A Proposition For Wealth

Embarkation

Prologue
The fortunate and the wise had left some time before, but for those that yet remained most packed up their troubles to follow the road south towards the safety of the city walls, close on the heels of the tales that had brought them. In the heat and the dust, this migratory swarm choked the road and ravaged the land right up to the very gates of their hive.
And whilst this multitude huddled outside the gates, wondering from whence the many gods they prayed to would deliver onto them a divine crown as their means of paying the price of sanctuary, a few notables could be seen to actually leave these very same gates. 
“But what madness was this?”
“Had they not heard?”
“A caravan you say?”
“Going north?!!”
“Fools, what utter fools!”
“Don’t suppose they have a spare crown, do you?”

And so, whether through way of boarding or word of mouth, the few had found hope in the message and made their way north to what the locals referred to as Gallows Meadow…


Friday Evening
After no more than half a day’s travel, those who had made the journey knew that they’d arrived; a meadow in a valley, bisected by a river, and there where the river ox-bowed were the many coloured pavilions that spoke of the Khazim and their trading caravan.
The initial welcome was not what had been expected. Footsore from the roadside, many wished to take shelter within the caravan upon their arrival, but were dissuaded from doing so by two of their host’s men. The men went on to explain that their host, Thuram Jodassian, sent his apologies for any delay caused but he had been summoned to the baggage train to reassure and reinforce with his personal guard the precious Khazim families, who had some cause for their concern, given the local news that had been filtering from Jahan.

Those who were waiting for Thuram on his return:

Mianas Depren: Saurian Warlock!
Seshnar Depren: Saurian Healer!
Huan Caius Mereddin: Gaelic Bard
Tormod a’Faur: Gaelic Noble
Fion MacSiothaigh:Gaelic Warrior
Magnus: Fytraval Mage-smith
Sir Rhodry Maelwedd: Celestial Knight
Katriona : Romii Merchant
Malthus: Vetivan Brewer
Xiauhtecuhtli: Pochteca 
Snake: Tirnalis Ranger
Mytilian Archaeologist
Bodyguard (for the above)

Night had fallen by the caravan master’s return, but he and his people were warm in the greetings, if not as welcoming as the fire they had prepared. Where the meadow had shown its beauty in the light of dusk, now it had an eerie feel and the travellers were keen to fill the silence, though their enthusiasm in this was no match for the caravan master’s well honed skill.
After the initial greeting, the caravan master returned to his private pavilion where he treated with each traveller who had come to join his caravan in turn. Worth was weighed, terms were haggled, and agreements put to pen. During this time, the Khazim impressed all with their fire dancing whilst Mereddin the bard told brooding tales of times long past. And in the distance could be discerned the faint sounds of drumming, though whether from travelling players or local custom was unclear.
Given the dark of the moon, it was a surprise that the caravan would have any visitations that night, but there were three. The first such were three locals who had seen better days, and the skeleton of a man who would see no more. They brought him by means of the gibbet that he’d been hung by, and paraded him for all to see before hanging him from one of the nearest trees. They claimed the man had been a witch who’d terrorised the local area for many a year before he was finally captured and hung for his crimes. The body was now being moved so that all would see the truth to the tale they had heard of his capture and would thus rest easier in the knowing.
The second were men and a woman from the city itself, led by a loud type in fine clothes who pushed past those waiting for their audience with Thuram and was admitted at once. No explanation was given until after both he and the caravan master left the pavilion and the man proclaimed himself to be the herald of House Pentath from Jahan. He implied that the House were the main sponsors of the caravan, and that their sponsor wished them every success. He and the large man left soon afterwards, but the other man and the woman remained to join the caravan.
The final visit that night was from a man of obvious wealth and his retainers. Though finely dressed, their clothes were somewhat soiled and it was obvious that they had been travelling for some time. They brought troubling tales from the north, of fiends & savages dressed in skins and fur who were killing all in their path. They were on their way to Jahan and the safety of its walls, and advised all there present to join them. None did that night.

Saturday Morning
Such was the lateness of hour that the sun was well up before most has arisen, yet what the light of the sun can not achieve a woman’s cries might.
Those first to leave their tents were greeted by a chaotic scene, where the cook wailed at the murder of her apprentice and Tormod gestured towards the prone body of Magnus as the culprit. For those who asked, Tormod explained that during his watch the mage-smith had been sleep-walking, and on the second occasion Tormod decided to follow him. It was then that he witnessed Magnus slaying the girl with a strange white dagger. Though unable to save the girl, Tormod subdued Magnus and submitted him to Thuram for judgement. For his part, Magnus claimed that he had been unaware of his actions and that if he had done such things then he had been possessed to do so. After a private meeting between them, Thuram proclaimed that Magnus enjoyed the freedom of the caravan but was to be watched carefully at all times. A decision that to many minds seemed unnecessarily lenient. More travellers arrived to join the caravan soon after – A duelist for hire by the name of Captain Jeffries who’s mercenary company had been destroyed by the Urdaal, and a Khazim trader in precious metals.

Saturday Afternoon
Other than those who had joined, there was a strange absence of contact for the morn and the early part of the afternoon. Of the Celestial Priests who had given word of their coming there was no sign. The merchants for their part admired each other’s wares, and some trading and haggling occurred within the caravan, but the expected patrons were in short supply.
To this end and following a wager between the caravan master and the pochteca, Thuram announced that there would be a series of martial trials! Great were the feats performed, and much were they admired by those looking on. Finally, the two that remained fought a duel within the river and Fion MacSiothaigh bested Rhodry Maelwedd for the honour of being caravan champion.
And the trials brought with them good fortune for the caravan, for its beginning heralded the arrival of traders and customer from Jahan. First amongst them was Farzan al Farzan, of Merchant House Farzan, a modest interest who nevertheless showed great interest in what the caravan had to offer. Following closely behind were the three merchant from House Cunomar, who were particularly impressed with the trials if not necessarily with what else was on offer.
It was also at this time that many in the caravan began to believe that they were being watched. These suspicions were later to be confirmed as those with some wilderness skills were able to determine that the caravan had been being watched for some time, but by whom they could not say. The drumming from the previous evening had returned as well, but this time stronger and with an ever greater effect on the nerves of its listeners.
When the trials had finished, many took this as a good opportunity for a breaking of their fast and some well deserved rest. The peace was not to last long though. Four men arrived, three of them martial and the other demanding to see the caravan master. This other proclaimed himself to be a Tax Inspector who had taken it upon himself to absorb the caravan within his jurisdiction. This Thuram did not take well, and after some heated words a fracas developed. Outnumbered, the inspector and his men were no match for the newly honed caravan guards.
Whilst discussions were had about who might be watching the caravan, a foppish noble and his retainer arrived from the north with tales similar to those from the wealthy merchant the previous evening, if told with a greater sense of optimism.
No sooner had he wished the caravan good fortune and commented on their bravery than a significant number of armed men in livery approached from the direction of Jahan. Reports of bandits and barbarians had reached the city and a large military company had been sent out to dispatch the rogues and restore order. They were off to join the main force as a second reserve. After commenting that they may well return with tales of their victory, the soldiers made their way north.
Perhaps feeling more relaxed, the caravan was then to enjoy a period of quiet for a time, but this was merely the calm before the oncoming storm.
As if to emphasise the local dangers, more travellers from the north arrived, these mere vagabonds bereft of coin or lodging. These folk were treated humanely for they had surely suffered and were in great need of sustenance.
To the surprise of some, the caravan was then honoured with the presence of three Celestial priests. They gave their apologies that they had not been able to lead a Gathering that morning due to the demands made upon them on the road which was clogged with the newly poor and needy fleeing from the north. They proposed to speak with everyone present on the Celestial, and perhaps give a short sermon. Their intensions though were not to be fulfilled, though mayhap the result was not so wide of the mark of their purposes. Whatever had possessed Magnus before now came into its own as he tore off the rags from the still dangling skeleton and placed them on himself, always shouting to himself as if enraged. Amid much drama, Magnus and a few others present were subdued by the priests and the possessing spirit apparently exorcised from the blacksmith. It was later revealed that the spirit had been housed in the necklace that had belonged to the witch and earlier on removed by Magnus from the body. The priests declared it a thing of evil that they would return to the sanctity of the Church for safe keeping. They also gave strong warning to those there present that there would be an investigation of the caravan itself, though this was later rescinded once Thuram had demonstrated the power of his belief through donation.
Perhaps in view of the ungodly nature of the caravan, the archaeologist from Mytil and his bodyguard elected to leave at this point and attempt to find another way north or even fossils closer to Jahan’s walls.

Saturday Evening
Though very much still light, the day was moving on and the sun had begun its descent.
Another martial group was to arrive from Jahan, though this one was of a less friendly nature. Apparently, the merchants from Cunomar had been found slain on the roadside a short distance from the meadow and suspicion had fallen onto the caravan. After a tense few moments Thuram was able to dissuade their fears though he was warned that they might well return.
Yet if this was a reminder of the violence around them, it was but a distraction from the violence about to occur within. For though Captain Jefferies had been welcomed as one of their own, he was soon to prove otherwise by his fell act. Catching Thuram alone in his pavilion, he brutally stabbed him and then acrobatically made his way under the awning, past the tree and over the river before those on watch could react. Matters became worse when investigation of Thuram’s body revealed that he had been fatally stabbed in the heart by the Captain’s blade. Despite using all her skills, the Snake-woman feared to lose the caravan master as his body became weaker and his breath as quiet as his assassin had been and yet a great and unusual strength there must be within the caravan master, for in a very short time his senses and his legs returned, stranger still when examination of the blade revealed the use of a deadly and exotic poison, it is uncertain how Thuram is still of this earth, but those that saw him rise spoke of a chest that seemed wont to split once again yet an inner will that saw him rise from a now prepared deathbed, to resume command of affairs t as a nearby cry for help travelled on wind from the south. 

One of the previously seen reserve soldiers, clearly wounded and in pain and dragging his colleague behind him, immediately behind were a hand of Urdaal firing arrows into those brave souls of the caravan, who sought to aid the two soldiers and one was saved Whilst his wounds were bound he told of arriving too late and that the battle had been lost and it was on their way back to report the disaster when they found themselves surrounded by Urdaal. All but he and his companion were butchered, and only he made it this far. Though the caravan offered him sanctuary, he declined and stated that only the walls of Jahan held any safety from the Urdaal. So saying those words, he left and with him the metal trader who in answer to questions, replied merely that he must be in Jahan before nightfall and in case it fall, yet not even Quinn that he had spent so much of the day huddled in a corner with, knew really what he meant.

Now the drumming was loud and close, and the caravan knew that the time may be on hand when they would have to prove their boldness. When questioned, Thuram assured those present that the Khazim & the Urdaal had long had an understanding and that he for one was not afraid.
Yet the Urdaal came, with flame and arrow, axe and war cries.
The caravan fought bravely, felling Urdaal warriors when they came to melee. But where the caravan had perhaps a dozen or so warriors, the Urdaal were beyond count. Arrows flew in from all sides, piercing through armour like paper and dropping all who would make a stand. When comrades sought to rescue or go to melee, their shields would be shattered by the axe blows that would rein in around them.
Soon the market pavilion was awash with the blood and cries of the wounded as those with the skill sought to save the dying and repair the fallen.
In their desperation, the caravan sought to survive and adopted to use poison against their opponents. This drove the Urdaal into a terrible fury, a fury that would smash down upon those that yet remained.
Finally, when the last remaining warrior was dragged back into the market tent, it was over and complete was the caravans defeat. Yet the Urdaal stopped on the edge of the inner camp those with the strength left in fingers held apart canvas and peered out into the darkness to see their demise coming and yet the death that many expected did not come, just more war cries seemingly further away. It was at this point The Caravan Master simply rose from the floor of this canvas tomb where he had lain, probably slain and without a bandage or ointment amongst the healers, nothing could be done to save him, yet unaided, he rose and with Finn at his side went out to meet their end like warriors, yet in the gloom could be seen a line of maybe two score Urdaal and three paces in front two others, who later we learnt to be the chief and his shaman. Our leader and his remaining walking warrior, sat with them and after perhaps half a bell a deal was struck. What terms were made is unknown, though the caravan master was seen celebrating and laughing for much of the night, whilst toasting his victorious gamble and to the joy of all, the entire caravan was spared. Yet it seemed to involve the Pochteca merchant and the Gael Tormod as harsh words with each were heard whilst others tried to get their much needed sleep. 


Sunday Morning
Whatever the terms, come morning two of the Urdaal came to trade. Nervous from the night before, they were welcomed and traded enthusiastically with the merchants, buying wine and feathers for the shiny coins and furs.
More buyers came from the city. Two tiers (sons to the head of a House) of House Genrith came to peruse the wares on offer, but for all their sneering did little trade.
Next were a couple of young noble lovers, the man from House Wenteal, came to the caravan. Despite of their apparent wealth they had no guards and some surmised that they had snuck away to enjoy each other’s company. Whatever the cause of their visit, they were not well received by the caravan for they were rude to many and dismissive of the rest. After losing an argument with Mianas, the man flew into a rage and threatened reprisals on Thuram and all there present.
Meanwhile, two armed men had been invited into the camp. They described themselves as farmers by trade but had lost all they had with the coming of the Urdaal and now they and their families were in the refuge camp based around the city walls. They had come looking for work, but were not interested in joining. Discussions were had with Thuram involving the protection of customers to the caravan, a suggestion they seemed amenable to but later left suddenly without explanation. The noble lovers left soon after.

Sunday Afternoon
As time passed and discussions were turning to the journey ahead, another martial band was seen approaching the caravan from the south. With a mixture of surprise and pleasure, many recognised Captain Jeffries as the leader, though the two amongst his party in heavy armour and wielding pole arms were less welcome.
A mighty battle ensued. Though the Captain himself did not last long, his men put up a stiff fight by means of their reach and obvious protection. Eventually though, the opportunity for many to repay the lesson of the previous night was too strong a force, and the attackers were slowly picked off.
A cry went up of triumph!


In the three days before leaving Gallows Meadow
• Upon the body of Captain Jeffries was found a note requesting ruination of the caravan by any means and clearly marked as from House Genrith
• Yet more refugees arrive from the north with tales of woe
• The Herald from House Pentath reappears clutching a carved wooden box, politely insists that he sees the caravan master immediately, then leaves after a short audience, Thuram is not seen for the rest of the day. 
• A smartly dressed man of some years, suddenly arrives in the caravan asking questions about young noble lovers as he’s been sent out to look for them from House Wenteal, he then disappears as suddenly 
• Various baggage train herders and in particular the skivvy known as Buckle come rushing to fetch the caravan master, muttering darkly about the Urdaal, Thuram’s mood is never improved by these trips. 
• The Armed Farmers come back and suggest that the area isn’t safe and that the caravan should move on as some celestial priests have now been found dead and some nobles are now missing

Since leaving Gallows Meadow

A traveller’s view
And so we left the scouts, we were informed, up to ten days ahead of us, ensuring our path between further Urdaal madness, slow was the going as we stopped often to ensure safety. Often falling up to a day or two behind the oxen pulled carts burdened under a vast mountain of grains, barrelled lakes of water and bushels, piles and clusters of common and exotic goods to trade en-route and upon our destination. 

Along the road many abandoned buildings were passed, smoking woodpiles where once stood prosperous farms, many scared faces were met, some who wished to join the caravan, and were assessed, helped, enrolled or discarded. Others cursed its prosperity and spoke of worse times approaching. Once the caravan was halted for an entire day, whilst a panicking throng ran through and around it, seemingly driven mad by the loss of home and family.
Then after one moon’s travel, we saw not a soul on the road for four days, until we reached a fort, which stands as a marker of the border into Vetivan Lands by this route and whilst the fort was not opened to us for trading as it appears had been Thuram’s intended option, it did at least seem to be wholly manned, unhurt and able to assist us with refilling the water barrels. The passing of the fort seemed to mark something of a change in the scenery, it was clear to our eyes that the Urdaal had not come this way yet. The local folk, farmers in the main, were friendly, save for one young thief who tried to make off with some furs for himself, but the guard caught and gave him a pounding for his trouble. Little else of note occurred to while away the time. Of course the caravan master as ever still called us all to him after sundown on a Friday, when he reminded the faithful amongst us of arrangements for the next morning, shared his seemingly endless supply of otherwise unseen nuts, and dried fruits and aided by Malthus’s brew still seemed to offer true hospitality despite the quarter camp that we made during these travelling times. A key feature of Thuram’s “congress” as he called it seemed to be the delivery of news and the open discussion of this and other caravan matters. Here are some of the things that were discovered during these times:

• Bodies had been discovered by the roadside near Jahan of some merchants that had traded with this caravan and mistakenly suspicion has fallen upon us. Consequently all were reminded of the need to be vigilant in their duty to aid the safe and smooth passage of the caravan – and yet asked to forget this knowledge also.

• Enquiries with regard to the employer of the would-be assassin were progressing nicely and the strange Pochteca had ascertained that the poison was made in Roma and of the most expensive kind, Thuram was asked who would want him dead and swore that he had no enemies living under the sun’s kind rays. Reassuring words but rumour persists. 

• It was explained that a truce with the Urdaal had been reached with regard to our caravan and that more than once in the first moon’s travel warbands had been close enough to detect and attack us. But true to the word given back in Jahan, by their chief: crazy like a snake, had not done so. The caravan though was paying a price for this in an extended northern journey so that Thuram and Tormod would be guests at a meeting of the chiefs to take place some moons from now. It was also warned that financial penalty might be suffered at that meeting and so taxes might be rising to one half of proceeds on the traders, to cover this, should the need arise.

• We would not be travelling into Vetiver city itself. Rather our next stop of one week was to be an outpost fort of Vetiver, but in an area that should throw up interesting trading opportunities from those able to regularly trade with the Gaels in particular and also “those without city” who travelled to these northernmost reaches of the city states. Scouts would announce our arrival long before stopping to ensure custom travelled to us in time. We would expect to stop there in less than half a moon.

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