Author: Ghost
Title: A bad day to be a foreigner in the rinth
Date: 2007-11-30 00:54:37
Type: Logs
Synopsis: A recently arrived southsider has a rough night in the rinthi bar
Title: A bad day to be a foreigner in the rinth
Date: 2007-11-30 00:54:37
Type: Logs
Synopsis: A recently arrived southsider has a rough night in the rinthi bar
A Cramped, Dingy Bar [EWU]
Were it not for the sheer overpowering vileness of the air outside,
this small and tightly-cramped room would scarcely seem a breath of
freshness at all. Thick, acrid smoke intermingles with the smell of
unwashed bodies, vomit, cheap booze, and ancient decay in the limited
confines of this room, creating a unique amalgam of foulness that even the
rough sensibilities of a dwarf would quail at. The walls of the room are
short and the roof is relatively low, giving one an acute claustrophobic
feeling that mirrors the feel of the surrounding alleyways with merciless
precision. A few crates are stacked here and there in a seemingly haphazard
array. Whatever their intended purpose, it appears as though patrons have
begun using them as seats in lieu of squatting on the ale-damp floor. The
center of the room draws your attention once your eyes have adjusted to the
change in lighting and reveals a strange stoneworked depression, roughly
three cords deep and ten cords across. Broken stonework sculptures surround
the edges of the depression in a seeming mockery of a gleeful dance.
Several battered crates with a thick slab of pure obsidian draped across
them seem to serve as a makeshift bar in a corner of the room. An equally
battered wooden door is situated just behind it.
Just beside the bar, a loosely hanging rope ladder disappears up into a
jagged hole in the ceiling of the room.
A ladder-backed bone chair is here standing idly near the wall.
A multi-ringed dartboard hangs on a wall here.
A message board is propped up against a wall.
The stoic, brown-skinned mul is standing here.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak is standing here.
- he is carrying a filthy, crude hide bag.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man is standing here.
The thick-set, sideburned bartender is here cleaning out mugs with a rag.
The long-haired, scar faced man stands by the bar, arms over his chest.
The lanky, dreadlocked man, is hanging out here lazily against the wall.
The muscular, hatchet-faced man stands here by the door.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak hands over an empty bag.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak says to the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"Get better stuff for da next time."
The grey-skinned, orange haired man says to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"There is no better stuff..."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak puts his string of cocoons into his filthy, crude hide bag.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak puts his pair of footpads into his filthy, crude hide bag.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak asks the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"If I's walk you's over dere an' show you's sumfin useful, what do I's get from you?"
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak puts his shard of sharp-edged obsidian into his filthy, crude hide bag.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man says to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"A surprised look. A very surprised look."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak asks the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"A finger? Three? Maybe you's eye?"
The grey-skinned, orange haired man says to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"I want to keep my fingers... and my eye..."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak says to the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"Den figure out what you's doin wrong an' fuckin fix it."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak says to the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"Every other fucker in da alleys know how to scrounge for valuable shit."
The stoic, brown-skinned mul exhales lightly, looking out into the alley.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak asks the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"You's tryin to say you's da stupidest motherfucker walkin dem alleys? Is dat it?"
The grey-skinned, orange haired man says to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"I only been in the alley for a half-a-month... less than that..."
The grey-skinned, orange haired man says to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"only like six weeks actually."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak asks the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"You's think you's gonna survive da next half month bein worthless?"
Lifting his chin to the grey-skinned, orange haired man, the stoic, brown-skinned mul says to the tall figure in a dark
hooded cloak, in southern-accented sirihish:
"I'd just throw him in the well."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak asks the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"What da fuck did you's do southside for coin?"
The stoic, brown-skinned mul shrugs, and folds his arms leaning on a sturdy old bar.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man says to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"Worked at the butcher shop some, but I only started workin' really."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak asks, in sirihish:
"Afore what?"
Kicking a long, low and cracked clay table, the stoic, brown-skinned mul says to the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in
southern-accented sirihish:
"Get out of my table."
The grey-skinned, orange haired man nervously pushes off the tabletop, moving away.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man stands up from a long, low and cracked clay table.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man asks the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"Afore?"
Taking the grey-skinned, orange haired man's seat, the stoic, brown-skinned mul sits at a
long, low and cracked clay table.
Speaking clearly, the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak asks the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in
sirihish:
"Afore what?"
The stoic, brown-skinned mul scratches his head.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak asks, in sirihish:
"Afore he figure out you's ain' know shit about shit an' you's ain' worth da coin he payin you's?"
The stoic, brown-skinned mul shuffles a deck of Kruth cards.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man says to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"I wasn't fired..."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak asks the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"Den why ain' you's dere now?"
The stoic, brown-skinned mul deals himself a Kruth card.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man says to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"'cause my best friend ran away here, so I did too."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak asks, in sirihish:
"You's best friend?"
The stoic, brown-skinned mul flips his Kruth card: the Sun of Kings over in his hand looking at it.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak asks, in sirihish:
"An' who dat?"
The stoic, brown-skinned mul puts his deck of Kruth cards into his leather backpack.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak asks, in sirihish:
"Some stupid whore?"
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak looks at the grey-skinned, orange haired man with open contempt.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man says to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"An elf. I think he's dead now."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak says to the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"You's fuckin followed an' elf.... to da alleys."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak shakes his head at the grey-skinned, orange haired man.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man says to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"I've never really been with humans, as friends..."
The stoic, brown-skinned mul gets his deck of Kruth cards from his leather backpack.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak's features soften.
Softly, the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak says to the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in
sirihish:
"I... I's never really had no friends either..."
The stoic, brown-skinned mul arches a smooth brow to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, flipping through his deck of
Kruth cards slowly.
Nodding swiftly, his eyes widening a bit, the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak asks the grey-skinned,
orange haired man, in sirihish:
"You's wanna maybe... maybe be my's friend?"
The stoic, brown-skinned mul smirks.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man says to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"Your joking. I ain't that dumb."
The stoic, brown-skinned mul shuffles a deck of Kruth cards.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak says to the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"No no... I's serious."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak says to the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"Maybe we's can share a drink an' some spice or sumfin."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak says to the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"Talk about dem old times an' shit... maybe hold hands or sumfin."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak reaches a hand towards the grey-skinned, orange haired man's
hand.
The stoic, brown-skinned mul shuffles a deck of Kruth cards.
The pallid, dark-curled young man chuckles, watching the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak and the grey-skinned, orange
haired man.
Pretending to not notice his hand, the grey-skinned, orange haired man says to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in
sirihish:
"I've never done spice..."
The stoic, brown-skinned mul turns his deck of Kruth cards over curiously, looking through the
cards.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak subdues the grey-skinned, orange haired man.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man exclaims, in sirihish:
"Gah!"
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak grabs the grey-skinned, orange haired man's hand with a
alarmingly fast motion.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man says to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"I see you like to be friendly..."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak drags the grey-skinned, orange haired man to the far side of the
bar.
Nodding a few times, the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak says to the grey-skinned, orange haired
man, in sirihish:
"Yeah... I's good like dat."
The stoic, brown-skinned mul deals himself a Kruth card.
The stoic, brown-skinned mul deals a Kruth card: the Water of Death to you.
Holding him hand, the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak says to the grey-skinned, orange haired man,
in sirihish:
"What I's really like doin is rememberin all da good time's I's had wif my's friends....
cause when dey all dead an' gone, dat really all dat left."
Nodding amiably, the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak says to the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in
sirihish:
"Like you's remember dat one time when you's an' me's was talkin...."
The grey-skinned, orange haired man asks the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"Which time?"
The grey-skinned, orange haired man asks the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"When you sold my corpse...?"
Shaking his head quickly, his hollow voice sounding amiable, the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak
says to the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"No no no.... dat time when you's sayin about all da shit dat can't be found in dat
market..."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak begins to squeeze the grey-skinned, orange haired man's hand.
Wincing slightly, the grey-skinned, orange haired man says to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak,
in sirihish:
"Yeah..."
Increasing the pressure of his grip, the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak asks the grey-skinned,
orange haired man, in sirihish:
"An' den I's was sayin how I's -know- dere good stuff dere, but you's was jus' too stupid
to find it's?"
The grey-skinned, orange haired man nods nervously to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak.
His voice amiable, the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak says to the grey-skinned, orange haired man,
in sirihish:
"An' you's start babblin all dis shit about how you's used to be a butcher an' how you's
leave you's pleasant little....."
The grey-skinned, orange haired man attentivly listens to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak.
The stoic, brown-skinned mul looks from his deck of Kruth cards to you with little
understanding.
Hatred slowly seeping into his voice, the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak says to the grey-skinned,
orange haired man, in sirihish:
"insignificant worthless an' pathetic little existence to come here an' play in dem
motherfuckin alleys....."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak begins to crush the grey-skinned, orange haired man's hand with
impossible strength.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man exclaims to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"Think it was a mistake- GAH!"
The grey-skinned, orange haired man struggles in vain against the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man squirms horribly.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man struggles in vain against the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak.
The stoic, brown-skinned mul asks the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in southern-accented
sirihish:
"Want me to punch out his teeth?"
The stoic, brown-skinned mul looks up from his cards, tracing his fingers over each one with
great care.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak says to the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"An' den you's continue on - cause you's KNOW I fuckin really care about dat kind of
shit... about how you's fuckin little elf friend dead now's....."
The grey-skinned, orange haired man continues to squirm, no longer listening but concentrating
on the pain.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man struggles in vain against the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak.
The morbid sound of snapping bones fills in an odd moment of silence within the bar as the
tall figure in a dark hooded cloak continues to crush the grey-skinned, orange haired man's hand.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man screams!
His eyes flaring a bright red as he hisses his words out, the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak
exclaims to the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"Find... me... sumfin... fuckin... USEFUL!"
The stoic, brown-skinned mul glances at the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, a few figures in the
bar glancing uncomfortably but daring not speak.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak snaps his hand to the side, breaking the grey-skinned, orange
haired man's wrist.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak grabs the grey-skinned, orange haired man's chest with his other
hand and shoves him across the room.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak roughly shoves the grey-skinned, orange haired man west.
To the west is Twisting Alleyway.
[Near]
The grey-skinned, orange haired man is reclining here.
A low, crumbled stone wall sits here, its front occupied by faded bas-relief carvings.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak walks over to a long, low and cracked clay table.
Throwing his hands up in a mocking fashion, the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak exclaims, in sirihish:
"I decide it might be fun to come to da alleys! My's friend do it so I's come along for
da adventure!"
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak shakes his head in disgust.
The stoic, brown-skinned mul smirks to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak.
The pallid, dark-curled young man places your Kruth card: the Stone of Deceit over a triangular stone table.
The stoic, brown-skinned mul tilts his head taking the card.
You give your Kruth card: the Sun of Life to the
stoic, brown-skinned mul.
The stoic, brown-skinned mul puts his deck of Kruth cards onto a long, low and cracked clay
table.
Holding the picture up to his eyes, the stoic, brown-skinned mul looks at his Kruth card: the
Sun of Life.
You give your Kruth card: the Wind of Deceit to the
stoic, brown-skinned mul.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak looks between the stoic, brown-skinned mul and you.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak asks, in sirihish:
"What you's two playin?"
Were it not for the sheer overpowering vileness of the air outside,
this small and tightly-cramped room would scarcely seem a breath of
freshness at all. Thick, acrid smoke intermingles with the smell of
unwashed bodies, vomit, cheap booze, and ancient decay in the limited
confines of this room, creating a unique amalgam of foulness that even the
rough sensibilities of a dwarf would quail at. The walls of the room are
short and the roof is relatively low, giving one an acute claustrophobic
feeling that mirrors the feel of the surrounding alleyways with merciless
precision. A few crates are stacked here and there in a seemingly haphazard
array. Whatever their intended purpose, it appears as though patrons have
begun using them as seats in lieu of squatting on the ale-damp floor. The
center of the room draws your attention once your eyes have adjusted to the
change in lighting and reveals a strange stoneworked depression, roughly
three cords deep and ten cords across. Broken stonework sculptures surround
the edges of the depression in a seeming mockery of a gleeful dance.
Several battered crates with a thick slab of pure obsidian draped across
them seem to serve as a makeshift bar in a corner of the room. An equally
battered wooden door is situated just behind it.
Just beside the bar, a loosely hanging rope ladder disappears up into a
jagged hole in the ceiling of the room.
A ladder-backed bone chair is here standing idly near the wall.
A multi-ringed dartboard hangs on a wall here.
A message board is propped up against a wall.
The stoic, brown-skinned mul is standing here.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak is standing here.
- he is carrying a filthy, crude hide bag.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man is standing here.
The thick-set, sideburned bartender is here cleaning out mugs with a rag.
The long-haired, scar faced man stands by the bar, arms over his chest.
The lanky, dreadlocked man, is hanging out here lazily against the wall.
The muscular, hatchet-faced man stands here by the door.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak hands over an empty bag.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak says to the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"Get better stuff for da next time."
The grey-skinned, orange haired man says to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"There is no better stuff..."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak puts his string of cocoons into his filthy, crude hide bag.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak puts his pair of footpads into his filthy, crude hide bag.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak asks the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"If I's walk you's over dere an' show you's sumfin useful, what do I's get from you?"
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak puts his shard of sharp-edged obsidian into his filthy, crude hide bag.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man says to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"A surprised look. A very surprised look."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak asks the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"A finger? Three? Maybe you's eye?"
The grey-skinned, orange haired man says to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"I want to keep my fingers... and my eye..."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak says to the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"Den figure out what you's doin wrong an' fuckin fix it."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak says to the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"Every other fucker in da alleys know how to scrounge for valuable shit."
The stoic, brown-skinned mul exhales lightly, looking out into the alley.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak asks the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"You's tryin to say you's da stupidest motherfucker walkin dem alleys? Is dat it?"
The grey-skinned, orange haired man says to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"I only been in the alley for a half-a-month... less than that..."
The grey-skinned, orange haired man says to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"only like six weeks actually."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak asks the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"You's think you's gonna survive da next half month bein worthless?"
Lifting his chin to the grey-skinned, orange haired man, the stoic, brown-skinned mul says to the tall figure in a dark
hooded cloak, in southern-accented sirihish:
"I'd just throw him in the well."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak asks the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"What da fuck did you's do southside for coin?"
The stoic, brown-skinned mul shrugs, and folds his arms leaning on a sturdy old bar.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man says to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"Worked at the butcher shop some, but I only started workin' really."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak asks, in sirihish:
"Afore what?"
Kicking a long, low and cracked clay table, the stoic, brown-skinned mul says to the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in
southern-accented sirihish:
"Get out of my table."
The grey-skinned, orange haired man nervously pushes off the tabletop, moving away.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man stands up from a long, low and cracked clay table.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man asks the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"Afore?"
Taking the grey-skinned, orange haired man's seat, the stoic, brown-skinned mul sits at a
long, low and cracked clay table.
Speaking clearly, the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak asks the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in
sirihish:
"Afore what?"
The stoic, brown-skinned mul scratches his head.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak asks, in sirihish:
"Afore he figure out you's ain' know shit about shit an' you's ain' worth da coin he payin you's?"
The stoic, brown-skinned mul shuffles a deck of Kruth cards.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man says to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"I wasn't fired..."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak asks the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"Den why ain' you's dere now?"
The stoic, brown-skinned mul deals himself a Kruth card.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man says to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"'cause my best friend ran away here, so I did too."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak asks, in sirihish:
"You's best friend?"
The stoic, brown-skinned mul flips his Kruth card: the Sun of Kings over in his hand looking at it.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak asks, in sirihish:
"An' who dat?"
The stoic, brown-skinned mul puts his deck of Kruth cards into his leather backpack.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak asks, in sirihish:
"Some stupid whore?"
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak looks at the grey-skinned, orange haired man with open contempt.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man says to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"An elf. I think he's dead now."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak says to the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"You's fuckin followed an' elf.... to da alleys."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak shakes his head at the grey-skinned, orange haired man.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man says to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"I've never really been with humans, as friends..."
The stoic, brown-skinned mul gets his deck of Kruth cards from his leather backpack.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak's features soften.
Softly, the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak says to the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in
sirihish:
"I... I's never really had no friends either..."
The stoic, brown-skinned mul arches a smooth brow to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, flipping through his deck of
Kruth cards slowly.
Nodding swiftly, his eyes widening a bit, the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak asks the grey-skinned,
orange haired man, in sirihish:
"You's wanna maybe... maybe be my's friend?"
The stoic, brown-skinned mul smirks.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man says to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"Your joking. I ain't that dumb."
The stoic, brown-skinned mul shuffles a deck of Kruth cards.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak says to the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"No no... I's serious."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak says to the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"Maybe we's can share a drink an' some spice or sumfin."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak says to the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"Talk about dem old times an' shit... maybe hold hands or sumfin."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak reaches a hand towards the grey-skinned, orange haired man's
hand.
The stoic, brown-skinned mul shuffles a deck of Kruth cards.
The pallid, dark-curled young man chuckles, watching the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak and the grey-skinned, orange
haired man.
Pretending to not notice his hand, the grey-skinned, orange haired man says to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in
sirihish:
"I've never done spice..."
The stoic, brown-skinned mul turns his deck of Kruth cards over curiously, looking through the
cards.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak subdues the grey-skinned, orange haired man.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man exclaims, in sirihish:
"Gah!"
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak grabs the grey-skinned, orange haired man's hand with a
alarmingly fast motion.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man says to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"I see you like to be friendly..."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak drags the grey-skinned, orange haired man to the far side of the
bar.
Nodding a few times, the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak says to the grey-skinned, orange haired
man, in sirihish:
"Yeah... I's good like dat."
The stoic, brown-skinned mul deals himself a Kruth card.
The stoic, brown-skinned mul deals a Kruth card: the Water of Death to you.
Holding him hand, the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak says to the grey-skinned, orange haired man,
in sirihish:
"What I's really like doin is rememberin all da good time's I's had wif my's friends....
cause when dey all dead an' gone, dat really all dat left."
Nodding amiably, the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak says to the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in
sirihish:
"Like you's remember dat one time when you's an' me's was talkin...."
The grey-skinned, orange haired man asks the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"Which time?"
The grey-skinned, orange haired man asks the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"When you sold my corpse...?"
Shaking his head quickly, his hollow voice sounding amiable, the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak
says to the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"No no no.... dat time when you's sayin about all da shit dat can't be found in dat
market..."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak begins to squeeze the grey-skinned, orange haired man's hand.
Wincing slightly, the grey-skinned, orange haired man says to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak,
in sirihish:
"Yeah..."
Increasing the pressure of his grip, the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak asks the grey-skinned,
orange haired man, in sirihish:
"An' den I's was sayin how I's -know- dere good stuff dere, but you's was jus' too stupid
to find it's?"
The grey-skinned, orange haired man nods nervously to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak.
His voice amiable, the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak says to the grey-skinned, orange haired man,
in sirihish:
"An' you's start babblin all dis shit about how you's used to be a butcher an' how you's
leave you's pleasant little....."
The grey-skinned, orange haired man attentivly listens to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak.
The stoic, brown-skinned mul looks from his deck of Kruth cards to you with little
understanding.
Hatred slowly seeping into his voice, the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak says to the grey-skinned,
orange haired man, in sirihish:
"insignificant worthless an' pathetic little existence to come here an' play in dem
motherfuckin alleys....."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak begins to crush the grey-skinned, orange haired man's hand with
impossible strength.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man exclaims to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"Think it was a mistake- GAH!"
The grey-skinned, orange haired man struggles in vain against the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man squirms horribly.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man struggles in vain against the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak.
The stoic, brown-skinned mul asks the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in southern-accented
sirihish:
"Want me to punch out his teeth?"
The stoic, brown-skinned mul looks up from his cards, tracing his fingers over each one with
great care.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak says to the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"An' den you's continue on - cause you's KNOW I fuckin really care about dat kind of
shit... about how you's fuckin little elf friend dead now's....."
The grey-skinned, orange haired man continues to squirm, no longer listening but concentrating
on the pain.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man struggles in vain against the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak.
The morbid sound of snapping bones fills in an odd moment of silence within the bar as the
tall figure in a dark hooded cloak continues to crush the grey-skinned, orange haired man's hand.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man screams!
His eyes flaring a bright red as he hisses his words out, the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak
exclaims to the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"Find... me... sumfin... fuckin... USEFUL!"
The stoic, brown-skinned mul glances at the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, a few figures in the
bar glancing uncomfortably but daring not speak.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak snaps his hand to the side, breaking the grey-skinned, orange
haired man's wrist.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak grabs the grey-skinned, orange haired man's chest with his other
hand and shoves him across the room.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak roughly shoves the grey-skinned, orange haired man west.
To the west is Twisting Alleyway.
[Near]
The grey-skinned, orange haired man is reclining here.
A low, crumbled stone wall sits here, its front occupied by faded bas-relief carvings.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak walks over to a long, low and cracked clay table.
Throwing his hands up in a mocking fashion, the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak exclaims, in sirihish:
"I decide it might be fun to come to da alleys! My's friend do it so I's come along for
da adventure!"
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak shakes his head in disgust.
The stoic, brown-skinned mul smirks to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak.
The pallid, dark-curled young man places your Kruth card: the Stone of Deceit over a triangular stone table.
The stoic, brown-skinned mul tilts his head taking the card.
You give your Kruth card: the Sun of Life to the
stoic, brown-skinned mul.
The stoic, brown-skinned mul puts his deck of Kruth cards onto a long, low and cracked clay
table.
Holding the picture up to his eyes, the stoic, brown-skinned mul looks at his Kruth card: the
Sun of Life.
You give your Kruth card: the Wind of Deceit to the
stoic, brown-skinned mul.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak looks between the stoic, brown-skinned mul and you.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak asks, in sirihish:
"What you's two playin?"