Original Submissions
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Shadow Artist by Ourla
Added on Sep 16, 2007There is art in the unseen execution of the perfect mark.
Kurac takes it to the Tooth (prequel to A Bardic Prankster Takes on Kurac) by Tarx
Added on Sep 6, 2007As it happens, there was more that occured at the Tembo's Tooth at that Kuraci party...from a different perspective!
"The Tembo's Tooth" - Tavern [EWD Quit]
Smooth, sanded cylini planks have been laid across the floor of this
cramped room, their polished surface flickering in the lights of the candles. Dark stains splatter the wooden floor at odd intervals, disrupting the otherwise smooth contour of the wood with slight warps and bends. A curved bar, formed from what appears to have once been highly polished agafari wood extends from the [northern wall. Spaced around it are several bare, ascetic wooden barstools. A sturdy trapdoor has been set in the floor behind the bar. Several rows of shelves have been inset into the wall behind the bar and contain a variety of local ales and liquor. Willowy, vine-like plants drape from rounded clay bowls, the gloss of their leaves reflecting the dim
light of the candles spaced around the room. Rows of booths line the
northern and southern walls while the center of the room is occupied by
two rounded tables.
A few bleached wooden casks are here.
A couple of wooden casks are here.
A couple of dull wooden casks are here.
The Tuluk bulletin board is here propped up on a stand.
The sinewy, weather-worn man is standing here.
The onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man is sitting at a curved, agafari bar.
The inky-curled female half-giant towers near the bar here.
The thick, curly-haired man is sitting at a curved, agafari bar.
The cold eyed woman is along the wall glaring about the room.
- she is carrying a plain bag of cloth.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man is standing along the wall, watching the room.
The thick, black-haired man stands here beside an agafari table.
The pale, blond-haired young man is sitting at a compact agafari table.
The chubby, brown-haired man is standing here, looking a bit winded.
The short, barrel-chested dwarf stands here, scowling faintly.
The robust, head-shaven man stands patiently behind the bar.
The spiral-tressed, bronzed woman stands here, attentively watching the area.
The wasp-waisted brunette woman is sitting at a compact agafari table.
The spiral-scarred black woman is sitting at a curved, agafari bar.
The stocky, crooked-nose man is standing here.
The lanky, jade-eyed youth lounges at the bar.
The ancient, tremulous man sits at a far table, chatting to some youngsters.
Leaning against one wall, a curly-haired man keeps an eye on the tavern.
The black-bearded, heavyset man leans against the bar, frowning.
Sitting at a booth, the rangy, iron-haired woman converses with some hunters.
The toned, ruby-red half-giant sits cross-legged beside the bar.
Watching the commotion, the wasp-waisted brunette woman sips from her red-striped granite tankard.
The onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man raises his dark glass jug and takes a long swig, leaning on the bar.
The sinewy, weather-worn man drinks spiced-mead from his red-striped granite tankard, sending rivulets of mead down his
cheeks.
Watching the sinewy, weather-worn man, the chubby, brown-haired man shouts, in sirihish:
"One!"
The thick, blood-eyed man looks down at you.
Slamming it on the bar, the sinewy, weather-worn man discards his red-striped granite tankard.
The chubby, brown-haired man exclaims to the sinewy, weather-worn man, in sirihish:
"Run, Nahkt!"
The sinewy, weather-worn man runs east.
Her gaze passing over a curved, agafari bar, the wasp-waisted brunette woman looks at the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man.
The thick, blood-eyed man makes his way over to you and leaning towards you.
The chubby, brown-haired man chuckles as he stands near a curved, agafari bar.
The tall, scarred human chuckles, eyes flicking to the east after the dun-clad soldier.
The thick, blood-eyed man whispers to you, in sirihish:
"Sir, could I be relieved, for tonight? I'm not feelin' so well. Fumes are making me drunk, just standin'ere and my
lizard dun take too well to'et, either..."
At your table, the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man says in sirihish:
"Hope that put don' get too excited. Might jus start nippin or give chase."
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"That's one lap for Nahkt.. just finished his third drink here!"
The thick, curly-haired man looks at you.
Standing just behind him, the chubby, brown-haired man says to the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man, in sirihish:
"Only make it more interesting, Senior Agent."
The sinewy, weather-worn man has arrived from the east, weaving around the tables and other obstructions haphazardly.
The chubby, brown-haired man grins at the sinewy, weather-worn man.
Nodding slightly, gesturing vaguely with one hand, you whisper to the thick, blood-eyed man in sirihish:
"That's fine, Recruit."
The chubby, brown-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Should be bets on how far he can go..."
The sinewy, weather-worn man gets his red-striped granite tankard from a curved, agafari bar, nearly tipping it over as he
comes to a stop.
The thick, blood-eyed man nods to you, stepping outside.
The thick, blood-eyed man has departed from the
Gulping greedily, the sinewy, weather-worn man drinks spiced-mead from his red-striped granite tankard.
The thick, curly-haired man chortles as he watches as the sinewy, weather-worn man careens through the crowds.
The chubby, brown-haired man exclaims, in sirihish:
"Don't spill too much!"
Dropping it carelessly, the sinewy, weather-worn man discards his red-striped granite tankard.
The chubby, brown-haired man shouts, in sirihish:
"Coming back!"
Bowling over a hapless patron, the sinewy, weather-worn man runs east.
At your table, the spiral-scarred black woman says in sirihish, with a smile to the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man, raising
her voice above the din:
"It's always an honor to meet the Kadians. My name is Tsenna, apprentice bard of Elkinhym and aide to Chosen Lady Madelena Dasari."
The pale, blond-haired young man licks his lips, running a hand through his light hair.
The spiral-scarred black woman turns to indicate the wasp-waisted brunette woman politely with one hand, grinning.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You are unable to reach their mind.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You are unable to reach their mind.
The sinewy, weather-worn man has arrived from the east.
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Five... and he's charging back for more!"
Grinning, the chubby, brown-haired man exclaims, in sirihish:
"Out of his way!"
At 1) a compact agafari table are:
the pale, blond-haired young man, the wasp-waisted brunette woman,
and a few empty seats.
At 2) a curved, agafari bar are:
the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man, the thick, curly-haired man,
the tall, scarred human, the spiral-scarred black woman,
and a few empty seats.
Chanting with a grin, the spiral-scarred black woman exclaims to the sinewy, weather-worn man, in sirihish:
"Drink it, drink it!"
The sinewy, weather-worn man glances down toward his red-striped granite tankard blearly and sets it down as he comes to a
stop at the bar.
Glancing over towards the spiral-scarred black woman, giving a casual nod, then following with a deeper to the
wasp-waisted brunette woman, the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man exclaims, in sirihish:
"Good ta meetya as well, Tsenna. Senior Agent Bleys, at y', woah! Lean!"
The sinewy, weather-worn man discards his red-striped granite tankard.
The sinewy, weather-worn man gets his red-striped granite tankard from a curved, agafari bar.
At a compact agafari table, the wasp-waisted brunette woman speaks, watching the sinewy, weather-worn man with an amused
smile.
In two, almost reluctant gulps, the sinewy, weather-worn man drinks spiced-mead from his red-striped granite tankard.
Turning her gaze to the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man, the wasp-waisted brunette woman inclines her head in an amiable
nod.
At your table, the spiral-scarred black woman says in sirihish, laughing as a patron stumbles into her, dashing out the
sinewy, weather-worn man way:
"Well met, Senior Agent Bleys."
The sinewy, weather-worn man staggers forward onto a stool and slips onto the ground with a thud.
At your table, you say in sirihish, lifting your voice to be heard by the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man and the
spiral-scarred black woman:
"Don't believe I've officially met either of you myself, either...may as well introduce at a Kuraci function.
Sergeant Mynkas of the Kuraci Fist."
Tipping his head forward graciously, the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man beams a warm smile to the wasp-waisted brunette
woman as his skeleton-carved ivory earring with ruby eyes dances at his right ear.
Laughing, the chubby, brown-haired man exclaims, in sirihish:
"He's out!"
The chubby, brown-haired man shouts, in sirihish:
"And Nahkt is out!"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"He going to make it back over there?"
The pale, blond-haired young man lifts his brow at the chubby, brown-haired man.
The chubby, brown-haired man shouts, in sirihish:
"Six drinks!"
Snickering as he lifts his dark glass jug, the thick, curly-haired man looks down at the sinewy, weather-worn man.
The wasp-waisted brunette woman laughs softly, watching the sinewy, weather-worn man on the floor.
Calling out abruptly, you exclaim, in sirihish:
"Get your ass up, Nahkt! You've still gotta drink some more!"
The thick, curly-haired man drinks horta wine from his dark glass jug.
The chubby, brown-haired man laughs.
At your table, the spiral-scarred black woman says in sirihish, grinning at you as she glances up from the sinewy,
weather-worn man:
"Sergeant Mynkas, well met. Your Kuracis know how to throw a fine party, I've got to hand it to you."
The chubby, brown-haired man moves over to give the sinewy, weather-worn man a push.
The chubby, brown-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Didn't even take his chance."
The thick, curly-haired man puts his dark glass jug onto a curved, agafari bar.
Her eyes glinting with amusement, the wasp-waisted brunette woman drinks spiced ginka wine from her red-striped granite
tankard.
The pale, blond-haired young man smirks, glancing at the sinewy, weather-worn man on the ground.
The sinewy, weather-worn man rolls over with a light groan.
The chubby, brown-haired man exclaims, in sirihish:
"Someone move him out of the way!"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"And we have the lovely Aja Driamusek coming next... let's hope she doesn't trip over Nahkt!"
Chuckling as he watches the sinewy, weather-worn man roll over, you say, in sirihish:
"Well, it was a good run..."
The chubby, brown-haired man shouts, in sirihish:
"Happy thoughts, Aja!"
Moving over to the sinewy, weather-worn man's prone form, the spiral-scarred black woman stands up from a curved, agafari
bar.
The chubby, brown-haired man chuckles.
The wasp-waisted brunette woman fills up a red-striped granite tankard from a dull wooden cask.
At your table, you say in sirihish, standing up from a curved, agafari bar:
"Thank you...but thank the Agents, they put it all together. Excuse me while I drag a soldier."
You stand up from a curved, agafari bar.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The chubby, brown-haired man exclaims, in sirihish:
"Out of Aja's way!"
Leaning over with a wink, the spiral-scarred black woman grasps the sinewy, weather-worn man's collar, straining to move
him out of the path to the bar.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman has arrived from the east, using the doorframe to turn herself to the bar.
The onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man sends you a telepathic message:
"Good to meet ya, Sargeant. So much noise in here, eh?"
The ethereal, fair-haired woman spins around a drunken patron as she skids to a stop by a curved, agafari bar.
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman gets her red-striped granite tankard from a curved, agafari bar.
The thick, curly-haired man looks up at the lanky, jade-eyed youth.
The tall, scarred human steps towards the sinewy, weather-worn man's prone form, pulling him towards a curved, agafari bar.
The chubby, brown-haired man says to you, in sirihish:
"Hey Sergeant...why don't you move Nakt to a booth."
An arm around the spiral-scarred black woman's shoulder, the ethereal, fair-haired woman drinks spiced-mead from her
red-striped granite tankard.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman drinks spiced-mead from her red-striped granite tankard.
The chubby, brown-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Nahkt rather."
Clapping her hands, the spiral-scarred black woman exclaims to the ethereal, fair-haired woman, in sirihish:
"Go, Aja!"
With a deep gasp of air, the ethereal, fair-haired woman discards her red-striped granite tankard.
The chubby, brown-haired man shouts, in sirihish:
"Two for Aja!"
The sinewy, weather-worn man looks upward with a bleary smile as he is dragged, obviously completely unaware of his
surroundings.
Laughing merrily, the spiral-scarred black woman sits at a compact agafari table.
At a compact agafari table, the wasp-waisted brunette woman speaks, watching the ethereal, fair-haired woman.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman twirls, jumping over the sinewy, weather-worn man's prone leg as she runs for the door.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman runs east.
Gesturing to the sinewy, weather-worn man, you ask the spiral-scarred black woman, in sirihish:
"Mind helping me move him to a booth in the spice den?"
The spiral-scarred black woman stands up from a compact agafari table.
The spiral-scarred black woman sits at a curved, agafari bar.
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"That's four!"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Er... three!"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Oooh.. she's down!"
Grinning, the chubby, brown-haired man exclaims, in sirihish:
"She's down!"
The wasp-waisted brunette woman sips from her red-striped granite tankard.
The chubby, brown-haired man hurries past a curved, agafari bar.
The chubby, brown-haired man walks east.
The short, barrel-chested dwarf walks east.
Shifting her attention back to you with a grin, the spiral-scarred black woman stands up from a curved, agafari bar.
The onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man bursts into laughter.
At a compact agafari table, the wasp-waisted brunette woman speaks, peering eastward.
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"As a reward...she gets to...chug!"
Nodding, the spiral-scarred black woman asks you, in 36msirihish:
"You grab one ear, an' I'll grab the other, eh?"
Leaning over, his tone amused, the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man whispers something to the thick, curly-haired man.
Chuckling as he glances to the east, then reaches for one side of the sinewy,
weather-worn man, you say, in sirihish:
"Eh...that'll work."
The wasp-waisted brunette woman drinks spiced ginka wine from her red-striped granite tankard.
With a half grin the thick, curly-haired man nods agreeingly at the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man.
The spiral-scarred black woman snickers, wrapping her hands around one of the sinewy, weather-worn man's arms and tugging
him toward a table at the wall.
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Chug! Chug!"
At a compact agafari table, the pale, blond-haired young man speaks, chuckling at the wasp-waisted brunette woman.
A female whore disappears into a crowd of rough-looking men and women.
At a compact agafari table, the wasp-waisted brunette woman speaks, laughing softly as she looks eastward.
After some grunting and dragging, the tall, scarred human jointly deposits the sinewy, weather-worn man's drunken form by
a table.
The pale, blond-haired young man beams a smile at the wasp-waisted brunette woman.
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"She's out!"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"And she can't make it, down again! Three is the under, six the over, folks!"
The spiral-scarred black woman squats down next to the sinewy, weather-worn man, withdrawing a stick of charcoal from her
earthy leather pouched belt and studying his face with a mischevious grin for a long moment..
The sinewy, weather-worn man manages to sit up for a few fleeting moments before tipping over, his head landing againt the
edge of the table with a loud thunk.
The chubby, brown-haired man has arrived from the east.
The short, barrel-chested dwarf has arrived from the east.
The chubby, brown-haired man walks east.
The short, barrel-chested dwarf walks east.
The wasp-waisted brunette woman glances toward the spiral-scarred black woman with an amused smile.
The spiral-scarred black woman grins, giving the sinewy, weather-worn man's hair a ruffle with one hand as she saunters
back to a curved, agafari bar, tucking the charcoal away.
The spiral-scarred black woman sits at a curved, agafari bar.
The chubby, brown-haired man has arrived from the east.
The short, barrel-chested dwarf has arrived from the east.
The tall, scarred human quickly whirls his attention towards the sound from the sinewy, weather-worn man, but then
relaxes, chuckling quietly.
The coffee-tressed young woman has arrived from the west.
The chubby, brown-haired man says, in sirihish:
"So...Nahkt leads with six...Aja has three..."
With a smile, the spiral-scarred black woman looks up at the coffee-tressed young woman.
The chubby, brown-haired man shouts, in sirihish:
"Who's next?"
Following the spiral-tressed, bronzed woman's gaze, the thick, curly-haired man looks up at the coffee-tressed young
woman.
The tall, scarred human readjusts the sinewy, weather-worn man at a spare table, standing beside him while fiddling with
your rope-strapped canvas backpack.
A thin trail of rich, heady smoke trickles from the wasp-waisted brunette woman's mouth as she smokes an intricately
carved, polished bone pipe.
The wasp-waisted brunette woman's eyes become glassy-red and half-closed.
A thin trail of rich, heady smoke trickles from the pale, blond-haired young man's mouth as he smokes a smoothly carved
black pipe.
The pale, blond-haired young man's eyes become glassy-red and half-closed.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the chubby, brown-haired man with the Way.
The pale, blond-haired young man taps his smoothly carved black pipe against a compact agafari table's side, ashes
trickling out.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the chubby, brown-haired man:
"We happen to have any smelling salts? I'm fresh out."
The chubby, brown-haired man smiles upon seeing the coffee-tressed young woman.
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"And coming in next... with a name I especially like... the MIGHTY KURJAX!"
At a curved, agafari bar, the thick, curly-haired man speaks, clucking his tongue and nodding to the onyx-skinned,
ruby-maned man.
The coffee-tressed young woman looks around over the crowded room and scratches her head.
You suffer from use of the Way.
The chubby, brown-haired man looks to you and shakes his head.
You dissolve the psychic link.
The thick, curly-haired man bobs his head in somber agreement, lips curved up faintly.
The wasp-waisted brunette woman breathes out slowly, fragrant smoke filling the air around her.
The spiral-scarred black woman grins, leaning forward on both elbows to watch the eastern doors, lifting an armload of
dark dreadlocks over her shoulder.
The chubby, brown-haired man shouts, in sirihish:
"Where is he?"
The coffee-tressed young woman pushes her way through the crowd until she reaches a curved, agafari bar and takes a vacant
stool near the thick, curly-haired man and the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man.
The coffee-tressed young woman sits at a curved, agafari bar.
The substantial, slash-tattooed man has arrived from the east, lumbering through the doorway.
Grinning at him, the chubby, brown-haired man says to the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man, in sirihish:
"Not at all...tell her to go to the spice den."
The chubby, brown-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Ahh...here he is...give him room."
Tipping his hat, the thick, curly-haired man looks at the coffee-tressed young woman.
The substantial, slash-tattooed man moves at a lumbering gate toward a curved, agafari bar, reaching for a tankard.
The sinewy, weather-worn man turns a wide smile to the figure beside and thumps a fist hard against his back, a friendly
gesture perhaps if it weren't executed with such force.
The spiral-scarred black woman scoots her stool back from the tankards, watching the substantial, slash-tattooed man with
a grin.
The substantial, slash-tattooed man gets his red-striped granite tankard from a curved, agafari bar.
The coffee-tressed young woman gets her red-striped granite tankard from a curved, agafari bar.
With a grin towards the coffee-tressed young woman, the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man says, in sirihish:
"Cousin, y'almost didn' make it. Ya kin still get in on th' competition though, rush along ta th' spice den."
The substantial, slash-tattooed man scoops his red-striped granite tankard from a curved, agafari bar, bringing it to his
mouth quickly and drinking deeply from it.
The stocky, crooked-nose man watches the substantial, slash-tattooed man shortly before turning his eyes about the rest of
the crowd and back.
The substantial, slash-tattooed man drinks spiced-mead from his red-striped granite tankard.
The substantial, slash-tattooed man drinks spiced-mead from his red-striped granite tankard.
The substantial, slash-tattooed man puts his red-striped granite tankard onto a curved, agafari bar.
Grinning, the chubby, brown-haired man says to the coffee-tressed young woman, in sirihish:
"It's fine, go over to Rokov and tell him you're in."
At a curved, agafari bar, the thick, curly-haired man speaks, grinning and nodding at the coffee-tressed young woman.
The substantial, slash-tattooed man slams the tankard down on the bar, wiping a large hand across his lips.
The chubby, brown-haired man shouts, in sirihish:
"On his way back!"
At a curved, agafari bar, the coffee-tressed young woman speaks, shaking her head quickly.
The substantial, slash-tattooed man's face reddens slightly as he turns to bolt toward the doorway.
Striding along with a swaying gate, the substantial, slash-tattooed man runs east.
The tall, scarred human is standing near an empty table watchfully.
Gesturing with a shoo'ing motion towards the coffee-tressed young woman towards the spice den, the onyx-skinned,
ruby-maned man says, in sirihish:
"Nonsense, jus take 'em off."
The spiral-scarred black woman raises a grin to the coffee-tressed young woman from down the bar, nodding.
At a curved, agafari bar, the coffee-tressed young woman speaks, putting her hands on her hips and smirking at the
onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man.
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"That's three.. he's still standing! Can he make it back..?!"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the spiral-scarred black woman with the Way.
At a curved, agafari bar, the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man speaks, confidently.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the spiral-scarred black woman:
"Thank you for the assistance, by the way..."
The substantial, slash-tattooed man has arrived from the east, swaying slightly.
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"And... he..... DOES!"
The substantial, slash-tattooed man lumbers toward a curved, agafari bar.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The substantial, slash-tattooed man slams against a curved, agafari bar, jostling the tankards on top of it slightly.
At a curved, agafari bar, the coffee-tressed young woman speaks, pouting.
The chubby, brown-haired man shouts, in sirihish:
"He's going for four...!"
The substantial, slash-tattooed man fumbles with a tankard, managing to get a grip on its handle.
The wasp-waisted brunette woman pats the side of her red-striped granite tankard, watching the substantial, slash-tattooed
man.
The substantial, slash-tattooed man gets his red-striped granite tankard from a curved, agafari bar.
The spiral-scarred black woman sends you a telepathic message:
"No worries, it'd be a shame to lose Nahkt to a trampling."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
Slurring slightly, the substantial, slash-tattooed man says, in sirihish:
"Ish...empty.."
The substantial, slash-tattooed man discards his red-striped granite tankard.
The substantial, slash-tattooed man pushes the tankard away.
The substantial, slash-tattooed man gets his red-striped granite tankard from a curved, agafari bar.
The chubby, brown-haired man says to the substantial, slash-tattooed man, in sirihish:
"Get one that isn't."
The thick, curly-haired man chortles, glancing between the chubby, brown-haired man and the substantial, slash-tattooed
man.
The substantial, slash-tattooed man grins lopsidedly, bringing his red-striped granite tankard to his lips.
The substantial, slash-tattooed man drinks spiced-mead from his red-striped granite tankard.
Rolling his eyes, the chubby, brown-haired man says, in sirihish:
"I thought that was pretty clear..."
The chubby, brown-haired man chuckles.
The substantial, slash-tattooed man spills the remains of the tankard down himself as he falls.
Watching the substantial, slash-tattooed man, the spiral-scarred black woman grins, lounging against a curved, agafari bar
as she grins to the chubby, brown-haired man.
The chubby, brown-haired man shouts, in sirihish:
"Oh...another one out!"
The substantial, slash-tattooed man begins to snore deeply.
Mouth stretching open, the pale, blond-haired young man yawns.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the spiral-scarred black woman:
"I was curious--is there anything in particular that your Chosen Lady fancies?"
The chubby, brown-haired man shouts, in sirihish:
"He got...almost four!"
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The chubby, brown-haired man shouts, in sirihish:
"Not good enough for first...and not bad enough for last."
The spiral-scarred black woman sends you a telepathic message:
"She's a sucker for purple things, I can tell you that."
The chubby, brown-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Someone get him out of the way..."
The onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man frowns, his brow furrowing in concentration.
The onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man is gone for a few.
The sinewy, weather-worn man's eyes flutter open.
The chubby, brown-haired man shouts, in sirihish:
"Who's next?"
The chubby, brown-haired man says, in sirihish:
"only two more left..."
You send a telepathic message to the spiral-scarred black woman:
"Indeed? I'll keep that in mind. I frequently see her about these parts, so I will keep that in mind to pass it
along to those who may wish to know. Thank you again."
You dissolve the psychic link.
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Coming in next... and she's excited as ever... the lovely... TIANA!"
Looking about the group, the chubby, brown-haired man asks, in sirihish:
"Or is there anyone else who wants to enter late?"
The chubby, brown-haired man asks, in sirihish:
"Tiana?"
The chubby, brown-haired man chcukles.
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
The coffee-tressed young woman puts her red-striped granite tankard onto a curved, agafari bar.
The chubby, brown-haired man's chuckles become a laugh.
The sinewy, weather-worn man lifts his head from chest wearing a deep scowl.
Glancing down at the substantial, slash-tattooed man, the spiral-scarred black woman says to the chubby, brown-haired man,
in sirihish:
"Wonder if I should wake him up and shift him out of the way."
Still keeping her eyes roving about the room, the cold eyed woman eats her ocotillo bulb.
Shaking his head, the stocky, crooked-nose man says, in sirihish:
"Unfortunately I am on duty. Though quite fun to watch others see how much they can take down."
The sinewy, weather-worn man grabs the edge of the table beside him and pulls himself to his feet.
With a smile, the chubby, brown-haired man says to the spiral-scarred black woman, in sirihish:
"I would hate to see the woman fall over...ahh...leave him..."
The chubby, brown-haired man chuckles.
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Wait, no, Tiana has.. gracefully bowed out. In her place... Rashia!"
Archly, the spiral-scarred black woman says to the chubby, brown-haired man, in sirihish:
"You would not."
The chubby, brown-haired man grins at the spiral-scarred black woman before looking east.
The sinewy, weather-worn man rises from the ground, and clambers to his feet.
The chubby, brown-haired man says to the spiral-scarred black woman, in sirihish:
"Out of my control...I don't move them."
The spiral-scarred black woman glances over her shoulder to the wasp-waisted brunette woman with a chuckle, shaking her
head wryly.
The wasp-waisted brunette woman returns the spiral-scarred black woman's gaze, smiling amusedly.
The tall, red-haired female has arrived from the east.
The chubby, brown-haired man exclaims, in sirihish:
"Here she is...go Rashia! Make your daughters proud!"
The sinewy, weather-worn man trudges forward with a heavy step, stumbling several times before reaching a stool at the bar
and leaning against it for support.
As he glances around to those nearest him, you say, in sirihish:
"Eh, I'm not dragging -every- collapsed drunk out of the way..."
The tall, red-haired female gets her red-striped granite tankard from a curved, agafari bar.
You sit at a curved, agafari bar.
Nodding sagely, the spiral-scarred black woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Just the lucky ones"
The tall, red-haired female drinks spiced-mead from her red-striped granite tankard.
The coffee-tressed young woman rubs her temples and frowns.
The tall, red-haired female discards her red-striped granite tankard.
Moving himself carefully onto a stool, the sinewy, weather-worn man sits at a curved, agafari bar.
The tall, red-haired female runs east.
The chubby, brown-haired man shouts, in sirihish:
"Two!"
The long-limbed blue-eyed man shifts his position slightly, looking around.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man intently scans the area.
The cold eyed woman intently scans the area.
At your table, the thick, curly-haired man says in sirihish, as he eyes a scantily-clad whore nearby:
"Zaea.. Could you do me a favor?"
The sinewy, weather-worn man wavers wildly atop his stool for a moment and then leans to slouch against the bartop.
As he casts his eyes about, the stocky, crooked-nose man looks up at the long-limbed blue-eyed man.
With a grin, the chubby, brown-haired man says to the sinewy, weather-worn man, in sirihish:
"You got the big lead, Nahkt. Good work."
At your table, the coffee-tressed young woman says in southern-accented sirihish, sweeping her eyes sidelong to the thick,
curly-haired man:
"What's that?"
At your table, the thick, curly-haired man says in sirihish, nodding back to the inky-curled female half-giant:
"Could y'drop Dori off in the compound's guard house for me? I think.."
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"She's standing after three... and coming back!"
The chubby, brown-haired man exclaims, in sirihish:
"And is down! Everyone yell chug!"
Craning her neck, the coffee-tressed young woman looks up at the inky-curled female half-giant.
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"And... she's down too!"
Hurrying, the chubby, brown-haired man walks east.
The short, barrel-chested dwarf walks east.
At your table, the thick, curly-haired man says in sirihish, moistening his lips as he leers at the sultry young girl:
"That I have some business t'tend."
The substantial, slash-tattooed man interrupts his snoring to mumble something incoherent.
Cupping a hand around her mouth, the spiral-scarred black woman shouts, in sirihish:
"Chuggit!"
Leaning forward a bit, the wasp-waisted brunette woman peers eastward into the spice den.
At your table, the coffee-tressed young woman says in southern-accented sirihish, shrugging her shoulders:
"Sure, no problem."
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Chug! Chug!"
At a compact agafari table, the pale, blond-haired young man speaks, watching the wasp-waisted brunette woman with a
grin.
A stoic, broad-shouldered man has arrived from the west.
At your table, the thick, curly-haired man says in sirihish, dipping his head to the coffee-tressed young woman:
"Thanks, coz. Oh.. And I left you a couple've pieces of stuff with the white silk."
At your table, the coffee-tressed young woman says in southern-accented sirihish:
"Where at?"
At a compact agafari table, the wasp-waisted brunette woman speaks, looking back to the pale, blond-haired young man, a
merry twinkle in her eye.
A stoic, broad-shouldered man walks east.
At your table, the coffee-tressed young woman says in southern-accented sirihish:
"Oh, with the bolts?"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"It's a duel between her balance and her liver, folks... which one is going to lose first?"
At your table, the thick, curly-haired man says in sirihish, nodding to the coffee-tressed young woman:
"In there, yeah."
A short ruckus bursts into life just outside in the street, as though somebody had just run by, with soldiers in hot
pursuit.
At your table, the coffee-tressed young woman says in southern-accented sirihish, with a grin:
"Thanks, Shar."
At your table, the thick, curly-haired man says in sirihish, nodding to the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man and the
coffee-tressed young woman as he rises up:
"You two don't get too plastered."
The inky-curled female half-giant stops guarding the thick, curly-haired man.
The inky-curled female half-giant begins guarding the coffee-tressed young woman.
The thick, curly-haired man stands up from a curved, agafari bar.
Smiling braodly, the spiral-scarred black woman asks the thick, curly-haired man, in sirihish:
"Leaving so soon, Agent Sharlo?"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"She's out!"
The coffee-tressed young woman looks up at the inky-curled female half-giant again, then smiles and waves.
The thick, curly-haired man looks down at the spiral-scarred black woman.
At a compact agafari table, the wasp-waisted brunette woman speaks, laughing softly.
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"And she can't finish... that puts her just behind Aja, our new last-place... uh.. "winner"!"
The thick, curly-haired man says to the spiral-scarred black woman, in sirihish:
"Aye.. Have some business to tend and all. Drink a few for me."
Laughing softly, the spiral-scarred black woman says to the thick, curly-haired man, in sirihish:
"You've my word on that. Walk in His Light."
The cold eyed woman begins guarding the coffee-tressed young woman.
The thick, curly-haired man clucks his tongue and lumbers over to a scrawny waif, chats with her for a moment, then nods
decisively and ambles away with her in tow.
The coffee-tressed young woman closes a leather-strapped, rich purple satchel.
The thick, curly-haired man has departed from the
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Last contestant...Diri!"
The chubby, brown-haired man has arrived from the east.
A grin quirking the corners of her mouth, the spiral-scarred black woman fastens her attention on the spice den doors,
clasping her hands atop a curved, agafari bar.
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Here she comes!"
The sleek, black-haired woman has arrived from the east, moving through the crowd.
The chubby, brown-haired man exclaims, in sirihish:
"Once she's done...all the tankards left on the bars...and there are lots...must be drank...and then the casks must
be emptied!"
Reaching the bar, the sleek, black-haired woman reaches for a tankard.
Raising a fist into the air, the spiral-scarred black woman exclaims to the sleek, black-haired woman, in sirihish:
"Go, Diri!"
The sleek, black-haired woman gets her red-striped granite tankard from a curved, agafari bar.
The chubby, brown-haired man grins, watching the sleek, black-haired woman.
The sleek, black-haired woman sighs before lifting the tankard.
The sleek, black-haired woman drinks spiced-mead from her red-striped granite tankard.
The sleek, black-haired woman drinks spiced-mead from her red-striped granite tankard.
The chubby, brown-haired man shouts, in sirihish:
"Two!"
The sleek, black-haired woman discards her red-striped granite tankard.
The sleek, black-haired woman runs east.
The chubby, brown-haired man puts his squat bulbous gourd onto a curved, agafari bar.
The chubby, brown-haired man puts his squat bulbous gourd onto a curved, agafari bar.
The chubby, brown-haired man puts his squat bulbous gourd onto a curved, agafari bar.
The chubby, brown-haired man shouts, in sirihish:
"Already?"
The wasp-waisted brunette woman laughs, shaking her head as she looks toward the spice den.
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"And she goes down! Just a hair in behind Rashia and Aja!"
Grinning, the chubby, brown-haired man exclaims, in sirihish:
"It's over! Drink it all up, folks!"
The chubby, brown-haired man shouts, in sirihish:
"Rest of drinks are free!"
Wiping her brow in mick relief, the spiral-scarred black woman gets her red-striped granite tankard from a curved, agafari
bar.
The spiral-scarred black woman holds her red-striped granite tankard.
Raising it high to the chubby, brown-haired man first, the spiral-scarred black woman sips from her red-striped granite
tankard.
At your table, you say in sirihish, grabbing up a spare tankard:
"Ah, good to hear..."
Approaching, the chubby, brown-haired man looks down at the sinewy, weather-worn man.
You get your red-striped granite tankard from a curved, agafari bar.
It is very light, and full.
You sip from your red-striped granite tankard.
This mead has been heavily mixed with spice.
The coffee-tressed young woman gets her red-striped granite tankard from a curved, agafari bar.
The spiral-scarred black woman stands up from a curved, agafari bar.
The spiral-scarred black woman walks east.
The stocky, crooked-nose man walks east.
The chubby, brown-haired man shouts, in sirihish:
"Nahkt...our winner...gets..."
The stocky, crooked-nose man has arrived from the east.
The chubby, brown-haired man gets his long black leather wristsheath from his reinforced red sandcloth backpack.
Holding up his long black leather wristsheath, the chubby, brown-haired man exclaims, in sirihish:
"A new wristsheath...worth one large!"
The onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man puts his dark glass jug onto a curved, agafari bar.
The chubby, brown-haired man gives his long black leather wristsheath to the sinewy, weather-worn man.
The onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man gets his squat bulbous gourd from a curved, agafari bar.
The chubby, brown-haired man gets his emblazoned, dun colored sack from his reinforced red sandcloth backpack.
At your table, you say in sirihish, gesturing to the sinewy, weather-worn man:
"Shit, soldier. That's worth the headache, eh?"
You are a little hungry.
The sinewy, weather-worn man lifts his head up as the chubby, brown-haired man slips the wristsheath under his arm and
looks down at it with a bleary gaze.
The substantial, slash-tattooed man smacks his lips together, murmuring to himself and releasing a long fart.
Grinning, the chubby, brown-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Of course...I have another which would be for sale, in case anyone wants to buy it."
The chubby, brown-haired man taps his long black leather wristsheath on his own wrist.
The pale, blond-haired young man sighs.
The chubby, brown-haired man gets his feathered red headwrap from his emblazoned, dun colored sack.
A horrid sulphurous smell fills the air near the substantial, slash-tattooed man as he returning to steady snoring.
Holding up his feathered red headwrap, the chubby, brown-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Our loser...Diri...gets this lovely headwrap..."
The sinewy, weather-worn man turns his head to the general direction of you and gives a slow nod.
The chubby, brown-haired man asks, in sirihish:
"Worth...hmm...twenty five coins?"
The substantial, slash-tattooed man's eyes flutter open.
The wasp-waisted brunette woman sips from her red-striped granite tankard.
The chubby, brown-haired man chuckles.
Grinning with a deep chuckle, the stocky, crooked-nose man says to the sinewy, weather-worn man, in sirihish:
"Good to know somebody around here can hold their drink, good job. "
The chubby, brown-haired man walks east.
The spiral-scarred black woman has arrived from the east, tankard in hand.
The onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man's nose twitches.
Returning to her stool, the spiral-scarred black woman sits at a curved, agafari bar.
As she sips from her red-striped granite tankard, the spiral-scarred black woman looks up at the long-limbed blue-eyed
man.
The spiral-scarred black woman stops using her red-striped granite tankard.
Sliding it into the bartop, the spiral-scarred black woman discards her red-striped granite tankard.
The sinewy, weather-worn man turns to the stocky, crooked-nose man with a smirk and thumps a fist against his leather
cuirass several times.
A thin trail of rich, heady smoke trickles from the wasp-waisted brunette woman's mouth as she smokes an intricately
carved, polished bone pipe.
The wasp-waisted brunette woman's eyes become glassy-red and half-closed.
The coffee-tressed young woman sips from her red-striped granite tankard.
Tapping it into an ashtray, the wasp-waisted brunette woman stops using her intricately carved, polished bone pipe.
Reaching for another, wiping her lips, the spiral-scarred black woman gets her red-striped granite tankard from a curved,
agafari bar.
The substantial, slash-tattooed man blinks groggily, rubbing at his eyes.
The spiral-scarred black woman drinks spiced-mead from her red-striped granite tankard, regarding it fondly.
The substantial, slash-tattooed man belches and mumbles to himself.
The substantial, slash-tattooed man stops resting.
The stocky, clean-shaven man has arrived from the east.
The fuzzy, red-streaked pup has arrived from the east.
At your table, the sinewy, weather-worn man says in sirihish, grumbling toward you:
"Who came the closest?"
Slurring slightly, the substantial, slash-tattooed man asks, in sirihish:
"Who won?"
The spiral-scarred black woman drinks spiced-mead from her red-striped granite tankard.
The stocky, crooked-nose man walks east.
Hopping up on a vacant chair to call out, the stocky, clean-shaven man says, in sirihish:
"Hope everyone enjoyed the entertainment, folks... Regular Nahkt is our winner with six, followed by Kurjax the Mighty, and then Aja, Rashia, and Diri."
The spiral-scarred black woman chuckles, raising both hands to clap heartily.
Swaying unsteadily, the substantial, slash-tattooed man stands up.
The wasp-waisted brunette woman breathes out slowly, smoke writhing through the air, its sweet smell mingling with the
scent of citron as she listens to the stocky, clean-shaven man.
The stocky, clean-shaven man exclaims, in sirihish:
"Brethel has prizes for everyone, and so do I... but my prizes come along with my big announcement, which I hope everyone will stick around for!"
Chuckling to himself, the sinewy, weather-worn man says, in sirihish:
"Diri the light-headed."
The wasp-waisted brunette woman puts her intricately carved, polished bone pipe into her leather spice pouch.
The wasp-waisted brunette woman closes a leather spice pouch.
The substantial, slash-tattooed man says to the sinewy, weather-worn man, in sirihish:
"Goo' fuckin' drinkin'."
At your table, the sinewy, weather-worn man says in sirihish, looking to the substantial, slash-tattooed man with a firm
nod:
"Damn right. I hear ya did well yerself."
Regretfully peering into it, the spiral-scarred black woman puts her red-striped granite tankard onto a curved, agafari
bar.
With a smile, the stocky, clean-shaven man says, in sirihish:
"But I'd like everyone to give a big cheer for our competitors, and I'd also like to thank the very esteemed
Lord Ardus Negean and Chosen Lady Madelena Dasari for being with us tonight..."
The spiral-scarred black woman gets her average-looking tube of spice from her earthy leather pouched belt.
The spiral-scarred black woman holds her average-looking tube of spice.
The substantial, slash-tattooed man reaches a large hand out to steady himself on a curved, agafari bar.
The substantial, slash-tattooed man sits at a curved, agafari bar.
The wasp-waisted brunette woman nods amiably to the stocky, clean-shaven man, lifting her red-striped granite tankard in
salute.
The spiral-scarred black woman calls out, grinning, raising her average-looking tube of spice to a compact agafari table.
The stocky, clean-shaven man exclaims, in sirihish:
"... and to House Tenneshi and our Chosen Governor Zaqar Tenneshi, who sadly couldn't attend, for co-sponsoring the event! We love you all!"
The pale, blond-haired young man smirks, lifting a hand to the stocky, clean-shaven man.
Swaying atop his barstool, the substantial, slash-tattooed man exclaims, in sirihish:
"Aye!"
Sharply, the pale, blond-haired young man looks at the substantial, slash-tattooed man.
Jumping down from his stool and muttering more quietly, the stocky, clean-shaven man says, in sirihish:
".. and that's enough shouting for a bit. I need a drink."
The spiral-scarred black woman leans over to a squat brown candle nearby, puffing a few times on her average-looking tube
of spice to light it.
A thin trail of musky smoke trickles from the spiral-scarred black woman's mouth as she smokes an average-looking tube of
spice.
The spiral-scarred black woman flexes unconsciously and smiles to herself.
The stocky, clean-shaven man gets his red-striped granite tankard from a curved, agafari bar.
The sinewy, weather-worn man stands up from a curved, agafari bar.
Grabbing a seat near the coffee-tressed young woman and the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man, the stocky, clean-shaven man
sits at a curved, agafari bar.
Tentatively, the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man sips from his squat bulbous gourd.
At your table, the stocky, clean-shaven man says in sirihish:
"Glad you could make it, Senior Agent and Agent."
The coffee-tressed young woman looks at the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man and raises a brow.
The onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man lets out a strangled sound, his face fighting for composure.
At your table, the stocky, clean-shaven man says in sirihish, looking around:
"Did ol' Sharlo run off before I could say hi?"
The sinewy, weather-worn man wobbles for a moment on his feet and then settles back onto a stool.
The sinewy, weather-worn man sits at a curved, agafari bar.
A thin trail of musky smoke trickles from the spiral-scarred black woman's mouth as she smokes an average-looking tube of
spice.
The spiral-scarred black woman flexes unconsciously and smiles to herself.
At your table, the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man says in sirihish, his voice a bit raspy:
"Fraid he did, m'friend. Business, he always got business goin on."
At your table, the sinewy, weather-worn man says in sirihish, looking over to the spiral-scarred black woman:
"Ya didn' give yer show already, did ya?"
At your table, the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man says in sirihish, his eyes watering a bit, waggling his squat bulbous
gourd:
"Interesting concoction."
The spiral-scarred black woman chuckles to the stocky, clean-shaven man as she blows out a cloud of thick smoke, nodding
in agreement with the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man.
You are a little hungry.
At your table, the stocky, clean-shaven man says in sirihish:
"Ahh... you tried the agvat. Brave man."
The stocky, clean-shaven man drinks spiced-mead from his red-striped granite tankard.
At your table, the spiral-scarred black woman says in sirihish, shaking her head to the sinewy, weather-worn man:
"Nah, I figured I'd wait til Brethel came back in."
At your table, the coffee-tressed young woman says in southern-accented sirihish, slowly:
"Ag...vat...?"
At your table, the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man says in sirihish:
"Guh... even sounds evil. Just like th' taste."
At your table, the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man says in sirihish:
"Smells like some'n I use to get stains off th' argosy's wheels."
At your table, the stocky, clean-shaven man says in sirihish, with an innocent grin:
"Well do -do- do a lot of wagon construction and repair."
The coffee-tressed young woman wrinkles her nose.
At your table, the sinewy, weather-worn man says in sirihish, turning to the coffee-tressed young woman with a
yellow-toothed grin:
"I think the name's supposed ta sound somethin' like a man wretchin'."
The tan, choppy-haired man has arrived from the west.
The stocky, clean-shaven man drinks spiced-mead from his red-striped granite tankard.
You sip from your red-striped granite tankard.
This mead has been heavily mixed with spice.
You are a little hungry.
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Anyone who needs a new quiver...get over here!"
At your table, the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man says in sirihish, his lips twisting into a wry grin towards the stocky,
clean-shaven man:
"Always bes ta 'ave somethin fer multiple uses, eh? This stuff's stiff. I might try ta spring some on a feller down
in Nak who's been testin me patience."
The tan, choppy-haired man ambles through the room, a hand lifting to adjust his agafari shortbow.
The tan, choppy-haired man walks east.
At your table, the spiral-scarred black woman says in sirihish, chuckling to the sinewy, weather-worn man:
"Not too far off the taste, either."
At your table, the stocky, clean-shaven man says in sirihish, glancing down at the fuzzy, red-streaked pup:
"You know what, pup? We should have taught you tricks."
At your table, the spiral-scarred black woman says in sirihish, to the stocky, clean-shaven man:
"I've got a juggling ball. You could start right now."
At your table, the stocky, clean-shaven man says in sirihish:
"Maybe had you fight a tregil or something... in the ginka sauce pit."
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Kuraci quiver...camouflaged for the desert! If I have only one person...I have to give it to him!"
Sliding off his stool, the sinewy, weather-worn man says, in sirihish:
"I could use one"
The spiral-scarred black woman stands up from a curved, agafari bar.
At your table, you say in sirihish, glancing to the east:
"Shit, I could too."
The spiral-scarred black woman says to the sinewy, weather-worn man, in sirihish:
"Race ya."
The spiral-scarred black woman walks east.
At your table, the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man says in sirihish:
"What's this one for?"
The sinewy, weather-worn man stands up from a curved, agafari bar.
Wavering wildly, the sinewy, weather-worn man walks east.
At your table, the stocky, clean-shaven man says in sirihish:
"Brethel's doing gambling games."
The stocky, clean-shaven man discards his red-striped granite tankard.
You stand up from a curved, agafari bar.
Using the cloth to press to her face and neck, the ethereal, fair-haired woman stops using her turquoise bandana.
The chubby, brown-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Well...it's simple...anyone who wants in...puts in fifty coins..."
The sinewy, weather-worn man puts his long black leather wristsheath into his small bag.
As she leans back against a table, the ethereal, fair-haired woman says to the stocky, crooked-nose man, in sirihish:
"Need's... a breeze in here..."
Snapping her fingers, the spiral-scarred black woman says to the chubby, brown-haired man, in sirihish:
"Damn. I spent all my sid gettin' pretty for tonight."
With a mocking wink, the stocky, crooked-nose man says to the ethereal, fair-haired woman, in sirihish:
"Well that is what you get for winking at men, you fall down...."
The chubby, brown-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Who ever rolls highest...wins the quiver...highest is...Lirathu...Jihae...purse...knife...kank...then noose."
You get your pile of allanaki coins from your hooded, dun-colored dustcloak.
There were 170 coins.
It is very light.
At a plush, embroidered couch, the tall, red-haired female speaks, with a laugh.
You sip from your red-striped granite tankard.
This mead has been heavily mixed with spice.
You are a little hungry.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman looks down at the stocky, crooked-nose man.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman grins and then winks to the stocky, crooked-nose man.
Smiling, the chubby, brown-haired man says to the spiral-scarred black woman, in sirihish:
"Go and ask the Chosen Lady."
The ethereal, fair-haired woman gives an exaggerated sigh and drops to the ground.
The stocky, crooked-nose man steps closer towards the ethereal, fair-haired woman, blowing softly into her ear.
The sinewy, weather-worn man gets his pile of allanaki coins from his bone-framed, double strapped coin belt.
At a plush, embroidered couch, the tall, crop-haired human speaks, smiling.
The spiral-scarred black woman turns with a smirk, striding off down the room.
The spiral-scarred black woman walks west.
Holding up a handful of coins, you ask, in sirihish:
"Who are these given to, eh?"
The sinewy, weather-worn man shouts, in sirihish:
"Tsenna get back here!"
At a small, polished wooden bar, the tan, choppy-haired man speaks, turning on his stool to face the room.
Calling out from a small, polished wooden bar, the chubby, brown-haired man says to the stocky, crooked-nose man, in
sirihish:
"Sheath is a thousand coins, right."
The ethereal, fair-haired woman chuckles, sitting up with her arms on her knees as she looks to the stocky, crooked-nose
man.
You hear a woman's voice shout from the west in sirihish:
"Hang on!"
Gesturing, the chubby, brown-haired man says to you, in sirihish:
"Me."
The ethereal, fair-haired woman says to the stocky, crooked-nose man, in sirihish:
"That tickles..."
You give the chubby, brown-haired man 50 coins.
The sinewy, weather-worn man gives some coins to the chubby, brown-haired man.
The chubby, brown-haired man shouts, in sirihish:
"Last chance...win a Kuraci quiver for only fifty coins!"
At a plush, embroidered couch, the tall, red-haired female speaks, reaching over to pat the tall, crop-haired human's
shoulder and missing horribly.
The spiral-scarred black woman has arrived from the west, hurrying back in.
With a smirk as he lays a hand on her shoulder, the stocky, crooked-nose man says to the ethereal, fair-haired woman, in
sirihish:
"There your breaze. As much as your gonna get in here. "
With exaggerated grumpiness, the spiral-scarred black woman says to the chubby, brown-haired man, in sirihish:
"Arright."
Looking at him, the chubby, brown-haired man asks the tan, choppy-haired man, in sirihish:
"In?"
The stocky, crooked-nose man opens a leather belt-pack.
Plopping down next to the sinewy, weather-worn man, the spiral-scarred black woman sits at a small, polished wooden bar.
With a somber expression, the ethereal, fair-haired woman asks the stocky, crooked-nose man, in sirihish:
"S'not very much, is it?"
The stocky, crooked-nose man closes a leather belt-pack.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman looks at the stocky, crooked-nose man's hand.
Dipping his head slowly, the tan, choppy-haired man says to the chubby, brown-haired man, in sirihish:
"Aye alright."
The sinewy, weather-worn man puts his pile of allanaki coins into his bone-framed, double strapped coin belt.
The tan, choppy-haired man opens a leather strapped, traveling knapsack.
The tan, choppy-haired man gets his pile of allanaki coins from his leather strapped, traveling knapsack.
At a plush, embroidered couch, the tall, crop-haired human speaks, grinning broadly at the tall, red-haired female.
The spiral-scarred black woman gives some coins to the chubby, brown-haired man.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman pulls on the stocky, crooked-nose man's hand as she moves to stand.
The spiral-scarred black woman puts her pile of allanaki coins into her earthy leather pouched belt.
The tan, choppy-haired man gives some coins to the chubby, brown-haired man.
Shaking his head, the stocky, crooked-nose man says to the ethereal, fair-haired woman, in sirihish:
"No, but I could do it more, but then I'd have you laughing all over the place now wouldn't I? "
Breezily, the ethereal, fair-haired woman says to the stocky, crooked-nose man, in sirihish:
"Laughing is good."
The tall, red-haired female says, out of character:
Leaning in close, the tall, crop-haired human whispers something to the tall, red-haired female.
Nodding with a grin, the chubby, brown-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Okay...four are in...Nahkt, then Mynkas, Tsenna...and..."
The chubby, brown-haired man looks at the tall, crop-haired human.
The tall, crop-haired human nods to the tall, red-haired female.
At a small, polished wooden bar, the chubby, brown-haired man speaks, to the tall, crop-haired human.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman gives a soft yelp as she looks into the other room.
The tall, red-haired female stands up from a plush, embroidered couch.
The stocky, crooked-nose man opens a leather belt-pack.
The tall, red-haired female has departed from the
The stocky, crooked-nose man closes a leather belt-pack.
Swallowing, the ethereal, fair-haired woman says, in sirihish:
"Oh, oh... Faithful Lord Elithan's here..."
Shaking her head, the ethereal, fair-haired woman says to the stocky, crooked-nose man, in sirihish:
"S'can't... can't see me like this..."
You put your pile of allanaki coins into your hooded, dun-colored dustcloak.
Tucking her feet onto the top rung of her stool, the spiral-scarred black woman grins to the ethereal, fair-haired woman
before turning to the chubby, brown-haired man.
Making sure the tall, red-haired female is comfortable, the tall, crop-haired human stands up.
The tall, crop-haired human stands up from a plush, embroidered couch.
The sinewy, weather-worn man's eyes widen as he glances off to the west.
The tall, crop-haired human weaves through the crowd to the chubby, brown-haired man.
The chubby, brown-haired man gives his pair of polished obsidian dice to the sinewy, weather-worn man.
The chubby, brown-haired man says to the sinewy, weather-worn man, in sirihish:
"Throw Nahkt."
Raising a brow with a chuckle, the stocky, crooked-nose man says to the ethereal, fair-haired woman, in sirihish:
"And why is that....ahhh. Well take a seat there bardess, I will be back. "
The sleek, black-haired woman discards her red-striped granite tankard.
The tall, crop-haired human walks west.
A thin trail of musky smoke trickles from the spiral-scarred black woman's mouth as she smokes an average-looking tube of
spice.
The spiral-scarred black woman flexes unconsciously and smiles to herself.
The chubby, brown-haired man drinks horta wine from his dark glass jug.
The spiral-scarred black woman flicks the butt of her tube away, tucking a lock behind her ear.
The stocky, crooked-nose man turns slowely from the ethereal, fair-haired woman, letting his hand carress down her arm
before marching off.
The sinewy, weather-worn man turns back to the chubby, brown-haired man with a nod and jiggles his pair of polished
obsidian dice in his hand before letting them fall on the bartop.
The stocky, crooked-nose man walks west.
The sinewy, weather-worn man rolls a pair of polished obsidian dice on a small, polished wooden bar.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman nods a few times to herself as she finds a seat and sits with stiff posture.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman sits at a stone gaming table.
The chubby, brown-haired man gets his pair of polished obsidian dice from a small, polished wooden bar.
The chubby, brown-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Moose and kank..."
Leaning to watch the dice roll, the tan, choppy-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Lookin' good.."
The tall, scarred human glances back off to the western room briefly.
Looking down at the two dice sourly, the sinewy, weather-worn man says, in sirihish:
"Krath."
The chubby, brown-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Er Noose."
The sleek, black-haired woman stands up from a small, polished wooden bar.
The chubby, brown-haired man gives you his pair of polished obsidian dice.
The spiral-scarred black woman steeples her fingers under her lower lip, watching avidly.
You roll a pair of polished obsidian dice.
A pair of polished obsidian dice come up:
Knife and Lirathu
The sleek, black-haired woman staggers west.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman looks down at a stone gaming table, a slight sway in how she's sitting.
The chubby, brown-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Knice and Lirathu..."
The chubby, brown-haired man picks up a pair of polished obsidian dice.
The chubby, brown-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Knife...puts Mynkas ahead."
The chubby, brown-haired man gives his pair of polished obsidian dice to the spiral-scarred black woman.
The spiral-scarred black woman juggles her pair of polished obsidian dice in her cupped palm, giving them a kiss before
rolling them onto the bar.
The spiral-scarred black woman rolls a pair of polished obsidian dice.
At a small, polished wooden bar, the spiral-scarred black woman speaks, peering at the dice.
Grinning, the chubby, brown-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Ahh...tough roll to beat...Jihae and Lirathu..."
The chubby, brown-haired man picks up a pair of polished obsidian dice.
The tall, crop-haired human has arrived from the west.
The tan, choppy-haired man looks at the spiral-scarred black woman.
The chubby, brown-haired man gives his pair of polished obsidian dice to the tan, choppy-haired man.
The stocky, crooked-nose man has arrived from the west.
With a grin, nodding, the spiral-scarred black woman looks at the tan, choppy-haired man.
The tall, crop-haired human maneuvers over and behind a small, polished wooden bar, carrying a tray of mead.
At a small, polished wooden bar, the tan, choppy-haired man speaks, tossing his dice to the side across the bartop.
The tan, choppy-haired man rolls a pair of polished obsidian dice on a small, polished wooden bar.
Stiffly, the ethereal, fair-haired woman sits at a stone gaming table, her expression trying to look disinterested
Grinning, the chubby, brown-haired man says, in sirihish:
"And Tsenna wins..."
The chubby, brown-haired man gives his forest-camouflaged hunting quiver to the spiral-scarred black woman.
Marching over , the stocky, crooked-nose man asks the ethereal, fair-haired woman, in sirihish:
"Good, you made it too a seat. Didn't join the crowd at the bar?"
The chubby, brown-haired man gets his pair of polished obsidian dice from a small, polished wooden bar.
The sleek, black-haired woman has arrived from the west.
The chubby, brown-haired man stands up from a small, polished wooden bar.
The sleek, black-haired woman sits at a small, polished wooden bar.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman blinks, looking at her table and then over to the bar.
At a small, polished wooden bar, the tan, choppy-haired man speaks, back leaning against the bar.
At a small, polished wooden bar, the spiral-scarred black woman speaks, pumping a fist triumphantly in the air.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman says to the stocky, crooked-nose man, in sirihish:
"Oh, didn' think of it."
Gesturing, the chubby, brown-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Everyone...over to the other bar...my Cousin is going to make an announcement...now that everyone is awake."
Tucking his tray under his arm, the tall, crop-haired human moves back to the tavern room.
The tall, crop-haired human walks west.
You are already standing.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman swallows, uneasily.
You sit at a curved, agafari bar.
The adult human male takes about seven paces through a gap in the crowd to stand near the cold eyed woman.
The tan, choppy-haired man has arrived from the east, rubbing at his jaw.
As he turns his attention to her, the brutally-scarred, crimson-haired Jihaen templar asks the wasp-waisted brunette
woman, in sirihish:
"Chosen Lady, do you mind if I join you?"
Gesturing to a chair, the wasp-waisted brunette woman says to the brutally-scarred, crimson-haired Jihaen templar, in
sirihish:
"Please do, Faithful Lord."
The dirty, hair-covered half-giant has entered the world.
The brutally-scarred, crimson-haired Jihaen templar sits at a compact agafari table.
The tan, choppy-haired man steps through the room, a frown on his face.
The spiral-scarred black woman has arrived from the east, grinning.
The tan, choppy-haired man walks west.
The cold eyed woman intently scans the area.
Quietly, under the din of the gathering, the adult human male asks the cold eyed woman, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Nice party?"
The bald, full-bearded half-giant has arrived from the west.
The tall figure in a dusty hooded, brown military aba has arrived from the west.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman has arrived from the east.
The sinewy, weather-worn man has arrived from the east.
Sliding onto a stool, the sinewy, weather-worn man sits at a curved, agafari bar.
Walking next to the ethereal, fair-haired woman, the spiral-scarred black woman moves to the bar, raising her
forest-camouflaged hunting quiver proudly to the wasp-waisted brunette woman with a chuckle.
The adult human male's eyes dart almost immediately to the bald, full-bearded half-giant.
The adult human male looks up at the bald, full-bearded half-giant.
The spiral-scarred black woman sits at a curved, agafari bar.
The bald, full-bearded half-giant searches the crowd diligently with a smile.
The bald, full-bearded half-giant looks down at the adult human male.
The chubby, brown-haired man has arrived from the east.
The sinewy, weather-worn man looks up at the adult human male.
The wasp-waisted brunette woman nods to the spiral-scarred black woman with a warm smile before looking back to the
brutally-scarred, crimson-haired Jihaen templar.
At a compact agafari table, the brutally-scarred, crimson-haired Jihaen templar speaks, as he interlaces his fingers,
setting them in his lap.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman keeps a hold on the spiral-scarred black woman's arm with a quiet smile.
The sleek, black-haired woman has arrived from the east.
The stocky, crooked-nose man has arrived from the east.
Raising his voice as he heads over to a curved, agafari bar, the stocky, clean-shaven man shouts, in sirihish:
"Everybody... if you'll gather in the main room and give me your attention for -just- a bit... I have an announcement
to make!"
The spiral-scarred black woman opens a long, durrit-hide sack.
Tucking it away, the spiral-scarred black woman puts her forest-camouflaged hunting quiver into her long, durrit-hide
sack.
The adult human male averts his eyes from the bald, full-bearded half-giant.
The sleek, black-haired woman sits at a curved, agafari bar.
Sliding behind the bar with a sigh, the tall, crop-haired human takes a spot out of the way.
The spiral-scarred black woman closes a long, durrit-hide sack.
The cold eyed woman says to the adult human male, in southern-accented sirihish:
"ya it's fine"
The chubby, brown-haired man holds his dark glass jug.
The spiral-scarred black woman eats her piece of smoked meat.
To an assistant, reaching down for the fuzzy, red-streaked pup, the stocky, clean-shaven man says, in sirihish:
"Get 'im up here so people can see 'im..."
At a compact agafari table, the wasp-waisted brunette woman speaks, tapping on her red-striped granite tankard as she nods
to the brutally-scarred, crimson-haired Jihaen templar.
The sleek, black-haired woman looks up at the adult human male.
The bald, full-bearded half-giant looks down at the stocky, crooked-nose man.
The stocky, crooked-nose man marches into the room, casting his eyes about the crowd .
The dirty, hair-covered half-giant looks down at the fuzzy, red-streaked pup.
A female whore disappears into a crowd of rough-looking men and women.
The tall figure in a dusty hooded, brown military aba looks down at the fuzzy, red-streaked pup.
The spiral-scarred black woman glances over at a compact agafari table, nodding courteously to the brutally-scarred,
crimson-haired Jihaen templar.
The chubby, brown-haired man gives his dark glass jug to the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man.
The stocky, clean-shaven man helps the fuzzy, red-streaked pup up onto the bar, keeping a hand on his collar tightly.
The chubby, brown-haired man says to the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man, in sirihish:
"Here, Senior Agent...I know you like the horta."
Glancing over briefly, the sinewy, weather-worn man looks up at the tall figure in a dusty hooded, brown military aba.
The dirty, hair-covered half-giant has departed from the
The spiral-scarred black woman scoots away from the fuzzy, red-streaked pup a bit, clearing some tankards out of its way.
The tall figure in a dusty hooded, brown military aba looks down at the sinewy, weather-worn man.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman swallows, running a hand along the top of her laced lavender silk blouse as she leans
against a curved, agafari bar to listen to the stocky, clean-shaven man.
Lifting his dark glass jug with a smile of thanks to the chubby, brown-haired man, the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man says,
in sirihish:
"Just in time as always, m'friend."
The onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man drinks horta wine from his dark glass jug.
The tall, crop-haired human gets his red-striped granite tankard from a curved, agafari bar.
You discard your red-striped granite tankard.
The chubby, brown-haired man puts his pair of polished obsidian dice into his pouched belt.
At a compact agafari table, the wasp-waisted brunette woman speaks, laughing softly.
The tall, crop-haired human drinks spiced-mead from his red-striped granite tankard.
The coffee-tressed young woman sips from her red-striped granite tankard.
The stocky, crooked-nose man looks up at the ethereal, fair-haired woman.
With a nod as the room starts to quiet down, a bit, the stocky, clean-shaven man shouts, in sirihish:
"Thanks... now then! Some of you may remember what seems like Ages but was really just a few years back... we threw a
party in the Tooth a lot like this."
Putting it on the bar, the coffee-tressed young woman discards her red-striped granite tankard.
Looking around the crowd sadly, the bald, full-bearded half-giant says, in sirihish:
"Awe.. I don' see my steaks. "
At a compact agafari table, the brutally-scarred, crimson-haired Jihaen templar speaks, to the wasp-waisted brunette woman
with an easy smile, accentuating the deep lines of age on his face.
With a big smile, the tall figure in a dusty hooded, brown military aba says to the bald, full-bearded half-giant, in
southern-accented sirihish:
"Yeah me neither, big guy."
The mesh-tattooed, able-bodied male lowers the hood of a dusty hooded, brown military aba.
The onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man turns his full attention towards the stocky, clean-shaven man.
The stocky, clean-shaven man shouts, in sirihish:
"Now that's not so unusual. But back then a bright-eyed, wet-behind-the-ears Agent named Rokov jumped up on this here
bar and announced that we were throwing ourselves a huge festival down in Luir's..."
Tilting her head with a nod, the spiral-scarred black woman looks up at the mesh-tattooed, able-bodied male.
The chubby, brown-haired man chuckles.
With a wry grin, the stocky, clean-shaven man shouts, in sirihish:
"Well, I didn't learn my lesson from that... so we're doing it again!"
At a compact agafari table, the wasp-waisted brunette woman speaks, gesturing with her red-striped granite tankard,
returning the brutally-scarred, crimson-haired Jihaen templar's smile.
The adult human male shudders gently.
The coffee-tressed young woman blinks, both eyebrows rising.
The mesh-tattooed, able-bodied male nods to the spiral-scarred black woman.
The sinewy, weather-worn man gives a loud whoop and slams a fist against the bar.
The wasp-waisted brunette woman turns her attention toward the stocky, clean-shaven man.
The mesh-tattooed, able-bodied male looks down at the spiral-scarred black woman.
The adult human male notices the mesh-tattooed, able-bodied male in the crowd, a wry smirk creasing his heavily-decorated
face.
The adult human male looks at the mesh-tattooed, able-bodied male.
The bald, full-bearded half-giant looks down at the sinewy, weather-worn man.
At a compact agafari table, the brutally-scarred, crimson-haired Jihaen templar speaks, as his gaze drifts towards the
stocky, crooked-nose man.
The spiral-scarred black woman chuckles, her round-boned face turned up to the stocky, clean-shaven man.
The adult human male's eyes flicker shut for a brief moment.
The spiral-scarred black woman looks up at the adult human male.
The bald, full-bearded half-giant looks down at the fuzzy, red-streaked pup.
The tall, crop-haired human gazes quietly at the stocky, clean-shaven man and the chubby, brown-haired man over the top of
his tankard.
Nodding firmly after he watches the crowd's reaction, the stocky, clean-shaven man shouts, in sirihish:
"That's right, and it'll be bigger and better than the last one! We'll have a second World Champion Fighter tournament -- we're looking for another brave Tuluki to win it like last time..."
The tall, scarred human chuckles politely and nods in agreement with the stocky, clean-shaven man.
The chubby, brown-haired man drinks horta wine from his dark glass jug.
The cold eyed woman grins.
The stocky, crooked-nose man keeps his ears perked towards the stocky, clean-shaven man as his eyes continuously dart
about the room among the crowd.
The stocky, clean-shaven man shouts, in sirihish:
"All -kinds- of games, prizes, contests, events... more spice than you could possibly imagine... and as a very special treat, another auction in which YOU can bid for your very own Kurtok pup like Zalot here!"
The adult human male looks down at the fuzzy, red-streaked pup.
You are a little hungry.
The adult human male beams a smile at the fuzzy, red-streaked pup.
The chubby, brown-haired man takes a drink from his dark glass jug as he stands near the stocky, clean-shaven man.
The tall, crop-haired human raises an eyebrow towards the stocky, clean-shaven man.
The stocky, clean-shaven man points down at the fuzzy, red-streaked pup with a grin, who seems to be a bit confused by all
the sudden attention on him.
The sleek, black-haired woman glances down at the fuzzy, red-streaked pup.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman casts the stocky, clean-shaven man a complaiscent smile as she listens to him.
Looking down at his side, the bald, full-bearded half-giant says to the stocky, crooked-nose man, in sirihish:
"I like that pup."
The onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man laughs and raises jug to clink a few rubies from his glove against it.
The fuzzy, red-streaked pup barks a few times at nothing in particular.
Chuckling throatily, the spiral-scarred black woman says to the fuzzy, red-streaked pup, in sirihish:
"You got a lot to live up to, kid."
The adult human male studies the fuzzy, red-streaked pup, attention riveted.
The onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man laughs and raises his dark glass jug to clink a few rubies from his glove against it.
The bald, full-bearded half-giant looks down at the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man.
The cold eyed woman shakes her head at the long-limbed blue-eyed man.
The adult human male begins guarding the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man.
You notice the brutally-scarred, crimson-haired Jihaen templar glancing at the brutally-scarred, crimson-haired Jihaen
templar.
The brutally-scarred, crimson-haired Jihaen templar looks up at the fuzzy, red-streaked pup.
The coffee-tressed young woman looks up at the fuzzy, red-streaked pup.
The bald, full-bearded half-giant frowns as he scans the crowd over again.
With a laugh, the stocky, clean-shaven man shouts, in sirihish:
"And don't worry, my cousin named him after himself. I'm not the one to blame. Anyway! We'll be holding the Festival just about a year away from now... you're all invited!"
The stocky, crooked-nose man looks down at the fuzzy, red-streaked pup.
The sound of glasses clinking and light conversation reaches your ears regularly.
The spiral-scarred black woman grins to the stocky, clean-shaven man, calling out a whoop.
The stocky, clean-shaven man shouts, in sirihish:
"Though we do ask if any of our
The stocky, clean-shaven man shouts, in sirihish:
"free!"
Looking up with a grin nearly whispering, the mesh-tattooed, able-bodied male asks the bald, full-bearded half-giant, in
southern-accented sirihish:
"Who was giving you the steaks, big guy?"
The ethereal, fair-haired woman laughs into the back of one hand.
The adult human male applauds an announcement from the stocky, crooked-nose man.
Scratching his beard, the bald, full-bearded half-giant says to the mesh-tattooed, able-bodied male, in sirihish:
"Um.. Zaqar, and Ardus was supposed to give me five hundred steaks."
Smiling, the chubby, brown-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Yes...you can either plod along in Rokov's wagon...or race in mine."
Offering a showy bow, the stocky, clean-shaven man shouts, in sirihish:
"That's the news, folks... and you all are the VERY first in the world to hear it."
The mesh-tattooed, able-bodied male nods to the bald, full-bearded half-giant.
The coffee-tressed young woman looks at the stocky, clean-shaven man, then at the chubby, brown-haired man.
The chubby, brown-haired man chuckles.
Leaning foward to call out, the wasp-waisted brunette woman asks the stocky, clean-shaven man, in sirihish:
"Will there be a Tall Tales contest, Rokov-da?"
The mesh-tattooed, able-bodied male nods to the bald, full-bearded half-giant.
Grabbing it up and raising it into the air, the spiral-scarred black woman gets her red-striped granite tankard from a
curved, agafari bar.
With a grin, the chubby, brown-haired man asks the stocky, clean-shaven man, in sirihish:
"And we will be holding races, Cousin? Maybe get the sleds out?"
her Red-striped granite tankard sloshing droplets, the spiral-scarred black woman says, in sirihish:
"To Kurac, and their fine parties."
Nodding firmly, the stocky, clean-shaven man says to the wasp-waisted brunette woman, in sirihish:
"Of course, Chosen Lady. That one was one of the biggest hits last time."
The spiral-scarred black woman sips from her red-striped granite tankard.
The chubby, brown-haired man chuckles.
The slender, pitch-haired young man has arrived from the west.
The wasp-waisted brunette woman nods to the stocky, clean-shaven man with a satisfied smile as she leans back in her
chair.
Hopping down off the bar, the stocky, clean-shaven man exclaims, in sirihish:
"So get your stories ready!"
At 1) a compact agafari table are:
the brutally-scarred, crimson-haired Jihaen templar,
the wasp-waisted brunette woman, and a few empty seats.
At 2) a curved, agafari bar are:
the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man, the tall, scarred human,
the sinewy, weather-worn man, the coffee-tressed young woman,
the spiral-scarred black woman, the sleek, black-haired woman,
and one empty seat.
The sinewy, weather-worn man snatches up his red-striped granite tankard and lifts it to the spiral-scarred black woman in
salute.
The spiral-scarred black woman drinks spiced-mead from her red-striped granite tankard.
The chubby, brown-haired man gets his black silt pearl from his pouched belt.
The cold eyed woman intently scans the area.
Slurping loudly, the sinewy, weather-worn man drinks spiced-mead from his red-striped granite tankard.
You are a little hungry.
The spiral-scarred black woman puts her red-striped granite tankard onto a curved, agafari bar.
Grinning, the chubby, brown-haired man exclaims to the spiral-scarred black woman, in sirihish:
"For that fine comment...you win a pearl!"
Slamming it to the bar, the sinewy, weather-worn man discards his red-striped granite tankard.
The slender, pitch-haired young man eases his way through the crowd, pausing to nod to the wasp-waisted brunette woman
before continuing to pick a path toward a curved, agafari bar.
The spiral-scarred black woman opens a long, durrit-hide sack.
The chubby, brown-haired man gives his black silt pearl to the spiral-scarred black woman.
Carefully, the spiral-scarred black woman gets her light brown, leather instrument case from her long, durrit-hide sack.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman glances up, briefly, to the slender, pitch-haired young man as she takes in the crowds.
With a blink, examining her black silt pearl closely, the spiral-scarred black woman says to the chubby, brown-haired man,
in sirihish:
"It's gorgeous."
The long-limbed blue-eyed man opens a stained brown leather backpack.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man closes a stained brown leather backpack.
The chubby, brown-haired man says to the spiral-scarred black woman, in sirihish:
"Good...now get playing...Rokov and I need a break."
The adult human male glances around suddenly.
Tossing back her dark head to laugh, the spiral-scarred black woman says to the chubby, brown-haired man, in sirihish:
"You needn't tell me twice, Agent. My thanks."
Carefully, the spiral-scarred black woman puts her black silt pearl into her earthy leather pouched belt.
The stocky, clean-shaven man gets his red-striped granite tankard from a curved, agafari bar.
Glancing up at the bald, full-bearded half-giant, the mesh-tattooed, able-bodied male asks, in southern-accented
sirihish:
"I thought you said you were getting steaks?"
The spiral-scarred black woman gets her light-stained cunyati lute from her light brown, leather instrument case.
The spiral-scarred black woman puts her light brown, leather instrument case into her long, durrit-hide sack.
The spiral-scarred black woman closes a long, durrit-hide sack.
With a frown, the bald, full-bearded half-giant exclaims to the mesh-tattooed, able-bodied male, in sirihish:
"I thought I was too!"
The spiral-scarred black woman gets her light-gauge bone pick from her earthy leather pouched belt.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman casts the spiral-scarred black woman a half smile as she nudges her.
Settling it across her legs, glancing curiously at the mesh-tattooed, able-bodied male and the bald, full-bearded
half-giant, the spiral-scarred black woman holds her light-stained cunyati lute.
The spiral-scarred black woman brandishes her light-gauge bone pick.
The robust, head-shaven man trades a loaf of sandhog headcheese to the adult human male.
The adult human male slides a plate of food to the long-limbed blue-eyed man covertly.
The adult human male gives his loaf of sandhog headcheese to the long-limbed blue-eyed man.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man nods to the adult human male.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man takes a bite of his loaf of sandhog headcheese.
Grinning broadly to the ethereal, fair-haired woman, the spiral-scarred black woman asks, in sirihish:
"May I introduce my ravishing accompaniest, Aja?"
The long-limbed blue-eyed man eats his partially eaten loaf of sandhog headcheese.
The mesh-tattooed, able-bodied male sighs as he leans up against the bald, full-bearded half-giant's leg.
The coffee-tressed young woman gets her red-striped granite tankard from a curved, agafari bar.
The bald, full-bearded half-giant scans the crowd again, disparingly.
Lips parting with a brief surprise before smiling, the ethereal, fair-haired woman asks the spiral-scarred black woman, in
sirihish:
"... Ah, yes. What'... What do you need?"
The ethereal, fair-haired woman clears her throat softly.
Waving over to the robust, head-shaven man, the sinewy, weather-worn man says, in sirihish:
"Gimme somethin' good ta eat, Elwor."
The coffee-tressed young woman peers into her red-striped granite tankard and frowns.
At a compact agafari table, the wasp-waisted brunette woman speaks, with a smile to the brutally-scarred, crimson-haired
Jihaen templar.
The sinewy, weather-worn man gets his pile of allanaki coins from his bone-framed, double strapped coin belt.
The robust, head-shaven man trades a large stuffed and fried gourd blossom to the sinewy, weather-worn man.
Putting it back onto a curved, agafari bar, the coffee-tressed young woman discards her red-striped granite tankard.
The coffee-tressed young woman gets her red-striped granite tankard from a curved, agafari bar.
You get your pile of allanaki coins from your hooded, dun-colored dustcloak.
There were 120 coins.
It is very light.
The sinewy, weather-worn man puts his pile of allanaki coins into his bone-framed, double strapped coin belt.
Waving over to the slender, pitch-haired young man, the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man exclaims, in sirihish:
"Mika! Over here!"
The long-limbed blue-eyed man drinks water from his leather waterbelt.
The chubby, brown-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Lots of drinks, everyone...all free..."
Picking one of her light-stained cunyati lute's twelve strings, the spiral-scarred black woman says to the ethereal,
fair-haired woman, in sirihish:
"A repeating melody here, and the chorus one chord lower."
You give the robust, head-shaven man 12 obsidian coins for a bowl of tembo-eye
soup.
Dropping into a chair tiredly, the stocky, clean-shaven man sits at a curved, agafari bar.
You put your pile of allanaki coins into your hooded, dun-colored dustcloak.
The chubby, brown-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Use your tankards to hit the casks when they're gone."
You eat part of your bowl of tembo-eye soup.
You are a little hungry.
At a compact agafari table, the wasp-waisted brunette woman speaks, laughing softly.
With a smooth motion, the ethereal, fair-haired woman gets her light-stained cunyati lute from her rough canvas backpack.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman closes a rough canvas backpack.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman whispers something to the spiral-scarred black woman.
The adult human male smiles.
At a compact agafari table, the wasp-waisted brunette woman speaks, gesturing to the spiral-scarred black woman.
Nodding to the ethereal, fair-haired woman as she begins to pick a spirited, whimsical tune on her light-stained cunyati
lute, the spiral-scarred black woman says, in sirihish:
"May I present 'Roll Your Leg Over,' composed by Tsenna of Elkinhym as a commentary on the young men of Tuluk. "
----------------------------------------------
"The Tembo's Tooth" - Tavern [EWD Quit]
Smooth, sanded cylini planks have been laid across the floor of this
cramped room, their polished surface flickering in the lights of the candles. Dark stains splatter the wooden floor at odd intervals, disrupting the otherwise smooth contour of the...
Continue Reading...Not a Crimbimbal by Grey Area
Added on Aug 30, 2007In which an officer demonstrates modern law enforcement techniques and a half-giant is justifiably proud of his superior intellect.
The willowy, grey-streaked man has arrived from the north.
The vibrant, bead-tressed brunette has arrived from the north.
The Main Room of the Bard's Barrel [NSW]
A myriad of grinning skulls, each painted with bright colors laid
over the pallid bone, stare down from the broad wooden shelf that lines this
spacious room at eye level. Splashes of blue, green and red cover the clay
brick walls in an enthusiastic but inexpert abstract mural, some spatters of
the same paint dotted across the red tiled floor. The room is filled with
clamor: the clink and clatter of dishes and drinks, instruments being tuned,
scraps of song, and a general constant roar of conversation. A small wooden
stage sits along the northern wall, two ragged velvet curtains framing it,
looped back with blue-dyed ropes. A wide archway leads out onto the dusty
street, while a smaller one to the west provides a glimpse of a smaller,
quieter chamber.
A wall here is designated as a message board.
The vibrant, bead-tressed brunette is standing here.
The willowy, grey-streaked man is standing here.
The hulking, ebon-skinned half-giant looms here.
The slight, indigo-whorled woman is sitting at a boxy wooden bar.
The coffee-tressed young woman is sitting at a boxy wooden bar.
A lean, grey-eyed bard leans against the stage.
A lean, spike-haired elf drums softly in the corner.
A tall, amber-eyed woman polishes glasses behind the boxy wooden bar.
The husky, weatherworn dwarf is here, seated at a large table, drinking ale.
The huge, sun-bronzed man surveys the room casually from a table here.
The bald, muscular woman slouches at a large table, drinking ale.
The small, dark-haired man sits at a table in the back, staring into his drink.
The solemn, club-footed man limps slowly along here.
The hulking, ebon-skined half-giant begins to lick his large, sugar coated hand free.
The willowy, grey-streaked man looks down at the slight, indigo-whorled woman.
Squinting one eye, the willowy, grey-streaked man looks at you.
The vibrant, bead-tressed brunette stands in the doorway next to the willowy, grey-streaked man, a thumb hooked in her leather swordbelt.
As he continues to lick his hand, the hulking, ebon-skined half-giant looks down at the vibrant, bead-tressed brunette.
The coffee-tressed young woman shrugs.
The hulking, ebon-skined half-giant looks down at the willowy, grey-streaked man.
The willowy, grey-streaked man exhales irritably, taking a slow look around the tavern.
Pointing over at the willowy, grey-streaked man, voice rising, the hulking, ebon-skined half-giant says, in sirihish:
"Hey! You can' have your sword o... oh. Um, nevermin Paryils."
The hulking, ebon-skined half-giant begins guarding the coffee-tressed young woman.
The hulking, ebon-skined half-giant sidles a bit closer to the coffee-tressed young woman.
Amusedly, the willowy, grey-streaked man says to the hulking, ebon-skined half-giant, in sirihish:
"Exactly."
The coffee-tressed young woman gives the hulking, ebon-skined half-giant's meaty arm a pat.
With a chuckle, the scarred, ashen-haired man reaches up to pat the hulking, ebon-skined half-giant's elbow.
The willowy, grey-streaked man asks the coffee-tressed young woman, in sirihish:
"'ey there, Agent. You mind terrible if I borrow one'a yer hunters fer a moment?"
The slight, indigo-whorled woman looks up at the willowy, grey-streaked man.
With a girlish grin, the coffee-tressed young woman asks the willowy, grey-streaked man, in sirihish:
"Do I get 'em back when you're done with 'em?"
The willowy, grey-streaked man says to the coffee-tressed young woman, in sirihish:
"Jest about good as new. Promise."
Chuckling, the coffee-tressed young woman says to the willowy, grey-streaked man, in sirihish:
"Fair enough."
The scarred, ashen-haired man's teeth flash in a quick grin.
Glancing sidelong, the willowy, grey-streaked man says to the vibrant, bead-tressed brunette, in sirihish:
"Pick one."
The figure in a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak has arrived from the north.
The sinewy, weather-worn man has arrived from the north.
Looking between you and the slight, indigo-whorled woman, the vibrant, bead-tressed brunette says to the willowy, grey-streaked man, in sirihish:
"Uh, alright..."
Pointing to you, the vibrant, bead-tressed brunette says to the willowy, grey-streaked man, in sirihish:
"Maybe him. I dunno, I have no idea what this is for."
The willowy, grey-streaked man says to the vibrant, bead-tressed brunette, in sirihish:
"Right. Watch close."
The figure in a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak looks over the crowd and waves to the coffee-tressed young woman.
The vibrant, bead-tressed brunette nods to the willowy, grey-streaked man, watching him.
The scarred, ashen-haired man glances over at the vibrant, bead-tressed brunette, then the willowy, grey-streaked man.
The coffee-tressed young woman watches curiously.
The slight, indigo-whorled woman glances back over to you, brow raised.
The willowy, grey-streaked man says to you, in sirihish:
"Best not t'struggle, fella."
The willowy, grey-streaked man hastily drops a dragon-etched, obsidian saber.
The willowy, grey-streaked man subdues you, despite your attempts to struggle away.
You stop guarding the coffee-tressed young woman.
Eyes widening, the hulking, ebon-skined half-giant exclaims, in sirihish:
"HEY!"
Holding his palms up, you say, in sirihish:
"Not planning on a fight, Lieutenant."
As he tugs you from the barstool, the willowy, grey-streaked man says to the vibrant, bead-tressed brunette, in sirihish:
"Fetch m'sword."
Grabbing his arm, the coffee-tressed young woman says to the hulking, ebon-skined half-giant, in sirihish:
"It's alright."
Stepping over quickly, the vibrant, bead-tressed brunette picks up a dragon-etched, obsidian saber.
Looking increasingly alarmed, and confused, the hulking, ebon-skined half-giant asks, in sirihish:
"But! Bu.. but! It's! He won' hurt 'im?"
The sinewy, weather-worn man grimaces faintly as he watches the willowy, grey-streaked man and you and steps off to the side of the northern archway.
The figure in a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak looks at you.
The willowy, grey-streaked man says to the vibrant, bead-tressed brunette, in sirihish:
"Right. Now hold onto him."
The willowy, grey-streaked man releases you, shoving you roughly into the vibrant, bead-tressed brunette's arms.
Her eyes widening briefly as she reaches for you, the vibrant, bead-tressed brunette says to the willowy, grey-streaked man, in sirihish:
"Alright..."
The scarred, ashen-haired man lets himself be manhandled across the tavern into the vibrant, bead-tressed brunette's grasp.
Giving his arm a reasurring pat, the coffee-tressed young woman says to the hulking, ebon-skined half-giant, in sirihish:
"Nothing to worry about."
The slight, indigo-whorled woman glances from you to the coffee-tressed young woman, and then back again.
Leaning backwards against the bar, the willowy, grey-streaked man says to the vibrant, bead-tressed brunette, in sirihish:
"That there fella's a criminal. Hold him tight. Let's see yer arm lock."
The coffee-tressed young woman says to the hulking, ebon-skined half-giant, in sirihish:
"It's just practice."
Watching you, only her brown eyes visible from behind her snug, garnet-set ivory mask, the figure in a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak says to the sinewy, weather-worn man, in sirihish:
"Funny, he don't look like a criminal."
The vibrant, bead-tressed brunette takes a firm grasp of your arms, nodding to the willowy, grey-streaked man.
Dryly, you say, in sirihish:
"Sorry. I'll try to look shiftier."
The willowy, grey-streaked man stands at a boxy wooden bar.
The sinewy, weather-worn man gives a momentary grimace and then runs a gloved hand across his forehead.
Nodding firmly, the figure in a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak says to you, in sirihish:
"Yeah, ya autta Milan. Try squintin yer eyes."
Conversationally, the willowy, grey-streaked man says to the vibrant, bead-tressed brunette, in sirihish:
"Th' weak spots are his wrists an' elbows. Cross one'a his arms over th' other and press it against th' elbow."
The hulking, ebon-skined half-giant shifts nervously back and forth.
The vibrant, bead-tressed brunette shifts her grip, frowning in concentration as she pins your arm across, pressing it tight against your elbow.
The scarred, ashen-haired man grins at the figure in a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak, twitching slightly as the vibrant, bead-tressed brunette digs a finger into a sensitive spot.
Tilting her head curiously, the slight, indigo-whorled woman turns in her seat, watching closely.
Tilting his head, the willowy, grey-streaked man asks you, in sirihish:
"How'd you rate that hold, fella?"
With a passing glance, the figure in a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak looks at the short figure in a hooded, ebony cloak.
The short figure in a hooded, ebony cloak steps inside, attention immediately coming to the vibrant, bead-tressed brunette.
The hulking, ebon-skined half-giant fidgets his cream and sugar smeared hand upwards, fumbling briefly at the hilt of his long-hafted, spiked hammer before he relaxes.
Struggling futiley to move his hands, you say to the willowy, grey-streaked man, in sirihish:
"That... Ooch. Yeah, that's pretty decent."
Leaning down to the coffee-tressed young woman, in a nervous, loud whisper, the hulking, ebon-skined half-giant says, in sirihish:
"Um, some'n shoul tell th' Parilys that Firs Hunner Milan ain got no weak spots."
The willowy, grey-streaked man says to the vibrant, bead-tressed brunette, in sirihish:
"Good girl. Now if'n he tries an' struggles, yer in a good position to drop him by drivin' yer boot into th' back of his knee. Be sure you don't lose yer grip as he lowers."
Glancing over, her grip on your still firm as she stands behind you, the vibrant, bead-tressed brunette says to the willowy, grey-streaked man, in sirihish:
"You want me to do that now, sir? I don't want to hurt him."
The figure in a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak chuckles softly to herself and trods over to the hulking, ebon-skined half-giant, waving a gloved hand.
The hulking, ebon-skined half-giant chews on the tips of fingernails, watching you.
The coffee-tressed young woman gives the hulking, ebon-skined half-giant's arm a pat.
Her tone cheerful, the figure in a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak asks the hulking, ebon-skined half-giant, in sirihish:
"Hey Moorp, good ta see ya! Remember me, Sarge Tola o'Kurac?"
The willowy, grey-streaked man says to the vibrant, bead-tressed brunette, in sirihish:
"Oh, he'll fall easy enough. Don't take much pressure to do it right, and I don't reckon he'll be strugglin' either."
The big fat man has arrived from the north.
With a wince, you say to the vibrant, bead-tressed brunette, in sirihish:
"I'm, uh fine with it."
The big fat man looks at you.
Voice picking up briefly, the hulking, ebon-skined half-giant exclaims, in sirihish:
"Don' hurt him! He ain done no wrong!"
The big fat man asks, in sirihish:
"Whaa?"
The coffee-tressed young woman stands up from a boxy wooden bar.
Quietly, the vibrant, bead-tressed brunette says to you, in sirihish:
"Alright, then...hang on..."
Voice moving up in volume, the hulking, ebon-skined half-giant exclaims, in sirihish:
"Hey! He lookin more'n more like he hurtins!"
The short figure in a hooded, ebony cloak looks up at the big fat man, squinting.
The big fat man lumbers in, body jiggling.
The vibrant, bead-tressed brunette lifts a knee, pressing it into the back of your knee quickly and pushing you forward and down.
The coffee-tressed young woman says to the hulking, ebon-skined half-giant, in sirihish:
"Hey, let's go get you some fruitcake."
Calling across the room, you exclaim to the hulking, ebon-skined half-giant, in sirihish:
"I'm fine, Moorp, really... Oof!"
With a thud, the scarred, ashen-haired man drops heavily to his knees, propelled by the vibrant, bead-tressed brunette's well placed kick.
The big fat man looks at the vibrant, bead-tressed brunette.
Laughing gently and shaking her head, the figure in a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak says to the hulking, ebon-skined half-giant, in sirihish:
"Nah, he ain't hurtin'im. They're just wrasslin."
The coffee-tressed young woman says to the hulking, ebon-skined half-giant, in sirihish:
"I think Cirwen just cooked up a fresh batch."
Eyes going as wide as small plates, the hulking, ebon-skined half-giant exclaims, in sirihish:
"HEY! That wasn' very nice!!"
Grabbing onto his arm, the coffee-tressed young woman says to the hulking, ebon-skined half-giant, in sirihish:
"Moorp."
Approvingly, ignoring the hulking, ebon-skined half-giant, the willowy, grey-streaked man says to the vibrant, bead-tressed brunette, in sirihish:
"Good. You feel how easy that is? All manipulation of joints."
Lips twitching faintly, the short figure in a hooded, ebony cloak tilts her head, watching on.
The big fat man watches the vibrant, bead-tressed brunette with a frown, tapping his bone-bladed halberd to the floor as he pads around the large crowd.
The hulking, ebon-skined half-giant crushes his cream-filled pastry horn in his large hand.
The ebon-braided, flint-eyed man has arrived from the west, slipping through the oddly-angled doorway.
Bobbing her head, the figure in a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak says to the coffee-tressed young woman, in sirihish:
"Yeah. fresh food. Sounds like a real good idea."
As a huge shower of cream particles rains down around him, the hulking, ebon-skined half-giant discards his cream-filled pastry horn.
The slight, indigo-whorled woman lifts her head a bit, watching you with a raised brow and a bit of a grin.
Nodding, now half-kneeling on you, your arms behind your back, the vibrant, bead-tressed brunette says to the willowy, grey-streaked man, in sirihish:
"Yes, sir, I see that."
Pulling his arm as she starts away from the bar, the coffee-tressed young woman says to the hulking, ebon-skined half-giant, in sirihish:
"C'mon, let's go get some fruitcake."
The big fat man looks at the willowy, grey-streaked man.
Cream still dripping from his hand, not moving under the coffee-tressed young woman's guidance, the hulking, ebon-skined half-giant exclaims, in sirihish:
"They're hurtin hims!"
The short figure in a hooded, ebony cloak flicks her tongue out, catching a tiny glob of cream that lands on her cheek.
The willowy, grey-streaked man says to you, in sirihish:
"Now from here, seein' as how he's bein' a problem, you can pull him into a choke-hold and drag him back to his feet to be branged to th' jail. Try it."
The hulking, ebon-skined half-giant exclaims, in sirihish:
"Fruitcake not gonna taste good if Milan blood all over!"
The scarred, ashen-haired man winks at the hulking, ebon-skined half-giant from his kneeling position on the floor.
Tugging at his arm, the coffee-tressed young woman says to the hulking, ebon-skined half-giant, in sirihish:
"They're not hurting him."
The hulking, ebon-skined half-giant's jaw drops as he watches your face.
The coffee-tressed young woman asks the hulking, ebon-skined half-giant, in sirihish:
"Those raptors did much worse, remember?"
The big fat man looks up at the hulking, ebon-skined half-giant.
The figure in a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak looks at the big fat man.
The vibrant, bead-tressed brunette nods to the willowy, grey-streaked man, quickly moving one hand up and around your neck and beginning to pull you up as she rises.
The coffee-tressed young woman says to the hulking, ebon-skined half-giant, in sirihish:
"See, he's alright."
The sleepy-eyed, ebon-tressed woman has arrived from the south.
Immediately perking up, beaming brightly down at the coffee-tressed young woman, the hulking, ebon-skined half-giant exclaims, in sirihish:
"See! He's jokin! I told jas! Firs Hunner ain got no weak spots!"
Watching the vibrant, bead-tressed brunette with his arms crossed before him, the sinewy, weather-worn man says to the hulking, ebon-skined half-giant, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Don' worry. Ah'm sure Milan could put up a much better fight than this if he had the urge."
The sleepy-eyed, ebon-tressed woman looks up at the big fat man.
The willowy, grey-streaked man asks the vibrant, bead-tressed brunette, in sirihish:
"There y'are. You see how it's done?"
The scarred, ashen-haired man is dragged bonelessly to his feet.
Quickly glancing around at the crowd before looking back to him, holding you in a chokehold now, the vibrant, bead-tressed brunette says to the willowy, grey-streaked man, in sirihish:
"Yes, sir."
The willowy, grey-streaked man says to the vibrant, bead-tressed brunette, in sirihish:
"Good enough. You can let 'im go now. Turns out he ain't a criminal after all."
The vibrant, bead-tressed brunette releases you, and you immediately move away.
The sleepy-eyed, ebon-tressed woman sits at a boxy wooden bar.
The figure in a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak slaps her palms together in applause.
The big fat man clucks at the vibrant, bead-tressed brunette like a jozhal.
The willowy, grey-streaked man taps two fingers on the bartop, glancing over at the tall, amber-eyed woman.
The tow-headed, pallid young woman has arrived from the north.
Rubbing his throat as he finds his feet again, you say, in sirihish:
"That sure is a relief."
With a wide smile as she takes her hands from you, the vibrant, bead-tressed brunette says to you, in sirihish:
"Thanks, Milan."
The tall, amber-eyed woman trades a miniature barrel to the willowy, grey-streaked man.
The coffee-tressed young woman looks up at the big fat man.
The short figure in a hooded, ebony cloak gently tugs her hood down further to hide her face, idling at the entrance.
Sliding it across the bartop, the willowy, grey-streaked man gives you his miniature barrel.
With a snort, finally moving towards the coffee-tressed young woman, the hulking, ebon-skined half-giant says, in sirihish:
"Hmph. Paryl ain so smart as Moorp. Moorp knew he wasn' a crimbimbal all th' time."
The willowy, grey-streaked man has arrived from the north.
The vibrant, bead-tressed brunette has arrived from the north.
The Main Room of the Bard's Barrel [NSW]
A myriad of grinning skulls, each painted with bright colors laid
over the pallid bone, stare down from the broad wooden shelf that...
Continue Reading...Daphine by Foolash
Added on Aug 30, 2007This is a portrait for one of my characters. Yes it is rough. And unclean. Like me! Enjoy.
Over the Grasses by Apocalyptic_Cow
Added on Aug 28, 2007For the the first artwork contest, the Scrublands region. A view from grassy lowlands to barren hills in the distance.
Gortok Encounter by Biscuits
Added on Aug 28, 2007Winner of Artwork Contest #1: Scrublands.
Lady Lapitia Fale and whatsit Breezy by Bast
Added on Aug 27, 2007This looks massively better in person
I would like to so a Borsail pic next but have no good submits from any former PC nobles. Would really like to do Prian if anyone 
Rough Fale by Bast
Added on Aug 27, 2007This is the blue sketch for the Fale pic. Felt like sharing
Guilder by Grey Area
Added on Aug 21, 2007A denizen of the Labyrinth. Character portrait for mansa
Legends of the Fist by Biscuits
Added on Aug 20, 2007Pendeh and Shatuka, off duty but always deadly.
Boredom by bast
Added on Aug 7, 2007tee hee....i have nothing to say here
Gin by bast
Added on Aug 7, 2007Char pic of Gin by player request
A Burial at Sea by manonfire
Added on Aug 2, 2007Read on.
Our hero, Krok, is going about business as usual - clearing the road from Red Storm to Allanak of pesky scrabs and beetles. Another normal day, until..
Windy Plains [NESW]
A strong wind out of the south is the prevailing force on these plains,
and it has left its mark. The ground here is flat, save for mottled clumps
of red dirt, which the winds scatter about continually. Legend holds that
the area once supported abundant flora and fauna; today, only a few thorny
plants, growing in tiny crevices in the ground, are all that remain. Red
dust accumulates on the southern side of these remnants of times past.
The body of the wiry, grey-tan mul lies crumpled on the sands.
A dusty gray wooden sword with obsidian edges lies here.
A dusty angled, obsidian blade with a bone handle has been carelessly dropped here.
A silt-colored kank stands here clacking its pincers.
A glossy, black-scaled inix has arrived from the south.
Glancing down at the body of the wiry, grey-tan mul, you say, in sirihish:
"Uh oh."
You pick up the body of the wiry, grey-tan mul.
It is manageable, and full.
You sling a bloodied massive, spiked club across your back.
Windy Plains [NESW]
A strong wind out of the south is the prevailing force on these plains,
and it has left its mark. The ground here is flat, save for mottled clumps
of red dirt, which the winds scatter about continually. Legend holds that
the area once supported abundant flora and fauna; today, only a few thorny
plants, growing in tiny crevices in the ground, are all that remain. Red
dust accumulates on the southern side of these remnants of times past.
Just to the south, a village with high stone walls rises out of the
windswept plains.
A glossy, black-scaled inix has arrived from the north.
Before Sand Gate [NS]
The northern gate of Red Storm Village stands here, a heavy
construction of hard, pale grey styrax wood. The gate is set back slightly
in the grey stone walls, providing a little shelter from the fierce winds
even when it is closed. A beige canvas tarpaulin soars overhead, suspended
some twenty cords above the ground by styrax beams, to provide additional
cover. The sunlight filters through the reddish-brown dust with difficulty.
The thin, raven-haired soldier is sitting here.
A glossy, black-scaled inix has arrived from the north.
Sparse sands blow across your path.
Inside Sand Gate [NESW]
The northern gate of Red Storm Village stands here, a heavy construction
of hard, pale grey styrax wood. The ancient grey stone walls of the village
lead off to the east and west from here, and just inside them runs a rocky
perimeter road. Vast beige canvas tarpaulins soar high above, suspended
from beams of pale grey styrax wood to provide some shelter.
Warehouses and crafting halls lie to the southeast and the southwest,
separated by an assortment of narrow alleys and slightly broader streets.
The sounds of saw on wood, chisel on stone, and other crafting activities
can be heard from all around. Cloaked villagers walk quickly along the
road, carefully avoiding eye contact with anyone.
The bleak-faced grey soldier stands here, keeping watch over the area.
The dusty-red mulish soldier watches the travelers passing by here.
A glossy, black-scaled inix has arrived from the north.
Fury's Road [NS]
This broad rock road runs from north to south through the heart of Red
Storm Village. It follows the slope of a valley, dipping to its lowest near
the center of the village, and appears to have been smoothed with years of
passage by wagons and passersby alike. Small streets lead off to the east
and west, sloping upwards as they do so. Vast beige tarpaulins suspended
from styrax beams reach out from the buildings on either side of the road,
providing some degree of shelter from the fierce winds.
Warehouses and crafting halls lie to the east and west, separated by an
assortment of narrow alleys and slightly broader streets. The sounds of
saw on wood, chisel on stone, and other crafting activities can be heard
from all around. Cloaked villagers walk quickly along the road, carefully
avoiding eye contact with anyone.
A glossy, black-scaled inix has arrived from the north.
You think:
"Poor mul. Wonder what hit him?"
Fury's Road [NESW]
This broad rock road runs from north to south through the heart of Red
Storm Village. It follows the slope of a valley, dipping to its lowest near
the center of the village, and appears to have been smoothed with years of
passage by wagons and passersby alike. Small streets lead off to the east
and west, sloping upwards as they do so. Vast beige tarpaulins suspended
from styrax beams reach out from the buildings on either side of the road,
providing some degree of shelter from the fierce winds.
A large fenced yard lies to the east, and several kanks and other types
of mounts and beasts of burden are visible inside it. To the west lies a
vast, flat yard, and the road bears evidence of frequent wagon travel to
and from that direction. Cloaked villagers walk quickly along the road,
carefully avoiding eye contact with anyone as they move between any mounts
being ridden here.
The elderly, white-haired woman walks here, smiling as she looks around.
A glossy, black-scaled inix has arrived from the north.
Kank Yard [EW]
This large yard is bordered to the north and south by a number of large
warehouses and crafting halls. The area here is thick with red dust; the
vast tarpaulins that shelter most of the village do not provide as much
cover over the large open area here. Several dozen kanks, war beetles, and
other beasts of burden mill about in pens and stalls partitioned by styrax
wood fences.
Travelers from afar walk around the pens, examining and purchasing
mounts to suit their requirements. A detachment of village militia keeps a
vigilant watch over proceedings.
The burly, brown-bearded man stands here, shouting out prices for mounts.
A glossy, black-scaled inix has arrived from the west.
Sparse sands blow across your path.
Village Stables [W]
The stables here are built from stout planks of pale grey styrax wood,
carefully fashioned so that the area here is minimally exposed to the harsh
elements outside. Several pens and stalls are partitioned off around the
interior of this building, providing shelter for several mounts. A small
detachment of village militia keeps watch over the area here.
The black dwarven soldier stands here impassively, watching.
The robust, one-eyed soldier is here, keeping watch over the area.
The dusty, grey-haired half-elf stands here, looking over the mounts.
A glossy, black-scaled inix has arrived from the west.
You store a glossy, black-scaled inix in the stables.
The dusty, grey-haired half-elf says, in sirihish:
"Here is your ticket. It'll be 20 coins to retrieve it when you return."
You put your worn leather ticket into your leather swordbelt.
You think:
"Should give that to Boss Oban. He might like it."
Kank Yard [EW]
This large yard is bordered to the north and south by a number of large
warehouses and crafting halls. The area here is thick with red dust; the
vast tarpaulins that shelter most of the village do not provide as much
cover over the large open area here. Several dozen kanks, war beetles, and
other beasts of burden mill about in pens and stalls partitioned by styrax
wood fences.
Travelers from afar walk around the pens, examining and purchasing
mounts to suit their requirements. A detachment of village militia keeps a
vigilant watch over proceedings.
The burly, brown-bearded man stands here, shouting out prices for mounts.
Sparse sands blow across your path.
Fury's Road [NESW]
This broad rock road runs from north to south through the heart of Red
Storm Village. It follows the slope of a valley, dipping to its lowest near
the center of the village, and appears to have been smoothed with years of
passage by wagons and passersby alike. Small streets lead off to the east
and west, sloping upwards as they do so. Vast beige tarpaulins suspended
from styrax beams reach out from the buildings on either side of the road,
providing some degree of shelter from the fierce winds.
A large fenced yard lies to the east, and several kanks and other types
of mounts and beasts of burden are visible inside it. To the west lies a
vast, flat yard, and the road bears evidence of frequent wagon travel to
and from that direction. Cloaked villagers walk quickly along the road,
carefully avoiding eye contact with anyone as they move between any mounts
being ridden here.
The elderly, white-haired woman walks here, smiling as she looks around.
You are carrying:
a dusty bone-handled, obsidian hawkblade
a dusty obsidian-edged grey sword
the body of the wiry, grey-tan mul
the body of a large black beetle
You think:
"Mul has lots of nice things. I should get them for Oban."
..Krok goes through the body, collecting items of that might be of value for "Boss Oban" and shoves them into the chest.
Scratching his cheek, you ask, in sirihish:
"What should I do with him, then?"
Kuraci Barracks [E Quit Save]
This medium-sized room has polished, dark brown wooden walls on three
sides and a grey stone wall on the fourth side. A few high, narrow windows
are set in the stone wall, letting in some sunlight. Some empty brackets
along the stone wall show where torches could be set at night to provide
light to the area. The room is fairly sparse, with cots arranged in neat
rows being the main type of furniture present. To the east, the room opens
up into a small hall.
The body of the wiry, grey-tan mul lies crumpled on the floor.
The body of a large black beetle lies crumpled on the floor.
The body of an insect-like scrab lies crumpled on the floor.
A tregil-carved wooden chest sits here.
A green footlocker sits at the foot of the bed.
A large bone-framed painting hangs near the weapon rack and armor crate.
A red footlocker sits at the foot of the bed.
A small chart detailing caravan status is here, set onto a wall.
A massive baobab strongbox rests in one corner here.
A simple wooden chest are here, stacked up together.
A purple footlocker sits at the foot of the bed.
A skull-carved wooden chest sits here.
A narrow-eyed, bald half-elf sits on a cot.
You think:
"When Pops died I put dirt on him. Maybe I should put dirt on him?"
You pick up the body of the wiry, grey-tan mul.
It is light, and empty.
The immense, jet-striped half-giant hefts your body of the wiry, grey-tan mul upwards, tossing the corpse over a shoulder.
..Krok leaves the Kuraci barracks, corpse in tow, intent on burying the body.
Sparse sands blow across your path.
Fury's Road [NESW]
This broad rock road runs from north to south through the heart of Red
Storm Village. It follows the slope of a valley, dipping to its lowest near
the center of the village, and appears to have been smoothed with years of
passage by wagons and passersby alike. Small streets lead off to the east
and west, sloping upwards as they do so. Vast beige tarpaulins suspended
from styrax beams reach out from the buildings on either side of the road,
providing some degree of shelter from the fierce winds.
A large fenced yard lies to the east, and several kanks and other types
of mounts and beasts of burden are visible inside it. To the west lies a
vast, flat yard, and the road bears evidence of frequent wagon travel to
and from that direction. Cloaked villagers walk quickly along the road,
carefully avoiding eye contact with anyone as they move between any mounts
being ridden here.
A silt-colored kank stands here, carrying the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak on his back.
The elderly, white-haired woman walks here, smiling as she looks around.
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak looks up at you.
The brown-haired, weathered woman has arrived from the east.
Waving cheerfully, you exclaim to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
"Hi!"
Fury's Road [NESW]
This broad rock road runs from north to south through the heart of Red
Storm Village. It follows the slope of a valley, dipping to its lowest near
the center of the village, and appears to have been smoothed with years of
passage by wagons and passersby alike. Small streets lead off to the east
and west, sloping upwards as they do so. Vast beige tarpaulins suspended
from styrax beams reach out from the buildings on either side of the road,
providing some degree of shelter from the fierce winds.
A large fenced yard lies to the east, and several kanks and other types
of mounts and beasts of burden are visible inside it. To the west lies a
vast, flat yard, and the road bears evidence of frequent wagon travel to
and from that direction. Cloaked villagers walk quickly along the road,
carefully avoiding eye contact with anyone as they move between any mounts
being ridden here.
The brown-haired, weathered woman is standing here.
A silt-colored kank stands here, carrying the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak on his back.
The elderly, white-haired woman walks here, smiling as she looks around.
You are carrying:
the body of the wiry, grey-tan mul
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak asks you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Hello there, Did you come in from the sands my friend?"
Glancing up with wide eyes, the brown-haired, weathered woman looks up at you.
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak looks at the brown-haired, weathered woman.
Nodding emphatically, you say to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
"Yep! About to go back and put dirt on him."
The immense, jet-striped half-giant shifts your body of the wiry, grey-tan mul atop his shoulder.
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Can you take me with you, he was a close friend of mine."
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"I want to help."
Pointing northwards, nodding sharply, you ask the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
"Okay. I think they close the gates when it gets dark - We can wait until morning?"
You are carrying:
the body of the wiry, grey-tan mul
It is dusk on Nekrete, the 71st day of the Ascending Sun,
In the Year of Lirathu's Defiance, year 33 of the 21st Age.
The brown-haired, weathered woman picks a way around you, giving you a wide berth.
The brown-haired, weathered woman walks south.
Nodding, the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"That will be fine, I got his call for help when I was way up in Tuluk, I see I'm far too late."
Frowning deeply, you ask the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
"Oh no. I think a beetle might have ate parts of him.. What was his name?"
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak asks you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Was his sword with him? Ah it was Kemen, He had a family, you can take what you need its the way of the sands, but was there anything lefT?"
You think:
"Hmmm.. Oban says he gets stuff I get from the sands.."
The brown-haired, weathered woman has arrived from the west.
You think:
"I better not tell him everything."
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak sighs, slumping heavily in his saddle.
Glancing up as she walks past, the brown-haired, weathered woman looks at the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak.
After a moment, nodding, you say to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
"Yep! He had a sword and a Whira-cover.. I put them in the comp-pound."
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak asks you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Compound?"
Nodding sharply, you ask the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
"The Cure-ack comp-pound. Want me to get it for you?"
Nodding, the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Yes please, I need to return those to his family and adopted son. I got to give them the bad news."
Cheerfully, beaming a bright smile, you exclaim to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
"Okay! Stay here!"
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"I will."
..Krok heads back to the "comp-pound" and fetches the weapons and cloak, leaving the other items behind for his boss. Tricky giant!
Hefting your body of the wiry, grey-tan mul upwards, resting it upon a massive shoulder, you say to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
"Found them! Right where I left them."
You are carrying:
a dusty hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak
a dusty bone-handled, obsidian hawkblade
a dusty curved, yellowed bone longsword
the body of the wiry, grey-tan mul
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak looks up from slumping in his saddle with a faint smile to you.
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"That's good."
Passing over a pair of swords, you give your dusty bone-handled, obsidian hawkblade to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak.
Passing over a pair of swords, you give your dusty curved, yellowed bone longsword to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak.
Holding your dusty hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak aloft, you ask the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
"And his Whira-cover. You want that too?"
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak takes the offered swords with reverance, moving them towards his bone-studded backpack.
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Yes please, anything you didn't need for yourself."
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak puts his dusty curved, yellowed bone longsword into his bone-studded backpack.
Passing over your dusty hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak, frowning, you say to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
"Not much carried. This was all I found."
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak nods.
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"He wasn't a rich person."
Passing over a wadded batch of brown sandcloth, you give your dusty hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak.
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak nods and folds his dusty hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak, sliding it along the swords into his bone-studded backpack.
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak puts his dusty hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak into his bone-studded backpack.
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak looks up at you.
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak asks you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"You are with Kurac?"
Holding your body of the wiry, grey-tan mul aloft by an arm, you say to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
"Pops is dead, too."
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak winces and frowns nodding sadly towards you.
Nodding, smiling brightly, you say to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
"Yep! I work for Oban - He tells me to clear the road. Clear to the rock!"
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Ah, a coincidence, Just this week I was up in Tuluk to try and join with Kurac, then My friend called me."
Slumping again in his saddle, the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"I was too late."
After a moment's pause, you ask the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
"I was gonna throw dirt on him near the shit-sea. You think we should throw it on him somewhere else?"
Curiously, you look down at the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak.
This slight wiry man stands before you, his skin a dark tan and pulled
tight across his frame, slight muscles can be seen rippling beneath the
surface. Wild savage brown hair falls from his head to about his chin.
Pale purple eyes peer out from under a thin browline. His sharp angled face
a mess of tiny scars. Though broad shouldered he is not massive, his torso
tapering off to a lean waist, from which long lean legs support this man.
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak is in excellent condition.
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak is using:
<worn on head> a dusty chitin-plated leather helmet
<worn around neck> an used dusty dark leather collar
<worn across back> a dusty double-layered sandcloth pack
<worn on arms> an used pair of dark leather sleeves
<worn around body> a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak
<worn on legs> an used pair of dark leather leggings
<worn on feet> an used dusty pair of chitin-plated leather boots
He is carrying:
nothing obvious
Shaking his head, the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak asks you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"No, he always wanted to be thrown into the sea, I knew I could never do that, but maybe you could?"
Chewing on his bottom lip, you say to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
"Maybe. I start to fall into Ruk if I walk too far. Pops said the sea will take whatever sits on the shore."
Nodding, the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"I don't want to risk your life, We can bury him."
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak looks at the brown-haired, weathered woman.
Brow furrowed with intense concentration, you exclaim to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
"We can.. bury him -near- the shit sea! I won't sink into Ruk, and the sea will take him!"
With beaming satisfaction, you ask the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
"That way he'll be happy in Drov! Think?"
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Alright, though he was part of a tribe as well, He was a strange mul, I need one more thing from him before we can bury him. I need to take his head back to his tribe, so they can turn it into a grave marker for him."
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"I hope so, I know he was too young for this though."
Nodding slowly, you ask the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
"Okay. You want to cut?"
The immense, jet-striped half-giant holds your body of the wiry, grey-tan mul before himself, the corpse dangling from a held arm.
Nodding with a frown, the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Alright."
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak swings his legs to the side and dismounts.
You drop the body of the wiry, grey-tan mul. Shown to the room as:
The body of the wiry, grey-tan mul lies crumped in a heap on the dusty road.
Fury's Road [NESW]
This broad rock road runs from north to south through the heart of Red
Storm Village. It follows the slope of a valley, dipping to its lowest near
the center of the village, and appears to have been smoothed with years of
passage by wagons and passersby alike. Small streets lead off to the east
and west, sloping upwards as they do so. Vast beige tarpaulins suspended
from styrax beams reach out from the buildings on either side of the road,
providing some degree of shelter from the fierce winds.
A large fenced yard lies to the east, and several kanks and other types
of mounts and beasts of burden are visible inside it. To the west lies a
vast, flat yard, and the road bears evidence of frequent wagon travel to
and from that direction.
The body of the wiry, grey-tan mul lies crumped in a heap on the dusty road.
A silt-colored kank stands here clacking its pincers.
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak is standing here.
The elderly, white-haired woman walks here, smiling as she looks around.
The immense, jet-striped half-giant crouches near the body of the wiry, grey-tan mul, watching the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak curiously.
As he steps over towards body, the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says, in an unfamiliar tongue:
"xau yye eulq moun al lbay niiw wuiyqn."
A silt-colored kank rubs its mandibles together.
Lips pursed thoughtfully, the immense, jet-striped half-giant watches the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak with piqued interest.
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak crouches down taking his dusty bone-handled, obsidian hawkblade from his bone-studded backpack, lifting it above his head, with a stifled sniffle he brings his dusty bone-handled, obsidian hawkblade down.
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak brandishes his dusty bone-handled, obsidian hawkblade.
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak removes the head from the body of the wiry, grey-tan mul.
Fury's Road [NESW]
This broad rock road runs from north to south through the heart of Red
Storm Village. It follows the slope of a valley, dipping to its lowest near
the center of the village, and appears to have been smoothed with years of
passage by wagons and passersby alike. Small streets lead off to the east
and west, sloping upwards as they do so. Vast beige tarpaulins suspended
from styrax beams reach out from the buildings on either side of the road,
providing some degree of shelter from the fierce winds.
A large fenced yard lies to the east, and several kanks and other types
of mounts and beasts of burden are visible inside it. To the west lies a
vast, flat yard, and the road bears evidence of frequent wagon travel to
and from that direction.
The head of the wiry, grey-tan mul lies here.
The headless body of the wiry, grey-tan mul lies crumped in a heap on the dusty road.
A silt-colored kank stands here clacking its pincers.
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak is standing here.
The elderly, white-haired woman walks here, smiling as she looks around.
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak picks up the head of the wiry, grey-tan mul.
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak frowns tears spilling down his cheeks briefly as he holds his head of the wiry, grey-tan mul.
The immense, jet-striped half-giant flinches slightly at the moment of decapitation.
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak stops using his dusty bone-handled, obsidian hawkblade.
It is before dawn on Waleuk, the 72nd day of the Ascending Sun,
In the Year of Lirathu's Defiance, year 33 of the 21st Age.
The immense, jet-striped half-giant bends, scooping up the headless body of the wiry, grey-tan mul in both arms.
You pick up the headless body of the wiry, grey-tan mul.
It is light, and empty.
Standing he wipes his tears, composing himself, the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says, in an unfamiliar tongue:
"rst aowemm runu."
His face softening with empathy, you say to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
"Sorry over your friend. "
Nodding briefly, the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak asks you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Its alright, how many others know he is dead?"
Shrugging mildly, you say to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
"Don't know. I saw feet in Ruk around his body, so maybe someone."
Nodding, the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Alright, lets not tell anyone, its not their way."
Frowning as he looks down at his head of the wiry, grey-tan mul, closing the eyes on it, the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"It's a damn shame."
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak puts his head of the wiry, grey-tan mul into his bone-studded backpack.
Sparing a glance to your headless body of the wiry, grey-tan mul, dipping his head, you say to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
"Okay. I can keep silences."
Smiling faintly with another nod, the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"I may have just met you but you're a good friend Krok. Now we just need to wait for dawn."
The giant crimson sun rises in the east.
The red moon, Jihae, moves with ponderous grace from the sky, setting.
The white moon, Lirathu, moves with slow grace from the sky, as it sets.
Lifting his jutted chin upwards, peering at the brightening sky, you say, in sirihish:
"There he is."
You are carrying:
the headless body of the wiry, grey-tan mul
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak nods.
The immense, jet-striped half-giant settles your headless body of the wiry, grey-tan mul on his shoulder, beckoning to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak.
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak falls in behind you.
..heading towards the sea
Over a shoulder, you say to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
"Might need to get stabbers and thumpers. Pissy things out here."
You unsling a bloodied massive, spiked club from your back.
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak brandishes his dusty bone-handled, obsidian hawkblade.
Sea's Edge [NESW]
The wind sweeps around this sandy shore, marking the beginning of the
Sea of Eternal Dust. A vast expanse of silt spreads outward. The dust from
the sea rises up into the air with the slightest breeze, caking whatever it
lands on with a thin layer. Only a tiny amount of light from the darkened
sky pierces the thick clouds of dust hanging in the air. The sand shifts
and moves easily, and would obviously be difficult, if not perilous, to walk
on.
To the south, a wooden dock is barely visible through the continually
swirling haze.
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak has arrived from the north.
A silt-colored kank has arrived from the north.
Pausing, you say to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
"I think here is good, yeah? Throw dirt and shit on him, Ruk will take him into the sea."
The immense, jet-striped half-giant shifts uneasily, his feet sinking into the soft ground.
Nodding solemly, the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Looks good, lets make it fast though, we don't need Ruk taking more then what we offer."
The immense, jet-striped half-giant nods, shifting your headless body of the wiry, grey-tan mul off his shoulder.
You drop the headless body of the wiry, grey-tan mul, which is swallowed up by the silt.
The headless body of the wiry, grey-tan mul lies crumpled here.
Sea's Edge [NESW]
The wind sweeps around this sandy shore, marking the beginning of the
Sea of Eternal Dust. A vast expanse of silt spreads outward. The dust from
the sea rises up into the air with the slightest breeze, caking whatever it
lands on with a thin layer. Only a tiny amount of light from the darkened
sky pierces the thick clouds of dust hanging in the air. The sand shifts
and moves easily, and would obviously be difficult, if not perilous, to walk
on.
To the south, a wooden dock is barely visible through the continually
swirling haze.
The headless body of the wiry, grey-tan mul lies crumpled here.
A silt-colored kank stands here clacking its pincers.
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak is standing here.
The immense, jet-striped half-giant crouches, gathering up two massive handfuls of mixed sand and silt.
The immense, jet-striped half-giant tosses a few handfuls of sand onto the headless body of the wiry, grey-tan mul.
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak crouches down scooping up sand with his dusty bone-handled, obsidian hawkblade to move it over the headless body of the wiry, grey-tan mul.
You arrange the headless body of the wiry, grey-tan mul.
Shown to the room as:
The headless body of the wiry, grey-tan mul lies crumpled here, half buried in sand.
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says, in an unfamiliar tongue:
"muoe oqesumn yw moo qumc eo leojy mooivo."
The immense, jet-striped half-giant shoves a pile of sand onto the headless body of the wiry, grey-tan mul, covering the legs.
Sea's Edge [NESW]
The wind sweeps around this sandy shore, marking the beginning of the
Sea of Eternal Dust. A vast expanse of silt spreads outward. The dust from
the sea rises up into the air with the slightest breeze, caking whatever it
lands on with a thin layer. Only a tiny amount of light from the darkened
sky pierces the thick clouds of dust hanging in the air. The sand shifts
and moves easily, and would obviously be difficult, if not perilous, to walk
on.
To the south, a wooden dock is barely visible through the continually
swirling haze.
The headless body of the wiry, grey-tan mul lies crumpled here, half buried in sand.
A silt-colored kank stands here clacking its pincers.
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak is standing here.
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak leans back down using his dusty bone-handled, obsidian hawkblade to settle more sand over the headless body of the wiry, grey-tan mul.
You arrange the headless body of the wiry, grey-tan mul.
Shown to the room as:
The headless body of the wiry, grey-tan mul lies crumpled here, buried nearly entirely in the sands.
Sea's Edge [NESW]
The wind sweeps around this sandy shore, marking the beginning of the
Sea of Eternal Dust. A vast expanse of silt spreads outward. The dust from
the sea rises up into the air with the slightest breeze, caking whatever it
lands on with a thin layer. Only a tiny amount of light from the darkened
sky pierces the thick clouds of dust hanging in the air. The sand shifts
and moves easily, and would obviously be difficult, if not perilous, to walk
on.
To the south, a wooden dock is barely visible through the continually
swirling haze.
The headless body of the wiry, grey-tan mul lies crumpled here, buried nearly entirely in the sands.
A silt-colored kank stands here clacking its pincers.
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak is standing here.
Straightening up, brushing dust and sand from his hands, you say to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
"Ruk should take him into the sea."
Sea's Edge [NESW]
The wind sweeps around this sandy shore, marking the beginning of the
Sea of Eternal Dust. A vast expanse of silt spreads outward. The dust from
the sea rises up into the air with the slightest breeze, caking whatever it
lands on with a thin layer. Only a tiny amount of light from the darkened
sky pierces the thick clouds of dust hanging in the air. The sand shifts
and moves easily, and would obviously be difficult, if not perilous, to walk
on.
To the south, a wooden dock is barely visible through the continually
swirling haze.
The headless body of the wiry, grey-tan mul lies crumpled here, buried nearly entirely in the sands.
A silt-colored kank stands here clacking its pincers.
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak is standing here.
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak nods slowly, watching the wind drift the sand over the headless body of the wiry, grey-tan mul.
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak jumps up onto a silt-colored kank's back.
Sea's Edge [NESW]
The wind sweeps around this sandy shore, marking the beginning of the
Sea of Eternal Dust. A vast expanse of silt spreads outward. The dust from
the sea rises up into the air with the slightest breeze, caking whatever it
lands on with a thin layer. Only a tiny amount of light from the darkened
sky pierces the thick clouds of dust hanging in the air. The sand shifts
and moves easily, and would obviously be difficult, if not perilous, to walk
on.
To the south, a wooden dock is barely visible through the continually
swirling haze.
The headless body of the wiry, grey-tan mul lies crumpled here, buried nearly entirely in the sands.
A silt-colored kank stands here, carrying the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak on his back.
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Thank you friend, lets get back to town before a storm breaks out or the sea feels like taking us."
You nod to him.
..the pair head back to town.
The immense, jet-striped half-giant pauses, turning to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak.
The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak clicks once towards a silt-colored kank looking towards you.
Palming his clean-shaven head, you say to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
"Krok is tired and sad for your friend."
Lifting his chin, deep brown eyes glittering, you say to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
"I hope the sea finds him."
A silt-colored kank makes a bleating noise and moves its head from side to side.
Nodding, the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"And my journey is still not at an end, I have to go to his tribe and family to deliever his swords and the news. My name is Rychque if you ever need anything friend."
Jaw agape for a moment, you ask the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
"Rych.. k.. what?"
Chuckling softly, the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Ah, Slip will do fine then."
Beaming a brightl smile, you say to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
"Slip. Easy to say."
Waving to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, you exclaim, in sirihish:
"Bye Slip! Luck of the spice!"
Waving, the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Shade to you friend."
A silt-colored kank walks north, carrying the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak on his back.
You sling a bloodied massive, spiked club across your back.
You think:
"Did a good thing, and kept some things for Master Oban."
The immense, jet-striped half-giant glances at a tregil-carved wooden chest surreptitiously, grinning.
You think:
"For Oban."
Slumping against the wall, wrappings his arms around his legs, you sit down and rest your tired bones.
Come back soon!
Our hero, Krok, is going about business as usual - clearing the road from Red Storm to Allanak of pesky scrabs and beetles. Another normal day, until..
Windy Plains [NESW]
A strong wind out of the south is the prevailing force on these plains,
and it has left its mark. The ground here is...
Continue Reading...Grudge Match by Laurajlmars
Added on Jul 22, 2007A Borsail noble, canny of the growing animosity between his two girly, girly aides, pits them against one another in the Wyvern's sparring ring.
The Grey Room [S Save]
The black-mortared stone walls of this spacious room have been covered
in thick tapestries of serene grey. Upon each tapestry, a simple crimson
outline of the Borsail wyvern design looks out over the room. On the cool
obsidian floor several wooden benches have been arranged around a raised
platform. A simple weapons rack stands between two cloth-stuffed dummies in
the northern corner and a row of wooden footlockers lines the southern wall.
The chiseled, mercurial-tressed man is standing here.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman is standing here.
A sand-filled sparring dummy is standing here, rigid and unmoving.
A sand-filled sparring dummy swings to and fro on its rope.
The slim, milk-skinned redhead looks up at a sand-filled sparring dummy sadly.
Sauntering into the expansive chamber, the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man says, in sirihish:
"Ah, here we are."
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman flinches slightly as she nears a sand-filled sparring dummy, eyes darting to follow the movement for a moment, as if briefly hypnotised.
Pulling your fine, wide-brimmed hat from her head and loosening her bangles on her wrist, you say to the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man, in sirihish:
"So we are, my Lord."
This young, human woman appears to be in her late teens, with a slender
build and shapely limbs. Her hair, which waxes towards a bright auburn hue
of burnished red, is most often swept neatly in a thick pile atop her crown
with some ornamental device or another. When free, it slinks in sleek
tousles, falling halfway down her back. Thick bangs sweep sidelong over her
high forehead, brushing the tops of her wide-set, dark blue eyes. Skin the
creamy, pale color of milk graces her sleight build, its surface even and
unscarred by wind, sun, or any other hardship. A faint bridge of freckles
marks her high cheekbones and straight nose, beneath which sits an
expressive mouth.
The slim, milk-skinned redhead is in excellent condition.
<worn on head> a fine, wide-brimmed hat
<worn in hair> an elaborate wooden comb
<worn in left ear> an earring of glittering black glass
<worn in right ear> an earring of glittering black glass
<worn around neck> a grey silk, sapphire-set choker
<worn around wrist> a blackened moonstone-set ceramic bangle
<worn around wrist> a blackened moonstone-set ceramic bangle
<worn around body> a hooded, crimson linen aba
<worn on legs> a crimson and grey striped skirt
<worn on right ankle> a leather and chitin strap-sheath
<worn on left ankle> a small leather pouch
<worn on feet> a pair of snug knee-high boots
You stop using your fine, wide-brimmed hat.
The slim, milk-skinned redhead rakes her hands through her bangs, exposing a brief bruise on her forehead before the locks flop back over it.
You think:
"Great! The second time in as many days that I get beat up."
You feel irritated.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman blinks a few times, her focus returning to the room at large, hands moving uncertainly to touch against various trinkets of her attire.
You stop using your blackened moonstone-set ceramic bangle.
You stop using your blackened moonstone-set ceramic bangle.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman stops using her ruby-studded obsidian circlet.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman stops using her polished, opal-inset charm.
Clasping gloved hands behind his back, the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man says, in sirihish:
"Now I know you'll both fight fairly and decently. This is just to see which one of you can best the other, old-fashioned style. Easy on the scratching - no bruises.."
Yanking it off with almost betrayed annoyance, the sleek, sun-kissed young woman stops using her thin, amethyst-studded white collar.
You think:
"Yeah, I bet it is."
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman stops using her sapphire and amethyst stud.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman stops using her etched, agafari flute case.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman puts her etched, agafari flute case into her double-layered sandcloth pack.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman puts her ruby-studded obsidian circlet into her double-layered sandcloth pack.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman puts her thin, amethyst-studded white collar into her double-layered sandcloth pack.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman closes a double-layered sandcloth pack.
The slim, milk-skinned redhead considers your fine, wide-brimmed hat for a moment, then tucks it back on her head, piling her upward-sweeping hair beneath it - presumably to avoid giving the sleek, sun-kissed young woman something to grab.
You place your fine, wide-brimmed hat on your head.
Dumping it down before turning back into the room, the sleek, sun-kissed young woman puts her double-layered sandcloth pack onto a long wooden bench, eyes flitting nervously over you as she prepares.
You put your earring of glittering black glass into your hooded, crimson linen aba.
You put your earring of glittering black glass into your hooded, crimson linen aba.
You put your blackened moonstone-set ceramic bangle into your hooded, crimson linen aba.
You put your blackened moonstone-set ceramic bangle into your hooded, crimson linen aba.
Shrugging out of it irritably, you stop using your hooded, crimson linen aba.
Draping it over a relatively clean area, the whip coiled along her thigh exposed, you put your hooded, crimson linen aba onto a long wooden bench.
You stop using your leather belt-pack.
You put your leather belt-pack onto a long wooden bench.
Frowning slightly as she watches you, the sleek, sun-kissed young woman stops using her hooded, crimson linen aba, a hand then moving nervously in attempt to gather up the tumbling locks of hair without success.
Giving up on it after all, for it does obscure visibility quite a lot, and simply tightening the hold that your elaborate wooden comb has on her hair, you stop using your fine, wide-brimmed hat.
You think:
"Oh, whatever. If she pulls it she pulls it."
You put your fine, wide-brimmed hat onto a long wooden bench.
Stepping briskly to the ring on booted heels, you say to the sleek, sun-kissed young woman, in sirihish:
"Right."
Swinging to and fro on her toes, you say to the sleek, sun-kissed young woman, in sirihish:
"Let's just get this over with."
You look up at the sleek, sun-kissed young woman.
As distinguishable as a lavish songbird amongst the city streets, this
young woman's features are overflowing with exuberant colors. Hair, the
colour of obsidian; sleek ebony touched with streaks and taints of Jihae red
and resplendent gold, is scraped back, taut across her skull, in an
intricate, knotted weave. At her nape the mane falls loose in a flourish of
locks, the chiffon tufts cascading over her narrow back and shoulders with
the fluidity of a soft waterfall. Her body is endowed with the gentle
blossoming of early woman-hood: a narrow frame daintily fleshed by modest
chest and hips. Complimenting her build, elegantly supple limbs, the result
of a comfortable lifestyle with only a little physical exertion, lend to her
graceful stance. Her whole countenance is completed with gossamer,
sun-kissed skin which, combined with her rose-blushed high cheek-bones and
delicately chiseled chin, leaves her in semblance of a tanned, porcelain
doll. Full lips lie beneath a slender nose, the natural pink enhanced by
sienna inks and decorated with a thin sheen of oil to leave them with a
wholesome shine. Notably wide eyes are lined heavily with kohl and framed
by a lavish curtain of thick, onyx lashes, the opalescent cerulean of her
gaze penetrating through the the shadowy veil with ease and flawlessly
matched by a liberal sleep of cobalt across her lids.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman is in excellent condition.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman is using:
<worn about throat> a translucent scarf of crimson muslin
<worn across back> a leather backpack
<worn on torso> a crimson-embroidered, grey linen vest
<worn as belt> a bone-buckled red leather belt
<hung from belt> a topaz-pommeled ivory dagger
<worn on legs> a crimson and grey striped skirt
<worn on feet> a pair of calf-high, crimson leather boots
She is carrying:
nothing obvious
Turning weakly to face you, the sleek, sun-kissed young woman asks you, in sirihish:
"Right. How do we start this then?"
Raising a hand to her throat, you say to the sleek, sun-kissed young woman, in sirihish:
"Oh wait."
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman looks down at you.
The slim, milk-skinned redhead hurries back over to the bench, removing your grey silk, sapphire-set choker.
You stop using your grey silk, sapphire-set choker.
Glaring at a quartet of wyverns ogling her, you put your grey silk, sapphire-set choker onto a long wooden bench, atop her pile of belongings.
Calling out from his stance, hands behind his back, the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man says to the sleek, sun-kissed young woman, in sirihish:
"Like you would if you were defending yourself in a real life situation."
The slim, milk-skinned redhead steps back up into the ring, brushing her hands down her skirt.
Feeling fussy and irritated, you think:
"I can't believe this!"
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman winces vaguely, lifting her hands before her in a weakly protective gesture.
The slim, milk-skinned redhead eyes the sleek, sun-kissed young woman from across the ring, one foot shifting forward uncertainly.
The slim, milk-skinned redhead slinks towards the sleek, sun-kissed young woman, and takes the role of the aggressor in this make-believe.
You stop watching the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man.
You hit the sleek, sun-kissed young woman, barely grazing her wrist.
You hit the sleek, sun-kissed young woman, barely grazing her body.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman hits you, barely grazing your body.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
The slim, milk-skinned redhead darts backwards after the initial attack, the sleek, sun-kissed young woman's fists swiping empty air.
You nick the sleek, sun-kissed young woman's neck with your hit.
You hit the sleek, sun-kissed young woman, barely grazing her arm.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman sways slightly on her feet, her clumsy steps and movements causing her to stumble somewhat.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman hits you, barely grazing your body.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman swiftly dodges your hit.
You lunge at the sleek, sun-kissed young woman, but your blow is deftly deflected by a crimson and grey striped skirt.
You hit the sleek, sun-kissed young woman, barely grazing her body.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman swiftly dodges your hit.
You hit the sleek, sun-kissed young woman, barely grazing her body.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman swiftly dodges your hit.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
The slim, milk-skinned redhead comes back in, fists grazing against the sleek, sun-kissed young woman's shoulder, coming in for a full-body tackle against her.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman swiftly dodges your hit.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman swiftly dodges your hit.
You hit the sleek, sun-kissed young woman, barely grazing her body.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman swiftly dodges your hit.
You hit the sleek, sun-kissed young woman, barely grazing her wrist.
You hit the sleek, sun-kissed young woman, barely grazing her leg.
You hit the sleek, sun-kissed young woman, barely grazing her neck.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman reels from the blow.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman swiftly dodges your hit.
The chiseled, mercurial-tressed man intakes the pair of combatants before him with wide and interested eyes.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman swiftly dodges your hit.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman swiftly dodges your hit.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman swiftly dodges your hit.
You hit the sleek, sun-kissed young woman, barely grazing her body.
You stop attacking the sleek, sun-kissed young woman!
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman hits you, barely grazing your body.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman stops attacking you.
The slim, milk-skinned redhead backs up quickly, holding up her hands defensively.
The slim, milk-skinned redhead touches the side of her neck gingerly, and eyes the sleek, sun-kissed young woman with mild concern underlaying her annoyance, before looking over at the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man with pleading expectancy.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman leans forwards, a hand planting down on her slightly bents knees as she catches her breath, a directed breath blowing a lock of stray hair from across her features.
Shaking his head bemusedly, the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man asks, in sirihish:
"You two both fight with such grace and speed, it was hard to follow. Do.. do we have a winner?"
Between her huffs of breath, the sleek, sun-kissed young woman says to the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man, in sirihish:
"Well, she backed down first."
Shifting from booted foot to booted foot, her hair coming half undone, you say to the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man, in sirihish:
"I was afraid I would hurt her, my Lord."
Her features holding another expression besides tiredness, the sleek, sun-kissed young woman looks down at you.
The slim, milk-skinned redhead attemps to pile her hair back on her head and fails miserably.
Straightening up, her panting almost returning to normal breaths, the sleek, sun-kissed young woman says to you, in sirihish:
"I can worry about myself, Sathis."
Waving his finger negatively in the air with a smile, the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man says, in sirihish:
"I won't declare a winner till one of you steps from the ring in defeat."
You feel a spark of rage kindling beneath the resigned irritation.
A muscle in her jaw twitching as she looks sharply over at the sleek, sun-kissed young woman, you say to the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man, in sirihish:
"As you wish, my Lord."
With a decisive motion, the slim, milk-skinned redhead yanks your elaborate wooden comb from her hair, twines the thick mass in a tight pile atop her head, and stabs the comb back in to hold it in place.
You subdue the sleek, sun-kissed young woman.
Advancing quickly, the slim, milk-skinned redhead hoists the sleek, sun-kissed young woman up in her arms, and chucks her off the platform, pushing her from the ring.
You release the sleek, sun-kissed young woman, and roughly shove her south.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman has arrived from the south.
Mulishly, crossing her arms, you say to the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man, in sirihish:
"There."
Barging back towards you, the sleek, sun-kissed young woman says to you, in sirihish:
"That was not leaving in defeat, it doesn't count."
Whirling back to meet her, you exclaim to the sleek, sun-kissed young woman, in sirihish:
"Right! Bring it on!"
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman hits you, barely grazing your waist.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman swiftly dodges your hit.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman swiftly dodges your hit.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman swiftly dodges your hit.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman swiftly dodges your hit.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman swiftly dodges your hit.
You hit the sleek, sun-kissed young woman, barely grazing her body.
You hit the sleek, sun-kissed young woman, barely grazing her leg.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman swiftly dodges your hit.
Your blow bounces off the sleek, sun-kissed young woman's tough skin.
Your attack on the sleek, sun-kissed young woman is absorbed by a crimson-embroidered, grey linen vest.
You hit the sleek, sun-kissed young woman, barely grazing her leg.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman swiftly dodges your hit.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
The slim, milk-skinned redhead grapples with the sleek, sun-kissed young woman determinedly, grabbing her upper arms and pulling down.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman hits you, barely grazing your arm.
Your blow bounces off the sleek, sun-kissed young woman's tough skin.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman swiftly dodges your hit.
You viciously leap toward the sleek, sun-kissed young woman, but a crimson-embroidered, grey linen vest gets in the way.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman swiftly dodges your hit.
You hit the sleek, sun-kissed young woman, barely grazing her leg.
You nick the sleek, sun-kissed young woman's neck with your hit.
You hit the sleek, sun-kissed young woman, barely grazing her body.
You hit the sleek, sun-kissed young woman, barely grazing her body.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
You hit the sleek, sun-kissed young woman, barely grazing her body.
You hit the sleek, sun-kissed young woman, barely grazing her body.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman reels from the blow.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
You hit the sleek, sun-kissed young woman, barely grazing her neck.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman reels from the blow.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman swiftly dodges your hit.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman hits you, barely grazing your head.
You reel from the blow.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman viciously leaps toward you, but a pair of snug knee-high boots gets in the way.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman swiftly dodges your hit.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman swiftly dodges your hit.
You hit the sleek, sun-kissed young woman, barely grazing her body.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman swiftly dodges your hit.
Your blow bounces off the sleek, sun-kissed young woman's tough skin.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman swiftly dodges your hit.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
You hit the sleek, sun-kissed young woman, barely grazing her body.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman swiftly dodges your hit.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman swiftly dodges your hit.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman swiftly dodges your hit.
The slim, milk-skinned redhead tackles the sleek, sun-kissed young woman enthusiastically, nails raking against her skin.
The chiseled, mercurial-tressed man stoops his neck forward, intaking the combatants before him.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman swiftly dodges your hit.
Your blow bounces off the sleek, sun-kissed young woman's tough skin.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman swiftly dodges your hit.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman swiftly dodges your hit.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman teeters slightly on her feet, hands flailing weakly towards you, fingers making a grasp for you hair.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman hits you, barely grazing your wrist.
You hit the sleek, sun-kissed young woman, barely grazing her body.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman's eyes roll back in her head.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman crumples to the ground.
You nick the sleek, sun-kissed young woman's head with your hit.
You notice the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man glance your way.
The Grey Room [S Save]
The black-mortared stone walls of this spacious room have been covered
in thick tapestries of serene grey. Upon each tapestry, a simple crimson
outline of the Borsail wyvern design looks out over the room. On the cool
obsidian floor several wooden benches have been arranged around a raised
platform. A simple weapons rack stands between two cloth-stuffed dummies in
the northern corner and a row of wooden footlockers lines the southern wall.
The sleek, sun-kissed young woman is sleeping here, bleeding lightly.
The chiseled, mercurial-tressed man stands here, hands clasped behind his back.
A sand-filled sparring dummy is standing here, rigid and unmoving.
The chiseled, mercurial-tressed man says to you, in sirihish:
"Enough."
The slim, milk-skinned redhead pants tensely in the ring after knocking the sleek, sun-kissed young woman flat on her back, standing with hair undone again and scratch marks on her arms.
The chiseled, mercurial-tressed man paces across the floor in his slippers, nearing the sleek, sun-kissed young woman.
Over the sleek, sun-kissed young woman's unconscious body, the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man asks you, in sirihish:
"I knew you'd win, you've been practicing. Have you got any reviving salts?"The Grey Room [S Save]
The black-mortared stone walls of this spacious room have been covered
in thick tapestries of serene grey. Upon each tapestry, a simple crimson
outline of the Borsail wyvern design looks out over the room. On the cool
obsidian floor several wooden benches have been...
Continue Reading...Dueden Kadius by Biscuits
Added on Jul 18, 2007A young northern Kadian is seduced by the music of the south.
a whiran by Bast
Added on Jul 5, 2007I would once again like to express the shame I feel for my scanner...It seems to pick shading I didn't add....
Cowboy Templar by Bast
Added on Jul 5, 2007"Them peasants are just cattle." ;) (not solo: Angus Brown assisted with final sketch and equipment designs)
Sanda elf by bast
Added on Jul 1, 2007I got a request from another player to do a Char pic...I hope you all like it as much as they do
Counterpart (a poem) by Gimfalisette
Added on Jun 29, 2007A poetic exploration of love, death, art, struggle, and meaning from a Zalanthan perspective. Composed by a bard of Poets' Circle in Tuluk circa Year 34 of the 21st Age.
Counterpart
by Caitrin Irofel
No, dark is not the opposite of light,
As day is not the nemesis of night.
A coin that's carved from slick and shiny stone
Has two reflective sides; and yet is one.
The purest truths are found in paradox;
The deepest truths are simplest to unlock.
The shadow cannot tear itself away,
But owes existence to the sun's bright play.
All things must seek their balanced counterpart;
The bard's beat echoes in a stranger's heart.
Our bodies, bound in ecstasy, collide;
And still remains the merest of divides.
Were there no doubt, there never could be trust;
And absence heightens passion's fueling lust.
Twins, love and war are conflicts that engulf;
Impassioned struggle kills and births the self.
Both joy and sorrow spring from but one seed;
The greatest art is born from wretched need.
And still you ask why I would choose to love?
Though every life begins and ends in blood?
Yes, death will come and put an end to us,
The sands will sift, and all will turn to dust;
But I would rather fall entwined with you
Than die regretting what I did not do.Counterpart
by Caitrin Irofel
No, dark is not the opposite of light,
As day is not the nemesis of night.
A coin that's carved from slick and shiny stone
Has two reflective sides; and yet is one.
The purest truths are found in paradox;
The deepest truths are simplest to unlock.
The shadow cannot tear...
Continue Reading...Soldier Girl by Ourla
Added on Jun 29, 2007They might be pretty, but that don't mean they're sweet.
Sun of Fate by Biscuits
Added on Jun 29, 2007A gypsy walks the path laid by Fortune's guiding hand.
Dahlia by Bast
Added on Jun 26, 2007rough draft (contains nudity)
A Bardish Prankster Takes on Kurac by Ourla
Added on Jun 24, 2007A bardess of the Poets Circle plays an elaborate prank on the Kuracis who have hired her to entertain at their party. Never underestimate an Elkinhym.
"The Tembo's Tooth" - Tavern [EWD Quit]
Smooth, sanded cylini planks have been laid across the floor of this
cramped room, their polished surface flickering in the lights of the candles.
Dark stains splatter the wooden floor at odd intervals, disrupting the
otherwise smooth contour of the wood with slight warps and bends. A curved
bar, formed from what appears to have once been highly polished agafari wood
extends from the northern wall. Spaced around it are several bare, ascetic
wooden barstools. A sturdy trapdoor has been set in the floor behind the
bar. Several rows of shelves have been inset into the wall behind the bar
and contain a variety of local ales and liquor. Willowy, vine-like plants
drape from rounded clay bowls, the gloss of their leaves reflecting the dim
light of the candles spaced around the room. Rows of booths line the
northern and southern walls while the center of the room is occupied by
two rounded tables.
A few bleached wooden casks are here.
A couple of wooden casks are here.
A couple of dull wooden casks are here.
The Tuluk bulletin board is here propped up on a stand.
The dirty, hair-covered half-giant is standing here.
The tan, choppy-haired man is standing here.
The tall, scarred human is sitting at a curved, agafari bar.
The tall, crop-haired human is standing here.
The adult human male stands near a cold eyed woman.
The robust, head-shaven man stands patiently behind the bar.
The onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man is sitting at a curved, agafari bar.
The shaven, pinch-faced soldier scowls as he patrols the streets here.
The brutally-scarred, crimson-haired Jihaen templar is sitting at a compact agafari table.
The fuzzy, red-streaked pup is here on a leash tied to the bar.
The stocky, clean-shaven man is standing here.
The coffee-tressed young woman is sitting at a curved, agafari bar.
The inky-curled female half-giant towers near the bar here.
The cold eyed woman is standing here, looking a bit winded.
- she is carrying a plain bag of cloth.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man is standing here.
The spiral-tressed, bronzed woman stands here, attentively watching the area.
The wasp-waisted brunette woman is sitting at a compact agafari table.
The lanky, jade-eyed youth lounges at the bar.
The ancient, tremulous man sits at a far table, chatting to some youngsters.
Leaning against one wall, a curly-haired man keeps an eye on the tavern.
The black-bearded, heavyset man leans against the bar, frowning.
Sitting at a booth, the rangy, iron-haired woman converses with some hunters.
The toned, ruby-red half-giant sits cross-legged beside the bar.
score
You are Tsenna, of many people. (type 'tribes' to see your tribes).
Keywords: spiral-scarred black woman tsen
Sdesc: the spiral-scarred black woman
Objective: Become an archer supreme.
Long Description:
Code Generated Long Description.
You are 25 years, 1 months, and 199 days old,
which by your race and appearance is adult.
You are 66 inches tall, and weigh 6 ten-stone.
Your strength is below average, your agility is good,
your wisdom is average, and your endurance is good.
You are a little hungry and not thirsty.
You are semi-intoxicated.
Your health is 104(104), you have 114(114) stamina, and 97(97) stun.
You have been playing for 13 days and 18 hours.
You are sitting on a bare, wooden barstool, at a curved, agafari bar.
You are currently speaking sirihish with a northern accent.
Nodding to the ethereal, fair-haired woman as she begins to pick a spirited, whimsical tune on your light-stained cunyati lute, you say, in sirihish:
"May I present 'Roll Your Leg Over,' composed by Tsenna of Elkinhym as a commentary on the young men of Tuluk. "
Grinning broadly to the ethereal, fair-haired woman, you ask, in sirihish:
"May I introduce my ravishing accompaniest, Aja?"
The ethereal, fair-haired woman stands away from a curved, agafari bar as she brushes a thumb over the strings of her instrument.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman holds her light-stained cunyati lute.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman walks with careful, practiced steps to the opposite side of the room from you.
At your table, the stocky, clean-shaven man says in sirihish:
"Oh, this sounds good already."
Nodding, the chubby, brown-haired man says to the stocky, clean-shaven man, in sirihish:
"It is good...perfect for a Kuraci party."
Her low-pitched voice husky, her good eye twinkling at the stocky, clean-shaven man, you sing, in sirihish:
"If all the young laddies were locks on a gate,
Then I'd be the key to insert and rotate."
Her tone coy as she glances at the ethereal, fair-haired woman, grinning, you sing, in sirihish:
"I wish all the laddies were pies on a shelf,
And I was the baker: I'd eat 'em myself."
You sing, in sirihish:
"If all the young laddies were Firestorm's flame,
We'd wake up come morning with no one to blame."
The ethereal, fair-haired woman taps a foot against her chair, fingers giving a percussive snap against her strings as she plays.
The easygoing notes drizzling through the conversation in the room, you sing, in sirihish:
"If all the young laddies were kank beasts so fine,
Then I'd mount with a quickness, they all would be mine."
The strings ringing under your light-gauge bone pick, you sing, in sirihish:
"If all the young laddies were belshun fruits sweet,
Then I'd suck out their juices and chew on their meat."
Glancing out the eastern doors as she shifts chords for the chorus, you sing, in sirihish:
"Roll your leg over, and roll your leg over
And roll your leg over, its better that way."
Shrugging with a cheeky grin, you sing, in sirihish:
"If all the young laddies were musical notes,
Then I'd be the fiddler and I'd play em by rote."
At your table, the stocky, clean-shaven man says in sirihish, quietly:
"I could get the hang of this.. think there'll be an audience participation segment?"
A tiny, sly smirk to the stocky, clean-shaven man quirking the corners of her full lips, you sing, in sirihish:
"If all the young laddies were carru in clover,
Then I'd ram and I'd ram and I'd ram em all over."
The ethereal, fair-haired woman gives a laugh, fingers racing over the strings, dancing about to your singing.
Bringing a hand to her mouth, the wasp-waisted brunette woman laughs softly as she watches you.
At a compact agafari table, you overhear the brutally-scarred, crimson-haired Jihaen templar say in sirihish, with an amused snort:
"Carru."
You sing, in sirihish:
"If all the young laddies were winds on the lea,
Then I'd be the grasses and let them blow me."
The sinewy, weather-worn man burts into laughter as he chews another bite from his half eaten large stuffed and fried gourd blossom and begins to choke.
Her dark fingers dancing over your light-stained cunyati lute's strings, in a sage tone, you sing, in sirihish:
"I wish all the young laddies were pipes in the yard,
After I drained 'em, they'd still remain hard."
The sinewy, weather-worn man somehow manages to continue laughing as he gives several hard coughs, sending partially chewed food all over the bar before him.
The tall, scarred human lets out an uproarous laugh.
At your table, the chubby, brown-haired man says in sirihish:
"That's still the best line..."
Taking a deep breath with a grin to the chubby, brown-haired man and the stocky, clean-shaven man, you sing, in sirihish:
"Roll your leg over, and roll your leg over,
And roll your leg over, its better that way."
With you eyes on her lute, the ethereal, fair-haired woman sings, in sirihish:
"And roll your leg over, and roll your leg over
And roll your leg over, it's better that way."
The spiral-scarred black woman laughs, winking to the ethereal, fair-haired woman across the room.
A hint of coyness in her low, throaty voice as she plays, you sing, in sirihish:
"If laddies were sundials in shiny stone cases,
Then I'd be the hand and I'd sit on their faces."
With a laugh, the tall, crop-haired human says to the stocky, clean-shaven man, in sirihish:
"This...now this is a song."
At your table, the tall, scarred human says in sirihish, chuckling again:
"This -is- definitely a song..."
Flicking a smile to the tall, crop-haired human, you sing, in sirihish:
"If all the young laddies were cooks in the kitchen,
They'd taste my tidbits and then quit their bitchin'."
Winking broadly to the sleek, black-haired woman as the notes of your light-stained cunyati lute bleed into those of the ethereal, fair-haired woman's instrument, you sing, in sirihish:
"If all the young laddies were needles and pins,
Then I'd be cushion to hold their pricks in."
At your table, the chubby, brown-haired man says in sirihish:
"I'm going to cry...krath..."
Glancing warily at the fuzzy, red-streaked pup, her good eye twinkling, you sing, in sirihish:
"If all the young laddies were young 'toks full grown,
Then I'd be the ground where they bury their bone."
With a quick, high interlude, the ethereal, fair-haired woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Kill 'em all, Tsen, and there's no pay for us..."
The lute's rich notes purling forth as she nods knowingly, you sing, in sirihish:
"If all the young laddies were singing this song,
It'd be over too quick and it'd be half as long."
Calling out, you exclaim, in sirihish:
"Everyone!"
You sing, in sirihish:
"Roll your leg over, and roll your leg over,
And roll your leg over, its better that way!"
In fragile, riotous harmony, the ethereal, fair-haired woman sings, in sirihish:
"Roll your leg over, and roll your leg over
And roll your leg over, it's better that way."
The chubby, brown-haired man adds his voice to the line, raising his red-striped granite tankard.
The tall, crop-haired human joins in the singing of the chorus.
In a terrible voice, the adult human male sings, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Ehmm....roll the leg over?"
Pounding her red-striped granite tankard lightly on a compact agafari table, the wasp-waisted brunette woman sings, in sirihish:
"Roll your leg over, and roll your leg over,
And roll your leg over, its better that way!"
The sleek, black-haired woman claps, singing along loudly.
At a compact agafari table, you overhear the wasp-waisted brunette woman say in sirihish, looking back to the brutally-scarred, crimson-haired Jihaen templar with a wave of her hand toward you:
"And -that- is why I'm throwing a humor competition."
At your table, the chubby, brown-haired man says in sirihish, to the stocky, clean-shaven man:
"Now you know why I wanted her to sing it."
The stocky, clean-shaven man says to the tall, crop-haired human, in sirihish:
"I think we should bring this one down to Luir's with us."
The stocky, clean-shaven man nods firmly at the chubby, brown-haired man.
The tall, crop-haired human grins and nods to the stocky, clean-shaven man.
At your table, the coffee-tressed young woman says in southern-accented sirihish:
"She could teach that bard in the Barrel a thing or two."
The sinewy, weather-worn man leans his head down onto his arm as it rests on the bartop with his entire body shaking with laughter.
With a laugh, you stand up from a curved, agafari bar.
The spiral-scarred black woman legs a fancy half-bow from the waist, grinning mischeviously and daintily extending an ankle.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman jumps on her chair, finishing her last note.
The sinewy, weather-worn man calls out with chorus in a loud roar and slams his fist against the bartop.
Gesturing to you, the chubby, brown-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Throw her coins...throw her coins..."
At a curved, agafari bar, you overhear the coffee-tressed young woman say in southern-accented sirihish, setting her red-striped granite tankard down and clapping:
"Kind of makes me wish I could sing."
Makes his way towards you handing over a pile of a coins, the stocky, crooked-nose man says to you, in sirihish:
"I am glad I did not miss that, that song is now one of my favorites. "
[Time passes, games are played, and drinks are drunk. After a while, people begin to trickle home for the night.]
"The Tembo's Tooth" - Tavern [EWD Quit]
Smooth, sanded cylini planks have been laid across the floor of this
cramped room, their polished surface flickering in the lights of the candles.
Dark stains splatter the wooden floor at odd intervals, disrupting the
otherwise smooth contour of the wood with slight warps and bends. A curved
bar, formed from what appears to have once been highly polished agafari wood
extends from the northern wall. Spaced around it are several bare, ascetic
wooden barstools. A sturdy trapdoor has been set in the floor behind the
bar. Several rows of shelves have been inset into the wall behind the bar
and contain a variety of local ales and liquor. Willowy, vine-like plants
drape from rounded clay bowls, the gloss of their leaves reflecting the dim
light of the candles spaced around the room. Rows of booths line the
northern and southern walls while the center of the room is occupied by
two rounded tables.
A tiny tower of glazed ceramic pieces sits here.
A few bleached wooden casks are here.
A couple of wooden casks are here.
A couple of dull wooden casks are here.
The Tuluk bulletin board is here propped up on a stand.
The long-braided white haired man next to a a scarred templar.
The robust, head-shaven man stands patiently behind the bar.
The slender, pitch-haired young man is sitting at a curved, agafari bar.
The stocky, crooked-nose man is standing here.
The chubby, brown-haired man is sitting at a curved, agafari bar.
The sinewy, weather-worn man is sitting at a curved, agafari bar.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman leans against a curved, agafari bar.
The tall, scarred human is sitting at a curved, agafari bar.
The fuzzy, red-streaked pup is here on a leash tied to the bar.
The stocky, clean-shaven man is sitting at a curved, agafari bar.
The coffee-tressed young woman is sitting at a curved, agafari bar.
The inky-curled female half-giant towers near the bar here.
The lanky, jade-eyed youth lounges at the bar.
The ancient, tremulous man sits at a far table, chatting to some youngsters.
Leaning against one wall, a curly-haired man keeps an eye on the tavern.
The black-bearded, heavyset man leans against the bar, frowning.
Sitting at a booth, the rangy, iron-haired woman converses with some hunters.
The toned, ruby-red half-giant sits cross-legged beside the bar.
The chubby, brown-haired man says to the stocky, clean-shaven man, in sirihish:
"Well, Cousin. I'm going to stagger on back."
With a grin, the chubby, brown-haired man asks the stocky, clean-shaven man, in sirihish:
"Clean up, hmm?"
l me
This human female's skin is such a dark shade of brown as to be almost
black, wrapping her lanky curves like a burnished horta fruit. Her rounded
face is cupped on either side by low, broad cheekbones and a strong jaw; the
baobab-purple lips are plump on her slightly overbitten mouth. Below the
highly arched brows, her one good eye is of the deepest gold hue, the other
missing, replaced by a shallow pit of pocked tissue. Thin lines of
scarification radiate in a tight spiral from the socket across the left side
of her face. Her rangy body, while medium in height, is well-muscled and
fit with long, nimble hands and slim hips. Thick, smooth black dreadlocks
fall in regal columns over her slim shoulders, small rings of bone and agate
visible among them.
The spiral-scarred black woman is in excellent condition.
a baobab leaf an empty left eyesocket a milky-white linen scarf a tattoo of three orange triangles a long, durrit-hide sack a bold, floral-patterned sarong a flowing pair of garnet-hued sleeves a wood-clasped charm bracelet a wood-clasped charm bracelet a tattoo of a six-pronged star a tattooed spray of graceful white blossoms a chunky, topaz-set bone ring an earthy leather pouched belt a blossom-clasped brown belt-pouch a flowing black-silk dancing skirt a pair of tied brown leather sandals
The ethereal, fair-haired woman brushes a few strands of hair out of her face with one hand.
Raising a brow, you say to the chubby, brown-haired man, in sirihish:
"Oh, Brethel, I had a question to ask you."
The chubby, brown-haired man nods to you.
The stocky, clean-shaven man says to the chubby, brown-haired man, in sirihish:
"Sure... before you do... a guy from Storm might contact you, I was talking to him."
Grinning, the chubby, brown-haired man says to the stocky, clean-shaven man, in sirihish:
"Hopefully not tonight...I won't understand him."
The ethereal, fair-haired woman finishes her tankard with a toss of her head.
Leaning over, you say to the chubby, brown-haired man, in sirihish:
"Have you ever heard the old nursery rhyme about Simple Sager? I loved it as a child."
Shaking his head, the chubby, brown-haired man says to you, in sirihish:
"Never have."
As she stands, you say to the chubby, brown-haired man, in sirihish:
"I simply must take just the shortest amount of your time. I'll be swift."
You stand up from a curved, agafari bar.
The chubby, brown-haired man listens to you.
Folding her hands with exaggerated primness under her breasts, you recite, in sirihish:
"Simple Sager met a baker going to the Ivory;
Said Simple Sager to the baker "Come on now, step lively.""
With a nimble little caper, winking to the chubby, brown-haired man, you recite, in sirihish:
"Said the baker to Simple Sager "Why is it you care?"
Said Simple Sager to the baker "I want to steal your wares!""
Miming an overhand throw, you recite, in sirihish:
"Simple Sager went a-runnin' for to catch a pie;
The baker saw him coming, and let his sweet goods fly."
The chubby, brown-haired man watches you with amusement.
You recite, in sirihish:
"Simple Sager sat there dripping, licking off the ginka;
"Free pie's nicer than stolen ones any day, I think-a.""
With a blithe smile on her round-boned face, you recite, in sirihish:
"He went to bake some of his own and threw them at the crowd;
They carried off poor Simple Sager, wrapped up in a shroud."
open sack
Ok.
You get your handful of flour from your long, durrit-hide sack.
It is very light.
The spiral-scarred black woman pats her cheeks with your handful of flour, reaching back into the sack for a crisp linen apron. She ties it around her waist.
The chubby, brown-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Oh oh..."
As she hunkers low behind the inky-curled female half-giant, you get your juicy, lightly-brown ginka pie from your long, durrit-hide sack.
It is very light.
Stepping back, the chubby, brown-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Krath..."
Launching it through the air in a lazy arc toward the chubby, brown-haired man, you drop your juicy, lightly-brown ginka pie, turning on her toes to dash off with a laugh.
Shown to the room as:
A juicy, lightly-brown ginka pie is here lays in a crumbled heap here.
As she ducks behind a compact agafari table, you exclaim to the chubby, brown-haired man, in sirihish:
"Arright, you can go!"
The chubby, brown-haired man takes the pie full in the face.
Peeping around the room, you get your juicy, lightly-brown ginka pie from your long, durrit-hide sack.
It is very light.
Begins to reach for the tower, the slender, pitch-haired young man's hand hovers an inch away, attention clearly drawn elsewhere as he watches the pie sail.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman laughs, shaking as she looks down at you.
The stocky, clean-shaven man turns and glances at the chubby, brown-haired man, laughing wildly.
At a compact agafari table, you overhear the stocky, crooked-nose man say in sirihish, smileing back with a knock on the table:
"First time I've sat all through the party, and just glad nothing happen and nothing does, there has been enough excitement tonight"
Pegging it nimbly at the stocky, clean-shaven man, you drop your juicy, lightly-brown ginka pie, her good eye twinkling gold in the lamplight.
Shown to the room as:
A juicy, lightly-brown ginka pie lays in a spattered mess on the floor.
The coffee-tressed young woman blinks, staring at the chubby, brown-haired man with wide eyes.
The slender, pitch-haired young man muffles a snicker by biting on his lower lip, looking at the chubby, brown-haired man's ginka-pie covered face.
The chubby, brown-haired man laughs, wiping the pie from his face.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman laughs hard enough to slip out of her chair, curling onto her side with amusement beside you.
The cold eyed woman chuckles.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman stands up from a compact agafari table.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman sits down.
The spiral-scarred black woman dives behind another table, peeping up briefly with her face covered in flour.
The sinewy, weather-worn man doubles over in laughter as he watches you, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
Tugging it free with a wicked chuckle, you get your juicy, lightly-brown ginka pie from your long, durrit-hide sack.
It is very light.
The stocky, clean-shaven man's laughter cuts off in a surprised 'gmmf!' as he is pied square in the face as well.
Grinning, pie dripping from his face, the chubby, brown-haired man says to the stocky, clean-shaven man, in sirihish:
"After all we did..."
The dirty, hair-covered half-giant has entered the world.
Sending it sailing across the room toward the sinewy, weather-worn man, you drop your juicy, lightly-brown ginka pie, laughing merrily.
Shown to the room as:
Dribbling down the wall, a juicy, lightly-brown ginka pie is crumbled here.
Slanting a glance at you, the slender, pitch-haired young man says to the coffee-tressed young woman, in southern-accented sirihish:
"I'd be ready to duck if I were you, she seems to have an endless supply."
Stumbling with a helpless giggle, the spiral-scarred black woman ducks behind the dirty, hair-covered half-giant.
Looking around, the stocky, clean-shaven man exclaims, in sirihish:
".. somebody give me something to throw back!"
The dirty, hair-covered half-giant walks west.
The robust, head-shaven man trades a loaf of sandhog headcheese to the stocky, clean-shaven man.
At a curved, agafari bar, you overhear the coffee-tressed young woman say in southern-accented sirihish, frowning:
"Ginka stains."
The ethereal, fair-haired woman sits up on the floor, resting her head on her knees as she laughs.
You get your juicy, lightly-brown ginka pie from your long, durrit-hide sack, snaking her arm in.
It is very light.
The stocky, clean-shaven man snatches a plate from the robust, head-shaven man, leaping off his stool.
The stocky, clean-shaven man stands up from a curved, agafari bar.
The sinewy, weather-worn man gets his pile of allanaki coins from his bone-framed, double strapped coin belt.
"The Tembo's Tooth" - Tavern [EWD Quit]
Smooth, sanded cylini planks have been laid across the floor of this
cramped room, their polished surface flickering in the lights of the candles.
Dark stains splatter the wooden floor at odd intervals, disrupting the
otherwise smooth contour of the wood with slight warps and bends. A curved
bar, formed from what appears to have once been highly polished agafari wood
extends from the northern wall. Spaced around it are several bare, ascetic
wooden barstools. A sturdy trapdoor has been set in the floor behind the
bar. Several rows of shelves have been inset into the wall behind the bar
and contain a variety of local ales and liquor. Willowy, vine-like plants
drape from rounded clay bowls, the gloss of their leaves reflecting the dim
light of the candles spaced around the room. Rows of booths line the
northern and southern walls while the center of the room is occupied by
two rounded tables.
Dribbling down the wall, a juicy, lightly-brown ginka pie is crumbled here.
A juicy, lightly-brown ginka pie lays in a spattered mess on the floor.
A juicy, lightly-brown ginka pie is here lays in a crumbled heap here.
A tiny tower of glazed ceramic pieces sits here.
A few bleached wooden casks are here.
A couple of wooden casks are here.
A couple of dull wooden casks are here.
The Tuluk bulletin board is here propped up on a stand.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man is standing here.
The adult human male stands near the cold eyed woman.
The long-braided white haired man is sitting at a compact agafari table.
The robust, head-shaven man stands patiently behind the bar.
The slender, pitch-haired young man is sitting at a curved, agafari bar.
The stocky, crooked-nose man is sitting at a compact agafari table.
The chubby, brown-haired man is standing here.
The sinewy, weather-worn man is standing here.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman is sitting here.
The tall, scarred human is sitting at a compact agafari table.
The fuzzy, red-streaked pup is here on a leash tied to the bar.
The stocky, clean-shaven man is standing here.
The coffee-tressed young woman is sitting at a curved, agafari bar.
The inky-curled female half-giant towers near the bar here.
The cold eyed woman is standing here, looking a bit winded.
- she is carrying a plain bag of cloth.
The lanky, jade-eyed youth lounges at the bar.
The ancient, tremulous man sits at a far table, chatting to some youngsters.
Leaning against one wall, a curly-haired man keeps an eye on the tavern.
The black-bearded, heavyset man leans against the bar, frowning.
Sitting at a booth, the rangy, iron-haired woman converses with some hunters.
The toned, ruby-red half-giant sits cross-legged beside the bar.
The robust, head-shaven man trades a shik-blood pudding cake to the sinewy, weather-worn man.
The chubby, brown-haired man gets his red-striped granite tankard from a curved, agafari bar.
Hand still hovering near a tower of glazed ceramic pieces, the slender, pitch-haired young man watches you.
The chubby, brown-haired man says, in sirihish:
"You throw...I'll pour."
The chubby, brown-haired man begins stalking you, moving towards a compact agafari table.
The stocky, clean-shaven man charges you, closing the distance across the room before tossing his loaf of sandhog headcheese straight at you.
With a deft underhanded toss, you drop your juicy, lightly-brown ginka pie, watching it tumble through the air toward the chubby, brown-haired man as she ducks.
Shown to the room as:
In a ruin, a juicy, lightly-brown ginka pie lays splattered on the floor.
The stocky, clean-shaven man drops a loaf of sandhog headcheese.
At a curved, agafari bar, you overhear the coffee-tressed young woman say in southern-accented sirihish, sighing:
"I may as well get out of here. I lost the game and two small, and I really don't want to end up with stains all over my clothes."
The chubby, brown-haired man turns, the pie glancing off his shoulder.
Chasing after him with his shik-blood pudding cake help before him, the sinewy, weather-worn man exclaims to the stocky, clean-shaven man, in sirihish:
"Second volley, sir!"
A moment too late, the spiral-scarred black woman shrieks as a loaf of sandhog headcheese smears across her face, laughing.
The sinewy, weather-worn man gives his shik-blood pudding cake to the stocky, clean-shaven man.
You get your juicy, lightly-brown ginka pie from your long, durrit-hide sack, as she dashes across the room.
It is very light.
The coffee-tressed young woman stands up from a curved, agafari bar.
Chucking it high in the air to the slender, pitch-haired young man, you drop your juicy, lightly-brown ginka pie.
Shown to the room as:
A juicy, lightly-brown ginka pie is here smeared on the floor by the doorway.
Keeping behind the inky-curled female half-giant, the coffee-tressed young woman hurries out into the street.
Pulling herself up with the help of the table, the ethereal, fair-haired woman stands up.
The coffee-tressed young woman walks west.
The inky-curled female half-giant walks west.
The chubby, brown-haired man catches up to you, attempting to hold you with one hand while he pours out his red-striped granite tankard.
Jumping over tables in his pursuit of you, the stocky, clean-shaven man asks, in sirihish:
"How many pies do you -have-, woman?"
You say, in sirihish:
"More than you could ever eat!"
The long-limbed blue-eyed man walks west.
The cold eyed woman walks west.
You get your slice of ginka pie from your long, durrit-hide sack, scooping it forth with a laugh.
It is very light.
Attention having bene quite fixedly on you, the slender, pitch-haired young man stands up from a curved, agafari bar, sidestepping in time to avoid the face, but getting winged on the silk-clad shoulder.
The adult human male walks west.
Chucking his shik-blood pudding cake at you, the stocky, clean-shaven man exclaims to you, in sirihish:
"Well you can eat... this!"
The stocky, clean-shaven man drops a shik-blood pudding cake.
The spiral-scarred black woman gargles, lifting her face in a sputtering attempt to swallow some of the ale gushing over her head.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman shields her face with one hand from the bits of flying pie getting scattered -everywhere-.
Grinning, the chubby, brown-haired man says to the stocky, clean-shaven man, in sirihish:
"Now is when we need the ginka sauce..."
The stocky, clean-shaven man says to the chubby, brown-haired man, in sirihish:
"Maybe we should do this at the End during the festival..."
The long-braided white haired man holds up his new large spiked wooden shield covering his head with it as cake flys all over the room.
Waving her arms helplessly, your slice of ginka pie in one hand, the spiral-scarred black woman squeezes her good eye shut as a shik-blood pudding cake joins a loaf of sandhog headcheese, mashed in her hair.
Holding onto you, the chubby, brown-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Hey...she was going to take a ride in one of the casks...help me take her to one..."
Letting it fly toward him, drops of oozy filling spraying the air, you give your slice of ginka pie to the long-braided white haired man.
Chuckling, the sinewy, weather-worn man exclaims to the stocky, clean-shaven man, in sirihish:
"Yeah, but don't announce it! The surprise is half the fun!"
The chubby, brown-haired man tries to hoist up you.
Squawking as she squirms, you exclaim to the stocky, clean-shaven man, in sirihish:
"Hey, I was just kiddin', I -swear-!"
Managing to get a hand in, you get your slice of ginka pie from your long, durrit-hide sack.
It is very light.
With an evil grin, the stocky, clean-shaven man looks down at you.
"The Tembo's Tooth" - Tavern [EWD Quit]
Smooth, sanded cylini planks have been laid across the floor of this
cramped room, their polished surface flickering in the lights of the candles.
Dark stains splatter the wooden floor at odd intervals, disrupting the
otherwise smooth contour of the wood with slight warps and bends. A curved
bar, formed from what appears to have once been highly polished agafari wood
extends from the northern wall. Spaced around it are several bare, ascetic
wooden barstools. A sturdy trapdoor has been set in the floor behind the
bar. Several rows of shelves have been inset into the wall behind the bar
and contain a variety of local ales and liquor. Willowy, vine-like plants
drape from rounded clay bowls, the gloss of their leaves reflecting the dim
light of the candles spaced around the room. Rows of booths line the
northern and southern walls while the center of the room is occupied by
two rounded tables.
A brackish-brown cake has been left here.
A loaf of sandhog headcheese is here in an appetizing splatter on the floor.
A juicy, lightly-brown ginka pie is here smeared on the floor by the doorway.
In a ruin, a juicy, lightly-brown ginka pie lays splattered on the floor.
Dribbling down the wall, a juicy, lightly-brown ginka pie is crumbled here.
A juicy, lightly-brown ginka pie lays in a spattered mess on the floor.
A juicy, lightly-brown ginka pie is here lays in a crumbled heap here.
A tiny tower of glazed ceramic pieces sits here.
A few bleached wooden casks are here.
A couple of wooden casks are here.
A couple of dull wooden casks are here.
The Tuluk bulletin board is here propped up on a stand.
The long-braided white haired man is sitting at a compact agafari table.
The robust, head-shaven man stands patiently behind the bar.
The slender, pitch-haired young man is standing here.
The stocky, crooked-nose man is sitting at a compact agafari table.
The chubby, brown-haired man is standing here.
The sinewy, weather-worn man is standing here.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman is standing here.
The tall, scarred human is sitting at a compact agafari table.
The fuzzy, red-streaked pup is here on a leash tied to the bar.
The stocky, clean-shaven man is standing here.
The lanky, jade-eyed youth lounges at the bar.
The ancient, tremulous man sits at a far table, chatting to some youngsters.
Leaning against one wall, a curly-haired man keeps an eye on the tavern.
The black-bearded, heavyset man leans against the bar, frowning.
Sitting at a booth, the rangy, iron-haired woman converses with some hunters.
The toned, ruby-red half-giant sits cross-legged beside the bar.
The long-braided white haired man grunts softly as a slice of ginka pie land straight into his new large spiked wooden shield with a frown.
The chubby, brown-haired man exclaims to the stocky, clean-shaven man, in sirihish:
"Get a full one...!"
You give your slice of ginka pie to the ethereal, fair-haired woman, throwing it over the heads of a pair of surprised merchants toward her.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman says, in sirihish:
"... We drank... 'em... dry..."
The stocky, clean-shaven man picks up a bleached wooden cask.
The spiral-scarred black woman crows triumphantly at the ethereal, fair-haired woman's words.
The long-braided white haired man keeps his new large spiked wooden shield over his head.
Chuckling as he rises to his feet, the tall, scarred human says, in sirihish:
"This could get bad..."
The tall, scarred human stands up from a compact agafari table.
The stocky, clean-shaven man grunts and retrieves his bleached wooden cask from the bar, shaking his head.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman blinks in surprise, not even noticing as a ginka pie comes flying at her head.
The stocky, clean-shaven man exclaims, in sirihish:
"Not this one!"
With a the jauntiest salute she can muster, you get your slice of ginka pie from your long, durrit-hide sack.
It is very light.
With a laugh, the chubby, brown-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Hurry up...I can't hang on much longer...good thing I learned wrestling..."
The stocky, clean-shaven man lumbers across the room, carrying his bleached wooden cask over toward you, held out in front of him as a shield.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman gulps, freezing as globs of ginka pour down her hair and into her laced lavender silk blouse.
With a neat overhand toss at the stocky, clean-shaven man, you drop your slice of ginka pie, laughing wickedly.
Shown to the room as:
A slice of ginka pie lies on the ground, uneaten.
You get your slice of ginka pie from your long, durrit-hide sack.
It is very light.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman wets her lips as she gathers up bits of pie from her body.
The stocky, clean-shaven man holds his bleached wooden cask up in defense and catches the pie full on. It explodes, sending ginka-shrapnel -everywhere-.
Carefully dabbing it on her face first, you eat your slice of ginka pie.
You are a little hungry.
The chubby, brown-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Mynkas...Nahkt...Agents need some help here...head first...three times in the spiced ginka..."
The long-braided white haired man keeps his new large spiked wooden shield over his head frowning slightly as pie is thrown about the room.
Peeling the ginka-covered one off first, then the clean one, the slender, pitch-haired young man stops using his pair of deep blue, purple-trimmed silk sleeves.
Leaning heavily against a curved, agafari bar, the ethereal, fair-haired woman asks the slender, pitch-haired young man, in sirihish:
"... Agent Mika?"
The sinewy, weather-worn man move up to the chubby, brown-haired man witha quick step and takes hold of you.
The long-braided white haired man looks up at the slender, pitch-haired young man.
The stocky, clean-shaven man pops the cork on his bleached wooden cask and lifts it, trying to pour as much as he can over you... and the chubby, brown-haired man.
Renewing her squirming efforts heartily, you exclaim to the chubby, brown-haired man, in sirihish:
"I'll get away unless you say four dunks!"
Grinning, the chubby, brown-haired man says to the stocky, clean-shaven man, in sirihish:
"Hey...not on me..."
The chubby, brown-haired man exclaims, in sirihish:
"Four!"
The tall, scarred human splutters as ginka pie and shrapnel rain over him.
The chubby, brown-haired man opens his mouth, trying to take some of the wine in his mouth.
The stocky, clean-shaven man drops a bleached wooden cask.
After tucking the sleeves away with a chuckle, the slender, pitch-haired young man asks the ethereal, fair-haired woman, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Hm?"
The ethereal, fair-haired woman takes her ginka-filled hand and rubs it over the slender, pitch-haired young man's face.
Looking his messy, stained self over, the stocky, clean-shaven man says, in sirihish:
"I should go chase down Zaea and give her a big hug."
With a wink, the chubby, brown-haired man says to the stocky, clean-shaven man, in sirihish:
"Sounds like a good plan."
The sinewy, weather-worn man stands well back from you to avoid your flailing limbs, laughing heartily all the while.
Standing a moment in shock, mouth opened to say something and face covered in pie, the slender, pitch-haired young man catches an arm around the ethereal, fair-haired woman's waist to hold her up as he begins to laugh.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman laughs, body shaking as she presses a ginka-stained face into the slender, pitch-haired young man's shoulder.
The spiral-scarred black woman struggles to her feet, brushing sheets of slimy ginka from your flowing black-silk dancing skirt.
The chubby, brown-haired man sits down to rest.
At a compact agafari table, you overhear the stocky, crooked-nose man say in sirihish, shaking his head as he looks upon all the pie everywhere:
"Glad I picked this time to sit, away from them...its more fun to watch..."
Blowing a kiss, the spiral-scarred black woman flicks bits of gooey pie at the chubby, brown-haired man, taking a deep breath.
Clapping out a steady beat with both hands, you sing, in sirihish:
"I don't believe there's anything as sweet as ginka pie,
If it be melting in your mouth or dripping down your eye."
The chubby, brown-haired man picks up whatever pie he can find and tries to put it in your face.
Gargling with a shriek of laughter as she tries to avoid the chubby, brown-haired man, you sing, in sirihish:
"Its golden-brown exterior is really quite exquisite,
Its scrumptious fruity innards beckon you to visit."
Her a face dripping mess, flicking a grin to the sinewy, weather-worn man, you sing, in sirihish:
"There's nothing in this world of ours as sweet as ginka pie,
Dip your tongue into its warmth, it always will comply."
Licking the pie away very slowly, to the chubby, brown-haired man, you sing, in sirihish:
"Wiggle it around a bit until you find a nubbin
Of ginka fruit beneath your tooth and slather it with lovin'."
With a cheeky smile around the room as she claps the rhythm, you sing, in sirihish:
"There's simply nothing in the world as sweet as ginka pie,
I hope today by sharing them I've won you to my side."
Calling out as she ducks her head and spreads her empty hands, you sing, in sirihish:
"If anyone has got a piece that they have yet to savor,
I bid you all, draw back your arms and now return the favor!"
The spiral-scarred black woman bows, squeezing her eyes shut.
Moving slowly to his feet, the chubby, brown-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Krath...we throw the best parties..."
Tilting his head side to side with a smirk, the stocky, crooked-nose man says to the long-braided white haired man, in sirihish:
"Well there is much more, plenty of people covered in ginka...and more importantly, lovely bardesses covered in ginka-sauce. "
The stocky, clean-shaven man says to the chubby, brown-haired man, in sirihish:
"I declare this one a -complete- success."
The slender, pitch-haired young man puts his knot of black, viscous spice into his leather-strapped, rich purple satchel.
Nodding in agreement, an arm still wrapped protectively around a bleached wooden cask, the tall, scarred human says, in sirihish:
"Best parties ever."
The stocky, clean-shaven man says to the chubby, brown-haired man, in sirihish:
"So now we have to top this one... and keep it going... for three weeks straight."
The stocky, clean-shaven man grins.
Raising a slice of ginka pie, you say to the stocky, crooked-nose man, in sirihish:
"I concur. To you two."
The long-braided white haired man smiles looking about pie covered people letting out a loud laugh before looking back at the stocky, crooked-nose man.
The slender, pitch-haired young man slants a smirk at the ethereal, fair-haired woman, wiping his curls back as they stick to his forehead.
The spiral-scarred black woman turns a slice of ginka pie to the chubby, brown-haired man, casually letting it slide out of her hand at him.
The long-braided white haired man looks over at you raising his new large spiked wooden shield covering most of his body.
Slipping, grinning to the long-braided white haired man, you stand up.
The chubby, brown-haired man doesn't even blink as the pie strikes him in the chest.
Her hand leaving smears on the smooth leather, you get your light brown, leather instrument case from your long, durrit-hide sack.
It is very light, and about half full.
As he pounds his fist upon the table, the stocky, crooked-nose man says to you, in sirihish:
"You get him Tsenna, leave no part uncovered. "
Glancing assessingly at the chubby, brown-haired man, you ask the stocky, clean-shaven man, in sirihish:
"No part?"
With a smile, the chubby, brown-haired man says to you, in sirihish:
"Can't get to all my parts in here though..."
The slender, pitch-haired young man says to the chubby, brown-haired man, in southern-accented sirihish:
"I wouldn't bet on it. You challenge her, she'll get you."
Turning to address the crowd, you say, in sirihish:
"In His Light, all."
The ethereal, fair-haired woman says to you, in sirihish:
"... S'a good pie."
Lifting a hand, the sinewy, weather-worn man says to you, in sirihish:
"Shade."
The spiral-scarred black woman slides and slips toward the door, pausing once to survey the chaotic room.
You think:
"Without a hitch, Tsenna, without a hitch!"
"The Tembo's Tooth" - Tavern [EWD Quit]
Smooth, sanded cylini planks have been laid across the floor of this
cramped room, their polished surface flickering in the lights of the candles.
Dark stains splatter the wooden floor at odd intervals, disrupting the
otherwise smooth contour...
Continue Reading...Playing in the Silt by Rufus
Added on Jun 24, 2007This log is from 8/6/2006, from one of my Silt Winds. Looking back on my younger days, I thought the roleplay in this was pretty nifty, and I'd like to show everyone else.
Sai, our 'hero' of sorts, has just come into the Silt Wind hideout from a hard day's work of Desert-Elfing and has decided to chill out.
Note: He's not really a Drovian, he just thought the robes were cool.
The figure in a set of hooded, shadow-grey robes spots a crude leather bag on the floor.
130H/95V/83T/running/standing>get 2.bag
You pick up a crude leather bag.
It is no problem, and more than half full.
130H/95V/85T/running/standing>sit (smiling)
Smiling, you sit down.
130H/95V/87T/running/sitting>l
Living Room [WU]
Solid wooden stairs descend into this wide-open room used for eating and
lounging, a living room. A long, wooden table has been fashioned from old
scraps of wood, forming a large U in the center of the room. About the
table, inside and out, cushions and odds and ends lie about in baskets and
packs.
A small tube of rolled spice lies here on the ground.
A little book of rolling papers is left here, abandoned.
A large bag is lying here.
A crude bag made of patchwork leather pieces lies on the ground.
A dusty dusty backpack of leather lies here.
A backpack made from the hide of a jozhal is lying here.
A wooden meat rack made of agafari poles stands here.
130H/95V/87T/running/sitting>l w
West of here are Among the Bunks.
[Near]
Nothing.
130H/107V/87T/running/sitting>rest
You rest your tired bones.
130H/119V/93T/running/resting>l in bag
In a crude leather bag (carried) :
a deck of Kruth cards
a pair of yellow-stained bone dice
a stone spider
a couple of mantis gladiator figurines
a halfling gladiator figurine
a mulish gladiator figurine
a handful of grass stalks
a long, wickedly sharp fang
a stiff white feather
a grey marble cone
a stout yypr branch
a worn clay statuette of a humanoid
a partially whittled piece of wood
a scrap of parchment
...An idea has struck our happy-go-lucky, easy-going sharp-ear...
130H/119V/93T/running/resting>get cone bag
You get a grey marble cone from a crude leather bag.
It is very light.
130H/119V/93T/running/resting>drop cone ~ is here, standing upright.
You drop a grey marble cone. Shown to the room as:
A grey marble cone is here, standing upright.
130H/131V/101T/running/resting>get branch bag
You get a stout yypr branch from a crude leather bag.
It is very light.
130H/131V/105T/running/resting>l branch
This is a thick, stout branch from a yypr tree. With its pale grey bark
and nearly white wood, this hard wood is prized for its durability and
sturdiness.
130H/131V/113T/running/resting>drop branch ~ is standing next to a grey marble cone.
You drop a stout yypr branch. Shown to the room as:
A stout yypr branch is standing next to a grey marble cone.
130H/167V/117T/running/resting>l
Living Room [WU]
Solid wooden stairs descend into this wide-open room used for eating and
lounging, a living room. A long, wooden table has been fashioned from old
scraps of wood, forming a large U in the center of the room. About the
table, inside and out, cushions and odds and ends lie about in baskets and
packs.
A stout yypr branch is standing next to a grey marble cone.
A grey marble cone is here, standing upright.
A small tube of rolled spice lies here on the ground.
A little book of rolling papers is left here, abandoned.
A large bag is lying here.
A crude bag made of patchwork leather pieces lies on the ground.
A dusty dusty backpack of leather lies here.
A backpack made from the hide of a jozhal is lying here.
A wooden meat rack made of agafari poles stands here.
130H/167V/117T/running/resting>say (quietly)Okay.. that's the gem..
Quietly, you say, in allundean:
"Okay.. that's the gem.."
130H/167V/117T/running/resting>l in bag
In a crude leather bag (carried) :
a deck of Kruth cards
a pair of yellow-stained bone dice
a stone spider
a couple of mantis gladiator figurines
a halfling gladiator figurine
a mulish gladiator figurine
a handful of grass stalks
a long, wickedly sharp fang
a stiff white feather
a worn clay statuette of a humanoid
a partially whittled piece of wood
a scrap of parchment
130H/167V/117T/running/resting>get mantis bag
You get a mantis gladiator figurine from a crude leather bag.
It is very light.
130H/167V/117T/running/resting>drop mantis ~ is standing here, by the cone and branch.
You drop a mantis gladiator figurine. Shown to the room as:
A mantis gladiator figurine is standing here, by the cone and branch.
130H/167V/121T/running/resting>get handful bag
You get a handful of grass stalks from a crude leather bag.
It is very light.
130H/167V/121T/running/resting>l handful
These grass stalks vary in length between two and four cords. Their
color is umber and brown, rippling between the two in a pleasing, mottled
pattern.
130H/167V/125T/running/resting>drop handful ~ is a cord southwest from the cone and branch.
You drop a handful of grass stalks. Shown to the room as:
A handful of grass stalks is a cord southwest from the cone and branch.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>l
Living Room [WU]
Solid wooden stairs descend into this wide-open room used for eating and
lounging, a living room. A long, wooden table has been fashioned from old
scraps of wood, forming a large U in the center of the room. About the
table, inside and out, cushions and odds and ends lie about in baskets and
packs.
A handful of grass stalks is a cord southwest from the cone and branch.
A mantis gladiator figurine is standing here, by the cone and branch.
A stout yypr branch is standing next to a grey marble cone.
A grey marble cone is here, standing upright.
A small tube of rolled spice lies here on the ground.
A little book of rolling papers is left here, abandoned.
A large bag is lying here.
A crude bag made of patchwork leather pieces lies on the ground.
A dusty dusty backpack of leather lies here.
A backpack made from the hide of a jozhal is lying here.
A wooden meat rack made of agafari poles stands here.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>say (adjusting ~handful)That's the valley..
Adjusting a handful of grass stalks, you say, in allundean:
"That's the valley.."
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>l in bag
In a crude leather bag (carried) :
a deck of Kruth cards
a pair of yellow-stained bone dice
a stone spider
a mantis gladiator figurine
a halfling gladiator figurine
a mulish gladiator figurine
a long, wickedly sharp fang
a stiff white feather
a worn clay statuette of a humanoid
a partially whittled piece of wood
a scrap of parchment
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>get worn bag
You get a worn clay statuette of a humanoid from a crude leather bag.
It is very light.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>l worn
The red clay of this statuette has been worn down to the point of marring
the features of the humanoid it depicts. Small indentations exist where the
mouth or eyes once sunk into its diminutive face, an inky-black color
tainting the holes. The statuette is half a cord in height and easily
clutched in one's hand.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>drop worn ~ is standing here, by the cone and branch.
You drop a worn clay statuette of a humanoid. Shown to the room as:
A worn clay statuette of a humanoid is standing here, by the cone and branch.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>get mantis bag
You get a mantis gladiator figurine from a crude leather bag.
It is very light.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>put mantis bag
You put a mantis gladiator figurine inside a crude leather bag.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>l in bag
In a crude leather bag (carried) :
a mantis gladiator figurine
a deck of Kruth cards
a pair of yellow-stained bone dice
a stone spider
a halfling gladiator figurine
a mulish gladiator figurine
a long, wickedly sharp fang
a stiff white feather
a partially whittled piece of wood
a scrap of parchment
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>get wood bag
You get a partially whittled piece of wood from a crude leather bag.
It is very light.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>drop wood ~ is laying here, about four cords northeast of the cone and branch.
You drop a partially whittled piece of wood. Shown to the room as:
A partially whittled piece of wood is laying here, about four cords northeast of the cone and branch.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>say (shifting ~wood)The Grey..
Shifting a partially whittled piece of wood, you say, in allundean:
"The Grey.."
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>l in bag
In a crude leather bag (carried) :
a mantis gladiator figurine
a deck of Kruth cards
a pair of yellow-stained bone dice
a stone spider
a halfling gladiator figurine
a mulish gladiator figurine
a long, wickedly sharp fang
a stiff white feather
a scrap of parchment
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>l
Living Room [WU]
Solid wooden stairs descend into this wide-open room used for eating and
lounging, a living room. A long, wooden table has been fashioned from old
scraps of wood, forming a large U in the center of the room. About the
table, inside and out, cushions and odds and ends lie about in baskets and
packs.
A partially whittled piece of wood is laying here, about four cords northeast of the cone and branch.
A worn clay statuette of a humanoid is standing here, by the cone and branch.
A handful of grass stalks is a cord southwest from the cone and branch.
A mantis gladiator figurine is standing here, by the cone and branch.
A stout yypr branch is standing next to a grey marble cone.
A grey marble cone is here, standing upright.
A small tube of rolled spice lies here on the ground.
A little book of rolling papers is left here, abandoned.
A large bag is lying here.
A crude bag made of patchwork leather pieces lies on the ground.
A dusty dusty backpack of leather lies here.
A backpack made from the hide of a jozhal is lying here.
A wooden meat rack made of agafari poles stands here.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>get spider bag
You get a stone spider from a crude leather bag.
It is very light.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>put spider bag
You put a stone spider inside a crude leather bag.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>l in bag
In a crude leather bag (carried) :
a stone spider
a mantis gladiator figurine
a deck of Kruth cards
a pair of yellow-stained bone dice
a halfling gladiator figurine
a mulish gladiator figurine
a long, wickedly sharp fang
a stiff white feather
a scrap of parchment
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>:peers into ~bag.
The figure in a set of hooded, shadow-grey robes peers into your crude leather bag.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>get spider bag
You get a stone spider from a crude leather bag.
It is very light.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>drop spider ~ is next to the humanoid.
You drop a stone spider. Shown to the room as:
A stone spider is next to the humanoid.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>
You are a little hungry.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>say (chuckling as he sets ~spider down)That can be Kilik..
Chuckling as he sets a stone spider down, you say, in allundean:
"That can be Kilik.."
If only Kilik was around to see what his tribe brother was doing.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>i
You are carrying:
a crude leather bag
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>get mantis bag
You get a mantis gladiator figurine from a crude leather bag.
It is very light.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>drop mantis ~ is by the other mantis figurine.
You drop a mantis gladiator figurine. Shown to the room as:
A mantis gladiator figurine is by the other mantis figurine.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>l
Living Room [WU]
Solid wooden stairs descend into this wide-open room used for eating and
lounging, a living room. A long, wooden table has been fashioned from old
scraps of wood, forming a large U in the center of the room. About the
table, inside and out, cushions and odds and ends lie about in baskets and
packs.
A stone spider is next to the humanoid.
A partially whittled piece of wood is laying here, about four cords northeast of the cone and branch.
A worn clay statuette of a humanoid is standing here, by the cone and branch.
A handful of grass stalks is a cord southwest from the cone and branch.
A mantis gladiator figurine is by the other mantis figurine.
A mantis gladiator figurine is standing here, by the cone and branch.
A stout yypr branch is standing next to a grey marble cone.
A grey marble cone is here, standing upright.
A small tube of rolled spice lies here on the ground.
A little book of rolling papers is left here, abandoned.
A large bag is lying here.
A crude bag made of patchwork leather pieces lies on the ground.
A dusty dusty backpack of leather lies here.
A backpack made from the hide of a jozhal is lying here.
A wooden meat rack made of agafari poles stands here.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>l in bag
In a crude leather bag (carried) :
a deck of Kruth cards
a pair of yellow-stained bone dice
a halfling gladiator figurine
a mulish gladiator figurine
a long, wickedly sharp fang
a stiff white feather
a scrap of parchment
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>get halfling bag
You get a halfling gladiator figurine from a crude leather bag.
It is very light.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>drop halfling ~ is standing by the piece of wood.
You drop a halfling gladiator figurine. Shown to the room as:
A halfling gladiator figurine is standing by the piece of wood.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>l in bag
In a crude leather bag (carried) :
a deck of Kruth cards
a pair of yellow-stained bone dice
a mulish gladiator figurine
a long, wickedly sharp fang
a stiff white feather
a scrap of parchment
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>get mul bag
The bag does not contain 'mul'.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>get mulish bag
You get a mulish gladiator figurine from a crude leather bag.
It is very light.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>l mulish
This small figure is crudely carved of bone, rubbed with a reddish stain.
It depicts a snarling mul dressed in gladiatorial gear, a large club
upraised.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>l
Living Room [WU]
Solid wooden stairs descend into this wide-open room used for eating and
lounging, a living room. A long, wooden table has been fashioned from old
scraps of wood, forming a large U in the center of the room. About the
table, inside and out, cushions and odds and ends lie about in baskets and
packs.
A halfling gladiator figurine is standing by the piece of wood.
A stone spider is next to the humanoid.
A partially whittled piece of wood is laying here, about four cords northeast of the cone and branch.
A worn clay statuette of a humanoid is standing here, by the cone and branch.
A handful of grass stalks is a cord southwest from the cone and branch.
A mantis gladiator figurine is by the other mantis figurine.
A mantis gladiator figurine is standing here, by the cone and branch.
A stout yypr branch is standing next to a grey marble cone.
A grey marble cone is here, standing upright.
A small tube of rolled spice lies here on the ground.
A little book of rolling papers is left here, abandoned.
A large bag is lying here.
A crude bag made of patchwork leather pieces lies on the ground.
A dusty dusty backpack of leather lies here.
A backpack made from the hide of a jozhal is lying here.
A wooden meat rack made of agafari poles stands here.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>l in bag
In a crude leather bag (carried) :
a deck of Kruth cards
a pair of yellow-stained bone dice
a long, wickedly sharp fang
a stiff white feather
a scrap of parchment
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>i
You are carrying:
a crude leather bag
a mulish gladiator figurine
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>drop mulish ~ is standing next to the cone and branch.
You drop a mulish gladiator figurine. Shown to the room as:
A mulish gladiator figurine is standing next to the cone and branch.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>l
Living Room [WU]
Solid wooden stairs descend into this wide-open room used for eating and
lounging, a living room. A long, wooden table has been fashioned from old
scraps of wood, forming a large U in the center of the room. About the
table, inside and out, cushions and odds and ends lie about in baskets and
packs.
A mulish gladiator figurine is standing next to the cone and branch.
A halfling gladiator figurine is standing by the piece of wood.
A stone spider is next to the humanoid.
A partially whittled piece of wood is laying here, about four cords northeast of the cone and branch.
A worn clay statuette of a humanoid is standing here, by the cone and branch.
A handful of grass stalks is a cord southwest from the cone and branch.
A mantis gladiator figurine is by the other mantis figurine.
A mantis gladiator figurine is standing here, by the cone and branch.
A stout yypr branch is standing next to a grey marble cone.
A grey marble cone is here, standing upright.
A small tube of rolled spice lies here on the ground.
A little book of rolling papers is left here, abandoned.
A large bag is lying here.
A crude bag made of patchwork leather pieces lies on the ground.
A dusty dusty backpack of leather lies here.
A backpack made from the hide of a jozhal is lying here.
A wooden meat rack made of agafari poles stands here.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>say (holding onto ~spider)Kin-Sai, what will we do, surrounded by mantiseses?!
Holding onto a stone spider, you exclaim, in allundean:
"Kin-Sai, what will we do, surrounded by mantiseses?!"
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>say (holding onto ~worn)We'll have to run!
Holding onto your dusty worn, carru-hide pack, you exclaim, in allundean:
"We'll have to run!"
An obvious mis-direct in keywords, but who doesn't make those?
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>l in pack
In a dusty worn, carru-hide pack (used) :
an unlit rag-wrapped agafari torch
a mantis-shell breastplate
a couple of crumbling red tablets
an empty patched leather waterskin
a few scraps of cloth
an obsidian hide-scraper
a pile of blue leaves
a pale grey feather
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>say (moving ~spider over to a mantis)No, I can fight them!
Moving a stone spider over to a mantis, you exclaim, in allundean:
"No, I can fight them!"
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>:smashes ~mantis onto ~spider.
The figure in a set of hooded, shadow-grey robes smashes a mantis gladiator figurine onto a stone spider.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>:hops ~spider onto ~mantis, bouncing it a few times.
The figure in a set of hooded, shadow-grey robes hops a stone spider onto a mantis gladiator figurine, bouncing it a few times.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>:twists ~mantis around, slashing into ~spider.
The figure in a set of hooded, shadow-grey robes twists a mantis gladiator figurine around, slashing into a stone spider.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>say (pulling ~mulish over to ~spider)I can help!
Pulling a mulish gladiator figurine over to a stone spider, you exclaim, in allundean:
"I can help!"
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>:pushes ~mulish into ~mantis.
The figure in a set of hooded, shadow-grey robes pushes a mulish gladiator figurine into a mantis gladiator figurine.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>:slams ~mantis into ~mulish, sending him to the ground with a powerful bash!
The figure in a set of hooded, shadow-grey robes slams a mantis gladiator figurine into a mulish gladiator figurine, sending him to the ground with a powerful bash!
Pwnt.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>say (pulling ~spider out of the area of the cone and branch)Okay, let's run.
Pulling a stone spider out of the area of the cone and branch, you say, in allundean:
"Okay, let's run."
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>:pushes ~spider and ~statuette a cord north of the branch and cone.
The figure in a set of hooded, shadow-grey robes pushes a stone spider and a worn clay statuette of a humanoid a cord north of the branch and cone.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>get spider
You pick up a stone spider.
It is very light.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>get statuette
You pick up a worn clay statuette of a humanoid.
It is very light.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>drop spider ~ is here, one cord north of the cone and branch
You drop a stone spider. Shown to the room as:
A stone spider is here, one cord north of the cone and branch.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>drop statuette ~ is here, one cord north of the cone and branch
You drop a worn clay statuette of a humanoid. Shown to the room as:
A worn clay statuette of a humanoid is here, one cord north of the cone and branch.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>l
Living Room [WU]
Solid wooden stairs descend into this wide-open room used for eating and
lounging, a living room. A long, wooden table has been fashioned from old
scraps of wood, forming a large U in the center of the room. About the
table, inside and out, cushions and odds and ends lie about in baskets and
packs.
A worn clay statuette of a humanoid is here, one cord north of the cone and branch.
A stone spider is here, one cord north of the cone and branch.
A mulish gladiator figurine is standing next to the cone and branch.
A halfling gladiator figurine is standing by the piece of wood.
A partially whittled piece of wood is laying here, about four cords northeast of the cone and branch.
A handful of grass stalks is a cord southwest from the cone and branch.
A mantis gladiator figurine is by the other mantis figurine.
A mantis gladiator figurine is standing here, by the cone and branch.
A stout yypr branch is standing next to a grey marble cone.
A grey marble cone is here, standing upright.
A small tube of rolled spice lies here on the ground.
A little book of rolling papers is left here, abandoned.
A large bag is lying here.
A crude bag made of patchwork leather pieces lies on the ground.
A dusty dusty backpack of leather lies here.
A backpack made from the hide of a jozhal is lying here.
A wooden meat rack made of agafari poles stands here.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>:makes chewing noises as he piles the two mantis figurines onto ~mulish.
The figure in a set of hooded, shadow-grey robes makes chewing noises as he piles the two mantis figurines onto a mulish gladiator figurine.
Yum.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>get mulish
You pick up a mulish gladiator figurine.
It is very light.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>drop mulish ~ is laying near the cone and branch.
You drop a mulish gladiator figurine. Shown to the room as:
A mulish gladiator figurine is laying near the cone and branch.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>chang ldesc is laying here, playing with figurines.
Your new ldesc is:
The figure in a set of hooded, shadow-grey robes is laying here, playing with figurines.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>say (hopping ~spider up and down)Now where do we go?!
Hopping a stone spider up and down, you exclaim, in allundean:
"Now where do we go?!"
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>say (grabbing onto ~statuette)We'll have to goto the Grey Forest, the mantis will never find us there!
Grabbing onto a worn clay statuette of a humanoid, you exclaim, in allundean:
"We'll have to goto the Grey Forest, the mantis will never find us there!"
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>:pushes ~spider and ~statuette to ~wood.
The figure in a set of hooded, shadow-grey robes pushes a stone spider and a worn clay statuette of a humanoid to a partially whittled piece of wood.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>get spider
You pick up a stone spider.
It is very light.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>get statuette
You pick up a worn clay statuette of a humanoid.
It is very light.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>drop spider ~ is here, near a piece of wood.
You drop a stone spider. Shown to the room as:
A stone spider is here, near a piece of wood.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>drop statuette ~ is here, near a piece of wood.
You drop a worn clay statuette of a humanoid. Shown to the room as:
A worn clay statuette of a humanoid is here, near a piece of wood.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>l
Living Room [WU]
Solid wooden stairs descend into this wide-open room used for eating and
lounging, a living room. A long, wooden table has been fashioned from old
scraps of wood, forming a large U in the center of the room. About the
table, inside and out, cushions and odds and ends lie about in baskets and
packs.
A worn clay statuette of a humanoid is here, near a piece of wood.
A stone spider is here, near a piece of wood.
A mulish gladiator figurine is laying near the cone and branch.
A halfling gladiator figurine is standing by the piece of wood.
A partially whittled piece of wood is laying here, about four cords northeast of the cone and branch.
A handful of grass stalks is a cord southwest from the cone and branch.
A mantis gladiator figurine is by the other mantis figurine.
A mantis gladiator figurine is standing here, by the cone and branch.
A stout yypr branch is standing next to a grey marble cone.
A grey marble cone is here, standing upright.
A small tube of rolled spice lies here on the ground.
A little book of rolling papers is left here, abandoned.
A large bag is lying here.
A crude bag made of patchwork leather pieces lies on the ground.
A dusty dusty backpack of leather lies here.
A backpack made from the hide of a jozhal is lying here.
A wooden meat rack made of agafari poles stands here.
And so our D&D-miniature-sized heroes escape the mantis clutch, only to find themselves to be dinner for another host.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>say (panting, holding onto ~statuette)Okay, I think we lost them.
Panting, holding onto a worn clay statuette of a humanoid, you say, in allundean:
"Okay, I think we lost them."
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>say (turning ~spider around to glance southwest)Yeah.
Turning a stone spider around to glance southwest, you say, in allundean:
"Yeah."
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>:chitters as he returns the two mantis figurines to ~handful.
The figure in a set of hooded, shadow-grey robes chitters as he returns the two mantis figurines to a handful of grass stalks.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>get mantis
You pick up a mantis gladiator figurine.
It is very light.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>get mantis
You pick up a mantis gladiator figurine.
It is very light.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>drop mantis ~ is here, standing on a handful of grass stalks.
You drop a mantis gladiator figurine. Shown to the room as:
A mantis gladiator figurine is here, standing on a handful of grass stalks.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>drop mantis ~ is here, standing on a handful of grass stalks.
You drop a mantis gladiator figurine. Shown to the room as:
A mantis gladiator figurine is here, standing on a handful of grass stalks.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>l
Living Room [WU]
Solid wooden stairs descend into this wide-open room used for eating and
lounging, a living room. A long, wooden table has been fashioned from old
scraps of wood, forming a large U in the center of the room. About the
table, inside and out, cushions and odds and ends lie about in baskets and
packs.
A couple of mantis gladiator figurines is here, standing on a handful of grass stalks.
A worn clay statuette of a humanoid is here, near a piece of wood.
A stone spider is here, near a piece of wood.
A mulish gladiator figurine is laying near the cone and branch.
A halfling gladiator figurine is standing by the piece of wood.
A partially whittled piece of wood is laying here, about four cords northeast of the cone and branch.
A handful of grass stalks is a cord southwest from the cone and branch.
A stout yypr branch is standing next to a grey marble cone.
A grey marble cone is here, standing upright.
A small tube of rolled spice lies here on the ground.
A little book of rolling papers is left here, abandoned.
A large bag is lying here.
A crude bag made of patchwork leather pieces lies on the ground.
A dusty dusty backpack of leather lies here.
A backpack made from the hide of a jozhal is lying here.
A wooden meat rack made of agafari poles stands here.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>:quietly pulls ~halfling over to ~spider.
The figure in a set of hooded, shadow-grey robes quietly pulls a halfling gladiator figurine over to a stone spider.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>:jumps ~halfling onto ~spider.
The figure in a set of hooded, shadow-grey robes jumps a halfling gladiator figurine onto a stone spider.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>shout Aaaaaaah!
You shout in allundean:
"Aaaaaaah!"
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>:smashes ~halfling on top of ~spider.
The figure in a set of hooded, shadow-grey robes smashes a halfling gladiator figurine on top of a stone spider.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>:quickly pushes ~spider and ~statuette away from ~halfling.
The figure in a set of hooded, shadow-grey robes quickly pushes a stone spider and a worn clay statuette of a humanoid away from a halfling gladiator figurine.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>get spider
You pick up a stone spider.
It is very light.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>get statuette
You pick up a worn clay statuette of a humanoid.
It is very light.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>drop spider ~ is here, two cords southeast of a piece of wood.
You drop a stone spider. Shown to the room as:
A stone spider is here, two cords southeast of a piece of wood.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>drop statuette ~ is here, two cords southeast of a piece of wood.
You drop a worn clay statuette of a humanoid. Shown to the room as:
A worn clay statuette of a humanoid is here, two cords southeast of a piece of wood.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>l
Living Room [WU]
Solid wooden stairs descend into this wide-open room used for eating and
lounging, a living room. A long, wooden table has been fashioned from old
scraps of wood, forming a large U in the center of the room. About the
table, inside and out, cushions and odds and ends lie about in baskets and
packs.
A worn clay statuette of a humanoid is here, two cords southeast of a piece of wood.
A stone spider is here, two cords southeast of a piece of wood.
A couple of mantis gladiator figurines is here, standing on a handful of grass stalks.
A mulish gladiator figurine is laying near the cone and branch.
A halfling gladiator figurine is standing by the piece of wood.
A partially whittled piece of wood is laying here, about four cords northeast of the cone and branch.
A handful of grass stalks is a cord southwest from the cone and branch.
A stout yypr branch is standing next to a grey marble cone.
A grey marble cone is here, standing upright.
A small tube of rolled spice lies here on the ground.
A little book of rolling papers is left here, abandoned.
A large bag is lying here.
A crude bag made of patchwork leather pieces lies on the ground.
A dusty dusty backpack of leather lies here.
A backpack made from the hide of a jozhal is lying here.
A wooden meat rack made of agafari poles stands here.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>say (panting as he holds onto ~spider)What was that?!
Panting as he holds onto a stone spider, you exclaim, in allundean:
"What was that?!"
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>:tips ~spider over, groaning.
The figure in a set of hooded, shadow-grey robes tips a stone spider over, groaning.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>say (turning ~statuette about)Looked like a shorty1
Turning a worn clay statuette of a humanoid about, you say, in allundean:
"Looked like a shorty1"
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>say (turning ~statuette about)Looked like a shorty!
Turning a worn clay statuette of a humanoid about, you exclaim, in allundean:
"Looked like a shorty!"
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>say (bouncing ~spider around)Damn shorties!
Bouncing a stone spider around, you exclaim, in allundean:
"Damn shorties!"
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>say (holding onto ~statuette)Okay, let's goto the White Pit and get away from the shorties!
Holding onto a worn clay statuette of a humanoid, you exclaim, in allundean:
"Okay, let's goto the White Pit and get away from the shorties!"
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>
l in bag
You are a little hungry.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>In a crude leather bag (carried) :
a deck of Kruth cards
a pair of yellow-stained bone dice
a long, wickedly sharp fang
a stiff white feather
a scrap of parchment
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>get feather bag
You get a stiff white feather from a crude leather bag.
It is very light.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>drop feather ~ is here, a cord away from a piece of wood.
You drop a stiff white feather. Shown to the room as:
A stiff white feather is here, a cord away from a piece of wood.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>say (poking at ~feather)White Pit..
Poking at your dusty stiff white feather, you say, in allundean:
"White Pit.."
White/Ivory Pit = Tuluk, for those of you not awesome enough to know the desert lingo.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>l
Living Room [WU]
Solid wooden stairs descend into this wide-open room used for eating and
lounging, a living room. A long, wooden table has been fashioned from old
scraps of wood, forming a large U in the center of the room. About the
table, inside and out, cushions and odds and ends lie about in baskets and
packs.
A stiff white feather is here, a cord away from a piece of wood.
A worn clay statuette of a humanoid is here, two cords southeast of a piece of wood.
A stone spider is here, two cords southeast of a piece of wood.
A couple of mantis gladiator figurines is here, standing on a handful of grass stalks.
A mulish gladiator figurine is laying near the cone and branch.
A halfling gladiator figurine is standing by the piece of wood.
A partially whittled piece of wood is laying here, about four cords northeast of the cone and branch.
A handful of grass stalks is a cord southwest from the cone and branch.
A stout yypr branch is standing next to a grey marble cone.
A grey marble cone is here, standing upright.
A small tube of rolled spice lies here on the ground.
A little book of rolling papers is left here, abandoned.
A large bag is lying here.
A crude bag made of patchwork leather pieces lies on the ground.
A dusty dusty backpack of leather lies here.
A backpack made from the hide of a jozhal is lying here.
A wooden meat rack made of agafari poles stands here.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>:slowly pushes ~spider and ~statuette to ~2.feather
The figure in a set of hooded, shadow-grey robes slowly pushes a stone spider and a worn clay statuette of a humanoid to a stiff white feather.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>get spider
You pick up a stone spider.
It is very light.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>get statuette
You pick up a worn clay statuette of a humanoid.
It is very light.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>drop spider ~ is here, next to a feather.
You drop a stone spider. Shown to the room as:
A stone spider is here, next to a feather.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>drop statuette ~ is here, next to a feather.
You drop a worn clay statuette of a humanoid. Shown to the room as:
A worn clay statuette of a humanoid is here, next to a feather.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>key clay
In the room:
1.clay - a worn clay statuette of a humanoid
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>l
Living Room [WU]
Solid wooden stairs descend into this wide-open room used for eating and
lounging, a living room. A long, wooden table has been fashioned from old
scraps of wood, forming a large U in the center of the room. About the
table, inside and out, cushions and odds and ends lie about in baskets and
packs.
A worn clay statuette of a humanoid is here, next to a feather.
A stone spider is here, next to a feather.
A stiff white feather is here, a cord away from a piece of wood.
A couple of mantis gladiator figurines is here, standing on a handful of grass stalks.
A mulish gladiator figurine is laying near the cone and branch.
A halfling gladiator figurine is standing by the piece of wood.
A partially whittled piece of wood is laying here, about four cords northeast of the cone and branch.
A handful of grass stalks is a cord southwest from the cone and branch.
A stout yypr branch is standing next to a grey marble cone.
A grey marble cone is here, standing upright.
A small tube of rolled spice lies here on the ground.
A little book of rolling papers is left here, abandoned.
A large bag is lying here.
A crude bag made of patchwork leather pieces lies on the ground.
A dusty dusty backpack of leather lies here.
A backpack made from the hide of a jozhal is lying here.
A wooden meat rack made of agafari poles stands here.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>say (bouncing ~spider up and down)Okay, I'm going to go get some rest!
Bouncing a stone spider up and down, you exclaim, in allundean:
"Okay, I'm going to go get some rest!"
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>say (turning ~clay around)Okay.
Turning a worn clay statuette of a humanoid around, you say, in allundean:
"Okay."
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>l clay
The red clay of this statuette has been worn down to the point of marring
the features of the humanoid it depicts. Small indentations exist where the
mouth or eyes once sunk into its diminutive face, an inky-black color
tainting the holes. The statuette is half a cord in height and easily
clutched in one's hand.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>l in bag
In a crude leather bag (carried) :
a deck of Kruth cards
a pair of yellow-stained bone dice
a long, wickedly sharp fang
a scrap of parchment
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>get deck bag
You get a deck of Kruth cards from a crude leather bag.
It is very light.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>drop deck ~ is here, just northeast of a feather.
You drop a deck of Kruth cards. Shown to the room as:
A deck of Kruth cards is here, just northeast of a feather.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>get spider
You pick up a stone spider.
It is very light.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>:sets ~spider on top of ~deck.
The figure in a set of hooded, shadow-grey robes sets your stone spider on top of a deck of Kruth cards.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>drop spider ~ is here, sitting on a deck of cards.
You drop a stone spider. Shown to the room as:
A stone spider is here, sitting on a deck of cards.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>l
Living Room [WU]
Solid wooden stairs descend into this wide-open room used for eating and
lounging, a living room. A long, wooden table has been fashioned from old
scraps of wood, forming a large U in the center of the room. About the
table, inside and out, cushions and odds and ends lie about in baskets and
packs.
A stone spider is here, sitting on a deck of cards.
A deck of Kruth cards is here, just northeast of a feather.
A worn clay statuette of a humanoid is here, next to a feather.
A stiff white feather is here, a cord away from a piece of wood.
A couple of mantis gladiator figurines is here, standing on a handful of grass stalks.
A mulish gladiator figurine is laying near the cone and branch.
A halfling gladiator figurine is standing by the piece of wood.
A partially whittled piece of wood is laying here, about four cords northeast of the cone and branch.
A handful of grass stalks is a cord southwest from the cone and branch.
A stout yypr branch is standing next to a grey marble cone.
A grey marble cone is here, standing upright.
A small tube of rolled spice lies here on the ground.
A little book of rolling papers is left here, abandoned.
A large bag is lying here.
A crude bag made of patchwork leather pieces lies on the ground.
A dusty dusty backpack of leather lies here.
A backpack made from the hide of a jozhal is lying here.
A wooden meat rack made of agafari poles stands here.
I'm pretty sure I meant the Kruth deck to be the Sanctuary.
Anyway.
And thus, our adventure comes to an end...
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>:sighs, examining the items upon the floor.
The figure in a set of hooded, shadow-grey robes sighs, examining the items upon the floor.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>:pokes at ~deck.
The figure in a set of hooded, shadow-grey robes pokes at a deck of Kruth cards.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>
You are a little hungry.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>say (pushing up)Hungry..
Pushing up, you say, in allundean:
"Hungry.."
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>stand
You stop resting, and stand up.
130H/167V/129T/running/standing>:slowly steps around the figurines on the floor to reach over to ~rack.
The figure in a set of hooded, shadow-grey robes slowly steps around the figurines on the floor to reach over to the meat rack.
130H/167V/129T/running/standing>l in rack
In the meat rack (here) :
a small, tattered pouch of scrub sand
a few purple fruits
a few grey roots
a strip of dark-red meat
a bony leg of meat
a side of whitish meat
a thick, meaty steak
a slab of red-streaked beige meat
a tough slab of dark red meat
a small portion of a tough slab of dark red meat
a purple-tinted goblet
a couple of short bone sparring axes
a couple of slim wooden training axes
some racks of ribs
a few lumps of greasy fat
some hunks of red-streaked meat
a few slim wooden training daggers
a slim wooden training club
130H/167V/129T/running/standing>get strip rack
You get a strip of dark-red meat from the meat rack.
It is very light.
130H/167V/129T/running/standing>get side rack
You get a side of whitish meat from the meat rack.
It is very light.
130H/167V/129T/running/standing>i
You are carrying:
a side of whitish meat
a strip of dark-red meat
a crude leather bag
130H/167V/129T/running/standing>eat meat (chewing slowly)
Chewing slowly, you eat part of your side of whitish meat.
You are no longer hungry.
130H/167V/129T/running/standing>eat meat
You eat part of your half eaten side of whitish meat.
130H/167V/129T/running/standing>eat meat
You eat your small portion of a side of whitish meat.
130H/167V/129T/running/standing>i
You are carrying:
a strip of dark-red meat
a crude leather bag
130H/167V/129T/running/standing>l
Living Room [WU]
Solid wooden stairs descend into this wide-open room used for eating and
lounging, a living room. A long, wooden table has been fashioned from old
scraps of wood, forming a large U in the center of the room. About the
table, inside and out, cushions and odds and ends lie about in baskets and
packs.
A stone spider is here, sitting on a deck of cards.
A deck of Kruth cards is here, just northeast of a feather.
A worn clay statuette of a humanoid is here, next to a feather.
A stiff white feather is here, a cord away from a piece of wood.
A couple of mantis gladiator figurines is here, standing on a handful of grass stalks.
A mulish gladiator figurine is laying near the cone and branch.
A halfling gladiator figurine is standing by the piece of wood.
A partially whittled piece of wood is laying here, about four cords northeast of the cone and branch.
A handful of grass stalks is a cord southwest from the cone and branch.
A stout yypr branch is standing next to a grey marble cone.
A grey marble cone is here, standing upright.
A small tube of rolled spice lies here on the ground.
A little book of rolling papers is left here, abandoned.
A large bag is lying here.
A crude bag made of patchwork leather pieces lies on the ground.
A dusty dusty backpack of leather lies here.
A backpack made from the hide of a jozhal is lying here.
A wooden meat rack made of agafari poles stands here.
130H/167V/129T/running/standing>i
You are carrying:
a strip of dark-red meat
a crude leather bag
130H/167V/129T/running/standing>eat meat
You eat your strip of dark-red meat.
130H/167V/129T/running/standing>l me
At average height and build for one of his peers, this elven male bares a
tanned, gaunt body covered with many non-descript scars. Upon the very center
of his forehead is a single silver shape, a heavily-inked, full circle,
extending off to the top, bottom left, and bottom right are small lines which
curve away from the circle. The lines coming from the circle suddenly curve
back, growing thinner as they reach the edges of the silvery-inked ball.
Under his red, almond-shaped peepers are two dull-grey lines, flowing with
the shape of the eyes. His frame is wiry, muscles tightly bound beneath the
skin. Elongated and thin are his hands and fingers. Atop his head is a mane
of pure white hair.
The figure in a set of hooded, shadow-grey robes is in excellent condition.
<worn on head> a thick black chitin skullcap
<worn in hair> a dusty stiff white feather
<worn in left ear> a dusty hooked fang
<worn in right ear> a dusty hooked fang
<worn around neck> a dusty inix-shell collar
<throat> a tattoo of a green-toned mantis
<slung across back> a short, barbed zerka
<worn across back> a dusty worn, carru-hide pack
<right shoulder> a blowing wind tattoo
<left shoulder> a blowing wind tattoo
<arms> a tattoo of interlocked rings of flame
<worn around wrist> a durrit-claw bracer
<worn around wrist> a durrit-claw bracer
<worn on hands> a dusty pair of anakore-claw gloves
<worn around body> a set of hooded, shadow-grey robes
<legs> a tattoo of interlocked rings of flame
<worn on right ankle> a ball-tufted tail
130H/167V/129T/running/standing>clean me
You start cleaning.
130H/167V/129T/running/standing>
You dust yourself off.
130H/167V/129T/running/standing>l me
At average height and build for one of his peers, this elven male bares a
tanned, gaunt body covered with many non-descript scars. Upon the very center
of his forehead is a single silver shape, a heavily-inked, full circle,
extending off to the top, bottom left, and bottom right are small lines which
curve away from the circle. The lines coming from the circle suddenly curve
back, growing thinner as they reach the edges of the silvery-inked ball.
Under his red, almond-shaped peepers are two dull-grey lines, flowing with
the shape of the eyes. His frame is wiry, muscles tightly bound beneath the
skin. Elongated and thin are his hands and fingers. Atop his head is a mane
of pure white hair.
The figure in a set of hooded, shadow-grey robes is in excellent condition.
<worn on head> a thick black chitin skullcap
<worn in hair> a stiff white feather
<worn in left ear> a hooked fang
<worn in right ear> a hooked fang
<worn around neck> an inix-shell collar
<throat> a tattoo of a green-toned mantis
<slung across back> a short, barbed zerka
<worn across back> a worn, carru-hide pack
<right shoulder> a blowing wind tattoo
<left shoulder> a blowing wind tattoo
<arms> a tattoo of interlocked rings of flame
<worn around wrist> a durrit-claw bracer
<worn around wrist> a durrit-claw bracer
<worn on hands> a bloodied pair of anakore-claw gloves
<worn around body> a set of hooded, shadow-grey robes
<legs> a tattoo of interlocked rings of flame
<worn on right ankle> a ball-tufted tail
130H/167V/129T/running/standing>rem gloves
You stop using a bloodied pair of anakore-claw gloves.
130H/167V/129T/running/standing>clean gloves blood
You start cleaning.
130H/167V/129T/running/standing>
You work at getting the blood out of a bloodied pair of anakore-claw gloves.
130H/167V/129T/running/standing>clean gloves blood
You start cleaning.
130H/167V/129T/running/standing>
You work at getting the blood out of a bloodied pair of anakore-claw gloves.
130H/167V/129T/running/standing>clean gloves blood
You start cleaning.
130H/167V/129T/running/standing>
But it isn't bloodied?
130H/167V/129T/running/standing>wear gloves
You pull the gloves onto your hands.
130H/167V/129T/running/standing>l me
At average height and build for one of his peers, this elven male bares a
tanned, gaunt body covered with many non-descript scars. Upon the very center
of his forehead is a single silver shape, a heavily-inked, full circle,
extending off to the top, bottom left, and bottom right are small lines which
curve away from the circle. The lines coming from the circle suddenly curve
back, growing thinner as they reach the edges of the silvery-inked ball.
Under his red, almond-shaped peepers are two dull-grey lines, flowing with
the shape of the eyes. His frame is wiry, muscles tightly bound beneath the
skin. Elongated and thin are his hands and fingers. Atop his head is a mane
of pure white hair.
The figure in a set of hooded, shadow-grey robes is in excellent condition.
<worn on head> a thick black chitin skullcap
<worn in hair> a stiff white feather
<worn in left ear> a hooked fang
<worn in right ear> a hooked fang
<worn around neck> an inix-shell collar
<throat> a tattoo of a green-toned mantis
<slung across back> a short, barbed zerka
<worn across back> a worn, carru-hide pack
<right shoulder> a blowing wind tattoo
<left shoulder> a blowing wind tattoo
<arms> a tattoo of interlocked rings of flame
<worn around wrist> a durrit-claw bracer
<worn around wrist> a durrit-claw bracer
<worn on hands> a pair of anakore-claw gloves
<worn around body> a set of hooded, shadow-grey robes
<legs> a tattoo of interlocked rings of flame
<worn on right ankle> a ball-tufted tail
130H/167V/129T/running/standing>l
Living Room [WU]
Solid wooden stairs descend into this wide-open room used for eating and
lounging, a living room. A long, wooden table has been fashioned from old
scraps of wood, forming a large U in the center of the room. About the
table, inside and out, cushions and odds and ends lie about in baskets and
packs.
A stone spider is here, sitting on a deck of cards.
A deck of Kruth cards is here, just northeast of a feather.
A worn clay statuette of a humanoid is here, next to a feather.
A stiff white feather is here, a cord away from a piece of wood.
A couple of mantis gladiator figurines is here, standing on a handful of grass stalks.
A mulish gladiator figurine is laying near the cone and branch.
A halfling gladiator figurine is standing by the piece of wood.
A partially whittled piece of wood is laying here, about four cords northeast of the cone and branch.
A handful of grass stalks is a cord southwest from the cone and branch.
A stout yypr branch is standing next to a grey marble cone.
A grey marble cone is here, standing upright.
A small tube of rolled spice lies here on the ground.
A little book of rolling papers is left here, abandoned.
A large bag is lying here.
A crude bag made of patchwork leather pieces lies on the ground.
A dusty dusty backpack of leather lies here.
A backpack made from the hide of a jozhal is lying here.
A wooden meat rack made of agafari poles stands here.
130H/167V/129T/running/standing>:peers about the floor for a moment, and slowly takes a seat.
The figure in a set of hooded, shadow-grey robes peers about the floor for a moment, and slowly takes a seat.
130H/167V/129T/running/standing>sit
You sit down.
130H/167V/129T/running/sitting>chang ldesc is sitting here, amongst some figurines.
Your new ldesc is:
The figure in a set of hooded, shadow-grey robes is sitting here, amongst some figurines.
130H/167V/129T/running/sitting>i
You are carrying:
a crude leather bag
130H/167V/129T/running/sitting>l in pack
In a worn, carru-hide pack (used) :
an unlit rag-wrapped agafari torch
a mantis-shell breastplate
a couple of crumbling red tablets
an empty patched leather waterskin
a few scraps of cloth
an obsidian hide-scraper
a pile of blue leaves
a pale grey feather
130H/167V/129T/running/sitting>get mantis pack
You get a mantis-shell breastplate from a worn, carru-hide pack.
It is no problem.
dum de dum... doing nothing...
130H/167V/129T/running/sitting>l mantis
This breastplate was made to fit someone the size of a human. It is
made from the shell of a mantis, dark red and cracked.
130H/167V/129T/running/sitting>:peers over ~mantis, pursing his lips.
The figure in a set of hooded, shadow-grey robes peers over your mantis-shell breastplate, pursing his lips.
130H/167V/129T/running/sitting>ass -v shell
A mantis-shell breastplate can be worn on the torso.
A mantis-shell breastplate looks like it will fit you.
130H/167V/129T/running/sitting>stat
Your encumbrance is very heavy.
You are:
A member of the Silt Winds, jobs:
Relationship to the land is neutral.
You are currently speaking allundean with an unknown accent.
You are sitting down.
You are accepting all saves (nosave off).
You are not being merciful.
You aren't watching anything in particular.
130H/167V/129T/running/sitting>l me
At average height and build for one of his peers, this elven male bares a
tanned, gaunt body covered with many non-descript scars. Upon the very center
of his forehead is a single silver shape, a heavily-inked, full circle,
extending off to the top, bottom left, and bottom right are small lines which
curve away from the circle. The lines coming from the circle suddenly curve
back, growing thinner as they reach the edges of the silvery-inked ball.
Under his red, almond-shaped peepers are two dull-grey lines, flowing with
the shape of the eyes. His frame is wiry, muscles tightly bound beneath the
skin. Elongated and thin are his hands and fingers. Atop his head is a mane
of pure white hair.
The figure in a set of hooded, shadow-grey robes is in excellent condition.
<worn on head> a thick black chitin skullcap
<worn in hair> a stiff white feather
<worn in left ear> a hooked fang
<worn in right ear> a hooked fang
<worn around neck> an inix-shell collar
<throat> a tattoo of a green-toned mantis
<slung across back> a short, barbed zerka
<worn across back> a worn, carru-hide pack
<right shoulder> a blowing wind tattoo
<left shoulder> a blowing wind tattoo
<arms> a tattoo of interlocked rings of flame
<worn around wrist> a durrit-claw bracer
<worn around wrist> a durrit-claw bracer
<worn on hands> a pair of anakore-claw gloves
<worn around body> a set of hooded, shadow-grey robes
<legs> a tattoo of interlocked rings of flame
<worn on right ankle> a ball-tufted tail
130H/167V/129T/running/sitting>lower hood
You lower the hood of a set of hooded, shadow-grey robes.
130H/167V/129T/running/sitting>rem set
You stop using a set of hooded, shadow-grey robes.
130H/167V/129T/running/sitting>l me
At average height and build for one of his peers, this elven male bares a
tanned, gaunt body covered with many non-descript scars. Upon the very center
of his forehead is a single silver shape, a heavily-inked, full circle,
extending off to the top, bottom left, and bottom right are small lines which
curve away from the circle. The lines coming from the circle suddenly curve
back, growing thinner as they reach the edges of the silvery-inked ball.
Under his red, almond-shaped peepers are two dull-grey lines, flowing with
the shape of the eyes. His frame is wiry, muscles tightly bound beneath the
skin. Elongated and thin are his hands and fingers. Atop his head is a mane
of pure white hair.
The silver-marked, ivory-maned elf is in excellent condition.
<worn on head> a thick black chitin skullcap
<worn in hair> a stiff white feather
<worn in left ear> a hooked fang
<worn in right ear> a hooked fang
<worn around neck> an inix-shell collar
<throat> a tattoo of a green-toned mantis
<slung across back> a short, barbed zerka
<worn across back> a worn, carru-hide pack
<worn on torso> a duskhorn leather jacket
<right shoulder> a blowing wind tattoo
<left shoulder> a blowing wind tattoo
<arms> a tattoo of interlocked rings of flame
<worn around wrist> a durrit-claw bracer
<worn around wrist> a durrit-claw bracer
<worn on hands> a pair of anakore-claw gloves
<worn as belt> a leather knife belt with agafari buckles
<hung from belt> a simple, carru-leather knife sheath
<hung from belt> a sharp, green chitin chatkcha
<worn about waist> a sweat-stained soft leather loincloth
<legs> a tattoo of interlocked rings of flame
<worn on right ankle> a ball-tufted tail
130H/167V/129T/running/sitting>rem jacket
You stop using a duskhorn leather jacket.
130H/167V/129T/running/sitting>i
You are carrying:
a duskhorn leather jacket
a set of hooded, shadow-grey robes
a mantis-shell breastplate
a crude leather bag
130H/167V/129T/running/sitting>wear mantis
You wear the breastplate on your body.
130H/167V/129T/running/sitting>stat
Your encumbrance is very heavy.
You are:
A member of the Silt Winds, jobs:
Relationship to the land is neutral.
You are currently speaking allundean with an unknown accent.
You are sitting down.
You are accepting all saves (nosave off).
You are not being merciful.
You aren't watching anything in particular.
130H/167V/129T/running/sitting>put jacket rack (with a toss)
You put a duskhorn leather jacket inside the meat rack.
Too bad we didn't have command emotes for "put" in those days.
*puffs on a pipe, trying to look aged*
130H/167V/129T/running/sitting>i
You are carrying:
a set of hooded, shadow-grey robes
a crude leather bag
130H/167V/129T/running/sitting>wear set
You wear the robes about your body.
130H/167V/129T/running/sitting>l me
At average height and build for one of his peers, this elven male bares a
tanned, gaunt body covered with many non-descript scars. Upon the very center
of his forehead is a single silver shape, a heavily-inked, full circle,
extending off to the top, bottom left, and bottom right are small lines which
curve away from the circle. The lines coming from the circle suddenly curve
back, growing thinner as they reach the edges of the silvery-inked ball.
Under his red, almond-shaped peepers are two dull-grey lines, flowing with
the shape of the eyes. His frame is wiry, muscles tightly bound beneath the
skin. Elongated and thin are his hands and fingers. Atop his head is a mane
of pure white hair.
The silver-marked, ivory-maned elf is in excellent condition.
<worn on head> a thick black chitin skullcap
<worn in hair> a stiff white feather
<worn in left ear> a hooked fang
<worn in right ear> a hooked fang
<worn around neck> an inix-shell collar
<throat> a tattoo of a green-toned mantis
<slung across back> a short, barbed zerka
<worn across back> a worn, carru-hide pack
<right shoulder> a blowing wind tattoo
<left shoulder> a blowing wind tattoo
<arms> a tattoo of interlocked rings of flame
<worn around wrist> a durrit-claw bracer
<worn around wrist> a durrit-claw bracer
<worn on hands> a pair of anakore-claw gloves
<worn around body> a set of hooded, shadow-grey robes
<legs> a tattoo of interlocked rings of flame
<worn on right ankle> a ball-tufted tail
130H/167V/129T/running/sitting>i
You are carrying:
a crude leather bag
130H/167V/129T/running/sitting>l in bag
In a crude leather bag (carried) :
a pair of yellow-stained bone dice
a long, wickedly sharp fang
a scrap of parchment
130H/167V/129T/running/sitting>put bag rack
You put a crude leather bag inside the meat rack.
130H/167V/129T/running/sitting>stat
Your encumbrance is manageable.
You are:
A member of the Silt Winds, jobs:
Relationship to the land is neutral.
You are currently speaking allundean with an unknown accent.
You are sitting down.
You are accepting all saves (nosave off).
You are not being merciful.
You aren't watching anything in particular.
130H/167V/129T/running/sitting>clean me
You start cleaning.
130H/167V/129T/running/sitting>
You dust yourself off.
130H/167V/129T/running/sitting>l in pack
In a worn, carru-hide pack (used) :
an unlit rag-wrapped agafari torch
a couple of crumbling red tablets
an empty patched leather waterskin
a few scraps of cloth
an obsidian hide-scraper
a pile of blue leaves
a pale grey feather
130H/167V/129T/running/sitting>l in set
In a set of hooded, shadow-grey robes (used) :
a bone leatherworking knife
a durrit-claw skinning knife
a pile of allanaki coins
a small flint woodworking knife
130H/167V/129T/running/sitting>l me
At average height and build for one of his peers, this elven male bares a
tanned, gaunt body covered with many non-descript scars. Upon the very center
of his forehead is a single silver shape, a heavily-inked, full circle,
extending off to the top, bottom left, and bottom right are small lines which
curve away from the circle. The lines coming from the circle suddenly curve
back, growing thinner as they reach the edges of the silvery-inked ball.
Under his red, almond-shaped peepers are two dull-grey lines, flowing with
the shape of the eyes. His frame is wiry, muscles tightly bound beneath the
skin. Elongated and thin are his hands and fingers. Atop his head is a mane
of pure white hair.
The silver-marked, ivory-maned elf is in excellent condition.
<worn on head> a thick black chitin skullcap
<worn in hair> a stiff white feather
<worn in left ear> a hooked fang
<worn in right ear> a hooked fang
<worn around neck> an inix-shell collar
<throat> a tattoo of a green-toned mantis
<slung across back> a short, barbed zerka
<worn across back> a worn, carru-hide pack
<right shoulder> a blowing wind tattoo
<left shoulder> a blowing wind tattoo
<arms> a tattoo of interlocked rings of flame
<worn around wrist> a durrit-claw bracer
<worn around wrist> a durrit-claw bracer
<worn on hands> a pair of anakore-claw gloves
<worn around body> a set of hooded, shadow-grey robes
<legs> a tattoo of interlocked rings of flame
<worn on right ankle> a ball-tufted tail
130H/167V/129T/running/sitting>l
Living Room [WU]
Solid wooden stairs descend into this wide-open room used for eating and
lounging, a living room. A long, wooden table has been fashioned from old
scraps of wood, forming a large U in the center of the room. About the
table, inside and out, cushions and odds and ends lie about in baskets and
packs.
A stone spider is here, sitting on a deck of cards.
A deck of Kruth cards is here, just northeast of a feather.
A worn clay statuette of a humanoid is here, next to a feather.
A stiff white feather is here, a cord away from a piece of wood.
A couple of mantis gladiator figurines is here, standing on a handful of grass stalks.
A mulish gladiator figurine is laying near the cone and branch.
A halfling gladiator figurine is standing by the piece of wood.
A partially whittled piece of wood is laying here, about four cords northeast of the cone and branch.
A handful of grass stalks is a cord southwest from the cone and branch.
A stout yypr branch is standing next to a grey marble cone.
A grey marble cone is here, standing upright.
A small tube of rolled spice lies here on the ground.
A little book of rolling papers is left here, abandoned.
A large bag is lying here.
A crude bag made of patchwork leather pieces lies on the ground.
A dusty dusty backpack of leather lies here.
A backpack made from the hide of a jozhal is lying here.
A wooden meat rack made of agafari poles stands here.
130H/167V/129T/running/sitting>clean me
You start cleaning.
130H/167V/129T/running/sitting>
You dust yourself off.
130H/167V/129T/running/sitting>l me
At average height and build for one of his peers, this elven male bares a
tanned, gaunt body covered with many non-descript scars. Upon the very center
of his forehead is a single silver shape, a heavily-inked, full circle,
extending off to the top, bottom left, and bottom right are small lines which
curve away from the circle. The lines coming from the circle suddenly curve
back, growing thinner as they reach the edges of the silvery-inked ball.
Under his red, almond-shaped peepers are two dull-grey lines, flowing with
the shape of the eyes. His frame is wiry, muscles tightly bound beneath the
skin. Elongated and thin are his hands and fingers. Atop his head is a mane
of pure white hair.
The silver-marked, ivory-maned elf is in excellent condition.
<worn on head> a thick black chitin skullcap
<worn in hair> a stiff white feather
<worn in left ear> a hooked fang
<worn in right ear> a hooked fang
<worn around neck> an inix-shell collar
<throat> a tattoo of a green-toned mantis
<slung across back> a short, barbed zerka
<worn across back> a worn, carru-hide pack
<right shoulder> a blowing wind tattoo
<left shoulder> a blowing wind tattoo
<arms> a tattoo of interlocked rings of flame
<worn around wrist> a durrit-claw bracer
<worn around wrist> a durrit-claw bracer
<worn on hands> a pair of anakore-claw gloves
<worn around body> a set of hooded, shadow-grey robes
<legs> a tattoo of interlocked rings of flame
<worn on right ankle> a ball-tufted tail
130H/167V/129T/running/sitting>time
It is late at night on Detal, the 198th day of the Low Sun,
In the Year of Dragon's Agitation, year 28 of the 21st Age.
130H/167V/129T/running/sitting>:scratches at ~collar.
The silver-marked, ivory-maned elf scratches at your inix-shell collar.
130H/167V/129T/running/sitting>l
Living Room [WU]
Solid wooden stairs descend into this wide-open room used for eating and
lounging, a living room. A long, wooden table has been fashioned from old
scraps of wood, forming a large U in the center of the room. About the
table, inside and out, cushions and odds and ends lie about in baskets and
packs.
A stone spider is here, sitting on a deck of cards.
A deck of Kruth cards is here, just northeast of a feather.
A worn clay statuette of a humanoid is here, next to a feather.
A stiff white feather is here, a cord away from a piece of wood.
A couple of mantis gladiator figurines is here, standing on a handful of grass stalks.
A mulish gladiator figurine is laying near the cone and branch.
A halfling gladiator figurine is standing by the piece of wood.
A partially whittled piece of wood is laying here, about four cords northeast of the cone and branch.
A handful of grass stalks is a cord southwest from the cone and branch.
A stout yypr branch is standing next to a grey marble cone.
A grey marble cone is here, standing upright.
A small tube of rolled spice lies here on the ground.
A little book of rolling papers is left here, abandoned.
A large bag is lying here.
A crude bag made of patchwork leather pieces lies on the ground.
A dusty dusty backpack of leather lies here.
A backpack made from the hide of a jozhal is lying here.
A wooden meat rack made of agafari poles stands here.
130H/167V/129T/running/sitting>say (eyeing ~spider, sighing)Now what..
Eyeing a stone spider, sighing, you say, in allundean:
"Now what.."
130H/167V/129T/running/sitting>:pokes at ~spider with a finger.
The silver-marked, ivory-maned elf pokes at a stone spider with a finger.
130H/167V/129T/running/sitting>score
You are Sai, a member of the Silt Winds.
Keywords: silver-marked ivory-maned elf
Sdesc: the silver-marked, ivory-maned elf
Objective: Kill a Mantis single-handedly, take its head as a trophy, then brag.
I don't think Sai ever got around to that, and I don't exactly recall how he perished either.
Long Description:
The silver-marked, ivory-maned elf is sitting here, amongst some figurines.
You are 36 years, 0 months, and 144 days old,
which by your race and appearance is mature.
You are 83 inches tall, and weigh 8 ten-stone.
Your strength is below average, your agility is extremely good,
your wisdom is above average, and your endurance is exceptional.
You are neither hungry nor thirsty.
Your health is 130(130), you have 167(185) stamina, and 129(129) stun.
check out my leet stats, mom.
You have been playing for 5 days and 12 hours.
You are sitting.
You are currently speaking allundean with an unknown accent.
130H/167V/129T/running/sitting>:peers down at ~clay.
The silver-marked, ivory-maned elf peers down at a worn clay statuette of a humanoid.
130H/167V/129T/running/sitting>
130H/167V/129T/running/sitting>l me
At average height and build for one of his peers, this elven male bares a
tanned, gaunt body covered with many non-descript scars. Upon the very center
of his forehead is a single silver shape, a heavily-inked, full circle,
extending off to the top, bottom left, and bottom right are small lines which
curve away from the circle. The lines coming from the circle suddenly curve
back, growing thinner as they reach the edges of the silvery-inked ball.
Under his red, almond-shaped peepers are two dull-grey lines, flowing with
the shape of the eyes. His frame is wiry, muscles tightly bound beneath the
skin. Elongated and thin are his hands and fingers. Atop his head is a mane
of pure white hair.
The silver-marked, ivory-maned elf is in excellent condition.
<worn on head> a thick black chitin skullcap
<worn in hair> a stiff white feather
<worn in left ear> a hooked fang
<worn in right ear> a hooked fang
<worn around neck> an inix-shell collar
<throat> a tattoo of a green-toned mantis
<slung across back> a short, barbed zerka
<worn across back> a worn, carru-hide pack
<right shoulder> a blowing wind tattoo
<left shoulder> a blowing wind tattoo
<arms> a tattoo of interlocked rings of flame
<worn around wrist> a durrit-claw bracer
<worn around wrist> a durrit-claw bracer
<worn on hands> a pair of anakore-claw gloves
<worn around body> a set of hooded, shadow-grey robes
<legs> a tattoo of interlocked rings of flame
<worn on right ankle> a ball-tufted tail
130H/167V/129T/running/sitting>:scratches at the back of his head.
The silver-marked, ivory-maned elf scratches at the back of his head.
130H/167V/129T/running/sitting>l
Living Room [WU]
Solid wooden stairs descend into this wide-open room used for eating and
lounging, a living room. A long, wooden table has been fashioned from old
scraps of wood, forming a large U in the center of the room. About the
table, inside and out, cushions and odds and ends lie about in baskets and
packs.
A stone spider is here, sitting on a deck of cards.
A deck of Kruth cards is here, just northeast of a feather.
A worn clay statuette of a humanoid is here, next to a feather.
A stiff white feather is here, a cord away from a piece of wood.
A couple of mantis gladiator figurines is here, standing on a handful of grass stalks.
A mulish gladiator figurine is laying near the cone and branch.
A halfling gladiator figurine is standing by the piece of wood.
A partially whittled piece of wood is laying here, about four cords northeast of the cone and branch.
A handful of grass stalks is a cord southwest from the cone and branch.
A stout yypr branch is standing next to a grey marble cone.
A grey marble cone is here, standing upright.
A small tube of rolled spice lies here on the ground.
A little book of rolling papers is left here, abandoned.
A large bag is lying here.
A crude bag made of patchwork leather pieces lies on the ground.
A dusty dusty backpack of leather lies here.
A backpack made from the hide of a jozhal is lying here.
A wooden meat rack made of agafari poles stands here.
130H/167V/129T/running/sitting>:yawns and slowly lays down on the floor.
The silver-marked, ivory-maned elf yawns and slowly lays down on the floor.
130H/167V/129T/running/sitting>rest
You rest your tired bones.
l me
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>At average height and build for one of his peers, this elven male bares a
tanned, gaunt body covered with many non-descript scars. Upon the very center
of his forehead is a single silver shape, a heavily-inked, full circle,
extending off to the top, bottom left, and bottom right are small lines which
curve away from the circle. The lines coming from the circle suddenly curve
back, growing thinner as they reach the edges of the silvery-inked ball.
Under his red, almond-shaped peepers are two dull-grey lines, flowing with
the shape of the eyes. His frame is wiry, muscles tightly bound beneath the
skin. Elongated and thin are his hands and fingers. Atop his head is a mane
of pure white hair.
The silver-marked, ivory-maned elf is in excellent condition.
<worn on head> a thick black chitin skullcap
<worn in hair> a stiff white feather
<worn in left ear> a hooked fang
<worn in right ear> a hooked fang
<worn around neck> an inix-shell collar
<throat> a tattoo of a green-toned mantis
<slung across back> a short, barbed zerka
<worn across back> a worn, carru-hide pack
<right shoulder> a blowing wind tattoo
<left shoulder> a blowing wind tattoo
<arms> a tattoo of interlocked rings of flame
<worn around wrist> a durrit-claw bracer
<worn around wrist> a durrit-claw bracer
<worn on hands> a pair of anakore-claw gloves
<worn around body> a set of hooded, shadow-grey robes
<legs> a tattoo of interlocked rings of flame
<worn on right ankle> a ball-tufted tail
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>raise hood
You raise the hood of a set of hooded, shadow-grey robes.
130H/167V/129T/running/resting>time
It is before dawn on Ocandra, the 199th day of the Low Sun,
In the Year of Dragon's Agitation, year 28 of the 21st Age.
And thus, Sai drifts off to sleep after having cleaned up his figurines and toys.
Yes, I know I had an obsessive compulsive disorder with typing "l me" and "clean me"
I still do, to some extent, but I don't do it as much now-a-days.
Thanks for reading this, and I hope you had a good laugh.
Sai, our 'hero' of sorts, has just come into the Silt Wind hideout from a hard day's work of Desert-Elfing and has decided to chill out.
Note: He's not really a Drovian, he just thought the robes were cool.
The figure in a set of hooded, shadow-grey robes spots a crude leather bag on the...
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