Open Chronicles Between vultures and the universe

[White Swallow]

Long tired days marked the excursion from the heartlands of Amol-Kalit. Still, there were many weeks worth of travel to reach the sanctity of Elbion.
It never was safe to travel alone, so this caravan was an assembly of many different colours and banners. From the Collage to Mirapol to the northern city-states. One could see elaborate emblems and the motifs of weapons and animals.

Many were travellers, many successful expedition mages for the collage and some were soldiers going home.

The veil of the night was upon them, with its twinkling stars waking from their long slumber.
Beautiful yet dangerous.
»The sands hide a thousand enemies, « The swallow spoke in a hushed tone as the caravan came to a halt. They would rest here mid the dunes for tonight.

Lord Blackwell Sammael

 

[Lord Blackwell]

Smoke wafted from the monocled gentleman's pipe as he stopped his camel. He had been in Amol-Kalit long enough to know how cold the desert could get at night, and how important it was that they set up quickly. He set up his one-person tent quickly, not wanting to miss what little conversation that could be had in an all business environment like the caravan. It was always eat, sleep, walk, repeat every day. Most of the eating is done while walking, but when they stopped to rest they ate before sleeping.

Food is best shared with company, and Lord Blackwell was certainly not missing the latter. Groups sat together and ate, while Blackwell took his hardtack and his canteen to look for someone to possibly share a story or two with while they ate. As he strolled along, passing groups already engaged in conversation, he spotted a solitary figure in armor. All that was visible were the man's eyes, but that was all that Blackwell needed to see to tell that this person had a couple stories in him.

A habitual friendly grin spread across Lord Blackwell's face as he approached the metal clad swordsman. He walked up next to the soldier and looked out across the dunes with him. "Mountains of sand, I'm still getting used to the idea after a few weeks. You look much more attuned to it though." He reached out for a handshake. "Johnathan Blackwell III, and you?" He often left his lordship out of greeting, as some people were known to react negatively to his nobility for whatever reason.

 

[Sammael]

Nightfall had set in and the caravan came to a halt under the starlight.

Sammael had moved throughout the caravan during the day, ingratiating himself with many of the other caravaneers. Polite introductions, idle chit chat and then he moved on.

He'd been looking for something and he may have found it.

The Day was long, the elaborate emblems and flags a curiosity to someone who did not know who each one of them belonged to. Sammael was not traveling alone either. He came with a troupe of Hirelings, Abtati all of them. The Sand Elves were silent, responding to Sammael but barely never engaging him in conversation.

As the night sky blanketed Amol-Kalit a Pavilion Tent was erected amongst others. The Tent was large, boasting several rooms tapered off by luxurious curtains. The curtains had been drawn wide to create an open air atmosphere. Inside there were numerous cushions and a large low table upon which a platter of foods had been laid out, the aromas of which would drift across the encampment.

It seemed clear the owner of the pavilion had an amount of wealth at his disposal.

An Abtati in the service of the same pavilion navigated the caravan, dressed in the same midnight colored attire his benefactor favored. He'd approach the White Swallow and Lord Blackwell just as the two appeared to be getting acquainted. When he was within earshot he would have waited, quietly until stating..>>Greetings, Gentlemen. I've been instructed to inform you that my employers tent is open and that all those in the caravan are welcome to dine at his table.<<...the Elf addressed the Swallow personally then, stating...>>I'm also told to inform you that a Hibiscus tea can be brewed or a Ragash style of tea if it is your preference to help remain energized throughout the evening.<<...

 

[White Swallow]

Nadim Ibn Adil approached the Swallow on horseback, » You will take on the first shift?« It didn't even need to be a question at this point.
» As usual,« Alsanunu nodded, stacking wood atop the coals. A kettle of tea was slowly brewing.
Throughout the night, soldiers on shifts passing by would continuously top the fire with more water and tea. It supplied the watchers with a sufficient boost of energy to keep them focused in the eve.

» It is as it is, my homeland and blood,« Swallow bowed briefly before noticing the offered hand and giving his in turn.
» The White Swallow of Narra at your convenience, I am one of the many Warband leaders tasked to protect this caravan. Are by chance returning home?«

Before much else he could say, as one of the rare Abtati came on view.
» An open invitation? I suppose I cannot decline a generous offer.« his eyes shifted towards where Ibn Adil stood.
» Hesam, could you-« and some nodding later. The Soldier already knew what was going, they needn't have to talk to get it across. » Yes, replace me for the hour. --- Yes? --- Very well, I shall find you later.«

 

[Lord Blackwell]

Blackwell was about to answer when a dark haired man approached telling of an open dining area. He turned his gaze over to the sizable tent. The proposal of food that wasn't liable to shatter his teeth and dehydrate him was certainly enticing. He placed the hardtack in his pocket and clipped his canteen to his belt. "Well then, let's continue our conversation over a much better meal than this, shall we?" He started to the tent, at a leisurely pace.

Once Blackwell arrived he realized just how large the tent was. It was certainly enough for every member of the caravan and then some. He had not encountered such extravagance in the deserts of Amol-Kalit. The cities were another story sometimes, but the largest tents he had seen so far only fit a dozen at most, and they certainly didn't have room for whole tables. The food was varied and looked perfectly cooked, the quality level was easily on par with that of his home, Alliria. Blackwell wondered how it was even kept fresh for this long. Frost magic perhaps? Even so, it most likely wouldn't last for much longer. Maybe a night or two more at best. He decided to wait for his new acquaintance before beginning to eat.

 

[Sammael]

>>Splendid.<<...came the reply of the Abtati who would then direct the White Swallow and Lord Blackwell to the Pavilion Tent before moving off to navigate through the encampment presumably to deliver more invitations.

The Pavilion itself was as impressive as could be imagined. The Low Table that occupied the central space in the main room where visitors and members of the caravan were invited to eat and relax was attended by two more Sand Elves. The Abtati were welcoming, inviting the various caravaneers to come forward and enjoy themselves. There was plenty of food for everyone. As Lord Blackwell had surmised the methods of preparation and preservation may have hinged slightly on magic however the Abtati had lived in Amol-Kalit since time immemorable and likely played some part in ensuring this feast met expectations.

An Attendant would also approach the duo of Swallow and Blackwell to welcome them...>>Welcome to the tent of Sammael.<<...the greeting seemed sincere but rehearsed as though it was said for the benefit of guests....>>Sammael wished us to inform you he will be here shortly. Until then he bids you dine, drink and relax.<<

The second Attendant would have retrieved a pitcher and glass, pouring what appeared to be wine into it before offering it to Blackwell. When the Abtati's eyes turned towards White Swallow they lingered briefly then the Sand Elf would speak almost as though it was unsure...>>Wine for you or would you prefer tea?<< In the background a kettle was hung over an open fire, the contents of which was presumably a brewing tea.

 

[White Swallow]

The Swallow felt odd, but intrigued. Last time he was caravaning the sand elves came from an ambush. So it usually was.
Curious that Sammael was at the helm at al this, what connections does he have with them, or is he just like Gerra who merely wants to exploit them for war.
» I must abstain, but you don't need to bring me anything,« he politely declined as was custom.

We took a step around the tent, it was quite luxurious, though granted he never saw a luxury tent outside the battlefield, and the insides of those were forbidden for the Henremdi Sahiyi.

 

[Lord Blackwell]

Lord Blackwell accepted the wine and set it down on the table so he could start on the glorious spread before him. It had been some time since he had enjoyed such delicacies, and he intended to savor them after months of stale bread and bitter water. He heaped food onto his plate and consumed it with gusto. It was quite the disgusting display.

After this unrefined bit of gluttony calmed down, he figured he shouldn't ignore The Swallow, who was sitting next to him and presumably saw his temporary ungentleman like behavior. He straightened up and wiped his mouth with a handkerchief kept under his coat. "So you asked if I was heading home, correct? Yes, that is my end destination. After making it to Elbion I intend to take a ship through the Allirian Strait and into the ports of my home city. This will be the end of my trip into Liadain, and after maybe a year I'll make my expedition into Epressa." Blackwell took a small pause for a bite before he began speaking with his mouth partially full. "So far Liadain, and specifically Amol-Kalit has been quite the adventure. I spent time studying some of the nomadic tribes of the desert, and got to know just how turbulent things can be here." He paused once again to swallow. "I traveled with a small tribe called the Subay' for a spell. After my time with them was finished, I landed myself in Maraan only to learn they had been completely wiped out by a rival tribe not days after I left. I'm sure this isn't news to you though, blood is spilt every day in this desert. One of the reasons I'm leaving." He coughed on a piece of bone before adding a final addendum to his little monologue. "Not that I have any objection to dying here, mind you. I'm sure this is a very fine place to be killed."

Blackwell realized his cup was empty by the time he had finished talking, and wondered why his new friend rejected wine. He took a moment to look around and noticed the banners he had been oblivious enough to overlook before. He noticed the golden bird and arrow on one banner before it struck him. "Ah, you're a soldier of the Shtakmat State, are you? I should have noticed it before. The caravan feels much safer in the hands of such capable warriors. At first I thought you were merely mercenaries to be honest, hired by some cuff shooter merchants back in Maraan."

 

[Sammael]

The Attendant would nod his head when White Swallow declined the offer of service however as he took a step back he would have added...>>Of course. If you require anything please tell us.<< The Abtati had returned to his duties then, blending with the back ground while Swallow and Lord Blackwell conversed. As for his peer, the second Attendant would wait until Blackwell's cup was empty before offering to fill it with wine from the pitcher a second time.

Thus it would proceed for a time. The Abtati knew their way around the large tent, acting as stewards in the area as well as hosts until Sammael himself arrived. They seemed at home in the background where they could observe the guests. If they were asked questions they tended to act polite but aloof.

As for Sammael himself he would finally appear several minutes later dressed in dark attire, the type which absorbed heat from the sun during the day but insulated during the colder nights. The Clothing he wore was rich but not extravagant. He might have been a Merchant or a Scholar backed by a wealthy patron, perhaps he even came from a rich family however his garb alone did not provide an answer.

When he came into view, passing from one area of the tent to the one where the grand table and exquisite feast were held his features would light up in a charming fashion..."Ahhh, gentlemen. I'm pleased to see you accepted my invitation. Forgive my initial absence I was passing a similar invitation to another part of the caravan."...his eyes flashed towards the two Attendants before he carried on...."I trust you've both been well taken care of?"

Sammael held the blush of youth, his features never appearing very old however his eyes held the depth of age putting his exact age into question and though he appeared human with none of the features of another race he moved with an unparalleled grace at times.

He let his gaze set upon White Swallow, they'd become acquainted in Maraan when Sammael had patronized the same Tea House that he was at and he'd have said..."It's good we have a man of your caliber to see to the protection of the Caravan. During the day I learned it has many interesting individuals, some of which seem to be bound for the College of Elbion. A grand place to be certain."...his eyes had shifted to Lord Blackwell by then too and he would have went on...."I don't believe we're acquainted. I am Sammael."

 

[White Swallow]

» A man to survive the hardships of Amol-Kalit surely must have some mettle, but I fear too many people grasp for its empty wastes.« The White Swallow closed his eyes.
» I've known a man seeking fortune in these lands before, now overtaken by greed and false wisdom. I should have cut him down back then when we first had met.« His voice was calm and calculated.

» The desert hides many enemies, and not many can take them,« he faced Blackwell. » We may even see each other on opposing ends.«
The White Swallow then chuckled light-heartedly.


The white Swallow turned his Attention towards Sammael. Though he felt somewhat restive, such was not the place for a man like himself.
» ..Sammael. What opportunity marks this occasion?«

 

[Lord Blackwell]

"I certainly hope it never comes to blows at least." Blackwell stuffed his pipe, lit it, and took a deep breath of the smoke. He hardly saw Sammael approaching, and by then the dark clothed figure was already speaking. He stood to shake Sammael's hand and greeted him. "I'm glad I finally have the opportunity to meet the host of this very fine place of rest. My name is Johnathan Blackwell III, and I would like to give my utmost compliments to the chef, this food is absolutely outstanding." Blackwell, clearly a little tipsy from the several glasses of wine he had, hopped over the table and put his arm around Sammael. "It reminds me of a story from my military days. You see, two of my men had drunkenly provoked an orc chief with such offenses like 'greenskin' or 'pig-face' and naturally such talk couldn't go unanswered. The chief brought members of his tribe to confront us, and I had prepared heavily for their arrival. I was fully ready, and extremely confident we could take them in a fight. A messenger was sent across by their tribe, agreeing not to attack on the condition me and a few other of my fellow officers for dinner with their chief and his family. I thought we should just attack instead, but the other officers believed we should take the offer so I reluctantly agreed to the proposal. When we got there, they had such a magnificent spread. They said it was dinner, but it was much more akin to a feast. Unfortunately I couldn't eat with the rest of my colleagues due to a heavy stomachache I was suffering that day, and had to pretend to eat the food for fear of offending them again. It turned out that this stomachache was far more fortunate than I had imagined, because by the time I noticed the chief and his family not eating, the other officers were already dead! The food had been poisoned the whole time! I would have seen it coming from a mile away had they not been orcs, since such tactics are normally beneath or beyond them, but this chief was a very rare dishonorable orc. When they had seen I hadn't really eaten their food, the whole family charged me, even the children! I ran as fast as my legs would carry, but it wasn't fast enough to fully escape the orcs. I had made it in view of the army's encampment, but one of the little ones slashed my left calf with a dagger. I had to fight off the whole family of 6 while hopping on one leg. I had killed the wife and their presumably eldest child, but I knew I wouldn't last much longer. Luckily one of the archers in my camp spotted me, and the whole army rushed down to take the other 4 along with me. The rest of the orc tribe rushed us and did battle with our army. We were victorious in the end, and the orcs fought to the death." Blackwell patted Sammael on the back. "Not implying you would do anything of the sort, the dinner just reminded me of that particular little anecdote." Blackwell hopped over the table again, nearly tripping this time around. He stumbled into his seat and took another long breath from his pipe.

 

[Sammael]

A smile graced Sammael's features, welcoming and receptive as he went to answer the White Swallow's question however before he could speak Lord Blackwell had extended a hand to him. Extending his own hand Sammael would shake Blackwell's before it appeared as though he was put offguard when his guest jumped the table to put an arm around him.

It would appear Sammael was ill at ease in such close quarters, perhaps he had distaste for such an intimate distance though his smile remained pleasant as Blackwell regaled him with his story.

As the story came to its conclusion and Blackwell patted Sammael on the back it was apparent that he was bristling slightly, his features slightly uncomfortable until Blackwell had returned to the opposite end of the table at which point his regularly charming smile returned....

"Lucky that you've already partaken in the wine then. It would be a waste of food to poison all of it."

...the monotone way in which Sammael spoke was accompanied by a change in his features which turned his expression blank making it almost impossible to read him before he burst into laughter making it clear he spoke in jest. Neither the wine nor the food was poisoned. Outstretching a hand he would pluck a roasted root vegetable from one of the platters before pressing it to his mouth and eating to further set anyones mind at ease if misgivings were had.

Allowing his gaze to shift towards White Swallow then Smmael would have addressed him, stating...

"Only the opportunity to meet new acquaintances. It would not be unlike when we met in Maraan only now we travel across Amol-Kalit in a caravan and I think it is prudent to meet as many of the men I travel with as possible. Take Lord Blaackwell for instance, I would not have had the pleasure until this moment."

...at which point Sammael, looking back in Blackwell's direction would nod his head politely, acknowledging their first meeting...

"My tent is open to all those of the Caravan on this night. Invitations have been circulated to everyone."

...it seemed that Sammael could adapt to the role of hosting such a grand feast well however the festivous atmosphere was soon broken when a scream was heard causing his eyes to move from side to side. It came from deeper in the camp, elsewhere and in response Sammael would raise his right hand and snap his figners once. The Attendants would respond by moving away, leaving the tent to investigate while he remarked...

"Odd. I don't believe we are being attacked."

 

[White Swallow]

The White Swallow snorted sharply at the tale, though such was always the case when surrounded by company that drank. He used to advise against it, though he eventually learned to preferably remain wisely quiet.
» I fear Sammael, that my duty lies on the battlefield among the stars- As do those of other soldiers. I'm no mere merchant or traveller.« A scream resonated through the camp and the Swallow was instantly put on edge.
» A single moment of leniency! « he hissed while reaching his hand for the hilt, going after the Attendants to look.

 

[Lord Blackwell]

Lord Blackwell coughed on his cigar smoke when Sammael made his joke, and laughed heartily when all of the smoke and most of the air had escaped his lungs. He recovered from the coughing fit only to hear a scream moments later. He took a hasty gulp of wine before stumbling after the others, his hand already on the handle of his machete. He hoped he could fight just as well as he could sober if need be.

 

[Sammael]

The Attendants had left, White Swallow in close pursuit and Lord Blackwell after him but Sammael remained in the rear. It appeared as though he had confidence that the others could handle this situation and so he would follow at a leisurely pace. As he had surmised the camp was not under attack though.

The scream had originated deeper in the camp, among the tents of the caravan. It was the tent of Hassan el-Farouq, a member of a minor Merchant House that maintained several trade routes through Amol-Kalit and all the way to Elbion where they had established several minor ties to the college. It had been rumored that Hassan dabbled in the arcane and may have even unearthed a tome dealing with Dark Magic but that was only gossip.

When the White Swallow reached the tent of el-Farouq he would have done so just behind the Attendants of Sammael. The Abtati had gone inside to investigate where they discovered the body of Hassan and a girl, a servant who knelt over him with tears in her eyes. An Attendant, crouched down by the body of Hassan would have turned towards Swallow and Blackwell to state...>>Dead. A Knife wound it appears. Maybe poison as well.<<...however as they attempted to question the servant she grew fearful, stammering...>>No...no....it was one of you, an elf!<<...but this was impossible as both Attendants had been in the tent when the White Swallow and Lord Blackwell arrived.

Sammael arrived at last, strolling up behind the others as a thin crowd started to appear at which point he would state...

"My Attendants are innocent. I can vouch for them."

...but the girl, the servant was busy shaking her head and stammering out...>>She...she said her name was...I....Iesha.<<...and she would go on to describe the perpetrator in detail, a Sand Elf fitting the description of the one White Swallow and Sammael had met in Maraan who had identified herself by the same name, Iesha.

Listening, his eyes growing wider Sammael would have motioned looked between White Swallow and Lord Blackwell...

"Murder? It seems so convenient yet I think we may know the woman who did this, even though I'm not sure I remember her being part of the caravan."

....he'd raise his right hand slowly, slender and delicate looking fingers rubbing his chin as a thoughtful expression started to overtake his features.

 

[White Swallow]

The White Swallow eased down, if only for the time being. He loosened his hand off his hilt when any sign of an outright attack was disproven.

»Snake in the grass,« he merely replied.
»Your entourage should very well be aware how quickly a sand elf ambush can appear, « he eyes the elven company. »No? As if seemingly disappearing in back into the sand. She may be long gone without a trace, unless hiding within the line.«

He turned towards Sammael, of course sand elves were despised in these regions, with their homelands far in the west, they were seen here mostly as raiders attacking caravans, villages and traders.
Opinions were low, especially when fed into.

 

[Lord Blackwell]

Blackwell looked disturbed by the notion that there was a murderer in the caravan, or one in the area at least. His thinking was a bit skewed in his drunken state, and everything seemed fuzzy. "We're they robbed as well, or was there some other motivation?" He would normally be excited at the prospect of solving a murder, but he couldn't help but feel uneasy about the whole thing. He pulled back the curtains and looked outside, as if expecting the murderer to be there. He kept watching as he waited for a response to his theory.

 

[Sammael]

The Tent of el-Farouq was a well maintained if not lavish accommodation. When Lord Blackwell inquired as to whether anything was stolen Sammael would have strode forward, moving deeper into the tent before shrugging his shoulders...

"How would we know? Nothing here seems out of place."

...but looks could also be deceiving, even Sammael wasn't without his own secrets but he would plead ignorance on the grounds that he hadn't been within the tent prior to this moment. As for the Attendants Sammael would have nodded once after he'd heard what White Swallow had to say and the two Abtati would have departed the tent...

"My aides will see will search the perimeter. Perhaps they can find her or some trace. They share a common lineage after all."

...left alone others of the Caravan who were better acquainted with el-Farouq and who had also heard the serving girls scream of discovery would enter to take charge of her, offering her safety and reassurance while she lamented the fate of Hassan. Gazing between White Swallow and Lord Blackwell he would have finally remarked...

"Why does anyone kill someone? We may never know. All I've heard was the rumor that he did have a fascination with Dark Magic. Not all to uncommon for those of means who are otherwise ordinary. Perhaps he found something of interest to another party."

...which may explain why he was on the way to Elbion with the Caravan. Of course Dark Magic was a dangerous affair, it often didn't pay to trifle with dark gods and powers beyond ones comprehension yet pacts were still made by the desperate, the foolish, the power hungry.

 

[White Swallow]

»Perhaps it might be so indeed, but what's done...is done and now outside of my sphere of influence or the extent of my worry.« The White swallow's posture relaxed as he looked around the tent before just shyly exiting it, his gaze still set on the pair of men. Per Sahiyi teachings, he should have been compassionate, a first responder, but even then the Swallow felt plenty matters were not his matter.

Another man of his company slowly approached the White Swallow, it was Nadim Ibn Adil. the two men exchanged a glance and perhaps a nod.
»This is one misfortunate occurrence that should not waver our guard.«
Nadim shook his head as to move the White Swallow to follow him, but he only rose his head and turned to the two men. » I'll be patrolling the perimeters if you need me, however in two hours my shift is over if the night will be as still as I hope it will. My gut tells me it will not.«

 

[Lord Blackwell]

A sigh escaped Blackwell's mouth, taking smoke from his pipe with it, solving a murder conducted by an obvious professional was beyond his capabilities, especially with the state he was in. He shook his head and figured he should head in for the night. "Right then, I suppose I'll turn in. Not much else I can do here." He turned and exited the tent, moving past Nadim and The Swallow. He found his tent and made his way inside, turning off the lamp on the interior. He hadn't remembered leaving it on but it was no matter. Blackwell threw his blanket over himself and laid his head down onto his pillow. He knew he had no reason to be targeted for murder, as he didn't know anyone named Iesha. Still, he placed his machete under his pillow, and put his hand there with it. With that, he closed his eyes and tried his best to sleep.