Tongues

Reaping 26, 594 CY
Muhar

We heard voices in the hallway beyond the room we were in. They sounded human, or at least more human than anything we’d heard so far. Keth and I opted to hide while Holli sat in the middle of the room, the remnants of our previous victory scattered about her. Problem was, the voices in the hall were taking an awful long time to decide whether or not to come in— we had to do some coaxing. A pair of human males opened the doors and started a conversation with Holli, then one went to take water from that well we’d found earlier. After much frantic waving on my part, one of the humans finally figured out Holli wasn’t alone and introduced himself to us. Pyotr, some sort of gypsy sorcerer, and his cat have been betrayed by some traveling companion and wound up here in the deserts of Har’akir. The cat, Volos it’s called, stares at me and makes me very nervous. Or it has, at least, ever since I decided to pop that silver tongue in my mouth it’s stared at me. I would blame the halfling in me, but I was only raised by them. Of course, the darn thing is stuck in there now, fused to my own tongue, so now I have a silver-looking tongue.

The other human Albus (Keth followed him around during our chat with Pyotr) returned with some potable water and some useful advice about our mummy rot situation. There is a small town called Muhar which has a powerful priestess that could heal us. Albus doesn’t apparently get along with the priestess and opted not to join us— instead, he turned into a big white bird and flew away. Pyotr seemed eager to travel with us— he’s on a quest of his own, which apparently is not in as desperate need of being finished quickly. We walked all night, and other than finding some very dry zombies (or ashen husks, as they are called), we arrived at Muhar.

The small tent town surrounded an oasis (which we had been warned not to help ourselves to, as it’s considered quite rude) and asked to see their priestess. Now, we had always joked with Janet about the duties of her holy order (or at least her self-appointed duties), but when this priestess stood up naked out of a pile of pillows and human males, I was struck speechless.

Unfortunately, we had come to realize I was the only one that spoke her language “Akiri” and I had to translate for my companions. I was trying my best, but Pyotr kept asking me what she said, so I finally snapped and told him she wanted him to remove his pants. My glee at his immediate blushing and cessation of questions became my own embarrassment a moment later when the priestess Snefru agreed with me that he should do that (for the record, he kept them on). Only then did I realize that the silver tongue I was stuck with translated not only what I was hearing, but what I was saying as well. Oh, and when Pyotr said he wished he had such a useful item was when Volos started staring at me.

As for the mummy rot, the Snefru agreed that we could be cured, but she lacked an item that would remove the curse, something called the Chalice of Neferti. The chalice, of course, is a two-day journey across the desert to the Temple of Neferti in the shadow of the Pharaoh’s Rest. Oh, and it seems that we must avoid someone called Anktepot at all costs, as his shadow is deadly.

We’ve been given all manner of hospitality by the people of Muhar. I would give up on the quest myself, if Keth did not have the same curse, as I feel that my time is drawing to a close. It’s hard to believe that a week ago, I was traveling with Janet, Elizair and Fash to Exag….