words delicately, “You certainly do seem steadfast in your innocence in this matter. Perhaps you are indeed innocent, and perhaps you have prepared this little scene in advance as you knew that one of my servants might find anything of value tucked away in this room and tell me of it. This is after all a simple guest chamber and not a place to find my most valuable of treasures. Or even the least valuable of them.”
Mamuno stroked at his chin, letting his first words set before continuing, “Now, let us indeed see if there is anything of value tucked away in this room. Anything that has been stolen.”
With a hand signal from the Imit one of the guards on the far side of the room stepped forward slowly, eyes at the back of Azar, ready for any sudden movements as he reached one hand down towards the guest bed. A quick flinging of the pillows revealed what was to be expected one could say. A handful of golden jewelry lay clustered together where Azar’s head had been moments before. Five rings adorned with rubies and a slender rope chain necklace with a matching pair of earrings. Glares from the other guards as they readied themselves for their masters’ call to arms even as their blood ran cold and hot. The man who made the discovery scooped up the stolen jewelry and stepped back, holding them for the moment.
Mamuno maintained his calm, unbending image as he continued, “So, did you steal those? Or were they placed there by another?” Mamuno turned towards the servant who was rattling in fear behind him, “You have served me for all your life, you have never stolen from me or did other ill acts in my house. I know this.” The servant weakly nodded, a hopeful glimmer in her eyes as she saw that she had her masters’ protection of assurance.
Mamuno turned back to Azar, “Why would the very servants who have the privilege and comfort of serving me within the shade and grandeur of my palace dare do ill of any guests I had invited? I see no cause for any personal vendetta against a stranger such as yourself, Azar. My guards and lifelong servants all are obedient to me no matter my command and never would commit any such transgressions against their master. Only the frightened woman here at my back ever entered this room and it was she that found the pilfered items under your pillow before you slept.”
“Wait!”
Mamuno turned to face the woman at his back, her face glistened with sweat and her eyes bulged with fear and what looked to also be a touch of uncertainty. “It was him,” the woman shot out one finger to point across the room at the guard opposite the one gripping the stolen valuables, “he gave me those things and told me to put them under her pillow! I asked why and he threatened to accuse me of stealing them myself if I did not do as told!”
“You lie!” the guard screamed back as all eyes turned to him.
Mamuno’s eyes narrowed as looked at the servant who shook harder than before, sweat pouring down her dark form as her lips quivered and her eyes grew wild, “I don’t want to die! I won’t! Not like this, not for this!”
“She lies,” the guard repeated, “I would not steal nor would I abscond upon a guest in this palace!”
“And I would not steal!” the servant screeched back at the guard, tears now flowing, “But it was you that handed me those things and forced me to hide them in here! I swear it on the great Maatrho!”
“This is the lies of a thief! That or some plot by this fire-blood!” the guard roared, his face growing red. The other men were dumbfounded, glances moving back and forth from their master to their comrade and then to each other and back again.
“Azar,” Mamuno spoke up, “what say you in this? The servant now breaks accusing the guard - after accusing you. Is she a desperate liar and a poor thief? Or has one of my men betrayed me and is using a hapless servant for some ill cause? Or perhaps this is some plot on your part - do you use your wit and wiles to turn my people against me?”
The guard in questions’ face grew redder and his searing expression sharper as he stared into the eyes of the servant behind the Imit who was a mix of terrified and indignant.
A. Intimidation Check (Accused Guard) (Charisma + Intimidation) B. Perception Check (Mamuno) (Wisdom + Perception) C. Attack (Accused Guard) D. Attack (Everyone-Battle)
Namihra’s eyes narrowed at the Zemida’s interjection, losing any respect she might have had for the man. She had little tolerance for games and unnecessary competition. Especially when such competition could prove deadly. His addition also made no sense. He was looking to increase his numbers to further his own goals of conquest of the sarin. What could he gain from one willing volunteer killing off another in the hopes of a larger bounty? Her distrust of the man grew.
The possibility of her new partner turning on her had crossed her mind of course, but the other woman’s cheery disposition left Namihra doubtful of whether she would come to such a conclusion on her own. With Naakesh’s final comment however, it was almost certain the thought would now be in her mind.
After the ratham dismissed them, Namihra wasted no time turning her back on the men and walking away. It was only after she was well clear of the Zemida’s throne room that she approached the other woman.
“Kashvi, was it? Despite what Naakesh said in there, I think the desert is dangerous enough that it would be worth more to both of us to stick together on this one. Especially since it’s unclear why his men have gone silent. We have no idea what we’d be walking in on. If you agree, we might meet at the inn for drinks, and cross reference the map the ratham provided you with one I own.” Namihra kept her voice pleasant, but internally she was focused hard on the woman’s reaction to gauge whether the innocence she exuded was just a convenient façade.
Even if Kashvi agreed to travel together, it didn’t mean she wouldn’t turn on Namihra after they had located the Zemida’s men so that she could reap the larger reward. That would be a problem for the future, though. First, she needed to assess whether the woman was a current threat.
- Shift
--
Kashvi smiled warmly at Namihra, her apparent partner as they exited the audience chamber and passed by several large leafed palms that waved softly in the breeze. It was a relief that her apparent partner apparently didn’t consider a dangerous trek into the desert to be some kind of a game that benefited from competition. It was also apparent that there were a lot of uses of the word apparent and its derivatives in that sentence. Still, Kashvi was of a trusting disposition preferring to be disappointed as an optimist rather than live in the mental prison of a cynic.
“A trek into the desert is remarkable enough without taking unnecessary risks, why without someone to watch your back, scorpions might crawl into your boots while you sleep!” she laughed as though this was both funny and the most unpleasant thing likely to occur in the sands. She had no desire to sleep buried in a dune with her face wrapped in silk, nor did she fancy having to worry about bandits and the other perils of the desert.
“Rewards are all well and good but truthfully I wish only to see the desert and the ruins. I am a cartographer you see,” She flapped her cases of scrolls, quills and charcoal sticks in Namihra’s general direction, emphasizing the point. While she carried weapons, it was clear which of the two groups of objects was dearer to her. They were exiting the palace now, heading down towards the better quality inns and knocking shops which the settlement had to offer,
“After all, too much gold and someone is always willing to knock you on the head to take it, bad for ones health no?” she chuckled at her own jest, startling several of the more well to do denizens of the city. She gave them a friendly smile which they didn’t seem to find too reassuring. It must be a nervous life, living on the edge of the desert with the future uncertain, Kashvi didn’t envy them, the open road and a broad sky were a better home to her mind, though she seemed to be in the minority when it came to that. Her speech was rapid and excitable as she segued to her favorite topic.
“You mentioned a map? I would love to see it, do you know that in Selduk they mark their maps based on how long it takes to travel rather than how far away something is, it is quite remarkable, of course when you come to maps that include both land and see it looks very different to how a bird might see things, I have often thought it would be remarkable to be a bird…” she prattled on happily as they entered one of the inns, the smells of cooking meat and spices filling their nostrils, soured only slightly by sour wine fumes and body odor.
- Penny
--
Namihra did her best to keep her expression in check as Kashvi rambled on and on. At various intervals toward the beginning of their conversation she even began to respond, only to find the other woman had just come up for air momentarily before delving once more without pause into another topic of interest.
Eventually, she stopped trying to keep up and merely kept tabs on the main points the woman was making, nodding and making appropriate affirmative noises wherever she thought necessary. At least the woman seemed sensible about what was important. Namely, that the sarin was no joking matter, and her views on wealth seemed reasonable enough.
It’s going to be a long journey, she thought to herself, imagining their lengthy trip to the Tower of Bennu. As they passed a few shops on their way into the inn that was recommended by the Zemida, Namihra wondered if she should bother purchasing any ear plugs or if Kashvi’s incessant droning would pierce through them. It’ll be worth it, she thought, in an attempt to convince herself. Better to have someone to watch my back, even more so if she’s particularly interested in her surroundings. It’ll prove useful. Despite her attempts, she felt a pang of lament at having offered her partnership. Namihra wasn’t accustomed to traveling with others, much less someone as… excitable as Kashvi seemed to be.
All the while, her eyes swiveled around her, keeping track of the various guards they passed, as well as others loitering about to verify whether Naakesh hadn’t sent anyone to tail them. After learning more about the man, she wouldn’t put anything past him and had her guard up even more than when she’d initially entered the colony.
When they finally entered the inn, Namihra motioned to a table, cutting Kashvi off as she prattled on about something or other. “There’s a table there. If you’ll have a seat, I’ll get us both a drink. I doubt the map they provided will have much difference to my own, but mine spans the entire desert, so if the one you hold is more specific to the Tower, it might provide details I don’t have.” She didn’t wait for a response and hurriedly made her way to the barkeep along the back counter, breathing a sigh of relief at her momentary reprieve.
With two tankards of brew in hand, she returned to the table and offered Kashvi a mug, glad the woman would at least be unable to speak while she drank. Namihra found she had already unfurled the map handed to her by the ratham earlier onto the table, and followed suit with her own map. The majority of her items were stored safely with the Baryakin, but a few key items she always kept on her person.
She sighed internally before saying, “Well, you’re the cartographer, anything of importance you see that’s worth our attention and relevant to our task?” Hopefully this would prevent another inconsequential tangent.
- Shift
--
“No map is entirely accurate,” Kashvi said, gratefully accepting the flagon and taking a long pull, attention already so focused that she wouldn’t have noticed if it were filled with sand. The statement was obvious but her tone was not that of an instructor, but that of a mother discussing a beloved child who occasionally falls short of expectations.
“Both of these began as copies of seafarers charts, a chart is not a map of course, a chart is an entirely different thing yes!” her fingers traced the edge of the maps. Coasts were inevitably the most accurate section of a map for just that reason, invariably charts provided the basic outlines of the coast, and because bad charts meant wrecked ships, inaccurate charts were alot less common than inaccurate maps. At least these two were not copies of each other merely separated by poor transcription.
“This map,” she tapped the one Namirha had provided with a fingernail, “was probably drawn by a merchant, perhaps a Banegoran or someone who learned to write in that script.” It was obvious to her, a stroke her, a slight cramping there, too obvious to feel the need to elaborate. A merchant’s map was best for tracing roads, for finding defensible places to spend the night, and for avoiding the worst of the perils of the desert. A caravenner didn’t go wandering to make further observations of course but he did know the route he would take and others would take using the map that he made..
“The other one by a desert dweller, or at least one more familiar with leaving the trails. See how they mark not only the oasis but the high water points in the wet season, and they are more careful in the layout. She traced a line between several oases, finger following what the map suggested was the lowest point likely to remain rocky rather than sandy. It was not the wet season now, though ‘wet season’ meant something very different here than it did back home, where torrential rain would pour from the sky for months, staining the world a sparkling emerald green.
“Ah look at this!” Kashvi explained with excitement, pointing to a section of both of the maps that was tangential to their destination. She took another drink this time much bigger as she gestured animatedly.
“See how on both these maps the line of oases bends, bends close to these ridge lines,” she stabbed her finger down at the markings indicating a line of low hills. Water, even water below the ground was something she understood. Her magic came of water and her connection to the element was strong.
“This is not likely, not likely at all, it suggests that both our cartographers made these observations from far off, possibly from the same rise. Didn’t want to get too close perhaps? What did they know that we don’t?” she clapped her hand in honest delight, finishing her drink in a single long pull, eyes flashing brightly. A mystery was always something to be relished.
- Penny
--
“I’m impressed,” Namihra mused, watching carefully as Kashvi poured over the maps. She did her best to keep the pleasant surprise she felt from reaching her tone. It wouldn’t do to offend the woman, though it seemed doubtful she would notice, even if Namihra made an intentional barb.
She took long slow drags from her mug as the other woman excitedly pointed and explained. It wasn’t long before Kashvi had finished her brew, a feat in and of itself, seeing as Namihra’s own tankard was only at about half and she’d barely uttered two words. I suppose it takes something else entirely to slow this one down. A mere drink had been sorely insufficient, particularly when Kashvi was presented with what she seemed to value most – topographical depictions. Raising her eyes, she locked them with the barkeep’s, motioning for another round to which she received an affirmative nod.
A quick look around the inn confirmed that none of the faces she had seen outside had followed them inside. Her shoulders relaxed slightly.
Turning her attention back to the table, Namihra shifted the maps a bit. While little of what the woman focused on seemed truly pertinent to their upcoming journey, some nuggets proved quite useful and she demonstrated an aptitude that Namihra hadn’t fully expected. Kashvi spoke with authority but no arrogance, seeming truly joyed to be discussing the subject with someone, even such as her who held little to no knowledge of maps or their origins beyond how to use them for navigation.
Despite herself, she felt some guilt at her earlier dismissal of the cartographer, though she was admittedly still a bit ruffled by her perpetual chatter. Kashvi was like a fountain of rushing water, a never-ending stream that ceaselessly dispensed into an ever larger pool.
With one hand she traced a series of paths on her map that lead to the Tower of Bennu while with the other, she pinpointed oases that seemed to land along or nearby the same trail on the map the ratham had provided. At each oasis, her index finger tapped the map to emphasize the source. They weren’t abundant, but sufficient enough to make their walk much more tolerable.
“What do you think of this path?”
A server approached them with two more mugs and placed them on the table with a placid smile before wiping her hands on the cloth at her waist and walking away.
- Shift
--
“Yes, yes, truly a wise path,” Kashvi burbled happily, her dark eyes following the sweep of her new friends finger along the map. Without conscious thought she had produced a leather bound collection of papers from her pack. A small knife appeared a moment later and whicked the point of a charcoal stick to sharpness in a drizzle of dust before vanishing again. The pages of the book were filled with maps of various kinds, some sketched in charcoal, others in crisp ink. Regardless of their medium every image was crammed with marginalia, figures and notes in small neat handwriting. “There should be some amount of clearance from the sand, better to walk on rock than slog through the dunes ha!” Kashvi continued, her mind visualizing the possible heaping of sand and its clearance by infrequent rain falls and wind.
“I do like a desert, much easier than slogging through a rainforest or a jungle no? Chop,chop!” her left hand pantomimed the action of a machete while her write quickly scribbled out notes in a cartographic shorthand, transferring the pertinent details of both the maps they already had onto what would eventually become her own map of the area.
“This will be a remarkable journey,” she declared brightly, taking a sip of her drink and briefly breaking the excited burble of her words.
“Yes, yes, most remarkable!”
- Penny
--
“Mm.” While finishing the remnants of her first tankard, Namihra made a consenting noise at Kashvi’s comment about traveling over the rocky terrain as opposed to the sand.
Namihra suddenly wondered where the other foreigner had gone off to after they’d departed the Zemida’s throne room. She had lost sight of him in her conversation with Kashvi, and feared she might have missed an opportunity to connect with him again in case they did meet in Jalantha in the future. There was something about him that stirred something in her which she couldn’t quite place. As she observed Kashvi, she recognized something similar about her as well. Curious.
“You know,” she interjected when it seemed her companion had taken another momentary pause. A quick glance around the room confirmed no one was paying much mind to them. There were few patrons in the inn currently, a group of younger men in loose fitting clothing in the corner, an older man at the bar conversing with the barkeep, and two sets of couples at opposite ends of the room. Nonetheless, she lowered her voice.
“I don’t trust this Naakesh. Particularly after his parting comment to us. He suggested we stay in the inn, but I think I’ll spend my night at the Baryakin encampment outside Kaganja’s walls.” It almost physically pained her to forego the comfort of a soft bed and a well needed bath, but she needed to secure her items before they departed and she trusted the sarin folk more than the Zemida. “You’re welcome to do as you please, of course. But I think for now we should be set to meet before sunrise tomorrow to make headway.”
Quickly downing the second mug of brew, she realized that while it was not as watered down as she had found in other locations, it wasn’t strong enough to affect her much after just two drinks. Her legs however, did feel a bit numb. “I’ll settle our tab at the bar, and take my leave, unless there’s anything else?” By the time she’d finished her statement, Kashvi had finished taking down notes onto her notebook and Namihra rolled up her map and tucked it away. She tried to keep the pessimistic voice in her mind from berating her for giving the woman everything she needed to complete the journey without her.
If Kashvi was not to be found the next morning, she could recall the locations of the oases she had identified along the path, but made note to mark the map as soon as she could. Even if she did depart in her absence, Kashvi was sure to take the same path they had outlined and Namihra was certain she would come across the woman before long.
- Shift
--
Kashvi nodded her enthusiastic ascent with enough force to set the pony tail of dark hair atop her head bobbing. She closed her book and slipped it back into her pack, tucking the charcoal away before rubbing her hand across her forehead. Unnoticed, it left a dark smudge of charcoal dust across her brow.
“The drink is good and you are generous,” she responded with the traditional bow of appreciation, hands pressed before her stomach with fingers straight.
“A good suggestion, a remarkable suggestion, to retire to the camp. Though it pains me to presume ill of another, who can say what the Zemida might do. It would not do if he were to give this task to other adventurers who thought it might be best to start by cutting our throats. No! That would not do at all!” From her tone it truly did pain Kashvi to make such a judgment, her large dark eyes downcast at the very suggestion. It just as obviously didn’t occur to her that Namihra might imagine that Kashvi herself might think of cutting a throat or two.
“No, no, best to sleep under the stars, an open sky is a good portent before travel! Why, I tell you, I once trekked across the mountains into…” The stream of prattle continued without abatement as the pair quit the tavern and headed for the edge of town.
The knave pondered Okan's idea, but only for a moment. There was really no reason not to do the job, if he had to be honest with himself, and he was often inclined to only be honest with himself. He didn't think Okan was planting him for a trap, and even if he was, Amal never doubted his chances of escaping and wreaking vengeance. It had happened plenty of times before. If one did what he did, that led to risks.
"I've never had problems with grave robbers, but if it brings me a vial of the good stuff then who am I to complain? I'll see you when it's done." He remarked with a propitiating shrug, and with a knowing look to Okan, Amal stepped away and faded into the shadows, wanting to see the layout of the town whilst vaguely walking in the direction he was pointed at. More than one his trained eyed caught thieving signs and pickpockets nabbing their marks. Arilquas really was a place for him. At least in style. There was a lot of competition for work, but that never bothered him much. Guilds he did not like, but a bunch of freelancers weren't a problem.
He slid through the bazaar and a few downtrodden streets, scoping out some of the more well-to-do buildings before laying eyes on the prize. Just outside of the small city was a running river, the smell was discernible to him. A desert dweller could sense water unlike any other. The stone canopy of the house looked like it could bake a slave in the sun, but it kept the manor below it cool.
Amal kept to the trees, keeping himself out of sight. He glimpsed the barest hint of movement near the villa; likely the hired sword Amal had been warned about. He approached cautiously, going around and hugging the river, before scaling a small garden wall and following the path until he neared where he last saw the guard. Quietly he pulled his scimitar out, poising it for a killing strike the next time the guard patrolled back towards his area... @Shu
As the desert sun scorched the dusty streets of Qadir, Dalani found himself more and more being a lone Ayralite on an increasingly desperate search. This old, beaten up mad had not exactly looked like someone having an easy time to hide, but either Dalani's eyes were deteriorating rapidly in the heat or the traces they tried to follow decayed much more quickly than he had hoped for. He ultimately ran out of further clues just a few hundred steps out of the tavern where the unfortunate events had taken place.
What should he do now ? Just standing there, dumbfounded like a pillar, and letting the few passer-bys who dared to confront the blazing heat openly just watch the crystals on his head glisten in the intense light did not sound like a good choice. It certainly didn't feel like it either as Dalani could already sense some serious buildup of sweat on his skin. The Ayralite retreated into the shadows, saddened that he had not been able to find the one he had been trying to follow.
Qadir deserved being left behind. Maybe there were people who happily lived assuming that an earth Ayralite had to think of a desert as a paradise because there was no other place where their element was so blatantly and ubiquitously visible, but Dalani could only disapprove. The sand irritated the eyes, the heat put a constant strain on one's body and last but not least there were those Tawran people who constantly mistook themselves for a weird sort of slaves who had to obey and serve for some axiomatic reasoning. Time to start packing!
Dalani happily left the heat outside to its own devices while he found retreat in the small, halfway subterranean room he had rented for the anticipated duration of his stay. A quite clever construction he had to admit: Far down enough in the earth to benefit from its temperature-stabilizing and cooling effect, yet at the same time with its ceiling a tad above ground level so to let in some light through small windows -- enough to illuminate stuff once the eyes had adjusted, but also not enough to introduce additional warmth. It really wasn't like a high ground water level was an issue with the cellars here after all. The Ayralite packed his stuff with just barely enough care and precision so not to make things fall out of their bag on a rough journey and, of course, not to damage anything. That included his armor, simply because wearing that heavy, dark stuff would provide at least as much discomfort as it would offer protection.
One question of not so negligible importance remained however: How to make some solid distance once outside the gates ? Horses were expensive, especially if one probably needed more than one in order to get one's not so little self and gear hauled around, but joining a caravan would be much cheaper while possibly also being safer! Just... where to find one ? It wasn't like there was a strict schedule of arrivals and departures or any kind of market where free spots where sold, was it ?
So, somewhat oblivious towards what might be the best approach, Dalani headed out with his back covered in bags, clothes and his weapons. Maybe the city gates were a good place to start indeed for everyone had to get in and out that way.
