The Eye of Anubis: Book Ten

[Kaitou Kage]

Kuzan did not really understand what the big deal was. It wasn't terribly different from home. Ritual sacrifice? Check. Rigid caste system? Check. It was just like being back home, but with blond-haired, blue-eyed men instead of dark-skinned, dark-haired men. But his allies were a bit upset with these people, so he went along with it.

"Well, then," he said, looking around for a free soldier, "Let us ask what the rules are."

[yalenusveler]

After a time, Andre left the building Verderrak had commandeered as a headquarters, accompanied by one of the Falkovnian soldiers. It took a few minutes, but he made his way to where Charles and Lebrecht were conversing. Andre smiled at Charles, and was apparently in good spirits, or at least the sort of spirits one is in when not impaled on a sharp stake.

"You would be Lieutenant Lebrecht Schiffer ?" Andre asked, polite enough really. "I was told to seek him out. Something about being shown around town later on." Andre then paused, and surprisingly enough said. "I'd also like to offer my condolences about the men you've lost. No one deserves that, however...I may be able to discover some information pertinent to uncovering the culprits."

[NeoTiamat]

Courtyard, Falkovnian Headquarters, Muhar, Har'Akir
August 26th, 761, 4:47 PM; Day 162 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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Oh hey coffee. "If you are making some, I would be being very pleased, ja." Tomas offers, smiling kindly. "I am Tomas Eisenwald, by the way." He offers a handshake. "I didn't mean to startle you, I promise."

Mandisa stares at Tomas' hand, clearly uncertain what she was supposed to do with it. She instead retreated back to safer ground. "It would be my pleasure to make you coffee, s-sir," she said, bowing. "The kitchens are not far."

The girl scuttled off, frequently peeking over her shoulder at the large, foreign man who was following her. She scurried into the kitchen and started pulling things off of shelves with a practiced ease. Tomas saw her start filling a strange, small urn-like pot with coffee grounds, water, and a lump of something white - she was moving too quickly for him to make out exactly what she was doing. She set the pot over a small fire, watching it like a hawk until the whole concoction started to foam, and then carefully stirred it until the foam subsided. Then she poured the whole mess out into a cup and offered it to Tomas.

It looked like coffee, save for the strange white film over the top of it.

"I have put the curdled milk in your coffee, just for you!" Mandisa said cheerfully. "I have been told that is how Corefolk drink their coffee? The kamandante," she mangled the Falkovnian word, "and others drink it black."

She paused, suddenly looking horrified again. "Oh, do you drink it black too? I am s-sorry. I am stupid, please forgive me." She looked absolutely wretched at the thought of Tomas' coffee not being to his liking.

There was a shout from the back of the kitchen in Akiri. Mandisa bowed apologetically, torn between serving the foreigner or obeying the command she had just been given. Finally deciding that Tomas' was the least likely to scream at her, she bowed again. "I am sorry! I must go now. I will bring you more coffee later! I am sorry!"

She ran off.

Tomas's coffee still smelled vaguely like cheese.

===============================================

"You would be Lieutenant Lebrecht Schiffer ?" Andre asked, polite enough really. "I was told to seek him out. Something about being shown around town later on." Andre then paused, and surprisingly enough said. "I'd also like to offer my condolences about the men you've lost. No one deserves that, however...I may be able to discover some information pertinent to uncovering the culprits."

It was obvious that Lebrecht's first impression of Andre, at least as anything more than one of several people he was dragging back to headquarters, was not favorable. A too-handsome, damp-haired academic, and not even a particularly good horseman. Andre's words, however, overwrote anything his appearance may have implied.

"Thank you, doktor-professor." Lieutenant Schiffer said quietly, before bursting out into a huge, wolf-like grin. "You find them... we'll handle them."

"Luther?" Lebrecht glanced at the other soldier who had escorted Andre, who nodded agreement, a verification to the professor's words. Lieutenant Schiffer looked up at the sky to gauge the time. "If you want, I can show you around Muhar before sun-down. There's a few symptoms of civilization here."

"We'll need to be back here by dusk, though." Lebrecht's flexible feature's lost their smiling countenance. "Kommandant's orders. No civilians outside after dark. We'll bed the lot of you down in one of the spare buildings, I think, unless the Kommandant says otherwise. Probably the old servant's quarters, no one there except for a few of the Akiri staff."

"So then, who's up for a quick ride about town?" Schiffer asked rhetorically.

===============================================

"We need to regroup and discuss matters with the others," Lia says, voice still pitched low. "And to find reasons - or even pretexts - to get out in the village, to further our understanding of the situation at the earliest opportunity. Disagreeable as the notion is, Charles has the right idea; those among us who are more personable need to try and get information out of the Falkovnians." The latter idea clearly does not please the wizard.

"I can probably talk to them." Dieter said, not even vaguely comfortable with volunteering this, but doing so anyway. "A grunt's a grunt anywhere, right? Just complain about the food and the locals and it's like you've been friends for life."

"That... is a very good idea." Edmund said, even as Dieter beamed visibly. "In fac---"

The Mordentishman was interrupted by a strangled sound, rather like a mouse being trodden upon. He looked around to find the source of the noise.

It was Devereux. He looked like he'd seen a ghost. What he had seen, however, was Andre coming out of the main building.

[OOC: Feel free to make any closing comments or what-not. Barring extraordinary circumstances, I'll start you guys on a whirlwind tour of Muhar sunday night, led by Lieutenant Lebrecht Schiffer, and accompanied by a few Falkovnian guards. Any objections?]

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"What is it?" Lia asks of Devereux, voice trembling slightly with strain. "What is it that upsets you so? Please tell us." Her own eyes flick to Andre and his escort.

[DocBeard]

Tomas's patience with subtly was about as thin as a shoestring anyway, and this poor girl's suffering has obviously frayed it. "Look." Tomas finally says, not entirely noticing his cheese coffee as he takes a sip, "Barring your secretly being some kind of crazy moon worm I'm not going to hu-" This is about when the cheese kicks in, and Tomas's eyes roll around at the sheer potency of the stuff.

She's gone before he can recover, and Tomas cannot help but hear Sir Uffington chiding him about the nature of evil; how wickedness is not measured by the potency of the monster, but by the thickness of the suffering evil men naturally spread. "Verdamnit los."

Brushing himself off a little, Tomas forces himself back, walking towards the others. This is just in time to see Professor Devereaux looking horrified which, even before the damned city, was always a sign that things had gone from 'Pretty bad' to 'Oh reason the innkeeper's a werewolf possessed by the ghosts of his victims and we just ate a batch of poisoned pot pies because I forgot to warn everyone else about the vicious cannibal plotting against us.' in a terrible hurry. "Professor!" Tomas exclaims, "Should I be getting the helmets and der first aid kit?"

[Kaitou Kage]

Kuzan turned to regard Devereux, but Lia beat him to the obvious question. So, the priest looked back to Dieter and Harris while waiting for the professor's response.

"Interesting how that works," Kuzan mused aloud, "It makes sense, though. If we were dealing with sailors, it would be easy for me to strike up a conversation. You have the stone, right? If anything bad happens, contact me with where you are and I can be there instantly."

He turned to Harris. "What were you going to say, Ed?"

[Nathan of the FoS]

"Oh, certainly, by all means," Charles says vaguely. "Tour at sunset, very pleasant."

And it will probably cement us as a unit with the Falkovnians in public opinion from henceforth, unless we exert ourselves mightily. Nothing for it, I suppose.

Shrugging mentally, Charles turns to where Kejser has been stabled and verifies that the Falkovnian ostler has done right by him. All seems to be in order--the Falkovnians tend to treat their animals well, which says something about their priorities in the grand scheme of things.

I hope these Akiri don't try anything--or that Cavendish is not here to stir them up. We'd better be careful.

"Very well, lead on!" Charles says, leading Kejser from the stall and mounting.

[NeoTiamat]

Courtyard, Falkovnian Headquarters, Muhar, Har'Akir
August 26th, 761, 4:51 PM; Day 162 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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"No, no, nothing like that, Tomas, Lia." Professor Devereux said absently, waving them off with a somewhat mis-aimed wave. It was a strange situation, wherein the professor was trying to keep Andre in sight, while at the same time not looking at him directly. Suddenly Devereux realized he was making a scene in public, and his cheeks colored. He glanced at Andre once again. "It's... not my place to say."

"Well then..." Harris said into the silence, though he still looked at Devereux oddly. "I was going to say that I might try it as well... Dieter's got the right idea, soldiers, even Falkovnian soldiers, are soldiers world round."

At this point a guard ran up from the main building. There was a quick, whispered conversation in Falkovnian between the guard and Lebrecht, at which point the man straightened and shrugged towards you.

"A quick change of plans, I fear. The Kommandant wishes to speak with the rest of the professors upon the Expedition, with the exception of doktor-professor Theroux, whom he has spoken to." Lebrecht shrugged, hands open. "I fear you will have to skip the tour. It is about Expedition organization, and the Kommandant is of the view that we have spent far too much time in Muhar as is."

"Any problem if I come to?" Remy said suddenly, looking towards Schiffer. "I'm one of the grad students, the professors might need me."

"You don't need to--" Professor Marchand-Renier began, to be cut off with an affirmative nod from Lieutenant Schiffer. The Falkovnian gestured Remy towards the door, as if to say be my guest.

"We'll try and catch up with the rest of you at supper, alright?" Professor Carter said, as he, Devereux, Marchand-Renier, and Remy headed inside. He gave a decidedly forced smile. "Swap stories of our day and all. Good luck."

Muhar, Har'Akir
August 26th, 761, 5:29 PM; Day 162 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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So it was decided. Dieter and Edmund would stay behind, pleading exhaustion and an antipathy to the continued company of horses, and would befriend the Falkovnian rank and file. The Professors Carter, Marchand-Renier, Devereux, and also Remy would stay to discuss expedition planning with Vedarrak. The rest of you, accompanied by Lieutenant Lebrecht Schiffer and a pair of Falkovnian guards (Luther Altmann and Niklas Wrede) would go on a tour of Muhar, wherein Schiffer would acquaint you with all of the sights and sounds of Muhar, the lovely temples, the picturesque river, and...

"...all the sand you have ever seen in all your born days." Lebrecht finished his warning with a quick flash of a grin, saddling his horse, a large, black, ominous beast that went by the incongruous name of Floh, or 'Flea'. Flea did not appear to be amused by more riding at this time of day. "If we could figure out a military use for sand, we'd be conquering Darkon by the end of the week."

Muhar was, on the whole, a village that had seen better years, and quite likely, better days. Without leaving the square, Lebrecht showed you two of the three main temples in Muhar, the Temple of Osiris and the Temple of Horus. The former stood empty, the high priestess of Osiris slain in the occupation, while the Temple of Horus was a quiet, sad little building with a small congregation huddled inside.

"The surrounding area of Muhar is actually more interesting than the town itself." Lebrecht continued to speak. "There's a lot of old tombs and so forth in the nearby valleys, even an abandoned temple somewhere or other, to hear the locals tell it. Some of the men were talking about riding over to take a look, but with the various incidents we've been restricting ourselves to careful patrols. Maybe right before we leave."

"Also turns out you're not the first major expedition to be in the area." The Falkovnian said. "Some Mordentishmen came by some ten, fifteen years ago and spent a few summers digging in the sand. Probably a third of the village speaks Mordentish because of them."

"I've rode by the dig-site, actually, and it's mostly a large hole in the sand with some old tents and tools around it, but the Akiri swear its haunted." Schiffer spat in the dust as he rode along. "A patrol swings by twice a day, and we haven't seen anything odd yet."

"Thankfully, there's people other than Akiri to talk to around here." Lebrecht said. "One of them's a Pharazian merchant, and our first stop. He's an amusing rogue, and a useful source of information on the village. Don't believe most of what he says though."

"Here's his shop, actually." Lebrecht gestured to a small, dome-like house on one of Muhar's dubiously-planned side-streets. The shop had an awning that extended out into the street, and under the awning were several tables laden with all manner of bric-a-brac.

For starters, there was a stuffed cat. Also a stuffed vulture. Also the stuffed head of a walrus, though Ezra alone knew where it came from. A small bookshelf of mostly papyrus scrolls was located beside the table, with at least five different copies of the Book of the Dead, and also a few histories and other works. One of the other shelves was occupied solely by The Dead Travel Fast reprints. A golden spear with rubies inlaid in the hilt leaned against the shelves, though in a few places the gold foil had peeled off the wooden spear. From hooks attached to the awning hung a veritable forest of amulets, big amulets, small amulets, amulets in the shapes of ankhs, scarabs, jackal-heads, cartouches, shields, amulets inlaid with gold, silvery, ivory.

And of course, through the shop's door, you could see something suspended from the roof within, a massive crocodile, jaws open and studded with sharp, ivory teeth.

The merchant came rushing out of the store, bowing and speaking rapidly in horribly lisping Falkovnian, though the moment he spotted the rest of you, he changed to Mordentish.

"Effendi Schiffer! What a pleasant surprise! You do my house honor, you grace its very presence with the glory of your soldiers. I kiss your hand, I kiss your feet, I kiss your horses hooves.!" Flea looked somewhat disturbed by this statement. The merchant continued. "Please, come in, I have found that most perfect treasure for the honored sir, a sword that is truly worthy of your greatness."

"Hello Faruq." Lieutenant Schiffer said with an amused tolerance. He dismounted from his horse and bowed lightly to the (Akiri? Pharazian?) merchant. Lebrecht decided to bite. "What kind of sword...?"

One-Eyed Faruq, for it was he, looked much the same as he had back in Phiraz. He was a man of middle-height, with nut-brown skin and beetle-like brows, a weatherbeaten man with a hugely hooked nose. He was a living caricature, really, a stock character from a Dementlieuse penny-dreadful, clad in his ominous black robes and with a huge eyepatch across his right eye.

"Ah, it is the sword that slew Mustali the Dragon!" Faruq gestured to the giant crocodile in his window. "For you see, once Mustali terrorized Pharazia, many years before the prophet Diamabel. But then, a noble prince arose, a man of valor, of courage, of cunning and grace. Taking only a sword with himself, the noble prince fought Mustali the Dragon out upon the desert sands."

"It was a terribly battle, but in the end, the prince was victorious, jamming the sword down the throat of the mighty Dragon." Again Faruq gestured towards the massive crocodile in the window. "The beast swallowed the sword, and swallowed the prince as well! And it is from within that the prince pierced the heart of Mustali. But the prince, he did not survive his wounds, and so it was that not until I found Mustali and had him stuffed were the prince's bones found."

"It was as I was cleaning out my shop this morning that I noticed something most peculiar about the way Mustali's tail was kinked, and so I went to fix it, getting upon a table to do so. And lo! There was a sword in Mustali's tail, the very sword the noble prince slew the mighty Dragon with! I near fell off the table in awe, but it was worth it, Lieutenant Schiffer!" Faruq grinned, showing pearly-white teeth. "For now, for you, a worthy sword!"

"How nice. I'll take a look at it." Lebrecht said dryly. He glanced over to you. "Help yourselves. The Kommandant's got a credit account here, and I imagine you must be in need of some civilization. You've got something worthwhile here Faruq, eh?"

"Oh Effendi, I have such wonders, why just the other day, what I found within an old barrel of mackerel..." Faruq leaned in towards you conspiratorially, favoring you with a broad wink. "Was a ring! A magic ring! And it still had a single wish in it!"

It occurred to you that Faruq's eyepatch was on the wrong eye.

[OOC: Shopping time! Or possibly Swindled by Faruq time! As before, Faruq has probably whatever you need, or at least whatever you specifically decide you need. You can search for it yourself, or ask Faruq about it and he'll find it.

All prices are 20% higher than standard! However, if you can succeed at haggling with Faruq (an opposed diplomacy check), you can get the item for 20% lower!

Also, in the interests of people with weapons and armor, Faruq also sells added enchantments that can be put onto blades (so he can enchant someone's sword to make it go from a +1 to a +2, or what-not). This is represented by armor or weapon fixtures like a new set of greaves or a new pommel stone, and this is so that our warriors have a decent shot at buying stuff.

Lastly, courtesy of the Falkovnians and Kommandant Vedarrak, everyone has 10,000 gp worth of credit, plus whatever money you already have. Only caveat is that you have to spend the credit with Faruq. It doesn't transfer. (Although you can buy something from him and sell it later, though you lose a good chunk of the money that way).

Any questions?

[yalenusveler]

"Faruq!" Andre called out with a bit of a bombastic smile, or at least as much of a bombastic smile as Andre could manage. "It seems you've had as much luck as we have. Something occurs to restore sight to your eye, only for the other to have some indignity heaped upon it. Such a cruel twist of fate for an honest merchant to suffer."

Andre then began perusing the wares laid out on Faruq's table. "Tell me, if one isn't a warrior in need of an enchanted blade, or has no desire to deal with tampering in the province of Djinn and Ifrit...what would you have to satisfy the curiosity of a scholar of the lore of Gods and Magic? A cache of spells taken from a tomb forgotten by time and man, perhaps? Or something more curious and intriguing?"

[Rock of the Fraternity]

One hand on her chest, Lia performs a shallow bow to Faruq. Pharazian: "It is an unexpected pleasure to meet you again, oh prince of merchants and master of words. Fortune has truly blessed us, that we may meet again in this desolate place. How has Firaz fared in our absence?"

[lostboy]

Sascha glances around the shop with curiosity, the knight had never seen such a random cornucopia of things. His eyes roam over the weaponary and armour with the practised eye of an old warrior, and alight on several items in particular that would be most useful, a sturdy looking replacement hilt guard of just the right size, for one.

However the knight dismisses them with a smile and turns to Faruq and Lebrecht "a most glorious storehouse indeed, and I offer my sincere gratitude for your hospitality. However I carry all the tools that I need already, and should that be found wanting, well that is fate telling me my path is at an end." He pauses to pat the pommel of his bastard sword reassuringly.

"But please if any credit was to be assigned to me, please redistribute that amongst the others, I am sure there are greater needs than mine."

[The Whistler]

Otto blinks, once.

Merchant. Fast talker. Obviously quite successful. Has the habit of spontaneously appearing in places where he wouldn't normally be expected. Doesn't speak the lingua franca quite as well as those around him. Uses that fact as a bargaining chip.

The Lamordian gunsmith wasn't much one for literature, but during his time at University, he'd had a number of atrocious speculative novels forced on him by his classmates--arcane science students tending towards enthusiasm and esoteric reading habits in equal measure. One of the silliest pieces of fiction he'd ever read, then, had been one about a so-called "mirror universe"--one filled with characters uncannily similar to those in the real world, but with one or two glaring personal differences. Normally, "real" characters who crossed over would nurse long-term rivalries with their doubles--maybe because they felt their counterpart was mocking them, maybe because they subconsciously wanted to show themselves up, or maybe for some other reason.

Funny thing--a lot of the time, you could tell that someone was from the mirror realm because of a noticeable *physical* oddity. Like a goatee, for example. Or an eyepatch.

Otto advances, bows impeccably in the Pharazian merchant's direction, and flashes a smile that is all teeth.

"Faruq. Fancy meeting you here."

Hello, Opposite Number. Let's tango.

[Kaitou Kage]

Kuzan walked into the shop with a bit of dubiousness. But while the others went on their business greeting Faruq, Kuzan found something that caught his eye. A pair of goggles with reflective gold lenses held in a frame of midnight blue steel. Leather wrapped around the steel to help keep the whole thing in place. Curious, the priest slipped them on.

"Whoa, cool. What do these do?" he asked, turning toward the party.

[DocBeard]

Where...

Where did Tomas get that large, broad-brimmed hat? Why it almost looks like some sort of 'sombrero'! "What do you think? Is it me?" Tomas moves his head and the little windchimes clink against each other.

[NeoTiamat]

Muhar, Har'Akir
August 26th, 761, 5:39 PM; Day 162 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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"It is an unexpected pleasure to meet you again, oh prince of merchants and master of words. Fortune has truly blessed us, that we may meet again in this desolate place. How has Firaz fared in our absence?"

"Faruq!" Andre called out with a bit of a bombastic smile, or at least as much of a bombastic smile as Andre could manage. "It seems you've had as much luck as we have. Something occurs to restore sight to your eye, only for the other to have some indignity heaped upon it. Such a cruel twist of fate for an honest merchant to suffer."

"Oh Effendi, you do not know the half of it." Faruq fair groveled, bowing so low that you were fairly sure his hawk-like nose must've touched the ground. "Ever since you were in Phiraz, life has been nothing but horrors and chaos in the fair city of the Prophet."

"Why, they even dragged One-Eyed Faruq before the Confessors!" Faruq sighed at the indignity of the world. "But no, I told them nothing! Not a secret of yours passed my lips, not a breath, though they threatened me with the vilest tortures. In the end, they impaled my one good eye with a burning hook of iron, and left me to die."

"But Faruq does not die!" The merchant declared. "No, for how could I, knowing that somewhere in the world there yet remained those who had not sampled my humble wares. And so I lived. But a merchant with no eyes is of little use to the world, and so I was forced to use one of my many enchanted salves, gifted to me in gratitude by an immortal pasha, to regain my eyesight."

"Alas, the aim of a blind man was not so good." Faruq spread his hands. "And as I put on the salve, I missed my right eye. And so I am still One-Eyed Faruq. Do not pity me, my lords and ladies, for it is for the best. Now I do not need to change my signs."

Andre then began perusing the wares laid out on Faruq's table. "Tell me, if one isn't a warrior in need of an enchanted blade, or has no desire to deal with tampering in the province of Djinn and Ifrit...what would you have to satisfy the curiosity of a scholar of the lore of Gods and Magic? A cache of spells taken from a tomb forgotten by time and man, perhaps? Or something more curious and intriguing?"

"For you, Effendi, I have just the thing, the perfect token to appease a wise man such as yourself." Faruq snatched something off of his table without even looking at it, presenting it to Andre. It was.... a box. A puzzle box, if one wished to be technical about it. Faruq glanced at just what it was he was holding, then began his sales pitch. "For you, Effendi, nothing less than the Puzzle-Box of Horus shall do!"

"Found beneath the desert a hundred years ago by a mighty sorcerer, the Magus of Mabirah, it is an artifact of most profound power and reputation. It was with the Puzzle-Box of Horus that the people of Mabirah resisted the advances of desert nomad for six days until the Prophet of Phiraz came, and it is with the Puzzle-Box of Horus that the Prophet was persuaded to forgo taxes upon Mabirah for six years following the attacks." Faruq sighed. "Alas, all is not well in the world, and so it was that the Puzzle-Box of Horus was sold, for the grandson of the Magus was a man not wise in money, with many debts. But nevertheless, it is a great artifact, and said to have been crafted by the hand of Horus himself!"

It was a box. Square, about four inches to the side, and painted blue and covered in gilt. An animal was painted upon each surface of the box. A jackal, an ibis, a hippo, a crocodile, a cobra, and a cat.

"When the Puzzle-Box of Horus is opened, it grants the wielder and those around him power beyond compare... they are given the cunning of the jackal and the wisdom of the ibis, the endurance of a hippopotamus and the strength of the Simurgh crocodile, the speed of a cobra and the charm and grace of the cat." Faruq coughed discreetly. "Not all at once, of course..."

"Yours... for a mere eleven thousand pieces of gold." Faruq smiled, looking decidedly jackal-like himself, though rather lacking the charm and grace of a cat just now. "Surely you must agree it is a fair price for that which was once held by a god."

Some of the blue paint on the box was peeling.

Where did Tomas get that large, broad-brimmed hat? Why it almost looks like some sort of 'sombrero'! "What do you think? Is it me?" Tomas moves his head and the little windchimes clink against each other.

"It is perfect, Effendi." Faruq assured the Lamordian. "It once came from the treasure trove of a pharoah! Amentit the Erratic, he who reigned from the thousand and twenty fifth year before the Prophet to the thousand and twenty fourth year before the Prophet."

Kuzan walked into the shop with a bit of dubiousness. But while the others went on their business greeting Faruq, Kuzan found something that caught his eye. A pair of goggles with reflective gold lenses held in a frame of midnight blue steel. Leather wrapped around the steel to help keep the whole thing in place. Curious, the priest slipped them on.

"Whoa, cool. What do these do?" he asked, turning toward the party.

"Ah, Effendi, these are the Eyes of the Prophet, ground from the sand upon which the most holy Prophet has walked upon." Faruq said. "It is said that he who looks through them sees a shadow of what the Prophet sees, the inner nature of things, their souls... or lack thereof."

Otto advances, bows impeccably in the Pharazian merchant's direction, and flashes a smile that is all teeth.

"Faruq. Fancy meeting you here."

Hello, Opposite Number. Let's tango.

"Effendi." Faruq grinned broadly, showing pearly-white teeth that shone in his brown, weathered skin. "I congratulate you on the crossing of the mighty desert of Sebua."