Tale #1b: The Searchers

[thenewflesh]

Old Munkley holds a finger out to shush Lou. "Who's almost here?" he asks quickly, still walking back towards the living camel as hurriedly as possible. There is a slightly sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

[Samwell Turleton]

Doc looks around and spreads his arms wide. He takes a few steps backwards beginning to disappear into the red blown dust and he motions you to follow.

[thenewflesh]

A nauseous-looking old man takes a hesitant step into the dust. He pauses, glances back at the young folk. A man in the Casketlands does not live to his ripe age without valuing discretion over valor.

What the hell. "I'm goin' in, you can come in too if you want."

The corpses follow Munkley into the dust.

[Samwell Turleton]

Tuck and Lou exchange glances with one another as they watch Old Munkley and the two bandit's corpses follow Doc into the dust.

"We are following them too, right?", Lou says as she begins to take a step. She pauses to look back at Tuck. He looks reluctant to follow but pulls the camel along by its bridle. As they follow behind at a distance they see Old Munkley disappear from view. The corpses take their steps to follow the old man. Tuck, Lou, and the camel follow behind them. The bandits walk laboriously after Old Munkley but as they take a few steps forward their bodies begin to disintegrate into the dust.

Lou and Tuck pause again, "Old Munkley, you still there? Did you do that to the corpses?"

Old Munkley doesn't hear them.

Tuck - Survive [2d6-2] = 8-2 = 6
Lou - Survive [2d6] = 6

They stand looking at one another for a moment longer and can't bring themselves to follow any further.

"I think it best if we cut our losses and try looking for the lost traders when this dust clears", Tuck says.

They begin heading back to the Casketlands.

[Samwell Turleton]

Old Munkley follows Doc into the dust. As he is doing so the figures in the shadows come into clearer focus. You have stepped across a threshold, behind you there is a red wall of blowing dust and the way forward is clear.

You are in the midst of a bustling market. The tent that Lou had seen in the distance is one of many. They are made of a dark red fabric and secured to the ground with a number of taut, light colored ropes. Awnings project off of the tents so that there is space for crates covered in foods and crafts of a dizzying variety.

A few details that you notice are piles of brightly colored powder pigments in copper dishes at a number of the stalls. Doc is standing at the first stall looking at the powdery piles of color.

[thenewflesh]

Old Munkley blinks. He has seen many strange things over the course of his life. This tops most of them. (Although there was that one incident with the floating jackal...)

He limps towards Doc and the colorful powders. "Alright, Doc, you got me beat. Spill them beans."


Hey, is it reasonable to say that I still have the vials?

[Samwell Turleton]

You still have all of your items

[Samwell Turleton]

"Welcome, welcome...come on over. You don't need to be shy here." A woman calls you over to the stall with Doc and hands him a small wax cloth wrapped parcel. Doc opens the parcel and there is a small piece of dried yellow-orange fruit inside that is dripping with honey. He eats it messily and rubs the sticky fluids onto the cloth of his pants. "Your friend here signaled us and so we have come." She hands you a matching parcel wrapped in wax cloth.

"I think it was that vial I tried to drink from." Doc says. "The voices came into my head right after that. The voices and a *pounding headache were driving me to near madness. As the voices became more clear for me I realized it wasn't just in my head. The voices were tied to the shadows in the wind and they were arriving with the dust storm. These are the people of the unbidden wind.

The woman cuts in, "It is good timing for you, you are just in time for our festival of the painted serpent to begin."

*Doc had a lot to drink, was drying out in the holding cell, and has been feeling it this morning.

[thenewflesh]

"That vial, eh? I'll be damned."

Old Munkley looks thoughtful for a moment. He snaps back and opens the parcel gingerly, like its contents are going to spill out all over his flesh and boil it. It's not like anything like that happened earlier. He prods the fruit, decides it's probably not going to kill him, and takes a bite - slowly. Munkley has learned over the years to never eat something delicious all at once; in the Casketlands beautiful and delicious things are very few and very far between. When, several minutes later, he has licked the last crumb off the wax, he returns to reality, a kind of youthful glow in his eyes.

"Well, let me tell you maam, that was somethin' else. Thankee kindly. Now, I'd be delighted to see your festival."

[Samwell Turleton]

You are most welcome!

What is ours is yours while you are here.

The woman signals a few folks to come over. Two men carrying some cloth and wood bowls head towards Doc. Doc has skin at his wrist and cheeks that has turned rotten with the touch of the black fluid of the camel that attacked you. The men that approach begin to unfurl strips of cloth and apply a salve. Doc welcomes their help as they wrap the bandages tightly around his wrist and face.

The men look at Old Munkley and offer the same treatment.

The festival should be beginning soon...take these bowls and help yourself to any of the pigments at our tables , she says as she hands Doc and Old Munkley a small wooden bowl similar to the ones carried by the men.

[thenewflesh]

Old Munkley nods, rolls up his sleeves and opens his shirt to reveal corroded flesh. He waits for the men to tend to him. He considers pinching himself, then decides against it. Better to dream.

Munkley gingerly touches the powder, half-afraid it'll catch fire or turn him into a lizard. "To tell you the truth, maam, I don't die my clothes much, myself."

EDIT: Ah, I see, did the men dip the cloths in the pigment? So I guess it has healing properties.

[Samwell Turleton]

The pigment and the salve & bandages are two separate things at the moment. The salve and bandaging will provide a little healing.

[thenewflesh]

Old Munkley takes the bowl, looking down at it with diminishing suspicion. It would be odd for somebody to feed and tend to him before trying to kill him with horrific explosive powder.

"Thankee very much again, maam. If you could just point Doc and in the direction of this festival..."

[Samwell Turleton]

Old Munkley is already starting to feel the salve warm against his skin. It has a nice calming aroma of crushed flowers.

If you just keep walking to the center of this ring of tents that is where the festivities will start. There is already a crowd starting to form over there..., she points.

You see a joyful group of people, a wide range of ages all delighting in the company of each other. They all carry wooden bowls that are similar to the ones given to you and Doc but unique as one handmade object is from another.

There are some large piles of silvery sage bundled together at the edges of the tents and you see that they are all being lit. The white smoke drifts up from the burning leaves and begins to create a haze at the edges of the tents.

Doc is scooping a big handful of ochre pigment into his bowl until it mounds at the top. The hand he scoops with is stained the ochre color but that doesn't do anything to lessen the big grin on his face.

+1 vitality Doc (5/8 Vitality is my current tally after this is added back)
+1 vitality Old Munkley (6/8 Vitality is my current tally after this is added back)

[thenewflesh]

Old Munkley limps away towards the tent, pleased but bewildered. As Doc starts doing the scooping thing, Munkley stares at him quizzically. "What're you doing there, Doc?"

He scoops a handful of pigment onto his bowl, too, so as not to look stupid. He is, after all, effectively a tourist.

Apologies for the delay. You can expect some more of these till about 2/3 through the month.

[Samwell Turleton]

Doc replies, I know as well as you do what is going on but it seems to be the thing that is done.

The group gathered in the direction that the woman has pointed begin to make some excited murmuring sounds. Two drummers, with taut skin drums and a mallet with a bright white ibis feather that bounces from the end of the handle, beat a steady rhythm as they process into the crowd. The crowd parts expectantly, after the drummers find their way to the middle, creating a lane. You see a fabric serpent raised onto shoulders of dancers who then lift it higher on poles. The puppet of the large serpent is made from a clean off-white cloth and the dancers bobbing the serpent up and down on the poles below are wearing similarly colored clean white cloth wrappings.

The drum beat steadily continues and the dancers bob the head of the serpent left and right at the edge of the crowd.

[Samwell Turleton]

Participate as you are able and I will try to be quick about getting a response up so you have some flexibility to post when you want.

[thenewflesh]

Old Munkley shrugs at Doc. He hasn't been a tourist in a strange place in many, many years. He blinks at the festivities, still bewildered but delighted. "Reminds of the great slug massacre of '36..." he whispers to Doc.

Life unexpectedly calmed down. I'm ready to participate more actively.

[Samwell Turleton]

The drum beat picks up its pace slightly. The serpent puppet's head arcs side to side and then dives low into the lane crowded on both sides with people. As its head passes among the crowd there is cheering and a cloud of colorful dust sprays into the air as people grab pigmented powders from their bowls and throw it at the body of the serpent. The eruption of color, dancing, and merriment processes down the line with a cascade of colorful clouds rising up above the festival. People fling powder into the air and get covered in it themselves.

[thenewflesh]

Old Munkley flings powder in the air himself, almost unthinkingly, so swept up in the proceedings is he. For the rest of the show he is absorbed in the show and in lockstep with the others' actions.