The PCs are mercenaries hired to protect the Benabi, a tribe of nomadic goat-hearders, on their annual southern migration through the desert. A sandstorm leaves them lost and short of equipment and they end up wandering into hostile territory, where they have to flee for their lives. Desparate and exhausted, they arrive at the river Shanuma, where they recieve a vision and the real identity of the Benabi becomes apparent. The Benabi are actually Shifters who have escaped persecution for millennia by adopting a simple lifestyle and feigning ignorance.
This migration will be their last. It is the fabled Great Migration that has been prophesied for centuries, where the tribe leaves this plane to seek the respite of the void. With renewed strength and powerful new artifacts the party takes up the true cause of the Benabi and vows to see them home. A mighty battle takes place when their enemies catch up to them just as they're about to phaze out. Will the tribe make it home?
MAKING CONTACT
PCs travel overland to investigate a lucrative offer to assist nomadic
goat-herders with their annual migration. How hard could it be? They go to the
appointed place, a huge tent just outside of town which serves as the Benabi's
Council Lodge and wait to be interviewed. Encounters include rival prospectors,
Benabi warriors, children, wierd pets, bugs, nobles, the elderly, and goats.
Lots of goats.
Depending on whether or not they make fools of themselves,
they may be asked to come back the next day, but no sooner. This gives them a
chance to check out the local scene, especially the night life... Bwaaa haa ha!
TRIBAL COUNCIL
When and if they are invited back, the party appears to the Council of Elders. They are treated with the utmost respect but are ever so gingerly pried for clues to their character. Racial and occupational tensions are adressed. Eventualy the party is told of the problems between the tribe and the farmers in the south as well as the inherant dangers of the road. In the past, the Benabi had a fair trade with the farmers who owned the land where the flocks would graze. In exchange for grazing, the goats left their dung to fertilze the land. It was an arrangement that needed no words. Everyone was happy.
Now, as the land becomes more densely populated, it's being used up. The Benabi are rapidly losing their place in society andt he farmers are becoming cold and even hostile to the tribe because they don't want to look bad in the eyes of the local council, who seem to have decided it's time for the Benabi to become "civilized" or go somewhere else. Of particular interest i s the increasing presence of Sand Blasters in the west.
There is one stubborn old chieftain who still is not convinced of the party's ability, so he demands ritual tests of skill. Consensus is by silence, and none block, so the challenge begins at dawn the next day. Since it's bad luck, nobody will tell the party about any of the tests, but we know what happens, don't we? They march into the gladitorial pit (or the Benabi equivilant) with force shields which permit no lasting harm and take on the baddest of the Benabi. They are also subjected to such strange tests as trivia, art, diplomacy and etiqette. Rope mastery, desert survival subterfuge and spirituality are the kinds of things the tribe wants to see. Most importantly they want to know if the party can adapt.
The Council must sleep on it's decision, so Our Heros are given another opportunity to roam around town, perhaps looking up the faces they met the last time around. Somewhere along the line they meet a Mysterious Stranger who warns them not to take the mission and then disappears. Can you say plot point? You can do anything with this. It could be rival mercs who got turned down or beaten to the punch, It could be treacherous Benabi... it could be nothing more than a way to freak the players out and keep them in line "Hey, don't get cocky, you remember what that wierd guy said back in town, don't you?"
At first, the goats appear normal; stubby-legged, smelly and always eating. They "baa" and bleat in contentment to each other constantly, which drives the PCs crazy (-1 Perception), wander into places they shouldn't be, leaving trails of warm, steaming droppings for the PCs to step in and constantly chew on anything left at goat-level. They seem to think that the PCs knapsacks are particlarly tasty (whoops! Are you missing something by chance?).As time goes on, however, the PCs begin to notice intelligent, collective behavior in them. They seem to have a hirearchy of their own, with the goats of individual owners knowing their "flockmates" from the others and answering to very specific whistles and hand signals.
Moonlight Arabesque
Shadowpunk: 6000
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