• PM To Join • The Edge of the Scimitar

[Demda]

43rd of Vhalar 720

It’d been days since Demda had mixed the tanning solution, and the stench was still on her nose, although she tried to cover it with what scents she could acquire to her face covering. Even after the sandstorm had divided the tribe, leaving them to scatter to the sands of the Southern Hotlands, Demda couldn’t outrun that lingering smell of half-rotted animal fats. Not even as she’d left the dusty desert behind, and found her way into the more fertile areas of the south.

The halfriel woman sat astride her thorned horse, letting go at its own pace as it would, but guiding it in a specific direction. She took out the bronzed compass she had kept as a trophy from that fallen horse-thief, and checked her direction. Still going south and east. She looked over her shoulder at the dusty lands she’d come from, and shrugged. It looked like the worst of the desert storms were over. But it’d take time for any of the Ulema to track her down. That is, if they even thought it worth their while to do so.

The kalba hunt had been a success by all accounts, but she’d yet to reap the benefits of their plunder, whatever that entailed. Likely the Ulema would prioritize the trade of the hides and bones and sinews of the kalba that were hunted down, before they even gave thought to what had occurred to the red-haired woman that was following along with them until the storm.

Demda trotted along on the thorned horse for what seemed like breaks, before she saw what looked like a small settlement, or a farm of some kind. Once she glimpsed it, she began slowing down, waving her hands to get anyone’s attention, and prove her peaceful intentions.

She only hoped that they would be receptive. She got closer to the dwelling that was attached to the farm, and carefully slid off of her mount. She checked her throwing knives, in case there was trouble, though she didn’t expect too much from a farmer. One never knew what kind of guard animals they might have on hand.

”Hello? Is there anyone home?” She thought she heard animal noises, or else voices coming from behind the dwelling, and went to check there. ”I’m… I’m willing to trade, if you’ll let me share your water?”

[Hankley]

"Stop wiggling!"

Hankley was behind her house with a trough and a bucket, staring angrily at a Nashaki Ox. Her Nashaki Ox, Brach. There were was wet sand all around the large creature, which was anything but imposing at the moment. It was shirking back away from her, a loofah in her hand, trying to be small, which was difficult for the massive creature.

"Brach, I need to give you this bath. You hate sand fleas. This will make them stop biting you as much."

The spiky creature brayed loudly in protest as Hankley inched closer, the loofah dripping water. Hankley cooed, reaching out with her empty hand, "It's okay, my love. I would never hurt you. Just relax." She eased forward and Brach stopped trying to shy away. She reached out, pressing her hand against the skin of his neck. "There's a good boy. You're so pretty, I just want to make sure you're clean and happy."

She rubbed at his neck and face for a long while, relaxing him more and more, before she brought the loofah up. She let him see it first, and she felt him tense up a bit. While letting him see it, she leaned forward, nuzzling at his face with her own, and she did so until she felt him relax some more. And then she brought the loofah to his neck and began to wash him. She took it slow, making sure to get every nook and cranny, working up underneath his armor and spikes.

And when she was done, she set the loofah back on the window sill to dry, and then led Brach to the trough to drink the water that was leftover. And when he was done drinking, Brach bellowed happily, and knocked Hankley down, nuzzling at her face with his. Hankley was laughing, rubbing his neck playfully as the creature laid down on his belly, rolling about in the short, tufted sedge that grew here.

Then she heard a woman voice, calling out. Asking if anyone was here. A visitor. Hankley smiled, she loved having visitors, the friendly kind at least. She already had enough bandit problems that she wasn't sure how to handle yet. Hankley stood up, patting Brach on the neck, "Come, my love. Let us go say hi. It will be okay, nothing to be afraid of."

She knew Brach was still a bit fearful of outsiders, and as expected, he walked closely behind her, trying to hide his massive frame behind her small one. Hankley walked around the corner and saw the woman there, heading toward the back. Hankley's smile only broadened at the sight of the redhead. She was beautiful, a bit shorter than Hankley, and was dressed as someone rather used to traveling in the desert.

"Welcome traveler!"

Hankley walked forward, palms out before her, showing she wore no weapons on her person, "Welcome to my home. My name is Hankley, and I care for this land. You may have as much water as you'd like from the well out front. After you've drank enough, and filled your waterskins, we can discuss some business if you'd like."

Hankley then turned, gesturing toward Brach, "This is Brach. He's shy, a little afraid of you, but he's very protective of me." It was a polite way of saying that she wasn't to be messed with. Sometimes it worked, sometimes not. It helped that he was often scary looking, and Nashaki Oxen did have a bit of a reputation to those in the region.

"The well is around front here," Hankley gestured back to the front of the house. Hankley could hear the reverberating Call of the well water. It was the lifeline of the area, beating like one, giant heart, a sound only she could hear as a Defier. "I don't have anything cooking right now, but if you're hungry, we can share some fruit I grow. Do you like dates or melons?"

WC: 659/659

[Demda]

Demda halted and almost seized up when she saw the huge creature next to the Qi’ora that greeted her from behind the hut. It took a moment for her to compose herself. Yet, Demda relaxed when the other made it clear by extending her empty hands that she wasn’t hostile. She had met a few Qi’ora during her time, but many of them propped themselves up as masters and a sort of aristocracy within the city of Nashaki or at least an upper class of the most excellent craftsmen and merchants. She didn’t know they had a proclivity for tending the earth, as this woman seemed to. But then, Demda hadn’t spent much time in the breadbasket of Nashaki. In fact, she’d not set foot outside of that city until the cycle immediately prior to this one.

”Welc… Hello,” Demda spoke in common. She had trouble discerning everything that the Qi’ora was saying, as her common wasn’t the best, but she could follow well enough at certain words and attempted conjugations. She smiled at the woman despite herself. She really did seem to be very friendly, offering water and shelter and possibly provision.

She did remain cautious, however, very much on the backfoot. She remembered the ‘hospitality’ of her elderly neighbor, who’d turned her in as soon as she confessed to what she did to her lover Qais. While it was very unlikely that anyone this far south cared or knew anything about some slumlord’s live-in girlfriend killing him, she was on her guard for false hospitality, having suffered through being trapped by such an offer.

She kept aware, therefore, noting any hitches and catches in the other woman’s breath, that might tell her of a sense of anxiety. She saw nothing of what she’d noted in the elder that had betrayed her. Slowly, she came to ease herself into the offer made, and turned to look at her horse, which’d followed her over toward the back of the hut. ”I’m Demda, by the way… This horse… I didn’t name him yet, actually. It’s nice to meet you. And to meet, Brach, of course.”

”He’s a gelding.” She said, as if that was important. Or maybe she wanted him to seem less valuable, and less likely to induce another betrayal.

”I would be very thankful for however much water you have to spare, yes… And food… Well, I’m not very hungry. I can pay you nels for your hospitality.” Demda offered, and then almost kicked herself. Admitting that she had nels was not the smoothest turn of phrase. Yet it was out there now. More than once, she regretted not having followed through an apprenticeship to Dimza, to learn his duplicitous ways.

She pat her thorned horse on the snout, whispering to it to calm it down, enough that it would stay put where it was until she had need of it. She didn’t tie it down to any of the corals or any sort of hitch nearby, in case she had a make a swift runaway. She didn’t like being stranded. She did take about a dozen waterskins off of the saddlebags, which they hung from.

”Melons?” The half-breed quirked a brow at the mention of the fruit. Dates she knew, as they were plentiful even farther north. She hadn’t realized the sugary fruits were from this area primarily, but it stood to reason.

”Do you own this farm? It’s very nice here, very peaceful…” Demda glanced this way and that, as if expecting the fates to show her otherwise with a sudden bandit raid. But no, doubtless any bandits probably relied on local farmers as much as the soldiery of Nashaki, and the local tribes.

She thought several times to ask for directions back to Nashaki, but she knew from her travels that it was north and slightly east. Even after being separated from her tribal wardens, she could use her compass to find the way, failing any sudden detours.

”Are you sure you don’t want nels for water?” Demda asked uncertainly, still not trusting that anyone would give up something so precious from the goodness of their heart. ”My tribal escort isn’t far from here… THey should be finding me any moment, and I’m sure they’d also repay or trade you for the refills.”

Demda, in fact, had no idea where her escort was, much less knowing whether they looked for her or not. It seemed like a good thing to mention, however, in case the Qi’ora farmer’s intentions weren’t correct.

[Hankley]

Hankley smiled at the woman, "Well, perhaps your horse will tell you his name when he's ready. Brach said his when I first found him." It was quite literally the first noise he made when he had seen her. She was fairly certain it was a type of belch he made. She didn't know what the word gelding meant, but she didn't follow up on it. "Please, help yourself to the water, truly. It is no more mine than it is anyone else's, and everyone needs water. And we have more than we can use here."

Arriving at the well now, a simple structure of stones and a roof of reeds, with an axel for the bucket on a rope. She held up a hand and a polite smile, "Hospitality does not require nels. I'll give you plenty of time to spend your coin, but not for this." She unhooked the catch lever, letting the bucket fall down into the well. And it didn't have to fall far before it splashed down in the water, sinking beneath the surface due to the heavy stone in the bottom of it. Then Hankley began heaving and turning the crank. She worked up a sweat, heavily focusing on the task at hand, insisting on performing it herself. Her arms were weary, as they clearly didn't have much muscle to them, but she kept at it until the heavy bucket was in reach. She pulled it off the eye-hook, and set it on the edge. "Please, help yourself."

She then gestured to the large swath of plants to the north and northwest of where they stood by the well. "Yep, melons are quite happy here. They grow native just on the edge of the mangroves." Hankley left Demda there by the well, walking over and plucking one from the vine, and carrying it back. It had a dull, yellow outer skin, rough and webbed. Holding it up, between them she smiled, proudly, "These can hold more water than a water skin, and get sweeter after picking them. They don't lose their water to the sun either. Great for you traveling types. They are durable enough to survive traveling, so long as animals don't walk on them." She shot Brach a dirty glance, as he was now over feasting on the melons he'd broken earlier.

"And I suppose you could say I own this farm, though really, I prefer to think of myself as its caretaker. The land needs no owner, really. I live here, and in exchange, I care for it. And it is peaceful, most trials. Most visitors are friendly enough. And should your escort come, they likely know they are welcome here too. I may have actually met them before, though there's nomads a plenty in these parts. Are you coming from Athart then? Heading for the big city?"

She whistled at Brach, summoning him over. Well, whistled twice as he ignored her the first time. Then he lumbered over, standing behind her, still nervous around Demda. "Stay." Hankley brought the melon close to Brach's beak, and he started to open it. "Ah ah. Stay," while pulling the melon away from him. Then she brought it close to his beak again, and this time it stayed closed. She pressed it against the tip of his beak, and it sliced cleanly through the fruit, splitting it in half. She offered one half to Demda, letting the woman see the sweet, orange fleshy interior, accompanied by the many seeds in the center. She held the other out for Brach, "Eat it." The ox reached out, took the fruit, and munched on it, while eyeballing the half being offered to the stranger.

"If your escort shows up, you can let them know that the water is free, and that if they need to make camp, they can do so for some small compensation."

She then looked over at Demda's horse, "I'm not so familiar with... geldings. What does it eat? I will happily feed and water it as well."

674/1333

[Demda]

Demda glanced at her thorned horse in some skepticism, wondering if he would begin talking and naming himself. Somehow she doubted the beast had enough thoughts to so much as make an intelligible sound. But Demda had been surprised before, and not always unpleasantly.

The more Hankey spoke to Demda, the more at ease the half-breed felt in her company. Although she wasn’t going to let her guard down just yet, at least not completely, she felt better about partaking of her hospitality. Perhaps she wasn’t like everyone else in the cursed drylands to the north. Such abundance in hospitality must be an attitude born of an abundant and prosperous lifestyle. Although the woman in front of her didn’t seem to have much in the way of wealth at first glance, Demda noted the lovingly crafted bone jewelry, the dignity with which she held herself, and the attitude she had toward her animals and the land itself.

It was enough to prompt Demda to filling her skins from the well. She quietly did so, listening to Hankley speak of the melons, how they could hold even more fluid than a waterskin. She took note of that, and would remember the location of this farm, should her travels ever take her through this area again. It’d be useful to have a dedicated stopping point to refresh and replenish supplies. That is, if drylands bandits didn’t come down to accost the poor Qi’ora. Demda shuddered to think of it, yet she couldn’t help it. The world could be a cruel place, and none anymore than the Hotlands, where beauty was turned upside-down and only the strong survived.

Once Demda had finished filling her skins, she turned to watch as hankley fed her… oxen… thing. Demda had never seen something like it, but supposed that was due more in part to her sheltered life up to last cycle. Perhaps there were entire herds of these chitinous, gentle beasts. Idly, and somewhat to her shame given the gentleness with which Hankley was treating Brach, she wondered if their meat was any good.

Demda jumped slightly as Brach’s beak cut through the hardened melon, but accepted the half with shaky hands. Bringing it to her face, she smelled in the sweetly smelling innards of the fruit. It reminded her of honey scents of the Western Markets.

She took a small bite of the flesh of the melon, and felt a slight twinge in her neck as the sweetness registered on her tongue. She didn’t realize how hungry she’d been until she tasted the juice of the melon. She found herself reaching for one of the throwing knives hidden in the folds of her sash, and began cutting out pieces she could feed directly into her mouth. She felt the blush rise up through her neck and into her cheek and then her ears. Before long, she was tearing through the rest of the melon half. ”Thank you!” She said, when she’d finally finished, leaving just some skin of the fruit.

When Hankley mentioned her escort, Demda felt slightly guilty for misleading her. ”I’m not actually sure if they will come for me. I was hoping I could get directions back to the city… And I’m not from Athart, I’ve never been there. I’m from Nashaki.”


When Hankley said she wasn’t familiar with geldings, Demda couldn’t suppress a chuckle. ”Geldings… it means he’s castrated, he cannot breed. His breed is something else, what the Nashaki call a thorned horse.”

At that, the horse neighed in a strange enunciation, ”Meonk!” Demda lifted a brow at the strange sound it made, and shrugged. She supposed it’d chosen its name then…

”They can go for weeks without food and water, but maybe it’d be good to fill it up with what it’ll need, in case I end up wandering astray… again.”

[Hankley]

At being thanked, Hankley's smiled broadened, "My pleasure! I'm glad you like them!"

The next bit of conversation was... confusing. This woman said she was from Nashaki, yet knew not which way it was to get to Nashaki. And if she was with an escort, why would she need directions? Maybe... Maybe the woman was lost and scared. Maybe she had lied about being with an escort, or had been left behind. After all, it seemed odd that the escort not be nearby enough to stop when this woman stopped.

Clearly this woman needed help.

But when she began to talk about her horse, Hankley cocked her head a bit in even more confusion. "Why would you not want him to breed? He's beautiful! And clearly doing what he's supposed to be doing." Hankley wondered if this woman had castrated the poor creature herself, or had bought him that way. It was utterly barbaric.

As the creature made its amusing noise, Hankley faced it smiling, "Meonk to you too. Poor thing."

Returning to the original question she'd asked about the horse, "Would he eat fruit? I also have some grains growing to the south over there."

But those final words from the woman confirmed it. She went astray from her escort. That seemed pretty dumb if you didn't know how to get back home. Hankley had come to this land by escort and would need one to return to Nashaki. Not that she had any desire to do so.

"Well, everyone who leaves from here after visiting, says they are heading northwest toward the city. And the sun rises in the east in the morning. So..." She began turning around, first looking east where the sun normally rose, then pointed off in a general northwesterly direction, "Nashaki should be that way... ish. If you hit the sea, keep going north. And watch out for slavers, I've heard they are especially bad in that neck of the woods."

But this woman was alone. And clearly didn't know her way about. This made Hankley worried for her. Her smile softened, to one reminiscent of a mother weighing a difficult decision.

"Look... if you've lost your escort..."

She crossed her arms, the concern showing on her face, "You can stay here until the next caravan comes that is going to Nashaki. They aren't incredibly common, but they do pass through from time to time. You'll have to work if you do stay, but I'll keep you and your horse fed and watered, and give you a place to rest."

426/1759

[Demda]

There was always bound to be some culture shock when it came to meeting the outlying tribes or locals outside of Nashaki. Many of them did not see things the way that city folk did, or perhaps had come from the city originally and adopted the ways of the desert. In any event, the disconnect was illustrated in exemplary fashion here between Demda and Hankley.

Truth be told, Demda had panicked when the sandstorm had struck the escort, as it headed out to help more of the caravans find their way. In the confusion, of trying to find her way, she must’ve gone the wrong way and ended up far south of where she meant to be.

To Hankley’s question, ”Oh, it wasn’t my decision. That’s how I acquired him. Otherwise yes, he’s a very good animal, and I wouldn’t mind breeding him if I knew more about husbandry.”

Demda smiled at the horse, and then listened to Hankley’s directions. At that, Demda took out her compass, which had a desert wolf embossed on the bottom of it. The needle sure enough pointed in a direction that confirmed Hankley’s directions. ”Oh… my of course it would be to the North West… I think if I head out after the sun has gone, I might be able to even catch my escort. Thank you!”

That being said, Demda was interested in some of the food that Hankley might’ve had on offer, she needed a refill of rations for the days long journey back to the city, or to her escort. The mention of slavers did get her hackles raised, however. But she was confident she could spot them before they spotted her.

”I appreciate the offer of allowing me to stay the night, but I should go after the suns have gone. The desert is best traveled under the stars, where I can easily get my bearings… although a compass helps as well.” Demda smiled at Hankley. ”That said, I’m willing to pay for extra food and rations if you have any to sell?”

[Hankley]

Hankley nodded, listening to the woman. She seemed to only need a bit of aid and encouragement, and now seemed more confident in both her direction and the ability to catch her companions. That was good, and the sigh of relief escaped Hankley's lips as a light whistle. She would've worn the guilt if she'd learned this woman died getting lost and she hadn't tried to help.

The woman yet again offered to pay, and this time Hankley would not refuse. "I'll happily sell you some rations for your trip. Come, let us care for Meonk, fill him with water and grains, if that is amenable to you?" Hankley led the way toward her sorghum and maize, her thin wrap covered hips swaying lightly as she went. "What sort of rations do you seek? I have goods that can last for longer journeys, as well as those for quicker consumption."

She stopped at the green stalks at the edge of her sorghum field. She pulled a rusty hand sickle from her waistband, reaching out and cutting off several of the rusty, brown hued grain flowers. She turned, delicious bouquet in hand, offering them to Demda, "Will you see if Meonk will eat these? Brach eats them, but he eats everything."

She then smiled and waited, "I have sundried dates which will last far longer than the journey to Nashaki, and you can sell whatever you have left in the city for a tidy profit. I can also provide you sacks of this sorghum grain and sacks of maize. Water, heat, and they will provide you plenty of sustenance to get home. And, of course, I can offer you melons, but you won't be able to carry too many of those on Meonk. They also sell really well in the city, particularly among the affluent."

Then smiling at Meonk, "If he likes those, or would rather something else, he can eat and drink his fill, no nels necessary. Would you like a meal? I have some things I can throw together and we can share stories over a skin of wine, if you'd like?"

360/2119

[Demda]

These rustic folk in the Scimitar were different, strange, but in a good way. Idly Demda wondered if she’d find those tribesman who’d offered to take her in were much the same? She supposed when there weren’t walls to keep one in, they had to have some kind of social skills to prevent everything from descending into chaos. It begged the question whether city folk were all that more civilized than those living in the countryside.

For the moment Demda relaxed, a weight of suspicion off of her shoulders. She was reasonably assured that this woman was no threat to her. Reasonably. Afterall, if she owned all of this wealth of food and land, what could Demda have that she’d want?

”I will pay then, happily, in nels. Yes… Meonk… Let’s just call him Monk for short? Me-onk is a bit of a mouthful.” Demda gave Hankley a small smile at that. Monk seemed ok with the impromptu name-alteration. ”This land you have, is incredible. I’ve never known it was this green to the south! I’ve been as far as Rharne to the north, but this is something else.” Demda took in the scenery as she followed behind Hankley, handing her the reins to Monk. Hankley would find Monk cooperative to her hands.

Demda listened as she listed off the things she had on offer from the farm, and the nomad thought she could weep for the abundance the Qi’ora enjoyed. She almost felt jealous, but was happy for this kind and gentle person, just trying to survive on the edge of nowhere.

”I think half long-lasting rations, and half of the kind that are good for quick eating? And yes I think I’d like to take dates and some of the melons. Let’s…” Demda thought for a moment, her vivid green eyes blinking through the setting sun. ”I’d love to join you for a meal first. And swap stories.” Demda was certainly intrigued at what stories this exotic woman at the fringe of the Scimitar had to tell. There were mysteries in the desert, things long gone unseen by many generations past. Ancient cities hidden by the sands that predated even some of the Immortals.

Demda for her part lacked many stories… but then, she did have her adventure the last cycle. Perhaps she could relate the harrowing tale of how they’d outrun the desert wolves, and how she’d almost been devoured by them before finding her feet and unhorsing the man who’d stolen Monk.

They took care of Monk’s needs, allowing him to graze and take his fill of water. It was only kind to let the animal that had been burdened by her for so long to take a drink when he wished. And by shade and water, Monk was thirsty.

She would follow behind Hankley, and help her throw together whatever she wished for dinner. Wine sounded very good at this point.

[Hankley]

Hankley smiled, "Monk it is!" Though she had already decided she'd call him Meonk in private. Monk was a good nickname. And then Demda went on to praise the land that Hankley had come across, "Where there's water, green follows. I'm glad you appreciate it, it truly is a gem." Demda then handed her Meonk's reins and Hankley was honored to be trusted in such a way. She was gentle and slow, cooing lightly as she led Meonk to the grains. It became quite clear rapidly that Meonk really loved them. As he chomped the heads off the stalks, Hankley stroked his neck, making sure to keep herself in vision of him. She didn't wish to spook him.

Hankley listened, noting Demda's desire on the rations. Half and half was smart. This woman was clearly thinking about the potential resale value without sacrificing her own survival. And for a brief moment as Demda continued to think, Hankley watched the sunset flare up in her emerald eyes, and she found herself smitten with the beautiful sight. She was stunning, and this was her finest hour, it seemed.

After Meonk ate his fill, Hankley led him to the trough and let him drink his entire fill. The entire time she talked to him, not needing responses. "I bet you've seen so much. Been a long journey, huh? Keeping Demda safe? How long has it been since you've met another of your kind?" She pet him and stood with him for a long while until he was done.

Turning to Demda, "Come, let us make some food and quench our thirsts as well. Monk will be safe while Brach is about." She reached out and gently took Demda by the hand, if she'd allow it, and led her into the house. She began rummaging through the cabinets, pulling a few things out and setting them on her table. Her home was sparsely decorated, a few shiny stones, curled pieces of wood, etc. It was basic and quaint, and for Hankley, comfortable.

She pulled out a block of goat's cheese and a summer sausage, both of which she'd traded for with a caravan that had come through. Gesturing to one of the chairs at the table, "Please, get comfortable. How did you come to be down this way?" She grabbed a piece of wood and an old, bone knife, sitting in a chair opposite the one she'd offered to. She began to slowly cut the sausage into slices, the cheese into chunks, working and listening to anything that Demda might say. She occasionally got up and prepared some dried dates, halving and removing the seeds, fresh dates similarly prepared, and a few wild fruits she'd found in the nearby swamps. Once everything was cut and neat upon the board, she carried it around the table, setting it on the corner next to Demda, sitting around the corner as well. Smiling up at her, "Do you enjoy a grazing platter? It's not near as lavish as one might find in Nashaki."