The Zhanaarkan Dead

- Resurgence 1.1 : The Zhanaarkan Dead -

Karavan. Above, two massive airships, the Kalabalik and the Aman Iki, loom over us, as much a reminder of safety as a threat to those who would break the yassa. On the ground, a fleet of ground vehicles, each bristling with guns and men. Here live a harsh people. A people who have made their home the endless road and violence their boon companion. We are the wolves of the desert, who sleep in the shade when sun beats down upon us, hot and unforgiving; but when the sun fades and skies fill with the blinking stars against an boundless eternity, we run and bound and howl at the moon. So begins a saga of sinners and saints, fear and betrayal, of second chances and last words. I was there from the start, at the hopeful embarkation upon a new journey, and I was there at the finish, when the darkness threatened to put out the stars. This was our peregrination of water and sand. This is Karavan.

The sun rises on Zhanaarka.

It was with a mixture of relief and apprehension that Akniet looked out his window and saw the great airships of Karavan looming beside his town. Serik had arrived just last night; now Karavan was here. It was his desperate hope that there would be help to be found.

Hope. Akniet let out a heavy sigh. He had so little. In truth, this was a desperate gambit. The Yassa was clear: Karavan does not interfere with local matters unless it has sizable relevance to the entire city. It was a sensible law; as a nomadic people, Karavanli could all too easily misunderstand the nuances of a local situation. Unfortunately, it was also a law that meant he could not expect much from them. As a small farming community and minor trading post, there is no way Zhanaarka could be considered to be of "sizable relevance" to anything at all. Rahimah would try to help, bless her, but even she had to obey the Yassa. And even Serik would not be able to do this alone.

Standing at his window, Akniet watched the sun's light creep across the rooftops, his faith wavering.

---

In the shadow of Kalabalik, an RV slows to a stop, surrounded by the bustling throng of the market. People are everywhere, setting up booths and tents full of produce and finished goods. The air is thick with the scent of wormwood and purple sage and the stalls are bedecked with brilliantly colored fabrics. The sounds of heated arguments, boisterous children, and impassioned vendors throb above the ambient hum of the Karavanli vehicles. Above it all, the mighty airship looms, shielding those beneath from the sun with its titanic body. Karavan has arrived.

It had been a fairly strenuous journey. Oh, the travel stops were handy enough on the way to Zhanaarka, but at the end of the day, such travel wears on a person. Especially the Doctor, who was unused to the chaotic 'traffic lanes' that sprung into existance and then just as quickly melted away as tribal members shifted to maintain their respective relationships. At last arriving in the next town of port, The Doctor kills the motor and quietly removes his glasses from the bridge of his nose as he listens to the whirr of mechanisms slow down - along with the quiet breeze that had been circulating from the air-vents. The glasses are then tucked neatly into a case, which is then inserted into an internal jacket pocket.

At last, Kraft leaves the driver's seat, pausing to collect his thoughts before speaking aloud.

"My dears, welcome to Zhanaarka." Another moment passes while the Doctor removes his 'driving gloves', before he speaks again. "I believe I shall seek out, within this commune, the person or persons of ill-fortune who so desperately need our help. You're welcome to join me, or to travel as you wish."

For a moment, a quiet frown crosses through the Doctor's features as he considers the 'bike rack' that had been so hastily attached to the rear of his RV to support Ace's rocket bike; It didn' t amount to much, but he could swear he felt the difference in the way the RV swayed with the breeze.

. o O (In addition, that falcon is molting on purpose - just to irk me.) O o .

"I'd suggest, either way, that we gain ourselves a bit of fresh air, hmm? And see what awaits."

Ace stretched her arms upwards as she rolled out of her bunk. She scratched her stomach as a large yawn escaped from her gaping mouth. It had been a long ride, and the bed's of the RV were not of the highest quality. She would have to fix that once she found a better mattress.

She sauntered over to the table where the cage of her present from Jack set. The bird was sound asleep, it's head tucked under one wing. How lucky it must be, to live life eating and sleeping. Ace ran her finger over the brass cage. "Time for mommy to go to work."

Ace turned her attention to the doc. She leaned on the back of his seat, and peered out through the windshield. "Whelp lets go make some nuyen."

Speaking of sleeping, a large part of the trip was spent by Nalan in her cot as well. She never knew just how deeply one could sleep given the right conditions, or rather, given the absence of the wrong conditions. In this case, it was a combination of a bed that wasn't a lumpy mattress supported by a few jutting wires, and the lack of other people coming and going, talking or coughing, or whatever other annoying activities they often did in the common area to keep her from getting a sound night's sleep. She had long ago grown accustomed to resting in a moving vehicle, in fact she found it easier to drift off with the soothing rumble of the engine and the comforting swaying of the RV lulling her to sleep.

But enough was enough, and as soon as she heard the Doctor's announcement she bolted up, confused for a second about her unfamiliar surroundings. Then she spotted Ace, and memory returned to her with a grimace. First impressions were hard to let go, but Nalan shook her head to clear them, and then dropped down to the floor. "Sure," she nodded eagerly at the Doctor's offer. "I'll go with you. Um, do you think you'll be needing any air support for this? Or is it just gonna be a meet 'n' greet?"

"I'm certain we could even find a more suitable place for your bird." States the Doctor to Ace, glancing once at the beast. "For instance, as I understand it, birds enjoy free air. We could very likely strap it to the roof, so that it doesn't become claustrophobic." . o O (Or sell it to a meat vendor, and use the nuyen to purchase more disinfectant.) O o . None the less, the Doctor takes a moment to brush the wrinkles from his suit, and pull out the Predator. From his bin comes a small box of bullets, which quietly find their way into clips. Which are, in turn, hidden amongst his person while he speaks to Nalan.

"Truth be told, I'm not quite certain just yet. From your statement, however, I assume you have the capacity to do just that?" A glance aside, an eyebrow arching upwards along with the side of the Doctor's lips. "I am further enamored with your abilities day by day. Still, lets do as the Archivist suggested, and meet directly with the mayor of this troubled villa first and foremost, to determine the root of the problem."

*Click-CLAK*. The clip loaded back into the Predator, the Doctor pulling the slide to load the first round. The monocle neatly mounted atop his left cheek, whirring as it comes online and begins synchronizing with the Predator's smartlink.

"After all, there's no reason we can't be civil, is there?"

The Doctor, quite cheerful, then holsters the heavy pistol and opens the door to a bright afternoon in Zhanaarka.

As he walks out into the sun, Kraft is hit with a wall of dry heat. He'd learned to expect it by now, and he could only feel it on his face, but walking out into the desert air never stops feeling like stumbling into a brick wall.

A path leads into the town, a sprawling collection of dusty houses colorfully bedecked with clotheslines and obscured by the market stalls set up around the RV. The sun does not feel too bad, but that is in no small part thanks to the shadow of Kalabalik. In the distance, a modest villa rises higher than the rest, only challenged by the steeple of the church. The ground is hard and lightly fissured and little clumps of dry weeds grow here and there. Through the haze of dust, the scent of Sagebrush is barely discernible.

Nearby, sounds of yelling could be heard, and as the door to the trailer slammed open, the screaming gained volume. ...old you that this was something I have to do... The travel trailer lifted perceptably as a massive frame squeezed itself through the doorway. The travel trailer itself had seen its share of road, and was covered in a thick layer of dust and grime on the front half, the windows opaque with the accumulated dirt. The Thundercloud Morgan to which the trailer was attached was equally dirty, and to those who knew what to look for, had seen some modification. Some of the modifications were quite obvious, including the large flat rack, approximately six feet by eight feet long on the rear of the buggy, slopping up towards the front, made from square tubing and covered in the same thick layers of grime and dirt. The grim and dirt didn't quite obscure the darker staining of the steel that was obviously blood. Less obvious was the more rearward placed driver's seat and modified roll cage. Gone was the usual gunner's position that most Morgan\'s came stock with, and upon seeing the owner of the vehicle, the need for the modifications became immediately obvious.

The 'man' leaving the trailer, in so much as he can be called a man, is a solid hunk of troll flesh standing well over seven feet tall and weighing in at almost half a ton. His massive horns stand out almost a foot to each side of his low sloped forehead, and curl up and away from his face slightly. The flaming red horns contrast in color with the stark blackness of the tangle of hair that encircles the back his head and flows down the back of his coat.. His face is a twisting gnarl of broken features, the goblinization process not having been kind to him. His thick dark eyebrows slope down from his knotted and rigged forehead, and his mouth is twisted open, wide at the corners in order to make room for the 3 inch upward thrusting fangs.

His neck is almost non-existant as his massive frame expands outwards and downwards from his head. The man is almost four feet wide at the shoulders and his massive long coat with its layered shoulder pads only accentuates his thickness. Beneath the long coat, the Troll wears a functional wool shirt with a few iconic tokens on a heavy beaded necklace. A beaded sash crosses his chest over his shirt, to support a heavy bag on his right hip. Bizarre stripping crisscrosses his heavy leather pants that serve as a sort of camoflage, though the pants are obviously made from the hide of some paracritter or other. Heavy boots with steel shin guards complete the clothing ensemble, but not the complete picture.

The large metahuman has several large tattoos on his thick tree trunk arms, and is positively festooned with an assortment of weapons. A combat shot gun is slung low under one shoulder, and he slings a massive bow and an equally massive troll modified Ruger 100 sport rifle crisscross over his back, over his coat. Large survival knives and an assortment of manacles, plastisteel restraints and other tools of the trade, are attached here and there to his person.

"It's always something you have to do..." came the higher pitched scream from inside. "Don't you walk away from me when I'm talking to you, Serik. We are not finished tal...." The yelling was cut off as the troll, apparently named Serik slammed the door shut and stalked off towards the town proper. From behind a nearby low wall, several giggles are heard, and a gaggle of children began to sneak out to follow the large man, now walking away at a brisk stride.

"That's Serik? He's huge!!!" said one boy.

"Yah, I heard he went into Warlord Mizraklamak's camp and killed 20 men and brought the Warlord himself back, dragging him by his hair... said another.

No, idiot, it was 25 men, and Serik dragged him back by his heels... a larger boy contradicted...

A fourth boy jumped up on a good sized rock and struck a pose, "I'm Serik, fear me Warlord Mizraklamak!!! The children ran off apparently reenacting the assault on the Warlord's sanctum, each demanding a chance to play the part of Serik...The group ran past some midwives who stopped and pointed after Serik, talking quietly behind their veils...Further down the street a middle-aged man walked up and quickly shook Serik's hand, his own human hand dwarfed by the massive troll's hand. The large troll seemed obviously uncomfortable by the attention....

Val's chair made its way slowly through the now crowded streets of Zhanaarka. He breathed deeply of the dusty air. There was nothing quite like arriving at a new town. The Karavan was alive for those first few days as it was at now other time. He sometimes missed settled life, but not on days like today. He nodded to several of the natives in the course of his travels. No one he truly knew, not even to the simple extent of knowing their names, but their faces were vaguely familar from visits past.

Rounding a corner, he spotted the home he had been told to look for, larger and a bit more prosperous then those around it. At the sight, his spirit fell slightly. Gursel had provided few details, but he would not have asked for help from the Asatru, be that help ever so informal, if matters were not serious. At least he would hopefully not be alone in this matter - Gursel had hinted he would be speaking with others, and Val had seen him entering the motor home of the Doctor he had spoken with so briefly.

The Kobe continued to make his way down the street until he neared the mayor's building itself, then paused, looking around for any threat or anyone he might recognize.

Within a few moments of the large troll stalking off, a small but beautiful human woman stepped down from the dirty travel trailer. There was no discernable change in the height of the trailer from the ground this time, as the woman couldn't be more than 5'1" or 5'2" at most, and maybe 5 stone tops. Dressed in a fairly traditional waist long tunic with wrist length sleeves, belted at the waist with a thick beaded leather belt, over patterned chavlar. Her backless black slippers fit comfortably and her head is covered with a white rectangular Hijab. The head scarf does little to hide the beauty contained therein, and nearby men, turn and look twice though most were able to hide their glances adequately for propriety sake. The small woman pulled out a small set of stairs, and moves to the front of the trailer. She moves from there to the nearby well, nodding almost absently to people nearby, as she encounters them, speaking quietly with a few, here and there, before returning to her task, that of making the trailer presentable once more....

People nearby watch the small woman, and often glance down the street towards the large house that dominates the skyline, such as it is, and where, a couple hundred feet away, Serik's head and shoulders stand out clearly above the gathering crowd of Karavali. Serik's head can be seen, even from here, with his large horns, to be nodding and turning, as if greeting many people he knows. It is a little odd that the Karavali should welcome a 'stranger' so warmly, even though the stop is a common one on the route, and they are there to trade knowledge, goods and services...

The wind blows once more, gusting warmly and swirling the dust across the landscape, as more and more of the Karavan takes up their positions and begin to set up for their stay...the day is still early and there is trading to do.....

Kraft turned his head away from the furnace blast of heat, sweat breaking out across his brow. But, just as usually, he does nothing to alleviate the warmth; He definatly does not unbutton any of that fancy suit. A small handkerchef it patted along his brow, before the Doctor adjusts his monocle and sets out amongst the tents of Karavan. There is no meandering in his steps, no hesitation as to his purpose. He is heading straight for the largest 'habitat' in Zhanaarka - the mayor's house.

. o O (Thank heavens for the airships. Save for their beshadowed grace, even my chrome would be overheating in this warmth!) O o .

Nalan joined Kraft outside of the RV, still practically glowing from the Doctor's compliment. She followed suit and checked both of her shotguns, calling up a full report from the built-in smartgun system to keep her up to date. The left SPAS-22 was in need of some maintenance, though the gun's control system would compensate until she had time to crack it open. Actually... Nalan frowned as she thought about the trip to Zhanaarka. She'd had plenty of time on the way to get to it, but she hadn't. What was it about the sudden change to relative luxury that made her so lazy? Perhaps taking the Doctor up on his offer for housing wasn't such a good idea after all. Maybe it was the hard, unforgiving lifestyle that had driven her to succeed and excel. What if she started going soft?

She shook her head, determined not to let that happen. She would keep her eyes open and watch the Doctor's back. This was his job, but she was there to help him if he needed it. In the meantime however... "So- so yeah, I kinda picked up how to fly a helicopter. And, as it turns out, I also sorta came by a helicopter- not that the two aren't related! Actually they are, I mean I didn't just randomly learn how to operate a- a... I mean, I'm just saying, that'd be weird, and it's not how it happened, that's all..." Even after all the time she'd spent in near proximity to the Doctor, she still had cause to kick herself mentally for the less than collected manner in which she addressed the man. "But yeah, I have a chopper so if you ever need one, with a pilot too, you can... tell me? If you want... I mean. It's up to you."

As Ace dropped gracefully from the RV, the heat wave sapped the air from her lungs. Their entire journey, the only time Ace had left the comforts of the vehicle was her sparse naked sunbathing trips. The satellite dish on the roof made an excellent reflector for those hard to reach spots. The rest of her time was spent with the air conditioner on full blast while she relaxed in her bed. Luckily her clothing, and lack of clothing, helped to mitigate the heat immensely. Her open midriff and extremely low cut top allowed the evaporating sweat to cool her. The parts of her that were actually covered, were protected by heat resistant fabric.

She gave a wide smirk at Nalan as she watched her stutter through another conversation with the doctor. "Wonderful. We will keep that in mind when we need somebody to go grocery shopping."

As the three made their way down the street, Ace stood out like a rose in a brier patch. The style of her clothing, along with the lack of it in some places, drew attention. This was accented by the way she sauntered. There was a heavy sway in her hips, and she walked with both hands resting on them as if she was a runway model showing off the latest fashion. Though this gave her the air of a stuck up princess, the true reason behind it was much more deadly. The position of her hands combined with the hip sway, kept her fingers withing a hairs grasp of her pistol handles. Ace had learned at a young age, there were two type of people in a gun fight. The quick, and the dead.

"No doubt, the helicopter was donated?" Begins The Doctor, with another quiet smile for his 'bunk mate' - in the less carnal sense. And then he admonishes Ace in the next breath, speaking as he walks through the dusty stalls. "Now, now. Air superiority is a priceless commodity to possess in our unique situation. Many a nation has fallen not by trembled hands that clasped guns, but by stalwart pilots able to strike from any direction. To have both the means and the ends of gaining such an advantage for ourselves is.." Those eye shift back to Nalan, the smile remaining the same "... Exhilirating."

The trio are definatly not your average Karavanli, and do tend to stick out a bit - besides Nalan. Ace, with her bared flesh and pendulem hips, Doctor Theus with his failure to acknowledge the heat at all beyond a few dappered pats of a hankerchef along his face; Like one might on a warm east coast beach, rather than beneath the soul crushing fires of a desert's full day. Despite the rather fancy suit, whose fine tailoring occasionally trails back with a dust filled gust. Were one to once again place them upon a hollywood poster, it'd practically make a westen (eastern?) all by itself:

The Doc, The Ace, and The Pilot vs The Seven Sandy Seas of Asia

Of course, this little trio is about to become a pentro, considering that everyone seems to be heading for the same building.

There is a wall and a gate to the mansion, but the gates are open. Inside, a courtyard with a small path, a fountain that is not running, and a garden. Green vines snake and wind their way up the yellowed walls and lattices. The door is painted what was surely once a vibrant green, though the unrelenting dust has faded it. There is a balcony above, made from the same sandy clay as the walls, and the roof is capped with reddish-brown shingles, neatly arranged. The air is slightly cooler here, possibly an effect of the fountain pool, and an edge of moisture glints through the suffocating desert dust that swirls in the baked air .

'Donated'? Nalan considered explaining to the Doctor that she stole it, but then she realized that's probably what he meant, so she kept her mouth closed. Instead she merely nodded happily as the Doctor explained to Ace the benefit of having air support. "Plus," she added once he had stopped, "I kinda added a minigun to it, so... it's not like I could really use it to go shopping anyway. Oh, and not much cargo space." She stopped there, not continuing to point out that most shopping places lacked a helipad.

Ace decides that it isn't worth the time to explain her insult to the naive Nalan. She had agreed to bury the hatchet, and there was no use fanning the fires of another confrontation. The doc would probably kick her out of the RV for killing the little brat.

The hostile thoughts were stolen away when Ace's eyes fell on the fountain pool. It had been a good while since she had partaken of an actual bath. She sat herself down on the edge of the fountain. She removed her gloves and placed them in her lap, before sliding her cupped hands into the cool waters. She lavished in the sensation as she brought her hands up and dosed her face with a spray of the much missed liquid. A sigh of contentment escaped her lips. She turned her attention to her hair next, her hat joining the gloves in her lap.

The scene could have been a commercial for a new shampoo if it wasn't for the lined coat and black leather armor adorning her. As she ran her fingers through her wet hair, she turned to the doc. "So what do we know about this job? Are we the only people inquiring? Or is there going to be competition to... eliminate?"

"Mm hmm." Begins the Doctor, being entirely noncommittal on the thought of using Nalan's helicopter for a grocery run. The middle road, after all is a marvelous place to spend time. He then pauses when Ace decides that the fountain would be a wonderful time to bathe, but his eyes aren't on the gun bunny getting herself all splashed up - nor on the gear grrl and her faux pas. Instead, his gaze is on the mayor's mansion itself, as he taps his lip in thought.

"I suppose we'll know about this particular predictament when we ask. Things are done in such a different fashion on this side of the world... " He moues for a moment, removing his occular monocle to clean it upon the hem of his jacket as he continues. "Well, it's certainly a thought that there might be competetion in regards to the task; I can't be the only 'tribeless' person traveling with Karavan, after all, and the Archivist wasn't at all shy about letting me know of the Yassa's indirect wishes. But elimination? Might be terribly messy, and uncivil..."

. o O (Not that it's a bad idea.) O o .

"Nalan, what're you thoughts on this? Of the three of us, you would seem to be the expert on Karavanli matters. How does one approach a mayor with such a delicate subject? Tally forth or tally about?"

"Uh-uh," Nalan shook her head adamantly, ignoring Ace's rather unprofessional behavior for now. Instead of chiding her on not being able to take the heat without playing in a fountain like a child, she turned to the Doctor, happy to be able to help. "If the problem of a yabanci is important enough to make the archivist for the Alti Ok tribe search for a way around the limitations of the yassa to be able to intervene... the last thing you want to do is anything that might come across as wasting this man's time."

A half second later, she realized what she said and immediately backpedaled. "Not that anything an esteemed Doctor such as yourself says or does could possibly be perceived as a waste of time, I just meant in general! As a... general principle... rule of thumb, that sort of thing. In- in fact, it probably doesn't even matter; I'm sure he'll be happy to see you regardless of... of how you... act." Nalan kept her eyes purposefully averted from the Doctor, which, in this case, meant watching Ace faff about in the water. She considered mentioning that most fountains like this were filled with recycled water, not considered safe for drinking or bathing, but she just watched with amusement as a slight smirk turned into a lopsided grin.

By the time Ace had stood and replaced her hat and gloves, the hungering heat had already sapped away the water from her face and hair. She crossed her legs and leaned back, using the grip of her hands on the fountain to keep her from falling back into the water. The spur on her boot tapped against the clay as she rocked it back and forth impatiently. "Well if that is the case, let's not waste any time."

Ace's eyes fell on Nalan as she decided to poke the bear one more time. The sarcasm that drips from her tone is so heavy that even Nalan couldn't mistake it."We will let the good doctor lead the way, so that mayhaps his magnificent radiance will wash over the proceedings. Or would you prefer to go ahead of him? I am sure we can find some flower petals in the market for you to throw before his feet."

Nalan nods quickly in agreement, glad that Ace was finally showing the Doctor the respect he deserved. "Normally... yes, a more official welcoming ceremony might be in order, but... I think we're in too much of a hurry here, right? I mean, you were talking about competition, I thought..." She glanced from Ace to the Doctor and back again for confirmation. "Maybe next time," she offered with a shrug.

"Well, now, Ace. I hadn't thought of you as the affectionate type." Begins the Doctor, chuckling softly as she gives 'suggestions' to Nalan, before he continues. "My dear, what flowery path could compare to the joy of your wonderous company?" He asks, holding out an arm for Nalan - like walking through a country park rather than a desert villa's rich garden. No need to make her feel silly, when she may just be the lynch pin in getting this Mayor's cooperation - and nuyen. She, after all, was a Karavanli! "Either way, let's sally forth. Nuyen to earn, lives to better, and troubles to end."

. o O (No back alleys, no bars, no slums outside the brawl arenas? Just walk in and ask? How bizaare!) O o .

As an after thought, an arm is also extended for Ace; "Madame?" After all, if you're going to impress a mayor at a first meeting, why not do it right?

Ace had no desire to be pranced about like some trophy wife. However, she knew the thought of her on the doctors arm would irk Nalan, so things balanced out. She made her way towards the doc with her trademark sway. Instead of taking the arm she knew he had extended for her, she instead slid her arm into the place he had meant for Nalan. Was it petty? Sure. Did she care? Not one bit.

She rested a head on his shoulder and spoke in a soft tone that was quite unlike her usual one. "Shall we?"

Nalan's eyes practically sparkled as she gaped at the offered arm, not believing the turn of events. However, in her hesitation, Ace decided to take the initiative, and the moment was lost. No... it was stolen from her.

With barely enough time to close her mouth, Nalan stalked off towards the mayor's house. Two metal fists clenched into dense balls of seething anger, but then she turned around, a forced smile on her lips. "You make a pretty convincing concubine," she leveled at Ace, her voice wavering from sickly sweet to barely holding back tears. "Let's just hope the staff enjoys your company when we drop you off at the servants' quarters so we can get to work." The backhanded remark would have had much more sting if it hadn't been delivered while Nalan was on the verge of breaking down.

Ace smiled at Nalan's response. The words fell short of any response, it was too obvious that the girl was forcing them out to save face. Ace knew that she had won that little bout If she had been a better person Ace might have felt a bit of remorse. However, she knew that the girl's obsession and worship of the doctor was unhealthy. Ace reassured herself that she was doing the poor girl a favor. Plus, Nalan had started it.

Her mission accomplished, Ace released her grip on the doctor's arm. She had no desire to rub things in Nalan's face after all. This wasn't about some kind of malice towards the girl. Ace just wanted her to show some backbone and stop being a love sick puppy.