Destination: The Emerald ForestWell, that had certainly been an adventure of sorts back in the forest. Galaxor had seemingly gotten his wish for some combat, though not all of them had gotten out unscathed, and many a spirit had been put to rest in turn. He almost wished he could talk more to the ghost of the dead paladin that had appeared, get some information and such down while he could, but the caravan itself had to move onto the next destination as well. In that vein, he'd been pressed on time to wind things down and grab what he could on the way out for study despite his desire to stick around and do some studying. Hmm. That and they needed to tend to the wounded.
After ensuring Terliu's raised dead were fully gone, and insisting on being the last to leave the barrow, Knossos had taken to trying to gather any potentially dangerous items that might need containment. In particular, he would take the sword of the released Wraith and several key 'interesting' chunks of the now-smashed throne as 'souveniers' for his cart. His body still felt sore enough from having been slammed against the wall by the final blast, somewhat, but it had felt worth the effort in order to ensure further passerby couldn't get involved in something dangerous. And on that matter-
*CRACKLE*
*CRUNCH*
*CREAK*
Someone had to remove the barrow from any future equation. The spirits of the dead had been appeased, and fire was a manner of burial in many places, so with such in mind he'd gone about a controlled burn of sorts.
Flames had licked the insides of the barrow with wanton glee, sparks dancing as the flames had spread about any lingering bone or tissue he could apply it to. Oranges flittered about with reds and flames of black as the dance continued, the magical hellfire seeming to have a mind of its own almost as Knossos conjured and directed it. The occultist aimed at removing any traces of what had been. Bones. Marrow. Items. Burnable materials. Even if it left the history of the place an unknown to any others, the better to remove anything too dangerous and purge it. Even if that meant demonic fire had to be applied to the problem as a solution.
Once he was assured of the inside being cleared out, the occultist had quenched the flames at his command and collapsed the entrance of the barrow completely for good measure.
...Better some things were to be left forgotten to history, perhaps, once it had all been resolved and cleansed.
In that vein, the occultist would turn back toward the caravan, take one quiet look back, and then take his prizes as he began the march back to catch up with the others. Still, he had a bottle of wine to bring to a certain cheese-maker, and some new artifacts to study and place in containment. So it wasn't a loss overall, per say, but it was certainly something he hoped wouldn't repeat itself too often in the future either.
Destination: The Hold of Clan BuraqAh, sand. What could he say about it? It was hot, it was harsh, and indeed it got everywhere. A lot of people hated it for that reason, and yet those accustomed to such terrain certainly were more well-adjusted. It was in this vein that Knossos felt glad to be familiar with such terrain, even if it had meant conjuring himself some extra water to bring on the road. Albeit water he couldn't really 'share' with others, but which he could drink of for some particular reasons, but water to sustain himself all the same. All the same, the presence of the olden road underneath their feet and sparse vegetation of the dry scrubland and savannah they were in was definitely distinct from the likes of a full-on desert.
He could feel an insivisible chill run down his spine, however, at the mere thought of seeing 'those' rolling dunes and ruins and so forth again. A place he hoped they wouldn't route through if possible in the future, much less run into a bit.
Still, this sort of landscape was not alien to him either. Not after he'd been traveling with the caravan for some time by now. However, this particular location was at least new to him personally.
A colossal ochre stone wall bars easy entrance to the hold itself, but even where wall ends and mountain begins, the defences continue. Cut into the rock itself are structures and fortifications – guard posts, murder holes and even springalds, all manned by tiny figures only distinguishable from the mountains themselves thanks to the glints of light from their broad shields and scaled armour.
But this is only the beginning of it. Just outside of the walls, stretched out in the no-mans land between farming estates and the city itself is a sea of tents, wagons, temporary structures and perhaps most astounding of all are the rolling towers and citadels, and the humongous beasts that have been hitched near them.
They stand nearly ten men tall to their shoulders alone, with tremendously long noses that curl and twist like vast snakes. Massive tusks jut from either side of these trunks, banded with steel and affixed with vicious looking blades or vast metal rams at their ends. Mûmakils – Oliphaunts. Their lesser brethren, the elephants, live in Alwyne’s warmer climes, but these are alike them in shape alone: these creatures are the largest warbeasts seen on this continent – indeed, perhaps anywhere on Alwyne.
Constructions formed from rugged and weather-worn stone stood out before the eyes of the seasoned traveler, seeming to jut out of the side of the mountain like some part of a great, yawning maw of sorts. A well-made and perhaps centuries old structure built into the mountain? Perhaps. Yet the stone seemed hewn further than this, the mountain itself incorporated into the defenses of the place they were approaching, and well-fitted to the shorter stature of the denizens who manned them either more or much less visibly. A veritable fortress of an entrance indeed....and who knew how many times it had been tested over the years. How many times arrows and stones and the like had scratched away at it alongside the winds and grains of sand. What stories such things could tell, and yet sat as silent as the stone it was all composed of! Haha. Yet the approach wasn't all simply scrubland and the like either, thank goodness.
The view of passing estates along the road, covered in swaths of verdant farmland, was certainly a sight of its own as well. And yet he got the sneaking suspicion that not all in the fields were perhaps willing participants or too akin to the serfs of his old homeland. Or perhaps he was simply overthinking things based on what he was observing, what he saw, and what feeling he got from things as they simply passed by. But moving into the empty space between these and the oncoming walls, though, things seemed to more dramatically shift. Rolling towers and citadels, wrought from hardy materials, sat about like moveable fortifications that could be brought in and out of battle. These in turn were pulled by vast beasts of size and scale and scope. Greater than the height of many men these greats beasts of burden and war seemed to stand, with vast trunks that seemed to be bordered by titanic, curved, and metal-tipped tusks of grand and magnificent ivory that almost seemed to hold a light sheen under the unceasing light of the scorching sun. He'd seen smaller sorts than these out in other areas of Alwyne in years long gone, but these were certainly the largest subjects he'd seen in quite a long time! Not the largest beasts or such he'd ever seen in his life, admittedly, but nothing to scoff at either in this case.
Alongside all of this seemed to come the sea of tents, carts, and other beasts of burden that seemed to be scattered like grains of sand upon a sandy beach shore. Was all of this space dedicated to hold travelers and caravans and the like in this manner, or had it simply become such over the years without much prompting otherwise? It was curious, but still wasn't an uncommon sight for a larger city in his experience. Keeping potential groups and such outside, with people able to peddle wares and services outside as travelers and merchants wrought business inside and persons generally moved in and out of the main gate along with the flow of goods. It was familiar in a sense that was somewhat comforting to him, though some of the 'goods' were certainly something beyond his 'tastes' as it were.
"Please, be quiet, they'll hear..."The voice of a mother hushing a crying child, all as they both walked in chains by them and headed down into the city proper.
"Get it again!"The voice of a soldier ordering around a camp slave, one who had managed to stumble and spill a vessel of water in front of her master. Seemed to be far from 'new', if the marks on her back and clothing were of any indication, and her quiet nod and movement to go grab more water were simply confirmation of his suspicions on the matter.
He'd heard of such times in other places, seen them elsewhere as well, and for many such practices were very much normalized. Standard. Things they had done for so many generations it was alien to consider otherwise. In others, such as where he had come from, such a trade was seen as useless for the most part. A lack of need for such hard labor slaves where servants were simply fine, where serfs got protection and to keep enough to eat, and where merchants had been growing in number as many moved toward the bigger cities in his youth. His youth. It had been such a long time since then, really....enough to make the occultist wonder what if anything had changed over the decades back there just as much as it made some part of him desire to avoid the location altogether yet still.
The caravan is stopped just outside the army encampment and directed to park themselves in a wide-open space, a few other, smaller caravans already circled. With the return of the army, the city is filled to capacity, but travellers are free to come and go as they always have… So long as they follow the Clan’s laws.
Regardless of what was being done here or not, they were in the land of another place. Another people. Another culture. It benefitted the caravan to maintain neutrality and not earn the ire of the locals in places they went to, whether they liked it or not, and anyone who endangered that....well, made themselves a danger to the caravan. A grim truth of the world, but one that had to be abided by lest they earn themselves a fair bit of dangerous attention. Not that some places didn't hand that out in spades whether they tried to or not, but if they could avoid it then such would be good.
...So yes, he hoped he would not have to try to place a quick curse or two on certain members of the company to keep them from putting a target on everyone's backs. To that end he'd need to consult with Athulwin for further approval as a precaution.
"Victra valis..."A quietly muttered spell would emerge from the occultist's lips, a small wisp of flickering black, red, and orange flame would emerge before his eyes. It seemed to stare back at him, looking like a tiny floating fireball, but it was as much a little messenger as Knossos could muster for the moment being without bringing in something too big. In that he'd worry if the locals would react more or less badly, but he was unaccustomed to Dinnin religion and its ways in the general sense. Better to be small and safer than sorry, he felt, even as he rolled his self-moving cart into its position in the parked caravan train, got out of the cooling shade of the inside of his covered cart, and lightly hopped off to stretch his legs finally.
"Bring a message from me to Athulwin, asking him if we should take any measures to handle 'potentially worrisome' members of our caravan at this particular location pre-emptively or otherwise. Also see if he has any other advice on the matter otherwise as well. I want to be informed as a precaution for the most part.
Also, please don't set anything on fire. Not unless its someone trying to make a campfire on the open ground along the way."A small puff of smoke rose from the top of the fiery wisp. Almost like it was huffing in mild frustration at being lectured on not being able to set something on fire. Even so, it would flit away as it moved through the scorching air to find and deliver the message to Athulwin. No fire? Hmphf! Almost made the little thing want to return to the demonic plane it had been summoned from....though admittedly the driving heat and encironment in this part of the mortal plane was still pleasant enough to it otherwise.
In the meantime, the occultist would seek out Gadri and see if the smith knew if he could peddle his occult services here safely (or not) in this place. Or whatever the sort might be. Some further insight into the local area and practices would certainly be a welcome thing if nothing else.
