Shift

SANDSTRIDERS: A Lost Land

Darn, I was hoping not to be the last, but you beat me to the trigger

SANDSTRIDERS: A Lost Land

Her body cast almost no shadow as the sun blazed fiercely from above at the sky’s zenith. Although she was finally becoming accustomed to the unyielding temperature after two years of wandering through the outskirts of the Manudhe desert, Namihra still felt suffocated by the oppressive heat. Wave-like fumes rippled through the still air before her, mimicking the waves she longed to see at the coastal outpost of Kaganja toward which she now traveled. She hoped the unfamiliar landscape would make her trek worthwhile. Or at the very least, that the rumors of the Baneghoran newcomer proved useful.

“Cha haket! I should know better by now.” She cursed her eagerness to continue the journey during the day instead of setting camp and waiting for the relative cool of twilight. What she wouldn’t have given for a casar. She briefly considered the indulgence of traversing through the sarin atop an agile steed without any care for the time of day, but the weight of the coin purse rocking against her hip with each step was still much too light to justify such an expense. Still, she would have welcomed the company of another living creature.

In truth, even if she had waited until the early evening to continue toward the coast the temperature wouldn’t have dropped too drastically, but her decision to move about while the sun bore down mercilessly upon her was nonetheless a steep price to pay for quicker arrival and earlier access to a drink other than the warm water sloshing in her flask. Much to her perpetual dismay, she hadn’t quite figured out how to manipulate the water sufficiently enough to garner a cooling effect.

It had always been a dream of hers, to bare witness to the sea, and Namihra would have made the sojourn to the shore much sooner had the learning curve to survive autonomously in the desert not been such a precipitous one. The incline was sheer, dizzying, and arduous, but after two years, she fancied herself as having successfully overcome an initiation of sorts into desert life, and felt an unmistakable sense of accomplishment as well as a renewed sense of confidence to venture farther from the familiar trading villages and outposts that had initially served as her lifelines.

The previous evening had started much like every other in the recent past. In the late afternoon, Namihra packed away her camping supplies, gathered any excess items she had liberated from bandits who preyed on a nearby trading route, and headed into the nearest outpost to trade her goods. In this case it was Jalantha, a Baryakin village with whom she’d had previous dealings and was able to establish herself as a trustworthy peddler.

While at the market, she heard mention of a new colony led by a formidable man, the so-called Zemida Naakesh Kaanada. A caravan had recently arrived from the settlement bringing with them contemporary merchandise and lively tales of the Baneghoran people, their wares, of the Zemida’s growing infantry, and of his call for volunteers. Intrigued by the location, particularly due to its distance of only a day’s travel, as well as by the prospects this development might provide for increasing the weight of her coin purse, Namihra marked Kaganja’s location on her map and set off into the night.

When she departed, she estimated she would arrive at the new colony just after midday if she pushed through without taking a break. Looking up now from her dragging feet on the baked and cracked ground beneath her, she was relieved to see the pale stones comprising the settlement’s outer walls and taller buildings in the distance.

Imagining the rivulets of sweat soaking her shirt might soon be replaced by cool ocean water, she closed her eyes and savored the hint of a sea breeze that finally reached her.

As she neared Kaganja, Namihra realized a small Baryakin outpost had been established close by. Deciding she trusted the desert folk more than the unfamiliar Baneghoran foreigners, she stopped and made arrangements for the bulk of her stash of items to be held safely in their care with a promise of coin upon her return. It was a cheaper option than doing so within the colony's walls and this way, she would be less likely to be targeted by unsavory individuals.

No longer weighed down by her effects, she all but sprinted toward the docks. The initial view of the expansive ocean took Namihra’s breath away. The sea was jewel-blue and the sky was silk with slowly drifting tufty clouds of pure white. The strange mixture of beauty and ferocity both awed and inspired her. The air too was unlike anything she’d experienced, humid and thick with a lingering scent she couldn’t quite place. Something tugged at her from within and she felt a curious sense of deep connection. After spending a few minutes admiring the crashing waves and observing the incoming vessels, she pulled herself away toward the pier-side market.

After purchasing a refreshing beverage from one of the many stalls, she located a vendor who spoke Equarish well enough to provide the directions she sought. As she finished confirming the route a second time, Namihra overheard another man’s voice and turned, sensing his warm greeting was directed at her. She didn’t understand much Baneghoran, but was familiar enough with their words to vaguely understand him.

She returned the gesture to the bald man behind her, though with an inquisitive and inherently distrustful gleam in her eye. What does this stranger want? As she assessed him further, her hand hovered close to a hidden throwing dagger she’d kept on her person as a precaution. In such a crowded environment it would be much easier to maneuver with it than her isameh.

His clothes seemed to be of high quality and his features were serene enough to ward off her immediate suspicion of his being a common thief, though she supposed this could just be a ploy and his appearance ultimately did little to lower her defenses against him. The more she considered him however, she realized he seemed altogether foreign. Much more so than the Baneghorans milling about the various stalls. It was only then she registered the accent during his initial address.

“Apologies, I don’t speak Baneghoran very well,” she continued in Equarish, hoping he was familiar with the more common tongue. “Did you mistake me for someone?”

The man gave a curt bow and a relieved smile. “Oh good. My understanding of Equarish is much better than Baneghoran.” He seemed to relax in her presence. “I have just arrived from Arkana. I do not know this land yet. I would like to see their Herbalist and Alchemy shops. Do you know where they may be?”

Arkana? Namihra had only heard of the name in passing and her map wasn’t large enough to indicate its location. She wondered what he was doing so far from his homeland. “I too am unfamiliar with the locations of shops here, I'm afraid. I myself just received directions from this shop owner,” she motioned to the stall behind her which displayed countless different hooks and fishing lines. At her gesture, the elder man behind the counter offered a short bow and a kind smile. “He speaks Equarish as well.”

Assuming their interaction was done, Namihra offered a nod of farewell and turned in the direction the shop owner had indicated where she would be able to find an audience with the Zemida. The bald man thanked her for her time and she heard him ask the same query to the vendor before his voice was drowned out by all the others.

SANDSTRIDERS: A Lost Land

Same! I'm hoping to be ready to post by tomorrow evening

Charlie Henshaw's Treasure

Wow that sounds awesome!

A lot more than just meets the eye. Looking forward for JFK to join so we can see where this goes.

Charlie Henshaw's Treasure

I'm still on board (pun intended), so why not!

SANDSTRIDERS: A Lost Land

Namihra Ambreen al-Reza

Namihra Ambreen al-Reza

Embrace the storm, for within it, strength is found.

---

___________________________________ P R O F I L E Age 24 Race Human Sex Female Height 5'9'' Weight 145 lbs Alignment Chaotic Neutral Class Warrior Monk/Mystic Monk Level 1 Planar Lineage Water & Air Health Points 24 ___________________________________ I N V E N T O R Y - Camping supplies - Fire starter - Torch - Water flask - Provisions (x2 days) - Coin purse (filled) - Vial of poison - Vial of antitoxin - Whetstone - Throwing daggers (x6) - Rope/grappling hook - Hand mirror - Empty bottle (x2) - Empty sack (x2) - Towel - Extra clothes - Medicinal supplies - Map ____________________________________ E Q U I P M E N T - Scimitar Sword (Steel) - Forearm Guards (Steel) - Shin Guards (Leather) - Wait Guard (Iron) ____________________________________ A T T R I B U T E S Athletics: 14 (+2 / +2 Class bonus) Dexterity: 14 (+4) Intelligence: 12 (+2) Wisdom: 13 (+2/ +1 Class bonus) Charisma: 10 Constitution: 12 (+2) ___________________________________ S K I L L S (A) Strength: 2 (+2 Class bonus) (A) Agility: 2 (+1 / +1 Class bonus) (D) Stealth: 1 (+1) (D) Acrobatics: 1 (+1 Class bonus) (D) Trickery: 0 (I) History: 0 (I) Nature: 1 (+1) (I) Arcana: 1 (+1) (I) Religion: 1 (+1) (W) Perception: 1 (+1) (W) Medicine: 0 (W) Survival: 1 (+1) (C) Persuasion: 0 (C) Deception: 1 (+1) (C) Intimidation: 0 (C) Performance: 0

____________________________________________________________________________ APPEARANCE Namihra has a slender frame, but harbors well-toned muscle beneath her armor. She is above average height for a woman and has dark, piercing eyes and waist-long, thick, dark hair which she either braids or leaves down, though it is not often seen since she wears a headscarf similar in appearance to a hijab. She wears tan pants and a blue jacket over a white blouse with gold trimming, which supposedly belonged to her mother. ____________________________________________________________________________ BACKSTORY Namihra was born into a small religious sect in Qadir, a humble settlement in the outskirts of Tawr, near the Esaadi border. As with all territories within Tawr, those inhabiting Qadir are expected to maintain a fanatic devotion to the Maatrho as their living deity and worship the Dhahit and his pantheon. Due to the settlement’s proximity to Esaad however, it was inevitable that news of the prophet Sharaq’s teachings would be brought over by a stray traveler or caravan. According to this new religion, the faithful of Qadir were misguided in their fealty to the Maatrho. The Tawrish pantheon was said to be a distortion of the truth of the one true god, Arhanphast. Most refused to pay any mind to these tales, but a few chose to heed the words of the prophet. These few established a hidden religious sect of Sharaqism within Tawr, the first foothold Esaad had ever been capable of establishing in its neighboring lands. Those chosen few who shared their creed with Esaad became enlightened to the truth of the false gods they had previously worshiped. While this covert group kept mostly to themselves, they were comprised of members of various social standing including plane touched warriors, swordsmen, and merchants alike, as well as the odd peasant and emissary. As such, news of their affront to the Maathro and his domain was eventually leaked to the Tawran overlords, who became enraged by the blatant treason of these heretics. Tawr responded by sending vicious solders to reenforce the Maatrho’s will over the settlement and show no mercy toward any who dared defy the true gods and lived in blasphemy. Few Sharaqa devotees survived the slaughter. Those who managed to escape their death fled to the northern forests in the disputed territory between the borders of Tawr and Esaad to tend to their wounds and regroup. Among the survivors, an infant (Namihra) was rescued, but her parents were not granted the same fate. Both were skilled mages, her father capable of manipulating the element of water and her mother, the element of air. They sacrificed their lives so that their daughter and a small group of like-minded peers were successful in their withdrawal. Tensions between the two lands grew more volatile and in the over twenty years that have passed since the skirmish, Tawr has kept a tight grip over Qadir with harsh sanctions and vigilant soldiers maintaining order and ensuring no uprises ever stem from the settlement again. During this span of time, those who fled Qadir have been struggling to survive without a stable settlement. Reduced in strength, the nomadic group became radicalized by their homeland’s cruel response and where they were once a predominantly peaceful faction, might now be better classified as religious zealots consumed with avenging their fallen comrades and enacting the Great Father’s will by dismantling the false Tawrish gods. Well trained in the martial arts and swordsmanship, as well as a proficient hunter and tracker, Namihra is the last among their number with a planar lineage and as such, was groomed to become Arhanphast’s chosen warrior against their enemies. Blinded by their rage, her caregivers raised her as a weapon, honing her skills to the best of their abilities with the expectation that once she reached maturity, Namihra would drive a devastating blow against Tawrish forces. As a child, she took these responsibilities to heart, fully believing in the narrative she was fed, and dedicated herself to the cause. As she grew however, Namihra began to understand the depth of what their plan meant for her and became jaded by the impossible outcome. As the years passed, she came to realize she was little beyond a mere tool and refused to forfeit her own autonomy. After devising a credible reason to gain distance from the group so that she might escape the fate they had tied her to, Namihra put her plan into action at the age of 22. She succeeded in securing her leader’s blessing to depart from the group by promising to return after further developing her arcane abilities to strengthen their attack against the Tawrans. Or so they believed. In truth, Namihra has no intentions of keeping her promise, though she does have an interest in augmenting her magical prowess. She has been traveling and scavenging within the lands of Dahard on her own for the past two years. ____________________________________________________________________________ PERSONALITY Namihra is bold and direct with an ability to easily detect manipulation. She condemns any kind of malicious deception, but resorts to it when necessary to avoid danger. She is cautious and generally distrusting of others, loyal first and foremost to herself. Impatient, she prefers not to rely on others for an outcome she is invested in. Resourceful from having survived in the wilds throughout her life, she is also decisive and confident. While she was raised in a religious environment, she is not overtly faithful and takes much of the teachings as one would a child’s story, though she values and respects the tenets of Sharaqism. ____________________________________________________________________________ MOTIVATION AND OUTLOOK Since departing from the clutches of the Sharaqa zealots that raised her, Namihra has had the privilege of choosing her own fate for the first time in her life and has delighted in this freedom. Determined to never fall victim to anyone else’s control again, her current aim is to further develop her planar abilities and find her place in the world. ____________________________________________________________________________ CLASS DETAILS While Namihra has an innate affinity with planar magic, she has no refined skills due to a lack of any instruction or arcane resources such as scrolls, books, etc. Accordingly, she has only a rudimentary understanding of how to manipulate the elements, relying on instinct alone, and has no advanced technique or spells available to her. This is why her class is listed as Warrior Monk/Mystic Monk. She was given the class bonuses based off of the Warrior Monk class.

SANDSTRIDERS: A Lost Land

Namihra Ambreen al-Reza

Namihra Ambreen al-Reza

Embrace the storm, for within it, strength is found.

---

___________________________________ P R O F I L E Age 24 Race Human Sex Female Height 5'9'' Weight 145 lbs Alignment Chaotic Neutral Class Warrior Monk/Mystic Monk Level 1 Planar Lineage Water & Air Health Points 24 ___________________________________ I N V E N T O R Y - Camping supplies - Fire starter - Torch - Water flask - Provisions (x2 days) - Coin purse (filled) - Vial of poison - Vial of antitoxin - Whetstone - Throwing daggers (x6) - Rope/grappling hook - Hand mirror - Empty bottle (x2) - Empty sack (x2) - Towel - Extra clothes - Medicinal supplies - Map ____________________________________ E Q U I P M E N T - Scimitar Sword (Steel) - Forearm Guards (Steel) - Shin Guards (Leather) - Wait Guard (Iron) ____________________________________ A T T R I B U T E S Athletics: 14 (+2 / +2 Class bonus) Dexterity: 14 (+4) Intelligence: 12 (+2) Wisdom: 13 (+2/ +1 Class bonus) Charisma: 10 Constitution: 12 (+2) ___________________________________ S K I L L S (A) Strength: 2 (+2 Class bonus) (A) Agility: 2 (+1 / +1 Class bonus) (D) Stealth: 1 (+1) (D) Acrobatics: 1 (+1 Class bonus) (D) Trickery: 0 (I) History: 0 (I) Nature: 1 (+1) (I) Arcana: 1 (+1) (I) Religion: 1 (+1) (W) Perception: 1 (+1) (W) Medicine: 0 (W) Survival: 1 (+1) (C) Persuasion: 0 (C) Deception: 1 (+1) (C) Intimidation: 0 (C) Performance: 0

____________________________________________________________________________ APPEARANCE Namihra has a slender frame, but harbors well-toned muscle beneath her armor. She is above average height for a woman and has dark, piercing eyes and waist-long, thick, dark hair which she either braids or leaves down, though it is not often seen since she wears a headscarf similar in appearance to a hijab. She wears tan pants and a blue jacket over a white blouse with gold trimming, which supposedly belonged to her mother. ____________________________________________________________________________ BACKSTORY Namihra was born into a small religious sect in Qadir, a humble settlement in the outskirts of Tawr, near the Esaadi border. As with all territories within Tawr, those inhabiting Qadir are expected to maintain a fanatic devotion to the Maatrho as their living deity and worship the Dhahit and his pantheon. Due to the settlement’s proximity to Esaad however, it was inevitable that news of the prophet Sharaq’s teachings would be brought over by a stray traveler or caravan. According to this new religion, the faithful of Qadir were misguided in their fealty to the Maatrho. The Tawrish pantheon was said to be a distortion of the truth of the one true god, Arhanphast. Most refused to pay any mind to these tales, but a few chose to heed the words of the prophet. These few established a hidden religious sect of Sharaqism within Tawr, the first foothold Esaad had ever been capable of establishing in its neighboring lands. Those chosen few who shared their creed with Esaad became enlightened to the truth of the false gods they had previously worshiped. While this covert group kept mostly to themselves, they were comprised of members of various social standing including plane touched warriors, swordsmen, and merchants alike, as well as the odd peasant and emissary. As such, news of their affront to the Maathro and his domain was eventually leaked to the Tawran overlords, who became enraged by the blatant treason of these heretics. Tawr responded by sending vicious solders to reenforce the Maatrho’s will over the settlement and show no mercy toward any who dared defy the true gods and lived in blasphemy. Few Sharaqa devotees survived the slaughter. Those who managed to escape their death fled to the northern forests in the disputed territory between the borders of Tawr and Esaad to tend to their wounds and regroup. Among the survivors, an infant (Namihra) was rescued, but her parents were not granted the same fate. Both were skilled mages, her father capable of manipulating the element of water and her mother, the element of air. They sacrificed their lives so that their daughter and a small group of like-minded peers were successful in their withdrawal. Tensions between the two lands grew more volatile and in the over twenty years that have passed since the skirmish, Tawr has kept a tight grip over Qadir with harsh sanctions and vigilant soldiers maintaining order and ensuring no uprises ever stem from the settlement again. During this span of time, those who fled Qadir have been struggling to survive without a stable settlement. Reduced in strength, the nomadic group became radicalized by their homeland’s cruel response and where they were once a predominantly peaceful faction, might now be better classified as religious zealots consumed with avenging their fallen comrades and enacting the Great Father’s will by dismantling the false Tawrish gods. Well trained in the martial arts and swordsmanship, as well as a proficient hunter and tracker, Namihra is the last among their number with a planar lineage and as such, was groomed to become Arhanphast’s chosen warrior against their enemies. Blinded by their rage, her caregivers raised her as a weapon, honing her skills to the best of their abilities with the expectation that once she reached maturity, Namihra would drive a devastating blow against Tawrish forces. As a child, she took these responsibilities to heart, fully believing in the narrative she was fed, and dedicated herself to the cause. As she grew however, Namihra began to understand the depth of what their plan meant for her and became jaded by the impossible outcome. As the years passed, she came to realize she was little beyond a mere tool and refused to forfeit her own autonomy. After devising a credible reason to gain distance from the group so that she might escape the fate they had tied her to, Namihra put her plan into action at the age of 22. She succeeded in securing her leader’s blessing to depart from the group by promising to return after further developing her arcane abilities to strengthen their attack against the Tawrans. Or so they believed. In truth, Namihra has no intentions of keeping her promise, though she does have an interest in augmenting her magical prowess. She has been traveling and scavenging within the lands of Dahard on her own for the past two years. ____________________________________________________________________________ PERSONALITY Namihra is bold and direct with an ability to easily detect manipulation. She condemns any kind of malicious deception, but resorts to it when necessary to avoid danger. She is cautious and generally distrusting of others, loyal first and foremost to herself. Impatient, she prefers not to rely on others for an outcome she is invested in. Resourceful from having survived in the wilds throughout her life, she is also decisive and confident. While she was raised in a religious environment, she is not overtly faithful and takes much of the teachings as one would a child’s story, though she values and respects the tenets of Sharaqism. ____________________________________________________________________________ MOTIVATION AND OUTLOOK Since departing from the clutches of the Sharaqa zealots that raised her, Namihra has had the privilege of choosing her own fate for the first time in her life and has delighted in this freedom. Determined to never fall victim to anyone else’s control again, her current aim is to further develop her planar abilities and find her place in the world. ____________________________________________________________________________ CLASS DETAILS While Namihra has an innate affinity with planar magic, she has no refined skills due to a lack of any instruction and arcane resources such as scrolls, books, etc. Accordingly, she has only a rudimentary understanding of how to manipulate the elements, relying on instinct alone, and has no advanced technique or spells available to her. This is why her class is listed as Warrior Monk/Mystic Monk. She was given the class bonuses based off of the Warrior Monk class.

Charlie Henshaw's Treasure

Charles Henshaw
1 March 2022

The small cramped space where the necessary equipment to pilot the remotely operated vehicle was located might have bothered someone else, but Zoren was too concentrated on his task to worry about things like posture or stretch breaks.

His station was housed below deck in what might at one point have been a storage closet for the size of it. He hadn’t bothered with measurements, but if he had to guess, Zoren would imagine it was only about 6’ by 6’, allowing enough room for a wrap-around, U-shaped desk upon which various screens displayed a grainy image of the darkened sea outside the hull, and his favorite rolling chair he’d stipulated as an imperative inclusion as part of his contract with Captain Knight.

When he was feeling particularly antsy such as during the ROV’s ascent or descent, when there was little to do beyond waiting for it to reach the desired depth, Zoren could just barely roll himself around in a small circle without banging his knees against the metal wall behind him. It was sufficient.

Besides, it was close enough to the kitchens that every so often, one of the cook’s assistants would bring him a snack. A half-eaten sandwich sat forgotten on the far side of the desk as evidence of such a kindness.

There wasn’t even a porthole in the small space, but the images on the screens surrounding the young man provided all the visuals he needed. His face glowed a dull blue as he inched the box-framed machine forward through a large gaping tear in the Acquitaine’s wooden deck, caused either by decay or some object crashing through it during its slow descent to its final resting place on the sea bed.

Ultimately, the location of his "office" was necessary for optimal handling of the tethered vehicle he controlled on the computer. His proximity to the hull allowed for significantly less wiring that needed to be routed through the ship, which not only saved the Captain and by proxy the Prince, money but also reduced possible complications. The simpler the better for these kinds of things.

The robot he controlled was on the small side, the outer frame at a mere 4’ by 2’ by 5’, nothing like the larger military grade vehicles he’d been pestering Knight to purchase for the past week (“It wouldn’t even need to be tethered, Captain, think of the possibilities!”), but it was well-suited for the job. It was equipped with four high-definition cameras allowing visuals on all sides, retractable arms to facilitate handling of any equipment salvaged by the divers, and top-notch operational sensors, thrusters, and mechanical components, if he did say so himself. Zoren was quite proud of his almost entirely homegrown vehicle. He’d even improved the engines to allow for higher movement speeds, increasing from the typical 4 knots to 6, which accounted for his being the first to arrive at their destination.

He took the opportunity to scout ahead so that he could provide instruction to the divers when they arrived. It was how they normally handled these operations.

Zoren ignored the hurried steps that approached, he was focused on ensuring that no part of the sensitive equipment on his modified rig bumped up against the splintered planks on the deck.

“Arevalo,” came a voice from the doorway behind him. “Pull up, we just received orders from the Captain, we’re bringing everyone back.”

His eyes remained glued to the screens, but he responded with an irritated tone, “What do you mean? Can’t you see I’ve just made it in?”

“Doesn’t matter, the orders were clear – we’re to abandon the current salvage.”

As the ROV cleared the opening, Zoren paused its movements and kept it floating in place as he turned to face the First Officer with a matter-of-fact expression. “Look, I assume you’ve notified the divers, yes?”

The man at the door nodded curtly, irritated at being questioned by someone so young.

“Alright, well my bad boy ‘ere,” he motioned to the screens even though the vehicle itself was not in view, “will make it up much quicker than any of them. Buy me a bit of time and let me at least see if I can grab anything before heading back up. It'll make our time here worth something at least instead of a complete waste.”

It was difficult not to see the logic in the boy’s thinking, but the First Officer wasn’t about to question his superiors. “I was given a direct order, you’re to pull up. Now.”

Zoren rolled his eyes and lifted his hands in defeat with a sheepish smile. “Ok, ok, you got it, sir.”

Satisfied, the First Officer took his leave, likely to notify others of their new plans.

Zoren waited until his footsteps faded before rotating his shoulders and returning to the ROV. “We’re not leaving just yet, don’t you worry,” he said, as if talking to the vehicle. “Knight won’t complain if we bring a few gold bars back with us.”

SANDSTRIDERS : A Lost Land

I'm entirely new to the dice system, but I confirm that my hat has been thrown in the ring!

Looking forward to this, and already thinking about my character =]

Charlie Henshaw's Treasure

@shift @John F Kennedy @sail3695 we are still alive. JFK and sail are aware of the other ship.

@Gunther

Woot! Ok, I'll get on this ASAP