Haradwaith - The Lands of Harad

"Going to Mordor!" Cried Pippin. "I hope it won’t come to that!"
Wainrider
Points: 202 
Posts: 95
Joined: Sat Aug 29, 2020 9:36 am
Image


History of the Harad

Aye, curse the Southrons!’ said Damrod. ‘’Tis said that there were dealings of old between Gondor and the kingdoms of the Harad in the Far South; though there was never friendship. In those days our bounds were away south beyond the mouths of Anduin, and Umbar, the nearest of their realms, acknowledged our sway. But that is long since. ’Tis many lives of Men since any passed to or fro between us. Now of late we have learned that the Enemy has been among them, and they are gone over to Him, or back to Him – they were ever ready to His will – as have so many also in the East. I doubt not that the days of Gondor are numbered, and the walls of Minas Tirith are doomed, so great is His strength and malice.’ (The Two Towers)


The state of Harad in the Third Age, as established by Chieftain Suladan, the Black Serpent.

In the Second Age, the Men of Númenor built a great city in the firth of Umbar, a vast natural harbour on the southern shores of the Bay of Belfalas, eventually turning the city into a fortified citadel from whose gates the Men of Númenor could levy great tributes upon many of the tribes of Harad.

For many years, the Haradrim were the greatest enemy of Gondor. Several times, they invaded the north. Finally, the Men of Gondor were able to subdue the Haradrim, though they were later freed by the Kin-strife. During the War of the Ring the Haradrim were allied with Sauron. A Haradrim warrior wounded Faramir. At the Battle of the Pelennor Fields, the Haradrim cavalry and Mûmakil were a great threat to the Rohirrim that had come to aid the people of Minas Tirith. During the onslaught a Haradrim chieftain, who bore the standard of a black serpent on a scarlet field, led the Haradrim cavalry. King Théoden of Rohan slew him in single combat.

The Land of Harad
"He wondered what the man's name was and where he came from, and if he was really evil of heart, or what lies or threats had led him on the long march from his home; and if he would not really rather have stayed there in peace." (The Two Towers)

The Haradrim were bold and grim men, fierce in despair. They were tall and dark-skinned with black hair and dark eyes, and for that, they were called Swertings or Swarthy Men. The men of Near Harad were brown-skinned, with black hair and dark eyes, while the race known as "half-trolls" out of Far Harad had black skin.

Food habits (fiction!): Their food is generally spicy. Meat items, especially lamb meat, is common. Wine, vegetables, fruits and sweatmeats are all readily available.

Music (fiction!): Their music seems repetitive to outsiders but strangely hypnotic.
The Haradrim Army

We Wants You. Join us Preciousss!

Image


What the Lord Denethor may know or guess of all these things I cannot say,’ answered Hirgon. ‘But indeed our case is desperate. My lord does not issue any command to you, he begs you only to remember old friendship and oaths long spoken, and for your own good to do all that you may. It is reported to us that many kings have ridden in from the East to the service of Mordor. From the North to the field of Dagorlad there is skirmish and rumour of war. In the South the Haradrim are moving, and fear has fallen on all our coastlands, so that little help will come to us thence. Make haste! For it is before the walls of Minas Tirith that the doom of our time will be decided, and if the tide be not stemmed there, then it will flow over all the fair fields of Rohan, and even in this Hold among the hills there shall be no refuge.’ (Return of the King)

The Haradrim had tamed the massive Mûmakil beasts and used them in warfare and, like their masters, were decorated with scarlet and gold. They even strapped towers on their backs, garrisoned by Haradrim archers and spearmen.

The Haradrim were said to be skilled horsemen, though not of prowess near to the Rohirrim. They are known to have mounted champions and archers, as well as infantry. Horses feared the Mumakil, and so the Southron forces rallied around them when faced with mounted foes.
Harad's tribes included into those of Near and Far Harad, although there were many tribes of the Haradrim, often mutually hostile. Some of the peoples of Far Harad were organized into kingdoms.

The armies of the Haradrim were said to comprise of horsemen, camel riders, foot soldiers like spearmen and swordsmen men bearing scimitars, and of course riders and tamers of the giant Mumakils. These were enormous and quite deadly creatures, especially to horsemen. In addition, there were wild rumors of giant scorpion-like creatures being used by the Haradrim as beasts of war and burden!

Ranks and Branches of the Army

Cavalry- Recruit, Scout, Lancer, Heavy Cavalry, Mounted Serpent Guard
Footmen- Recruit, Scout, Swordsmen or Spearmen, Veteran Swordsmen or Spearmen, Serpent Guard
Mumakil mahouts: Apprentice beastmaster, Seasoned beastmaster, Veteran beastmaster, Master beastmaster, Legendary beastmaster
Hasharin or assassins: Recruit, Apprentice spy or assassin, Seasoned spy or assassin, Veteran spy or assassin, Master spy or assassin,

Uniform or livery:

Many Haradrim warriors were seen in bright clothing, such as scarlet robes, and were decorated with golden ornaments, such as collars, earrings, corsets of overlapping brazen plates; they braided their hair with gold. Some tribes painted their bodies. Scarlet and red was also the color of their banners, tips of their spears, and body paint. Their shields were yellow and black with spikes. It is also mentioned that at the end of the Second Age some of the Men in the south had weapons of iron. Red scimitars were among their weapons.

Want to join the Army?


Speak to Suladan at Karna first. He will assign you a branch based on your likes.
When you begin your training, you'll get prompts to respond to.
To advance to the next rank, you need to do 5 posts.

The Chieftain of Harad
Image


But they had not yet overthrown the siege, nor won the Gate. Many foes stood before it, and on the further half of the plain were other hosts still unfought. Southward beyond the road lay the main force of the Haradrim, and there their horsemen were gathered about the standard of their chieftain. And he looked out, and in the growing light he saw the banner of the king, and that it was far ahead of the battle with few men about it. Then he was filled with red wrath and shouted the battle of the Pelennor Fields aloud, and displaying his standard, black serpent upon scarlet, he came against the white horse and the green with a great press of men; and the drawing of the scimitars of the Southrons was like a glitter of stars. (Return of the King)


Suladan, also called The Black Serpent and the Serpent Lord, now rules over most of Harad. He is known as a peerless warrior and a master assassin. Among both friends and foes, he is considered to be a monster due to his decisiveness, prowess, and cruelty in battle. Suladan is also a master politician, for he more than manages to keep all tribes of the desert lands under his sway. For now, I play this character.

Rules
-All races welcome, but beware of being captured if you're from the lands of Gondor!
-Any location in the general geography covered by this thread is open for use, not just those described above.
-Please keep overt silliness to a minimum.
-Minimum word limit is 250. No maximum, but if it's too long, consider breaking it down into another post.
-Double post but don't spam.
-For now, it is a free RP thread. Do your stuff and have fun!
Last edited by The Black Serpent on Wed Feb 02, 2022 11:48 am, edited 29 times in total.

Wainrider
Points: 202 
Posts: 95
Joined: Sat Aug 29, 2020 9:36 am
Palace of Kârna
Court of Suladan, the Black Serpent
As Suladan

Image


As one approaches the city of Kârna, one can see farmlands and many villages. Most of these village homes are nothing more than mere hovels, more holes than homes. Here the poorest reside. Others who are more wealthy manage better homes, but only slightly better. Their work is monotonous and heavy, for theirs' is the burden of tilling the land. Such villages are surrounded by the desert and arid lands, and yet there are several large oases where one can quench thirst on one's way to the city.

A road leads to the city, known in Gondor and in the Common Tongue as the Harad Road. It begins from South Gondor and reaches the center of Northern Haradwaith. It is said that the road was once built by a King of Gondor long ago. However, the Haradrim rulers now claim it is built by them. For they are indeed great builders, and they are prideful aplenty. Now, this road is lined with both sides with tall palm trees, their long leaves rustling peacefully in the wind. Their like is not seen in Gondor, not indeed in the rest of Middle Earth, except in the desert. These, along with various shrubs and cacti belong to the harsh arid climate. Like the people, they are strong. Only the strong survive in the desert.

Travelers, especially from the North, are amazed at the flora and fauna here. Of cacti, there are many varieties to see. For instance, there are barrel cactus, lace cactus, and organ pipe cactus. Some of these bore small, bright flowers. The Brittlebush was a shrub, whose yellow flowers rose on long stalks, peeping out of the grass at passers-by. The Creosote bush is seen in more arid regions, whose yellow flowers are as small as the leaves themselves. The Desert Ironwood Plant is there, whose violet flowers are a delight to the eyes. It is called Ironwood for it can grow in the most inhospitable climate imaginable. Other plants you can see are the Desert Sage plant, the Desert Marigold, The Desert Lily, and so much more besides.

Of fauna, you may see wild horses running free, the bashful antelopes and gazelles, long-necked camels, and large lizards. But be careful of poisonous spiders, snakes, and other things that claw beneath the sand!

The desert of Harad can be delightful!


The city of Kârna is a planned city and a marvellously planned one at that. The city forms a perfect circle with high walls around its perimeter. Inside, one can find or come across as many as 20 sectors or city districts. Most of these were residential areas, subdivided again into living quarters according to one's position in society. There are several merchant quarters as well with grand bazaars. Almost anything can be bought here if one has money. Thieves are not spared. Suladan's laws are not light on criminals and foreign spies. Each of the city districts has one direct road to the main palace area and roads to the adjoining city districts. In all, the city was perfectly circular having a diameter of 2000 meters!

At the very center of the city lies the palace. The Palace is walled high once more by a citadel. Within the palace complex, there are delightful gardens fed with four sparkling streams of water, a marvel of irrigation. Just beyond the gate will you see such delightful and refreshing gardens, but after walking through a courtyard of rows beyond rows of tall arches of white and red, supported on black pillars on a red sandstone floor. Here, you'll be checked for weapons. May your Gods help you if one is found, for you supposed to deposit all weapons at the gate!

Keep on walking, and you'll come across many huge courtyards where the floor is of white marble, in the middle of which there are small, rectangular pools of clear water. The light of the sun reflecting off the floor hurts your eyes. As you squint and avert your gaze to look closely, you see there are many while columns supporting the two-story building structures on all sides. Their walls show motifs of kings, armies, and mumaks, and sometimes of mythical winged creatures.
Image
As you keep advancing deeper, you now come across the Audience Hall where the current chieftain of the Haradwaith, Suladan sits. Here he gives the audience, discusses matters of state and of armies, makes decrees, and even judges matters of life and death. The audience hall is made in a hypostyle fashion. The hall itself is on a raised platform of the finest red and black marble. The platform is 7 feet tall itself and has winding stairs on 4 sides leading to the hall above. The hall is open on all sides. There are 4 rectangular seating areas on all 4 sides where government dignitaries, army generals, and commoners sit, all having high vaulted ceilings and massive columns with serpent-shaped capitals on top.

A slightly raised square-shaped platform in the center is for the King and his closest people, also having high, grand vaulted ceilings and serpent-shaped capitals on top of columns on a high roof. The vaulted ceiling is especially magnificent, for it is sculpted with colorful stones and jewels to seem like the night sky! Suladan sits on a golden throne with red cushions. And since he sits this in the very center of the hall, one needs to approach right in front of him to speak. The closest one sits to him, the higher the cushions are. Suladan wears a robe of gold silk and a high crown shaped like a snake on his brow. His hair is greying, yet his eyes are alert and even cruel at times. He holds a red scimitar in black scabbard in his hand.
Last edited by The Black Serpent on Sat Sep 25, 2021 9:04 am, edited 12 times in total.

Wainrider
Points: 202 
Posts: 95
Joined: Sat Aug 29, 2020 9:36 am
Abrakân

Image


Abrakân is simply the largest market-city south of Gondor territory. This city rivals even the great port-city of Umbar-upon-the-sea. In some cases, like in opulence, it threatens to outshine even that. Abrakân is a very wealthy city, for it lies in the middle of trade routes from the West and North, and to the mysterious East and South beyond the sand lands. At Abrakân you can buy delectable fruits and vegetables, exotic meats and fabrics, wine and liquor, gems and other precious stones, and even slaves. However, Abrakân is also an overly hedonistic city in contrast to the spartan Kârna. If you have the money, this city will provide. Harems and gardens abound in this beautiful city. Crime is almost non-existent here due to the presence of strict laws. Haradrim army routinely patrols the streets. However, one should still be careful of pickpockets, thieves and assassins in its narrow alleyways!
Last edited by The Black Serpent on Thu Jan 27, 2022 8:19 am, edited 11 times in total.

Wainrider
Points: 202 
Posts: 95
Joined: Sat Aug 29, 2020 9:36 am
Badharkân

Image


This is the largest garrison-city in Harad. Badharkân is surrounded by high limestone walls, always guarded. Its entrance is guarded by a massive gate watched by ever-vigilant eyes. The city is flanked by tall hills on three sides, which makes it almost impossible to infiltrate. Dust storms are common. Badharkân is where the infantry of Harad trains at. Swords, spears, scimitars, and morel. Want to be deadly with blades? Sign up here!
Last edited by The Black Serpent on Thu Jan 27, 2022 11:56 am, edited 5 times in total.

Wainrider
Points: 202 
Posts: 95
Joined: Sat Aug 29, 2020 9:36 am
Hidâr

Image


Hidâr is not a city but is a large army camp in the desert. Thousands stay and train here under the best. It is surrounded by lands of sand, shrubs and plains. There are even hills at a distance. This makes it the perfect place for training horsemen of all kinds. The region of Hidâr is famous for the breeding of one of the swiftest desert horse breeds. Want to be a proud cavalryman of Harad or an elusive horse-bowman? Sign up here!
Last edited by The Black Serpent on Thu Jan 27, 2022 12:00 pm, edited 6 times in total.

Wainrider
Points: 202 
Posts: 95
Joined: Sat Aug 29, 2020 9:36 am
Nâfarat

Image


Nâfarat is a very small, smoky village in the middle of the desert, with only a small oasis, some wells and desert vegetation to sustain itself. But it lies on no trade routes. There are no army outposts here. The people here eke out a miserable, dreary and fearful existence. Fearful because Nâfarat is where the famed Hasharins are trained. These are assassins and only the best are selected for hits. The captains here believe in live practice, and that means stalking villagers, investigation, interrogation and the subtle art of killing. Sometimes, students are pitted against each other. Hasharins are sometimes hired by Haradrim chieftains to carry out hits in other cities and towns. If you want to be trained as as assassin, here is where you will come.
Last edited by The Black Serpent on Thu Jan 27, 2022 12:06 pm, edited 4 times in total.

Wainrider
Points: 202 
Posts: 95
Joined: Sat Aug 29, 2020 9:36 am
Dhâran-sar

Image


In the beginning, the Haradrim used to train all branches of their army in one place. But soon a problem cropped up. Mumak, the massive elephants of the Southlands, killed men by the hundreds under their feet during training. The casualties were so massive at times that it was decided that the training of Mumak-mahouts and of their animals should be conducted elsewhere, and only the most trained of the beasts should be allowed to train in joint army exercises and musters. For this purpose, Dhâran-sar was chosen. Dhâran-sar is just like Hidâr. It too is surrounded by plains and deserts, but also by glasslands, shrublands, and hills. Here Mumaks are trained carefully to destroy anything that stands in the way of Harad.
Last edited by The Black Serpent on Thu Jan 27, 2022 12:06 pm, edited 6 times in total.

Balrog
Points: 5 867 
Posts: 3513
Joined: Mon May 18, 2020 11:02 am
Image Image
Die Blasphemie des Unlichts
The Great Desert, Near Harad

(Private)

The sun was hot, the air was hot, the sand was hot, the back of the camels was hot. Everything was hot. Enki looked, though, as if he felt none of it. She rubbed absently at the scar below her eye, how did he do that? Harnril felt something more than envy as she listened to him sing. They had been travelling through the Great Desert for days now. Her guide was adamant that his route was the easiest, fastest, and safest routine through it. She should have been suspicious of him from the start. The law of the triangle should have told her that what he was offering was impossible. Two of those could be true maybe, not all three. Still, she had been in desperate need to escape her mother’s palace and he was the only one willing to help. The half elf took a drink form the water skin slung under her armpit. The water was hot and unappetizing, but it was wet. She pushed herself up on the stirrups of her camel and tried to look over the horizon for something that looked different. For leagues and leagues and leagues there had been nothing but golden sand dunes, each looking so cliché that she was sure they were all manufactured to look that way. The air shimmered on the horizon, a haze obscuring everything beyond with an impenetrable barrier.

“Where are we?” she asked, cutting off the large Haradan man’s baritone singing voice.

“We are in the Great Desert, princess; where else would we be?” his tone was mocking but jovial. She was not amused.

“I know that. Where in the Great Desert are we? I feel like I’ve seen all these dunes before. You’re taking me in circles. And stop calling me princess. I am not a princess.” Not anymore.

Enki clicked his tongue in an arrhythmic pattern and the camel he was riding quickly pivoted and turned back around to face her. Beneath the heavy cloak, she could see his eye blazing with anger. “You think that I am leading you in circles? For what? What good would it due me out here to do that? We are two hundred leagues from your mother’s city, a hundred from the nearest oasis. If I am leading you about in circles, princess, I am killing myself as well.”

She had not thought of that, but the heat was making her irritable. “Then where are we?”

“I told you, we are in the Great Desert. There is no landmark anywhere nearby to say, ‘oh we are at old Ozymandias’ Grave’ or ‘by the waters of the Amrûn’.”

She glared him and threw off her hood, the sunlight bursting off her snow-white hair. “You said your route was the fastest and the safest, I must tell you Enki I do not feel safe at all and this is taking a very long time.”

He grunted and laughed. “Princess Harnril, you really do know nothing of the lands surrounding your mother’s city, don’t you? There is a route through the Great Desert, several in fact. They are well known and well-travelled. They are also full of brigands, thieves, and marauders. When I told you, my route was the safest and the fastest, it was not both of those at once, but each depending on one another. It is the fastest safe route I have found. If we had taken the Grand Highway, the one that cuts through the heart of the desert and reaches the oases, we would have been caught by raiders or your mother’s guards within two days. I think both of us would like to avoid that particular fate.”

“For the rate I am paying you…” the half elf began.

“For the rate you will be paying me,” the burly Haradan corrected. “You have only paid me half of my fee. I know where you are going and who you are going to see.”

“You are planning to rob me! You dirty scoundrel!” She grabbed the whip that lay coiled in a pouch of her saddle and cracked it at Enki. He had anticipated this and grabbed the tip out of the air like a cobra.

“Yes, I am planning on extorting you. The Great Desert is a dangerous place you mad girl! And the family you are going to see are rich, I deserve to get paid for my troubles.”

She hissed, the scar under her left eye began to turn red with rage. “You bastard!”

He laughed and yanked the whip out of her hand. “I would thank you not to talk about my parentage in such a way, especially given your own dubious origins.”

She fell silent, seething under a baking sun. Her parentage had been a source of embarrassment for much of her forty years. Her mother was the caliph of a sprawling city state, an Avar who and long ago refused the summons of the Powers in the West in favor of her own lands and laws. Her father was a corsair, an alsaahir, an outlander from the north. Harnril was the youngest daughter in the palace, all her siblings were pureblooded, and they never let her forget it. The scar she bore was a reminder from them that she was not welcomed in their home. Her mother, aloof and austere, refused to involve herself in the squabbles of her many children, preferring to let them fight for supremacy and, in turn, her love and affection. She held none of it for Harnril. This was the fourth attempt she had made to try and escape. Though her mother seemed to disdain her very existence, she refused to let her little jewel rest in the hands of someone else. It was through the drunken ramblings of a tutor that she even found out where her father was from: Umbar. He was from a wealthy family; he could protect her. He would have to; she was not going to give him a choice.

“How many more days do I have to endure this?” she finally asked.

“A few more days, amira. Then we are clear of the desert. There is a port city on the Poros where we can book passage to Umbar. Then I will escort you to your father’s house and deliver you and be rewarded handsomely for rescuing you from certain death.” He tossed her the whip and turned his camel back around with the same series of arhythmic clicks. Within a few moments, he was singing again, his voice carrying far over the desert sands.

Harnril pulled her hood back over her, her deep ocean blue eyes glimmer as the noon sun caught them. She cast a fearful, cautious gaze about her. The dunes, once mundane, looked sinister, as if they were hiding half a hundred warriors waiting to descend on her and either kill her or deliver her back into the hands of her capricious family. “Certain death?” she muttered softly. “You have no idea.”
Strange Fruit got holes in the flesh but it ain't gonn' spoil cause it never was fresh

Balrog
Points: 5 867 
Posts: 3513
Joined: Mon May 18, 2020 11:02 am
Image Image
Die Blasphemie des Unlichts
The Great Desert, Near Harad

(Private)

It had been a few days. There was no sight of river or settlement. They were lost, Harnril knew it. Phantoms of air and doubt crowded her thoughts. A dozen times she thought she saw her mother coming ahead of them, riding on the back of a great black desert horse, silver blade ringing in the clear air. She could hear the shouts of “death to the half-breed” and “kill the traitor”. But there had never been anything there. Mirages, Enki said. But there was something about these “mirages” that made the peredhel on edge. Everything out here put her on edge. The cloudless sky, the bright molten gold sun, and the endless expanse of sand in front of them. There was something not right about this desert. She asked him if they were lost yesterday morning, he growled at her, called her a know nothing child. That had not been a no. She asked how much further to the settlement, or to anything. He didn’t answer. Was it because he didn’t know? All these sand dunes looked the same. Their tracks went off in the horizon. She could see for miles and miles and all she ever saw as the same dull orange. She would be enraged if she wasn’t so tired. Every day they were out here in the desert she felt more and more of her strength sapped. Her thoughts drifted, unable to focus on anything. Twice today she’d fallen off her camel.

Had this all been a mistake? Her life under her mother and her siblings had been harsh, she touched the scar under her left eye, but at least she wasn’t going to die a slow death by desiccation. They had tried. Harnril’s memories were hazy of her early years, but she remembered more than once a stranger following her home or creeping around the edges of the palace. Accidents followed her too, walls collapsing, chandeliers falling. She had been naïve at the time. But that period of her life did not last long. She could never say which sibling had done what, or even if her mother had been involved somehow, but the last 25 years of her life had been spent on constant guard. It had taken that long for her to find a way to escape the oppressive, opulent prison. Was that better than dying out here? She looked up at the sun and squinted. She was not altogether certain. A knife in the ribs and a snide comment versus a slow suffocation.

Enki clicked his tongue and the camels came to a halt. The sun was still high in the sky. There was still time to go further? Her mind was cloudy, when she tried to focus on him, his image split in two then four then eight. “What… why are we… stopping?” her tongue was thick in her mouth, like a half animate slug. It was a foreign thing in her mouth, she gagged and spat up bile. She bit down on her tongue but there was nothing but a dull pain.

Enki turned back around and leapt off his camel. Despite his size, the man was as graceful as a gazelle. He moved like quicksilver, sliding over the sand and barely leaving a footprint. She looked at him hard, trying as hard as she could to focus on a single image of him. Was he part elf too? That would explain…

“Amira,” he said, his voice thick with concern, his eyes seemed panicked. “You are not well. You look…”

She fell from the camel, her body going limp as she lost her grip. He caught her, but he unbalanced too and staggered back, coming dangerously close to the edge of a dune. Her head rolled around and saw just how high up they were. The ground seemed to rush at her, whirling until she squeezed her eyes shut. “… like hell.” Enki finished. She glared at him, but when she tried to form words nothing came to mind. The edges of her vision was filled with black flies, crowding in until she was overwhelmed.

When she came to, the sun had set. The camels were resting and there was a fire going. Something was cooking over the small blaze. It smelled good. Her mouth watered, miraculously. When she tried to move, her head began to split open. She groaned, growled, then whimpered.

“Evening,” Enki said not looking up at her. He sat with his eyes fixed on the meat cooking and the stars beyond them. “You’ve been out for a while. I found a lizard hiding out and decided he would make a good meal. I know you’re used to dates and lamb but it’s the best we can do for now.”

She scooted closer to the fire. The desert was hellish with or without the sun, but without the lands were a frozen nightmare. The fire felt good. “How long?”

“How long, what? Were you out? Several hours. Until the food is read? A few more minutes. You saved me the trouble of waking you.”

“Why did…” she tried to speak but the pain in her head built to a crescendo, she whimpered and grabbed her head. She expected there to be some nasty gaping wound. There was nothing, no blood, no bone, no brains. Still, pain radiated from her skull like a small fire. Her eyes refused to focus, the more she tried to sit up and right herself, the more she felt like the world was about to turn upside down and she was going to fall off into the sky.

“Raiders.” He still didn’t look at her or acknowledge her pain in anyway.

“What? Out here on your secret route?” her head still hurt enough that she couldn’t see straight, but she could still stab at him.

“It’s not my route, amira.”

“Stop calling me that, my name, my name is Harnril. What do you mean not “your” route? You said…”

“Yes, yes,” he cut her off, waving a hand in her direction. “I know what I said. I use the route, but I don’t own it. I didn’t find it either. Certain… people use it from time to time. I thought they’d all been killed off. I was wrong.”

The pain was still excruciating, but Harnril forced herself up into a sitting position. She wanted to vomit but kept her gorge from rising. “They?”

“Old associates,” Enki said, finally looking in her direction. “The Whirlwinds. We…” he paused for a long time, “we were a mercenary group, sellswords, soldiers of fortune. We took a job for your mother about a decade ago, went bad. I left it behind. I thought they were all killed.”

“And you think you saw someone, out here?”

“I don’t think anything girl!” his face twisted in anger and spat in the fire. “I know what I saw, I know what I heard. I know this place and I know where we are.”

“Don’t raise your voice at me!” she shot back, perturbed.

She could hear the large Haradan’s teeth grinding. “Do not presume to order me about, Harnril.” His voice was deadly calm, but she could see the fire in his eyes. “I know what I saw because I know this place. We were coming close to our old hide out. I stash waterskins and supplies there still.” He turned and looked back toward the empty desert. He fell silent. She was about to say something snide about his brain getting cooked when her ears picked up something. It was faint at first, she almost mistook it for the wind. The sound horses. The sounds of men. It was far off yet, but they were coming closer. Panic gripped her stomach. She tried to stand but the pain in her head forced her back down. “Easy girl.”

“But, but there’s someone coming; you said you worked for my mother, what if, what if, what if they were still working for her and, and, and what if they’re tracking us down? Sandy gods, what are they going to do when they catch us?”

“Quiet!” he moved like an adder, he was up and had his hand over her mouth before she could scream. For a long moment, their eyes met, deep ocean blue and amber gold. The sounds of hooves and hollers grew louder and louder. He cursed and moved away from her. A blade, wide, sharp and glinting in the starlight, was in his hand as though it has always been there. She felt for the dagger at her side, fumblingly pulling it out. He shook his head. “No, that’s as bad an idea as there can be. You need to stay out of sight. Hide.”

“But… but, you’re just one man, how can…?”

“I am a ghost, I am a lion, a serpent, a vulture. I can be all that I need. I cannot look out for you at the same time. You are paying me good money to protect you. Let me do it.”

She nodded the stumbled backward, toward some of the rocks. She pressed herself to the ground, squirming about like a snake until she was as far under the stone as she could get. The sounds of the horsemen got closer and closer. She did not have a good line of sight. She could see the camels and she could make out his outline. The world exploded and horses and men appeared as if out of nowhere. They bore down on him. He was trapped! He was doomed! She closed her eyes, not wanting to see his end. But it was not the end, she opened her eyes a moment later and found three dead men laying on the ground. Horses screamed. Something snapped, it sounded like the breaking of cedar tree trunk. There was an explosion and the smell of acrid smoke. She saw a flash of light. There was something in that light. A shadow? It moved too fast for her to get a good handle on it. It was little more than a blur. How many men were there? Horses? She couldn’t tell. They were in constant state of motion and they all looked the same, they all kept moving in and out of the fire light. They were shouting in a language she didn’t recognize. They were foreigners, or from much further south. There was another scream and another explosion. Horses began to bolt, riderless. Then she heard to hollow echo of steel on steel. How was he still alive? How many were left? Finally, the sounds died down. She dared to move finally. The pain in her head was still substantial, but her focus had returned. Marauders apparently had that effect on people. When she could stand she gasped. There were more than a dozen bodies, horses and men, all torn to pieces, arms and limbs missing, blood everywhere, gashes from groin to neck, missing heads, blood, so much blood, there was a river of it streaming to, to him. Enki stood in the light of the fire. There was not a single scratch on him. He was covered in blood and sweat but none of it was his. His massive falchion was tinted red. The firelight made him look like one of the ancient Melechesh. She crept into the light. For the first time, she was truly afraid of him. He had something in his hand. It was covered in blood, she couldn’t see it.

“You’re safe, amira.” His voice was terrifyingly deep, like earth itself was speaking. “And we have more water and supplies. Fools called themselves the Whirlwinds, they were naught but spring breezes, an insult to the name. Your mother though, well she knows you’re not in your room sulking.” He tossed that bloody thing in his hand to the ground. It was a scroll with the mark of three ravens around the single star: her mother’s personal seal.

Harnril felt her stomach drop. She bent double and vomited.
Strange Fruit got holes in the flesh but it ain't gonn' spoil cause it never was fresh

Balrog
Points: 5 867 
Posts: 3513
Joined: Mon May 18, 2020 11:02 am
Image
Die Blasphemie des Unlichts
The Great Desert, Near Harad

(Private)

The smell was atrocious. Dead bodies left to cook out in the desert sun. Buzzards and carrion beetles had begun to do their work. The corpses of the Whirlwinds had been displayed in a double spiral pattern. Time had been taken to send this message. Asalluhi was reasonably impressed. How many men had it taken to accomplish this? A dozen? A score? More? His little sister was well protected, that much he could tell. A simple snatch and retrieve was not going to work, not if this gloriously gruesome display had anything to say about it. The camels did not like the smell any more than he did, the one beneath him bucked and neighed, pulling at its reins to get away. A buzzard sitting atop one of the corpses, its head bloody and strung with gore, looked up and squawked angrily. The creature’s wingspan was massive. The elf regarded the creature with wary disdain, their eyes locking in a battle of wills. The winds died down and the intensity of the sun increased. Neither of them broke their gaze. Gore and half consumed chunks of rotting flesh dripped from the buzzard’s beak. Asalluhi was not impressed. He never took his eyes off the creature as he drew back his bow, a recurved bow of palm wood and auroch horn, and loosed a green feathered arrow. The dart was true and knocked the massive creature off its perch in a shower of blood and feathers.

He smiled then turned his camel to face the men behind him. A score of heavily robed figures stood behind him. A century ago, his mother had given him leave to train his own personal guard. Apparently, her ever present paranoia had lessened. He was the first born, the heir to her mighty throne. And yes, he did have designs on it. But there was plenty of time for intrigue and plots, now it was time to bring that little mongrel to heal. Why his mother had not just given him leave to dispose of her he did not know. But that did not preclude him from giving his sibling another scar to match the one he’d give her years before.

“They cannot be more than a day or two ahead of us. We’ve caught their scent. Ride! We do not stop until they are found.” The chains rattled on his saddle, his sister’s reward for her attempted escape. One of the riders moved forward on his camel. He was taller than the rest, Asalluhi knew who it was, and smiled.

“If my extrapolations of the scene are… correct,” he began, “then we should be on the look out for no more… than one individual, clearly skilled but still just the one.” He had an odd, nearly mechanical way of speaking, his timbre and intonations would change halfway through a sentence, likely a byproduct of the perilous training the elven prince had put him through.

“One? One did all this? Tell me how you’ve come to that conclusion Kafir.”

“All the strikes… are the same, they come from the same height, from the same… blade. Even when accounting for those on horseback, they… are… all the same. One man.”

Asalluhi rubbed his chin. It was true. Now that he knew what he was looking for, he saw it. The angle of strikes, the length and cleanness of the cuts, all from the same position, all from the same man. He let out a whistle and chuckled. “The little weasel has managed to find herself quite the guide. Do you know who he is, Kafir?”

The man’s hood twisted and rumpled. “I have a theory, your grace, but I must have more information before… I can offer you something true.”

“Take three men and ride to the Whirlwinds’ cave. Don’t engage if they’re there. Tell me what you find.” A hawk screeched. Asalluhi turned in his saddle and offered his arm to the bird, who bounced from the camel’s rump to his proper place. “Take Iblīs with you. Send me a message then ride for the city of Ctesiphon. From here, that’s the only place they could be making for. Go!”

He snapped his fingers, the hawk screeched again and flew to Kafir’s shoulder, his talons digging in deep. The captain of his guard and three others whipped their camels into motion and disappeared into the sands like wraiths, silent as midnight fog.

“The rest of you,” he said with casual indifference, “a hundred crowns to whoever brings me this man’s head.”
Strange Fruit got holes in the flesh but it ain't gonn' spoil cause it never was fresh

Balrog
Points: 5 867 
Posts: 3513
Joined: Mon May 18, 2020 11:02 am
Image Image
Die Blasphemie des Unlichts
Ctesiphon

(Private)

The city of Ctesiphon was massive, yet it was empty. In the long days of the past, the city had been a capital, a shining desert gem of a king so opulently wealthy that he could afford to outfit his personal guard in opal studded armor. That king, along with all other Haradrim kings, had fallen under the yoke of the exiled Númenórean kings. Harnril had learned the names and places and rules of all the ancient kings. Her mother wanted to show her mongrel daughter just how powerful she was. She’d ruled before the island and had endured long after it sank. She had evaded the proud kings and their tall helms. She’d broken their ships and turned back their swords. At least that was the tale she liked to tell. Her daughter had long harbored doubts about the absolute strength of the Mad Queen Bee. As they approached the city, Enki told her a story about the city that she’d never heard from her mother’s tutors. The city had been built as the summer home of the king, crafted and constructed to please his newest wife. She had been born of folk that worshiped the river and being kept far away in the sand of the Great Desert had worn on her soul. As a token of love and devotion, he made the city a garden, reminiscent of the days before Númenor and before the elves. Harnril wasn’t sure how much she believed that story, but there were nuggets of truth in it. The reality of the city and its past laid somewhere between her mother’s teachings and Enki’s romantic tales. The towers were beautiful, conical roofs of painted clay shimmered against a sky of pure sapphire. Yet the towers were old, the roofs showed signs of plethoric age. The people of Ctesiphon milled around the streets like ants, scurrying from one location to another. They were all sorts of shapes and colors. Ctesiphon had lost its ethereal status as the hanging gardens but was still a powerful entity on the River Poros. It was no longer beautiful, but it was practical. Since the fall of the ancient king, the city had been repurposed into a port, every business in the city was predicated or dependent on the boats coming to and fro. The city had grown wealthy off the taxes it levied. Where that wealth went was anyone’s guess, the Harbor Lords were a secretive lot, not liable to give away such valuable information.

The trip here had been fraught with peril. Harnril had been half surprised she even made it to the city. The night they had almost been caught by the sellsword company had been eye-opening, in more ways than one. She knew her mother was after her, that she would send men as the ocean sends waves, and that Enki was not just a simple desert man. He had been quiet all the next day, the air grew heavy and laden without his baritone voice breaking the silence with a song or two. Harnril for her part had been too frightened to bring up what had happened. A day later and she was not sure any of it had really happened. Enki stood along against more than a score of men and horses. Yet he’d cut them all down as if they were no more than reeds in the river. He painted that hill in blood and displayed his defiance of her mother in a sanguine cadaverous monument. It had made her sick the first time she saw what he was doing, it had not been until later that she understood what it had meant.

“What are you?” she’d asked when two days had passed after the battle.

“I am Enki,” he’d said and refused to elaborate. It frustrated her to no end, his reticence, but when it became apparent that answers were not going to be forthcoming, she decided to drop it until a more opportune time. He’d grown more and more taciturn since that night, becoming more and more feral, meaner, and sharper. He had metamorphized into something she didn’t understand. He was as much beast as he was man. Who was this man, Enki? What secrets did he harbor? She tried to push the thoughts into the back of her mind, rationalizing that it had been fear that made her see the faeness in his eyes, and that it was none of her business elsewise. He would take her to Umbar and then they would part ways. It would be that simple. Be he man or beast, it was of no concern of hers.

They hid from hunters and raiders. Harnril was glad of this. Even though Enki had proven himself ferocious and capable, luck had a way of turning sour in battles and all it would take was one blade slipping in to end his life and, by proxy, hers. They’d come to an oasis, but Enki said there was something wrong with it. He’d forbidden her from refilling any of their waterskins or refreshing the camels. It was not until they were miles and miles away that he revealed what he’d seen: two dozen bodies trapped at the bottom, chained together. He couldn’t tell if it was the oasis itself that was the trap or raiders, but he wanted nothing to do with it.

Ctesiphon could not have come soon enough. And when the city finally loomed through the mirages, Harnril felt a weight lifted off her shoulders. It was not the end of the journey, far from it, but it represented the first real place she would set foot in as a free woman. It was where she could decide her fate.

“Two passengers, all the way to Umbar?” the riverboatman was fat and greasy and his brow seemed constantly soaked with sweat. He would wipe his brow here and there, but it never did any good, there was a permanent sheen that reflected the sun. “That would cost you eh, two hundred gold marks, per.”

“Two hundred gold marks?” Harnril wasn’t sure if that was exorbitantly high or just outrageously so, but it was too damn high either way. She looked to Enki, trying to read his assessment of the situation. Unfortunately, he was blank.

“The Autumn Dancer is not a slop,” the greasy man said, his face placid with an air of arrogance. “You get what you pay for, I give you opulence and comfort and the best food you can imagine.”

“And what about security?” Harnril asked.

“Security? Are you expect trouble young lady?” He was suddenly less friendly.

“No, but I also don’t want everyone in Ctesiphon knowing where I’m going.”

He looked at her with an appraising eye and his lip curled in annoyance. “Are you some runaway princess looking to escape your groom before the wedding?” He looked at her seriously for a moment, then burst out laughing, his belly jiggled obscenely.

Harnril wanted to slap him. She looked to Enki who only sighed and shook his head.

“We’ll pay two hundred marks total, plus you don’t announce us when we come on board.” Enki rolled his head to the side, looking at the Autumn Dancer. It was not a bad ship, but it was not worth four hundred gold marks. It wasn’t even worth two hundred, but times were what they were.

“Two hundred total? What sort of barge do you take me for?” he looked insulted. He spat and waddled off.

“Well,” Enki noted with a sneer, “that didn’t take much. Come princess, there are other riverboats in the city.”

“And they won’t charge us all the money I have left plus more?” Harnril was agitated, her scar itched.

“Well, perhaps they would charge less if you looked a little less like a queen’s runaway daughter…”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Harnril rounded on him, her jaw set angrily.

“Easy, I didn’t mean to offend, princess.”

“Stop. Calling. Me. Princess.” She interrupted.

“Put your hood up, slump your shoulders a little. That will hide your elven nature and make you less of a target.”

“Fine,” she said grudgingly, pulling her hood up. It was hot and the hood only made it hotter, the back of her head and neck was soaked with perspiration. She slumped.

“Not that much, you’re not a crone.”

She unslumped a little.

“There we go. Better. Let me do the talking. If anyone asks, you’re my cousin from further up the river. I’m escorting you to Umbar where you’re going to meet a prospective husband.”

The half-elf raised her eyebrow. “A husband?”

Enki broke in the first smile she’d seen on him in days. “or prospective wife if you’d prefer.”

She scrunched her lips into a frown. “I’d prefer no one.”

Enki nodded. “I feel much the same, still it’s just a cover story.”

“Fine,” she said again. “Husband it is.”

They traversed the docks, looking for something other than a fishing trawler. They found a merchant ship offloading cargo.

“Gon’ta Umbar? Well, tha’s a fair ways distant. An’ dang’rous beside. Wot you want to go there for?” the man had a thick accent that Harnril couldn’t follow. Luckily all she had to do was pretend to be a simpering, demure young bride-to-be.

“Times are tough, as I’m sure you well now,” Enki’s voice changed from gruff and gravelly to silken and smooth. “My young cousin has volunteered to meet a man in Umbar we hope might help end our family troubles. Debts to Gondorians and all that.” Both ship captain and Enki spat at the mention of Gondorians. Harnril almost did as well out of habit.

“Damned sharks they are,” the captain said, “not to be bold, young sir, but yor family made a bad move gettin’ involved with tha lot.”

“And don’t I know it, still what’s done is done. We’d pay handsomely though. A hundred and fifty gold marks for passage aboard your vessel. You could put us both to work as well.”

“Mmmmm,” he said, considering, “free labor’s not a bad thing. You ever been on a boat? What about you, young lady? You ever swabbed a deck?”

Harnril was about to open her mouth to answer when Enki spoke up. “Sadly, my young cousin has not, but I have, served in one of the Swamp Lord’s armadas in my youth.”

The captain was taken aback. “You don’ look near old enough for tha’.”

Enki laughed. “You flatter me sir, but that will not raise my offer.”

They both had a laugh. Harnril wanted to disappear. She bit her tongue hard to keep from sniping at both of them.

“Right then. We’ll leave tomorrow morning. We’re off at the fourth bell. I’d suggest you stay close, the streets can be rough at that hour. When you come aboard, report to Quartermaster Qakros, he’ll get you settled and give you tasks you’ll need to perform. You’re both going to work. I promise you that, and you’ll eat and sleep with the crew. I’m not a passenger ship, ya see. Only doin this out o’ the bottom of my heart. Can’t stand ta see a man’s family brought low by Gondorians.” He spat again, a thick, bluish glob. “But you’ll get no more charity, d’ya hear?”

“My family thanks you, from the bottom of our hearts. If this works, my cousin will name her first child after you, right cuz?”

Harnril cleared her throat and nodded. “Of course, Captain…”

“Cap’n Daedheldir at your service, young lady. Cap’n Daedheldir.

“Daedheldir it is then,” she smiled as sweetly as she could manage beneath her robe.

Enki handed the man a heavy sack of coins. He took one coin out and bit it. He looked satisfied and clapped Enki on the shoulder. “Glad t’ave ye both aboard. Remember, the fourth bell, and if’n ye don’t show, well that’s too bad fer ya.”

“We’ll see you then, bright and early,” Harnril said, not looking to Enki.

Tomorrow at the fourth bell. That’s when she’d be on her way to her father.

“Lady Harnril,” Enki asked as they made their way into the street again. “Are you sure about this?”

“I think you asked a little late, you already have the man his money.”

He groaned. “Not about that. About trying to find your family in Umbar. Are you certain that’s what you want?”

“What choice do I have Enki? It’s them or my mother.”

“There’s a third option…”

She stopped and looked at him hard in the eyes. “What? I… what do you mean?”

“You survived crossing the Great Desert, that’s no small feat. You could stay with…”

The affection in his voice was strange, it didn’t fit his demeanor. “You would make a hrovaquendi out of me? Part of a sideshow attraction?”

He sighed.

“I thank you for the offer, Enki. But I am set on this. House Nûlukhô is the only thing that will turn back the Mad Queen Bee.”

“For your sake, Harnril. I hope you are right. I have heard things about that house, about the Matron of Crows. There are rumors about her and the Cult of the Black Crown.”

“I’ve heard the same rumors. That’s what I’m counting on.”

“As you wish, my lady.”
Strange Fruit got holes in the flesh but it ain't gonn' spoil cause it never was fresh

Balrog
Points: 5 867 
Posts: 3513
Joined: Mon May 18, 2020 11:02 am
Image Image
Die Blasphemie des Unlichts
Ctesiphon

(Private)

Harnril wasn't hungry, but she ate nonetheless. The sky was black and starless outside, covered by a thick layer of cloud; even the moon hid his face this morning. The inn was chilled and empty. The fire in the hearth turned to embers hours before. Aside from her and Enki, there were only three other souls in the common room that early. They all looked burly and unfriendly. Two sat in a corner and argued in hushed tones over some payment that was due. The other sat in a shadowy alcove and smoked a pipe. His area was ringed with vanilla and cedar-scented smoke. The half-elf could just make his eyes, they were looking across the common room at some vague splotch on the wall. He was silent. Harnril was apprehensive. There was a feeling in her gut that something was wrong. Maybe it was being so close to freedom she could taste it, or maybe it was that she knew she’d get caught eventually and this was just the calm before the storm. She barely tasted the hummus and panir cheese. The movements from plate to mouth were mechanical. Enki, though, seemed to have no problem. He looked rested and alert. That meant there was one of them. How had he slept so well? He was still awake when she was nodding off near the midnight hour. Did he ever sleep? She sipped her chai tea. She couldn’t recall ever seeing him sleep. But he must, right? She stared at him over the lip of her cup. He seemed to take no notice of her. That was both reassuring and infuriating. He’d sold the camels last night. He told her that normally he would merely lease them to the tavernkeeper while he was away but given who was following them it was not likely he was going to be back for them any time soon. She’d seen how that hurt him. He’d had those camels for years, raised them from calves, trained them to respond to clicks rather than words or hands. Harnril felt a strong pang of guilt. If not for her, he would still have his camels. He received a good price for them, as far as she could tell.

There was still a lingering question in her mind. It had bothered her all night and troubled her sleep. Why had he suggested they go somewhere else? It was more than just a tactic to through off their pursuers. It was the closest she’d seen him come to making a personal plea. To do what he was suggesting though, that would mean she would become a hrovaquendi. She shivered and shifted uncomfortably just thinking about the word. She did not take most of what her tutors told her to heart, being propagandists for her mother, but when the subject of hrovaquendi came up her stomach would turn. Wild elf. They were the rejects from society, the loners that no one wanted, the chaff that gets blown away by the wind. According to legend, they were vicious and murderous, barely better than the animals they lived amongst. They were common in the First Age when the elven kingdoms were under constant assault. The hrovaquendi were as dangerous as the enemy. They were reckless and feral; there were legends that some of them turned into animals or commanded lightning or caused fires. There was something in their blood, some sort of transformation that occurred that made them… different. The lessons always said they killed everyone around them, that they served neither elf nor demon, only their own selfish whims. Some of the tutors even said it was them that sank Beleriand. A group had been called to answer for their crimes against their brethren and instead of allowing themselves to be judged and punished, they used their powers to break the world. Hrovaquendi were unpredictable. They were an evil that had to be stamped out. According to the historians, her mother had stamped out all the hrovaquendi in Harad at the beginning of the Second Age, before the Dark Lord reappeared with his rings and promises. It was the one boast they made that she hoped was true. Hrovaquendi were terrifying. They were a blight, a curse, an evil that would destroy the very land they lived on.

She’d had nightmares about hrovaquendi coming to steal her away and turn her into one of them, like a coven of vampires. It had always been a childish, sophomoric fear, one that only manifested when she was suffering a sufficient amount of anxiety and isolation. That fear had been growing and growing in the back of her mind, untended like a weed. She had not even realized it until Enki asked her to break from her goal and go with him. No one really knew how a hrovaquendi was made or born. Some of the historians believed they were just wrong from the start, a bad seed; others said it was the environment they were cultivated in. Still others said it was specific curse, one that could either be placed or sought out. Who would seek out a curse to lay upon themselves? What kind of madman would want to become a Wild Elf?

She looked at Enki again. He was looking about the place, bits of half-boiled eggs staining his fingers. She squinted. His ears. They didn’t look like elven ears, not exactly. She frowned. They didn’t look like elven ears because they looked like they’d been clipped, scorched, and pierced. She looked at his forearms. He had tattoos up and down his arms, shapes, and symbols that she’d not bothered to examine until now. His skin was dark and coppery, but the patterns were clear. Were those marks tattoos, or tiger stripes? A rotten feeling started welling in her stomach. She took a sip of tea and tried to tear her eyes away from him. The more she looked him over, his build, his movements, the words he’d spoken to her since accepting the job to guide her, the more she was convinced that he was not some simple desert wanderers, some former mercenary.

Enki, are you a...”

She never got to ask. The tavern exploded with fire and shouts and smoke.
Strange Fruit got holes in the flesh but it ain't gonn' spoil cause it never was fresh

Ent Ancient
Points: 2 696 
Posts: 1830
Joined: Sat May 23, 2020 11:34 pm
City of Karaskadar, Near Harad (private)

The city of Karaskadar is a place that should be buried beneath shifting sand or burnt to the bone by the heat of the unforgiving desert sun. The waters of the River Harnen and the peaks of the Grey Mountains, as they are called by other people, are distant landmarks, mere sketches on maps far from this settlement deep within the deserts of Harad. The seclusion is a blessing or a curse. Sometimes it depends on the day.

Great cliffs of vermilion sandstone tower in the distance, the only other sight breaking the horizon aside from the stony spires and palm trees that peek out from behind the wall encircling the city. For some, this place is an oasis of saving grace and for others, it is a death sentence. One never knows which way the winds will blow. Pale stone buildings cluster together as if this closeness might stop the windblown dust from settling in the cracks and piling up in corners, the desert taking the city and claiming it for its own. At sunset, the stone facades are illuminated with a brilliant, luscious scarlet; the color of life, blood, death, desire. With one final desperate pulse of violet, the sun cedes to night and a cool darkness envelops the city.

The night is dark, the moon but a pale sliver in the sky. A woman creeps into the streets, wrapped in layers of indigo silk so dark it is almost black as the night itself. A ripple of wind sends palm fronds rustling and prickles dancing across her skin. Her heart leaps into her throat. Not out of fear but at the thrilling anticipation for the task ahead. A cold, calculating hint of pleasure lifts her painted lips. Just ahead, her destination awaits. There will be no turning back after tonight.

Folds of silk fall to her elbow as she raises her knuckles to drum on the door. Moments later, a woman with a sun-wrinkled face and a mane of pale white hair greets her. She is old, yes, but her mind is still sharp. At least most of the time...now, her pupils are shrunk to tiny dots. The smell of poppy permeates the air.

“What are you doing here so late?” The old woman peers out from behind the door left ajar.

“I had a matter I wish to discuss with you, Master Mina.” The woman uses the reverent tones of a model student. “It could not wait. You understand that the curious mind will not rest, don’t you?”

Mina hesitates and the younger woman outside holds her breath. It is only a moment before the door sinks inward and she follows her mentor into a den where thick rings of smoke sting her eyes. “What is it you wish to ask?” The old woman crosses her arms, her irritation palpable.

The workshop is just steps away. Through the open door, the student glimpses shelves stacked with vials and jars glistening and glowing in an array of colors. Scratches sound from cages where all manner of creatures are kept hidden away. She meanders toward the room she knows so well, this place of her learning where hours were spent carefully honing her craft. She picks up a vial of crushed silvered powder and examines the contents, shaking it back and forth. “Do you remember when I asked you about extracting the venom of a rock viper?”

“Yes...and I told you you were not ready yet.” Mina does not hide her exasperation. “Be careful with that.” She takes the vial from her student and returns it to its place.

“You’re wrong.”

Like a viper, the woman strikes out for her mentor and lances her hand with a cactus thorn. All it takes is a single touch, a single pinprick of the imbued thorn to deliver the very venom she was denied, deemed too inexperienced to handle.

“What have you done?” Mina gasps. The venom moves fast. Faster even than her previous experiments on rats, birds and lizards. The old woman crashes to the floor taking a shelf of vials with her. They cascade in a shower of tiny shards that fall upon the old woman’s robe like snow.

“Did you think I would not notice your treachery?” The silk-shrouded student demands. “You, who has taught me so well? Too well perhaps. When the student becomes a master, she no longer has a need for a teacher. Didn’t you know that?”

Mina groans and clutches the wound on her hand. Her chest rises and falls as her breath hitches with panic. She knows. Yet she asks anyway. “What is this? Tell me it isn’t--”

“It is.” She hisses. “You told me I could not do it. I went to the cliffs, I found a rock viper and you are witnessing my success firsthand.” She presses her foot to the woman’s chest, grinding the shards into her. “Aren’t you proud?” She sneers.

“Why?” Mina croaks.

“You should have thought twice before you decided to try to poison me,” she spits. “Did you think I would not notice? Did you think you could offer me an antidote and keep me on a leash? Force me to be a loyal servant to your Lord in His faraway dark tower?” Her disdainful laughter fills the room. “I will never submit to you or Him or anyone else. You forget-- I am Soreya Zunkar and I bend to no one’s will but my own.”

The venom does its work and her mentor, the Poison Master of Karaskadar, stills. Her eyes say it all: I am afraid. She knows death is near. She is unable to speak as paralysis takes hold.

“I know you cannot feel a thing right now. Don’t worry, Poison Master.” Soreya smiles through eyes that remain cold and dark. “Soon you will be able to feel again. It will be agonizing and you will wish for death a thousand times before it finally claims you. And I will watch it all.”

She draws an orange from somewhere in her silks and peels the skin while Mina lays completely powerless, prone on the floor in the shards of her labor, descending into pure anguish. Every nerve, every fiber, every hair on her head will be on fire with unimaginable pain now. Soreya watches and bites into the fruit’s juicy flesh. The taste does not rival the sweetness of her victory. It is almost anticlimactic, disappointing, when she sees her mentor’s vacant brown eyes staring up from the vastness of death. It is over.

Soreya flings the orange peel on the dead body and spits on it for good measure. Before she leaves the former Poison Master’s home, she sets a single flame to light. It grows and grows until the workshop bursts with flames that build and crack and break into new bursts of red. The caged animals crawl and slither to freedom before her. The same freedom she claims with this act after playing the loyal student for far too long. Soreya Zunkar emerges from the ashes of her infernal prison with fire licking at her heels, clawing for more fuel. She stands un-scorched and free, armed with the deadly knowledge of a Poison Master, never to be a student again.

Before dawn breaks over the eastern cliffs and canyons, Soreya is already miles away from the city. Karaskadar is but a tiny speck on the distant horizon. It will be obvious who was responsible for Mina’s death. In one night, Soreya has earned herself a host of enemies. For now, it is worth the cost.

Wainrider
Points: 202 
Posts: 95
Joined: Sat Aug 29, 2020 9:36 am
*bump*

Wainrider
Points: 202 
Posts: 95
Joined: Sat Aug 29, 2020 9:36 am
Kâlakh-Hûl
The Serpent-Lord

The Prologue: The sword of Mardat
Image

His scarlet=clad warriors gave him a wide berth as he proceeded to the topmost towers of the palace. There the famed, and much-coveted artifact was kept by the current corrupt king of Karna. His men, who bore scimitars , spears, swords and shields were for from his own tribe, fell away before him, both out of fear and utmost respect. For among them, he was revered.

Kâlakh-Hûl wore a red linen war mask under a skull-shaped golden brass battle helm. What he looked like underneath the linen mask, no one new, not even his own men. His garb was highly extravagant. A purple cape draped over his all-scarlet clothes which were inlaid with jewels and decorated with serpentine symbols. For body armor, he wore pauldrons, vambraces with ivory blades, tassets, greaves, foot-plates and hand-plates, as well as a cuirass. His strong brown high hand carried a cruel scimitar, crooked an angled so as to decapitate with but a single stroke. In the clear light of dawn, it shone balefully.

All around them, the din of battle rose and fell. His army had attacked last evening, sending shockwaves across the city and beyond. His agents infiltrated the city along with the city's shepherds, traders and farmers, guising as one of them. Gate after gate was flung open to the invading army at midnight, which streamed through like an avenging, flaming serpent. Dismayed yet loyal to their master, then city's guard put up a morbid resistance. Feats of bravery were there on both sides, for were they all not of the same Haradrim blood, the blood that he desired to unite under one banner? The silver moon that shone down on Karna last night watched across a cloud-laced sky as corpses lay strewn on every street. Karna is a great city on a hill, and even with the element of surprise, the army of Kâlakh-Hûl faced stiff resistance around the king's palace. Only before dawn did all resistance fall. Only within the palace, the king's guard still fought on, exhausted yet belligerent.

Kâlakh-Hûl strode up the winding stone staircases to the tower. The top of the tower was shaped like a crescent, due to which it was fondly called Tower of the Moon. The floor was of marble, and stone pillar supported the ceiling. At the 'crescent' part of the tower had a balcony and overlooked the city. Kâlakh-Hûl went up there first to look upon the unfortunate city. Many parts of it were still engulfed in flames, flames with rose high in flight. Cries of fighting and of terror could he heard, but not above the shrill screams of the dying. He sighed once, but then turned away.

On the 'deep' side of the large room lay a smaller room, where only one single thing was kept: a single ornate chest. This was the thing for which the battle was being fought. It was necessary. Kâlakh-Hûl raised his scimitar up high and bought it down heavily on the lock. It broke and fell with a thud on the marble floor, yet the sound of his blow had been louder. No time was lost in opening the chest.

And there it lay! Resting on a deep scarlet cushion lay the legendary sword of Mardat. He brought up the sword carefully, as if it were made of glass. Every inch of the blade he observed: how smooth it was, and still so deadly. The blade and the hilt were strong still, while on the pommel rested an encrusted ruby. The hilt was of of rich golden brass and was ridged to afford a strong grip.
Image

"Now the tribes of Harad can be united. Now the Sunlands can shine brighter than ever before. Now would the enemies of the sons of the desert quail before our might," he proclaimed loudly to his men who streamed up the tower. They erupted in wild cries of rejoice, relief and of victory.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
At noon
Image

The frenzy of battle had died down. The city was subdued. There was a collective hush after the night and day of bloodbath. While the city still wailed for the departed, at the palace's audience hall there was still a dignified silence.

Kâlakh-Hûl now sat where the king used to sit, one hand grasping the hand rest while the other still grasped the legendary sword of Mardat. Around him were his most trusted warriors and advisors. There were also some very few nobles of the previous regime, who stood some distance away from the violent warlord. Most of them either escaped the city or were killed within in. Mostly the latter, for the attack came without much warning. Yes, the previous king was informed about a large army gathering in the countryside, yet he heeded no advice. To him, the city was strong and invincible. It was large, and no army had yet taken it by force.

"Bring out the skulking king!" cried the warlord.

High Warden of Tower
Points: 3 504 
Posts: 2316
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:58 pm
~ Struck Down But Not Destroyed ~
June, T.A. 3018
On the way from Umbar towards Barazôn (link to the used map here)


Leaving the city of Umbar seemed to take an endless amount of time; the large chest filled with wood chippings and straw, clay pots and all sorts of other random items at the back of a cart was not a very comfortable means of travel. First, there was the check, probably at the gate. Pele could hear voices discussing something, the lid of her hideout was opened and she did not dare breathe as she felt someone’s hand move some of the filler material and items above her. Then the lid fell shut again closing her in, the voices retreated, and soon the cart started off once more.

The heat inside the chest felt suffocating, and there was no way to find relief from it, and each bump on the road and accidental touch of some item or other caused Pele a whole world of pain, and she found herself coming close to blacking out more than once. She should not have taken to the road this quickly, but there had not been much choice as Relic would have figured out her location if she stayed in Umbar much longer. Many of the marks of burns and cuts were still fresh enough to cause agony at the slightest touch, and not everything could be bandaged else she would look like one big roll of bandage. While it had been too dangerous to stay in Umbar, and lay low long enough to heal, taking to the road was just as perilous.

After what seemed like an eternity spent in close fellowship with suffocating heat and intense pain, the cart finally came to a stop again, and the lid of the chest flipped open again.

“Well, come on out. The money your friend paid to me stops here, and I ain’t gonna take you along to my destination either way,” the man spoke in broken common tongue, reaching within the chest to grab Pele’s arm and pull her up into a seated position. With a groan she did what she could to scramble up so that the guy would stop pulling her arm. With great effort she finally stood on her own two feet on the ground and looked back at the burly, black-bearded man who looked her up and down with interest. He could possibly earn some more money and take the escaped slave back to the owner. However, he calculated the time it would take him to go back to the city and then return again, and frowned. The woman looked in a sorry state as far as could be seen from what was not covered by the well-worn sandals, and oversized trousers and shirt with sleeves that had been cut off above elbow. Whatever he would get in return would probably not even cover the costs of travelling back and forth, so he gave up on that idea.

“You go north-east from here across the wilderness, come to Barazôn after a day’s walk,” he waved in the direction he had just mentioned. He had done his part, and had no more care for what would happen to his live cargo next and if she would even reach the next town. Hopping back on his cart, he urged the mule forward again and moved off along the bend in the road taking him in a different direction. Pele looked after him for a while and then wrapped the shawl around her head and shoulders and picked up the bag with the few essential items Niera had found for her: a knife, some straps of cloth to be used for bandages, a pouch with dried fruit and nuts, and a waterskin. It was not much, but better than nothing, and she felt immensely grateful for everything Niera had done for her regardless of the fear from Relic’s retribution. At any rate, any attempts at trying to talk the woman into joining the escape had all been fruitless. Pele shook her head and sighed; she thought if it had to be death, it was better to perish in the wilderness rather than from Relic’s hand. Wilderness offered chances of survival. And to survive, she better keep moving before someone came on her standing there.

A day’s walk, the man had said, but it was easier said than done. Had she been rested and in full health, perhaps she would have run the distance in half a day, but in her present condition it took her days – or rather – nights. The days were too hot for travel, and she spent them hidden away under some shrubs, or a cave in the nearby hills, if she were lucky. Saving both strength and water as much as possible and hiding from any possible pursuit. At times she would manage to fall into a fitful sleep, just to startle out of it at the slightest rustle.

Nights, on the other hand, were pleasantly cool – outright freezing, if Pele were to be honest with herself, yet she had no tools to start the fire, and would not do so even if she had any. Instead, she tried to walk as fast as her injuries let her, having acquired a walking stick of sorts to assist in the process.

At the dawn of the fourth day, she could see the silhouette of a distant town rising against the sky, and she decided right away to avoid it. However, she was almost out of water and had just a handful of dried fruit left. As far as she could see, the land did not offer much in terms of both of these precious resources, and she’d have to make contact with some locals in an attempt to sustain herself. Not in a city. Perhaps if there are some outlying settlements, houses, or tents somewhere along the way. Barely holding on to a hope, Pele took a good drink from the remaining water and found that it would likely last her for just one more time. She found a hiding place under a thicket of bushes and settled down to wait out the day and preserve some energy.

During the following night Pele had made sure to keep her direction so as to avoid coming too close to the town, but the walking was becoming ever more difficult, and she found herself taking increasingly more rest breaks regardless of the freezing cold. At some point towards the morning, she had come upon something that seemed to be a well-travelled road leading north, and she set off along it, turning her back towards the distant city.

She had emptied the last of her waterskin sometime during night, and now the thirst was setting in along with the warmth of the morning. She had to find water! Shivering regardless of the increasing warmth, Pele ran her hand through her hair which now barely reached her shoulders. She had asked Niera to cut off the tangled and matted length of what she once used to wear as a braid. Weary, she stood for a while, using the grey morning light to look for something that would hold a promise of water. Spotting a leafy plant by the roadside with a few dew drops still on it, she hastened towards it to collect the precious drops before the sun could dry them. Carefully kneeling next to the plant, Pele let the dew roll down the leaf and into her mouth, but all it seemingly do was only increase her feeling of thirst. There were only a few leaves on the plant, and even less of those had any dew. Feeling desperate, she remained kneeling by the plant, but despair was her enemy, and she willed herself to move on. Only another moment of rest, and then…
Image

High Warden of Tower
Points: 3 504 
Posts: 2316
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:58 pm
~ Struck Down But Not Destroyed ~
June, T.A. 3018
On the road north from Barazôn


Slowly and unsteadily Pele got herself back on her feet, looked up and down the road, and began to move forward yet again. The sun would soon begin to beat down mercilessly and she would have to look for a cover, yet she hoped to come by some source of water before that. She could already feel the effects of dehydration set in, and the heat would make things much worse even if she sat in a shade.

Her eyes searched the terrain as far as she could see, coming to rest with hope on what looked like a shaded rocky canyon among the rolling dunes and bare rocks. Her step hastened slightly as she focused on the sight that might bring her relief, yet after a while she heard distant voices and looked back. A company of Haradrim soldiers were marching down the road, something Pele did not wish to encounter if she could help it. She turned off the road, climbed over the nearest dune and rolled down its other side, coming to rest at the bottom of it on her back. Biting back a groan of pain, she lay still for a few moments, and then started in the direction of the canyon again, this time out of the view of any passing on the road and her pace hindered by the soft sand.

When she reached a place where the view towards the road was clear again, she paused to investigate. The soldiers had already moved past her, marching at a steadily fast pace, so the Gondorian returned to the road. After what seemed ages of suffering increasing heat, Pele finally reached the canyon, she turned to follow along the bottom of what seemed like a bed of a stream - it was still slightly damp in some places, and to her relief she then spotted what could only be called a puddle. But it was water. She knew there were dangers of drinking from an unknown source, but she did not have much choice. Kneeling by the water, she began scooping it up by handfuls - she drank her fill and then splashed some water on her face. She then pressed the cool wet hands against her face and closed her eyes for a few moments, allowing herself to relish in the provided refreshment.

Then she chose a shaded spot against one of the rocky walls and settled down. It protected her from the heat, and at the same time she could also see a little bit of the road and anyone travelling along it. She decided to rest a little, and then try and fill some of the water into her waterskin. Laying back against the cool face of the rock, Pele closed her eyes and tried to ignore the various pains. There was not much she could do about it - she did not have any healing supplies, nor could she rest anywhere for a long periods of time. She was aware that she was likely to end up dying either from thirst or from infections, but it was still a better option than letting Relic end her life. Then the weariness took over, and she drifted into a shallow slumber.
Image

Steward of Gondor
Points: 5 586 
Posts: 2652
Joined: Wed Sep 01, 2021 10:12 pm
@Pele Alarion

"Di'rok"
June, T.A. 3018


It was quite intriguing to find a woman out here, in the middle of the desert. Some distance from the road, and clearly in very bad condition. Also clearly not from around here. Very interesting indeed. "Di'rok" as he called himself in these lands.. he had seen many things in his long life. He'd seen and known many women in his life. But this might just be the first time he'd come across a badly wounded woman out in the desert, so far from her native land. Gondor if he wasn't mistaken. For he knew Gondor just as well as he knew this land, and other lands. He traveled far and often, and no more belonged in these lands than that woman did. Yet, he was dressed more appropriately for the desert, having adopted attire much like the Haradrim. It might look a bit odd on him, given his fairer complexion and all, but at least he was better equipped to handle the heat.

Having stopped his wagon, Di'rok had sat for a while observing a pair of birds circling overhead. Eventually, curiosity had overcome him, and the man followed the path of a mostly dried up stream bed until he came upon her. He then stopped to watch for a moment. It looked like she might be breathing. Finally, he ventured closer and nudged the woman in the side with his boot. "Hey. Hey, lady. Wake up, if you don't want those buzzards to feast upon your flesh." He spoke in the language best known in the White City, assuming that was likely to be the one this woman would know.
Last edited by Rillewen on Fri Mar 08, 2024 9:41 am, edited 1 time in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

High Warden of Tower
Points: 3 504 
Posts: 2316
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:58 pm
~ Struck Down But Not Destroyed ~
June, T.A. 3018
On the road north from Barazôn

@Rillewen

Pele had drifted off into an uneasy slumber, pressed by the sun which had now climbed higher in the sky and stolen some of the shadow the side of the rock had provided for her before. The nudge in the side caused an instinctive reaction from her, and she quickly curled up to protect herself as her eyes flew open immediately. It took her a moment to realise where she was and that this was not a continuation of those seemingly endless days and nights when she was rewarded with more pain whenever she dared to close her eyes in weariness or even when her body gave way and she had slipped into unconsciousness.

The view of the sand-covered ground before her helped Pele to come to terms with the current reality, and then her gaze settled on the pair of boots before her. Slowly her look travelled up from the boots to rest on the man's face for a while. He did not seem to look like a local, and yet... Pele scrambled up into a seated position, her hand searching for the comfort of the knife hilt. She did not trust the stranger and prepared to defend herself if need me.

"Birds would not get me while I'm still alive," she responded slowly, still observing the stranger with suspicion. "I'd eat them first."
Image

Steward of Gondor
Points: 5 586 
Posts: 2652
Joined: Wed Sep 01, 2021 10:12 pm
@Pele Alarion

"Di'rok"
June, T.A. 3018

The woman stirred, and so he was satisfied to see that she was still alive, at least. He watched in silence as it seemed to take her a few seconds to get her bearings and take a look at him. She looked alarmed, to say the least. Suspicious, wary. Not surprising, in lands such as these. And rightly so, he had to admit. He didn't mind, and mostly found it slightly amusing. If he had in mind to harm her, she was in little condition to stop him. And he would not have awakened her first, if that was his goal. A faint smile tugged at his mouth as she declared she would eat the birds before they ate her. He stepped back a tiny bit in order to give the woman a little room, and so he could take a better look at her. His brownish-gray gaze took in her condition, and observed the burns and any other visible marks, along with any bandages peeking out from her ill-fitting clothes. Some places of her clothing had red splotches where the wounds had begun bleeding through those bandages. And overall, the woman looked starved and dehydrated.

"I dare say you would," He answered with vague amusement at the defiant tone. "You look starved enough, anyway. But you can't fight off the sun and heat with that knife," He motioned toward the blazing ball of fire hanging overhead, "And you won't find much water for many miles. The birds are patient enough to wait." He pointed out. It didn't really concern him, except that he was intrigued, and wondered if there might be some profit for him, by getting involved. "I have a good supply of water, and wine, if either interests you." He mentioned, pointing back toward the road where his wagon awaited. "As well as food." He added, smiling slightly. "Better food, I imagine, than raw buzzard flesh. If you're interested." The offer was made, leaving it up to her to take it or leave it.

"I'm heading north, if that further interests you." He mentioned after giving her a moment to decide about the food. "You look Gondorian, am I right? I'll be going to Gondor, sooner or later. I wouldn't mind some company along the road.. and you look like you'd be better off not having to walk. But I'm only assuming." He acknowledged. "Perhaps you have business in this land. Perhaps you prefer to stay here. In that case, I would not hinder you from your goal, but the offer exists, should you wish to accept it." He declared, and offered a smile. "I am called Di'rok in these parts, by the way."
Last edited by Rillewen on Fri Mar 08, 2024 9:41 am, edited 1 time in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

High Warden of Tower
Points: 3 504 
Posts: 2316
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:58 pm
~ Struck Down But Not Destroyed ~
June, T.A. 3018
On the road north from Barazôn

@Rillewen

Carefully, Pele settled herself more comfortably as she listened to the man's offers and observed him. It did not appear that he was about to attack her immediately at least, though she was not sure whether he would not think of any such thing later on should she agree to join up with him. Her blue eyes narrowed, as she studied his rather amused expression. Apparently her vain bravado entertained him for he clearly saw her condition, and she herself was only too aware of it.

She was not too fond of an idea to go with the stranger, suspicious of his motives; however, she did not really wish to let the wilderness take her either. Often she had wished for death in her despair, yet death had not come, and now she only realised how much she desired to live. Water... She licked her dry lips and glanced at the puddle she had used as the source of much needed liquid, and then thought of an opportunity to have a fill of fresh, clean water. And food - she could perhaps still do without it for a while, yet she would not be able to get that far without it either. She already had barely enough strength to stand, or to drag her feet.

"I'd rather not end up as a reward for the birds' patience," Pele eventually admitted, an inkling of smile about her face. "But I don't have any coin to pay you for water or for any other benefit, as you can probably guess. Not unless you intend to wait until Gondor." She still doubted that he would help her simply out of kindness, it was not a custom here in Harad, even if he were not one of the Haradrim. What could she offer him in return? She would not mind working for any food and water she used up, but she might prove to be a poor worker until she could heal up a bit more.

"I do come from Gondor,"
she then confirmed his guess. "You can call me Pele, though suppose they call me the Alarion here." She wondered how far the word of a captured Gondorian warrior had spread and if he had heard such whispers. At least Relic seemed to suggest that she had received a plenty of offers for her and could have sold her for a good amount of fortune if she wanted to. What if he took her back to Relic for a good reward? Pele glanced at the man to gauge his reactions. She could have come up with some sort of a nickname to use, but now it was too late for that. But perhaps he would not know? It has been a long time already... months?... since she had been brought to Umbar - perhaps the news had become old by now and had been forgotten.
Image

Steward of Gondor
Points: 5 586 
Posts: 2652
Joined: Wed Sep 01, 2021 10:12 pm
@Pele Alarion

"Di'rok"
June, T.A. 3018

Di'rok remained standing where he was, waiting patiently while the woman debated about whether she wanted to accept the offer of help or stay and die in the wilderness. At last, it seemed he had won her over, at least a little bit. He offered a faint smile as she admitted she'd rather not provide a feast for the buzzards. "Smart thinking," His smile increased marginally, then. "Did I ask for any coin?" He inquired, then shook his head slightly as if the idea were nearly insulting. "Don't let my attire fool you. I don't come from this land." He shrugged. "If you feel you owe something in compensation, we can work that out later." He was already thinking up a variety of ways she might repay him for this, but there was no need to bring up those things now.

As the woman gave up her name at last, Di'rok tilted his head in curiosity. He had heard that name, Alarion. Where did he hear that before? He decided to pretend not to be interested in that one, and used the other instad. "Pele," he repeated thoughtfully. "Well. Come along then, Pele." He held out a hand to assist her up, and gave a vague smile. "If I'd wanted to harm you, I wouldn't have awakened you first." He pointed out, in case she was still hesitant. "And even now, I daresay I could overpower you without much effort, if I so chose." With that said, he let her choose whether to accept the assistance onto her feet or not, then motioned toward the wagon he had left. "This way. Can you walk, or will you need any assistance?" He inquired, with a concerned tone added into his voice.

Motioning in the direction of where he had left his wagon, he let her choose whether she accepted any help or not, but either way, he would move at her pace, assuming she would be slower due to her injuries. As he headed toward his wagon, it returned to mind where he had heard that name. The Alarion, yes, he'd heard all about that. How interesting. Perhaps this might turn to his favor sooner than he expected. Regardless of whether Pele could offer any recompense of her own for his trouble, there was sure to be quite a reward offered for the return of an escaped slave. He'd definitely keep that in mind, but figured she wouldn't be worth very much in her present condition, anyway.
Last edited by Rillewen on Fri Mar 08, 2024 9:41 am, edited 1 time in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

High Warden of Tower
Points: 3 504 
Posts: 2316
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:58 pm
~ Struck Down But Not Destroyed ~
June, T.A. 3018
On the road north from Barazôn

@Rillewen

It seemed that the man was generally trying to be nice, but something about what he said rubbed Pele the wrong way. She felt as if those words did not assure her that he was harmless but rather made her keenly aware of her helpless condition. She had done her best to hang on to any remains of dignity and pride though her captors had done everything in their power to destroy those, and now whatever was left of her pride seemed to rise up in rebellion. She took a deep breath to hold in check the annoyance and bit back the sharp words that were on the tip of her tongue. Instead she simply accepted his outstretched hand and struggled to her feet.

Collecting what little things she had, Pele followed Di'rok towards his wagon. "I can walk; have gotten myself this far," she told him, though she was aware that 'this far' was not very far from Umbar and that she might end up unable to walk should she end up without any water or food for another day or two.

"Are you travelling alone?" she then inquired as they walked together. "I mean... the roads here must not be that safe."
Image

Steward of Gondor
Points: 5 586 
Posts: 2652
Joined: Wed Sep 01, 2021 10:12 pm
@Pele Alarion

"Di'rok"
June, T.A. 3018

Di'rok nodded as he walked. Clearly she could walk, so he had no doubt she could make it as far as his wagon. "Yes, I travel alone usually. Occasionally, I have company." He smiled slightly as she mentioned the roads weren't always safe. "Quite true. But I'm not terribly worried for myself. I've been traveling a long time, and I can take care of any trouble like that." He shrugged dismissively. It helped matters, having contacts and working out certain arrangements with folks who would do harm to others. Di'rok happened to have made many such arrangements in the various places he frequented. But he saw no reason to tell this woman all about that.

The wagon was still where he had left it, the horse patiently waiting. There was a collection of goods assembled on the wagon, and even more would be found inside under the roof. Arriving, the man reached in near the seat and grabbed a canteen, which he passed to Pele. "It's not cold, but it's better off that way. Best take it slow." He had no idea whether she knew anything about traveling in the desert. "Small sips." Letting her take the water, he went to a pack and dug out some jerky and hard tack. "There, that oughta help some. I s'pose you'll need some bandaging too." He nodded toward one of her wounds that had bled through the bandage she had already. "I'll see what I've got." Climbing up into the front of the wagon, he went to look through a bag of medical type supplies that he kept under the seat, for just in case.
Last edited by Rillewen on Fri Mar 08, 2024 9:41 am, edited 2 times in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

High Warden of Tower
Points: 3 504 
Posts: 2316
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:58 pm
~ Struck Down But Not Destroyed ~
June, T.A. 3018
On the road north from Barazôn

@Rillewen

Once they had reached the wagon, Di'rok made good on delivering the promises of refreshments he had offered, and Pele gratefully accepted the water first. "Thank you," she simply said, and then tried her best not to gulp down all of the liquid from the canteen. Here, while in the captivity, she had learned to appreciate every drop of water and every bit of food, no matter by what way it was provided. If she wanted to survive, the pride had to be set aside. Meanwhile she glanced over at what she could see of the items in the man's wagon trying to guess what was it that he did, what were the things he traded in. The first glance did not offer her much, and she decided to be patient and not question the man too much at first. He did seem confident in his ways around here, that much was clear.

Pele then slowly munched on the food he provided, and looked on as he went searching for bandages. She knew she'd have to change most of her bandages and make sure the wounds do not become infected, but she did not feel like she could simply use up all of the bandages Di'rok might have. At least the most serious wounds would have to be looked at - she had not checked since she had run out of her own bandaging supplies, but she suspected there might already be an infection somewhere since she was not sure the feverishness she felt was only from the heat and her general poor condition.

Turning her back to the wagon, Pele observed the landscape in silence, not feeling in the mood for much small talk. While she had a general idea of how the lands looked - on the maps - it was a whole different matter to be here and realise the real harshness of the climate, the distances, and the awareness of not really knowing where she was and where she was headed, except for a general direction towards Gondor. She wondered to herself how long it would even take to get back home, perhaps if the man turned out to be reasonably agreeable and indeed travelled in the direction she needed to go...
Image

Steward of Gondor
Points: 5 586 
Posts: 2652
Joined: Wed Sep 01, 2021 10:12 pm
@Pele Alarion

"Di'rok"
With Pele
June, T.A. 3018

"Sure." He replied to her thanks, with a shrug. He took a moment to check that he had pulled out the correct case from under the compartment beneath the seat while the woman was looking off at the desert. Then, once assured of the fact, Di'rok hopped down from the wagon seat, the box of medical supplies in his hand. "Hang on a moment. I'll open the back of the wagon and you can sit down in the shade while we do this. It'll be more comfortable, at least, to get out of this heat."

Walking around to the back of the wagon, he opened up the doors at the back of the wood-sided wagon, revealing miscellaneous goods, from brooms and tools to cookware and other utensils, even some used-looking armor and a few weapons. There were cases of things she would not be able to see unless she looked inside, but some of those contained jewelry or knives or other things of that sort, while others might contain silverware, or just about any random things that people might be interested in buying. There were a couple of chests near the front wall, one filled with clothing and other accessories, the other with blankets and other such things. "I doubt you're interested in buying anything since you have no money, but welcome to my shop, nonetheless." He said with a smile and a flourishing sweep of his arm toward the 'shop', then motioned for her to take a seat at the back edge of the wagon.

There was a barrel at one corner, containing long items; brooms, shovels, walking staves, some long weapons like swords and bows, and other assorted things like that. Saws and other tools were hung on the frame, as could be hung, while other items were secured as well as could be on the shelves that lined the inside of the wagon's side walls, and bins filled with things like fabric, ribbon, yarn. Some children's toys were collected in one bin, and while the whole place might look at a glance to be filled with random stuff, it would become evident after a longer look that everything was, more or less, organized well enough. A narrow 'aisle' went down the center of the wagon, with just enough space for him to walk in and look through his stuff, or pull things out and show it to prospective customers. There was also enough room to roll out a bedroll there, and there was one set aside off in one corner.

"There. I'm not any healer, but I know how to change a bandage, anyway." He smiled to himself at the thought of various fights he'd survived and had to patch himself up after. Having no idea that the woman knew more about this than himself, Di'rok set the medical box down on the step at the back of the wagon. "How did you end up like this, anyway?" He asked, in a tone suggesting casual curiosity.. although he had his suspicions, based on what he had heard about 'The Alarion', and the source of that information. He opened the box and pulled out a few basic supplies before glancing at Pele again. "I'll need to be able to see your wounds, you realize."


(wagon is something sort of like this and this btw)
Last edited by Rillewen on Fri Mar 08, 2024 9:42 am, edited 1 time in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

High Warden of Tower
Points: 3 504 
Posts: 2316
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:58 pm
~ Struck Down But Not Destroyed ~
June, T.A. 3018
On the road north from Barazôn

@Rillewen

Pele simply stood, enjoying the nutritious morsels and more of the water, aware of how much she now cherished these seemingly simple things in life. And when Di'rok spoke to her again, she just nodded at first, and then took another long drink of the water before setting the canteen aside. She could not just empty all of it, could she?

She then moved around to the back of the wagon and with some curiosity inspected the contents as far as she could see without getting in properly. There were a few things she would find useful, especially weapons and things to supplement her pretty useless survival kit. Yet, there was the issue of having no means to pay for any of it, as the trader had reminded her.

"It surely looks like you have everything someone might want or think of," she observed, a shadow of a smile touching her face for a moment or two. She then carefully set down and looked at the medical supplies Di'rok had.

"Do you happen to have some soothing ointment, or a bit of honey at least?" she queried, and then shrugged, avoiding eye contact. "Suppose can't really expect superb hospitality from enemies. This is the extent of hospitality mine extended to me," she explained as vaguely as she could, and then turned the conversation back to the supplies. "I wouldn't want to use up all of your bandages, but might need a fresh bandage on the hand." She lifted her left hand with a somewhat soiled bandage around the partially missing pinkie. "And perhaps the back where I can't reach." Technically she would need to have other wounds looked at as well, but she was not sure she wanted to encumber the man with all of those, at least she could handle the ones within reach herself.
Image

Steward of Gondor
Points: 5 586 
Posts: 2652
Joined: Wed Sep 01, 2021 10:12 pm
@Pele Alarion

"Di'rok"
With Pele
June, T.A. 3018


"Well, I do try," he answered with a small shrug, and a smile, when she mentioned him having a little bit for everyone's needs. And almost immediately, the injured woman put that to the test, requesting some sort of ointment or..honey. It had been quite a while since he'd heard of anyone using honey on a wound, but.. the memory was there. A young woman he had known long ago had told him of that trick. Gees, that was ages ago, back when he was a young guy.. in his twenties? Yeah that sounded right. Putting all that 'ancient history' to the back of his mind once more, the traveling salesman tilted his head as he listened to his guest speak about the 'hospitality of enemies'.

"Hm.." Di'rok gave a neutral sort of answer while thinking about what that likely meant, and turned his attention toward her request. "Let's see what I've got." He answered, and reached into the medical box, shifting a few things around as he searched to see what was available. "As it happens," he grinned and pulled out a jar of ointment which contained certain healing herbs as well as honey, "I have this." He didn't even remember where it had come from anymore. He only occasionally had any need to dig out this box, so he hardly kept track of what was in it or where this or that item had come from.

"Will that suffice?" He wondered, presenting the jar to the patient. "Let's start with whichever wounds are most serious, and see which ones need tending, hm?" He set the jar down and reached to take the hand she had lifted, so he could begin unwrapping the old bandage, unless she withdrew or protested. "So what enemies are these that you speak of?"
Last edited by Rillewen on Fri Mar 08, 2024 9:42 am, edited 1 time in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

High Warden of Tower
Points: 3 504 
Posts: 2316
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:58 pm
~ Struck Down But Not Destroyed ~
June, T.A. 3018
On the road north from Barazôn

@Rillewen

"Ah, you do have something," Pele said quietly, and picked up the jar. Taking off the lid she smelled the contents of the jar to try and determine the ingredients. She could not guess everything for sure, but she still nodded her head in satisfaction and set the jar back down. "Seems good."

As Di'rok reached for her hand, Pele found herself reacting instinctively in an attempt to protect herself from pain. She quickly removed her hand, then realised what she had done and reached the hand back out. "I would not want to lose more of this hand, so it would be good to at least check this injury to make sure no infection has set in," she spoke, deciding not to comment anything on her previous reaction.

"I suppose most of the people here would become enemies on sight, seeing that I am a Gondorian," she replied evasively to his question about enemies. She was not sure she wanted to provide any names - who knew whose side he would take if he found out. "Corsairs, slavers..." Pele's blue eyes flashed angrily for a moment, looked away to bring her temper back in control, and then returned a question of her own. "It seems like you are quite unconcerned by either of those."
Image

Steward of Gondor
Points: 5 586 
Posts: 2652
Joined: Wed Sep 01, 2021 10:12 pm
@Cubanopele

"Di'rok"
With Pele
June, T.A. 3018


"Ah, you do have something," The woman commented.

Di'rok smiled. "Well, as you observed a moment ago, I do have something for everyone." He reminded her, preparing to take the injured hand she had held up. Then he paused as he watched her jerk her hand away. Before he had a chance to make any comments about how he wasn't going to hurt it, she seemed to think better of the action, and offered it back to him. "They hurt you pretty badly, didn't they?" he commented quietly, beginning to slowly unwrap the bandage.

As he removed the last bit of the blood-soaked bandage cloths, he frowned to notice part of the finger missing. That gave him only a slight pause before he pieced together what she'd meant about not losing any more of the hand. He frowned and reached for a bottle of something. "You talk as if you know a bit about tending wounds." He commented. "Maybe you'd be better at recognizing infection." He held up the bottle of strong alcohol stuff. "Do you need to put any of this on it? And do you need any of my aid at all, aside from where you cannot reach?"

He smiled a little more in amusement as Pele again mentioned something about him not seeming worried. He had told her as much earlier. But he shrugged. "No, folks like that have learned to leave me alone." He assured her, a bit evasively. "Over my years of traveling, I've given them good reasons to leave me alone." He allowed the lady to see a hilt of a dagger at his side, though it was hidden by the loose desert type garments he wore unless he chose to reveal it. He smiled and let it be hidden once more, intending to let her believe that his fighting skills were the reasons why those folks left him alone. "And what of you, Pele?" He asked. "Can you actually use that knife you brandished at me earlier, or is that the result of your attempts at using it?" He half-teased with a nod at her hand injured.
Last edited by Rillewen on Fri Mar 08, 2024 9:42 am, edited 1 time in total.

High Warden of Tower
Points: 3 504 
Posts: 2316
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:58 pm
~ Struck Down But Not Destroyed ~
June, T.A. 3018
On the road north from Barazôn

@Rillewen

Pele muttered quiet yet angry words aimed at her captors when Di'rok half asked and half stated that she was badly hurt. The fact was only too obvious, no matter how much Gondorian would like to hide it or deny it.

"I could definitely need your help in reaching places where I can't myself and help replace the bandages when necessary. I am a healer," she said, now in her usual voice. It seemed that at least her hand was beginning to heal reasonably well, though she was not so sure of other wounds. "No, no alcohol on this wound. It is clean and is healing well, and the harsh substance would make the healing slower. It can be used where it is clear that cleaning is necessary. A bit of that ointment though, and a fresh bandage would be awesome."

Pele gave his dagger hilt a passing glance and doubted that it would suffice in a situation when the attackers showed up in overwhelming numbers. She did not speak her thoughts out loud on that matter, instead she carefully applied a little of the ointment on what remained of her finger. After a moment of silence, she said: "I can handle myself with a knife, or any other weapon for that matter." She was keenly aware that no matter the level of her weapons skills her current condition would mean an easy victory for any opponent.

"Assistance please?" she asked then quietly, erasing the frown from her face. "I might use an extra hand to secure the bandage properly..."
Image

Steward of Gondor
Points: 5 586 
Posts: 2652
Joined: Wed Sep 01, 2021 10:12 pm
@Pele Alarion

"Di'rok"
With Pele
June, T.A. 3018


"A healer?" he repeated in mild surprise, giving her a more thoughtful look now. A healer, in need of healing. It was a bit amusing, really. But he made no comment. She did seem to know about healing, as he had previously commented. More than himself, anyway, despite his long years of patching himself up from time to time. When she declared she did not need any alcohol on that wound, he gave a brief nod and set it aside. "If you say so." He was thinking more now. A healer was a bit of a valuable thing to come by. Perhaps this would be more profitable than he first thought. But, as before, he would prefer to get her patched up a bit more.

"A fresh bandage, then." He selected a roll of bandages from the medical box and waited while she applied ointment to her finger. When Pele asked for help, he gave a small nod and held that out to her. "Just tell me what you need done, Miss Healer, and I shall do it." As the bandage was wrapped around her hand, he assisted in any way she requested, making sure that the bandage was tied securely and as well as possible. He had an interest in ensuring that she healed well, after all, and if she suffered from infection and ended up dying, then it would only be a waste of his supplies and efforts. He wasn't one to waste either of those things. "Where else do you need bandaging?"

"Any weapon, hm?" he remarked curiously. "A healer and a warrior, then?" he asked with an intrigued glance at her. "One doesn't come across a combination like that every day. And yet, here you are, badly wounded and stranded in the desert.. far from home. What happened?" A well-practiced sound of concern mingled with sympathy and curiosity could be heard in his voice. "Do you have any family looking for you? Perhaps we might try to get a message to anyone who might be searching. That could be more helpful to you in getting home than I can be." He added in a thoughtful tone.
Last edited by Rillewen on Fri Mar 08, 2024 9:42 am, edited 1 time in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

High Warden of Tower
Points: 3 504 
Posts: 2316
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:58 pm
~ Struck Down But Not Destroyed ~
June, T.A. 3018
On the road north from Barazôn

@Rillewen

"What about it? Healing is simply something I do for a living," Pele said and shrugged her shoulders lightly. "I might not do well at trading, or sewing garments, so just using what skills I have."

She could at least make sure that the wounds in places where she could see them would be well tended to, and she could not afford losing her hand. She could possibly work around having one less finger and adjust all of her skills accordingly, but if she lost her whole hand it would make her quite useless even if she managed to survive this place somehow and get away alive.

"I'd need your help with my back. The cuts might need cleaning, and ointment, and I'd need to rely on your eyes and discretion if any of it needs bandages," she said hesitantly unwilling to let him see all the scars and cuts, and welts on her back, besides... she'd have to pull her shirt up at least half way to let him access the said injuries. Pele frowned and remained where she was for a while.

"Healing and fighting makes for a good combination," she chose to speak and thus delay the necessary treatment. "Not necessarily easy though. And neither really helps any when the nemesis is treacherous and uses poisons." When Di'rok asked about the family or someone searching for her, she fell silent for a moment in thought. She was unwilling to leave any information with anyone is this hostile land lest it would reach Relic and she'd use it against her. And while she liked to think that perhaps someone cared enough to search for her, even that seemed unlikely after all those poisonous words she had constantly heard. "I am not sure anyone is looking for me, and I'd rather simply make my own way home without dragging anyone else into this," she eventually said.
Image

Steward of Gondor
Points: 5 586 
Posts: 2652
Joined: Wed Sep 01, 2021 10:12 pm
@Pele Alarion

"Di'rok"
With Pele
June, T.A. 3018


Di'rok shrugged. "Nothing really," He replied to her question. "It just surprised me. It's not often one sees a healer.. in need of healing." He smiled faintly at the 'only using what skills I have' comment. "Perhaps, but you surely went through a lot of training in order to have those skills." He pointed out, folding his arms as he waited for her to get around to the part she'd asked for his help with. "Yes, healing and fighting both work well together." He agreed, thoughtfully. "What sort of poisons?" He frowned at the woman. "Do you mean you've been poisoned? Should I start looking for an antidote?" He half-joked.

Pele's words after that, about how no one was probably looking for her, might have invoked sympathy or sorrow from most others. As it was, the wheels in Di'rok's mind were spinning. "That's too bad," He told her in a sympathetic tone, while inside he was pleased to hear that there wouldn't be anyone coming to look for her. But whatever plan he decided to follow would not benefit him very well without having her injuries treated, so he wanted to get on with getting her bandaged up and ensuring that there was no infection or anything of the sort.

"Well," he sighed after a moment's pause. "At least now you have a way back home, without having to walk." He mentioned, in a slightly more cheery tone. "You'll be back in Gondor before too long. But we're not going anywhere until I've made sure your wounds are cared for as well as can be. So, best not delay any longer. How bad is your back?"
Last edited by Rillewen on Fri Mar 08, 2024 9:42 am, edited 1 time in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

High Warden of Tower
Points: 3 504 
Posts: 2316
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:58 pm
~ Struck Down But Not Destroyed ~
June, T.A. 3018
On the road north from Barazôn

@Rillewen

"Sometimes even a healer needs healing," Pele muttered. She hated to admit that she needed any sort of help, yet she had to let go of her pride if she wanted to survive. "Don't worry, no need for any antidotes. Would have needed one some time ago to prevent all this trouble." She grumbled quietly under her breath, dissatisfied both with the state of things, her inability to get back without being assisted, and the fact that she had ended up in Umbar in the first place.

"I can't see my own back, so how can I tell you how bad it is?" she continued in the grumpy tone, and then explained: "Well, for all I know it might as well be criss-crossed with all sorts of wounds." Eventually picking up courage, she turned around, pulled the back of her shirt up as far as she could without revealing much else that she did not want to show to unfamiliar eyes, and leaned with her elbows against the doorway of the wagon.

"I hope you know enough to discern when wounds need cleaning, yes?" she asked Di'rok. While Niera had made sure all of her injuries had received initial treatment, Pele was not sure whether all her scrambling through the desert had not torn open some of those cuts or welts, or torn off the damaged skin from the burn marks to leave it bleeding. She hoped the man would be able to at least figure out that any injuries with dirt, swelling or pus might need extra care.
Image

Steward of Gondor
Points: 5 586 
Posts: 2652
Joined: Wed Sep 01, 2021 10:12 pm
@Pele Alarion

"Di'rok"
With Pele
June, T.A. 3018


"So I take it you haven't had anyone check your wounds there yet," He replied when the woman's reply made it clear she had no idea how bad her back might be. He observed in silence as she turned and pulled the shirt up to allow him to get a look at the wounds on her back. He would have preferred the front, but shook his head slightly to remind himself to get her patched up first and foremost. He looked thoughtfully at the collection of cuts and welts covering her back. "Well, it does look pretty bad." He commented.

Inspecting her more closely, he frowned a bit as he got a bit more serious. "Some of the fresher ones have picked up some dirt or sand. Not surprising, given our present surroundings." He mentioned. "I'll need to clean that out, and make sure they don't get infected, it might sting." He took some time cleaning the dirt out of the wounds, with a careful splash of alcohol here and there where it seemed necessary. "I don't suppose you want to bandage your entire back, so what would you suggest, Healer Pele? Some ointment, on all of these?" He wondered, figuring that bandaging all of this would leave her wrapped up like a mummy.

"I don't see anything that looks like it requires stitching, so you're in luck there. I'm not so good at sewing," He attempted a half joke, smiling slightly. He took a bit of ointment on his fingertimes and began lightly applying ointment onto the wounds, careful to keep from rubbing too hard on the wounds, which looked quite sore and tender. "There, I think I'm all done," He said after a while of working carefully to make sure he didn't miss any of the wounds. "Does it feel any better?"
Last edited by Rillewen on Fri Mar 08, 2024 9:42 am, edited 1 time in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

High Warden of Tower
Points: 3 504 
Posts: 2316
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:58 pm
~ Struck Down But Not Destroyed ~
June, T.A. 3018
On the road north from Barazôn

@Rillewen

"Ah, it is one thing to have someone else check it and another to see the condition of things myself," Pele responded, and thought to herself that others were often likely to make things out to be worse than they were, whilst she would downplay the effect it had on her. This time, it was hard to deny that she was definitely not doing well.

Hearing that some wounds were dirty, Pele was not surprised. "Just go ahead and clean it properly," she told Di'rok, and prepared herself to withstand the pain. Fists clenched, she tried to breathe through the worst of it and carefully held back any groans that were about to escape from her lips. It might not mean much even if she cried out loud, yet what remained of her pride forbade her to do so if she could avoid it.

"N-no, suppose ointment will do just fine," Pele finally said when she was sure that no unwanted reactions to the pain would escape her along with the words. "Can't use up all of your bandages, can I?"

She only grunted at the man's sewing joke, and waited for him to apply the ointment. Some of it would probably rub off into her shirt, but it was just as surely that some would remain on the wounds as well. "Better? Well, perhaps a tiny sliver better, yet," she mumbled - healing would take a good while, considering there was only that much of her that was not damaged in one way or another. Carefully she let the shirt back down, and then turned to face Di'rok. "Thank you," she said, not wanting to appear ungrateful, though at present she did not know how else to proceed with the conversation. She felt rather awkward about the whole situation - as if she were just a burdensome parcel picked up somewhere along the roadside.
Image

Steward of Gondor
Points: 5 586 
Posts: 2652
Joined: Wed Sep 01, 2021 10:12 pm
@Pele Alarion

"Di'rok"
With Pele
June, T.A. 3018


As he set the jar of ointment down, Pele pulled her shirt back into place. Hopefully, she would heal up swiftly enough. He nodded in answer to her thanks, and smiled. She might not be thanking him if she knew his plans, and that amused him slightly. He leaned against the side of the wagon while she was sitting up and turning around. There were certainly a lot of injuries, and healing would take time, as she had indicated. But it mostly looked, to his eyes anyway, as if she should recover from everything well enough, except for that missing fingertip. That, well... there was no way that would ever be the same.

"Are there any other injuries that need looking at?" He asked her, unsure if she was finished with the medical box or not. "If so, we should tend to those, now. But, if not, then perhaps you'd like to lie down and rest for a while?" He suggested, with a motion toward the bedroll in the corner. "You can sleep in the wagon while we travel, if you think you could get enough rest while it's moving. I imagine you must be awfully tired, and the rest would help your wounds heal, I'm sure." He wasn't sure, having never really tried that before. He was always stopped when he laid down to sleep, so he had no idea how hard it would be to sleep while it was moving.
Last edited by Rillewen on Fri Mar 08, 2024 9:43 am, edited 1 time in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

High Warden of Tower
Points: 3 504 
Posts: 2316
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:58 pm
~ Struck Down But Not Destroyed ~
June, T.A. 3018
On the road north from Barazôn

@Rillewen

Pele was silent for a while as she mentally went over all of her injuries and then wondered if there was any part of her which was still left unscathed. Yet, it seemed that most of the wounds needing treatment had been taken care of, and the rest were insignificant enough and would heal well with the previously received treatment.

"I think it'll be just fine," she eventually said. Come to think of it, the imminent threat of death had been averted for now - she'd had something to eat, had been able to have a drink of refreshing water, wounds treated... Survival was apparently important if she ever wanted to get back home.

Some rest in a place which was not either baking hot sand by day or freezing cold sand by night sounded very welcome even though Pele was not sure she could sleep. While the stranger had been good to her this far, she was still wary considering the land they were in and wondered if closing her eyes to sleep would not land her in more trouble than she cared to deal with. However, she also knew that one could not go endlessly without sleep.

"I would be thankful for some rest out of direct sunlight," she admitted finally. "Back of a rolling wagon is not the worst place for it, I would say. If you don't mind..."
Image

Steward of Gondor
Points: 5 586 
Posts: 2652
Joined: Wed Sep 01, 2021 10:12 pm
@Pele Alarion

"Di'rok"
With Pele
June, T.A. 3018



As the woman declared that she would be fine, Di'rok nodded in satisfaction. "Good, I'm glad to hear that." He answered, genuinely. He'd hate to invest time and supplies into getting her well again, and then her not get better. Pele then agreed to get some rest, asking if he minded. A little laugh escaped him, amused that she would ask if he minded, when he just suggested it. "No, go right ahead." He smiled and motioned toward the bedroll. "I did have a cot, but it broke and I haven't found another." he shrugged apologetically. "But please, make yourself comfortable. Get all the rest you need." Getting plenty of rest would surely go a long way toward healing her wounds.

"I'll scout the area and see if I can find any sort of food, in the meanwhile. And perhaps a less conspicuous place to camp." He added, thinking of how noticeable the wagon would be to anyone traveling along the road. He decided it would be wise to travel very slowly and camp often, while she was recovering. Then, once she was suitably recovered enough for his purposes, he could more swiftly get her where he meant to take her. "Unless you'd prefer I stay close," He added, curious whether she would be nervous or fearful about being left alone, or if she might prefer the thought of him going elsewhere. Regardless, he figured hunting or foraging for food wasn't a bad idea, and he suspected he knew better than her how to locate food in these lands, as he had traveled around here before and learned a few tricks.
Last edited by Rillewen on Fri Mar 08, 2024 9:43 am, edited 1 time in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

High Warden of Tower
Points: 3 504 
Posts: 2316
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:58 pm
~ Struck Down But Not Destroyed ~
June, T.A. 3018
On the road north from Barazôn

@Rillewen

"Even the thinnest mat would be a step up from sleeping on the sand, even when there's no cot," Pele concluded as she looked at the bedroll, and then back at Di'rok again. She had assumed that he wanted to set off on the road again, but apparently he had changed his mind.

"All I've seen is a snake or two for days," she commented on the matter of food. She had not felt confident enough to tackle any of these not knowing how poisonous they were and if they were edible at all. But then again the man seemed comfortable here in the wilderness and had travelled a lot, apparently, so she did not doubt his abilities to find sources of nutrition she had no clue about. "I have enough tools here - if I may use them - to handle myself should someone think the wagon is abandoned while you are out and about doing what needs done," she concluded.

Pele stepped into the wagon and unrolled the bedroll on the floor, sitting down on it and looking out to see if Di'rok was still there. She was not sure whether she'd be able to fall asleep, but any sort of rest would be welcome if she found a position comfortable enough to facilitate relaxation.
Image

Steward of Gondor
Points: 5 586 
Posts: 2652
Joined: Wed Sep 01, 2021 10:12 pm
@Pele Alarion

"Di'rok"
With Pele
June, T.A. 3018



"Hmm, yes, we're a long way from your Ithilien forest," He commented with a slight smile. "Lucky for you, I know how to find food where others might not think to look." He shrugged. "Get some rest, it should help you recover. If someone is fool enough to try and raid my wagon, feel free to use whatever you need to defend it..and you." He added with a nod. Grabbing an empty sack and a machete type blade from among the assortment of weapons and tools, he pushed the doors mostly closed, as if to give her some privacy while she slept.

He had indeed traveled a long time, and to many lands. He'd spent some time around various locals, learning how to survive in the various terrains he ventured through. So, he did not have to go very far before finding a nice sized cactus. The machete worked quite well at hacking off a good chunk of the plant, then used his dagger to carefully scrape the needles from it. This, he put into the sack, and spent a little while searching around for any other useful things, whether growing or living. A little while later, he came upon an armadillo, and managed to kill it before it got away, thus adding a reasonable amount of meat to share with his guest.

While he scouted around, Di'rok rarely ventured so far that he couldn't see the top of his wagon, though he kept a fair distance from it so as to give Pele a chance to rest. As he worked on cutting the meat from the armadillo, he took some time to think about his plan a little more extensively, and think through a few options. He hadn't planned on a delay in his travel, but it was about time he stopped to stretch his legs and replenish his stock of fresh foods, anyway. If he gave her time to recover, he figured he could gain back more than double what he'd used of his supplies. So, he would definitely make a profit, if he could have the patience to wait for her to heal. All he had to do was keep up the act so she wouldn't suspect his real intentions. And he'd had plenty of practice at that sort of thing, so he had little doubt in his ability to fool her. With any luck, she'd spend a great deal of the time sleeping, and he'd travel slowly 'because of her injuries' and once he deemed the time right, he could double back to Umbar, and make some profit off of this investment. If necessary, he could always lock the door to the wagon, as he had done with a few others.

Having found a good spot further away from the road, he laid down the sack of food. It was getting toward dark by now, and he quietly returned to the wagon and, attempting not to wake the woman inside(assuming she was actually asleep by now), he gathered some firewood he'd brought along, since he knew wood would be difficult to find in the desert. Then, he returned to the camp site and made a small fire so he could cook the meat, figuring his 'guest' would be hungry when she woke, since he was certainly getting hungry, himself.
Last edited by Rillewen on Fri Mar 08, 2024 9:43 am, edited 1 time in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

High Warden of Tower
Points: 3 504 
Posts: 2316
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:58 pm
~ Struck Down But Not Destroyed ~
June, T.A. 3018
@Rillewen

"You certainly looked that you know your way around here," Pele admitted his superiority in this seeing that he was well prepared, and definitely not lacking water and food. For a while she then stood and looked after him to make sure he really left, and only then settled down to see if she could rest, deciding she would not let her eyes close in case any punishment would be brought on her for it.

However, there seemed to be none. Gradually, Pele felt comfortable enough with Di'rok to take the rest she needed and whatever sleep she could even when it was mostly uneasy and filled with nightmares. The rest and nourishment made sure her wounds healed up slowly, at least those of the body, but she was still fully not at ease while on foreign land.

While Pele was generally aware of the layout of the land as far as she had studied the maps, it was different while travelling on the same land - she was not able to pinpoint their exact location, so she kept checking the general direction of travel every so often to make sure it still agreed with the one she needed. She assumed the merchant would veer off sooner or later, so she watched for the moment when she would need to set off on her own yet again.
Image

Steward of Gondor
Points: 5 586 
Posts: 2652
Joined: Wed Sep 01, 2021 10:12 pm
@Pele Alarion

"Di'rok"
With Pele
July, T.A. 3018



A couple of weeks went by, during which Di'rok continued to put on an act. He considered it excellent practice for the future. While he'd definitely fooled plenty of others before now, it seemed somewhat different, this time. This woman seemed more wary, less ready to trust, than most others he'd encountered before. And so, that meant he had to be more believable to keep her fooled. He continued to be cordial and friendly, and careful not to give any indication of his true intentions. He spoke often of being eager to return to Gondor, and other 'more civilized places'.

All the while, gradually moving away from the city of Umbar. Not so fast, nor so far, that he couldn't double back quickly and easily when the time came. But also, not so slow as to let her realize that he was intentionally not traveling far each day. She was still recovering, he would claim, and he didn't think it would help her heal if she was always jostling around in the wagon. And she wouldn't be able to sleep if the wagon was moving, he would point out if necessary. It was tricky, but he was rather a trickster by nature anyway. Living on cactus and snake, with the occasional lizard, was not his favorite diet, but he'd survive. And soon enough he would be concluding his business in Harad, and moving on to better lands.

At last, after many days of paying close attention to how well his guest seemed to be recovering from her wounds, Di'rok deemed the time was right. If he didn't act soon, she might begin to expect that they travel faster. She might stop resting inside the wagon soon, and insist on riding up on the seat with him, because she was indeed recovering. That would make things much more complicated, and so he decided to do what he must do to prevent that.

They were stopped in the shade from some big boulders, which made for a better place to sleep and rest from the heat of the sun. Having made camp, he waited until his passenger had gone inside to get some rest, while they had this rare moment of shade during the daytime. He went about his usual business of searching around for anything edible, and returned some time later. He cautiously took a look inside through a small window, just to make sure she hadn't somehow grown wise to his intentions and split. Nope.

He smiled to himself and stepped back. Then, being very careful not to make any noise with it, he slid a bar through the door handles. He had purposely had them designed in such a fashion that they could be bolted from the outside, and the wagon could then become a prison. He clicked a lock on the bolt, and stepped back. With any luck, she didn't wake up for a little while. Not that she'd be able to get out, but he'd rather not have to listen to any yelling and such that typically happened when he locked someone inside. It took only a moment to hitch the horses up and pack up camp, and then he set off along the road. Back the way they'd come. After a couple of weeks traveling so slowly, he figured it ought to only take a couple of days to return, if he kept up a brisk pace.
Last edited by Rillewen on Fri Mar 08, 2024 9:43 am, edited 1 time in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

High Warden of Tower
Points: 3 504 
Posts: 2316
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:58 pm
~ Struck Down But Not Destroyed ~
July, T.A. 3018
@Rillewen

While she was still far from having regained full health, the food and water was enough to sustain her at least, and the wounds had healed somewhat. With a slow increase in vitality Pele began to consider how to get Di'rok to travel faster which he had not agreed to this far yet. Still, it was surely faster than she could travel on foot, so she kept her peace and tried not to become overly impatient, making the best use of the time given to recover.

Pele saw no warning sign that things might be different when she lay down on the bedroll in the wagon as she used to do lately. Her thoughts wandered this way and that, until she eventually fell asleep. Some time later she woke with a groan from the feeling of being rattled and bumped around as if the wagon was moving over an uneven ground. As far as she could remember Di'rok had said nothing about them setting out this soon. Scrambling up to her feet, the Gondorian headed for the door meaning to jump out and see what it was all about, but the door did not budge. She pushed against it with her hands, and then rammed it with her shoulder with no success.

"What are you doing?" she yelled, having walked back to the end of the wagon closer to the horses. "Open the door!"

Pele then went to the window and looked out to find that the wagon was moving at a considerable pace. It was too small for her to get through it, and she decided that it was no use wasting her voice to yell at the man or spend what strength she had in trying to break down the door. She figured he'd open the door sooner or later, and then she'd give him a piece of her mind. Looking around the collection of the items in the wagon she chose a shortsword to defend herself with in addition to the knife she already had. Prepared to either give Di'rok a lesson or stand her ground should it prove that he had decided to deliver her back to Relic, she sat down to wait.
Image

Steward of Gondor
Points: 5 586 
Posts: 2652
Joined: Wed Sep 01, 2021 10:12 pm
@Pele Alarion

"Di'rok"
With Pele
July, T.A. 3018

"What are you doing? Open the door!"

Well, that didn't take long. Di'rok held back a sigh, shaking his head as he urged the horses to keep going. He'd spent more time out in the desert than he liked, and was eager to get to a place with more water and better food. He decided against answering her, for now. It would only encourage more yelling and demands, he figured, and was glad when she went quiet. The wagon moved at a fairly steady pace, and it was a long while before he came to a stop to rest the horses and take a little break to stretch his legs.

He led the horses toward a small patch of scrubby grass where they had camped not too long ago. It was near a small water hole that was almost more like a puddle than anything. It would give the horses enough to drink before they had to move on. Once he'd seen to the animals, he returned to the wagon, stopping near the window. "Sorry," he told her, though it was really held empty meaning. "Nothing personal, Alarion. It's just the best way to get some profit out of this encounter." He informed her, in a less friendly tone than he had thus far used with her. "A good businessman doesn't pass up such an excellent opportunity to make a little extra money, you know." He grinned. "I'm sure you'll understand if I don't open that door." He added.
Last edited by Rillewen on Fri Mar 08, 2024 9:43 am, edited 1 time in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

High Warden of Tower
Points: 3 504 
Posts: 2316
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:58 pm
~ Struck Down But Not Destroyed ~
July, T.A. 3018
@Rillewen

They seemed to move endlessly, and there was nothing else Pele could do but sit and try to figure out one way or another of how to make her escape. The options were not many - rather there was only one. The only way out of the wagon was through the door, and she had already found out that it was shut tight and she could not force her way out.

Eventually the wagon came to a stop, and since nothing seemed to happen for a long while Pele began to wonder if she had been left in the middle of nowhere. But no, soon she heard the footsteps, and Di'rok's voice.

Biting back some curses that threatened to escape, the Gondorian replied: "I could have compensated you for the expenses, I told you." But then again she was forced to admit that whatever she could offer would have only covered the minimum and could not be seen as profit of any kind, especially considering the price Relic had set on her.

'Let me out or I'll break down the door," she threatened, once again looking through the collection of bits and ends in the wagon to see if she could find an axe. Her gaze landed on a hatchet among some gardening tools. That could do, depending on how much time she had before they arrived at whatever destination he had chosen. No doubt he would not want his wagon damaged, and if he came to stop her, he'd have to open the door. While Pele was not sure she was anywhere close recovered to match him in a hand to hand fight, at least that was something of a plan. She shifted closer to the hatchet and took it to inspect its sharpness. She'd wait for them to be on the move again to test it on the door.
Image

Steward of Gondor
Points: 5 586 
Posts: 2652
Joined: Wed Sep 01, 2021 10:12 pm
@Pele Alarion

"Di'rok"
With Pele
July, T.A. 3018

A laugh escaped as the woman protested that she could have compensated. Compensated. "Oh, I'm sure you could have offered a measly amount of money in return, sure. But it would hardly have been enough to make a difference, considering the supplies I used to patch you up and keep you fed." He replied, then moved a few steps closer to the window. "If you'd been more my type of woman, maybe we might have worked out some other form of compensation," He added with a slight shrug. "But I'm fairly good at reading women.. I seriously doubt you'd have gone for that. So, money it is. Unless I'm wrong?" He waited a moment for her reply, already guessing what it'd be.

The threat to break down the door brought another scoffing laugh. He could see her through the small window, and seeing that she'd found the hatchet, he was glad that the window frame was reinforced with metal around the wooden wagon. Also that he hadn't gotten around to sharpening it, yet. "Oh, get real. That hatchet isn't sharp enough to do much but put a few dents in the walls. The door is bolted from the outside with a heavy bar, so you'll just waste what energy you have, trying to break that down." He tried to discourage her. Honestly, he wished he had had more of a chance to go in and remove anything of the sort from the wagon, first. But there had been few opportunities when the woman wasn't in there, so it just hadn't been feasible for him, without drawing suspicion.

"I suggest you save your strength and try to recover as much as you can before we reach our destination. It wouldn't be very good for you to arrive in poor condition, after all," He grinned slightly and then went to check how the horses were doing, and if they were ready to move on yet.
Last edited by Rillewen on Fri Mar 08, 2024 9:43 am, edited 1 time in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

High Warden of Tower
Points: 3 504 
Posts: 2316
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:58 pm
~ Struck Down But Not Destroyed ~
July, T.A. 3018
@Rillewen

"It would have been well above what I've used," Pele countered, as she moved to stand closer to the window as well, hands on hips, with hatchet and all. "But suppose you are too much of a money-grabber." She glared at the man through the window and pursed her lips. "I am beyond glad not to be your type of woman," she stated, lifting her chin proudly.

She watched Di'rok disappear from the rectangle of outdoors offered by the window, muttered a few angry words under her breath and then turned back to examining the possible routes of escape. The window being out of the question, she tested the door to see if she could fit the edge of the hatchet somewhere to pry it open. Upon closer inspection, she discovered markings along the right side of the door. Could it be someone else's desperate attempts at escape?

"Darn man..." Pele cussed quietly, and gave a half-hearted effort at trying to work with the hatchet along the location of the markings. It was quite a useless activity indeed; the door was sturdy and even if she worked restlessly on it, it might take days to carve an opening big enough to move the bar away from the door. She gave the blocked entrance her best glare, and then searched through Di'rok's collection of items to pick out whatever else she could use in defense. If she couldn't get out and make an escape, she'd give a hearty welcome to whoever ended up opening the door.
Image

Steward of Gondor
Points: 5 586 
Posts: 2652
Joined: Wed Sep 01, 2021 10:12 pm
@Pele Alarion

"Di'rok"
With Pele
July, T.A. 3018

Shrugging in answer to the woman's rejection to his offer, Di'rok didn't bother trying to persuade her to change her mind. He was not really surprised, which was why he had not really made any advances toward her thus far. As he'd said, he was fairly good at gauging women, and could generally tell whether they were the sort to go for his attentions or not, and had found it to be a waste of time to make his attempts with those who were the latter sort.

Laughing quietly to himself, he waited a bit longer, then hitched up the horses to the wagon again, and climbed up into the seat. "Try not to get bumped around too much, Alarion," He called back toward her as he flicked the reins to get the horses started. "Don't want to diminish my profit, after all." He muttered to himself with a little smile. It would take a couple more days to return to Umbar, and he had a particular buyer in mind to approach when he got there, rather than taking her to the auctions. He figured the quicker he got rid of the woman, the better off he would be, considering who she had escaped from. He might have even considered returning her to the woman, but he might not get any profit at all, that way, if the woman decided not to pay him, so he planned to go elsewhere to make his sale.
Last edited by Rillewen on Fri Mar 08, 2024 9:43 am, edited 1 time in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

Post Reply