Outside the Wind Wall (24 Chyril, dawn)

[Sweeney]

[OOC: I am starting this thread for myself, but anyone else embarking on Longfellow's expedition is naturally welcome to join.]

The hulking form of Sweeney floated through the pre-dawn gloom of Sabata. Master Alai had said they would assemble at sunrise, but the half-giant had awoken early, filled with anticipation for the impending journey. Much more than merely representing some much-needed employment, Sweeney looked on the expedition to make a clean break with the misadventures of his past. He hoped that unpleasant memories would not follow him out into the desert, or if they did, that they would not find their way back out.

The previous day and a half had seemed interminable for the half-giant, so eager was he for his adventure to begin. Nor had he had any real business to fill the intervening time. Master Alai had promised that all the provisions were being supplied except for clothing, and for his previous desert-crossing, Sweeney had already outfitted himself with the robes, turban and facecloth favored by the indigeous folk of Terra Incognita. Mostly, the half-giant had simply occupied himself with observation of the hustle and bustle within Sabata's busy commercial domes.

Now, however, his wait was nearly over. Wearing the somewhat mismatched combination of his Incognitan robes and the arms he'd borne for World's Mouth, Sweeney exited the city of Sabata through the gate in the Wind Wall and sought the caravanserai, from which Master Alai had said the expedition would depart.

[Grant]

The Wind Wall was not build for any military purpose. In fact, it seemed rather ridiculous that it could hold against much of anything, much less a strong, determined army. In truth, the Wind Wall was designed to hold out only one thing: The Wind. Often blowing twenty and forty miles per mark, the wind could carry in it grains of sand that might be harmless enough underfoot, but could join with millions of others and carried by this very wind to bounce and scratch around and through anything it touched. After so many millions of scratches and touches, everything on earth...absolutely everything...seemed to begin to melt.

The Wind Wall was no exception. Constantly eroding away and collecting great drifts of sand at their base, they had to be constantly repaired by the city's stone masons and (Curiously enough) water keepers. In virtually all cases, this "repair" was nothing less than a complete rebuild of the structure...a rebuild using the curious, pink rock that could be poured into place. This curious, liquid rock was the same material from which the city's massive columns were made...and it was these columns that supported the life-giving domes overhead. Few knew the actual composition of the substance, but it...and it's unusual color...has always been as much a part of Sabata as a great, latticed domes overhead.

Sweeney was early. That is to say, he was earlier than anyone else...but he couldn't be in the wrong place. The great caravanserai of the city...massive ostler pens that held beasts of burden...were just within the Wind Gate...and the gates were currently thrown open due to the relative calm of the morningtide airs. It was a quiet mark...the marks just before sunrise...when the desert awakened from it's freezing slumber to the scorching, stabbing light of the sunrise to the West. Freezing it was...Sweeney could see his breath roil around his face with every exhale...but it was dry, dry enough to chap lips, thicken tongues, and itch at the eyes.

"Kal'essen'salah," came a greeting only after Sweeney had waited for perhaps half a mark. A wrapped figure, tall and robed in the custom of the natives, approached from within the city, moving to join the half-giant where he waited. Had Sweeney noticed or bothered to watch the man, he would have seen the figure enter the caravanserai, gather a trio of camel, and pull them out, barded and prepared for the coming journey. Each one was filled with materials, from tents to blankets to provisions to water to fuel. "Have you come for Longfellow?" asked the man, a wiry slip of a figure despite his somewhat respectable height of perhaps six feet.

[Sweeney]

Sweeney knew he would be early, but he was surprised to find the departure point to virtually deserted. He had somehow assumed that this expedition was going to be a fairly large one, so he'd expected to find a fair amount of hustle and bustle going n in preparation for the departure. Instead, the half-giant found himself alone with his thoughts, the darkness, and the incongruous chill of the predawn desert.

As much to ward of the cold as to while away the waiting time, Sweeney paced briskly around the caravanserai, surveying the penned camels with a certain professional curiosity. The beasts were still unfamiliar to him, used as he was to the horses and oxen of more temperate climes, but he knew enough to respect their hardiness without underestimating their capacity for ill temper.

Finally, his livestock inspection was interrupted by the arrival of a robed man who brought out three of the beasts, already loaded, and addressed the half-giant. "Yar," answered Sweeney. "I'm here for the expedition. Master Alai sent me. You 'specting anyone else, or will it just be the two of on this picnic?"

[Grant]

"No, this one is good only for the animals," replied the ostler easily. "Those with whom you travel are inside the serai...those who have arrived, though not yet among them is this Master Alai. There are two...and they are gens harinae." The term was infrequently used to describe the natives...or at least, it was the term used by the natives to define themselves. And for the wise, it was often used to describe them where they could hear as well. While the People weren't known to be excessively proud, no one could happily be called nomad or barbarian without some indignation.


Still, Sweeney didn't have more than a heartbeat to wait before he saw the older man of whom he had referred. Master Alai...the old man from the tavern...approached just then, emerging from one of the many alleyways that lead up to the Wind Gate. "Kal'essen!" he called, both to the ostler and the half-giant. While still in the distance, the ostler near Sweeney tensed up and returned the wave in every appearance of civility. However, where only Sweeney could hear, he spoke. "This one is Negrus. You must be careful."


Whatever the ostler might mean by this would remain unknown for now, as Alai approached quickly, his dark robes clinging around him due to the early morning damp. By all appearances, it seemed as if the black-robed man might be ready to travel. "Welcome, sirrah...you are early! I admire such a thing," began Alai as the ostler turned away to attend to the animals. "There has been a slight change of plans. I will be accompanying you on the trek. I have three other guards as well as a Tirk...a competent surveyor and cartographer. Journeyer Tirk is with the Miners' Guild, though he is...unaffiliated at this time."


For a journeyer miner to be unaffiliated was to say that he was unemployed, though such a thing was strange. To attain a rank of journeyer required considerable guild attention...and it routinely guaranteed a job with any of the local mining outfits. Whoever this Tirk was, it seemed strange that he would even accept such a strange job as this while hprestigioush prestigous credentials. "Are you prepared to depart? If the surveyor and the other guards have arrived, we need not wait any longer."

[Morg]

Thread archived due to player inactivity.