Leader and Conversation
For a long moment, the man didn't notice them, so caught up in his work that he wasn't even aware of the trio’s entrance.
The warrior on their right cleared their throat loudly, causing the colossal man to become aware of their presence yet still refuse to look up from their work.
“Resushreh haresha koreshkra, Detlashra”, the man said, still oblivious to Wanderer's presence, before shuffling through some nearby documents and attempting to hand them to the man at the door.
Yet as they held their hand out, the burly human finally looked up and saw their unexpected visitors.
At the sight of a Golem standing in their hallway, carrying a writhing mass of sentient cactus, the leader flinched back violently in their chair, as a yelp of surprise escaped their throat.
Now unobscured by their posture, Wanderer could observe the man in front of them.
As they first noticed, the man was massive, even sitting down they almost reached the Golem’s height.
This height was accompanied by a thick layer of undefined muscle, smoothed by their flesh and scarred skin, yet undeniably there and often put to use.
Yet every element of their being that contributed to their imposing figure was instantly nullified as soon Wanderer saw their face.
In contrast to the rest of the man's figure, his face, which the Vessel would have expected to be hardened and scarred, or solemn and emotionless, instead defied all of their expectations.
His mouth hung open in blatant shock while a pair of dark spectacles teetered on the edge of his nose, threatening to fall off.
His dark skin was smooth and pleasant, a trait which allowed what little lamplight that filled the room to shine off the top of his bald head.
The only hair that framed their face was a pair of thin eyebrows and a short, well-kempt beard.
The warrior, Detlashra, as they had been called, cleared their throat once more, snapping the burly man in front of them out of their shock and causing them to stand quickly and bump their head on the stone ceiling.
They cringed with pain for a moment, rubbing their smooth head, before carefully addressing Detlashra.
“K-Korehaka mourshte sha Gorlesha, orkelfeh?”, he whispered, in a feeble attempt to prevent the Vessel from hearing them, “Krosheh retluksheh forah hurkoah shrehrah?”
The two quickly devolved into a heated conversation in a language the Vessel did not understand, involving what even Wanderer could tell were a number of puzzled questions from the larger human paired with unhelpful, one-word answers from Detlashra.
Eventually, the leader turned to the Golem and addressed them in a more familiar language.
“Gorelesha”, they began, trying to put on a brave face, “I weriag told you only know the ferario of the Earliag. Is frilo true?”
It took a moment for Wanderer to puzzle out what they were asking, yet eventually, they concluded that they wanted to know if Wanderer could understand the language they were using.
They began to sign the affirmative, yet stopped when their Spirit, who had been mostly silent since they resolved to enter the city, spoke up.
They warned the Golem not to mislead the man before them, and to be truthful with their limited understanding of the human language.
Wanderer froze, suddenly reflective about their own capabilities, and realised that, even with their quick learning, they knew very little of human speech.
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It was obvious in hindsight, what little they had parsed from the visions and context since then was barely enough to make out what the human was saying, yet for some reason they still thought that they knew it.
Instead of their affirmation, Wanderer signed uncertainty, hoping that they got the message across.
To their credit, the human was quite adept at interpreting the Vessel's clumsy signs, and after a quick confirmation and a few muttered words under his breath, he continued.
“I am Keshte, harere are you?”, he questioned.
Already, this whole conversation had strained Wanderer’s mind, causing them to need to both interpret what Keshte was saying and work out how to sign a reply.
Yet this most recent question stretched them to their limit, how could they possibly communicate their name with nothing but basic signs?
Desperate, they looked around the room, hoping to find something that could help communicate the summation of their identity, and to their surprise, they found it.
On the wall to their left, a large piece of paper hung covered in symbols and lines, worn and folded many times yet well cared for.
At first, the Golem did not understand what they were seeing, that is, until, a specific picture caught their eye.
It was a small drawing of the volcano in the centre of the desert, with a name in letters they could not read printed above it.
In an instant, they began to recognise more landmarks, the sea of grass they had passed through, the great city they had seen in the distance, even the graveyard had its own little point on the sheet.
It was now that the realisation came upon them, that what Wanderer was looking at was a map, a summarisation of the entirety of the desert.
Intrigued, they ran up to the guide and stared at it fascinatedly until they belatedly realised that perhaps their inspection should wait until after the conversation was done.
Yet they saw their opportunity to communicate their name, and they hurriedly began to sign toward the map.
“Your narario is merure?”, Keshte questioned, confused.
Wanderer vigorously disagreed, then, instead of just pointing at the map, acted out a figure walking upon it with their hands.
The leader took a moment to puzzle over this, before attempting their second guess.
“Walker, karero?” they asked again, and again received a negative answer.
The Golem repeated the motion once again, this time emphasising the different places they had been to.
“Is Traveller your narario”, Keshte questioned one final time.
The moniker was not a perfect translation, yet the Vessel realised they would get no better answer out of the human, and decided it was close enough.
Everyone in the room, (including Emio, who had snuck off to explore a small writing desk on the right side of the room), seemed to relax a little at the decipherment, the whole process becoming tedious for all involved.
“I arserlio there is only one areo merkare to ask, all the Orshraka in this carkare are against any Orshraka being held as a keraragio”, Keshte began, “Do you support us, or are you rioke enemy”.
Wanderer became suddenly very aware of the warrior to their right as the tension in the room skyrocketed, going from awkward to dangerous in a fraction of a second.
Internal panic began to overtake them with every moment they required to work out what the man meant, worried that Detlashra would think their hesitation suspicious and take matters into their own hands or that Emio would decide to try and act first.
Yet their worry only lasted as long as it took them to decipher the word keraragio, as they realised that it meant slave.
Wanderer conveyed vigorous signs of agreement as they realised that all the tension was due to the fear that the Vessel would be against the very thing that had led them to these people, their want to help free others from slavery.
Despite their wholehearted agreement, the two human’s suspicions had only slightly eased.
Keshte sat back down and thought for a moment, bald head creasing in thought, before they seemed to come up with an idea and stood back up.
They rifled around in a draw at their desk for a moment, before pulling up a map much like the one on the wall.
However, instead of depicting the whole desert, it seemed to show only the city they were in.
Little marks and lines, drawn in red, were depicted all over the map, all branching from a singular point near one of the walls.
After Keshte deemed that Wanderer had enough time to inspect the map, he called Detlashra over and spoke a few words to him that the Vessel didn't understand.
After receiving a firm nod in confirmation, the leader spoke up addressing the Golem.
“Traveller”, he began, “if you do warere to help us, you must prove your carliogio”.
“How would you and your friend like to do us a feaero?”