Burning Nile Scene 02 - In the Crocodile's Jaws

This land, once full of song, has now settled into a dirge. Look at them, Father. They have forgotten who they used to be. Where is there pride? He looks down on his weathered robes. He sees reflected back the memory of armor glistening in the sun, playfully bouncing the rays back, somehow staying cool even in the desert sun.The sun tilts off a merchant selling mirrors to passerby, flashing into Erurainon's hood and interrupting the memory. He stood then where he stands now, looking at the elves in the marketplace ahead of the temple. He pulls his hood down tighter to hide his face. Where too is my pride? Looking down again he sees no armor is there to greet him. Just the sand-stained, wind-strained robes of a farmer. The only piece that stands out to the trained eyes of elves that would set him apart, aside from his doubly distinctive facial features, is the sword that hangs at his waist. A khopesh smithed in the finest forge, tempered with the waters of the Nile, quenched in the blood of a river crocodile, the blade was unmistakable to any who knew his order. He, like the finely-crafted metal, was a Sword of the White Tower.

It strikes him, as he looks around at these elves, if any would fight. If they, like him, had finally finished waiting for the time to strike. If they, like him, could feel that it was nigh. Sitting to the side of the square, Erurainon begins to sing a mundane Elven song, putting thoughts to words and striking up a simple harmony in a minor key. ♪♪ I saw a maiden come to fair, the golden sun bounced off her hair. The wind blew warm, the winds blew cold, and now my maiden's eyes are old. ♪♪ An old training song, Erurainon looks to see if there are any Swords of the White Tower in attendance that react or join into the song.

Walking alongside his master as he prepares and performs his prayers, Tefri scans the crowds. His eyes seek a familiar face, anyone that had toiled and suffered and lost as he had in the building of that temple. Surely, if they've stayed in the area, they would have heard something about events at the temple...

Etharch be damned. If this elf recognized him it could undo his element of surprise. Erurainon pulls his hood lower and tries to circumvent the elderly eldar.

Ipwet stares at the young girl, thinking hard about what she just heard. A priest cursed this temple? Surely Adom has knowledge of this, I wonder what his angle is here... After a moment she shakes away her thoughts and speaks to the child, "You did good, kid. Now scram, and don't ever let me catch you acting like some poor defenseless victim again. You have the will to survive this city, don't let it beat you." And as she turns away, "Oh, and... thanks... for keeping your eyes and ears open."

Ipwet returns to the general vicinity of the others, seeing Adom sitting patiently with his recently acquired items in his lap. "Whatcha got there, priest? Don't go thinking you're going to induct us all into your sect of death worship."

Adom looks up from the four prepared cloths as Ipwet approaches. The perfume has been doled out efficiently and evenly. He had almost considered adding more to the others' as he had a least a little experience with the stench of death. But in the end it had seemed prudent to simply give each their portion.

At the miller's words, a flash of anger crosses his face for an instant before he can regain his composure. He spent good money, and a great deal more than he had anticipated, on a kindness for each of them and all she can think to do is mock him? He has just witnessed an omen from Anubis himself.

Forcing the feeling down, he tries to keep his voice even. Not entirely succeeding, he says with a bit of an edge "What I have here is a courtesy, not a ritual. And an expensive one at that. Here, hold it like so." He folds the cloth into a palm-sized square and holds it up over his mouth to his nose. "It will help with the smell once we get inside, assuming the bodies are still present." He sighs heavily. This is not how he would prefer to deal with this situation, in company with such strange companions... but alas, it appears that they have been chosen for him.

His eyes wander over to shadowed alley she had entered. "Do you enjoy disappearing into alleyways or was there some purpose to that?"

Maybe the foreman has had to move the crew to another project somewhere else in the city. I don't seem to recognize any of the slaves around here. Swallowing down his frustration, Tefri returns his attention to his master's preparations. For the smell? I'm not sure if this is a kindness or an insult. The others have clearly been around death before and to think that this slave has never had to carry bodies is oblivious at best.