Original Submissions
-
Girl on bed by Bast
Added on Jun 23, 2007Random pic
Sorrevan by Bast
Added on Jun 23, 2007Npc from a table top game
Vallalari by Bast
Added on Jun 23, 2007Someone talked me into putting some of my roughs up...My scanner sucks so my finished don't come out great over the comp....Enjoy however
A Kadian by Briar
Added on Jun 11, 2007A young woman born of the Greater Merchant House Kadius.
Honky Tonk Women of Zalanthas by Bebop
Added on May 31, 2007Honky Tonk women refers to an episode of Cowboy Bebop in which the main female protagonist is down on her luck as usual. Not to mention the famous Rolling Stones song. This story is the same - about clever women (only of Zalanthas) and how they deal with heartache and betrayl.
Her back to the wall she tilted a glance briefly over her shoulder then back around the corner again, she had to be quick. From her perch at the corner of the corridor she could see, could see him laugh as she stumbled in his arms, drunk. For a moment she tilted her head aside staring off as a flash of numbing anger lulled through her mind. She smeared her lips together blinked and her mind was clear again, the woman's drunkenness would give her a clear advantage if combat came into play. They were moving into the room now and the door was closing shut unnoticed behind them. Perfect. Crouching and moving swiftly with measured steps she kneeled slipping her fingertips gently but precisely between the door and the wall. She held it open only a crack peering in past the opening to watch the couple already fumbling with their clothes head towards the bedroom. Her eyes narrowed, not to see but in another flare of rage that she forced to calm herself amid the silence, unwilling to betray her position. A single dim wall lantern illuminated the sand crusted hallway and the ancient, cracked granite tiles. Only the faintest glow of light lapped at the hem of her cloak dyed deeply to remain the color of Drov.
Rising delicately she slid the door open to give her just enough berth to roll in on a shoulder and then gently coax the door closed behind her in silence. For only a moment she was standing fully upright and her eyes darted keenly over the familiar sparse room of mud dried walls. She sneered as a delighted shriek and giggle wafted from the eastward room and her stomach roiled. "Bastard," she thought not daring to speak as her cheeks flushed red. Turning she crept one foot over the other towards the archway to the other room, closing her eyes to listen so as to estimate their position. Their rough breaths were muffled, their backs were to her, the girl was probably positioned on the edge of the bed. She reached for a thin, leather ribbon that secured the reed tube to her shoulder. With nimble fingertips she tugged a string unlacing it effortlessly and slid it into her hand, reaching then into her deep pockets to produce a single dart fletched with a pitch black feather. Briefly, her hand trembled. She never trembled, but this mark was personal. She inserted the arrow into the reed, daring only slowly to peer over the archway, she could easily see his bare back, shoulders flexing with each thrust, the woman's legs wrapped around him. A frown tightened her brow but then she forced it to her relax, guiding her body into the fluidity required to successfully end another's life undetected. With a puff of breath and the slightest hollow sound the dart, gleaming with a sheen of poison, soared through the air piercing the man in the back of the neck.
With a final single thrust, the man's heavily muscled shoulders relaxed, elbows bending as he fell collapsing over the bed, and ultimately pinning the woman between himself and the straw cushioning. Anya grinned sadistically, her heart racing as she slowly dared to ascend from the shadows. The woman underneath him frowned, seemingly confused as she struggled to free herself from the massive body. "Glenn?" She laughed writhing in vain to sit up, "Glenn! Are you oka..." Her voice trailed off, eyes widening as fingers laced over the dart still pinned in the man's neck before her eyes found Anya standing beyond him. Her body stilled, her rosy face slumped and paled, "Anya...I..."
"You what, Dai?" Anya's heart thumped heavily in her chest, a sneer of disgust on her lips as her eyes traced over the man still breathing in a deep content sleep, blanketing the woman's swarthy bare body. Dai's grey eyes dropped away, seemingly now unaware of the body draped over her own. "What are you doing with him!" Anya screamed jealousy and anguish finally erupting from her lips.
"I don't know!" cried the woman, "I've been drinking... I'm sorry!"
"You're sorry!" Anya, smeared a hand over her face, the stoic visage of an assassin gone her voice incredulous, "You're... sorry! And what about all of the other times! You think I didn’t know! What about me!" Anya shook her head, drawing a curved bone knife from the confines of her belt. Watching Dai, with disdain, her voice tucked tight in sarcasm, "You're sorry." Dia gasped, tears in her eyes as she struggled to grab at her cloak marked with the vivid crimson insignia of a slithering Borsail Wyvern. "You wanted information from me, from The Guild."
"No," Dia started shaking her head as Anya pressed the knife towards her throat pinning her once more.Anya narrowed her eyes and swallowed hard, an attempt to regain the sound place she had found before that had always allowed her to kill without remorse, "All that information you gave Lord Borsail. I didn't think you wanted the promotion that badly." Anya peered down at Dai, her sandy blond hair spilling over her diminutive bosom, "Just tell me one thing Dai, did you ever mean it when you said were mates." Her words were followed by another pained gulp.
Dai frowned, her fear turning to anger and foreboding in her voice, "I have Lord Borsail in my head right now Anya!"
Anya's blade pressed firmly against the supple skin of Dai's neck, drawing a tiny sliver of blood, "Answer the fucking question you whore."
"I'm an aide of Borsail rinth rat... they know all about you they..." Anya tilted her head to the side as though daring another ill spoken word as she reached with her free hand to firmly grab a tuft of Dai's mane. The rage inside her was growing as she drew in a long ragged breath. Her heart was sinking, drowning out any thoughts of sensibility, any desire for mercy. Dai paused, her gaze meeting Anya's squarely, her voice cool and snide, "You want to know the truth? I don't even like girls."
"Wrong answer," Anya whispered, forcefully sliding her blade with a sickening wet stroke over the woman's throat.Her back to the wall she tilted a glance briefly over her shoulder then back around the corner again, she had to be quick. From her perch at the corner of the corridor she could see, could see him laugh as she stumbled in his arms, drunk. For a moment she tilted her head aside staring off as a...
Continue Reading...Byn Trooper by Grey Area
Added on May 16, 2007The T'zai Byn! For 'sid and glory, but mostly for the 'sid.
Byn Days by Rhyden
Added on May 16, 2007Sergeant Dryn and his Bynners head up to Tuluk for a contract. After killing three gortoks along the road, the T’zai Byn meets up with a few Kuraci and tension grows between the two units.
North Road [NEW]
The stark white of this wide stone road lies across these scrub
forests like the spine of some gargantuan carcass. Blowing, gritty dusts
cover the road in some places, and pech grasses have, here and there, taken
root in and among the flagstones. This pale backbone of a road lies across
these lands in a long and twisting fashion, following the southern border of
the Grey Forest.
Far to the north lies the dim and shadowy blotch on the horizon which
marks the Grey Forest, while to the south stretches the vast sweep of the
scrub plains. A tangle of thorny bush to the south borders the road.
The lean, scar-faced woman has arrived from the west, riding an erdlu.
The pockmarked, balding man has arrived from the west, riding a yellow kank.
The thrice-braided, green-eyed man has arrived from the west, riding a yellow kank.
The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man has arrived from the west, riding a yellow kank.
The reddish-eyed, coppery mul has arrived from the west, riding a yellow kank.To the east is North Road.
[Very far]
Nothing.
[Far]
A kank stands here, its yellow shell mottled with dust.
The very short figure in a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak is standing here.
The short figure in a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak is standing here.
A yellow kank stands here, carrying the very short figure in a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak on his back.
A grey kank stands here, vigorously waving its pinchers.
[Near]
Nothing.To the north is Scrub Plains.
[Very far]
Nothing.
[Far]
Nothing.
[Near]
Nothing.The lean, scar-faced woman intently scans the area.
Gruffly, the hawk-nosed, raven-haired man says, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Kuraci. "Peering down the road, you say, in sirihish:
"Hmm. . . "North Road [NEW]
The stark white of this wide stone road lies across these scrub
forests like the spine of some gargantuan carcass. Blowing, gritty dusts
cover the road in some places, and pech grasses have, here and there, taken
root in and among the flagstones. This pale backbone of a road lies across
these lands in a long and twisting fashion, following the southern border of
the Grey Forest.
Far to the north lies the dim and shadowy blotch on the horizon which
marks the Grey Forest, while to the south stretches the vast sweep of the
scrub plains. A tangle of thorny bush to the south borders the road.
The lean, scar-faced woman has arrived from the west, riding an erdlu.
The pockmarked, balding man has arrived from the west, riding a yellow kank.
The reddish-eyed, coppery mul has arrived from the west, riding a yellow kank.The thrice-braided, green-eyed man has arrived from the west, riding a yellow kank.
The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man has arrived from the west, riding a yellow kank.You shout in sirihish:
"Byn comin'!"East of here is North Road.
[Very far]
Nothing.
[Far]
Nothing.
[Near]
A yellow kank stands here, carrying the very short figure in a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak on his back.
The short figure in a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak is standing here.
A yellow kank stands here, carrying the very short figure in a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak on his back.
A grey kank stands here, vigorously waving its pinchers.North Road [NEW]
The stark white of this wide stone road lies across these scrub
forests like the spine of some gargantuan carcass. Blowing, gritty dusts
cover the road in some places, and pech grasses have, here and there, taken
root in and among the flagstones. This pale backbone of a road lies across
these lands in a long and twisting fashion, following the southern border of
the Grey Forest.
Far to the north lies the dim and shadowy blotch on the horizon which
marks the Grey Forest, while to the south stretches the vast sweep of the
scrub plains. A tangle of thorny bush to the south borders the road.
A long-handled axe, used for chopping lumber, lies here.
A sweat-stained heap of soft carru leather has been left in a pile here.
A dusty helm made of durrit hide lays here.
A bloodied duskhorn leather tunic lies here.
A tembo hide belt lies coiled on the ground.
An used circular shield of round, knobby chitin has been left here.
A bloodied helm made from a large skull lies here, horns sprouting from the top.
A set of leg guards made from a spiky exoskeleton lies here.
A pair of spike-toed leather boots have been left here
A pair of duskhorn gauntlets covered in small spikes, lies on the ground.
A pair of armguards, lined with rows of gith teeth, lies here.
A dusty battle-axe of thick, skull-carved bone lays here on its side.
A very dim long agafari stick wrapped in oiled rags has been left here.
A couple of black epaulettes with one grey shield are here.
A dusty massive battle axe of carved thuja and heavy bone sits here, unused.
A belt formed from thick brown leather lies here.
A dusty backpack of worn carru hide has been set down here.
A red and white belt lies here
A couple of gurth shell collars are here.
A dusty rough canvas backpack lies here.
An used bloodied armored jacket fashioned from stiff leather and strips of chitin lies here.
A new bloodied armored jacket fashioned from stiff leather and strips of chitin lies here.
A dusty gurth shell helmet lies here.
A pair of leather leggings plated with gurth shell lies here.
A dusty set of flared leather boots sits here without a pair of feet.
A dusty pair of leather gloves backed with gurth shell lies here.
A pair of leather sleeves plated with gurth shell lies here.
A dusty small dagger with a thin blade and a hooked hilt sits here.
A tooled leather swordbelt lies coiled here.
A chunky wristguard, made of scrab shell, lies here.
A gurth shell bracer lies here.
A dusty bone rapier with a rib-like hilt lies here.
An orange piece of cloth lies here, cut into a small epaulette.
A dusty orange piece of cloth lies here, cut into a small epaulette.
An ashen large wooden torch lies here.
A yellow kank stands here, carrying the very short figure in a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak on his back.
The short figure in a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak is standing here.
A yellow kank stands here, carrying the very short figure in a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak on his back.
A grey kank stands here, vigorously waving its pinchers.
The lean, scar-faced woman has arrived from the west, riding an erdlu.
The pockmarked, balding man has arrived from the west, riding a yellow kank.
The reddish-eyed, coppery mul has arrived from the west, riding a yellow kank.The very short figure in a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak swings her legs to the side and dismounts.
The thrice-braided, green-eyed man has arrived from the west, riding a yellow kank.
The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man has arrived from the west, riding a yellow kank.
The short figure in a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak looks at the reddish-eyed, coppery mul as she pulls down her hood.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf lowers the hood of a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak.
This small half-elven woman's lean, tautly muscled body is ravaged by the
scars of battle, wind and sand, her skin a weathered cunyati hue. In
lighter contrast, her hair is a sandy brown, the longest strands wisping
just past her chin. She has slanted, narrow eyes, their irises shaded a
murky green about vertically slitted pupils, and her ears are mismatched;
the left is sharply pointed, but the right is smaller, almost round. A
faded scar tugs from the left corner of her mouth and across her cheek,
giving her thin lips a perpetual smirk. Another noticeable scar cuts a pale
line above her right eyebrow, deep and faintly curved, as if from a blade.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf is in excellent condition.The slight, desert-hued half-elf is using:
<worn on head> a wide-rimmed brown hat
<worn on face> a pair of polished bone sunslits
<worn in left ear> a red feather earring
<worn in right ear>a hooked fang
<worn around neck> a spiked duskhorn collar
<worn about throat>an agate and raptor-bone necklac
<slung across back>a tortoiseshell-capped, thornwood longbow
<worn across back> a new round black shield
<worn on right shoulder> a shoulder patch with a dun colored eclipsed moon
<worn on left shoulder>a coil of numut-woven rope
<worn on arms> a pair of desert-camouflaged, sandcloth sleeves
<worn around wrist>a small black leather armsheath
<worn around wrist>a bone-spiked, black-leather bracer
<worn on hands>a bloodied pair of desert-camouflaged, sandcloth gloves
<primary hand> a double-headed burr flail
<secondary hand> a well-balanced, curved bone halfblade
<worn around body> a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak
<worn on legs> a pair of desert-camouflaged, sandcloth leggings
<worn on right ankle>a ragged hempcloth pouch
<worn on feet> a pair of knee-high grey leather bootsThe very short figure in a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak remains on his kank, eyeingthe group of brown aba'd riders.
The black-striped dusky male dwarf lowers the hood of a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak.
The lean, scar-faced woman says, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Shit. . Look at this gear. . What the fuck. . "Sparing a glance up, then back to the road, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Thanks for ridin' over any tracks, Byn. "Riding up alongside her with a nod, you say to the slight, desert-hued half-elf, in sirihish:
"Sergeant Sha. . . "Glaring around slowly, you ask the slight, desert-hued half-elf, in sirihish:
"What the fuck happened here?"The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man looks down at the slight, desert-hued half-elf with a tilt of his head.
The dusky, raven-haired man glances at the clothing and gear on the ground, brows furrowing.
In a worn, carru-hide pack (here) :
a dusty braxat hide collar
a dusty elven maar shortbow
a coil of narrow cactus
a dusty squat bulbous gourd
a pile of coins
a grey fighting claw
a scaly maroon hide
a long strip of tough, grey chitin
a couple of bright red fruits
an unlit large wooden torch
a slender wooden spear
an unlit simple, leather-wrapped bone torch
an empty sunstar-flower
a bone spiked sunstar
a dusty obsidian-tipped spear
a few tough slabs of dark red meat
some hunks of red-streaked meat
a couple of strips of dark-red meat
a side of whitish meat
a small portion of a side of whitish meatThe mohawked, scar-faced girl lowers the hood of a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak.
In a rough canvas backpack (here) :
a dusty pair of long, carved lip-tusks
a couple of durrit-claw bracers
a dusty hooded, bamuk-hide cloak
a dusty set of anakore-clawed climbing gloves
a new bloodied pair of carru leather sleeves
a dusty black mandible-bladed scimitar
a dusty black mandible-headed spear
a long-handled, flint lumber axe
a few long agafari branches
a thick branch of baobabA yellow kank leisurely waves its antennae about.
The sun reaches its highest point in the sky.
The black-striped dusky male dwarf looks up at the reddish-eyed, coppery mul with a glance over the group.
Mildly, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Your guess is as good as mine. . though we just killed a five-pack of 'tok. "The thrice-braided, green-eyed man remains silent as he angles a yellow kank up to the scene.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf slings two steel-grey cloaks over her shoulder, then re-grips her double-headed burr flail.
Nodding his head a few times with a grunt, you say to the slight, desert-hued half-elf, in sirihish:
"We killed six back along the road. . . "A yellow kank rubs its mandibles together.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf asks you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Bad time to be out here, 'en. Contracting up northside?"A very dim rag-wrapped agafari torch goes out.
Grunting, the hawk-nosed, raven-haired man says, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Aye, lucky the Byn's 'ere t'keep the roads nice 'nd safe fer Kuraci. "The slight, desert-hued half-elf looks up at the hawk-nosed, raven-haired man with narrowed eyes.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf says to the hawk-nosed, raven-haired man, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Spare me, asshole. "The thrice-braided, green-eyed man snickers.
Nodding his head as he points your heavy, broad-bladed battle scimitar forwards, you say to the slight, desert-hued
half-elf, in sirihish:
"We found some breed 'gicker. . . tried puttin' a spell on us. . . fled off somewhere. "The athletic, white-haired man has arrived from the east, riding a saffron-colored kank.
Shaking her head, the lean, scar-faced woman asks the slight, desert-hued half-elf, in southern-accented sirihish:
"What’s with the gear, up for grabs?"The black-striped dusky male dwarf looks up at the athletic, white-haired man with a quick look.
To the west is North Road.
[Very far]
Nothing.
[Far]
Nothing.
[Near]
Nothing.
The black-striped dusky male dwarf says to the athletic, white-haired man, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Salarri. "To the east is North Road.
[Very far]
Nothing.
[Far]
Nothing.
[Near]
Nothing.Resting her heavy axe over one small shoulder, the mohawked, scar-faced girl says, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Folk all over the road today. "Frowning, as he peers about the ground, the athletic, white-haired man asks, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Where is the cloak?"Riding up beside you and speaking quietly, the hawk-nosed, raven-haired man whispers to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"That's the one there that seemed t'think people only join Kurac 'cause they love it. "You nod to him.
North of here are Scrub Plains.
[Very far]
Nothing.
[Far]
Nothing.
[Near]
Nothing.Turning slowly to face you, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"I see you have a few discipline problems, Sergeant. "The athletic, white-haired man swings his legs to the side and dismounts.
Glaring around slowly, you ask the slight, desert-hued half-elf, in sirihish:
"Where?"The athletic, white-haired man picks up a black epaulette with one grey shield.
The athletic, white-haired man picks up a black epaulette with one grey shield.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The athletic, white-haired man picks up an orange cloth epaulette.
The athletic, white-haired man picks up a dusty orange cloth epaulette.
The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man sends you a telepathic message:
"Let's just kill her. "
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.You think:
“The Lieutenant’d rip me a second asshole, but I bet that breed’d look better dead.”The lean, scar-faced woman glances down over the mass amount of weapons and arms strewn over the road.
The mohawked, scar-faced girl looks up at the athletic, white-haired man with a glance.
Smirking and pointing down to the gear lain across the ground, you say, in sirihish:
“Byn, take what yeh want. ”The black-striped dusky male dwarf watches the athletic, white-haired man.
The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man swings his legs to the side and dismounts.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf looks at the athletic, white-haired man with narrow eyes.
The black-striped dusky male dwarf cuts his glare to you.
Flopping off his kank, the hawk-nosed, raven-haired man exclaims, in southern-accented sirihish:
"All righ' then!"The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man picks up an used gurth-shell round shield.
The lean, scar-faced woman swings her legs to the side and dismounts.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf says to the athletic, white-haired man, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Ah. "The pockmarked, balding man swings his legs to the side and dismounts.
The athletic, white-haired man jumps up onto a saffron-colored kank's back.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf says to the athletic, white-haired man, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Here. "Eyeing the ground, the hawk-nosed, raven-haired man says, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Some nice shit 'ere. "North Road [NEW]
The stark white of this wide stone road lies across these scrub
forests like the spine of some gargantuan carcass. Blowing, gritty dusts
cover the road in some places, and pech grasses have, here and there, taken
root in and among the flagstones. This pale backbone of a road lies across
these lands in a long and twisting fashion, following the southern border of
the Grey Forest.
Far to the north lies the dim and shadowy blotch on the horizon which
marks the Grey Forest, while to the south stretches the vast sweep of the
scrub plains. A tangle of thorny bush to the south borders the road.
A long-handled axe, used for chopping lumber, lies here.
A sweat-stained heap of soft carru leather has been left in a pile here.
A dusty helm made of durrit hide lays here.
A bloodied duskhorn leather tunic lies here.
A tembo hide belt lies coiled on the ground.
A bloodied helm made from a large skull lies here, horns sprouting from the top.
A set of leg guards made from a spiky exoskeleton lies here.
A pair of spike-toed leather boots have been left here
A pair of duskhorn gauntlets covered in small spikes, lies on the ground.
A pair of armguards, lined with rows of gith teeth, lies here.
A dusty battle-axe of thick, skull-carved bone lays here on its side.
An ashen long agafari stick wrapped in oiled rags has been left here.
A dusty massive battle axe of carved thuja and heavy bone sits here, unused.
A belt formed from thick brown leather lies here.
A dusty backpack of worn carru hide has been set down here.
A red and white belt lies here
A couple of gurth shell collars are here.
A dusty rough canvas backpack lies here.
An used bloodied armored jacket fashioned from stiff leather and strips of chitin lies here.
A new bloodied armored jacket fashioned from stiff leather and strips of chitin lies here.
A dusty gurth shell helmet lies here.
A pair of leather leggings plated with gurth shell lies here.
A dusty set of flared leather boots sits here without a pair of feet.
A dusty pair of leather gloves backed with gurth shell lies here.
A pair of leather sleeves plated with gurth shell lies here.
A dusty small dagger with a thin blade and a hooked hilt sits here.
A tooled leather swordbelt lies coiled here.
A chunky wristguard, made of scrab shell, lies here.
A gurth shell bracer lies here.
A dusty bone rapier with a rib-like hilt lies here.
An ashen large wooden torch lies here.
A saffron-colored kank stands here, carrying the athletic, white-haired man on his back.
A kank stands here, its yellow shell mottled with dust.
The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man is standing here, appearing very tired.
A yellow kank stands here, carrying the thrice-braided, green-eyed man on his back.
A yellow kank stands here, carrying the reddish-eyed, coppery mul on his back.
A kank stands here, its yellow shell mottled with dust.
The pockmarked, balding man is standing here.
A large and grey-scaled flightless bird stands here.
The lean, scar-faced woman is standing here.
A yellow kank stands here, carrying the black-striped dusky male dwarf on his back.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf is standing here.
A large yellow kank stands here, its chitinous shell covered in dust.
The mohawked, scar-faced girl is standing here.
A grey kank stands here, vigorously waving its pinchers.The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man picks up a gurth shell collar.
The pockmarked, balding man picks up an used bloodied chitin and leather jacket.
The lean, scar-faced woman picks up a dusty bone parrying dagger.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf slings two cloaks down from her shoulder.
The pockmarked, balding man picks up a pair of gurth shell and leather sleeves.
The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man picks up a gurth shell collar.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf gives a dusty black leather and steel-grey sandcloth greatcloak to the athletic,
white-haired man.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf gives a dusty black leather and steel-grey sandcloth greatcloak to the athletic,
white-haired man.
The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man puts a gurth shell collar inside a plain bag of cloth.
The dusky, raven-haired man nods as his gaze turns across the ground slowly.
The lean, scar-faced woman picks up a dusty thick, durrit-hide helm.
The black-striped dusky male dwarf says, in southern-accented sirihish:
"What the feck, taht's salarr gear. "The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man puts a gurth shell collar inside a plain bag of cloth.
The short female wearing a dusty desert-camouflaged sandcloth facewrap has arrived from the east, riding a saffron-colored
kank.
The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man picks up a dusty gurth shell helmet.
The rangy, silver-eyed woman stops using a dusty desert-camouflaged sandcloth facewrap.
The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man puts a dusty gurth shell helmet inside a plain bag of cloth.
You say to the black-striped dusky male dwarf, in sirihish:
"Not anymore."The woman before you has a lusterous, bright silver gaze that almost
seems to shine. Her pupils and the color that surrounds her iris are a
slighty darker hue, and thick black lashes line her eyes giving her a smoky
gaze. Her hair is the pitch black of midnight, that like her eyes seems to
have some luster to it. It is cut sleekly in a diagonal line, but despite
the eveness of the cut, her hair remains a bit untamed and disheveled. Her
frame is a bit lanky but toned by sinewy muscle. Various scars mark her
sun-bronzed complexion, some old markings faint and healed, while other
scrapes and wounds freshly scabbed continue to heal. Her features are
generally smooth and angular despite her rugged appearance.
The rangy, silver-eyed woman is in excellent condition.The rangy, silver-eyed woman is using:
<worn on head> a dusty desert-camouflaged, sandcloth-covered cap
<worn in hair> a dusty set of feather-tipped leather cords
<worn in left ear> a dusty striped bone loop
<worn in right ear>a dusty blue beaded bone loop
<worn around neck> a dusty desert-camouflaged, sandcloth-covered collar
<worn about throat>a dusty star-shaped obsidian pendant
<worn across back> a dusty bone-studded backpack
<worn on arms> a pair of leather-reinforced sandcloth sleeves
<worn around wrist>a durrit-claw bracer
<worn around wrist>a durrit-claw bracer
<worn on hands>a dusty pair of spiked duskhorn gauntlets
<primary hand> a dusty wicked-edged, bone scimitar
<secondary hand> a dusty curved, mantis-carved obsidian scimitar
<worn on forearms> a dusty set of feather-tipped leather cords
<worn around body> a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak
<worn on legs> a leather-reinforced sandcloth skirt
<worn on right ankle>a dusty ball-tufted tail
<worn on left ankle> a dusty ball-tufted tail
<worn on feet> a dusty pair of sturdy sandcloth and leather bootsThe pockmarked, balding man picks up a tan, yellow-striped tembo-hide belt.
The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man picks up a pair of gurth shell and leather leggings.
Simply, the athletic, white-haired man says to the slight, desert-hued half-elf, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Yes. "The pockmarked, balding man picks up a thick leather belt.
The lean, scar-faced woman picks up a gurth shell bracer.
Looking over to you, the rangy, silver-eyed woman asks, in southern-accented sirihish:
"The drov?"The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man puts a pair of gurth shell and leather leggings inside a plain bag of cloth.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf says to the athletic, white-haired man, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Apparently, these T'zai Byn don't have many manners. . "The pockmarked, balding man picks up a snug, red and white silk belt.
The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man picks up a bloodied sueded duskhorn leather tunic.
The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man picks up a pair of spiked duskhorn gauntlets.
The black-striped dusky male dwarf clenches his shield and glowers at the group of brown aba'd scavengers.
The lean, scar-faced woman brandishes a leaf-carved bone shortsword.
Rubbing at her scalp, the mohawked, scar-faced girl whispers something to the black-striped dusky male dwarf.
The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man stops using a dusty pair of fingerless sandcloth gloves.
The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man pulls a pair of spiked duskhorn gauntlets onto his hands.
The thrice-braided, green-eyed man remains mounted, his mouth twisted as he watches the scene.
Smirking, the hawk-nosed, raven-haired man says, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Damn, this shit's lookin' good on me. "The lean, scar-faced woman sheathes a leaf-carved bone shortsword.
The lean, scar-faced woman picks up a dusty rough canvas backpack.
The thrice-braided, green-eyed man swings his legs to the side and dismounts.
The thrice-braided, green-eyed man picks up a dusty rib-hilted bone rapier.
The black-striped dusky male dwarf swings his legs to the side and dismounts.
The black-striped dusky male dwarf strides over to the slight, desert-hued half-elf.
Patting your blackened serrated bone warsword against a rusty brown kank's side a few times, you say to the slight,
desert-hued half-elf, in sirihish:
"No need for cryin’, Sergeant, we're just cleanin' the roads for yeh lovely Kuracis. "A grey kank rubs its mandibles together.
Flicking his reins, the athletic, white-haired man says, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Anything with the Salarri insignia, drop it off at the estate. "The pockmarked, balding man picks up a dusty worn, carru-hide pack.
The lean, scar-faced woman fastens a gurth shell bracer around her wrist.
The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man jumps up onto a yellow kank's back.
To the west is North Road.
[Very far]
Nothing.
[Far]
Nothing.
[Near]
Nothing.To the east is North Road.
[Very far]
Nothing.[Far]
Nothing.[Near]
Nothing.The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man unstraps a dusty yellow-embroidered canvas backpack from a yellow kank's back.
The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man swings his legs to the side and dismounts.
The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man wears a dusty yellow-embroidered canvas backpack on his back, covering jagged whip scars.
The pockmarked, balding man jumps up onto a yellow kank's back.
The pockmarked, balding man straps a dusty worn, carru-hide pack to a yellow kank's back.
Glancing around with a grunt, you ask, in sirihish:
"Yeh get 'nuff, Fists?"Looking down at the pile of remains, the athletic, white-haired man says, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Anything else, it is yours. "The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man removes a bloodied carru-leather jacket.
The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man puts a bloodied carru-leather jacket inside a dusty yellow-embroidered canvas backpack.
The lean, scar-faced woman picks up a long-handled, flint lumber axe.
The pockmarked, balding man opens a snug, red and white silk belt.
Looking up, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Hardly necessary. "The black-striped dusky male dwarf whispers something to the slight, desert-hued half-elf.
The lean, scar-faced woman drops a long-handled, flint lumber axe.
The thrice-braided, green-eyed man jumps up onto a yellow kank's back.
You think:
“The mul could probably snap off half these Kuraci’s heads ‘fore they got a word in.”The slight, desert-hued half-elf jumps up onto a grey kank's back.
The lean, scar-faced woman picks up a dusty skull-carved, broad bone battle-axe.
The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man removes a dusty dusky chitin neck-guard.
You think:
“All us’d snap their necks off quicker’n a Whiran fartin’ in the wind.”The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man puts a dusty dusky chitin neck-guard inside a dusty yellow-embroidered canvas backpack.
The pockmarked, balding man straps on a snug, red and white silk belt as a belt.
A saffron-colored kank walks east, carrying the athletic, white-haired man on his back.
The mohawked, scar-faced girl jumps up onto a yellow kank's back.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf sweeps a palm upward, turning a grey kank around.
The rangy, silver-eyed woman purses her lips looking over the mess on the roamd then lifts her hands to scure her dusty
desert-camouflaged sandcloth facewrap back on her face.
The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man puts a dusty pair of fingerless sandcloth gloves inside a dusty yellow-embroidered canvas
backpack.
The pockmarked, balding man opens a small pack.
The black-striped dusky male dwarf jumps up onto a yellow kank's back.
The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man gets a dusty dusky chitin neck-guard from a dusty yellow-embroidered canvas backpack.
The pockmarked, balding man puts a thick leather belt inside a small pack.
The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man bows his head, placing a dusty dusky chitin neck-guard about his neck.
The pockmarked, balding man puts a tan, yellow-striped tembo-hide belt inside a small pack.
The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man puts a bloodied sueded duskhorn leather tunic inside a dusty yellow-embroidered canvas
backpack.
The lean, scar-faced woman holds a dusty leather-banded chitin shield.
Swinging your blackened serrated bone warsword forwards and smiling, you exclaim, in sirihish:
"A'right, Fists, let's head on!"The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man picks up a new bloodied chitin and leather jacket.
The pockmarked, balding man fits a pair of gurth shell and leather sleeves on his arms.
The black-striped dusky male dwarf glowers at the Byn as he rides on.
A rusty brown kank leisurely waves its antennae about.
North Road [EW]
The stark white of this wide stone road lies across these scrub
forests like the spine of some gargantuan carcass. Blowing, gritty dusts
cover the road in some places, and pech grasses have, here and there, taken
root in and among the flagstones. This pale backbone of a road lies across
these lands in a long and twisting fashion, following the southern border of
the Grey Forest.
Far to the north lies the dim and shadowy blotch on the horizon which
marks the Grey Forest, while to the south stretches the vast sweep of the
scrub plains. Dense tangles of thorny, impassable bushes border the road to
the north and south.
A few disembodied heads of a gortok are here.
A few piles of assorted canine bones are here.
The lean, scar-faced woman has arrived from the west.
An erdlu has arrived from the west.
The pockmarked, balding man has arrived from the west, riding a yellow kank.
The reddish-eyed, coppery mul has arrived from the west, riding a yellow kank.To the west is North Road.
[Very far]
Nothing.
[Far]
Nothing.
[Near]
A saffron-colored kank stands here, carrying the rangy, silver-eyed woman on his back.
A yellow kank stands here, carrying the hawk-nosed, raven-haired man on his back.
A yellow kank stands here, carrying the thrice-braided, green-eyed man on his back.
A yellow kank stands here, carrying the black-striped dusky male dwarf on his back.
A yellow kank stands here, carrying the mohawked, scar-faced girl on his back.
A grey kank stands here, carrying the slight, desert-hued half-elf on his back.
The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man has arrived from the west, riding a yellow kank.The lean, scar-faced woman jumps up onto an erdlu's back.
The lean, scar-faced woman stops using a leaf-carved bone shortsword.
To the west is North Road.
[Very far]
Nothing.
[Far]
Nothing.
[Near]
A saffron-colored kank stands here, carrying the short female wearing a dusty desert-camouflaged sandcloth facewrap on hisback.
A yellow kank stands here, carrying the thrice-braided, green-eyed man on his back.
A yellow kank stands here, carrying the black-striped dusky male dwarf on his back.
A yellow kank stands here, carrying the mohawked, scar-faced girl on his back.
A grey kank stands here, carrying the slight, desert-hued half-elf on his back.The pockmarked, balding man gets a pile of allanaki coins from a snug, red and white silk belt.
The pockmarked, balding man gets a pile of coins from a snug, red and white silk belt.
The reddish-eyed, coppery mul asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Get some nice gear sir?"The pockmarked, balding man puts a pile of allanaki coins inside a snug, red and white silk belt.
Shaking his head, you say to the reddish-eyed, coppery mul, in sirihish:
"Nope. "The pockmarked, balding man closes a snug, red and white silk belt.
You think:
“Bunch of fuckin’ greedy, two-bit mercenaries…gotta love’m.”The dusky, raven-haired man sighs as he rides along on his rusty brown kank.
North Road [NEW]
The stark white of this wide stone road lies across these scrub
forests like the spine of some gargantuan carcass. Blowing, gritty dusts
cover the road in some places, and pech grasses have, here and there, taken
root in and among the flagstones. This pale backbone of a road lies...
Continue Reading...Khortoc Salarr by Biscuits
Added on May 14, 2007A Storm Approaches.
Communion by Marauder Moe
Added on May 12, 2007An Oash mage performs a dangerous magickal ritual for his lord and a templar.
The Temple of Ruk [SD]
The walls of this small temple are made of smooth mud brick, the
greyish red color of their composition left uncovered. The air is still and
quiet, an atmosphere of peace and silence permeating the room. Statues,
carved of dark stone, their forms amorphous and unguessable, are spaced
evenly around the borders, what would seem to be their gaze directed towards
the center of the temple, where a large clay dish has been placed on a
pedestal, filled with murky water.
A large open archway leads south out of the temple and onto the streets
of Allanak, while a stone spiral staircase descends into the ground below,
covered by a thin sheet of sand.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man is standing here.
The onyx human female is standing here.
The arruth-eyed teen girl is standing here.
A half-giant soldier of Tektolnes walks along here.
The prim, midnight-haired templar is standing here.
A human soldier of Tektolnes walks along here.
A burly dwarf is here, watching the area.
A pale, purple-haired woman stands here, beside a statue.
The veteran mercenary has arrived from the south.
The veteran mercenary has arrived from the south.
The veteran mercenary has arrived from the south.
The veteran mercenary has arrived from the south.
The arruth-eyed teen girl bows her head to the prim, midnight-haired templar.
The slim, auburn-haired man glances at one of the mercnaries following him closely.
The arruth-eyed teen girl starts cleaning.
The arruth-eyed teen girl dusts herself off.
The slim, auburn-haired man bows at the waist to the prim, midnight-haired templar.
The onyx human female's feet come to a sudden halt as she enters thetemple, bowing as she steps aside from the doorway, eyes wide.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man's caliginous gaze sweeps over theinterior of the temple as his entourage files in, clasping a pouch athis back.
The arruth-eyed teen girl looks up at the onyx human female.
The prim, midnight-haired templar looks at the onyx human female.
Offering a generous incline of his head, the dour, gloomy-eyed young man says to the prim, midnight-haired templar, in sirihish:
"Just Templar Sarador, good morn'."
The arruth-eyed teen girl looks at you.
The prim, midnight-haired templar says to the dour, gloomy-eyed young man, in sirihish:
"Lesavius, good day."
The prim, midnight-haired templar asks the dour, gloomy-eyed young man, in sirihish:
"Which of these is with your party?"
Dangling his rune-marked pouch on a leather cord between two fingers,the dour, gloomy-eyed young man says to the prim, midnight-hairedtemplar, in sirihish:
"The Advisor, and Lapis, his pupil. The lass."
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man gives a rune-marked pouch on a leather cord to the prim, midnight-haired templar.
The prim, midnight-haired templar asks the dour, gloomy-eyed young man, in sirihish:
"Does his pupil need to attend?"
The prim, midnight-haired templar glances at the arruth-eyed teen girl.
The slim, auburn-haired man gestures at the arruth-eyed teen girl.
The arruth-eyed teen girl falls in behind you.
The arruth-eyed teen girl takes a single step closer to you, but pauses to glance to the dour, gloomy-eyed young man.
With a sharp sniff, the dour, gloomy-eyed young man says to the prim, midnight-haired templar, in sirihish:
"She is studying under the Advisor. Unless youhave any dire objections, I'd like her to witness the rite."
The prim, midnight-haired templar looks at the arruth-eyed teen girl with some scrutiny.
The prim, midnight-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"Very well. She is to remain silent throughout the process."
Aside, the dour, gloomy-eyed young man says to the prim, midnight-haired templar, in sirihish:
"The decision is yours. I included the piece Ihad aquired some time ago - the ruby - with the others. It should provethe most worthy."
The arruth-eyed teen girl nods her head twice, taking another step closer to you.
The onyx human female stands with her back to the wall, motionlessexcept her pale eyes that dart back and forth with conversation.
The prim, midnight-haired templar asks the onyx human female, in sirihish:
"You, who are you?"
Glancing over sharply, the dour, gloomy-eyed young man says to the arruth-eyed teen girl, in sirihish:
"You stay with -me-, Lapis. Merely watch the Advisor and remain perfectly silent."
The prim, midnight-haired templar points at the onyx human female.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man looks up at the onyx human female with a swivel of his darting eyes.
With a sudden bow, eyes downcast, the onyx human female says to the prim, midnight-haired templar, in sirihish:
"I am the Ebony Bardess Gilti, my Lord Templar."
Leaning over, you whisper to the arruth-eyed teen girl in sirihish:
"Lapis, I'm going to need you to try your very best to not be frightened during this."
The prim, midnight-haired templar says to the onyx human female, in sirihish:
"Yes, thats quite wonderful. Fuck off."
The prim, midnight-haired templar points south.
The arruth-eyed teen girl makes a curious facial expression, frowning slightly.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man sweeps his wine-purpled tongue over his teeth, eyeing the onyx human female shrewdly.
The prim, midnight-haired templar says to the onyx human female, in sirihish:
"Your presence in the Temple is not permitted for the moment."
Glancing in the direction his finger points, the onyx human female asks the prim, midnight-haired templar, in sirihish:
"But, Lord Templar, I was going to get somerest in the temple...may I beg leave to do that, rather than leave?"
Gesturing towards the prim, midnight-haired templar, you whisper to the arruth-eyed teen girl in sirihish:
"Between Lord Templar Sarador and myself, we'll be quite safe."
The prim, midnight-haired templar says to the onyx human female, in sirihish:
"You may, though if I see you trying to observe our business you will pay severely."
As her chin nearly meets her chest, the onyx human female says, in sirihish:
"Your will, Lord Templar."
The prim, midnight-haired templar nods, and gestures towards the entrance to the Temple below.
The onyx human female edges along the wall a step, before stepping quickly at the prim, midnight-haired templar's gesture.
The sand over the stairs ripples and parts, rolling away before the onyx human female.
The onyx human female walks down.
The prim, midnight-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"Let us commence then..."
**The group makes their way into the temple**
You whisper to the arruth-eyed teen girl in sirihish:
"But you can't scream or throw any magick or anything. Just stay with Lord Oash."
Whispering as he descends, the dour, gloomy-eyed young man says, in sirihish:
"Wonderful."
The arruth-eyed teen girl glances quickly at you and blinks suddenly.
The prim, midnight-haired templar asks you, in sirihish:
"Is there a chamber which is best suited for this?"
The arruth-eyed teen girl looks at the dour, gloomy-eyed young man.
Nodding and pointing to the south, you say to the prim, midnight-haired templar, in sirihish:
"Yes."
The arruth-eyed teen girl turns to the dour, gloomy-eyed young man and takes a few steps towards him.
**They go to an empty room**
Before the Sand Fountain [E]
A large, black marble figure rises out of the ground here, its arms
outstretched, reaching out towards the viewer. Its large, stylized head
hangs out over a wide, round pool of sand, huge mouth gaping open. Deep
sunk stone eyes peer sightlessly out at the world as, mysteriously, sand
pours endlessly from its gaping mouth, dribbling down its chin and into the
pool of sand. Oddly, the level of the sand in the pool doesn't seem to
change, though the rate at which the sand pours out of the statue's mouth
never seems to slow down.
The pool is tiled with white and black marble tiles, each sixth one
inlaid with the symbol of Ruk in red stone. Candles ring the pool of sand,
casting a yellowish light, and apart from the soft hiss of sand as it pours,
the air is silent. To the east, a large open archway leads out into a
darkened passageway.
Some strips of kank steak are here.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man is standing here, looking a bit winded.
The arruth-eyed teen girl is standing here, looking a bit winded.
The prim, midnight-haired templar is standing here, looking a bit winded.
The veteran mercenary has arrived from the east.
The veteran mercenary has arrived from the east.
The veteran mercenary has arrived from the east.
The veteran mercenary has arrived from the east.
A human Allanaki soldier has arrived from the east.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the east.
close door
Ok.
The arruth-eyed teen girl folds her hands behind her back, lacing the fingers together tightly.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man's guards take up rigid stances oneither side of the doorway, himself standing closely to the wall beside.
You feel a bit nervous, but also excited..
The prim, midnight-haired templar looks towards the dour, gloomy-eyed young man, examining his guard and nods his approval.
You get a ragged hempcloth pouch from a hooded, black aba trimmed in azure.
It is very light, and less than half full.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man snaps two muted fingers towards thearruth-eyed teen girl, then points to the floor beside him against thewall.
The prim, midnight-haired templar says to you, in sirihish:
"You may proceed when you're ready."
The slim, auburn-haired man pours several blue crystals out of your ragged hempcloth pouch in to his hand.
You get a small piece of crystal from a ragged hempcloth pouch.
It is very light.
You get a small piece of crystal from a ragged hempcloth pouch.
It is very light.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man looks at the prim, midnight-haired templar with a returning nod before looking to you.
You get a small piece of crystal from a ragged hempcloth pouch.
It is very light.
You get a small piece of crystal from a ragged hempcloth pouch.
It is very light.
The pouch does not contain 'crystal'.
The prim, midnight-haired templar steps between his escort.
The arruth-eyed teen girl's jaw tightens visibly.
The slim, auburn-haired man steps into the center of the room, next to a large, black marble fountain.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
Glancing over his shoulder, you ask the prim, midnight-haired templar, in sirihish:
"How strong?"
The prim, midnight-haired templar focuses off into space for a moment, before setting his attention on you.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man sends you a telepathic message:
"Make sure you are properly protected."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
The prim, midnight-haired templar says to you, in sirihish:
"I leave that choice to you."
The prim, midnight-haired templar says to you, in sirihish:
"As strong as you feel capable of handling reasonably."
The slim, auburn-haired man nods, then kneels on the ground and presses his hand to the floor.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man nods in agreement from where he stands, eyeing you.
cast 'sul un censored magick words' me
The earth trembles in response to your call.
You are getting hungry.
The slim, auburn-haired man utters the incantation, 'sul un censored magick words'.
Ok.
Your skin turns to a stone-like substance.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man bobs his head silently, his glinting eyes resting on you.
The slim, auburn-haired man returns to his feet and takes a deep breath.
A muted rumble sounds from the walls and floor of the chamber as theslim, auburn-haired man turns to face the far end of the room.
Clutching several blue crystals in one hand, the slim, auburn-hairedman starts to chant. The rumbling strengthens in time with hisvoice, giving it an unnaturally deep quality.
cast 'kral un censored magick words'
The earth trembles in response to your call.
The slim, auburn-haired man utters the incantation, 'kral un censored magick words'.
You lost your concentration!
The prim, midnight-haired templar stands with a resolute expression, posture composed.
The prim, midnight-haired templar shouts, in an unfamiliar tongue:
"py rio naguo oh duihujooo, apgon yaod kuogypr mje sjmorwpa ap a syws-soibs!"
The prim, midnight-haired templar utters the incantation, 'mon un censored magick words'.
The prim, midnight-haired templar's muscles bulge with newfound strength.
The slim, auburn-haired man pauses and takes another long breath beforerepeating the chant, calling forth the rumbling once more.
cast 'kral un censored magick words'
The earth trembles in response to your call.
The prim, midnight-haired templar takes a quiet inhale, gazing at you.
The slim, auburn-haired man utters the incantation, 'kral un censored magick words'.
Ok.
A small piece of crystal folds in upon itself with an audible grinding noise.
You're now wanted!
You focus your will as a man-sized sandstone golem is brought to this plane.
A man-sized sandstone golem falls in behind you.
The prim, midnight-haired templar looks at a man-sized sandstone golem.
l golem
Of average human height, this sandstone mass is an impressive sight if
for nothing more than the depression it causes in the ground: evidence of
its tremendous weight. The head is little more than a block with indented
holes to represent the eyes and wide mouth. Meanwhile, the limbs are thick
and blocky, ending with stubby digits.
A man-sized sandstone golem is in excellent condition.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man looks at a man-sized sandstone golem with a rapid blink of his eyes.
The slim, auburn-haired man grits his teeth and stares at a man-sized sandstone golem.
A man-sized sandstone golem turns to stare at you, the floor groaning under its weight.
The arruth-eyed teen girl's skin pales somewhat, her eyes trailing from you to a man-sized sandstone golem.
The arruth-eyed teen girl looks at a man-sized sandstone golem.
Lowering his hands, you say, in sirihish:
"I have it. It's mine."
The prim, midnight-haired templar nods at you.
Speaking softly, the prim, midnight-haired templar says to a man-sized sandstone golem, in an unfamiliar tongue:
"korqihe va eoo hpoui, pariqei eo ser..."
Its voice crackling like the sounds of rock on rock, a man-sized sandstone golem asks you, in an unfamiliar tongue:
".."ge'x gepa"? gui rhaok r iq iyul ageve?"
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man forces a deep swallow as he glances between you and a man-sized sandstone golem.
You are getting hungry.
The slim, auburn-haired man looks between the prim, midnight-haired templar and a man-sized sandstone golem curiously.
Gesturing at the prim, midnight-haired templar, you say to a man-sized sandstone golem, in sirihish:
"Speak with him."
A man-sized sandstone golem looks at the prim, midnight-haired templar.
The arruth-eyed teen girl's shoulders shake with a gentle but chronic tremble.
A man-sized sandstone golem's rocky mouth turns into a sneering frown as it regards the prim, midnight-haired templar.
You think:
"This is amazing! It -is- intelligent! It speaks!"
The prim, midnight-haired templar asks a man-sized sandstone golem, in an unfamiliar tongue:
"kie tag aoqeargisk ryh, xuk yei? ohef roiijk qe jseojf qfus pys, hgioe kiioee?"
It's voice like the sounds of breaking rock, a man-sized sandstone golem says, in earth-accented sirihish:
"Yes, I speak both tongues, servant of the Putrid Beast."
You think:
"I only hope they're speaking the same language..."
The slim, auburn-haired man bites his lip nervously.
The prim, midnight-haired templar says to a man-sized sandstone golem, in sirihish:
"I will not abide blasphemy..."
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man draws a sharp inhale, recoiling back a bit as he watches a man-sized sandstone golem.
Its voice rocky, a man-sized sandstone golem says to the prim, midnight-haired templar, in earth-accented sirihish:
"Then stop your mouth from moving."
A man-sized sandstone golem says, in earth-accented sirihish:
"For servants of He Who Defiles perform blasphemy against the Old Way, each day they breath."
The arruth-eyed teen girl bites down on her lower lip.
The slim, auburn-haired man shoots an uncertain glance over his shoulder towards the dour, gloomy-eyed young man.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man glances harshly between the prim, midnight-haired templar and you.
You think:
"This can't be good..."
With a faint roll of his eyes, the prim, midnight-haired templar says to a man-sized sandstone golem, in sirihish:
"This is not the topic I had intended to discuss."
Its face stoic as it speaks, a man-sized sandstone golem says to the prim, midnight-haired templar, in earth-accented sirihish:
"But the one who summoned me has ordered me tospeak to you. So speak to you I will.. servant of the RottingKing."
Inhaling sharply, you say to a man-sized sandstone golem, in sirihish:
"Speak and speak politely."
The prim, midnight-haired templar says to you, in sirihish:
"Kelad, ask him about the visions. Thenext words I speak to this blasphemous creature will be the ones todestroy it."
The arruth-eyed teen girl looks at you.
The arruth-eyed teen girl looks at a man-sized sandstone golem.
The slim, auburn-haired man glances at the prim, midnight-haired templar and nods.
Taking a deep breath first, you ask a man-sized sandstone golem, in sirihish:
"I've had a vision, possibly of the place you just came from. Are you aware of this?"
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The prim, midnight-haired templar looks at a man-sized sandstone golem.
Its stone head shifting from side to side, a man-sized sandstone golem says to you, in earth-accented sirihish:
"No."
The prim, midnight-haired templar looks at you.
The prim, midnight-haired templar pardons you of your crimes.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man sends you a telepathic message:
"Tell it you have heard voices, and you need to know if it is really the earth speaking to you.."
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man sends you a telepathic message:
"Or an imposter..."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
Nodding faintly, you ask a man-sized sandstone golem, in sirihish:
"Then, do you know of the one named Betob?"
No emotion showing on its face, a man-sized sandstone golem says to you, in earth-accented sirihish:
"Yes."
You say to a man-sized sandstone golem, in sirihish:
"Tell me about Betob."
A trickle of sand pouring from its mouth, a man-sized sandstone golem says to you, in earth-accented sirihish:
"Betob is a great Mountain of Ruk. One of the more powerful of our kind to exist."
A man-sized sandstone golem says, in earth-accented sirihish:
"With the shaking of the world he could flatten this weak building to the ground."
One stoney hand raising to gesture, a man-sized sandstone golem says, in earth-accented sirihish:
"Bring to the knees of humility half this city."
With a quick nod, you ask a man-sized sandstone golem, in sirihish:
"I understand. Has he been communicating with those like me recently?"
The prim, midnight-haired templar looks at a man-sized sandstone golem.
Both hands opening to show cracks in his palms, a man-sized sandstone golem says, in earth-accented sirihish:
"I do not know. Possibly. He has done so before, when the third city prospered."
contact Lesavius
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the dour, gloomy-eyed young man with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the dour, gloomy-eyed young man:
"I'm out of questions. This creature seems to have confirmed Nara's story, though."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The slim, auburn-haired man nods thoughtfully.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man sends you a telepathic message:
"Ask it -why- Betob might have asked you to look for a 'psiak' component."
The prim, midnight-haired templar says to you, in sirihish:
"As about the component these visions seek."
You dissolve the psychic link.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man sends you a telepathic message:
"And ask it if it might know where you can find something like what Betob is asking you to get for it."
You ask a man-sized sandstone golem, in sirihish:
"Alright, why would the great Betob wish a magick component from this world?"
The slim, auburn-haired man holds out your small piece of crystal demonstrativly.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man sends you a telepathic message:
"What it might look like, what shape it might be, what it would be made of..."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
You hold the crystal.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man stares at you with a glazed distance, a deep breath squaring his posture.
A man-sized sandstone golem holds a hand out towards you, palm up.
The arruth-eyed teen girl stares at a man-sized sandstone golem solemnly.
You give a small piece of crystal to a man-sized sandstone golem.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
A man-sized sandstone golem puts the crystal in his mouth, and chews it, crushing it with a loud, strange crunch.
A man-sized sandstone golem breaks a small piece of crystal.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man sends you a telepathic message:
"You may have to tell it that Betob has specifically asked for a 'psiak' component."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
The slim, auburn-haired man blinks in suprise.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man nods in quiet agreement to himself as he watches a man-sized sandstone golem.
A man-sized sandstone golem says, in earth-accented sirihish:
"Ruk is pure. There are no other elements polluting Ruk."
A man-sized sandstone golem says, in earth-accented sirihish:
"But things of the Plane of Life are the combination of all elements."
Sand pouring from its mouth as it speaks, a man-sized sandstone golem says, in earth-accented sirihish:
"So, there are things here that are unobtainable on Ruk"
You think:
"Got it."
A man-sized sandstone golem says, in earth-accented sirihish:
"Things like water, fire."
With an understanding nod, you ask a man-sized sandstone golem, in sirihish:
"I see. Why then would he want a component for the word 'psiak' in particular?"
The prim, midnight-haired templar looks at a man-sized sandstone golem.
Its rocky shoulders rising a bit, a man-sized sandstone golem says, in earth-accented sirihish:
"I do not know what specifics he wishes it for."
The prim, midnight-haired templar watches a man-sized sandstone golem, expressions drawn in silent observation.
A man-sized sandstone golem says, in earth-accented sirihish:
"You would have to ask him."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man sends you a telepathic message:
"Ask it -what- the component he wants looks like.'Psiak', at 'mon'. Also ask it how you can talk back to Betob."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
With a slow nod, you ask a man-sized sandstone golem, in sirihish:
"Yes well, I may. Do you know, though,what form a psiak component at the power of mon would take?"
A gravely tone to its voice, a man-sized sandstone golem says, in earth-accented sirihish:
"Perhaps Betob intends to create a powerful - or everlasting - enchantment upon himself."
A man-sized sandstone golem holds out its hand towards you, palm up.
The slim, auburn-haired man glances down at his palm.
You give a small piece of crystal to a man-sized sandstone golem.
A man-sized sandstone golem takes the crystal and devours it like food, a loud, strange crunching sound.
You are hungry.
The arruth-eyed teen girl flinches at the crunching.
You think:
"I wonder if they're tasty. Usually I'm a decent cook."
A man-sized sandstone golem says, in earth-accented sirihish:
"A blade with but one edge often embodies Psiak.. find one of great value."
You think:
"Well shit, I knew -that- already."
A man-sized sandstone golem says, in earth-accented sirihish:
"An <censored>, made of <censored>, perhaps.."
You think:
"But that I didn't know."
The slim, auburn-haired man nods quickly.
A man-sized sandstone golem says, in earth-accented sirihish:
"Or a <censored>, like <censored>, <censored>."
The ground seemingly to barely noticably sink beneath its weight, a man-sized sandstone golem says, in earth-accented sirihish:
"Imbued with power, by your hands."
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man pats himself down, bowing his headcuriously as his fingers lay on the hilt of his azure-handled,finely-carved shortsword.
Nodding rapidly, you say to a man-sized sandstone golem, in sirihish:
"Good, good."
Pointing at the prim, midnight-haired templar, a man-sized sandstone golem says, in earth-accented sirihish:
"Likely you could trade his head for it, to the enemies of the King Who Defiles"
The prim, midnight-haired templar grips his medallion of Tektolnes andglares at a man-sized sandstone golem, his other hand pointing towardshim.
The prim, midnight-haired templar shouts, in sirihish:
"In the name of the Highlord, let the foul magicks present here be cleansed!"
The prim, midnight-haired templar utters an incantation.
A fiery light sparks from the prim, midnight-haired templar's hands towards a man-sized sandstone golem.
The diffused air around a man-sized sandstone golem wavers momentarily.
A man-sized sandstone golem becomes less angry.
A man-sized sandstone golem regains mental control.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man flits a quick glance to the veteran mercenary.
The slim, auburn-haired man gasps.
The prim, midnight-haired templar shouts, in sirihish:
"In the name of the Highlord, let the foul magicks present here be cleansed!"
The prim, midnight-haired templar utters an incantation.
The arruth-eyed teen girl's arms fold up over her head.
A human Allanaki soldier tries to protect the prim, midnight-haired templar but fails!
The half-giant soldier tries to protect the prim, midnight-haired templar but fails!
A man-sized sandstone golem lightly hits the prim, midnight-haired templar's leg.
The prim, midnight-haired templar swiftly dodges a man-sized sandstone golem's hits.
A man-sized sandstone golem swiftly dodges the prim, midnight-haired templar's hits.
A man-sized sandstone golem swiftly dodges the prim, midnight-haired templar's hits.
The prim, midnight-haired templar shouts, in sirihish:
"In the name of the Highlord, let the foul magicks present here be cleansed!"
A man-sized sandstone golem hits at the prim, midnight-haired templar's body, nicking him.
The prim, midnight-haired templar swiftly dodges a man-sized sandstone golem's hits.
A man-sized sandstone golem swiftly dodges the prim, midnight-haired templar's hits.
A man-sized sandstone golem swiftly dodges the prim, midnight-haired templar's hits.
The veteran mercenary leaps before the dour, gloomy-eyed young man.
The prim, midnight-haired templar utters an incantation.
A fiery light sparks from the prim, midnight-haired templar's hands towards a man-sized sandstone golem.
The diffused air around a man-sized sandstone golem wavers momentarily.
A man-sized sandstone golem becomes less angry.
A stillness descends around a man-sized sandstone golem and he slowly fades away.
You stop holding a small piece of crystal.
The prim, midnight-haired templar shouts, in sirihish:
"In the name of the Highlord, let the foul magicks present here be cleansed!"
The prim, midnight-haired templar utters an incantation.
The slim, auburn-haired man slowly lowers his hands which he had raised defensivly.
The prim, midnight-haired templar grunts, and steps back as his spell destroys the golem the moments after it strikes.
The arruth-eyed teen girl peeks out between her arms.
The arruth-eyed teen girl's quivers.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man's shoulders deflate in relief, the veteran mercenary moving to the side.
The prim, midnight-haired templar glances down at his bloodiedjade-studded, black-scaled hauberk, a bit of rock and sand visiblewhere the creature hit him.
The prim, midnight-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"Blaspheming creature..."
The prim, midnight-haired templar says to the dour, gloomy-eyed young man, in sirihish:
"We got what we wanted from it."
The prim, midnight-haired templar turns to the dour, gloomy-eyed young man.
Nodding his head sharply as he glances to you, the dour, gloomy-eyedyoung man says to the prim, midnight-haired templar, in sirihish:
"Indeed we did."
The arruth-eyed teen girl licks her dried lips, wetting them.
Clearing his throat before speaking, the dour, gloomy-eyed young man says to you, in sirihish:
"Good work Advisor."
The arruth-eyed teen girl drops her arms back to her sides, with some visible effort.
The prim, midnight-haired templar says to you, in sirihish:
"Yes, Kelad. Well done..."
With an uneasy voice, you say to the dour, gloomy-eyed young man, in sirihish:
"Thankyou... Lord Oash."
Pursing his lips in contemplation, the dour, gloomy-eyed young man says to the prim, midnight-haired templar, in sirihish:
"How interesting how it accepted the offerings..."
The prim, midnight-haired templar says to the dour, gloomy-eyed young man, in sirihish:
"Yes, quite interesting. I suppose that was good food for a creature of Ruk."
The arruth-eyed teen girl opens her mouth, then shuts it with a click of teeth.
Extending a gloved hand, the dour, gloomy-eyed young man says to the prim, midnight-haired templar, in sirihish:
"I'm pleased we didn't have to sacrifice the ruby."
The prim, midnight-haired templar says to the dour, gloomy-eyed young man, in sirihish:
"Yes, that would have been wasteful to give to that pathetic, though wise, creature."
The prim, midnight-haired templar glances at the half-giant soldier and you.
After a few slow breaths, the slim, auburn-haired man calms visibly.
Shifting his gaze back to you, the dour, gloomy-eyed young man asks the prim, midnight-haired templar, in sirihish:
"We just may be able to use it later. Have westill need for the Advisor, or shall we move on elsewhere to discuss?"
Looking at his escort, the prim, midnight-haired templar asks, in sirihish:
"Got scared of it did you? Didn't protect me well did you?"
The slim, auburn-haired man wipes a hand across his stone-grey forehead.
The prim, midnight-haired templar snorts, glaring at the half-giant soldier.
You are famished.
The prim, midnight-haired templar turns back to the dour, gloomy-eyed young man.
The prim, midnight-haired templar says to the dour, gloomy-eyed young man, in sirihish:
"Yes, let us retire to discussion."
With a bit of a wave, the dour, gloomy-eyed young man says to you, in sirihish:
"Regroup yourself, Advisor, and speak with your pupil. We'll speak on this later."
You ask the prim, midnight-haired templar, in sirihish:
"May I have this spell removed, Lord Templar?"
The prim, midnight-haired templar looks at you.
The prim, midnight-haired templar nods.
The arruth-eyed teen girl falls in behind you.
The prim, midnight-haired templar gestures, palm out, at you.
The prim, midnight-haired templar shouts, in sirihish:
"In the name of the Highlord, let the foul magicks present here be cleansed!"
The prim, midnight-haired templar utters an incantation.
A fiery light sparks from the prim, midnight-haired templar's hands towards you.
Your skin becomes softer.
Your skin becomes softer.
The arruth-eyed teen girl wrings her hands tightly in front of her, squeezing the fingers.
The veteran mercenary stops guarding the dour, gloomy-eyed young man.
The veteran mercenary begins guarding the dour, gloomy-eyed young man.
The veteran mercenary stops guarding the dour, gloomy-eyed young man.
The veteran mercenary begins guarding the dour, gloomy-eyed young man.
The veteran mercenary stops guarding you.
The veteran mercenary begins guarding the dour, gloomy-eyed young man.
The veteran mercenary stops guarding you.
The veteran mercenary begins guarding the dour, gloomy-eyed young man.
With a beckon to the two guards watching you, the dour, gloomy-eyed young man says, in sirihish:
"Both of you come with me."
Extending his azure-handled, finely-carved shortsword, the dour, gloomy-eyed young man says to you, in sirihish:
"See if you can do anything with this, Advisor."
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man gives you an azure-handled, finely-carved shortsword.
The prim, midnight-haired templar asks the dour, gloomy-eyed young man, in sirihish:
"Shall we depart then?"
With a sharp nod of his head, the dour, gloomy-eyed young man says to the prim, midnight-haired templar, in sirihish:
"Indeed, let's."
The prim, midnight-haired templar opens the door.
The prim, midnight-haired templar walks east.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man walks east.
The veteran mercenary walks east.
The veteran mercenary walks east.
The veteran mercenary walks east.
The veteran mercenary walks east.
A human Allanaki soldier walks east.
The half-giant soldier walks east.
close door
Ok.
The arruth-eyed teen girl looks at you.
The slim, auburn-haired man slowly shuts the door then looks over at the arruth-eyed teen girl.
The arruth-eyed teen girl peers at the sand fountain, then to you.
The arruth-eyed teen girl folds her hands behind her back, swallowing.
With a faint smile, you say to the arruth-eyed teen girl, in sirihish:
"You've had an interesting day."
The Temple of Ruk [SD]
The walls of this small temple are made of smooth mud brick, the
greyish red color of their composition left uncovered. The air is still and
quiet, an atmosphere of peace and silence permeating the room. Statues,
carved of dark stone, their forms amorphous and...
Continue Reading...Red Stormer by Grey Area
Added on May 12, 2007Character portrait.
The Case of the "Drove" Beetles by Manhattan
Added on May 5, 2007WARNING: RATED "R" FOR SOME VIOLENCE AND GORE. Come one, come all! Sit back, and revel in the outrageous tale of two militiamen. A patrol out in the desert turns out to be much more than they expected. They soon learn what the consequences are for their exaggerations... Audiences may find a certain comical aspect amongst all of it. Enjoy!
*****From the perspective of the splotched, mauve-tousled man******
You pass beneath the shadow of the black dragon.
Inside the Main Gate [NESW]
The main gate of the city-state of Allanak towers high here, its
twin obsidian towers separating the life-threatening perils of the
desert from the life-threatening perils of the city. Outside of the
gate, a wide road stretches outwards before circling around the city,
side roads branching in all directions: the boulder wastelands to the
west, the flat, empty plains to the south, and the endless, infernal
desert to the infinite north.
Inside the gate, Caravan Road plunges eastward into the heart of
the city, passing by the elemental temples and three Quarters before
reaching its end. Wall Road leads north and south, creeping along
the inside of the high city walls.
A yellow kank stands here, carrying the trim, ebon-haired templar on his back.
The pudgy, brown-haired half-giant soldier watches over the thick gates.
A human soldier of Tektolnes stands here, warily guarding the city gate.
The dark brown elf is standing here.
The bald, harshly-tanned soldier is standing here.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the west.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the west.The brawny, black-haired man has arrived from the west, riding a grey kank.
The trim, ebon-haired templar slips her blackened serrated bone warsword behind her backpack, examining a few ragged tears in her flesh.
Halting her kank and looking back, trying to hide the traces of pain on her face, the trim, ebon-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"Good work, you two."His head kept low in respect, you say to the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"It was a honor, milady. To ride with you."Half-bowing atop his kank, the brawny, black-haired man asks the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"C'n we help ya with anythin' else, Yer Ladyship?"Shaking her head, her left arm pressed against a bloody spot on her robe, the trim, ebon-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"No. I've a few places to go to now."The brawny, black-haired man nods and ushers his kank closer to you.
Turning back to face ahead, the trim, ebon-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"Dismissed."Pausing before he approaches the stables, you say to the brawny, black-haired man, in sirihish:
"Stay on that kank, recruit. You need the practice."The brawny, black-haired man says to you, in sirihish:
"Yessir. I'll ride 'im back and forth 'cross the city ten times if I gotta."You say to the brawny, black-haired man, in sirihish:
"Tell you what, you can practice that riding while we patrol the farming villages."A yellow kank walks east, carrying the trim, ebon-haired templar on his back.
The half-giant soldier walks east.
The half-giant soldier walks east.You ask the brawny, black-haired man, in sirihish:
"You up for it, recruit?"The brawny, black-haired man says to you, in sirihish:
"Sure."--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The two militiamen turn around on their kanks and ride back out into the desert. With Private Harlan at the lead, they begin their regular patrols of Allanak's surrounding villages, Recruit Soriel desperately trying to keep up.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------To the south are Dusty Plains.
[Very far]
Nothing.
[Far]
A huge black beetle crawls around the desert floor.
[Near]
Nothing.The brawny, black-haired man draws an obsidian-bladed battle axe.
You say to the brawny, black-haired man, in sirihish:
"Weapons out."You swing your legs to the side and dismount.
You unsling a massive bone greatsword from your back.
The brawny, black-haired man swings his legs to the side and dismounts.
The brawny, black-haired man draws a crescent-bladed obsidian axe.
Dusty Plains [NESW]
Endless arid plains and rugged rock outcroppings dominate the landscape
here. The desolate ground is mottled, with sand in one place, red dirt in
another, and sharp stones elsewhere; it is as if the winds had discarded
the refuse of creation here. The sun beats down on the barren ground with
heavy, dry heat, and a thick layer of dark red dust cakes everything.
The brawny, black-haired man has arrived from the north.
A grey kank has arrived from the north.
A yellow kank has arrived from the north.A large black beetle has arrived from the south.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Just as the skirmish begins, the duo is instantly torn apart by the beetle in a vicious onslaught. Naturally, the militiamen flee head over heels, spurring their kanks into a breakneck gallop. The beetle follows closely behind them as it scampers across the sands.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------Dusty Plains [NESW]
Endless arid plains and rugged rock outcroppings dominate the landscape
here. The desolate ground is mottled, with sand in one place, red dirt in
another, and sharp stones elsewhere; it is as if the winds had discarded
the refuse of creation here. The sun beats down on the barren ground with
heavy, dry heat, and a thick layer of dark red dust cakes everything.
A huge black beetle crawls around the desert floor.
A kank stands here, its yellow shell mottled with dust.
A grey kank stands here, vigorously waving its pinchers.
The brawny, black-haired man is standing here.A large black beetle bites the brawny, black-haired man on his body, wounding him.
You sling a massive bone greatsword across your back.
You jump up onto a yellow kank's back.
A large black beetle bites the brawny, black-haired man's leg, connecting hard.
The brawny, black-haired man sheathes an obsidian-bladed battle axe.
A large black beetle brutally bites the brawny, black-haired man on his wrist.
You exclaim to the brawny, black-haired man, in sirihish:
"Mount up and ditch!"--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Overwhelmed by the bloodthirsty beetle, Soriel pulls back and stumbles across the plains. Just as things couldn't get worse, another beetle, likely the first ones mate, joins the carnage. Harlan tugs on the reins of Soriel's kank and rides towards the road, where Soriel
was temporarily seeking sanctuary.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------A Rock-lined Road [NESW]
A small road of sorts runs from east to west here, a narrow greyish line
separating the endless dune-filled landscape to the north from the dull and
barren wastelands to the south. Small rocks mark the northern border of the
road, apparently cleared from the path. The crimson sun beats down upon the
dusty road, causing the rocks to shimmer slightly in the intense heat.
The brawny, black-haired man is standing here, bleeding heavily.
A grey kank has arrived from the south.You stop leading a grey kank.
The brawny, black-haired man begins leading a grey kank.
The brawny, black-haired man jumps up onto a grey kank's back.
You say to the brawny, black-haired man, in sirihish:
"C'mon, it's on our tail."--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The militiamen saddle up as fast as they can and continue their escape back to civilization. They make it safely back to Allanak, but not without terrible wounds. They stable their kanks, and assess their situation.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------The brawny, black-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Uh... private... I'm bleedin'.... everywhere."Wobbling in his steps, you say to the brawny, black-haired man, in sirihish:
"Shut..up...ya' lookit..me..."The splotched, mauve-tousled man coughs, dripping blood everywhere.
The brawny, black-haired man looks at you.
The brawny, black-haired man's eyes go wide.
Wavy locks of mauve-colored hair flays wildly on this young man's head.
He has a normal build, pronounced muscles and a somewhat discolored skin
tone. He is pale in some spots but also tanned-brown in others. There is a
light crimson stain the size of a coin on the side of his face, irregularly
shaped and noticeable from afar. His mmauve eyebrows emanate intensity as
they are thinly groomed and close together, as if giving him a scowl which
contradicts with the two permanent dimples on his smooth cheeks.
The splotched, mauve-tousled man looks near death.<worn on head> a new stained black, braxat-shell greathelm
<worn in hair> a thin leather headband
<worn on face> a pair of bone sunslits
<worn around neck> a reddish-brown chitinous collar
<slung across back> a massive bone greatsword
<worn across back> a bahamet-embroidered leather backpack
<worn on arms> a new pair of black, bone scalemail arm-guards
<worn around wrist> a scrab shell wristguard
<worn around wrist> a sleek black quirri-clawed bracer
<worn on hands> a pair of sable, chitin-plated leather gloves
<worn around body> a black, hooded militia dustcloak
<worn on legs> a bloodied set of cuirbouilli leg guards
<worn on right ankle> a black sandcloth bandana
<worn on left ankle> a black sandcloth bandana
<worn on feet> a pair of high, polished black leather bootsHalf-smirking, blood tracing his teeth, you say to the brawny, black-haired man, in sirihish:
"Still standin'."The brawny, black-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Mebbe... we better... go see them... healers... 'r else..."Coughing blood, the brawny, black-haired man says, in sirihish:
"we ain'.. gonna be able... t' go on... t' misshun."--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
With nothing but heading back to the barracks on their mind, they stagger down Theyak's Walk, rapidly losing blood.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------You say to the brawny, black-haired man, in sirihish:
"If ya can't heal in one week, I'll kick yer ass."The splotched, mauve-tousled man clutches his arms, a large gash lacerated on his flesh.
The brawny, black-haired man asks, in sirihish:
"From that? He took half me chest off, and that ain' even half what he did to you?"The splotched, mauve-tousled man pauses for a moment, falling to his knees.
As blood pulsates and spurts from his wounds, you exclaim, in sirihish:
"Krath..shit!"Painedly, the brawny, black-haired man asks you, in sirihish:
"You sure we shouldn' see them healers, Private...?"The splotched, mauve-tousled man eyes the massive pool around his body with wide-eyes of horror.
The brawny, black-haired man says to you, in sirihish:
"Better git afore y' start feelin' all them wounds..."Slowly crawling to his knees, you say to the brawny, black-haired man, in sirihish:
"Back...to the barracks...medics..."The brawny, black-haired man grunts and wraps an arm around your shoulders, helping you up.
The splotched, mauve-tousled man falls onto the brawny, black-haired man's arms, blood spilling all over the brawny, black-haired man's clothes.
The brawny, black-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Yessir..."--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
With Harlan slumped over his shoulders, Soriel painfully trudges towards the barracks.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------Eyeing his messy red wounds with horror, you exclaim to the brawny, black-haired man, in sirihish:
"What the fuck devil beetle was that!"The small, red-mopped boy sends you a telepathic message:
"I don't know where you are or what in Krath happened to you, but I've already informed the Vivaduans to make preparations to save your life. I'd get to their temple as soon as possible...You look like hell."As he stumbles through the gates, the brawny, black-haired man exclaims to the dusty, brown-haired soldier, in sirihish:
"Were five beetles, ambushed us! Crazy drov beetles they was!"A Roomy Barracks [NEW]
The thickness of the dull red mud bricks of which this barracks has
been built provides it with a coolness which resists the worst of the
Zalanthan sun. The furnishings are simple: neatly ordered cots sit in rows,
a few with footlockers built into one end, while a large weapons rack hangs
on the wall underneath a wooden frieze depicting the desert, gith, jozhals
and scrabs moving through the dunes. Below the frieze, extending down the
walls and covering the floor, are ceramic tiles composed of all the hues of
the desert: vermilion, bronze, amber, rust, tawny yellow, and ochre. The
tiles are laid in an abstract, undulating pattern reminiscent of rolling
dunes.
A simple wooden chest sits here on the floor.
A cracked stone storage bin, nearly falling apart, has been put here.
The brawny, black-haired man is standing here, bleeding heavily.The splotched, mauve-tousled man grunts as he is dragged along by the brawny, black-haired man, a bloody red trail in his wake.
The brawny, black-haired man drags you over to a cot and lowers you down before falling down to one near it.
The splotched, mauve-tousled man falls backwards into a small leather cot.
Groaning, the brawny, black-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Tryin'.. t' find... them healers'... minds...."His voice barely a whisper, you say to the brawny, black-haired man, in sirihish:
"Vivaduan temple...now...healers...waiting..."The splotched, mauve-tousled man rolls and falls from his cot.
Groaning as he pushes up, the brawny, black-haired man says to you, in sirihish:
"C'mon Private... I'll.. drag ya..."The brawny, black-haired man grabs your arms weakly to pull you up, and uses his brawny bulk to support your weight.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The wounded men make their way to the Vivaduan Temple, so close yet so far...and not without staining the streets with their dripping blood.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------The slender, sun-browned man sends you a telepathic message:
"If you're as fucked up as Jasper says, I'd suggest coming to the Temple, Private."Stumbling in as he half-carries a bloodied man, red streaks following his wake, the brawny, black-haired man walks west.
You follow the brawny, black-haired man, and walk west.The Temple of Vivadu [EW]
Here inside the Temple of Vivadu, the architecture is simple and
serene, surfaces unadorned to allow the beauty of the stonework to show
unobscured by excess ornamentation. In the center lies a large pool of
water, its basin carved of smooth blue stone, elementalists sitting around
it to meditate while contemplating its unruffled surface. The walls are
curved, forming a large cylinder which arches upwards towards a low,
white-painted dome. The floor is composed of alternating blue and grey
ceramic tiles, laid in rippling, wave-like patterns. In small alcoves along
the wall sit abstract sculptures, their clean, uncomplicated lines pleasing
to the eye.
An open archway, made of smooth grey stone, leads eastward outside the
temple towards Vivadu's Path. To the west, in the middle of the wall, a
small door appears to lead further into the temple.
The brawny, black-haired man is standing here, bleeding heavily.
The small, red-mopped boy is standing here.
The willowy, tangle-haired girl is standing here.
The slender, sun-browned man is standing here.
The sleek, pale-eyed woman stands here in quiet contemplation.Pointing weakly with a finger, you say to the brawny, black-haired man, in sirihish:
"There...there.."The willowy, tangle-haired girl's cheeks flush as she stares at the still-empty waterskin.
A fine mist condenses near the willowy, tangle-haired girl as she begins a spell.
The willowy, tangle-haired girl utters an incantation.
The willowy, tangle-haired girl opens her palm and water flows from her skin into a leather waterskin.Softly, the willowy, tangle-haired girl says, in rinthi-accented sirihish:
"c'mon dammit..."Turning towards the commotion at the entryway, the small, red-mopped boy says to the slender, sun-browned man, in sirihish:
"There they are."Keeping his gaze towards you as he furrows his brows, though speaking to the willowy, tangle-haired girl, the slender, sun-browned man says, in sirihish:
"Keep yourself relaxed, don't force anything.."Moisture suddenly swells up around the willowy, tangle-haired girl as water fills her leather waterskin completely and even overflows out of it.
Shaking his head as blood seeps onto the ground, you exclaim to the slender, sun-browned man, in sirihish:
"No, no, your floors... your floors!"The small, red-mopped boy looks up at you with a grim face as he steps back.
The brawny, black-haired man drags you a little further and then simply collapses as his knees give out.
Dropping you beside him, the brawny, black-haired man sits down to rest.
The willowy, tangle-haired girl looks at you going very still, with wide blue eyes.
Shifting his attention to the brawny, black-haired man with a brisk tone, the small, red-mopped boy asks, in sirihish:
"Recruit, what in Drov happened, and where is the Lady Templar?"Collapsing and following next to the brawny, black-haired man, you sit down and rest your tired bones.
Stepping towards you as he flicks his left hand dismissively, the slender, sun-browned man says, in sirihish:
"It's fine, Harlan. Keep quiet, hmm? I'm relatively certain my waters can clean a few stains.."Looking up, his voice weak, the brawny, black-haired man says to the small, red-mopped boy, in sirihish:
"She's fine... we went out fer a patrol after she got back... were five beetles... drov-beetles they was.. ambushed us..."Pressing his lips together as he shifts his azure-stained gaze towards the brawny, black-haired man, the slender, sun-browned man asks, in sirihish:
"Drov-beetles?"The splotched, mauve-tousled man's eyelids shut as he fades in and out of consciousness, his head rolling in the brawny, black-haired man's lap.
Murmuring to himself, the small, red-mopped boy asks, in sirihish:
"Five?"The small, red-mopped boy asks the brawny, black-haired man, in sirihish:
"How close to the city?"Nodding weakly, the brawny, black-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Were the size of.. of... giants... crazed... out fer blood..."Grunting softly to himself as he graps your ankles, dragging you to the edge of a shallow stone pool with a heavy grunt, the slender, sun-browned man asks, in sirihish:
"Jasper, tell him to shut up for now.. Contact the Lady Templar Oash, and bring here her, hmm?"Meekly, shivering as she stares at the two bleeding men, the willowy, tangle-haired girl says, in rinthi-accented sirihish:
"I... I um... yer skin's full."Sighing gently to himself, the slender, sun-browned man furrows his brows as he gazes downward towards you, lightly clasping his hands together as they shine with a faint layer of moisture.
The willowy, tangle-haired girl pushes her leather waterskin over to the small, red-mopped boy.
Dropping to his knees, the small, red-mopped boy says to the slender, sun-browned man, in sirihish:
"I believe she's unavailable, as i tried earlier. But I'll search for her mind again."The small, red-mopped boy sits down to rest.
Pausing to flash a quick smile up at the willowy, tangle-haired girl, the small, red-mopped boy says, in sirihish:
"Thanks."Surrendering a soft sigh, the slender, sun-browned man whispers a soothing hymn to himself, drawing his palms downward as light tendrils of mist begin to flood downward, seeping along your form within a shimmering sheen of dew.
The willowy, tangle-haired girl flushes and then slowly drags herself over near the slender, sun-browned man.
A fine mist condenses near the slender, sun-browned man as he begins a spell.
The slender, sun-browned man utters an incantation.
A warm feeling fills you, as wounds close all over your body.Quietly, the willowy, tangle-haired girl says to the slender, sun-browned man, in rinthi-accented sirihish:
"Lemme help..."Raising his left hand as he motions his chin towards the brawny, black-haired man, the slender, sun-browned man says, in sirihish:
"Help him, then, until I can treat him.."The brawny, black-haired man's eyes go wide as he watches the slender, sun-browned man.
The willowy, tangle-haired girl looks down at the brawny, black-haired man and nods slowly.
Shaking his head as he rises again, the small, red-mopped boy says, in sirihish:
"No, I can't reach any of the Templarate."The small, red-mopped boy rises from the ground, and clambers to his feet.
Relaxing his form visibly, the slender, sun-browned man clenches his rune-etched hands together, his knuckles turning white with strain as a small droplet splashes downward against your chest, allowing the rivulet to spread across a bloodied wound.
A fine mist condenses near the slender, sun-browned man as he begins a spell.
The slender, sun-browned man utters an incantation.
A warm feeling fills you, as wounds close all over your body.The willowy, tangle-haired girl pads over to the brawny, black-haired man and kneels down, brushing her hair out of her eyes as she looks over his wounds.
The small, red-mopped boy takes a swig from his leather waterskin as he shifts his attention to the brawny, black-haired man again.
Pulling back his hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth duster, the brawny, black-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Me leg... 'n half me ribs... that beetle were ferocious..."Sniffing softly as he brushes the underside of his nose, slowly rising to his feet as he glances downward towards you, the slender, sun-browned man says, in sirihish:
"Stay down there as long as you want.. You'll be fine, now."Blinking in surprise as he removes his leather waterskin from his lips, the small, red-mopped boy says, in sirihish:
"That's very good, Flower."The willowy, tangle-haired girl takes a deep breath, her hands shaking as she lays them on the brawny, black-haired man's chest, finding the open skin of the bleeding wounds with a warm touch.
The splotched, mauve-tousled man peers down at his torso with complete shock.
A fine mist condenses near the willowy, tangle-haired girl as she begins a spell.
The willowy, tangle-haired girl utters an incantation.
The willowy, tangle-haired girl heals the brawny, black-haired man.The willowy, tangle-haired girl passes her hands down over the brawny, black-haired man's chest and then down to his pants, then falls backward with a gasp, her body covered in a faint sheen of moisture.
Watching as his wounds visibly close up in front of him, by magickal forces, you ask the slender, sun-browned man, in sirihish:
"What the...where....wounds....gone?"The slender, sun-browned man folds his arms lightly across his chest as he watches the willowy, tangle-haired girl for a moment, flicking his azure-stained gaze towards a shallow stone pool as he quietly approaches it's edge, surrendering a painful sigh.
The splotched, mauve-tousled man summons the strength and picks himself up onto his feet.
Cringing for a moment as he gazes towards a shallow stone pool, before looking back towards you, the slender, sun-browned man says, in sirihish:
"Yes, they're gone, now.."Straightening, you rise and stand.
The brawny, black-haired man shivers in anticipation as moisture gathers around the willowy, tangle-haired girl, squeezing his eyes shut, then blinks them open a few times and sits straight up.
Speaking quietly as he heads for the street, the small, red-mopped boy says to the slender, sun-browned man, in sirihish:
"You've got enough people in here without me too, Kasyh. I'll be in the Barrel if you're feeling up to venturing out later."His cheeks flushing back to a healthy, glowing complexion, you say to the slender, sun-browned man, in sirihish:
"Kasyh."Glancing over his left shoulder towards the small, red-mopped boy, the slender, sun-browned man says, in sirihish:
"She's coming.."The brawny, black-haired man pulls back his hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth duster, freshly healed pink skin visible under the breaks in his breastplate and pants.
Pausing as he glances back over at the slender, sun-browned man, the small, red-mopped boy asks, in sirihish:
"Who's coming?"Pushing up to his feet with a dazed expression, the brawny, black-haired man rises and stands.
The brawny, black-haired man takes a few steps testingly.
Shaking his head faintly as he looks back towards you, the slender, sun-browned man says, in sirihish:
"It's my job, Private.."As he finds himself able to walk, the brawny, black-haired man shouts, in sirihish:
"Highlord be praised! She done fixed me!"Turning from the edge of a shallow stone pool completely, regaining his own posture, the slender, sun-browned man says, in sirihish:
"The Lady Templar Oash."The brawny, black-haired man rushes back over to the willowy, tangle-haired girl and envelops her in a tight hug of his huge arms.
The trim, ebon-haired templar has arrived from the east.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the east.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the east.The brawny, black-haired man shouts, in sirihish:
"She done fixed me! I's saved!"The willowy, tangle-haired girl squeaks against the brawny, black-haired man's chest.
The small, red-mopped boy looks up at the trim, ebon-haired templar's entrance and bends at the waist.
Striding in briskly, her tone annoyed, the trim, ebon-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"Militia, start talking."Keeping a calmed, if nozt slightly drained expression, the slender, sun-browned man bows respectfully towards the trim, ebon-haired templar upon her approa.
The splotched, mauve-tousled man turns upon hearing entrance, then snaps a firm salute to the trim, ebon-haired templar.
The brawny, black-haired man looks over at the trim, ebon-haired templar, then back at the willowy, tangle-haired girl, then down to the gem around the willowy, tangle-haired girl's neck.
The brawny, black-haired man releases the willowy, tangle-haired girl quickly and backs away slowly.
You say to the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"We went out to patrol the farming villages, milady. And was ambushed by a horde of drov-beetles the size of giants."Gazing to you sharply, the trim, ebon-haired templar asks you, in sirihish:
"Which village?"You say to the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"Menos, milady."The willowy, tangle-haired girl looks at the brawny, black-haired man with a light frown and sighs, padding over to sit on the floor by herself.
The trim, ebon-haired templar says to you, in sirihish:
"Direction, not some name that means nothing to me."Muttering, the willowy, tangle-haired girl sits down to rest.
The brawny, black-haired man points westward.
His breathing firm and steady, his flesh healed over pink, you say to the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"South of 'nak. In the fields."The small, red-mopped boy shoots a quick glance at the slender, sun-browned man before scrunching his face up thoughtfully.
Grimacing faintly and peering over her shoulder, the trim, ebon-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"Show me at dawn."The slender, sun-browned man dips his head lightly towards the small, red-mopped boy as he twists his lips to one side, thoughtfully.
His face flushing red, his cheek muscles tensing, you ask the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"Show...show you, Lady Templar?"Crossing her arms over her chest, the trim, ebon-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"Yes. Private, you may stay. All others who have no business being in the temple of Vivadu, get out."The brawny, black-haired man glances over at you uneasily.
Immediately, you say to the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"Yes, right away."The brawny, black-haired man bows to the trim, ebon-haired templar and starts to shuffle out, glancing aside at the willowy, tangle-haired girl.
The small, red-mopped boy bows briefly to the trim, ebon-haired templar as he moves towards the street outside.
The slender, sun-browned man folds his arms within the sleeves of his water-hued robes, idly pacing along the edge of a shallow stone pool.
Stepping out quickly, the brawny, black-haired man walks east.
Without looking at her as he passes the willowy, tangle-haired girl, the small, red-mopped boy says, in sirihish:
"Thanks for the water."The small, red-mopped boy walks east.
Annoyedly, muttering to herself, the willowy, tangle-haired girl says, in rinthi-accented sirihish:
"'She done fixed me! I's saved!' Blah blah blah..."The slender, sun-browned man raises his right hand from his chest, snapping his fingers as his lips start to move, glancing back towards the willowy, tangle-haired girl.
Turning to look out to the street, the trim, ebon-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"Vivaduans, at dawn you'll place what protective magicks you can on me, and then Private Harlan if able."The willowy, tangle-haired girl snorts and jerks a hand up, raising a middle finger towards the entrance of the temple.
The willowy, tangle-haired girl quickly looks back to the slender, sun-browned man and hides her hand behind her back.
The splotched, mauve-tousled man peers with distaste at the willowy, tangle-haired girl.
Bowing his head lightly, keeping his gaze downward, the slender, sun-browned man whispers something to the trim, ebon-haired templar.
The trim, ebon-haired templar pinches the bridge of her nose lightly.
The willowy, tangle-haired girl sighs, pulling her knees up to her chest.
The trim, ebon-haired templar asks you, in sirihish:
"Is this village easily within walking distance?"Leaning up against the archway, the trim, ebon-haired templar sits down.
After a moment's thought, you say to the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"It is...but not adviseable, milady."Nodding, the trim, ebon-haired templar says to you, in sirihish:
"Very well. Unless you've two mount tickets on you, go fetch another."Nodding once more and holding out her hand, the trim, ebon-haired templar stands up.
You give a stitched, obsidian-dyed ticket to the trim, ebon-haired templar.
Lowering her voice, the trim, ebon-haired templar asks you, in sirihish:
"Did you see any sign of who summoned them?"Shaking his head, you say to the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"No milady, those black armored beasts just rampaged from across the horizon."Starting to pace away, the trim, ebon-haired templar says to you, in sirihish:
"I see. Just in case, come here."The trim, ebon-haired templar walks west.
You follow the trim, ebon-haired templar, and walk west.Moving up the stairs, not slowing as she nears the thorns, the trim, ebon-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"I don't like crowds."--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Lady Templar Anezka finds an empty room upstairs.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------The trim, ebon-haired templar gazes around, making sure the chamber is empty.
The trim, ebon-haired templar closes the door.
Turning to you, raising her right hand, the trim, ebon-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"A temporary gift from the Highlord."The trim, ebon-haired templar touches your forehead, her finger surrounding itself with greenish light while her lips move silently.
The trim, ebon-haired templar shouts, in sirihish:
"In the name of the Highlord, let my eyes see true foul magicks hidden from me!"The trim, ebon-haired templar utters an incantation.
You feel in tune with the elements.The trim, ebon-haired templar looks at you thoughtfully.
The splotched, mauve-tousled man blinks his eyes, the pupils glowing green.
Keeping her hand in place, the trim, ebon-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"And one more..."The trim, ebon-haired templar shouts, in sirihish:
"In the name of the Highlord, let those hidden by magicks be rendered visible!"The trim, ebon-haired templar utters an incantation.
Your eyes tingle.The splotched, mauve-tousled man jostles, his eyes washing over in another dazzling flash of colors.
Your encumbrance is manageable.
You are:
Recruit of the Allanak Militia Recruits, jobs:
Private / Archer / Soldier / Black Soldier / Clerk / Praetorian Guard of the Arm of the Dragon, jobs:
Relationship to the land is neutral.
You are currently speaking sirihish with a southern accent.
You are affected by:
Detect Invisible, Detect Magick
You are standing.
You are refusing saves (nosave on).
You are not being merciful.Moving back to the door, the trim, ebon-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"If any are attempting to hide with magicks, you shall see them. And I'd suggest you keep this to yourself."The trim, ebon-haired templar opens the door.
His eyes opening and dilating with renewed vigor, you say to the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"An honor milady."The trim, ebon-haired templar nods her head firmly.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
They leave the temple and make their way to the city gates. Concerned with the gravity of the situation, Lady Templar requests further assistance from the Gemmed and an outfit of militia soldiers.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------Outside the Main Gate [NESW]
The two dark towers of Allanak's main gate lie just to the east, soaring
skyward in an apparent attempt to pierce the endless sky above. Their rough
red stones look as if they could stand firm for all eternity, towering over
fifty cords above. The gate itself is a large stone barricade of sorts that
is normally closed only at night. The Outer Circle extends to the north and
to the south from here.
A black steel dragon sits atop the mighty walls, gazing hungrily towards
the western horizon from its place by the towers. A large crowd of Allanaki
citizens--from the filthiest commoner to the most refined noble--gathers at
the wall below the statue, all in various degrees of prostration before the
great beast.
A human soldier of Tektolnes lounges in the shade of the statue here.
A human soldier of Tektolnes walks along here.
A yellow kank stands here, carrying the trim, ebon-haired templar on his back.
The small, red-mopped boy lingers at the edge of the morning crowds.
The slight, dark-skinned man is standing here.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the east.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the east.The figure in a set of hooded, water-hued robes has arrived from the east.
The willowy, tangle-haired girl has arrived from the east.The willowy, tangle-haired girl raises the hood of a hooded, ebony cloak.
The trim, ebon-haired templar falls in behind you.
Nodding, the trim, ebon-haired templar says to you, in sirihish:
"Bring me just beyond sight of it."Riding a yellow kank forward, you say to the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"Menos, milady."The trim, ebon-haired templar unslings a blackened serrated bone warsword from her back.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
They ride in silence through the golden wheat fields of 'nak, before Menos rises into view.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------West of here are Barren Fields.
[Very far]
Nothing.
[Far]
A broad, sprawling farm village lies in the fields here.
[Near]
Nothing.Raising a hand to shield his eyes from the harsh sunrays, you say, in sirihish:
"There it is, Lady Templar."Glancing around, the trim, ebon-haired templar asks you, in sirihish:
"You saw them in front of it?"You say, in sirihish:
"The largest farming village to supply Allanak...Menos."Nodding, you say to the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"Yes, those beetles were around the vicinity."The trim, ebon-haired templar nods, gesturing onward.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
They pull their bleating kanks towards the head of the village, and survey the area.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------The splotched, mauve-tousled man pulls to a halt beside the entrance.
The trim, ebon-haired templar rides up by a broad, sprawling farm village, peering within.
You ask the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"You think a sorceror may be hiding in there?"The trim, ebon-haired templar asks you, in sirihish:
"Doubtful, but possible. It happened right here?"You say to the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"No, I will show you."--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
With Private Harlan at the lead, they traverse across the desert of the Vrun Driath, the unrelenting glare of Suk-krath beating on their backs.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------The splotched, mauve-tousled man glances around warily, hands gripping the reins tightly.
The trim, ebon-haired templar says to you, in sirihish:
"Try bringing us in at an angle."The splotched, mauve-tousled man nods silently to the trim, ebon-haired templar.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Some time passes, and they are still riding quietly across the desert.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------The trim, ebon-haired templar asks, in sirihish:
"How much farther?"Shaking his head with disbelief, you say, in sirihish:
"Krath...it's moved across the entire desert..."To the north is Dusty Plains.
[Very far]
Nothing.
[Far]
A huge black beetle crawls around the desert floor.
[Near]
Nothing.A tremor in his voice, you say to the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"There, milady...that cursed beast."Gesturing lightly, the trim, ebon-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"With me now."You now follow the trim, ebon-haired templar.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
They circle around the beetle, dismount, and draw their weapons. The battle ensues...
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------A human Allanaki soldier slashes a large black beetle's neck, inflicting a grievous wound.
The splotched, mauve-tousled man pants heavily, stepping back as the massive beetle crashes to the ground.
The trim, ebon-haired templar gazes down at the body of a large black beetle expectantly, then climbs onto her kank, tucking a sword away.
Worried, you ask the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"Will it explode now, milady?"Riding off to the north, the trim, ebon-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"A regular beetle."--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
They continue their trek through the desert, an air of suspicion rising about the Lady Templar.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------Raising her eyebrows, the trim, ebon-haired templar asks you, in sirihish:
"What gave you the idea they were summoned magickally?"You say to the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"You said they were summoned, Lady Templar."The trim, ebon-haired templar asks you, in sirihish:
"When did I say such a thing?"You say to the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"When I told you we nearly died, Lady Templar..."Glancing behind his back, you ask the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"It won't come back to life and chase us, will it?"Sighing, the trim, ebon-haired templar asks you, in sirihish:
"Private...those beetles are common to this area. You and the recruit had mentioned the beetles were summoned by Drov, did you not?"You say to the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"It was...eating us alive... I...saved..."--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
At a further loss for words, Private Harlan rides on with the Lady Templar back to 'nak.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------Outside the Main Gate [NESW]
The two dark towers of Allanak's main gate lie just to the east, soaring
skyward in an apparent attempt to pierce the endless sky above. Their rough
red stones look as if they could stand firm for all eternity, towering over
fifty cords above. The gate itself is a large stone barricade of sorts that
is normally closed only at night. The Outer Circle extends to the north and
to the south from here.
A black steel dragon sits atop the mighty walls, gazing hungrily towards
the western horizon from its place by the towers. A large crowd of Allanaki
citizens--from the filthiest commoner to the most refined noble--gathers at
the wall below the statue, all in various degrees of prostration before the
great beast.
A half-giant soldier of Tektolnes stands here impassively.
A half-giant soldier of Tektolnes walks along here.
A human soldier of Tektolnes lounges in the shade of the statue here.
A human soldier of Tektolnes walks along here.
A yellow kank stands here, carrying the trim, ebon-haired templar on his back.
The willowy, tangle-haired girl is standing here.
The figure in a set of hooded, water-hued robes is standing here.
The brawny, black-haired man is standing here.The brawny, black-haired man bows to the trim, ebon-haired templar as the large group approaches.
Looking back, tucking her sword away, the trim, ebon-haired templar asks you, in sirihish:
"Where there five, Private? Or just two?"Similiarly, the figure in a set of hooded, water-hued robes bows respectfully towards the trim, ebon-haired templar, before slowly straightening his form.
You say to the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"I saw two, milady."The figure in a set of hooded, water-hued robes blinks several times, glancing over towards the brawny, black-haired man, then back towards you.
The trim, ebon-haired templar frowns and rides up closer to you, solidly thumping the flat of her blackened serrated bone warsword against your head.
The willowy, tangle-haired girl attempts an awkward bow toward the trim, ebon-haired templar.
The splotched, mauve-tousled man grunts, the heavy bone crashing against his skull.
Turning to the gates, scowling, the trim, ebon-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"Gemmed...you won't be needed. You two, come to the recruit barracks."The trim, ebon-haired templar touches her hand against her medallion of Tektolnes before riding on.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
They head to the barracks.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------A Small Training Yard [S]
This dusty square yard is enclosed by sturdy-looking stone walls topped
with shards of broken glass. The walls appear to be either fairly new or
relatively well maintained, though they bear a number of rough scuff marks
and scratches. The ground is hard-packed and fairly flat, allowing the dust
to tell its tale of combats fought here. To the north, a wooden weapons
rack is set along the wall, and to the south, a small wooden gate opens up
into a courtyard.
A shadow falls over the area, driving off the uncomfortable heat.
A bench, made of worn grey stone, sits against a wall.
The trim, ebon-haired templar is standing here.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the south.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the south.The brawny, black-haired man has arrived from the south.
The brawny, black-haired man hurries in on the double and bows to the trim, ebon-haired templar.
Striding into the middle of a clearing, the trim, ebon-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"Both of you, remove your dustcloaks, backpacks, any weapons hung on your back, and chest protection."The splotched, mauve-tousled man heaves a breath before immediately acquiescing.
The brawny, black-haired man swallows as he starts unstrapping his gear.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Uneasily, they begin stripping off their clothes, shaking on their knees in fear.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------Crossing her arms over her chest, the trim, ebon-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"And while you do that, explain how the fuck five beetles summoned from Drov itself turned out to be two beetles commonly found in the area."His voice hoarse, the brawny, black-haired man says to the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"Well... er... y'see... Lady Templar.. er... we was..."As he strips off his clothes, his torso bared against the sun, you say to the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"We both nearly died, milady. We ran like the wind when it hit us only twice, trying to eat us."The trim, ebon-haired templar slips her hand into her oversized black backpack, pulling out a coiled length of leather.
Clearing his throat, the brawny, black-haired man says, in sirihish:
".. uh... tryin'... not t' make His Militia look bad... t' them gemmers 'n that kid."The trim, ebon-haired templar gets a wickedly barbed whip from an oversized black backpack.
Nodding enthusiastically to you, the brawny, black-haired man exclaims to the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"It sure were real vicious!"You say to the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"Lady Templar, the entire unit was given ten lashes just a few days ago..."The splotched, mauve-tousled man gazes down at the ground, the fresh wounds upon his back pink under the sun.
Letting the barbed tips of her whip drop, the trim, ebon-haired templar says to you, in sirihish:
"I know, Private."The trim, ebon-haired templar brandishes a wickedly barbed whip.
The splotched, mauve-tousled man kneels to the ground as if automatically, head bowed into the dust.
Head bowed, kneeling low in the ground, back bared, you say, in sirihish:
"Lord Templar Vaedon says pain will cleanse the mind. Do what you must, my lady."The trim, ebon-haired templar walks behind the brawny, black-haired man, then suddenly cracks her wickedly barbed whip, opening a wide gash on his back.
The trim, ebon-haired woman raises a wickedly barbed whip and lashes out at the brawny, black-haired man.
*CRACK* A long, bloody gash opens up on the brawny, black-haired man's back.Falling to his knees and letting out a cry through clenched teeth, the brawny, black-haired man sits down.
The trim, ebon-haired templar brings her bloodied wickedly barbed whip down again, the spurs lodging themselves into the brawny, black-haired man's flesh before she tears them out with another flick of her wrist.
The trim, ebon-haired woman raises a wickedly barbed whip and lashes out at the brawny, black-haired man.
*CRACK* A long, bloody gash opens up on the brawny, black-haired man's back.The brawny, black-haired man cries out both as the whip hits and as it pulls away, his hands grabbing at the hard, dusty ground.
The splotched, mauve-tousled man does not bear to glance up, his head lowered as it stares into the ground, awaiting.
The trim, ebon-haired templar snaps her bloodied wickedly barbed whip one last time, each of its nine barbed braids slicing through the brawny, black-haired man.
The trim, ebon-haired woman raises a wickedly barbed whip and lashes out at the brawny, black-haired man.
*CRACK* A long, bloody gash opens up on the brawny, black-haired man's back.The trim, ebon-haired templar looks down at the brawny, black-haired man as she moves to stand by you.
Blood streaks down the brawny, black-haired man's back as he bites down into the leather sleeves on his arms, his back shaking.
The splotched, mauve-tousled man steadies his breathing, unperturbed by the brawny, black-haired man's cries of agony.
Looking over your back, searching for the deepest lash before opening a fresh one over it, the trim, ebon-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"Pride is one thing, lying about it to your superior is another."The trim, ebon-haired woman raises a wickedly barbed whip and lashes out at you.
*CRACK* Fiery pain dizzies you as the blow savages your back.The splotched, mauve-tousled man lifts a fist and bites down on it, reallocating the pain searing across his bare back.
The trim, ebon-haired templar lifts her right boot, stomping the heel against the fresh cut on you.
Hot tears streaming down his cheeks, you say to the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"That moment, Lady Templar...they were truly monster beetles....no pride, no pride, my lady."Cracking her bloodied wickedly barbed whip again, ripping through your flesh, the trim, ebon-haired templar shouts, in sirihish:
"They're bugs!"The trim, ebon-haired woman raises a wickedly barbed whip and lashes out at you.
*CRACK* Fiery pain dizzies you as the blow savages your back.The splotched, mauve-tousled man digs his nails into the dusty ground, firmly gripping it in pain.
With a final sharp snap of her wrist, the trim, ebon-haired templar opens up a long gash crossing over your shoulder blades.
The trim, ebon-haired woman raises a wickedly barbed whip and lashes out at you.
*CRACK* Fiery pain dizzies you as the blow savages your back.Spittle flies from the splotched, mauve-tousled man's mouth as he cries in pain.
First kicking you down to the ground, then doing the same to the brawny, black-haired man, the trim, ebon-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"Serve well as you had on the patrol, and you'll be rewarded well..."The splotched, mauve-tousled man shivers in his own bloody mess, the lacerations in his back reopened and pulsating, spewing blood with each heartbeat.
Sending the tip of her bloodied wickedly barbed whip into the air with a loud *CRACK*, flinging off bits of blood and flesh, the trim, ebon-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"Fuck up so bad and lie about it, and I'll make you wish you were dead long before I grant that mercy."The trim, ebon-haired templar quickly wipes the blood off of a bloodied wickedly barbed whip.
The brawny, black-haired man swallows and nods, managing to look up, his eyes bleary.
Lying prostrate before the trim, ebon-haired templar, struggling to speak, you say to the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"Merciful, milady. You are merciful. We thank you...thank you..."Looking between you and the brawny, black-haired man and coiling her whip back up, the trim, ebon-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"Neither of you are allowed to go on patrols outside the city without an officer or higher. And you'll not get these wounds healed by the Vivaduans."Weakly, the brawny, black-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Yes milady.... merciful... no patrollin'..."Barely able to nod his head, you say to the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"Understood, Lady Templar...each cut across my back serves as a lesson, milady."While tucking her wickedly barbed whip away, turning, the trim, ebon-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"There's hope for both of you. Don't fuck it up by being stupid."The splotched, mauve-tousled man lies flat in a red pool of blood then scrambles to his knees as he hurries to scoop of bits of his own flesh littering the ground.
The brawny, black-haired man nods to the trim, ebon-haired templar weakly once again, grabbing up his discarded armor and duster.
A Roomy Barracks [NEW]
The thickness of the dull red mud bricks of which this barracks has
been built provides it with a coolness which resists the worst of the
Zalanthan sun. The furnishings are simple: neatly ordered cots sit in rows,
a few with footlockers built into one end, while a large weapons rack hangs
on the wall underneath a wooden frieze depicting the desert, gith, jozhals
and scrabs moving through the dunes. Below the frieze, extending down the
walls and covering the floor, are ceramic tiles composed of all the hues of
the desert: vermilion, bronze, amber, rust, tawny yellow, and ochre. The
tiles are laid in an abstract, undulating pattern reminiscent of rolling
dunes.
A simple wooden chest sits here on the floor.
A cracked stone storage bin, nearly falling apart, has been put here.The brawny, black-haired man has arrived from the west, dragging himself in.
The splotched, mauve-tousled man stumbles to the floor.
Falling face-forward, the brawny, black-haired man rests on a small leather cot.
Falling on his rear, you sit down.
The splotched, mauve-tousled man quickly tosses his armors back on, his wounds drying and hard.
The brawny, black-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Well shit.... we done fucked that up..."Glancing up at a small leather cot weakly, you say to the brawny, black-haired man, in sirihish:
"That was something."You say to the brawny, black-haired man, in sirihish:
"Fortunate she spared us with a lashing, s'all."Grunting, the brawny, black-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Yah-huh."You say to the brawny, black-haired man, in sirihish:
"Don't ever say the words "drov" or "five" or...never again."The brawny, black-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Or... beetle."Nodding meakly, you say to the brawny, black-haired man, in sirihish:
"Beetle. Don't say beetle."Muttering, you ask, in sirihish:
"Shit..how're we going to redeem ourselves?"The brawny, black-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Uh... not fuck up again... 'n... uh...... shit.... I jus' wanna sleep."Falling asleep on the ground where he lays, you say, in sirihish:
"Beetles...whippings...I've had enough..."--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
And that concludes our story, kids. Hope you enjoyed it. We certainly did. ;)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------*****From the perspective of the splotched, mauve-tousled man******
You pass beneath the shadow of the black dragon.
Inside the Main Gate [NESW]
The main gate of the city-state of Allanak towers high here, its
twin obsidian towers separating the life-threatening perils of the
desert from the...
Continue Reading...Lunette Sees Again by Laurajlmars
Added on May 5, 2007After a hard ride through the desert, a motley pair of assassins-turned-kidnappers stops for the night in a cave north of Luirs, where their blinded and helpless charge regains her sight.
This is one part of the long, exciting story of Yellow Belly and Door, unlikely partners who were forced to flee Allanak after committing various acts of terrorism, murder, and other entertaining crime. This part of the adventure takes place during a hastily planned "kidnapping" of a Borsail aide named Lunette (one of Yellow Belly's old contacts) from the streets of Red Storm. Thanks to a temporary agreement Door forged with a Drovian, Lunette has been blind since they left the shores of the silt sea. After a riding hard through the Red Desert, the crew has stopped for the night in a cave just north of Luirs.
Cast of characters -
The short and thick figure in a dusty ankle-length white djellabah - Yellow Belly
The figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba - Lunette
The figure in a dusty flowing cloak of layered, black sandcloth - Door
=============================
It is dusk on Cingel, the 191st day of the Low Sun,
In the Year of Vivadu's Anger, year 29 of the 21st Age.
The area is filled with a green light.
A Narrow Cave [SW Quit]
You are within the confines of the massive mountain of rock known as
the Shield Wall. Here the rock does not appear very weathered, as
the harsh winds and blowing sands of the Red Desert do not easily
enter this cave. Markings of old campfires litter the ground, indicating
that more than one traveller has spent the night within this natural
shelter.
To the west and south the cave opens slightly, preparing to return
to the harsh desert sands.
The short and thick figure in a dusty ankle-length white djellabah has arrived from the west, riding a grey kank.
The figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba has arrived from the west, riding a yellow kank.
You drop a glowing green glow-crystal. Shown to the room as:
A glowing green crystal is lying here.
The short and thick figure in a dusty ankle-length white djellabah swings his legs over and jumps off of a grey kank.
A grey kank curls up on the ground.
You swing your legs over and jump off of a grey kank.
A grey kank curls up on the ground.
The short and thick figure in a dusty ankle-length white djellabah gets a leather-strapped green glow-crystal from a dusty ankle-length white djellabah.
The creak of leathers announces the figure in a dusty flowing cloak of layered, black sandcloth's departure from the saddle.
You say to the figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba, in sirihish:
"You can get down now."
You draw a dusty darkly stained bone scimitar with a carved hilt.
You draw a dusty darkly stained bone scimitar with a carved hilt.
A ropelike bundle of a myriad braids in hues ranging from cobalt to azure
slithers down the back of this girl to end above the subtly curving small of
her back, each braid secured with a different colored bit of cloth. Barely
beginning adolescence, her body is a model of youthful vigor; slinky, sleek,
and androgynous. Slanted feline eyes which match the shade of her hair sit
on either side of an aquiline but slightly crooked nose which promises to
hook later in life, the full mouth which lies below bearing a dimple in one
corner. Thin, dark brows swoop with an upward flick above the
aforementioned eyes, bestowing an expression a bit more sly than is probably
desired. Deep tanned skin seems wind-burnished to an even bronze even at
this obviously youthful age. Her legs are long and lanky, at least for a
stature so diminutive, and they carry her with lazy ease that hints at speed
now and possible stature, later on.
The figure in a dusty flowing cloak of layered, black sandcloth is in excellent condition.
<worn on head> a dusty leather and jet-colored chitin coif
<worn in left ear> a dusty ruby red glass earring
<worn in right ear> a dusty spiraling topaz earring
<worn around neck> a dusty snake-skin neckguard
<worn about throat> a dusty polished moonstone choker
<slung across back> a dusty duskhorn recurve bow
<worn on arms> a pair of red sandcloth sleeves
<worn around wrist> a stained small leather pouch
<primary hand> a dusty darkly stained bone scimitar with a carved hilt
<secondary hand> a dusty darkly stained bone scimitar with a carved hilt
<worn on left finger> a dusty small bone thimble
<worn around body> a dusty flowing cloak of layered, black sandcloth
<worn on legs> a leather-reinforced sandcloth skirt
<worn on right ankle> a strand of bright glass beads
<worn on feet> a dusty pair of knee-high fringed moccasins
The short and thick figure in a dusty ankle-length white djellabah lights a leather-strapped green glow-crystal.
The short and thick figure in a dusty ankle-length white djellabah straps a shining leather-strapped green glow-crystal onto his ankle.
The short and thick figure in a dusty ankle-length white djellabah draws a bloodied broad-bladed bone shortsword.
The figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba tilts her head at the sound of voice.
The short and thick figure in a dusty ankle-length white djellabah says, in sirihish:
"Ah beh checkin' 'round deh place."
The figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba presses her hands on the animal, and slowly, oh slowly, slides down from the mount.
The figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba swings her legs to the side and dismounts.
The figure in a dusty flowing cloak of layered, black sandcloth inclines her head to the short and thick figure in a dusty ankle-length white djellabah, lashing a grey kank's reigns around her fist.
The short and thick figure in a dusty ankle-length white djellabah says to the figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba, in sirihish:
"Yeh let us know if yeh git yeh sight back."
The short and thick figure in a dusty ankle-length white djellabah says to the figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba, in sirihish:
"Yeh beh far 'nuff where yeh ain't able tah git back."
You say to the figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba, in sirihish:
"Tell your animal to sit down, if you can."
The figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba presses her back against her mount, as if unwilling to venture even a step away from the one certainty.
The figure in a dusty flowing cloak of layered, black sandcloth sighs, moves forward, and grasps the figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba's hand in her own, wrapping them around the reigns of a yellow kank.
You begin leading a yellow kank.
A yellow kank falls in behind you.
You pull on a yellow kank's reins.
A yellow kank curls up on the ground.
The short and thick figure in a dusty ankle-length white djellabah says to the figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba, in sirihish:
"Yeh ain't got tah worry 'bout it."
The short and thick figure in a dusty ankle-length white djellabah says, in sirihish:
"Ah beh back."
A Narrow Cave [SW Quit]
You are within the confines of the massive mountain of rock known as
the Shield Wall. Here the rock does not appear very weathered, as
the harsh winds and blowing sands of the Red Desert do not easily
enter this cave. Markings of old campfires litter the ground, indicating
that more than one traveller has spent the night within this natural
shelter.
To the west and south the cave opens slightly, preparing to return
to the harsh desert sands.
A glowing green crystal is lying here.
A yellow kank is reclining here, looking tired.
The figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba is standing here.
A grey kank is reclining here, looking tired.
A grey kank is reclining here, looking tired.
Tone suggestive, you ask the figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba, in sirihish:
"Why not sit down?"
The figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba instinctively shies away from the touch, with one hand still on the animal, she lowers herself carefully to the ground.
The figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba sits down.
The scrape of a stone against bone suggests that the figure in a dusty flowing cloak of layered, black sandcloth is sharpening one of her long, curved blades, leaning against the cave wall.
The figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba bites her lower lip.
Your new ldesc is:
The figure in a dusty flowing cloak of layered, black sandcloth leans against one wall, sharpening a scimitar.
You sheathe a dusty darkly stained bone scimitar with a carved hilt.
You say to the figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba, in sirihish:
"So."
The figure in a dusty flowing cloak of layered, black sandcloth's word falls into the dusky silence, broken only by the steady, rough grating of her sharpening instrument against the scimitar.
The figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba blinks rapidly, then covers her eyes from the bright light.
With her mouth slightly ajar, the figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba stares at the cave.
Hanging her head sideways slightly, peeking into her hood, you ask the figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba, in sirihish:
"Can you see?"
The figure in a dusty flowing cloak of layered, black sandcloth leans forward and snaps her fingers in front of the figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba's face experimentally.
The figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba's long lashes flutters at your movement.
The figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba wets her dry lips and nods.
The figure in a dusty flowing cloak of layered, black sandcloth draws her hand back to her side.
Brightly, you say to the figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba, in sirihish:
"Well, great."
The figure in a dusty flowing cloak of layered, black sandcloth gives her lithe body a vigorous shake, trails of sand fissing from the folds of her garments to pool on the ground around her.
You start cleaning.
You dust yourself off.
The figure in a flowing cloak of layered, black sandcloth rubs her blades clean, flakes of dried blood fluttering off the edges to fall to the ground atop the pile of sand.
You start cleaning.
You quickly wipe the blood off of a bloodied darkly stained bone scimitar with a carved hilt.
You start cleaning.
You quickly wipe the blood off of a bloodied darkly stained bone scimitar with a carved hilt.
The figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba pushes herself tightly against the rough stone wall as she stares at you.
Leaning against the opposite wall and meeting her stare from within the shadows of her hood, you ask the figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba, in sirihish:
"Look, if we wanted to kill you, we wouldn't have gone through all that trouble. You think I like dragging blind girls through the desert?"
Grim tone banished with a beaming smile, you say to the figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba, in sirihish:
"You'll thank us later."
A yellow kank leisurely waves its antennae about.
Scratching the top of a grey kank's chitinous head with the tip of your darkly stained bone scimitar with a carved hilt, you say to the figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba, in sirihish:
"Ok, fine, we don't have to talk."
A grey kank leisurely waves its antennae about.
You think:
"Wow, she hates me."
Feeling a shimmer of teenage resentment, you think:
"But this is for Yellow Belly...I don't have to like her either."
The figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba draws her knees up and drapes her arms around herself, hiding her face from the green gleam of the crystal.
The figure in a flowing cloak of layered, black sandcloth begins to drum her fingers against the cave wall, your small bone thimble beating a faint but relentless tattoo against the rough stone.
Your new ldesc is:
The figure in a flowing cloak of layered, black sandcloth leans against the cave wall, blades drawn.
A grey kank makes a bleating noise and moves its head from side to side.
Pursing her full lips as she leans against the wall, the figure in a flowing cloak of layered, black sandcloth begins to whistle an eerie and childlike little tune, the sound magnified by the echoing cave.
The figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba makes a little sound deep in her throat.
The figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba lifts her head to peer at you, lucent, gold rims of her eyes dimmed by a flood of tears.
Stopping her whistling abruptly, the sound dying away in the cave beneath the ambient movements of the kanks, you ask the figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba, in sirihish:
"Oh, sorry, did you say something?"
You are Door.
Keywords: slinky blue-braided girl human Jailbait
Sdesc: the slinky, blue-braided girl
Objective: Get to Tuluk alive.
Long Description:
The figure in a flowing cloak of layered, black sandcloth leans against the cave wall, blades drawn.
You are 14 years, 2 months, and 214 days old,
which by your race and appearance is young.
You are 62 inches tall, and weigh 6 ten-stone.
Your strength is average, your agility is exceptional,
your wisdom is extremely good, and your endurance is below average.
You are a little hungry and a little thirsty.
Your health is 93(93), you have 131(135) stamina, and 95(95) stun.
You have been playing for 10 days and 15 hours.
You are standing.
You are currently speaking sirihish with a southern accent.
The figure in a flowing cloak of layered, black sandcloth reaches out a moccasined toe to roll a glowing green glow-crystal idly back and forth across the stony ground.
The figure in a flowing cloak of layered, black sandcloth resumes her whistling, the shadows outside the cave deepening as day turns to night.
The figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba's eyes has now dimmed to a dark purple, but the gold and copper in them are still burning with resentment and desolation, and lastly, the pains of betrayal.
The figure in a flowing cloak of layered, black sandcloth rolls her eyes.
You think:
"Oh gimme a break!"
You think:
"So we took her away from her home...and city...and everything she's ever known...without asking. It's not like we were mean about it."
You think:
"And we had good intentions. Mostly good. Stupid Allanak, anyway."
The figure in a flowing cloak of layered, black sandcloth covers a yawn with the flat of one scimitar, eyelids drooping sleepily over an azure gaze before snapping alertly back up.
Fishing your travel cake out of her pocket and holding it up between thumb and forefinger, you ask the figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba, in sirihish:
"Hungry?"
As if tireless, the figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba watches your every moment, fueled by a sandstorm of feelings more wild than the weather outside.
The figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba looks at the cake in your hand, then licks her lips.
The figure in a flowing cloak of layered, black sandcloth's full lips part in a slantwise grin, and she tosses your travel cake into the figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba's skirted lap.
The morsel landing with a thump in her lap, you give your travel cake to the figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba.
The cake crumbles in her hand as the figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba picks it up. But she pays it no more mind than the dusts that have claimed almost every surface of her attire. Her eyes never wavering from you, she takes an almost savage bite.
The figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba eats a portion of her travel cake.
The figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba coughs softly at the dryness, but forces herself to swallow.
Tightening the worn leather straps of your dujat-shell breastplate, you say to the figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba, in sirihish:
"We're out of water. But we'll leave come morning, we're not far from Tuluk."
The figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba stares at you with wide eyed horror.
With a pearly smile catching the light of a glowing green glow-crystal, you exclaim to the figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba, in sirihish:
"Plenty of water there!"
Far from being comforted, the figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba almost choked on her cake at your words.
Stepping out from behind a grey kank, the short and thick figure in a dusty ankle-length white djellabah says, in sirihish:
"'Ell ain't nothin' comin' 'dis way from deh south."
Looking down at the figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba, the short and thick figure in a dusty ankle-length white djellabah asks, in sirihish:
"Yeh know if Miss Lunette beh gettin' 'er sight back?"
Crouching down on her toes to find her level and make eye contact with her, glancing sidelong at the short and thick figure in a dusty ankle-length white djellabah, you say to the figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba, in sirihish:
"Oh, relax. Like you wouldn't have been executed if we hadn't stepped in."
Pushing back up from the floor, you say to the short and thick figure in a dusty ankle-length white djellabah, in sirihish:
"She can see. Not talking much though."
As if in response, the figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba looks at the short and thick figure in a dusty ankle-length white djellabah with a glare that could scorch a desert.
Looking down at the figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba with a hearty laugh, the short and thick figure in a dusty ankle-length white djellabah asks, in sirihish:
"'Ell good! Yeh kin see 'gain. Woulda been worse if yeh beh blind fer deh rest 'o yeh life, eh?"
It is before dawn on Nekrete, the 192nd day of the Low Sun,
In the Year of Vivadu's Anger, year 29 of the 21st Age.
The figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba eats her small portion of a travel cake.
As she moves amongst the animals, checking straps and saddles, you say to the short and thick figure in a dusty ankle-length white djellabah, in sirihish:
"It's almost morning. We should head out soon."
The short and thick figure in a dusty ankle-length white djellabah nods at you.
The short and thick figure in a dusty ankle-length white djellabah says to the figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba, in sirihish:
"'Ell, Lunette. Yeh git yeh sight back fer deh prettiest part 'o deh journey."
The short and thick figure in a dusty ankle-length white djellabah says to the figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba, in sirihish:
"Gonna beh seein' more trees 'n flowers 'n yeh e'er seen 'fore."
The figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba works on the last bit of her cake and swallows.
The figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba stands up.
A yellow kank leisurely waves its antennae about.
You stop leading a yellow kank.
The figure in a flowing cloak of layered, black sandcloth tosses the reigns of a yellow kank to the figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba, where they land by her feet.
The short and thick figure in a dusty ankle-length white djellabah begins leading a grey kank.
Swinging herself deftly into the saddle atop a grey kank, you say to the figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba, in sirihish:
"Well, get on up then, Miss Aide."
The figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba accepts the reins with a sullen silence, and stares at the poor kank as if it is the fault of her current situation.
The figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba jumps up onto a yellow kank's back.
A yellow kank rises from the ground, and clambers to his feet.
The short and thick figure in a dusty ankle-length white djellabah extinguishes a glowing green glow-crystal.
The short and thick figure in a dusty ankle-length white djellabah picks up a green glow-crystal.
The figure in a flowing cloak of layered, black sandcloth holds out her hand for the crystal.
The short and thick figure in a dusty ankle-length white djellabah tosses the crystal to you before he crawls up the side of his kank.
The short and thick figure in a dusty ankle-length white djellabah gives you his green glow-crystal.
As your green glow-crystal snaps neatly into the palm of her hand, you say to the short and thick figure in a dusty ankle-length white djellabah, in sirihish:
"Thank you, Yellow Belly."
The short and thick figure in a dusty ankle-length white djellabah jumps up onto a grey kank's back.
A grey kank rises from the ground, and clambers to his feet.
The short and thick figure in a dusty ankle-length white djellabah falls in behind you.
The short and thick figure in a dusty ankle-length white djellabah sheathes a bloodied broad-bladed bone shortsword.
The figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba falls in behind you.
Making sure of the fit of your small bone thimble on her finger, gripping the saddle of her mount between her knees, and leading the group for the cave's narrow exit, you say, in sirihish:
"Off we trot, then. Almost home."
=============================
Since the pair was already wanted in Allanak by the templarate, they later tried to trade Lunette back to the black city, in an attempt to remove the bounty from Yellow Belly's head - with disastrous results. But that's another story.
This is one part of the long, exciting story of Yellow Belly and Door, unlikely partners who were forced to flee Allanak after committing various acts of terrorism, murder, and other entertaining crime. This part of the adventure takes place during a hastily planned "kidnapping" of a Borsail...
Continue Reading...Mercenaries by FiveDisgruntledMonkeysWit
Added on May 1, 2007When is a mercenary not a mercenary? When he works for Kurac, apparently.
A young man in dire need of food and 'sid makes his way to Luir's Outpost, following rumors of military work to be had with House Kurac. Unfortunately, he's not the brightest fellow...
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish, watching you:
"So yer name's Rilath. What brings ya ta lookin fer work here wit Kurac?"
>Feeling glum, you think:
"Desperation."
>At your table, you say in sirihish, with a shrug:
"I've been in a bad way recently, needing work. And I heard you were hiring. Simple as that."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish, taking a deep breath:
"Well. Workin fer Kurac ain't just some job. We dont hire hunters, we don't hire mercs."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish:
"We hire soldiers fer th'army what's called th'Fist."
>At your table, you say in sirihish, lifting a brow:
"You don't hire mercenaries? Most everyone's been telling me you do..."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish, shaking her head:
"Most everyone been tellin ya wrong."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish:
"Merc is a rank in our units."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish:
"Mercenary is what ya kin be, after yer promoted from bein a Recruit."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish:
"But it ain't like a Byn merc, cause yer expected ta still do yer chores, and be available while yer on contract wit us."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish:
"Also when yer a Kuraci Mercenary yer allowed ta ride on yer own on yer days off."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish, to you, sternly:
"But while yer a recruit, that's yer first two months. And durin that gime, ya ain't allowed ta leave th'Post without a officer takin ya."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish:
"Except ta git t'the
>At your table, you say in sirihish, blinking:
"So what makes the mercenaries not mercenaries?"
>At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish, watching your expression as she continues:
"Cause a mercenary's a sellsword, who takes contracts fer jobs from outsiders who pay'em ta do whatver th'sids pay fer."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish:
"A Kuraci Mercenary don't take outside jobs. They work fer Kurac, and Kurac don't take outside jobs. We work fer th'House."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish:
"Military Operations pays us, not some noble or templar or grebber lookin fer escort."
>At your table, you say in sirihish:
"Can Kurac mercenaries ever leave Kurac?"
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish, inclining her head:
"Sure, long as they git permission. We've had a couple do that. Ya kin also be a merc short-term, and come back if ya left on good accountin wit us."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish:
"Merc's just a halfway mark ta movin up in th'ranks though, yer still just a tick away from bein a grebber if yer a Merc wit us."
>You think:
"Krath, this woman's an idiot."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish, to you:
"If it turns out yer doin good, showin innerest, helpin out, stayin busy, not bein a pest, we offer ya a life-oath ta promote ta Regular."
>You think:
"What makes a Kuraci mercenary not a mercenary? Sounds like a feckin' mercenary to me..."
>At your table, you say in sirihish, scratching his cheek:
"Okay, I think I'm starting to understand."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish, glancing at you:
"How's that sound so far? Ah'm more innerested in how ya feel about bein stuck in th'Post fer two months, cept when a officer takes ya out fer field trainin or patrol."
>At your table, you say in sirihish, tapping the table a few times:
"In order to merc for Kurac, you first have to go through a training period. Then you're a mercenary."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish:
"If it don't suit ya, or ya think ya kin't handle that, we kin end th'innerview and yer welcome ta hang out, do business, trade, buy yerself some firebreather, that kinda shit."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish:
"If ya pass th'trainin period, yeah."
>At your table, you say in sirihish, chuckling and shaking his head:
"You seem to be saying that a Kuraci mercenary is somehow not a mercenary... but, ah, alright, I'm not arguing with you on that..."
>At your table, you say in sirihish, scratching his brow:
"Fact of the matter is, I spent my last 'sid getting down here. I need work."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish, chuckling back at you:
"It ain't. Th'Byn, they're a Mercenary outfit. They take jobs from whoever pays'em ta do a job. Escort duty, helpin this or that Templar do this or that thing.."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish:
"And whoever they're escortin, or the templar, they're th'ones what pay the Byn unit."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish:
"When yer a Mercenary fer th'Kuraci Fist, yer not gonna be takin jobs fer people what ain't wit Kurac."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish:
"We escort Kuracis. We do this or that or the other thing fer Kuracis. And we git paid salary, plus bonuses, from Kurac. Not from no one else."
>At your table, you say in sirihish, leaning forward:
"I know, but... listen. If a merc takes a job with, say, Salaar, then he's working with Salaar -for the time being-."
>At your table, you say in sirihish:
"Isn't it the same way with Kurac?"
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish, shrugging:
"Ah din't know Salarr hired mercs."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish:
"But If they do, they don't spend two months trainin'em. The merc works fer hisself."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish:
"If yer a Merc wit Kurac, ya ain't workin fer yerself. Yer employed by Kurac."
>At your table, you say in sirihish, scratching his head:
"Yeah... and a merc who takes a job with the Templarate is working for the Templarate. And a merc who takes a job with Nenyuk is working for Nenyuk."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish:
"And ya kin't just ride off any time ya like, go wherever ya like, do whatever ya like, and not worry about gittin yer pay from us."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish:
"Ya gotta do afternoon chores, ya gotta come on patrol when we're goin on patrol, gotta run escort wit us, and ya don't leave th'Post if ya ain't got a day off on th'schedule."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish:
"Ya still stick wit th'schedule, and yer days off are th'days off we tell ya they is."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish, grumbling:
"Ya know, ya ain't answered ma first question, and yer hemmin and hawin over a fuckin word."
>At your table, you say in sirihish, some amusement creeping over his features:
"I'm just trying to figure out what makes Kurac mercs so special."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish:
"Ah'm thinkin..if ya kin't figger it out, maybe ya ain't right fer us. Look fer one o'the Salarris, see if they're innerested in hirin a independant. We ain't."
>
The slender, crooked-nosed woman stands up from a small table near the stairs.
>
The slender, crooked-nosed woman grumbles and moves back to a long, carved wooden bar, shaking her head.
>
The slender, crooked-nosed woman sits at a long, carved wooden bar.
>You think:
"Ah... feck..."
A young man in dire need of food and 'sid makes his way to Luir's Outpost, following rumors of military work to be had with House Kurac. Unfortunately, he's not the brightest fellow...
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish, watching you:
"So yer name's...
Continue Reading...The Girl from Fel Karran by Laura Mars
Added on Apr 28, 2007Character portrait of a vivaduan named Tanaqui.
Amos Kanked A Gemmer by Markie
Added on Apr 20, 2007Bad things happen when you kank a gemmer on a bet!
Amos kanked a gemmer
on a twenty five sid bet
he woke up with no pecker
how stupid can you get?
Amos kanked a gemmer
he thought she'd be a blast
but when it was all over
he ran away real fast
Amos kanked a gemmer
but finished way too soon
and now without his pecker
he sings a different tune
So never kank a gemmer
in some uncaring whirl
cuz if you kank a gemmer
you just might wake up a girl!
Amos kanked a gemmer
on a twenty five sid bet
he woke up with no pecker
how stupid can you get?
Amos kanked a gemmer
he thought she'd be a blast
but when it was all over
he ran away real fast
Amos kanked a gemmer
but finished way too soon
and now without his pecker
he sings a...
Continue Reading...Tribal Guardian by Grey Area
Added on Apr 20, 2007Jeq, a young warrior from a human tribe of the tablelands. Standing watch with an obsidian longsword over one shoulder, he puffs contentedly on a bartered tube of spice.
Everyone Loves a Stone Mage by Ourla
Added on Apr 20, 2007Dedicated to Sanvean.
Where do babies come from by Satine
Added on Apr 5, 2007rinth girl finds out about babies.
You think:
"where do babies come from?"At your table, the tall figure in a tattered, brown hooded cloak says in sirihish, rolling her eyes:
"Fine. Come on."The tall figure in a tattered, brown hooded cloak stands up from a sturdy old bar.
stand
You stand up from a sturdy old bar.follow brown
You now follow the tall figure in a tattered, brown hooded cloak.The tall figure in a tattered, brown hooded cloak walks west.
You follow the tall figure in a tattered, brown hooded cloak, and walk west.
~they travel through the dark alleys~Stalking into a shadowy cul-de-sac, the tall figure in a tattered, brown hooded cloak says to you, in sirihish:
"Alright, kid. Here'ss how it worksss."Mouse nods her head silently.
Lifting your skirt up carelessly, the tall figure in a tattered, brown hooded cloak says to you, in sirihish:
"Here, your private bitss, the guysss will pay good sid to poke their pecker in there."Mouse places her hand on the skirt, pushing the cloth down as she looks at the tall figure in a tattered, brown hooded cloak hey eyes wide.
The tall figure in a tattered, brown hooded cloak says to you, in sirihish:
"You won't like it much if you're not wanting it, but it's the sssid that countss."
Gesturing vaguely, the tall figure in a tattered, brown hooded cloak asks you, in sirihish:
"Ever ssee anyone in the back of a tavern, fumbling around on top of eachotherss?"Mouse shakes her head, still wide eyed.
Planting her hands on her hips, the tall figure in a tattered, brown hooded cloak asks you, in sirihish:
"Krath, kid, you never sseen a whore at work? You grow up with your head in the ground?"Mouse nods her head dumbly, her expression lost..
The red orb of Jihae ascends over the horizon.
The pale orb of Lirathu ascends over the horizon.
The tall figure in a tattered, brown hooded cloak asks you, in sirihish:
"Fine. Right. Down there where your thighss meet, place that feels funny if you poke it.. know the ssspot?"Mouse looks down her body for a moment, then nods her head.
Nodding, the tall figure in a tattered, brown hooded cloak says to you, in sirihish:
"Good. If you get a guy to pay you for it, you lay down on the floor with your legsss out, and let them do what they paid for."Mouse stares down her body confused, then glances up at the tall figure in a tattered, brown hooded cloak.
The tall figure in a tattered, brown hooded cloak says to you, in sirihish:
"You gonna wanna ask ----- for ssome mul mix or you might have a baby. Don't want that right now."Mouse looks more then a little lost as she looks down at her body again.
In a simple, explanatory tone, the tall figure in a tattered, brown hooded cloak says to you, in sirihish:
"That'ss where babiesss come from. Guy payss whore, ssshe forgets mul mix, and a year later sshe has a little baby."
The tall figure in a tattered, brown hooded cloak says to you, in sirihish:
"Sseen it lotss of times. It'ss how babiess are made."Mouse frowns confused as she gestures to the nearby wall she begins to draw on it.
Using her finger, Mouse draws out a man with a baby, then him putting the baby inside a girl.Mouse looks back at the tall figure in a tattered, brown hooded cloak questioning.
The tall figure in a tattered, brown hooded cloak says to you, in sirihish:
"Uh... yeah, only it'ss a tiny tiny baby when it getss inside. Like a little ssspirit."Studying the drawing with a puzzled face, the tall figure in a tattered, brown hooded cloak says to you, in sirihish:
"I think."Mouse loses most of the color in her face as she looks at the drawing she made.
The tall figure in a tattered, brown hooded cloak says to you, in sirihish:
"Anyway, don't matter. You're not making babiess, hopefully."The tall figure in a tattered, brown hooded cloak says to you, in sirihish:
"If you do, we can prolly ssstuff them in the orphanage."Gesturing a clawed hand expansively, the tall figure in a tattered, brown hooded cloak says to you, in sirihish:
"Sso when the cusstomer's paid, you find a place... old building or sssomething. Take off them there clothess, and do what they ssays."Mouse looks down her body, confusion glittering in her eyes.
The tall figure in a tattered, brown hooded cloak says to you, in sirihish:
"Hurtss like Krath's sshine the firssst time, that'ss why you sshould have a friend do it carefully."Mouse turns deadly pale as she looks up at the tall figure in a tattered, brown hooded cloak.
Shrugging, the tall figure in a tattered, brown hooded cloak asks you, in sirihish:
"Instead of ssome drunk bassstard. Get it?"Mouse nods her head dumbly, looking shocked..
Looking you over, the tall figure in a tattered, brown hooded cloak asks you, in sirihish:
"Alright, you get what I'm ssaying?"Mouse shakes her head then nods her head, still looking pale.
Patting your shoulder awkwardly, the tall figure in a tattered, brown hooded cloak says to you, in sirihish:
"You'll get the hang of it. Not difficult."You think:
"what on earth is going to happen to me?"With a morbid grin, the tall figure in a tattered, brown hooded cloak says to you, in sirihish:
"At leasst you have a decent chance at the job. My beauty daysss are over."Mouse blinks dumbly, only glancing to the hand.
Strolling back down the alley, the tall figure in a tattered, brown hooded cloak says to you, in sirihish:
"Oh, and if a woman payss you, you're sssaving mul mix and the job'ss easier. Jusst a bit different."The tall figure in a tattered, brown hooded cloak stealthily moves west.
You follow the tall figure in a tattered, brown hooded cloak, and stealthily move west.You think:
"where do babies come from?"At your table, the tall figure in a tattered, brown hooded cloak says in sirihish, rolling her eyes:
"Fine. Come on."The tall figure in a tattered, brown hooded cloak stands up from a sturdy old bar.
stand
You stand up from a sturdy old...
Continue Reading...Mama Red's Lesson by HaiWolfe
Added on Apr 5, 2007A young and foolhardy adventurer chances a ride through the Red Desert with another traveler and gets dealt a harsh lesson. Ambushed by gith, he loses his kank and flees on foot, stumbling up and rolling down the sand dunes. He makes it to the North Road, battered and exhausted, but soon finds that he is not alone...
============================================================
A young and foolhardy adventurer chances a ride through the Red Desert with another traveler and gets dealt a harsh lesson. Ambushed by gith, he loses his kank and flees on foot, stumbling up and rolling down the sand dunes. He makes it to the North Road, battered and exhausted, but soon finds that he is not alone...
============================================================
North Road [NESW]
The stark white of the wide stone road lies across these sands like the
spine of a gargantuan carcass. Slightly curving and in places partially
buried in sand, the pale backbone twists along the upper cliff of the Shield
Wall.
The road runs east and west from here.
West of here is Bend in the North Road.
[Very far]
Nothing.
[Far]
Nothing.
[Near]
Nothing.
North of here are Sandy Wastes.
[Far]
Nothing.
[Near]
Nothing.
South of here is Atop the Shield Wall.
[Very far]
Nothing.
[Far]
Nothing.
[Near]
Nothing.
98,6,104,walking,standing>
You sit down and rest your tired bones.
The lean, sandy-red gith pierces your neck, doing frightening damage.
The lean, sandy-red gith lightly pierces your body.
54,6,70,walking,fighting: the lean, sandy-red gith>
Bend in the North Road [NESW]
The stark white of the wide stone road lies across these sands like the
spine of a gargantuan carcass. Slightly curving and in places partially
buried in sand, the pale backbone twists along the upper cliff of the Shield
Wall.
The road bends to the north and east from this point.
You flee head over heels.
54,1,71,running,standing>You are too exhausted.
You deftly parry the lean, sandy-red gith's attack.
The lean, sandy-red gith pierces your body.
This gith is characteristically lean for his race, perhaps a little more so
than average. Wiry strength is apparent in his long arms and legs, however,
as well as his clawed hands. He is hunched over, appearing much shorter
than he would be if his back were straight, and his sandy-red skin bears
the markings of both battle and the elements. Black eyes gleam dully from
their place in his malevolent-looking face.
The lean, sandy-red gith is in excellent condition.
The lean, sandy-red gith is using:
<worn on head> an used veiled, wide-brimmed surmac
<primary hand> a dusty bone-tipped spear
<secondary hand> a dusty obsidian shortsword
<worn around body> a dusty hooded, sandy-brown dustcloak
<worn on legs> an used set of cuirbouilli leg guards
46,1,62,running,fighting: the lean, sandy-red gith>
The lean, sandy-red gith lightly pierces your body.
You deftly parry the lean, sandy-red gith's attack.
The lean, sandy-red gith circles, lashing out with his dusty bone-tipped spear.
The lean, sandy-red gith pierces your body.
You deftly parry the lean, sandy-red gith's attack.
The lean, sandy-red gith parries your attack.
The lean, sandy-red gith swiftly dodges your stab.
34,1,50,running,fighting: the lean, sandy-red gith>
The lean, sandy-red gith says, in an unfamiliar tongue:
"sqesiw qeubnuem, ueow dzuibj uakurie, feq iuo'kl wi tewa."
You exclaim, in sirihish:
"Wait, wait!"
The lean, sandy-red gith pierces your body.
The lean, sandy-red gith pierces you very hard on your neck.
The lean, sandy-red gith swiftly dodges your slash.
The lean, sandy-red gith swiftly dodges your stab.
The figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak backs off, blades crossed in front of himself.
12,1,37,running,fighting: the lean, sandy-red gith>
The lean, sandy-red gith solidly pierces your body.
You deftly parry the lean, sandy-red gith's attack.
3,1,28,running,fighting: the lean, sandy-red gith>
The lean, sandy-red gith pierces you very hard on your body.
-9,1,14,running,mortally wounded>
Someone rolls you over after delivering a vicious kick to your midsection.
The figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak groans in pain.
Your new ldesc is:
The figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak lies on the ground, bleeding from multiple holes in his body.
Placing a knee in your back, someone strips away some things.
The lean, sun-browned man's tongue lolls out as his head falls limply to a side.
Someone yanks something from your neck.
Someone rolls you over.
The lean, sun-browned man twitches feebly.
You feel tremendous amounts of pain shooting from your spear wounds.
You feel yourself slipping into feverish unconsciousness.
============================================================
Stripped of his valuables and left for dead beneath the unforgiving sun, the blood from his injuries begins to clot and keeps him from bleeding to death. Lucky bastard. He begins to hallucinate.
============================================================
-4,1,14,running,mortally wounded>
You feel dizzied by a phantasmagoria of images... a monstrous silt horror rising out of the sea, tentacles lashing... sandy skies and red scrub... a laughing prostitute... Kruth cards flying away on the wind...
You feel a numb sensation, like the down after way, way, way too much spice.
You feel as though you are sinking in silt, slowly sinking lower and lower.
You feel curious at the sight of a jozhal swimming by, winking as it does the backstroke.
0,1,14,running,stunned>
You feel a sudden urge to fight your way back up to the surface and begin flailing madly.
You feel the silt pulling down on you, but keep clawing your way upwards.
You feel a rush of determination that fuels your fight.
1,1,19,running,resting>
You feel a massive suction force as you break the surface, sputtering with a mouthful of sand.
Eyes closed, the lean, sun-browned man sputters and gasps.
The lean, sun-browned man's eyes snap open as he pushes himself up on his elbows, wiping sand and dirt from his tongue with a hand.
Bend in the North Road [NESW]
The stark white of the wide stone road lies across these sands like the
spine of a gargantuan carcass. Slightly curving and in places partially
buried in sand, the pale backbone twists along the upper cliff of the Shield
Wall.
The road bends to the north and east from this point.
The lean, sun-browned man goggles a bit at his surroundings.
To himself, raspily, you ask, in sirihish:
"What in Krath...?"
The crimson sun sinks into the west, as the desert darkens.
The lean, sun-browned man seems to regain his focus somewhat as he looks at the setting sun.
You think:
"I feel like shit... got to get back to Luir's.. somehow."
The lean, sun-browned man groans as he rolls over and tries to pick himself up.
The lean, sun-browned man pushes himself to his knees and takes a breather.
The lean, sun-browned man squints at the horizon.
In a strained voice as he braces himself up off the ground, you exclaim, in sirihish:
"Hup!"
You stand up.
============================================================
Clinging stubbornly to life, he staggers painfully down the darkening road as dusk settles in. With the exception of a wrong turn that nearly sends him toppling over the edge of the Shield Wall, he reaches the sanctuary of Luir's Outpost with no further incident.
============================================================
Sparse sands blow across your path.
The South Gate of Luir's Outpost [SW]
The walls of this client village have felt the trickle of much blood
over the years, and great care is evident in the fortifications visible on
all sides. The pair of gate towers, one rebuilt and one new, stand strong,
flanking the reinforced arch leading out of the bailey. Each is ominously
crowned with four grasping horns of jet-black obsidian and sport an archer's
window three-quarter's up on each face. Large torches flank the gates.
Another stout, sturdy watchtower rises over the battlements of the inner
barrier to the northwest. Running the entire length of this inner wall,
carved spikes of bone have been mounted. Thin protected slits in the top of
the walls provide archers an easy target at anyone traveling along this
roadway and frequent glimpses of movement indicate the defenses are always
well manned.
Westward, through the shanty-town of the outer bailey, a road passes
between these two sets of imposing walls.
The ghoulishly scarred half-giant looms before the gate here.
A unit of dun-clad Kuraci regulars stands here in strict formation.
A unit of Kurac mercenaries stands here, ready for battle.
The tall pudgy man looks around with a challenging expression.
The lean, sun-browned man feebly tips his hat toward the tall pudgy man before falling over.
You sit down and rest your tired bones.
You think:
"Krath, I'm in bad shape.. I need to get help."
The lean, sun-browned man brushes his fingers over a pair of punctures in his neck, now clotted over with dried blood.
You are carrying:
a thin, brown leather wrap
You bow your head, placing the wrap about your neck.
Darkness
Total darkness surrounds you, preventing you from seeing anything
at all. You have trouble telling where you put your feet when you walk.
It is late at night on Huegel, the 74th day of the Ascending Sun,
In the Year of Jihae's Peace, year 23 of the 21st Age.
You go to sleep.
The lean, sun-browned man drifts in and out of fitful sleep, curled on his side near the wall.
============================================================
Some time passes before he is discovered.
============================================================
Someone stoops, slinging a blade over her lanky shoulders.
You wake up as you feel your arms being twisted behind your back.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf subdues you, despite your attempts to struggle away.
The lean, sun-browned man yelps as he's jerked out of his sleep, struggling feebly.
With effort, the slight, desert-hued half-elf heaves you up against one of her shoulders.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Easy, boyo."
With you braced casually, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says to the tall pudgy man, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"He's known to me, I'll get him outta the way."
Mumbling incoherently, you say, in sirihish:
"Oh.. s'you."
Aside, to you, the slight, desert-hued half-elf asks, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Yea, Sergeant Sha to save the doy. Again. Can ya' walk any?"
Regaining his focus, you say, in sirihish:
"More or less.."
One lanky arm supporting you, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Try, I'll help ya'. Let's go."
The slight, desert-hued half-elf begins shuffling off through the bailey.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf walks west, dragging you behind her.
The area is enveloped in darkness.
A Hard-Packed Roadway Between the Walls [EW]
Hastily leveled, the gritty hardpan of the Red Desert has been packed
down into a broad, flat swath between two parallel sets of stout, unadorned
stone walls. The massive walls border both sides of this wide roadway,
rising easily the height of two half-giants. Built of large chunks of onyx,
obsidian, and other less identifiable black stone, they are mortared with a
deep grey mixture that is only noticeable on close inspection.
Along the top of the inner wall, carved spikes of bone have been mounted,
proving a challenge to all but the most skilled climber. Thin slits in the
top of the walls themselves provide archers an easy target at anyone
traveling along this roadway and dun-cloaked soldiers can infrequently be
glimpsed on patrol atop the high ramparts of the inner walls.
Sheltered from the worst of the desert's excesses, the occasional wagon,
caravan, or trading party moves under the open sky along the well-worn track
towards the Outpost's gates.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf walks west, dragging you behind her.
The area is enveloped in darkness.
A Hard-Packed Roadway Between the Walls [EW]
Hastily leveled, the gritty hardpan of the Red Desert has been packed
down into a broad, flat swath between two parallel sets of stout, unadorned
stone walls. The massive walls border both sides of this wide roadway,
rising easily the height of two half-giants. Built of large chunks of onyx,
obsidian, and other less identifiable black stone, they are mortared with a
deep grey mixture that is only noticeable on close inspection.
Along the top of the inner wall, carved spikes of bone have been mounted,
proving a challenge to all but the most skilled climber. Thin slits in the
top of the walls themselves provide archers an easy target at anyone
traveling along this roadway and dun-cloaked soldiers can infrequently be
glimpsed on patrol atop the high ramparts of the inner walls.
Sheltered from the worst of the desert's excesses, the occasional wagon,
caravan, or trading party moves under the open sky along the well-worn track
towards the Outpost's gates.
A pavilion of yellowed, thread-bare sandcloth leans against the outpost wall here.
The red light of Jihae rises over the outpost's southern walls.
Under the Watch Tower [NE]
Hastily leveled, the gritty hardpan of the Red Desert has been packed
down into a broad, flat swath between two parallel sets of stout, unadorned
stone walls. The massive walls border both sides of this wide roadway,
rising easily the height of two half-giants. Built of large chunks of onyx,
obsidian, and other less identifiable black stone, they are mortared with a
deep grey mixture that is only noticeable on close inspection.
At the corner of the roadway, a massive watchtower still lies under
construction, the wooden frame already in place as work continues.
Sheltered from the worst of the desert's excesses, the occasional wagon,
caravan, or trading party moves under the open sky along the well-worn track
towards the Outpost's gates.
The lean, sun-browned man staggers along with the slight, desert-hued half-elf's support, dried blood streaked from beneath your thin, brown leather wrap and joining similar streams along your bloodied white sandcloth shirt.
============================================================
The Kuraci sergeant brings him through the bailey, past the inner gates, and into the Outpost proper.
============================================================
The slight, desert-hued half-elf walks east, dragging you behind her.
Steel Road [NESW]
This dirt hardpack road runs east and west between the outer yard and
Sun's Road. The odd sign of wagon track suggests that this road is put to
more use than others.
The road continues to the east and west, between buildings that lie to
the north and Merchant Field to the south. To the north, a thick white
agafari door leads away from the road.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf huffs for breath as she supports most of your weight with her scrawny might.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf walks east, dragging you behind her.
Steel Road [NESW]
This dirt hardpack road runs east and west between the outer yard and
Sun's Road. The odd sign of wagon track suggests that this road was once
put to more use than others.
Directly north of here is a small open yard, overhung by the upper floor
of the inn. Southward lies Merchant Field.
The lean, haggard man ambles slowly through the yard here.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf walks east, dragging you behind her.
Steel Road [NESW]
This dirt hardpack road runs east and west between the outer yard and
Sun's Road. The odd sign of wagon track suggests that this road was once
put to more use than others.
North of here lies the tallest structure within the outpost, apparently
an inn constructed for the benefit of whatever travelers might have come
through. Blackened stone shows sign of recent repair though no gaps or
seams are visible in the massive walls. This imposing building, with spikes
at all four corners and obsidian black walls, holds an air of both
durability and agelessness. Southward lies the entrance to Merchant Field.
Breathlessly, the slight, desert-hued half-elf shouts, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Regular Mynkas!"
With you supported with a skinny arm, the slight, desert-hued half-elf peers through the door.
The wind changes direction.
The lean, sun-browned man sways on his feet, leaning against a faint shape.
A faint shape lights an unlit simple, leather-wrapped bone torch.
Muttering irritably, a faint shape says, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Fuck this shit.. c'mon, we're movin'."
Barely visible in the gloom, a faint shape says to a faint shape, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Get that gate open."
A faint shape shouts, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Yer Sergeant!"
A faint shape shouts, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Forget about it!"
A faint shape unlocks the gates with a bent obsidian key.
A faint shape opens the gates.
A faint shape steps aside, allowing a faint shape to pass.
A faint shape closes the gates from the other side.
A faint shape mutters and grumbles under her breath in bendune, squinting through the sandy darkness as she half supports, half drags you along.
Luir's Outpost Infirmary [E]
This building consists of a single large, open room that is permeated
by a melange of smells ranging from the fragrance of dried herbs to the
putrid stench of festering wounds and the bitter tang of medicinal
tinctures. The worn stone floor here is relatively free of dust and red
sand, a feat only accomplished by frequent sweeping.
In the center of the room are three long wooden tables, all of which bear
the dark, splotchy stains of old blood and pungent poultices. Along the
back wall opposite the entrance is a row of leather cots, sometimes occupied
by the ailing or injured. Two cabinets stand beside a few bins arrayed
along the north wall. Shuttered windows in the east wall can be opened when
the wind is down, and bone lanterns hang from the thick wooden crossbeams
overhead.
A few long, wooden worktables are here.
Some carved shelves of fitted agafari hardwood stand here.
The greasy-looking, spidery man stands here, tending to the wounded.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf heaves you through the door and through the infirmary, to a long, wooden worktable.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf releases you, and you immediately move away.
The lean, sun-browned man pedals his bare feet on the ground, trying ineffectively to keep his balance.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf crouches.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf stops using a shining leather-strapped green glow-crystal.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf extinguishes a shining leather-strapped green glow-crystal.
The lean, sun-browned man falls over onto a long, wooden worktable with a thump.
You rest on a long, wooden worktable.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf puts a leather-strapped green glow-crystal inside a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak.
Rubbing her tattooed hands together to knock grit from them, the slight, desert-hued half-elf moves for a cabinet.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf gets a white cloth bandage from a hardwood cabinet.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf gets a white cloth bandage from a hardwood cabinet.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf gets a white cloth bandage from a hardwood cabinet.
Grabbing a handful of rolled bandages, the slight, desert-hued half-elf pokes through a second cabinet nearby.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf gets a crumbling red tablet from a hardwood cabinet.
You look at the slight, desert-hued half-elf silently through eyes half-lidded in pain.
This small half-elven woman's lean, tautly muscled body is ravaged by the
scars of battle, wind and sand, her skin a weathered cunyati hue. In
lighter contrast, her hair is a sandy brown, the longest strands wisping
just past her chin. She has slanted, narrow eyes, their irises shaded a
murky green about vertically slitted pupils, and her ears are mismatched;
the left is sharply pointed, but the right is smaller, almost round. A
faded scar tugs from the left corner of her mouth and across her cheek,
giving her thin lips a perpetual smirk. Another noticeable scar cuts a pale
line above her right eyebrow, deep and faintly curved, as if from a blade.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf is in excellent condition.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf is using:
<face> a long, jagged-looking scar
<worn in left ear> a red feather earring
<worn in right ear> a hooked fang
<neck> a few massive, slash-marked scars
<worn about throat> an agate and raptor-bone necklace
<slung across back> a serrated bone warsword
<worn on right shoulder> a shoulder patch with a dun colored eclipsed moon
<left shoulder> a tattoo of a raptor with a spice tube
<worn on arms> a pair of desert-camouflaged, sandcloth sleeves
<worn around wrist> a small black leather armsheath
<left wrist> a sprawling tattoo of crimson blossoms
<hands> a simple series of black tattoos
<worn on left finger> a feathered maar ring
<worn around body> a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak
<worn on legs> a pair of desert-camouflaged, sandcloth leggings
<worn on right ankle> a ragged hempcloth pouch
<worn on feet> a pair of knee-high grey leather boots
Muttering irritably to herself, searching a hardwood cabinet's shelves, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"No fuckin' vials left.."
The slight, desert-hued half-elf turns to a wooden storage bin, sorting.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf gets a sap-filled, grey-green leaf from a wooden storage bin.
Moving to a long, wooden worktable and setting an array of medicinal supplies down, the slight, desert-hued half-elf asks you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Fuck happened to you?"
The slight, desert-hued half-elf stands at a long, wooden worktable.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf looks down at you with a squint.
The lean, sun-browned man grimaces as fresh blood lazily seeps from a re-opened puncture wound in his side.
Grunting the word out, you say, in sirihish:
"Gith."
Tugging a blade out and cutting away your shirt, the slight, desert-hued half-elf asks you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Sorry, this shirt's gotta go. I'm sure it ain't the kind of situation you wanted to lose it in. How many?"
Looking at the ceiling as he lies flat on his back, you say, in sirihish:
"Whole bunch, was one that cornered me."
The lean, sun-browned man's shirt falls apart in slices, revealing multiple punctures strewn across his torso.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf sets a knife aside and your torn shirt, unrolling a bandage.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf holds a white cloth bandage.
At your seat, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says in tribal-accented sirihish, probing your wounds, then swiftly applying a pressure-bandage to one of the worst bleeders:
"Straight southways?"
At your seat, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says in tribal-accented sirihish, warningly:
"Hold still.."
Your head clears a little.
36,111,104,walking,resting>
The lean, sun-browned man grunts his acknowledgement.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf holds the pack in place until the bleeding slows, and binds it securely.
In a smooth motion, the slight, desert-hued half-elf slides a translucent, crystalline longknife out of a small black leather armsheath.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf brandishes a translucent, crystalline longknife.
His voice weak, you say, in sirihish:
"Aye, south."
At your seat, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says in tribal-accented sirihish, tsking softly as she picks up a thick green leaf:
"Haven't ya' heard the regulars warnin' about taking the south trails?"
The slight, desert-hued half-elf lays out some cloth and begins to work it.
Sounding uncertain, you ask, in sirihish:
"I should be dead really... you sure I'm not?"
Unrolling a bandage, the slight, desert-hued half-elf works to coat it with thick sap.
At your seat, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says in tribal-accented sirihish, her eyes focused on her work:
"Nah, you ain't dead. I dump dead people out by the cairns to rot."
At your seat, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says in tribal-accented sirihish, admitting:
"Pretty close to it, though. Jus' hold still."
The slight, desert-hued half-elf carefully soaks the bandage with the oozing sap.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf sheathes a translucent, crystalline longknife into a small black leather armsheath.
Voice growing distant as he closes his eyes, you say, in sirihish:
"Sure felt dead for a while back there.. saw some crazy things."
At your seat, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says in tribal-accented sirihish, seeming briefly distracted, irritation crossing her face before she focuses on you:
"Yea'? Keep talking, it'll keep you awake."
The slight, desert-hued half-elf holds a salve-covered bandage.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf applies the cool sap-soaked bandage to another shallower, bruising wound, gently working to tie it in place.
Your head clears a little.
66,111,104,walking,resting>
The slight, desert-hued half-elf inspects your other wounds, checking your from head to toe.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf swipes a last bandage up, unrolling it.
Mumbling through parched lips, you say, in sirihish:
"Jozhal swimmin' in the Silt Sea.. just swimming along.. not a care, just swimming.."
The slight, desert-hued half-elf holds a white cloth bandage.
At your seat, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says in tribal-accented sirihish, chuckling shortly and moving down to wrap another gash:
"Shit, sounds kind'a fun."
At your seat, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says in tribal-accented sirihish, picking up a tablet and holding it out to you:
"This'll protect against bad blood.. you know, the kind that makes wounds sick."
The slight, desert-hued half-elf gives you a crumbling red tablet.
The lean, sun-browned man twitches an arm up and pulls your thin, brown leather wrap loose, revealing two more clotted wounds on the side of his neck.
You stop using a thin, brown leather wrap.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf frowns, scooting down to wrap more cloth about your neck.
Grimacing, you say, in sirihish:
"Bastard got me bloody good."
At your seat, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says in tribal-accented sirihish, wiping some of your blood from her hands:
"I'd say. 'Bout the closest to death I've seen in a couple months."
At your seat, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says in tribal-accented sirihish, after a last inspection of you, nodding:
"You'll heal, though. Head clearin'?"
The lean, sun-browned man reopens his eyes and looks up at the slight, desert-hued half-elf.
You say, in sirihish:
"Yeah, a lot actually."
Casually, cleaning up around a long, wooden worktable, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Ya' owe me one, then."
The slight, desert-hued half-elf pushes away from a long, wooden worktable.
Pushing himself up onto his elbows, you say to the slight, desert-hued half-elf, in sirihish:
"Sure do."
Crossing to the cabinets and straightening them, the slight, desert-hued half-elf asks, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"What possessed you to crawl southways into the Red?"
The slight, desert-hued half-elf closes a hardwood cabinet.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf closes a hardwood cabinet.
The black-striped dusky male dwarf has arrived from the east, trudging in as sand falls nearly in sheets from his cloak.
Frowning a bit as recollection creeps into his eyes, you say to the slight, desert-hued half-elf, in sirihish:
"There was another fellow, come to think of it."
After swinging a hardwood cabinet's doors shut, the slight, desert-hued half-elf heads back for the table.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf asks you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Well, as fucked up as you are, I'm assuming he didn't make it?"
The black-striped dusky male dwarf stands quietly near the door, sand and dust making small piles at his feet.
Dropping down on the edge, the slight, desert-hued half-elf sits on a long, wooden worktable.
You say to the slight, desert-hued half-elf, in sirihish:
"Hard to say, he ran off in another direction."
At your seat, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says in tribal-accented sirihish, to you:
"Where abouts in the Red was this?"
Looking up and calling out, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says to the black-striped dusky male dwarf, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"We're patrollin', Merc, just not yet."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, looking sidelong at the slight, desert-hued half-elf:
"Though like y'say, doesn't count unless you see the body, aye?"
The black-striped dusky male dwarf thumps his cuirass over his heart with a fist at the slight, desert-hued half-elf.
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Near a couple of big old dunes, one shaped like a star."
At your seat, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says in tribal-accented sirihish, nodding gently:
"That's right.. and there's a lotta star dunes out there. Pass any big rock outcroppings?"
Cutting a look toward the doorway, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says to the black-striped dusky male dwarf, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Tell Ak to get himself ready for a body sweep."
The black-striped dusky male dwarf tilts his head in a friendly greeting at the greasy-looking, spidery man as he passes nearby.
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Can't remember much.. that was my first time out there. He agreed to ride south together, but I didn't think he'd cut through the sands."
The black-striped dusky male dwarf sniffs hard through his nose, and begins to tighten the straps on his cuirass.
At your seat, you say in sirihish, frowning a bit:
"Half-breed, a big one.. name of Turvit? Turvice?"
At your seat, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says in tribal-accented sirihish, shaking her head once:
"Never met him."
At your seat, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says in tribal-accented sirihish, to you, jabbing a finger:
"Never roam the sands without doin' yer research."
At your seat, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Mamma Red ain't to be fucked with."
At your seat, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says in tribal-accented sirihish, to you:
"As you now know."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, holding up his hands, palms outward:
"Aye, aye.. lesson learnt, hard way."
The black-striped dusky male dwarf adjusts the belt on his waist, undoing the buckle and placing it back in what seems to be the same place.
Dropping to his bare feet gingerly, you stand at a long, wooden worktable.
At your seat, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says in tribal-accented sirihish, casually pushing herself up and off the table's edge:
"You'd learn all about her if you was in the Fist."
In a smooth motion, the black-striped dusky male dwarf slides a bone-handled obsidian longknife out of a leather knife belt.
The black-striped dusky male dwarf brandishes a bone-handled obsidian longknife.
Nodding toward the doorway, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"I'll see you out."
============================================================
Eventually making a full recovery, our friend goes on to join the Fist, House Kurac's renowned mercenary outfit. There were many more adventures and near misses to be had over the years, but his luck didn't last forever - it finally ran out one day in the midst of a skirmish on the sands between the Fist and a band of gith raiders. What Mama Red gives, she can take back as well. Such is life and death on Zalanthas.
========================================================================================================================
A young and foolhardy adventurer chances a ride through the Red Desert with another traveler and gets dealt a harsh lesson. Ambushed by gith, he loses his kank and flees on foot, stumbling up and rolling down the sand dunes. He makes...
Continue Reading...Death of Lieutenant Falka by Morfeus
Added on Apr 4, 2007A true story about death of Winrothol servant, Lieutenant Falka.
****
An Oblong Office [E]
Windows flank the western wall of this chamber, their murky glass gazing down to the Red Sun Commons below. Silvery-dyed curtains cascade down either end of the line of windows, hanging from a slender dowel of green-painted agafari wood; upon the right drapery a ragged slit has been cut, trailing all the way to the floor. Although small, this room is decorated to signify the importance of its owner. The walls are painted a soft coat of emerald green, the sheer color showing an underlying layer of silver dye. A desk sits in front of the windows, set beside a stand of unadorned shelves. A single cot lies amidst the southeastern portion of the room, its wood and cotton frame seeming bland and utilitarian.
A silvery grey pymlithe lute sits propped up here.
A few heavy agafari trunks are here.
Some plain shelves formed of clear-lacquered baobab extend here.
A hammer-carved wooden chest sits here.
A simple wooden chest sits here on the floor.
A cradle, made of maroon baobab wood, sits here.
A bleached wooden cask with a cork stopper stands here.
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman is standing here.
The barrel-chested woman stands here, looking about alertly.
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman closes the door.
The short, raven-haired woman salutes the svelte, bald-headed woman.
The pale, feral-eyed woman locks the door with a kenku-carved green key.
The pale, feral-eyed woman moves over to sit behind a sturdy baobab desk.
The pale, feral-eyed woman sits down at a sturdy baobab desk.
You think:
"Hmm... seems someone is in troubles."
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman stands to the side of the pale, feral-eyed woman.
The svelte, bald-headed woman glances to you briefly before looking to the pale, feral-eyed woman questioningly.
The pale, feral-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Lieutenant, you are probably wondering what we have called you here for."
Tilting her head a bit, you say to the pale, feral-eyed woman, in sirihish:
"Chosen Lady Vilacent mentioned Serpent's name, Chosen Ward."
The svelte, bald-headed woman glances to you before looking to the pale, feral-eyed woman questioningly.
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman whispers something to the pale, feral-eyed woman.
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman nods once to the pale, feral-eyed woman.
Looking at you, the bony, obsidian-eyed woman says, in sirihish:
"I had told you that yes.. Falka.. It was to bring you here."
The short, raven-haired woman raises her eyebrow.
The svelte, bald-headed woman moves over to stand near the door, watching you.
The pale, feral-eyed woman sits back in her chair, fingers steepled, regarding the bony, obsidian-eyed woman and you.
Folding her gloved hands at her back as she looks to you, the bony, obsidian-eyed woman says, in sirihish:
"There has been a leak of information in the house.. It has become clear that there is a very narrow chance of it being any other person."
With a blink, you ask, in sirihish:
"What?"
Lowering her gaze for a moment, you ask, in sirihish:
"I meant... what do you mean... Chosen Lady?"
Taking a breath and steading her voice, the bony, obsidian-eyed woman says, in sirihish:
"I would like to ask you if there is anything that you wish to tell use now."
Looking down to her eyes, the bony, obsidian-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Before we tell you."
Lifting her shoulders in a small shrug, you ask, in sirihish:
"I don't know what to say, Chosen Lady. Information about what?"
With a slight frown, you say, in sirihish:
"If I did anything wrong... I don't know what it was."
Nodding, the bony, obsidian-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Have you spoken to anyone about anything that you and I have spoke about privately Falka? "
Lifting a finger, the bony, obsidian-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Before answering.. bear in mind that we already know more than you think."
Wrinkling her forehead, you say to the bony, obsidian-eyed woman, in sirihish:
"About... that work for Serpent? I talked to Serpent, of course."
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman asks you, in sirihish:
"Perhaps you have been seeing somone in what you thought was private?"
You say, in sirihish:
"Serpent? I talked to him in his apartment... I thought it's safe."
Interrupting, shaking her head, the pale, feral-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Not Serpent."
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman sighs and nods to the pale, feral-eyed woman as she takes a long pace across the floor, stopping to look out the window a moment.
Looking between the pale, feral-eyed woman and the bony, obsidian-eyed woman, you say, in sirihish:
"I... I don't understand."
Turning round, the bony, obsidian-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"You have a chance to confess here, and come out with the truth of things. I urge you to take advantage of it."
You think:
"Advantage? They will kill me... no matter what."
Scratching her earlobe, you ask, in sirihish:
"Advantage?"
You say, in sirihish:
"I didn't tell anyone else then Serpent about such thing. I met some person... but not to..."
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman asks you, in sirihish:
"Who?"
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman asks you, in sirihish:
"What Person, and what did you say?"
With a deep breath, you say, in sirihish:
"I met that person to give him something..."
Shaking her head, the bony, obsidian-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"You were seen.. Things are not looking in your favor Falka.. Tell us what you know and what you have done.. I am trying to make this easy."
The short, raven-haired woman lowers her head to look down at the floor.
The svelte, bald-headed woman folds her arms over her chest, staring you down.
Motioning to the svelte, bald-headed woman, the bony, obsidian-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"The Captain is a bit more difficult I should think."
The svelte, bald-headed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"They are doing this the easy way, Lieutenant. I can make it hard, believe me."
With a frown, you say, in sirihish:
"I did not do anything -wrong-. I did all I was able to keep His Chosens safe."
Her voice sharpening, the bony, obsidian-eyed woman asks you, in sirihish:
"Which -Chosen- Falka?"
You say, in sirihish:
"I am Chosen Lord Baladan to bring him flower for his wife. She was very ill and he needed some very rare flower to safe her."
Shaking her head, nostrils flaring, the bony, obsidian-eyed woman asks you, in sirihish:
"Lies!.. You expect me to belive it.. Where did you meet him Falka?"
Very quietly, you say to the bony, obsidian-eyed woman (Chosen Vilacent), in sirihish:
"Why should I continue if you don't trust my words? Ask Serpent, he brought the flower from south."
Her lips snarling under her hooked nose, the bony, obsidian-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Such secretive mesures all for a flower?? "
You say to the bony, obsidian-eyed woman, in sirihish:
"What secretive? I did not want to be seen with him. I met him in the building where Serpent's apartment is."
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman looks over to the pale, feral-eyed woman and nods.
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman asks you, in sirihish:
"Did I not say we know more than you could possibly think Falka? Did I not warn you?"
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman shakes her head and takes a seat at the desk.
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman sits down at a sturdy baobab desk.
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman lifts her hand to her temple, letting out a sigh.
Sitting up in her chair, gazing evenly at you, the pale, feral-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Lieutenant...do you think we would have come to this point easily? We didn't want to believe that you could have..."
Straightening her shoulders and sighing, the pale, feral-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Very well. I will tell you what we know."
The pale, feral-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"You had a clandestine meeting with a Chosen of House Tenneshi, in the trellis in the nobles' quarter. You were seen."
The pale, feral-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Also, someone has revealed Chosen Lady Vilacent's plan to take out a certain license."
Arching a thin brow, the pale, feral-eyed woman asks you, in sirihish:
"Do you deny these charges?"
Shaking her head briefly, you say, in sirihish:
"That was different time... I did not inform him about the plan."
The pale, feral-eyed woman asks you, in sirihish:
"Then...who did?"
You say, in sirihish:
"Chosen Ward, you know I'd not do anything to endager Chosen Lady. Telling him about it would openly endanger her. I don't know who did it. I did not."
The pale, feral-eyed woman asks you, in sirihish:
"And furthermore, why are you meeting so often with the Chosen of Tenneshi in secret?"
Her tone icily amused, the pale, feral-eyed woman asks you, in sirihish:
"Do you deliver flowers to them regularly?"
You say, in sirihish:
"No. I met him to find out what he needs and I met him to deliver the flower."
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman shakes her head.
Lowering her gaze, you say, in sirihish:
"I wanted him to trust me."
Arching a brow, the pale, feral-eyed woman asks you, in sirihish:
"Why?"
Lowering her voice even a bit more, you say, in sirihish:
"Because I hoped to revenge death of Faithful Lord Kipol."
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman asks you, in sirihish:
"You do realize how this looks Lieutenant? And of all the things you have told me.. You have failed to tell me this?"
You say, in sirihish:
"Faithful Lady Eunoli said not to talk about it...."
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman asks you, in sirihish:
"What do you mean avenge? What did Tenneshi have to to with this?"
Quietly, you say, in sirihish:
"We should not talk about it... that shadow might listen... that magickers might listen... and if we say more, we would endanger you both."
Frustration clearly upon her, the bony, obsidian-eyed woman asks you, in sirihish:
"What are you talking about?"
The pale, feral-eyed woman asks you, in sirihish:
"Faithful Lady Eunoli told you to do what?"
You say, in sirihish:
"Not to talk about such things."
You say, in sirihish:
"Only with her, only in gardens."
You say, in sirihish:
"That's why we were quiet."
Cocking her head to one side, the pale, feral-eyed woman asks you, in sirihish:
"Do you, or do you not, serve House Winrothol?"
The pale, feral-eyed woman asks you, in sirihish:
"Or do you serve Tenneshi?"
The pale, feral-eyed woman asks you, in sirihish:
"Or are you in His Legions?"
With a deep frown, you say, in sirihish:
"I don't serve Tenneshi. You don't understand? It's dangerous... very dangerous... to talk about it. Magickers cannot enter that garden."
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman asks you, in sirihish:
"Do these Magickers speak with Tenneshi Falka?"
Sighing, the pale, feral-eyed woman asks you, in sirihish:
"I understand you think telling us may endanger us. However, don't you think keeping silent might endanger us?"
you ask, in sirihish:
"Should we talk about it? Should we?"
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman asks you, in sirihish:
"Does Darcina have these powers to hear us and see us?"
With a curt nod, the pale, feral-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Yes, Falka. Tell us everything."
The short, raven-haired woman slowly nods her head.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Tell me of the Chosen Tenneshi, is he who she works for this beast."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
Her voice hoarse, you say, in sirihish:
"We believe Chosen Lord Baladan Tenneshi is meeting the magickers of group led by defiler called the Reborn Lord."
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman looks over at you.
At a sturdy baobab desk, the bony, obsidian-eyed woman speaks, nodding.
Blinking and bringing a hand to her chest, the pale, feral-eyed woman asks you, in sirihish:
"Those are serious charges, Falka. Who is 'we'?"
After clearing her throat, you say, in sirihish:
"I meant... I do."
Settling back in her seat, crossing her legs, the pale, feral-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Very interesting. Do go on."
Raising both hands, you ask, in sirihish:
"Yes. Serious charges... that's why we met him, eh? We wanted him to trust us. We wanted to get a proof... because we cannot tell Faithful Lady that one of His Chosens... without proof... could we?"
The pale, feral-eyed woman asks you, in sirihish:
"She is in the best position to get proof, yes?"
The pale, feral-eyed woman asks you, in sirihish:
"What gives you these suspicions, Lieutenant?"
Lowering her gaze, you say to the pale, feral-eyed woman, in sirihish:
"She would not trust us without proof."
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman asks you, in sirihish:
"Us, you and who?"
Slightly narrowing her eyes, you say, in sirihish:
"Me. We is... me."
The pale, feral-eyed woman asks you, in sirihish:
"Why do you keep saying 'we'?"
In an embarrassment, you say, in sirihish:
"I am sorry... it's easier. I am scared. It's so... complicated. Everything is so... complicated."
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman asks you, in sirihish:
"Who is we Falka?"
You think:
"I have right enough of this, Falka. You are acting like some... coward."
The short, raven-haired woman straightens a bit, clearing her throat.
In a deep voice, you say, in sirihish:
"We are we."
At a sturdy baobab desk, the pale, feral-eyed woman speaks, gently to you.
Looking at the pale, feral-eyed woman, you say, in sirihish:
"I did not hear... that, Chosen Ward."
Gently, the pale, feral-eyed woman asks you, in sirihish:
"Is someone else...there with you, Falka?"
Waving her hand in a wild gesture, you ask, in sirihish:
"Falka is not here now. She is hiding. What was that more interesting question? How I found out that Baladan is dealing with defiler?"
Tilting her head to one side, her expression one of fascination, the pale, feral-eyed woman asks you, in sirihish:
"Yes. That is the important question...how should I call you?"
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman eyes widen as she watches you.
The pale, feral-eyed woman nods lightly to the bony, obsidian-eyed woman.
Offering the pale, feral-eyed woman a smile, you say, in sirihish:
"I am Ramon, Chosen Ward. I will gladly answer your... other questions."
With a dip of her head, the pale, feral-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Pleased to make your acquaintance...Ramon."
The svelte, bald-headed woman shifts uncomfortably near the door, eyes on you.
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman sighs deeply.
Looking between the bony, obsidian-eyed woman and the pale, feral-eyed woman, you say, in sirihish:
"Oh... yes. I am glad to talk to you too, indeed. It's all easy, Falka is just scared of magick things, eh? She is coward."
With a slow nod, the pale, feral-eyed woman asks you, in sirihish:
"And you are brave, Ramon?"
With a wide grin, you say to the pale, feral-eyed woman, in sirihish:
"Of course I am, Chosen Ward. Falka might learn to be too, during the time, hopefully."
The pale, feral-eyed woman asks you, in sirihish:
"You have had much contact with magickers, Ramon?"
After a pause, you say, in sirihish:
"No. But I am not scared of them."
You say, in sirihish:
"I knew few of them during the time, but I don't like them. But that doesn't mean I am scared. I am not."
You say, in sirihish:
"One of that which I knew is how I found out Baladan is meeting them too."
Nodding, the pale, feral-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Of course. You're very wise, Ramon. Tell me more."
You say, in sirihish:
"That wind mage, Runaktla. He worked for Chosen Lord Thradan."
At a sturdy baobab desk, the pale, feral-eyed woman speaks, arching her brows.
At a sturdy baobab desk, the bony, obsidian-eyed woman speaks, shaking her head.
Narrowing her eyes, you ask, in sirihish:
"It's stupid, but my ears are not that good... was that meant to my ears?"
Arching her brows, the pale, feral-eyed woman asks you, in sirihish:
"Our own Chosen Lord Thradan? Did the Chosen Lord know he was a magicker?"
Nodding, you say to the pale, feral-eyed woman, in sirihish:
"I think he knew, yes. And yes, Chosen Lord Thradan Winrothol."
With a thin smile, the pale, feral-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Continue, Ramon."
<84/84, 105/109, 95/95> <standing, walking, sirihish>
You say, in sirihish:
"Runaktla killed some so-called nobles in south, that's why I thought about him differently than about other cursed. Again, Faithful Lady Eunoli knows about this."
You say, in sirihish:
"Now... Runaktla killed son of Kuraci Advisor Deno. He tried to tell everyone that other wind mage, Lineah, did it."
The pale, feral-eyed woman asks you, in sirihish:
"Would you be willing to repeat all this, for her?"
Shrugging, you say, in sirihish:
"I am not scared."
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman pushes off of a white-carru hide, reclining easy chair and rises to her feet.
You ask, in sirihish:
"So, I know that anyone thinking that Lineah killed the son is informed by Runaktla, right?"
Nodding, the pale, feral-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"But do go on..."
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman searches through a thornwood and leather keyring.
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman unlocks the door with a kenku-carved green key.
The pale, feral-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Ramon."
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman opens the door.
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman walks east.
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman closes the door from the other side.
You say, in sirihish:
"Tammani contacted me saying Lineah killed that child. I asked her who told her and she said that one of His Chosens."
You ask, in sirihish:
"That means one of His Chosens... Tenneshi... is talking to Runaktla, right?"
The pale, feral-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"The bard Tammani Konviwedu? Interesting."
Searching in her pockets, you say, in sirihish:
"I need some... food."
You get a cream-colored japuaar fruit from a hooded, kenku-embroidered greatcloak.
It is very light.
You eat part of a cream-colored japuaar fruit.
The pale, feral-eyed woman gets a carved alabaster bowl from a sturdy baobab desk.
The pale, feral-eyed woman puts a carved alabaster bowl on a sturdy baobab desk.
Gesturing to a sturdy baobab desk, the pale, feral-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"There is some fruit in the bowl, there, Ramon. Help yourself."
Frowning, you say, in sirihish:
"How she could eat only fruits? It's so annoying."
You get a carved alabaster bowl from a sturdy baobab desk.
It is very light, and about half full.
With a smile, you say to the pale, feral-eyed woman, in sirihish:
"Thank you, Chosen Ward."
You get a juicy ginka fruit from a carved alabaster bowl.
It is very light.
You put a carved alabaster bowl on a sturdy baobab desk.
Peering at your juicy ginka fruit, you ask, in sirihish:
"Nothing against fruits... but -only- fruits?"
Your mouth dances with delight, tingling all over.
You eat part of a juicy ginka fruit.
The pale, feral-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"It must be frustrating to you, Ramon."
Glancing at the doors, you ask, in sirihish:
"Should I wait with talking?"
With a deep sigh, you say to the pale, feral-eyed woman, in sirihish:
"She will not like to hear it. She sure will not like to hear it, that's Falka was so scared to tell anyone, you know? She is coward anyway."
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman opens the door from the other side.
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman has arrived from the east.
The spare, silvery-blonde templar has arrived from the east.
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman closes the door.
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman searches through a thornwood and leather keyring.
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman locks the door with a kenku-carved green key.
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman dips her head respectfully to the pale, feral-eyed woman and returns to her seat.
With a slow nod, glancing toward the door, the pale, feral-eyed woman asks you, in sirihish:
"But you are brave, Ramon. Not a coward like Falka, yes?"
With a bright smile, inclining her head, you say to the spare, silvery-blonde templar, in sirihish:
"Faithful Lady... I am glad to see you here."
The spare, silvery-blonde templar steps in with the bony, obsidian-eyed woman, the expressionless blue-grey of her eyes moving to you.
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman sits down at a sturdy baobab desk.
Waving her hand, you say to the pale, feral-eyed woman, in sirihish:
"I am brave and clever, but Faithful Lady still won't like to hear this without any proof."
The svelte, bald-headed woman moves aside as the bony, obsidian-eyed woman and the spare, silvery-blonde templar come in, dipping her head before returning to her stance in front of the door.
Dipping her head with a curious gesture, the spare, silvery-blonde templar says to you, in sirihish:
"What have you to tell me, brave one? You need not fear. I will listen."
With a sigh, you ask the spare, silvery-blonde templar , in sirihish:
"We talked... in that beautiful garden... and I said I will try to find more, right?"
Moving closer to a sturdy baobab desk and nodding, the spare, silvery-blonde templar says to you, in sirihish:
"Yes, we did. That was the day the Chosen Ward sent you to me."
You say to the spare, silvery-blonde templar , in sirihish:
"I found one more name... person who is in the Ivory, meeting members of the group."
Her eyes fixed on you, the pale, feral-eyed woman says to the spare, silvery-blonde templar , in sirihish:
"Ramon here was just telling us how he came to suspect that Chosen Lord Baladan Tenneshi is in league with magickers."
Nodding, rubbing her forehead for a moment, you ask, in sirihish:
"Right... right... that I did.... where I end?"
The spare, silvery-blonde templar starts to speak, her eyes sparked with interest until the pale, feral-eyed woman speaks and she suddenly goes silent, blinking rapidly in thought.
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman asks the spare, silvery-blonde templar , in sirihish:
"Yes, rather interesting no?"
In a sudden confusion, the short, raven-haired woman looks at the pale, feral-eyed woman.
The pale, feral-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Go on, Ramon...repeat what you said about a wind mage, and Kurac, and Tammani Konviwedu."
After a moment, gently, the spare, silvery-blonde templar says to you, in sirihish:
"These are very unusual accusations..Ramon. I understand you have no proof. It is understandable. But please tell all that you do know."
Snapping her fingers, you say, in sirihish:
"Ahh, right. This. Right."
You say, in sirihish:
"Runaktla killed Danu's son and told everyone else Lineah did it."
Lifting a finger to her lip and frowning, the spare, silvery-blonde templar asks you, in sirihish:
"Why would he do such a thing?"
Shrugging, you say, in sirihish:
"I don't know, Faithful Lady."
The spare, silvery-blonde templar sits down at a sturdy baobab desk.
You say, in sirihish:
"Tammani contacted me and told me that one of Tenneshi Chosens told her that Lineah is magicker and dangerous and that she killed Danu's son."
You say, in sirihish:
"So I suspected that one of Tenneshi Chosens in informed by Runaktla."
The pale, feral-eyed woman asks you, in sirihish:
"Why didn't you suspect Tammani?"
Nodding in thought, her eyes intent upon you, the spare, silvery-blonde templar asks you, in sirihish:
"And Runaktla told you the truth?"
Waving her hand, you say, in sirihish:
"That was just... beginning."
You say, in sirihish:
"Tammani... Runaktla didn't know Tammani, I am nearly sure."
The pale, feral-eyed woman leans back in her chair silently as the spare, silvery-blonde templar and you speak.
You say, in sirihish:
"I mean, he did not work for her."
Frowning and nodding slowly, the spare, silvery-blonde templar asks you, in sirihish:
"Go on, Falka. Is Runaktla actually dead now?"
The short, raven-haired woman pauses for a moment, looking at the spare, silvery-blonde templar.
Quietly, as if correcting herself, the spare, silvery-blonde templar says, in sirihish:
"Ramon."
Nodding, you say, in sirihish:
"I think he is. Darcina thinks the same."
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman asks you, in sirihish:
"Darcina?"
Blinking several times, the bony, obsidian-eyed woman asks you, in sirihish:
"You speak with Darcina?"
The short, raven-haired woman looks between the spare, silvery-blonde templar and the bony, obsidian-eyed woman.
Shifting her weight, you say, in sirihish:
"Erm... yes. I do."
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman shifts her whiteless eyes to the spare, silvery-blonde templar , then back on you.
Gently, her tone a soft lull, the spare, silvery-blonde templar asks you, in sirihish:
"Ramon, what does the Reborn Lord look like?"
With a smirk, you say, in sirihish:
"I don't know. I never saw him. I cannot ask like that, could I? But I am nearly sure Chosen Lord Baladan can give you this information."
Nodding her head, her tone still calm, the spare, silvery-blonde templar says to you, in sirihish:
"I understand. But if you could help me understand what led you to know this about the Chosen Lord? Even without proof."
With a sudden frown, you say, in sirihish:
"But I have no proof. I was trying to find a proof."
You say, in sirihish:
"Alright... as I said, Runaktla made me thinking... and after talking with him few more times, I became sure he is talking to Chosen Lord and even meeting him occasionally."
Frowning to herself as she listens, the spare, silvery-blonde templar asks you, in sirihish:
"Does Darcina speak to him?"
You ask, in sirihish:
"Serpent told me Runaktla works for the Defiler. Runaktla told me he works for the Defiler. Would someone clever and informed as Chosen Lord Baladan not see such an important fact?"
You say, in sirihish:
"I believe she does, but she never told me that openly."
You ask, in sirihish:
"For what Chosen Lord needed big and empty apartment?"
Blinking once more, the spare, silvery-blonde templar says to you, in sirihish:
"There are no furnishings there? "
The pale, feral-eyed woman nods lightly to the bony, obsidian-eyed woman.
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman pushes off of a white-carru hide, reclining easy chair and rises to her feet.
You say, in sirihish:
"There was nothing there, Faithful Lady. Well, same basic furniture. But nothing more."
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman dips her head respectfully to both the pale, feral-eyed woman and the spare, silvery-blonde templar before moving to the doorway.
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman searches through a thornwood and leather keyring.
The svelte, bald-headed woman steps aside as the bony, obsidian-eyed woman nears the door, her eyes on you.
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman unlocks the door with a kenku-carved green key.
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman opens the door.
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman walks east.
You ask, in sirihish:
"No personal things. Nothing. Isn't it strange?"
The bony, obsidian-eyed woman closes the door from the other side.
You say, in sirihish:
"So I asked Chosen Lord Baladan... I asked him if he is not scared to meet people he is meeting now."
Sighing and tapping her lips with one finger, the spare, silvery-blonde templar asks you, in sirihish:
"It is strange, Ramon. Do you think Serpent knows most of this, as well?"
Pausing in her words and gazing intently at you, the spare, silvery-blonde templar asks you, in sirihish:
"What did he say?"
Shaking her head, you say, in sirihish:
"No, Serpent doesn't know. Falka was too scared to tell anyone. She thought Reborn Lord would drag her out and fry her if he finds out that she knows."
The spare, silvery-blonde templar nods at you.
You say, in sirihish:
"He said that we have to meet. And he said his wife is ill and need some kind of flower."
Reaching up to run a hand through her piled curls, the spare, silvery-blonde templar asks you, in sirihish:
"When she gave birth...did you meet him?"
With a proud smile, you say, in sirihish:
"I found the flower. I made Serpent to bring the flower. I gave the flower to Chosen Lord. But he found different solution meanwhile."
Stroking her chin thoughtfully, the spare, silvery-blonde templar asks you, in sirihish:
"Ramon, how easy is it for you to take control and be brave for both of you?"
Looking at the spare, silvery-blonde templar with a smile, you say, in sirihish:
"Right now? Very easy. Falka is so scared. She is hidden. She thinks she disappointed. She is so... stupid."
Searching your face with her eyes, the spare, silvery-blonde templar asks you, in sirihish:
"And how do you feel about these magickers? They do not frighten you. What of Darcina? Do you think of her as a friend?"
The pale, feral-eyed woman gazes slowly between you and the spare, silvery-blonde templar , gloved hands clasped in her lap.
You say, in sirihish:
"Chosen Lord Baladan told me you are scared he is not safe... that he cannot do some things because he is watched by Lirathans so closely. That he even had to leave the apartment for it."
Shaking her head, you say, in sirihish:
"Magickers are not friends. They are dangerous because of curse in their minds. They are dangerous, but I am not scared of them, that's all. What could they do? Kill me? That's not enough to be scared."
Her eyes blinking slowly, more alert, the spare, silvery-blonde templar asks you, in sirihish:
"He said this to you? That he cannot do some things?"
Nodding, you say to the spare, silvery-blonde templar , in sirihish:
"Yes. That's what he said, yes."
Shrugging, you say, in sirihish:
"He also said he cannot meet me beause of that. But that's good, I don't want to meet him, do I? I just wanted some proof... find more information... that's all."
Waving her hand, you say, in sirihish:
"And Falka is so scared. Too easy nervous. She thinks she cannot come to you without proof, accusing one of His Chosens... she thinks she cannot tell own Chosens to not endanger them... because of the Defiler."
With a slow glance around the room, returning to you, the spare, silvery-blonde templar says to you, in sirihish:
"You have done well, Ramon. You serve the Ivory in this. Tell me, with Falka so weak and afraid, will you come with me to the safety of the Heart and stand for your city under our..."
The spare, silvery-blonde templar says to you, in sirihish:
"Under our protection within the Pyramid? Until this business is settled."
With a slight frown, you say, in sirihish:
"What if... what if magickers will try to hurt Chosens... now? I meant, I said this all and the Defiler will not like the fact they know."
Shaking her head solemnly, the spare, silvery-blonde templar says to you, in sirihish:
"He will not know. The Chosen Ward and Chosen Lady Vilacent will not tell anyone, and you know I will be careful and quiet, Ramon."
Glancing to the svelte, bald-headed woman, the pale, feral-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"We will be especially vigilant now, of course. Thank you for coming forward with this, Ramon. You did the right thing. You're very brave and wise."
Looking between the spare, silvery-blonde templar and the pale, feral-eyed woman, you say, in sirihish:
"If Chosen Ward thinks I should..."
The spare, silvery-blonde templar shifts her gaze to the pale, feral-eyed woman with a deferential nod.
With a nod, her voice gentle, the pale, feral-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Of course, Ramon. You are going to help serve the Ivory, and Winrothol, even further."
With a nod, you say, in sirihish:
"Then I should go... of course."
Thoughtfully, you say, in sirihish:
"Could I just take Coriolis from my office? He would be unhappy without me."
With a nod of encouragement, the spare, silvery-blonde templar asks you, in sirihish:
"You will be of great use to the Ivory amongst my Sisters, Ramon. Who is Coriolis?"
Curiously, the pale, feral-eyed woman asks you, in sirihish:
"Coriolis? Your bird?"
You ask, in sirihish:
"My falcon... yes. Could I take him?"
Nodding her head after a moment, the spare, silvery-blonde templar says to you, in sirihish:
"I see no reason why not. Though you should be cautious that it does not misbehave in the Pyramid."
With a smile, you say, in sirihish:
"He is good... and quiet... I will take care he will behave properly."
Stepping near the doors, you say, in sirihish:
"I will just take him... yes."
Quietly, standing from her chair, the spare, silvery-blonde templar says to you, in sirihish:
"A moment. I will go with you."
The spare, silvery-blonde templar pushes off of a white-carru hide, reclining easy chair and rises to her feet.
Glancing at the doors for a moment, you ask, in sirihish:
"We are locked, eh?"
The pale, feral-eyed woman pushes off of a white-carru hide, reclining easy chair and rises to her feet.
After a long pause, you say, in sirihish:
"I did not notice..."
As she moves to the door, reaching inside her cloak, the pale, feral-eyed woman says to the spare, silvery-blonde templar , in sirihish:
"Thank you for coming, Faithful Cousin."
The pale, feral-eyed woman gets a kenku-carved key from a hooded, silver fur greatcloak with jade embroidery.
The pale, feral-eyed woman gets a kenku-carved key from a hooded, silver fur greatcloak with jade embroidery.
The pale, feral-eyed woman gets a kenku-carved green key from a hooded, silver fur greatcloak with jade embroidery.
Turning to you, the pale, feral-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"And thank you for being brave for us, Ramon."
The pale, feral-eyed woman unlocks the door with a kenku-carved green key.
The pale, feral-eyed woman nods to the svelte, bald-headed woman, who steps aside.
The pale, feral-eyed woman opens the door.
You say to the pale, feral-eyed woman, in sirihish:
"I am sorry... for bringing troubles."
The spare, silvery-blonde templar falls in behind you.
The short, raven-haired woman bows her head to the pale, feral-eyed woman.
With a gentle smile, the pale, feral-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"You did right...Ramon."
woman salutes the svelte, bald-headed woman.
A Slender Hallway [ESWD]
The polished railing of the thick staircase ends here, opening into a
slender hallway. An enormous mural of bright mineral paint covers the
ceiling, depicting a riotous battle scene. The mural evidences a war
between Tuluki and Allanaki forces, the jade and black army being pushed
away from a ruined city. The painting exudes a prideful countenance, and is
painted to drape down towards the east and western doors. The sounds of the
foyer rise from below, echoing off the sturdy wooden walls that compose this
level.
The red-tressed short woman is sitting at the top of the stairs.
The barrel-chested woman stands here, looking about alertly.
The spare, silvery-blonde templar has arrived from the west.
*******
The spare, silvery-blonde templar enters a red-flecked pyramid of grey marble.
You enter a red-flecked pyramid of grey marble.
A Circular-Shaped Sanctuary [W]
Set in a circular shape, smooth black marble constructs the walls,
floor and ceiling of this room. Long banners depicting battle scenes hang
loosely on the wall, falling down and brushing against the floor. A small
altar has been constructed in the middle, with various markings etched into
the floor around it.
Torches flicker in the hallway to the west, and a wooden doorway leads
outside.
The spare, silvery-blonde templar is standing here.
The short, raven-haired woman glances over her shoulder with a nervous frown.
As she steps into the quiet room, the spare, silvery-blonde templar says to you, in sirihish:
"Few commoners ever pass these walls, Ramon. But this time you have permission from my Elder Sister, herself."
<84/84, 105/109, 95/95> <standing, walking, sirihish>
The spare, silvery-blonde templar walks west.
You follow the spare, silvery-blonde templar , and walk west.
A Torch-Lit Stone Hallway [EWU]
This hallway is quite narrow here. Its walls are constructed of dark
grey and smooth black stone, with numerous cracks and fungus filled holes on
them. Torches have been set within small obsidian holders along each side
of the hall, providing some light within the otherwise dark passage. A
small entryway lies to the east, and a winding staircase leads upwards
through the ceiling.
The hallway continues to the west.
The spare, silvery-blonde templar is standing here.
Looking at her for a moment, you ask the spare, silvery-blonde templar , in sirihish:
"Did she say if I could leave... later?"
With a blink of her blue-grey eyes, the spare, silvery-blonde templar says to you, in sirihish:
"I did not ask, Ramon. But we are not southrons, to murder our citizens at will. You need not fear as long as you remain loyal and strong."
With a sigh, you say to the spare, silvery-blonde templar , in sirihish:
"I am loyal... and strong... yes, I am."
The short-haired, jade-eyed templar has arrived from the west.
As she bows her head respectfully, the spare, silvery-blonde templar asks the short-haired, jade-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Elder Sister, this is Ramon...who is in control of Falka at the moment. Shall we retire to the garden to speak more? Or somewhere within?"
The short-haired, jade-eyed templar says, in sirihish:
"The sanctuary to the east will suffice..."
The spare, silvery-blonde templar nods her head and turns.
<84/84, 105/109, 95/95> <standing, walking, sirihish>
The short-haired, jade-eyed templar asks, in sirihish:
"Ramon... who is in control of Falka?"
The spare, silvery-blonde templar walks east.
The short-haired, jade-eyed templar walks east.
You follow the spare, silvery-blonde templar , and walk east.
A Circular-Shaped Sanctuary [W]
Set in a circular shape, smooth black marble constructs the walls,
floor and ceiling of this room. Long banners depicting battle scenes hang
loosely on the wall, falling down and brushing against the floor. A small
altar has been constructed in the middle, with various markings etched into
the floor around it.
Torches flicker in the hallway to the west, and a wooden doorway leads
outside.
The spare, silvery-blonde templar is standing here.
The short-haired, jade-eyed templar stands here, hands folded at her waist.
The short-haired, jade-eyed templar asks, in an unfamiliar tongue:
"Sja oo peisk sazsnyjfod au ysu pokm eip agygif?"
The short, raven-haired woman inclines her head to the short-haired, jade-eyed templar.
Shaking her head, the spare, silvery-blonde templar says to the short-haired, jade-eyed templar, in an unfamiliar tongue:
"Nu, Segoor. Ir en ik sjaeks rfa aj kry keekoo ygpixy potjeij."
The short-haired, jade-eyed templar asks the spare, silvery-blonde templar , in an unfamiliar tongue:
"Sgu ei ipbioy?"
With a solemn nod, the spare, silvery-blonde templar says to the short-haired, jade-eyed templar, in an unfamiliar tongue:
"I oikeoqo aa."
The short, raven-haired woman looks between the spare, silvery-blonde templar and the short-haired, jade-eyed templar.
Gesturing toward you, her tone gentle, the spare, silvery-blonde templar says to the short-haired, jade-eyed templar, in an unfamiliar tongue:
"Trub pohq ae syi..kroq Rieom..kgu hygyuoas ui hjheir ikw yos uyro ryvuhjopr."
Her voice controlled and calm, the short-haired, jade-eyed templar asks, in an unfamiliar tongue:
"I ziy.. jko oj oxsiqe ejq mohiygoh jre uh oza wiiqwa, yiy iscmy pof rose vowomdakq?"
The short-haired, jade-eyed templar asks, in an unfamiliar tongue:
"Aet rja et qaii peg qjis eeahak ejyey?"
Continuing with a calm nod, the spare, silvery-blonde templar says to the short-haired, jade-eyed templar, in an unfamiliar tongue:
"Yuq, Eokyq Suheup. Sma riyn. Sro poq agyshyysep iyrv iu soeio jho, i eajk eiojq aos rgo bgyokap Dyqoioa jkyk py luuh hoi. Asm..jra ojoaiej Czisis Lepg Bekaaug Tihjieue op kgoghis popg sgi Roiepk Leqo."
The short-haired, jade-eyed templar smiles at you.
The short-haired, jade-eyed templar asks you, in sirihish:
"Rabon is it?"
You say, in sirihish:
"Me? Ramon... Faithful Lady."
The short-haired, jade-eyed templar nods.
The short-haired, jade-eyed templar asks, in sirihish:
"Thank you Ramon... would you mind speaking to me about this?"
Rubbing her forehead, you say, in sirihish:
"I can talk about it... sure I can..."
Glancing at the spare, silvery-blonde templar , you say, in sirihish:
"But I don't know where to start."
Calmly, the short-haired, jade-eyed templar asks, in sirihish:
"Why don't you start at the beginning?"
The short-haired, jade-eyed templar smiles at you.
Gently, her expression calm, the spare, silvery-blonde templar says to you, in sirihish:
"My Elder Sister will help you, Ramon. There is nothing to fear. She is very smart."
You think:
"But where is beginning of this crap?"
The short-haired, jade-eyed templar asks, in sirihish:
"Tell me what led you to discover that the Chosen Lord works with the vile magickers?"
The short-haired, jade-eyed templar smiles reassuringly at you.
You say, in sirihish:
"Well... beginning... would be the day when Faithful Lord Kipol died."
The short-haired, jade-eyed templar nods, listening calmly.
Slightly narrowing her eyes, you say, in sirihish:
"I found out later we went out because of some magickers, one of those were Runaktla. The defiler known as Reborn Lord came there to safe those magickers and killed Faithful Lord. And did not kill me."
You say, in sirihish:
"That means, Runaktla belongs to the group of magickers led by Reborn Lord."
The short-haired, jade-eyed templar nods.
The short-haired, jade-eyed templar says, in sirihish:
"Indeed."
You say, in sirihish:
"Now... Runaktla works for Chosen Lord Baladan."
The short-haired, jade-eyed templar asks, in sirihish:
"And how do you know this?"
You say, in sirihish:
"Well, there was some information which Runaktla said to people he works with and which Tammani told me, saying she got the information from one of Tenneshi Chosens. And, I asked Serpent... who told me he introduced them."
The spare, silvery-blonde templar frowns, her brow knitting as she stares at the floor.
The short-haired, jade-eyed templar nods thoughtfully.
Rubbing her forehead, you say, in sirihish:
"I am not sure what I said already... and what I did not say... Serpent said he introduced Runaktla as member of the Echri circle, therefore Chosen Lord had to know it's magicker."
The short-haired, jade-eyed templar asks, in sirihish:
"Oh how distressing... you are so brave to bring this to us.. how long have you know this, you poor dear?"
You ask, in sirihish:
"How long... I am not sure I thought this is not important. I thought Chosen Lord asked Runaktla to kill one of southern templars. But now... Runaktla works with Defiler... that's bad, right?"
The short-haired, jade-eyed templar nods at you.
The short-haired, jade-eyed templar says, in sirihish:
"Yes.. that is very bad."
The spare, silvery-blonde templar nods solemnly to you.
You say, in sirihish:
"And Chosen Lord Baladan rent big apartment... which is all empty."
You say, in sirihish:
"And... I said Faithful Lady Eunoli I will find more information about Reborn Lord, right? I should have do something to do what I promised to do."
Gently, her head nodding, the spare, silvery-blonde templar says to you, in sirihish:
"You did, Ramon. You did."
The short-haired, jade-eyed templar says to the spare, silvery-blonde templar , in sirihish:
"So brave... so very brave"
Lifting her shoulders, you say, in sirihish:
"So I asked Chosen Lord... I asked him... that those people who he is meeting are very dangerous and if he is surely in safety."
You say, in sirihish:
"He asked what I meant... And I said that those people caused death of Faithful Lord... and he said we should meet."
The short-haired, jade-eyed templar asks, in sirihish:
"Who... the Chosen lord?"
You say, in sirihish:
"Chosen Lord Baladan Tenneshi."
You say, in sirihish:
"But then, his wife was ill. He needed that little flower, right? So I get the flower be brought from South for him. Falka was so scared. Terrible scared. She is coward."
The short-haired, jade-eyed templar smiles reassuringly at you.
You say, in sirihish:
"And I thought I need some proof, right? I cannot come saying one of His Chosens is dealing with magickers... without proof."
You say, in sirihish:
"I asked Chosen Lord... for something... and after it... he told me that Faithfuls are scared about his safety for some reason... saying he cannot do some things because is watched too closely."
The short-haired, jade-eyed templar says, in sirihish:
"You are doing very well, very well."
You say, in sirihish:
"So I thought I should wait a bit. What would Reborn Lord do if he finds that I know? He would surely do something nasty. And Falka is so scared, eh? So I thought I will wait."
Falling into silence, the short, raven-haired woman lowers her head.
With a sidelong glance to the short-haired, jade-eyed templar, the spare, silvery-blonde templar asks you, in sirihish:
"But now you have been brave, Ramon. And told the truth. You do not fear him?"
Quietly, you ask, in sirihish:
"We wasn't sure what to do. We did not want to lie to anyone... or conceal anything to our Chosens... but we could not tell them... with that shadow sneaking around... could we? Could we?"
Raising her head to look at her, you say to the short-haired, jade-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I am not scared of anything."
After a pause, you say, in sirihish:
"Well... maybe something... yes. I am scared he will hurt Chosens because I told them about this all."
Curiously, the spare, silvery-blonde templar asks you, in sirihish:
"Which Chosen?"
Looking between the spare, silvery-blonde templar and the short-haired, jade-eyed templar unhappily, you ask, in sirihish:
"Winrothol Chosens... Chosen Lady Vilacent and Chosen Ward... I told them about this all... and if he finds out, he will hurt them, wouldn't he?"
Soothingly, the short-haired, jade-eyed templar says, in sirihish:
"We will protect them."
Nodding to the short-haired, jade-eyed templar, the spare, silvery-blonde templar says to you, in sirihish:
"Have faith in the Faithful, Ramon."
The short-haired, jade-eyed templar says, in sirihish:
"Pardon me, I will go see to the defenses... my sister, Faithful Lady Eunoli will make sure they cannot harm you."
The short-haired, jade-eyed templar asks, in sirihish:
"Sister. Come with me a moment?"
Pausing and nodding her head, the spare, silvery-blonde templar says to you, in sirihish:
"Stay here a moment, please."
The spare, silvery-blonde templar stops leading the short, raven-haired woman.
The short, raven-haired woman nods her head.
The spare, silvery-blonde templar stops leading the short-haired, jade-eyed templar.
The short-haired, jade-eyed templar walks west.
The spare, silvery-blonde templar walks west.
The spare, silvery-blonde templar has arrived from the west.
With a soft smile as she returns, the spare, silvery-blonde templar says to you, in sirihish:
"Let us go outside to the garden. It is more comfortable there."
You now follow the spare, silvery-blonde templar (Faithful Eunoli).
The spare, silvery-blonde templar leaves a red-flecked pyramid of grey marble.
You step out to...
Within Piory's Yard [NESW]
The saplings of purple and grey-barked trees are no match to the sheer
height of the marble pyramid that dominates this yard. Standing with an
enormous stature, the pyramid's greyish marble walls elegantly taper up to a
statue-tipped point. Scattered around the base of the pyramid are various
beds of lush blossoms, their colors appearing vibrantly-hued in contrast
with the dreary building. Just near the wooden gateway to the pyramid, a
lush strip of rosebushes sprawl towards the door.
A gigantic, grey-marble pyramid overshadows the rest of the yard.
The spare, silvery-blonde templar is standing here.
The prodigious, purple-skinned half-giant soldier looms on duty here.
A bulging, wide-lipped man sits toying with some needles.
A Jihaen slave stands here, caring for the plants.
The braided, hook-nosed templar is standing here.
With a glance upward as she leaves, the spare, silvery-blonde templar says to the prodigious, purple-skinned half-giant soldier, in sirihish:
"Walk with us, Gingin. It will make Ramon feel more at home."
The spare, silvery-blonde templar calls to the prodigious, purple-skinned half-giant soldier for aid, and she strides to her side.
The spare, silvery-blonde templar walks north.
The prodigious, purple-skinned half-giant soldier walks north.
You follow the spare, silvery-blonde templar , and walk north.
Amidst a Thriving Garden [ESW]
Pymlithe saplings are planted in variegated rows along this tight
strip of the garden. Nearly all of the flora that thrives within the
surrounding area seems to be in the earliest stages of their growth. The
vividly-colored blossoms of the roses strewn about are on the brink of
spreading open, though each stem's jade hue stands out stiffly above the
flowerbed. A few rounded slabs of red sandstone create a path throughout
the underlying greb grass' dark violet cascade.
A section of the garden has been cleared just beneath a sapling, where
a much softer gesra grass grows. The black grass is shaded by a parasol
which is implanted into the ground beside the tiny tree.
A small parasol casts a long shadow across the ground.
A small tree, covered with gracefully drooping flowers, stretches towards the sun.
The spare, silvery-blonde templar is standing here.
The prodigious, purple-skinned half-giant soldier looms on duty here.
Quietly, you ask, in sirihish:
"Did we do any mistake?"
The spare, silvery-blonde templar is gone just one second..sorry..be right back.
Blinking her soft, blue-grey eyes at your words, the spare, silvery-blonde templar says to you, in sirihish:
"No. You did very well, Ramon. I am very pleased."
The short, raven-haired woman slowly nods her head.
Curiously watching you, the spare, silvery-blonde templar asks you, in sirihish:
"Is it both of you again now? Or just Ramon?"
With a sudden smile, you say, in sirihish:
"Good. I hate to make mistakes. I don't make many, but I hate even those few."
Shaking her head, you say, in sirihish:
"You said you want me to stay, no? I will make Falka sleep. She is just nervous. She is silly."
With a nod of her head, holding out her hand, the spare, silvery-blonde templar says to you, in sirihish:
"My Elder Sister gave me a tablet for you to take. She says it will help Falka to be as brave as you, so that you may both stay."
Solemnly, the spare, silvery-blonde templar says to you, in sirihish:
"I need you here. You are the strong one. But I must ask her some questions, as well."
Pursing her lips thoughtfully, you say, in sirihish:
"I can wake her, if you really want to."
Nodding and holding out her hand, the spare, silvery-blonde templar says to you, in sirihish:
"Swallow this first. My Elder Sister is very, very wise and if she says it will help, it will."
The spare, silvery-blonde templar gives you a powdery black tablet.
Looking at your powdery black tablet suspiciously, you say, in sirihish:
"Mhmmm... alright... alright."
You swallow a powdery black tablet.
A darkness creeps at the edge of your vision.
You feel slightly dizzy and the room seems to spin.
The short, raven-haired woman blinks couple of times.
Quietly, watching you, the spare, silvery-blonde templar says to you, in sirihish:
"Are you alright, Ramon? Sit."
A darkness creeps at the edge of your vision.
Your vision goes black.
Someone nods to someone, her voice quiet.
Your head clears and your eyes flutter open.
The prodigious, purple-skinned half-giant soldier chops your head, doing frightening damage.
Your vision goes black.
Continue Reading...A promise by Kelen
Added on Mar 23, 2007A tor scorpion reflects on a promise he made, in his final moments during the copper war.
Kazar wrenched an arrow out of his shoulder, and hefted his shield a bit higher. He shook his dark bangs from his view, and gazed down at his foot for a moment, from which an arrow protruded.This tall, black-haired man’s scorpion emblazoned vest was completely covered in blood, and he drew in labored breaths, clenching his sword in his hand tightly. He gazed all around him, and knew, he had finally come to and end.
He glanced back over his shoulder, seeing a barrel-chested, dark-curled man on his kank, riding hard west. Behind the mounted figure, a large force trailed closely, kicking up sand in their wake. The open barrens of the red desert sprawled on endlessly, except for a dim line of the cliffs to the far east.
Kazar gazed at them for a long moment, he had wanted to go with them, and follow the scorpion banner back to camp. Then follow it home, to fulfill his promise. But he knew his duty, to his lord and house, and was resolved to follow through. Then he narrowed his gaze, swiveling his head to stare east again.
Coming in his direction, was a large party of soldiers, tuluki soldiers. From what Kazar had made out as they fired arrows in his direction, there were almost two full units, plus a large scouting party. At their head, a red-garbed Jihaen templar rode on his mount. They were still out of arrow range, and kazar closed his eyes as his vision blurred a bit, trying to steady himself. He tried to remember his training, his home, his friends. He began to remember some of his earlier training, even smirking slightly.
“This isn’t the Kazar show!” A tall, blonde-haired woman shouted, holding her arm tightly as it bled. Kazar stepped back, lowering his training sword, and grinned a bit. The woman scowled, stepping out of the sparring ring as well.
“I know, Janna.” Kazar said, seeming careless, and rather content with himself.
“You think you’re some kind of hotshot!? Just because you can best one of your superiors!? I don’t care how good you are, if you don’t know your place in the field, if you -CAN’T- follow orders, you’re doing no good to the unit! You want to do something stupid? Be a hero!? Your going to die!” Janna said angrily, staring hard at Kazar.
Kazar remained quiet, and left the chamber without another word, deep in thought. He nodded at a pony-tailed man, garbed in a smoky grey cloak, the same as him, as he exited the marble training chamber. The man smiled a bit, and nodded.
“Hey Kazar…I think were moving out soon. Want to head to the barrel for awhile…?” The pony-tailed man asked quietly, walking along beside Kazar now as he headed down the hallway quickly.
“Sure…Sure Faold, I have to say goodbye to Lune anyway…” Kazar said quietly, seeming a bit agitated.
Kazar’s mind faded back into the present, and the enemy force didn’t seem to have drawn any closer. He looked over his shoulder again, and for some reason, it seemed the Tor force behind him was drawing closer, perhaps even coming back for him.
Kazar wiped a thin trail of blood from the side of his mouth with his cloak sleeve, and saw a moment of hesitation in the barrel-chested man’s eyes, even from the huge distance between them.
Kazar mustered all the strength he could, raising his voice to a shout.
“GO! Now!” Kazar shouted loudly, he took a few more breaths, his arrow wounds burning now. The barrel-chested man turned after a lingering moment, and headed off west with the force again. Kazar turned back east, his legs growing heavy.
His mind faded back into memory, easing the pain of his wounds as he waited.
Kazar sat atop a kank, staring intently at a war-braided figure on a war beetle near him. The man before him held a three-fingered rapier, and seemed to be deep in thought.
Another scorpion armored man with pitch hair near him muttered quietly.
‘There were five or six of them…I felt it best to pull back, warlord.” The man said. The warlord nodded, and gestured to a group of Tor soldiers behind him, as well as an Allanaki half-giant.
“On me, we will search them out.” The man said, riding to the head of the group, heading east. The sprawling surround of black and green tents, as well as hundreds of soldiers, was the Allanaki main camp.
“My lord, please allow me to ride ahead and find them, surely they will flee once they see our force, perhaps I can catch them at unawares while you lead the main force.” Kazar said quickly, speaking before the dapper, spice-locked young man that was riding towards them spoke.
The warlord nodded, and Kazar set off immediately, riding hard east. The last words he caught were from the dapper, spice-locked young man: “Oh my, I had best get my sword then, I will join you, Warlord Kharad.”
Kazar smirked, his mind racing. He felt it almost a joke that a fale noble would join in the fight, but knew to keep his thoughts to himself. Scattered dunes past by Kazar as he raced, and finally something caught his eye, and he reeled his kank to a halt.
Far to the south, just within sight, Kazar saw a group of tuluki scouts fighting a single allanaki scout. Kazar gritted his teeth, his mind finding his warlord’s right away. Words were not needed, Kazar’s connection was strong enough to imply that he had found the enemy, and that his lord must make haste.
Kazar sat for what seemed like ever, trying to hold himself back form rushing to his comrades aid. But he knew, even if he went now, that himself –and- the scout would die.
After a few more moments, as the bloody allanaki fell, Kharad rode up, the fale noble at his side, with the half-giant and a Tor force.
Kharad gazed south, and frowned, nodding to Kazar. He spurred his War beetle on, shouting loudly.
“Form up, Let’s get that half-giant moving! CHARGE!”
Kazar shot off, flying up along with the half-giant as it lumbered across the sand to the south, shouting loudly. The main force lagged behind a bit, while the half-giant and himself surged across the dune.
“Raaaaaaarrrrghhh!” The half-giant roared, and startled the un-suspecting tuluki scouts. A black-haired tuluki scout scrambled for his kank, and kazar set his sights on him. The half-giant chased the other enemies, who merely urged their kanks on eastwards, fleeing the fight.
The black-haired tuluki turne , and drew his blades, ready for Kazar’s attack. Kazar’s blood boiled, passing one of his fallen soldiers, and he locked blades with the scout, gritting his teeth. The tuluki glared at him, and drew his blade back, turning his mount to face the eastern horizon.
Kazar frowned, knowing he was going to run, and swung his blade inwards, trying to knock the scout of his kank. The tuluki was too agile, and dodged the swing, riding hard east, escaping a certain death.
Kazar stared for a long moment at the eastern cliffs, knowing that somewhere inside, the enemy army lurked, and gave up the pursuit.
Kazar opened his eyes again, slightly surprised at how close the enemy force was now. They were not thirty yards from him, and an arrow flew into his shield. Kazar glanced over his shoulder one last time, and saw that his lord and company were nearly out of sight.
Lune…I’m glad you can’t be here to see this…I can only hope the others can protect you…I no longer can.
Kazar’s thoughts were cut off abruptly by his pursuit.
“Take him alive, if you can.” A cool voice echoed from the east now. The scorpion turned his attention to the speaker, and saw the main unit and the Jihaen halt, regarding Kazar carefully. A handful of soldiers rode forth, following a regal, flaxen-tressed woman closely.
Kazar hefted his shield up, mustering what courage and strength he had left. He had known this might happen. They had been scouting the enemie’s southern gate, and they had been found. Now it was Kazar’s job to set it right. This couldn’t end in his lord and his allies being killed or captured.
No more arrows flew at him, and the riders before him dismounted, staying behind the regal woman. She nodded, and a black-haired tuluki, along with an izdari-inked man, drew their blades and came forward at Kazar.
Kazar smirked at the black-haired Tuluki, recognizing him instantly. The man scowled at his defiant features, rushing forward.
“Death to the servants of the highlord!” The black-haired man shouted, almost upon Kazar now. Kazar slid his right foot back, raising his voice.
“For the highlord!” He yelled, sliding under a broad sword swing. Kazar cut up, catching his enemies vest, tearing it open. The izdari-inked soldier reached him, stabbing in from the other side, Kazar turned, driving his shield into his knees, and threw him on his back.
Kazar spit out a clot of blood, and slashed the black-haired soldier two more times in a furious attack, and the man retreated back to the woman, leaving the izdari inked man on his own.
“This far…and no further…” Kazar panted tiredly, slamming his blade against the inked man’s, sending him staggering to the side. The man lunged in sloppily, and Kazar landed four fierce blows on him quickly. The woman rushed forward now, a spiky-haired soldier at her side, and frowned in anger.
“You are dead!” She yelled, and stopped for a moment as Kazar landed another blow against the inked man, who was staggering back now, bleeding heavily.
“Fall back!” She shouted, trying to draw Kazar’s attention. Kazar whirled, trying to stay focused. His wounds ached horribly, and he lashed his foot out at the woman. As he did so, another arrow flew into his chest, and the tor stumbled back, grimacing.
The flaxen-tressed woman slashed kazar’s side as he lingered, but was caught by his blade as he turned on her in anger.
Everything faded, before Kazar, as shouts of “Take him alive!” Quickly reverted to; “Kill him! Kill him!” The fight dragged on, the scorpion fighting desperately now, resigned to fate.
“You will come back...? Promise me?” The young, amethyst-eyed woman asked softly. Kazar stood on the tavern’s balcony, staring out at the street below, the delicate woman in his arms.
“You know I will.”
The words echoed softly in Kazar’s mind. He gritted his teeth, dropping to his knees as the blonde soldier drove a dagger into his back. Now the force continued past him, and he fell face forward into the sand. His final thoughts didn’t linger on failure, but on his home, and on his love. He broke two promises, one to Janna, that he would not die, and another, that he would return home. But then Kharad’s words filled his head, and he had no regrets in the end.
“We make promises such as these, to keep anxiety from our home. There is yet hope this way. Would you rather stay behind, and enjoy your love, only to let the enemy come and take her, or would you rather leave, and fight, in hopes that they never reach her?”
Farewell…Sweet Lune…
Kazar wrenched an arrow out of his shoulder, and hefted his shield a bit higher. He shook his dark bangs from his view, and gazed down at his foot for a moment, from which an arrow protruded.This tall, black-haired man’s scorpion emblazoned vest was completely covered in blood, and he...
Continue Reading...Savvyn Gets Worked by James de Monet
Added on Mar 23, 2007Entering a bar: Worst case scenario. [Note: I editted out the sdesc of one character, just to be on the safe side.]
[The story begins as Savvyn, the lean, young-looking man, wanders into the Barrel. He is wearing a hooded, black sandcloth longcloak, with the hood pulled up against the breeze.]
The Main Room of the Bard's Barrel [NSW]
A wall here is designated as a message board.
The short figure in a hooded, ebony cloak is sitting at a boxy wooden bar.
The sullen-looking, orange-eyed girl is sitting at a broad table of scarred agafari wood.
The svelte, sable-haired woman is sitting at a broad table of scarred agafari wood.
The rotund, half-giant soldier stands here.
The rakish, sable-haired templar is sitting at a broad table of scarred agafari wood.
The bald, net-patterned half-giant is sitting here.
The -censored- man is sitting at a wobbly baobab table.
The young, raven-haired lass is standing here.
A lean, spike-haired elf drums softly in the corner.
A lean, grey-eyed bard leans against the stage.
A tall, amber-eyed woman polishes glasses at the bar.
The husky, weatherworn dwarf relaxes at a table here, clay mug in hand.
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.
"Horror!"
The bald, net-patterned half-giant gets up and stands to his feet.
The svelte, sable-haired woman looks up at you a moment.
The short figure in a hooded, ebony cloak turns his head casually.
The short figure in a hooded, ebony cloak looks up at you.
The -censored- man looks up at you.
The svelte, sable-haired woman says to the bald, net-patterned half-giant, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Kerrik, sit down."
The bald, net-patterned half-giant bounds over to you.
The rakish, sable-haired templar looks at the short figure in a hooded, ebony cloak.
The bald, net-patterned half-giant charges at you and knocks you over.
The short figure in a hooded, ebony cloak shakes his head.
The rakish, sable-haired templar looks at you.
The bald, net-patterned half-giant bludgeons your body, inflicting a grievous wound.
You're now wanted!
The bald, net-patterned half-giant swiftly dodges your hit.
The bald, net-patterned half-giant parries your attack.
The sullen-looking, orange-eyed girl looks up at you with a glance over.
The svelte, sable-haired woman pushes off of a rickety agafari wood chair and rises to her feet.The rakish, sable-haired templar pushes off of a rickety agafari wood chair and rises to her feet.
The sullen-looking, orange-eyed girl pushes off of a rickety agafari wood chair and rises to her feet.The svelte, sable-haired woman draws a jade-emblazoned, obsidian longsword.
The rakish, sable-haired templar says to the bald, net-patterned half-giant, in southern-accented sirihish:
"BREAK"37/6>
Scowling, the short figure in a hooded, ebony cloak says, in rinthi-accented sirihish:
"Fek..."
The bald, net-patterned half-giant bludgeons your body, doing frightening damage.
Your vision goes black.-5/0>
Someone takes a heavy breath, peering down at you in bewilderment.
Someone watches in horror as the man drops... his jaw nearly hitting the floor.
Someone backs away from the fighting.
Someone moves over to you, crouching down.
Someone stands to his feet.
Someone wraps one hand around her medallion of Tektolnes, calling upon the grace of the Highlord.
Someone blinks a few times dumbly, sheathing his weapon.
Someone slowly approaches the entryway, looking down at you.
A warm feeling fills you, as wounds close all over your body.
The sullen-looking, orange-eyed girl looks up at you slowly.
The rakish, sable-haired templar rises, offering a hand to you.
The figure in a hooded, black sandcloth longcloak draws a ragged breath, his back arching off the floor.
The rakish, sable-haired templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"My private mistook you for one of the undead."
The short figure in a hooded, ebony cloak licks his lips as he watches intently from the outskirts of the gathered crowd.
The short figure in a dark, hooded cloak has arrived from the north.
The tall figure in a hooded, ebony cloak has arrived from the north.
The rakish, sable-haired templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"You might want to consider keeping your hood lowered."
The olive, wine-haired young woman lowers the hood of a dark, hooded cloak.
The olive, wine-haired young woman bows to the rakish, sable-haired templar.
The rakish, sable-haired templar says to the svelte, sable-haired woman, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Get him out of here and deal with it."
The olive, wine-haired young woman remains silent near the tall figure in a hooded, ebony cloak.
The sullen-looking, orange-eyed girl looks up at the tall figure in a hooded, ebony cloak as she slowly raises her head.
Sharply, the svelte, sable-haired woman says to the bald, net-patterned half-giant, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Lets go, private.. NOW."
You say to the rakish, sable-haired templar, in sirihish:
"Many thanks, my Lady."
The short figure in a hooded, ebony cloak returns to his seat.
The short figure in a hooded, ebony cloak sits down at a boxy wooden bar.
The svelte, sable-haired woman turns to walk from the tavern, lips curved in a faint scowl.
The svelte, sable-haired woman walks north.
The bald, net-patterned half-giant walks north.
The rakish, sable-haired templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"My men are on edge, patrolling the city each night and dealing with attacks from those elves. The private is... a giant. He knows only to protect the city"
The figure in a hooded, black sandcloth longcloak bows to the rakish, sable-haired templar trembling only a little.
The olive, wine-haired young woman looks up at you.
The Main Room of the Bard's Barrel [NSW]
A wall here is designated as a message board.
The tall figure in a hooded, ebony cloak is standing here.
The olive, wine-haired young woman is standing here.
The short figure in a hooded, ebony cloak is sitting at a boxy wooden bar.
The sullen-looking, orange-eyed girl is standing here.
The rotund, half-giant soldier stands here.
The rakish, sable-haired templar is standing here.
The -censored- man is sitting at a wobbly baobab table.
The young, raven-haired lass is standing here.
A lean, spike-haired elf drums softly in the corner.
A lean, grey-eyed bard leans against the stage.
A tall, amber-eyed woman polishes glasses at the bar.
The husky, weatherworn dwarf relaxes at a table here, clay mug in hand.
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 young, raven-haired lass slowly moves back to her table, her eyes wide.
The young, raven-haired lass sits down at a round, blue-painted table.
82/0>
The rakish, sable-haired templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"In times like these, when the enemy is known for wearing cloaks like yours, and hiding within the shadows of their hoods, it might be wise to not.. emulate them"
The rakish, sable-haired templar says to the tall figure in a hooded, ebony cloak, in southern-accented sirihish:
"My militia are not the only ones on edge of late."
You say to the rakish, sable-haired templar, in sirihish:
"I can only heartily agree, my Lady."
You lower the hood of a hooded, black sandcloth longcloak.
The rakish, sable-haired templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"By his grace, you are healed. Walk in HIS shadow."
The sullen-looking, orange-eyed girl stands quietly near the rakish, sable-haired templar, glancing over momentarily to the tall figure in a hooded, ebony cloak and the olive, wine-haired young woman.
You are using:
<worn on head> a new scrab-shell helmet
<worn around neck> a new duskhorn collar
<worn across back> a shoulder pack
<worn on torso> a bloodied, sueded duskhorn leather tunic
<worn on arms> a new pair of tied leather vambraces
<worn around wrist> a new duskhorn bracer
<worn around wrist> a new duskhorn bracer
<worn on hands> a new pair of black leather gloves
<worn on right finger> an etched obsidian band
<worn on left finger> an obsidian and jade ring
<worn as belt> a finely-crafted pouched belt
<hung from belt> a small leather pouch
<hung from belt> a heavy bladed bone jambiya
<worn around body> a hooded, black sandcloth longcloak
<worn about waist> a shell-buckled black leather belt
<worn on legs> a pair of tailored black leather pants
<worn on feet> a pair of knee-high dark leather boots
The hulking broad-shouldered man has arrived from the south.
82/0>
You hear a man's voice shout from the north in sirihish:
"I see you hiding over there!"
You say to the rakish, sable-haired templar, in sirihish:
"By His grace, but by your hand, and for that, I thank you."
You hear a man's voice shout from the north in sirihish:
"There! Look! They are coming for me, see them?"
The rakish, sable-haired templar arches an eyebrow, glancing toward the doorway.
The -censored- man glances up briefly.
The hulking broad-shouldered man bows deeply before the rakish, sable-haired templar.
The rakish, sable-haired templar rolls her eyes as she starts for the doorway.
The rakish, sable-haired templar walks north.
The rotund, half-giant soldier walks north.
The sullen-looking, orange-eyed girl walks north.
The hulking broad-shouldered man sits down at a boxy wooden bar.
The olive, wine-haired young woman peers outside the tavern a moment.
The lean, young-looking man runs his hands over his chest as if to reassure himself that he is, in fact, alive.
The short figure in a hooded, ebony cloak looks up at you as he licks his lips.
The hulking broad-shouldered man stops using a new gith-skull helm.
The hulking broad-shouldered man runs his hand through his long black hair.
The hulking broad-shouldered man places a new gith-skull helm on his head.
The lean, young-looking man fingers the stains on your bloodied, sueded duskhorn leather tunic, shaking his head, eyes wide.
The hulking broad-shouldered man pushes off of a stone-seated stool and rises to his feet.
The -censored- man says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"I thought you were a dead man..."
The hulking broad-shouldered man walks north.
You say to the -censored- man, in sirihish:
"I KNOW I was..."
The stocky, powder-streaked man has arrived from the north.
The short figure in a hooded, ebony cloak looks up at the tall figure in a hooded, ebony cloak as he glances about.
The -censored- man watches you for a moment and nods.
The -censored- man pushes off of a ladder-backed agafari chair and rises to his feet.
As he crosses the room, the -censored- man asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"But you're ok now?"
The short figure in a hooded, ebony cloak drinks ale from a miniature barrel.
The hulking broad-shouldered man has arrived from the north.
The short figure in a hooded, ebony cloak eats a small portion of a mekillot steak.
The tall figure in a hooded, ebony cloak walks west.
The olive, wine-haired young woman walks west.
The stocky, powder-streaked man pushes towards a boxy wooden bar, pallid grey eyes flickering around within his new crimson-winged greathelm's ornate visage.
You say to the -censored- man, in sirihish:
"Ah...seeming, for the most part, yes...I think I might sit down, though..."
The stocky, powder-streaked man sits down at a boxy wooden bar.
The hulking broad-shouldered man says, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Trouble on the Caravan north of Here."
The hulking broad-shouldered man points top the north.
The lean, young-looking man moves to sit on the floor, falling only a little as his knees give way.
The stocky, powder-streaked man pushes off of a stone-seated stool and rises to his feet.
You sit down and rest your tired bones.
The hulking broad-shouldered man runs north.
Nodding once, the -censored- man says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Better luck in the future..."
The -censored- man walks west.
The stocky, powder-streaked man walks north.
The Main Room of the Bard's Barrel [NSW]
A wall here is designated as a message board.
The short figure in a hooded, ebony cloak is sitting at a boxy wooden bar.
The young, raven-haired lass is sitting at a round, blue-painted table.
A lean, spike-haired elf drums softly in the corner.
A lean, grey-eyed bard leans against the stage.
A tall, amber-eyed woman polishes glasses at the bar.
The husky, weatherworn dwarf relaxes at a table here, clay mug in hand.
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.
[Savvyn takes a moment to catch his breath after his narrow scrape with death. After a few minutes, he stands, with a disbelieving smile and a new spring in his step. He walks out of the tavern and into the wide world, the sun seeming to shine a little brighter, if that was possible. The one little thing Savvyn doesn’t think about is that he didn’t receive a formal pardon from the templar…and a whole lot of people saw him fighting with a Militia soldier… He takes two steps out the door before an overwrought member of the Arm puts a blade through his heart and he chokes out his last breath in the street, lying in his blood like a dog. Welcome to Armageddon.][The story begins as Savvyn, the lean, young-looking man,
wanders into the Barrel. He is wearing a
hooded, black sandcloth longcloak, with the hood pulled up against the breeze.]
The Criminal, part VI: "Kill me, or let me go." by Ghost
Added on Mar 23, 2007Staying in a foreign city started to show its unpleasant face. Sophie could not get to talk to anyone. Nor did Serpent have much of a control over his organisation in the Labyrinth. Returning and starting everything again, started to show its sweet face. And after about a month of time, Serpent decided it was time to take the risk and return.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Submitter's note:
Staying in a foreign city started to show its unpleasant face. Sophie could not get to talk to anyone. Nor did Serpent have much of a control over his organisation in the Labyrinth. Returning and starting everything again, started to show its sweet face. And after about a month of time, Serpent decided it was time to take the risk and return.
P.S: I have edited the log many times, deleting some passages of conversations, mindtalks, and some emotes and I have also replaced some names/actions as **censored** to avoid passing some information that better kept as it is. I hope you find it a good read.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Sun King's Sanctuary [NESWUD]
A polished, white marble floor covers the ground of this expansive
room, gleaming under the light of a large glass chandelier that hangs
overhead. A semi-circular bar, made of hard-grained wood painted a deep
black, extends from the eastern wall, several high-backed barstools sitting
around it. The walls of this room are brightly decorated, with several
elaborate paintings placed carefully for unobstructed view, and shelves
holding many exotic potted plants, blooming with bright red and white
flowers. Two large stained-glass windows, decorated with elaborate sun
symbols, adorn the northwest and southeast corners of the room.
Several decoratively carved tables fill this room, while a polished
leather couch nearly ten cords in length sprawls along the northern wall. A
stately spiral staircase sits in the center of the room, winding upwards
toward the common rooms of the second floor. The sounds of laughter and
music can be heard from a doorway along the western wall, while the scents
of cooked meat waft in from the east. A small, straight stairway sits along
the northern wall, ending at a slightly raised loft and a large carven
baobab door sits in the southern wall, leading out onto the North Road
outside.
The Tuluk bulletin board is here propped up on a stand.
The tiny, copper-skinned, auburn-haired woman moves easily from table to table.
The svelte, loreshi-tressed woman is standing here.
The short figure in a black, moonstone-buttoned cloak is standing here.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier is standing here.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is sitting at a highly polished table.
A human Tuluki soldier is here, patrolling.
The auburn, charm-tasseled man is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The sharp-featured human soldier flanks the silver-haired templar.
The spare, silvery-blonde templar is sitting at a highly polished table.
The umber-skinned, azure-eyed man stands here attentively.
The prodigious, purple-skinned half-giant soldier looms on duty here.
The short haired, heavy-set man stands here mug in-hand.
The tall, well-groomed man sits here on a plush couch.
The gaunt, black-haired man is here, leaning on the bar.
The long-haired, middle-aged man stands behind the counter.
Passing a highly polished table, the svelte, loreshi-tressed woman inclines her head to the table's
occupants and smilesa.
<95/95 114/124 101/101 - walking >listen on
You are already listening.
Noticing a crowd of soldiers around a highly polished table, the short figure in a black,
moonstone-buttoned cloak inclines her head deeply, then continues toward a black-painted bar.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the sleek, honey-eyed young woman with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the sleek, honey-eyed young woman:
"Getting ready for the trip?"
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman sends you a telepathic message:
"I am, and I see you. Silence and I are getting along well."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Dawn?"
You ask the sleek, honey-eyed young woman, in sirihish:
"You think I should call our escort for the trip or should it wait?"
You say to the sleek, honey-eyed young woman, in sirihish:
"Hmm.. daybreak is a good timing indeed."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the sinewy, bald-headed man with the Way.
Nodding lightly as she shifts on a saffron-colored kank, the sleek, honey-eyed young woman asks
you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Have anything you need me to gather in preparation?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the sinewy, bald-headed man:
"Good day Kot. You think we can set for the trip at tomorrow daybreak?"
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The sinewy, bald-headed man sends you a telepathic message:
"Should be an easy trip, then. Bring water and food."
Her torso wrapped in a linen sling holding a blond-haired baby, the sleek, honey-eyed young woman
steps to a small white stone bench.
Leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek, the sleek, honey-eyed young woman whispers to you in
sirihish:
"I'm going to go get everything from the apartment, love."
Slipping an arm around your shoulders, the sleek, honey-eyed young woman whispers to you in
sirihish:
"Mmm, I bought some rations, I'll cook with the rest of the supplies we have. I'll be changing
clothes, as well."
Before releasing her grip on you, the sleek, honey-eyed young woman squeezes your shoudler with her
arm.
Bobbing his head, you say to the sleek, honey-eyed young woman, in
sirihish:
"Alright. Sounds good."
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman walks south.
You think:
"Wonder how it will be like to be in Allanak again."
It is dusk on Dzeda, the 42nd day of the Ascending Sun,
In the Year of King's Defiance, year 19 of the 21st Age.
You think:
"Nearly the day is going down. Little time till the dawn."
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman has arrived from the south.
Wiping sweat from her brow, the sleek, honey-eyed young woman sighs as she lower sonto a small
white stone bench.
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman sits on a small white stone bench.
At your seat, the sleek, honey-eyed young woman says in southern-accented sirihish, settling her
sizeable leather backpack in her lap:
"This is heavy."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the robust, crimson-eyed man:
"I will most probably make my trip to south this week, Faithful Lord. Just wanted to say it."
You dissolve the psychic link.
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Evening."
At your seat, the obsidian-skinned woman says in southern-accented sirihish, nodding slowly:
"Evening."
At your seat, the obsidian-skinned woman says in southern-accented sirihish, shaking her head:
"There is something going on around here..."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"What is it?"
At your seat, the obsidian-skinned woman says in southern-accented sirihish:
"I don't know... bugs disappearing..."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, blinking in surprise:
"What?"
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman has arrived from the north.
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman sits on a small white stone bench, settling next to you.
At your seat, the obsidian-skinned woman says in southern-accented sirihish, shaking her head:
"I think I just need a bit of rest."
At your seat, the sleek, honey-eyed young woman says in southern-accented sirihish, dipping her
head to the obsidian-skinned woman:
"Hello, Ferris."
At your seat, the obsidian-skinned woman says in southern-accented sirihish, to the sleek,
honey-eyed young woman:
"Evening, Sophie."
At your seat, the sleek, honey-eyed young woman says in southern-accented sirihish, tilting her
head at the obsidian-skinned woman:
"What's the matter?"
At your seat, the obsidian-skinned woman says in southern-accented sirihish, surveying the area:
"I've been seeing things.... then they'd disappear."
At your seat, the sleek, honey-eyed young woman says in southern-accented sirihish, her brows
lifting a bit:
"What.. kind of things?"
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"You took spice or something?"
The obsidian-skinned woman shakes her head.
Giving an irritated grunt, the sleek, honey-eyed young woman squeezes her eyes shut.
At your seat, the sleek, honey-eyed young woman says in southern-accented sirihish, lifting a
hand to touch her head:
"Been awhile since I've felt that."
At your seat, the obsidian-skinned woman says in southern-accented sirihish, shaking her head:
"The tempalars kicked me out of the tavern, because it happened. They were going to do it
anyway."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, quietly:
"A little more quiet on that."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Remember.. We are all foreigners here."
At your seat, the sleek, honey-eyed young woman says in southern-accented sirihish, squinting an
eye open:
"What did you see, Ferris?"
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman is gone just a second..
The sinewy, bald-headed man sends you a telepathic message:
"I'll be hanging around the stables, whenever you three are ready to leave."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the sinewy, bald-headed man:
"Waying someone.. We will be there once we are finished."
You dissolve the psychic link.
At your seat, the obsidian-skinned woman says in southern-accented sirihish, looking around:
"I saw bugs crawl up my leg... They were there for a second... The next... They were gone."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar has arrived from the west.
The spare, silvery-blonde templar has arrived from the west.
The prodigious, purple-skinned half-giant soldier has arrived from the west.
The umber-skinned, azure-eyed man has arrived from the west.
The sharp-featured human soldier has arrived from the west.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the west.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the west.
The spare, silvery-blonde templar glances to the robust, crimson-eyed templar.
Slowly walking along the crowd, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to the spare, silvery-blonde
templar, in an unfamiliar tongue:
"Irhihirkojt."
Tilting her head to one side as she answers, the spare, silvery-blonde templar says to the robust,
crimson-eyed templar, in northern-accented sirihish:
"His Radiance guides us always."
The male wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap glances at the approaching crowd, rising from his seat to incline his head, before reseating back on a small white stone bench.
The well-shaped, slash-marked man has arrived from the north.
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman inclines her head respectfully as she catches sight of the spare,
silvery-blonde templar and the robust, crimson-eyed templar.
The obsidian-skinned woman shakes her head and pulls her pair of elegant red silk shoes with heels
off the ground and onto a small white stone bench.
The well-shaped, slash-marked man nods his head gently toward the spare, silvery-blonde templar as
he passes by.
Turning to a small white stone bench, the spare, silvery-blonde templar asks you, in
northern-accented sirihish:
"Good day. Tell me, out of curiosity...how long have you been seated here?"
Dipping his head once, going on walking along dark road slowly, the robust, crimson-eyed templar
says to the spare, silvery-blonde templar, in an unfamiliar tongue:
"Ar ufpyyo."
The well-shaped, slash-marked man shifts his gazes to the robust, crimson-eyed templar and drops a
gentle nod in that direction.
Blinking a few times behind the silken fabric of his facewrap, you say to the spare, silvery-blonde templar, in sirihish:
"Probably..six hours or so"
Stopping near a small white stone bench, the robust, crimson-eyed templar glances between the
spare, silvery-blonde templar and you.
The well-shaped, slash-marked man has arrived from the west.
Her brow knitted as she turns, the spare, silvery-blonde templar says to the robust, crimson-eyed
templar, in an unfamiliar tongue:
"I ihqydeptoo kise jarg atipe iojuyqojp pa jy."
Offering a firm nod, the robust, crimson-eyed templar asks the spare, silvery-blonde templar, in an
unfamiliar tongue:
"Se jqy shoaioj iujuuog imjeaktup?"
You whisper to the sleek, honey-eyed young woman in sirihish:
"Are you ready? Kot is waiting."
The auburn, charm-tasseled man has arrived from the north.
The auburn, charm-tasseled man walks south.
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman nods gently to you, rising from a small white stone bench.
Hefting under the weight of your sizeable leather backpack, you stand up from a small white stone bench.
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman stands up from a small white stone bench.
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman falls in behind you.
Pausing to glance at the obsidian-skinned woman briefly, the spare, silvery-blonde templar says to
the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in an unfamiliar tongue:
"Nu. Swu ej roeyn. Toy Sewr Mogezups kek pnaieh."
Lifting a hand, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"A moment Serpent."
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman lifts a hand, waving to the obsidian-skinned woman as she remains
by your side.
Softly, holding up a hand, the spare, silvery-blonde templar says to the sleek, honey-eyed young
woman, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Hold."
Lowering your sizeable leather backpack to the ground, breathing heavily, the male wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap bobs his head.
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman dips her head in respect to the spare, silvery-blonde templar,
her gaze lowered reverently toward the ground.
The enormous sun rises above the barren plains in the east.
The obsidian-skinned woman says to the well-shaped, slash-marked man, in southern-accented
sirihish:
"Cadet, if you'd like, I could make it fall to pieces when your trying to bring down those
tembo."
The male wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap lifts an eyebrow, glancing between the spare, silvery-blonde templar and the robust, crimson-eyed templar.
Quitely, the well-shaped, slash-marked man asks the obsidian-skinned woman, in northern-accented
sirihish:
"Shh.. Respect to the Faithfuls'. Dont raise your voice... And what Tembo??"
The robust, crimson-eyed templar strides towards the sleek, honey-eyed young woman, after a glance
to the spare, silvery-blonde templar.
The obsidian-skinned woman glances down the length of a small white stone bench towards the robust,
crimson-eyed templar. After a moment, she settles her back on the well-shaped, slash-marked man.
The male wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap gaze follow the robust, crimson-eyed templar as he progresses to the sleek, honey-eyed young woman, stepping closer to her.
The spare, silvery-blonde templar nods solemnly to the robust, crimson-eyed templar.
With a booming voice, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to the sleek, honey-eyed young woman,
in northern-accented sirihish:
"Come with me Sophie."
Jumping to her feet, the obsidian-skinned woman stands up from a small white stone bench.
Glancing to you, grunting, the robust, crimson-eyed templar exclaims to the sleek, honey-eyed young
woman, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Alone!"
The obsidian-skinned woman beckons towards the well-shaped, slash-marked man.
Furrowing his brows, hesitation in his tone, you ask the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"What is happening Faithful Lord? Maybe I can be of help?"
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
Reaching up to unfasten the linen sling holding the small, blond-haired baby, the sleek, honey-eyed
young woman asks the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in southern-accented sirihish:
"May I give the baby to Serpent, Faithful Lord?"
Quietly, the spare, silvery-blonde templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"This is none of your concern, Serpent. Take the child and leave the Faithful to their
business."
The robust, crimson-eyed man sends you a telepathic message:
"*with dark mist*Not this time Serpent, Not this time."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
Quitely, the well-shaped, slash-marked man says to the obsidian-skinned woman, in northern-accented
sirihish:
"I will be waiting you in Garrison'.. Come with meh now if you want."
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman carefully removes the baby from the linen that hugs her torso and
extends it to you, her features bearing no expression.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar stands near the sleek, honey-eyed young woman rigidly, as baby
changes hands from the sleek, honey-eyed young woman to you.
Her tone quiet as she steps to his side, the sleek, honey-eyed young woman says to the robust,
crimson-eyed templar, in southern-accented sirihish:
"I am ready, Faithful Lord."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar offers a firm nod to the sleek, honey-eyed young woman, motioning
the one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier to stand behind.
His hands shaking, his chest heaving up and down, you say, in sirihish:
"What is going on? We are just leaving.."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar slowly walks along stone road, his reddish gaze set on the sleek,
honey-eyed young woman.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks south.
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman walks south.
The spare, silvery-blonde templar walks south.
The prodigious, purple-skinned half-giant soldier walks south.
The umber-skinned, azure-eyed man walks south.
The sharp-featured human soldier walks south.
A human Tuluki soldier walks south.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier walks south.
The slender, russet-haired man has arrived from the north.
With her arms folded, the obsidian-skinned woman says, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Let us not think about it right now..."
You think:
"What?!"
The delicate, young brunette snickers quietly to herself before walking away.
To you, the obsidian-skinned woman asks, in southern-accented sirihish:
"This is yours, serpent?"
The delicate, young brunette walks west.
The obsidian-skinned woman places her sizeable leather backpack on a small white stone bench.
His hands shaking as he holds the tiny baby in his arms, the male
wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap bobs his head, gaze following southwards.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the robust, crimson-eyed man with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the robust, crimson-eyed man:
"What is happening Faithful Lord?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the spare, silvery-blonde woman with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the spare, silvery-blonde woman:
"What is happening Faithful Lady? Why did you take Sophie?"
You dissolve the psychic link.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the sleek, honey-eyed young woman with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the sleek, honey-eyed young woman:
"Where are they taking you to?"
You dissolve the psychic link.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman sends you a telepathic message:
"I don't know, Love. If you don't see me again, know I love you and tell Sen all about me."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the sleek, honey-eyed young woman with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the sleek, honey-eyed young woman:
"No! If I don't see you again, I am no more too!"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the sinewy, bald-headed man with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the sinewy, bald-headed man:
"Troubles. The trip has to be delayed.. At least one day."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
You slow down and start moving carefully.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The spare, silvery-blonde woman sends you a telepathic message:
"It is unfortunate, good Serpent. But, this woman has deceived you and acted as a spy for the
Black City during her stay here in the Ivory."
You think:
"NO!"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the spare, silvery-blonde woman with the Way.
The spare, silvery-blonde woman sends you a telepathic message:
"It is not even a question. There is absolute proof. But, because she is your mate, if you
wish to come to the Heart and discuss, we will extend you that option."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the spare, silvery-blonde woman:
"I am on my way."
The spare, silvery-blonde woman sends you a telepathic message:
"My Brother and I will meet you at the Gate. Do not come bearing arms. We wish you no ill."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Worried, Serpent ran the familiar way to the Heart. Within minutes, he was there before the giant gates.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the spare, silvery-blonde woman:
"She can't be! She does not know anyone here. She has no access to any information. What
proof is it?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the spare, silvery-blonde woman:
"I am at the gates, Faithful Lady."
You dissolve the psychic link.
The male wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap pats on the small
baby in his arms, knitting his brows.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the spare, silvery-blonde woman:
"I am at the gates of the Heart."
You dissolve the psychic link.
The tall, greying-haired Tuluki soldier opens the gate from the other side.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar has arrived from the north.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the north.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the north.
The tall, greying-haired Tuluki soldier closes the gate from the other side.
Motioning you to follow with a vague wave of his hand, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to
you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Come Serpent, we need to talk."
The young, wavy-haired female soldier opens the gate.
The young, wavy-haired female soldier steps aside, allowing the robust, crimson-eyed templar to
pass.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks north.
You follow the robust, crimson-eyed templar, and walk north.
The Bahamet's Maw Tavern - Main Room [ESU]
Half a dozen tables are scattered throughout this diminutive tavern.
Despite the lack of lavish decor, the bar exudes a feeling of being anything
but paltry. The walls are coated in a layer of vivid tan paint, and
occasionally a framed painting hangs from their glossy surfaces. The
floorstones below are simple squares of red sandstone, haphazardly inlayed
into the level ground. Just above the elongated bar on the northern wall
hangs a luxurious tapestry, the tedious embroidery of a fiery sunburst
stitched onto a white background.
The cramped entrance to the east leads out to a road, while the room
snakes away to the south. A polished baobab staircase is affixed to one end
of the bar to carry patrons to an upper level dormitory.
A wooden-paneled painting sits supported by a miniature bone tripod.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
The plump, reddish-hued templar is standing here.
A stocky, bald-headed bartender stands upright behind the glazed bar.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the east.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the east.
Gesturing a highly polished table with a lift of his single-tasseled, bladed staff, the robust,
crimson-eyed templar asks you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Sit down. Want anything?"
The robust, crimson-eyed templar opens a Jihae-embossed toolbelt.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar gets a pile of allanaki coins from a Jihae-embossed toolbelt.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks towards counter in front of the stocky, bald-headed
bartender.
Putting some coins on counter, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to the stocky, bald-headed
bartender, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Prepare me some bowls of stew and a pint of ale."
His tone quiet, holding the small baby in one arm, you say to the
robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I just want to get Sophie out of here. Nothing else."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
After a glance to baby in your arm, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in
northern-accented sirihish:
"Sit down, babies feel the fear much easier then us."
The stocky, bald-headed bartender trades a bowl of carru-meat stew to the robust, crimson-eyed
templar.
The stocky, bald-headed bartender trades a bowl of carru-meat stew to the robust, crimson-eyed
templar.
The stocky, bald-headed bartender trades a bowl of carru-meat stew to the robust, crimson-eyed
templar.
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
Furrowing his brows, you ask the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in
sirihish:
"Faithful Lady coming?"
You sit at a highly polished table.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar strides towards a highly polished table putting his reddish clay
pint in front of you.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, pushing empty
bowl aside, reaching a full one:
"Do you know what Sophie was doing while she is with you?"
At your table, you say in sirihish, placing your reddish clay pint on a highly polished table:
"Thank you. But I don't need a drink."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"I know. Taking care of the child, preparing food. Nothing else."
You stop using a grey shaded, black face-wrap.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, pushing another
empty bowl, reaching a full bowl:
"You miss a small thing what she was doing."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"I don't think I do. But say it, what is it?"
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, lifting a
ceramic spoon:
"She was using you for protection and spying for Borsail."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"She was -running- away from Borsail. How can she be spying for them?"
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"You are just mistaken.. Borsail wants her dead and you are just doing what they want."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, softly, his
gaze set on you:
"His Faithfuls hear everything including conversations with the Way. You know that very well,
don't you."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"I do. But I am guessing, Borsail is playing a trick here. It must be that way."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, exhaling
softly:
"She was spying for House Borsail during her stay in the Ivory."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"She does not know anyone, is not friend to anyone here. Has no connection, has no access to
any information."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, dipping his
spoon into bowl:
"Tell me Serpent, how can you explain the messages Sophie send via the Way to House Borsail?"
The robust, crimson-eyed templar eats a portion of a bowl of carru-meat stew.
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"In her first day, she had a friend.. Miko, and someone else, that my mind is busy enough that
I can't make the name."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"I told her to cut her friendships as well."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"And she did it."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, his shoulders
raising into a shrug:
"No, actually a rotten Borsail she was information. "
The robust, crimson-eyed templar eats a small portion of a bowl of carru-meat stew.
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"A noble? Tell me his name is Veralius."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Not an aide, not another servant but a rotten Borsail."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, grunting:
"Actually, I just know that rotten blood was a Borsail Lady. Nothing more."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"She was Haadith's aide. I killed Haadith, and Borsail wanted to kill more of what is
Haadith's."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"Sent militia.. Templars on her."
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman sends you a telepathic message:
"She's taken me back to the Sanctuary, Serpent."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"I kidnapped her and we ran away."
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man blinks, furrowing his brows.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, bending forward
towards table:
"Then maybe she was trying to secure her position in the Black City."
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man reaches to his temple, grunting.
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"Can't be. She is still being sought, I am about to just threaten or maybe even kill Veralius
because of this."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"And you are giving them what they want"
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"Now.. She is back in the sanctuary. Why is Faithful Lady not here?"
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, firmly:
"Most Honorful Mistress gave her word, she was in contact with a rotten blood and spying on
the Ivory!"
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Serpent! Hold yourself and think! You do that well.. Very well!"
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"I am thinking, and the more I think, the more you are just doing what Borsail wants. We were
on our way.."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Think what Sophie was doing with you using -your- baby. She was just protecting herself,
nothing else."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Mistress gave her word! Sophie was a spy in contact with rotten Borsail."
At your table, you say in sirihish, wetting his lips, patting the small baby in his arms:
"Now.. I think it is my turn after her, is not it?"
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, after a while
looking at you, wetting his lips before going on:
"Serpent or whatever you call yourself. You are seated with me at a table, and I am trying to
show the true face of Sophie who used your maybe single weakness."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"She saw you want a family, and she gave it to you. Nothing else.. In return she got power and
a lot of coins.. Isn't it?"
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"No."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, grunting:
"Then what? She was using you, and you ignore it."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"The baby.. The family.. All came out of the blue."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the spare, silvery-blonde woman with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the spare, silvery-blonde woman:
"Let us go..Faithful Lady.."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the spare, silvery-blonde woman:
"I will do anything.. For it."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the spare, silvery-blonde woman:
"Just let us go."
You dissolve the psychic link.
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Go! Take Sen! Raise our son! I'm condemned to death! I love you, Serpent!"
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man bites his lower lip, his hand clenching into a fist.
You think:
"They killed Sophie.."
You think:
"Now is my turn.."
You think:
"So long.. it has been."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"She gave you what you wanted, and expected power and coins in return."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, glancing down
to your hand then baby in your arm:
"Seems she succeeded."
At your table, you say in sirihish, pressing his lips together,
his voice trembling:
"Until she was arrested by Sarador, she got nothing.. asked nothing of me."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"And even then.. She did not ask. But I did."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, grunting:
"She was using you as a cover while she is spying for the Borsail.."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"Alright.. Now.. Let's think about it. What does Borsail give her in return, while she is a
foreingner here?"
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"Who does she have as a friend when she is here?"
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"What kind of a spying is it? No payment? No access?"
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, with a raise of
his broad shoulders:
"Probably Borsail offered to make her stay in the Black City safe. As you said she can not
walk in the Black City safetly, unless she does jobs for the Borsail and the cursed templarate."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"Borsail did? Well.. They did not do it hard enough then, since.. I was still planning to
kill one of their numbers because of it."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, rubbing his
eyes as he speaks in a quiet tune:
"In any case, Sophie was spying for the Borsail with the unspoken way while she was living in
the Ivory under my protection. "
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, lifting his
head, with a tired voice:
"Are you speaking with Sophie with the Way right now?"
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"No."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, his reddish
gaze set on you:
"You know what is inevitable, don't you."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
At your table, you say in sirihish, pursing his lips:
"I can see what is going to happen to me as well."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, tilting his
head to a side:
"What will happen to you?"
The short, scar-faced man sends you a telepathic message:
"Hey, Chief! You arrived Nak?"
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the short, scar-faced man:
"I am going to die.. So.. Enjoy your time with the crew."
You dissolve the psychic link.
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man sighs tiredly, patting the tiny baby wordlessly.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The short, scar-faced man sends you a telepathic message:
"What does that mean, Serpent? I still need your assistance."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, glancing down
to baby in your arm:
"Must be interesting that feeling. Watching it slowly growing up."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the short, scar-faced man with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the short, scar-faced man:
"Well, it does not mean a lot does it? I am in Tuluk, templarate here want a little blood, and
I will give them that."
The short, scar-faced man sends you a telepathic message:
"Don't do anything insane, Boss. Try to convince them, bribe them.."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the short, scar-faced man:
"Leave it to me. You mind your own crew fuck it. Since when am I being lectured by my
underlings?"
You dissolve the psychic link.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, lifting his
gaze, staring at you:
"You will be with your child while he is growing up, don't you want that?"
At your table, you say in sirihish, scratching his neck:
"Well I wanted some more things but I guess it does not matter much what I want, does it?"
The short, scar-faced man sends you a telepathic message:
"I'm sorry, Boss. I said that, because I care about you. I'm sure, other bosses care about you
too."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the short, scar-faced man with the Way.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Actually it really matters. When our conversation is over, I wonder what you will do first?"
At your table, you say in sirihish, pursing his lips:
"Well.. I wonder that as well."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the short, scar-faced man:
"Oh don't go emotional, or I will kick your ass. Go Effen and say that his mugs were all
fucked up.. Well.. Most of them. And mind your own business."
You dissolve the psychic link.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Leave the Ivory..? or... Find someone decent to take of the child.. or maybe risk your and
that baby's life unneccesarily? "
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Why don't you let me personally take care of your bady?"
The short, scar-faced man sends you a telepathic message:
"I -will- be emotional. Come down here and kick my ass for it."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Until grows up to age three or four.. or anytime you want. He will taken care as good as
younglings from Great Houses of the Ivory."
The short, scar-faced man sends you a telepathic message:
"Why don't you come here and tell that to him yourself? I don't think Effen likes me more than
a bug on his bar."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"If there is any need of it, well.. It can work."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"You are his father, you will decide if there is a need or not."
You think:
"Oh..fuck.. Go mind your own business damn it!"
The short, scar-faced man sends you a telepathic message:
"Tell me, who's gonna kill you, Chief."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the short, scar-faced man with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the short, scar-faced man:
"Did not I tell you to mind your own business? Piss off."
You dissolve the psychic link.
The short, scar-faced man sends you a telepathic message:
"If that's what your order is. I wish you can get through it too, and come here to kick my
ass."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man stares blankly at your sizeable leather backpack.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Well, actually I visit younglings almost every week once. There are two children of Tamara
and Garrity who are growing up quickly. "
You think:
"Tamara..Tikuri's sister.."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, softly:
"Eh, if you leave your child, I can be sure he is in good hands as well."
You think:
"Oh.. Everything seems so difficult now."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man's face looks paler for a moment, exhaling a soft sigh.
The sinewy, bald-headed man sends you a telepathic message:
"Feel like making that trip soon?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the sinewy, bald-headed man with the Way.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, softly:
"Sophie is no more Serpent and you will continue your life. Like you did after Falka who has
fallen with a foul trick."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the sinewy, bald-headed man:
"Troubles. I am not sure. If you have other business, go about it."
The sinewy, bald-headed man sends you a telepathic message:
"Alright. I'll be around. Let me know."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"Foul trick?"
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, grunting:
"A kind of cursed magickal trick as I recall from reports."
At your table, you say in sirihish, softly:
"Is Faithful lady coming here?"
You dissolve the psychic link.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, with a shake of
his head:
"I guess she has returned to her studies. What did you wish to speak with Faithful Lady?"
You think:
"Maybe I should just try to kill her?"
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The sinewy, bald-headed man sends you a telepathic message:
"Don't usually make a point of getting involved in other folks business, but I just saw a
templar carrying Miss out the gate. Just figured you should know, if you didn't already."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, wetting his
lips before going on:
"Serpent?"
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man tilts his head, his dark eyes staring at the robust, crimson-eyed templar blankly.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, grunting:
"What is passing through your mind Serpent?"
At your table, you say in sirihish, knitting his brows thoughtfully:
"Lots of things.. and nothing."
You think:
"If only I could see her now."
You think:
"Everything would be easier."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, gazing the
polished surface of wooden table for a moment, then chuckling softly:
"Then, when will you tell me of your plans.. until that time, seems we will be seated on those
chairs. "
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"My plans? I don't have any plan."
The ruddy, purple-bearded man sends you a telepathic message:
"Ahh, Serpent. I don't think we've been formally introduced. I'm Lord Templar Mazlaen Fale,
of the War Ministry."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the ruddy, purple-bearded man with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the ruddy, purple-bearded man:
"Well met then, Lord Templar."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"What do you mean you do not have any plan? You are leading a powerful group and you have a
child to grow, surely you must have plans."
At your table, you say in sirihish, softly:
"In better words, I had some plans. But they are ruined now at the moment."
The ruddy, purple-bearded man sends you a telepathic message:
"I offer my approval at the death of that **censored**. If anything else of note happens
in the Northlands, I'll have your underlings compensated for passing the information along."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar bobs his head absently a few times, his gaze standing at you.
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the ruddy, purple-bearded man:
"My pleasure, Lord Templar. I will see what I can do. And Scar, the one now taking care of
the crew will be in contact with you."
You dissolve the psychic link.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, steadying his
posture:
"Do you need time for making new plans Serpent?"
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"Seems like it."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"What About your child?"
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"He will share my fate."
You think:
"It is meaningless."
You think:
"I just want to kill... Just want to kill.."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, his gaze
falling down to polished surface of wooden table:
"And your possible fate is..?"
You think:
"Where is Eunoli when I need her?"
At your table, you say in sirihish, lifts his shoulders into an exhausted shrug:
"We will see."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"I don't know yet myself."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, hitting the
table with his fist loudly with voice of cracking wood:
"WHAT FOOLISHNESS IS THIS?"
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"YOU ARE A GOOD DAMM LEADER OF A GANG!"
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, his voice
echoing through tavern:
"YOU TELL ME YOU ARE LOST OF YOUR MIND BECAUSE OF A WOMAN YOU KNOW FOR WHAT.. A COUPLE OF
YEARS!"
The robust, crimson-eyed templar staring at the plump, reddish-hued templar direction, exhaling
softly.
At your table, you say in sirihish, patting the baby in his arms, his tone soft:
"I think I know pretty much what I am, Faithful Lord. We don't need to go over that."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"But it is not often.."
Offering a firm nod, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to the plump, reddish-hued templar, in
northern-accented sirihish:
"I do apologize High Templar."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"That my plans gets ruined. I am a little.. Surprised."
Motioning you to raise with a wave of his hand, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in
northern-accented sirihish:
"Come."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar stands up from a highly polished table.
You stand up from a highly polished table.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar strides along the crowded tavern with long steps.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks east.
You follow the robust, crimson-eyed templar, and walk east.
Way of Acquisition [NSW]
Smoothed chunks of fire-blackened stone make up the walkway of this
cobbled road. Just to the east, walls of sturdy wooden logs are nailed
together to form a steadfast barrier between the street and the massive
pyramid enclosed within. The road is rather minute in width, its
overshadowing western wall adding to its tiny appearance. Although the path
seems rather new, the surface of each of the durable stones is marred by the
imperfection of wheel marks and the occasional stain.
A break in the wall to the west reveals the awning-covered entryway to
a bustling tavern. Just above the leather-reinforced canvas awning, a
wooden carving hangs from the building to depict the visage of a beady-eyed
bahamet.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the west.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the west.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks south.
You follow the robust, crimson-eyed templar, and walk south.
Street of the Blazing Fist [NE]
Round-edged plates of red sandstone have been placed together to form
this road. An occasional slab bears the faint etching of a sunburst, though
they are otherwise undecorated. A pair of walls hamper movement in the two
cardinal directions, and the tip of a pyramidal object can be seen just over
the towering northern barrier. Scatterings of greyish grass sprout up from
between various pieces of the road below, struggling to survive amidst the
dusty surface.
Mirroring the corner of the pyramid, the road takes a jutting turn
from the east to the north here. The wall surrounding the pyramid seems
sunken at this point, allowing glimpses of the sleek grey marble structure.
A smooth statue of sculpted stone stands here upon a thin circle.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the north.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the north.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks east.
You follow the robust, crimson-eyed templar, and walk east.
Street of the Blazing Fist [EW]
Round-edged plates of red sandstone have been placed together to form
this road. An occasional slab bears the faint etching of a sunburst, though
they are otherwise undecorated. A pair of walls hamper movement in the two
cardinal directions, and the tip of a pyramidal object can be seen just over
the towering northern barrier. Scatterings of greyish grass sprout up from
between various pieces of the road below, struggling to survive amidst the
dusty surface.
Pink-mottled red fruit clings to the sides of a thorny vine that
creeps over the northern wall. The vine dangles precariously from atop the
wall, still clearing the ground by multiple cords.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the west.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the west.
Shrugging, you say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I won't need it anymore. Someone else can take the pack."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks east.
You follow the robust, crimson-eyed templar, and walk east.
Tembo Pass [NESW]
A pair of matching gates looms just to the north, their height
slightly dwarfed when compared to the ones above. A gate-tower remains
elevated in the air above this road, the patrolling of which can be heard
constantly through day or night. Lightly speckled grey plants lead
alongside the road to the east, while to the west the colors of the blossoms
are much more vivid and appear to be more taken care of.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
A tall, greying-haired Tuluki soldier stands here, guarding the southern gate.
A lean, tattooed Jihaen slave is here cleaning the streets.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the west.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the west.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks north.
You follow the robust, crimson-eyed templar, and walk north.
Chakal's Gateway [NS]
Brilliant banners hang from the eastern and western guardtowers,
stopping just short of a gargantuan wooden gateway. The pair of tapestries
depict scenes of battle, their detailed stitchwork capturing each crimson
droplet of blood as Tuluki soldiers massacre the southlands militia. Rows
of vibrantly-hued blossoms have been planted to lead up to the gate, over
which the glistening tip of a pyramid can be seen.
A scattering of wildflowers lies drifted through the grass.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
A stout, scruffy-haired male soldier blocks the northern gateway.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the south.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the south.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar gets a thornwood and leather keyring from a Jihae-embossed
toolbelt.
The prim, midnight-haired man sends you a telepathic message:
"So we never had that little chat a couple months ago, as we had planned..."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar slings a single-tasseled, bladed staff across his back.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar holds a thornwood and leather keyring.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar searches through a thornwood and leather keyring.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar unlocks the gate with a knob-ended baobab key.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar exclaims to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"I will do something for you!"
The stout, scruffy-haired male soldier steps aside, allowing the robust, crimson-eyed templar to
pass.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks north.
You follow the robust, crimson-eyed templar, and walk north.
Within Piory's Yard [NESW]
The saplings of purple and grey-barked trees are no match to the sheer
height of the marble pyramid that dominates this yard. Standing with an
enormous stature, the pyramid's greyish marble walls elegantly taper up to a
statue-tipped point. Scattered around the base of the pyramid are various
beds of lush blossoms, their colors appearing vibrantly-hued in contrast
with the dreary building. Just near the wooden gateway to the pyramid, a
lush strip of rosebushes sprawl towards the door.
A gigantic, grey-marble pyramid overshadows the rest of the yard.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
A bulging, wide-lipped man sits toying with some needles.
A Jihaen slave stands here, caring for the plants.
The braided, hook-nosed templar is standing here.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the south.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the south.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar closes the gate.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the prim, midnight-haired man with the Way.
Firmly, the robust, crimson-eyed templar exclaims to a Jihaen slave, in northern-accented
sirihish:
"Come here!"
The robust, crimson-eyed templar asks a Jihaen slave for assistance, but he refuses.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the prim, midnight-haired man:
"Oh.. There is not any more need for it. As your target is dead already."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar dips his head once as a Jihaen slave approaches.
The prim, midnight-haired man sends you a telepathic message:
"...she is... *surprise*"
The burning sun rises high into the sky, searing the earth.
The red orb of Jihae, the red moon, begins to vanish as it slowly sets.
The prim, midnight-haired man sends you a telepathic message:
"When?"
Gesturing a Jihaen slave, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented
sirihish:
"Give your child to this slave, or you will ruin yourself without a sudden anger."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the prim, midnight-haired man:
"It does not matter much, I guess. But right.. I am as much surprised."
The prim, midnight-haired man sends you a telepathic message:
"It does matter, a great deal."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the prim, midnight-haired man:
"Time.. Does not matter I meant."
The prim, midnight-haired man sends you a telepathic message:
"The time does."
The prim, midnight-haired man sends you a telepathic message:
"When did it happen?"
Tilting his head, you ask the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in
sirihish:
"Why?"
The robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"You will always able to ask your child back, but I insist him to stay here at least a
month."
The use of the Way drains you.
Shaking his head, you say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"No. I don't want to part with anyone else at the moment. You can keep me along with the
child if you want."
You shrug.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"You seem to have nothing to lose right now. After years of effort, I can not even imagine how
you manage to dig a hole in the filth you born, you seem to lost everything within yourself."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the prim, midnight-haired man:
"Today.. Or was it yesterday? I am losing the track of time."
The prim, midnight-haired man sends you a telepathic message:
".....today.....by...who?"
Pointing baby with a slender finger, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in
northern-accented sirihish:
"That's a baby and needs attention, on the other hand you need time to think what you have
done so far. "
The short templar wearing a thin veil of white silk opens the gate from the other side.
The short templar wearing a thin veil of white silk has arrived from the south.
The umber-skinned, azure-eyed man has arrived from the south.
The sharp-featured human soldier has arrived from the south.
The short templar wearing a thin veil of white silk closes the gate.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks east.
You follow the robust, crimson-eyed templar, and walk east.
In a Small Corner of a Garden [NW]
Pymlithe saplings are planted in variegated rows along this tight
strip of the garden. Nearly all of the flora that thrives within the
surrounding area seems to be in the earliest stages of their growth. The
vividly-colored blossoms of the roses strewn about are on the brink of
spreading open, though each stem's jade hue stands out stiffly above the
flowerbed. A few rounded slabs of red sandstone create a path throughout
the underlying greb grass' dark violet cascade.
Just beneath the row of trees planted in the southeastern corner of
the garden lies a cozy wooden bench, its seat covered with a pair of linen
cushions.
A shadow falls over the area, driving off the uncomfortable heat.
A wylrith tree stubbornly flourishes, its leaves forming a shaded canopy above the ground.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
The short templar wearing a thin veil of white silk has arrived from the west.
The umber-skinned, azure-eyed man has arrived from the west.
The sharp-featured human soldier has arrived from the west.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the west.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the west.
The short templar wearing a thin veil of white silk walks west.
The umber-skinned, azure-eyed man walks west.
The sharp-featured human soldier walks west.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the prim, midnight-haired man:
"Tuluk.. Public execution."
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man glances westward sharply.
You dissolve the psychic link.
You think:
"Slipped.. Missed my chance."
You hear a woman's voice shout from the west in northern-accented sirihish:
"Sorry to disturb, Brother."
The prim, midnight-haired man sends you a telepathic message:
"....by the Hi- *his thoughts are cut off abruptly as the link snaps shut*"
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man's chest heaves up and down, a hand reaching to his temple.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The prim, midnight-haired man sends you a telepathic message:
"*guardedly* You and I need to have that chat."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar exclaims to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"High Templar Eunoli will not join us!"
The prim, midnight-haired man sends you a telepathic message:
"Send an emissary if you don't trust me after that stunt you pulled by smuggling her out of
Allanak."
Pursing his lips, exhaustion in his words, you say to the robust,
crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Can I go then? I have a long way to south."
With a shake of his head, firmly, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in
northern-accented sirihish:
"No, as I said I insist your baby to stay. You are not in good mood for taking care of this
baby. "
Softly, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Serpent, this is best for your child."
You say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"My organisation will take care of him."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar puts a thornwood and leather keyring inside a Jihae-embossed
toolbelt.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Serpent, let the baby stay."
The prim, midnight-haired man sends you a telepathic message:
"But this cannot be discussed over the Way."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
Grunting, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"At least let your baby to be taken care of in decent conditions."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
".. at least for a couple of months."
Shaking his head, you say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in
sirihish:
"My organisation takes care of many babies. And this one will be looked over specially."
You say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I will keep him."
The sun reaches its highest point in the sky.
The small, blond baby starts to wail in the pale-faced,
serpent-tattooed man's arms.
Softly, you say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Let us go."
Leaning aganist a thin, canopied wylrith tree, the robust, crimson-eyed templar asks you, in
northern-accented sirihish:
"You do understand me right?"
You say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I think I do."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar asks you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Do you understand your position in my eyes?"
You ask the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"What does it have to do with the baby?"
The robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"With that baby in under my protection, I will be sure you will not do anything with a sudden
anger of yours.. And I guess results of your anger could be .. very harmful."
Shaking his head, after a moment of thought, you say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"There is no way.. I am parting with him."
Stepping close to you, lifting his head to face, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in
northern-accented sirihish:
"Why don't you leave him with me. Surely he will spend a couple of better months then in a
place full of hunger, thievery and brutallity."
Lowering your leather waterskin from his lips, his tone calm, you
say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I take good care of what is mine. So long..."
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man presses his lips together,
shutting his mouth tightly.
His lips curling up slightly, the robust, crimson-eyed templar asks you, in northern-accented
sirihish:
"So if I insist to keep your baby, you wish to stay with him right?"
Without a word, the pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man stares at
the robust, crimson-eyed templar blankly.
His arms folded on his chest, the robust, crimson-eyed templar stares at you .
You think:
"I am getting tired."
In a calm tone, you ask the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in
sirihish:
"You are not letting me go?"
Softly, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"How damm important you are."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
Pursing his lips, you say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in
sirihish:
"Seriously, I am not sure. Depends on who is asking I guess."
The short, scar-faced man sends you a telepathic message:
"What's the deal you had with Juye, Boss?"
Scratching his hair under his red silk hood, slowly walking along the path in garden, the robust,
crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Well, for me at least."
Turning back for a moment, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented
sirihish:
"You are a smart person.. very smart I must say."
The short, scar-faced man sends you a telepathic message:
"I don't know if you're in the condition to reply me, but she told me that I need to ask you
about it."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the short, scar-faced man with the Way.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"On the other hand, I am not quite sure of how good you are controling your emotions."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the short, scar-faced man:
"There is a merchant to be killed. On the miner's road. The cloth seller. In one month, the
job should be done."
The short, scar-faced man sends you a telepathic message:
"How much is the bounty on their head?"
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
Kneeling near a flower bush, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented
sirihish:
"Seems that spy manage to seduce and .. control you to some degree."
The late, red sun descends toward the western horizon.
The pale orb of the white moon, Lirathu, vanishes as it slowly sets.
With an exasperated sigh, you say to the robust, crimson-eyed
templar, in sirihish:
"It is not doing any progress at all. I am really tired. Just do what you want to do
Faithful Lord. Or let me go."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Unless I am convienced you are going to dig the sour of that spy, I can not let you leave."
Grunting, the robust, crimson-eyed templar exclaims to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Look at yourself Serpent, you are not even caring of your life!"
The robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"You even know you may not leave this place alive, you still do not care about it."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"That's why I ask for the child. At least there will be something you care for."
You say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Truly, I have not thought much about my life for quite a long time. Longer than I know you,
I think."
Shaking his head, you say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in
sirihish:
"The child stays with me, and the only way to part with him is taking him off my dead
fingers."
Reaching long shaft of his single-tasseled, bladed staff, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to
you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Then make my decision easier if you do not care about your life a bit."
You think:
"If he reaches for the baby.."
You think:
"I will first kill my son.. Then kill him.."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar unslings a single-tasseled, bladed staff from his back.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar stops using a serrated, ivory longknife.
Offering his serrated, ivory longknife from its hilt, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you,
in northern-accented sirihish:
"If you do not want to live, take this and end you life. As you said, seems we are not making
an progress here."
Spreading his empty hand, his other arm holding the baby, you say
to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I want to go. That is what I said. And I will take the child with me. If you want to kill
me, or take the child, I am not going to try persuading you otherwise."
You say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"But I am not parting with the baby."
The hilt of his serrated, ivory longknife standing close to your, the robust, crimson-eyed templar
asks you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Serpent, will you continue doing your business?"
The robust, crimson-eyed templar asks you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Will you able to get your emotions out and continue you to make business with His
Faithfuls?"
The last rays of the red sun fade over the Grey Forest.
The scarlet face of Jihae rises, staring down from the sky.
With an exasperated sigh, you say to the robust, crimson-eyed
templar, in sirihish:
"I am.. really.. tired Faithful Lord. Can we discuss this later? Either let me go, or kill
me.. Or do something. But please end this for now."
Slowly sliding his serrated, ivory longknife to a sheath on his Jihae-embossed toolbelt, the
robust, crimson-eyed templar asks you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Are you, two leaving for the Black City?"
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks west.
You follow the robust, crimson-eyed templar, and walk west.
Within Piory's Yard [NESW]
The saplings of purple and grey-barked trees are no match to the sheer
height of the marble pyramid that dominates this yard. Standing with an
enormous stature, the pyramid's greyish marble walls elegantly taper up to a
statue-tipped point. Scattered around the base of the pyramid are various
beds of lush blossoms, their colors appearing vibrantly-hued in contrast
with the dreary building. Just near the wooden gateway to the pyramid, a
lush strip of rosebushes sprawl towards the door.
A gigantic, grey-marble pyramid overshadows the rest of the yard.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
A bulging, wide-lipped man sits toying with some needles.
A Jihaen slave stands here, caring for the plants.
The braided, hook-nosed templar is standing here.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the east.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the east.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar slings a single-tasseled, bladed staff across his back.
Offering a firm nod, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to the braided, hook-nosed templar, in
northern-accented sirihish:
"High Templar."
Holding the baby in his arms securely, you say, in sirihish:
"Seems like it."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar gets a thornwood and leather keyring from a Jihae-embossed
toolbelt.
Reaching a key on his thornwood and leather keyring, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you,
in northern-accented sirihish:
"Leave this week."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar holds a thornwood and leather keyring.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar searches through a thornwood and leather keyring.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar unlocks the gate with a knob-ended baobab key.
Gesturing baby in your arm, the robust, crimson-eyed templar asks you, in northern-accented
sirihish:
"What is his name?"
You say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Sen Hiatus. Sophie put his name."
Stepping close to baby, his lips slightly curled up, the robust, crimson-eyed templar asks you, in
northern-accented sirihish:
"Sen Hiatus.. Does it have a meaning?"
The robust, crimson-eyed templar puts a thornwood and leather keyring inside a Jihae-embossed
toolbelt.
You say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Sen.. Was what people used to call me when I was a kid. And Hiatus means "disruption".
Well.. Because he was a disturbing one."
A faded smile touched on his lips, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in
northern-accented sirihish:
"Beatiful name. He is growning up close to weapons.. He will be tough."
Slowly walking towards large wooden gates, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in
northern-accented sirihish:
"I would hope he to speak smooth Sirihish though."
You send a telepathic message to the sinewy, bald-headed man:
"Two of us.. And the baby.. We should progress on the trip as soon as possible."
You say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"As smooth as mine."
You say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Or more like a southsider.. I am not sure."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The sinewy, bald-headed man sends you a telepathic message:
"Sounds good. Where should we meet?"
Chuckling softly, raising his head from baby to you, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says, in
northern-accented sirihish:
"At least I can understand what you can, unlike other labyrinth born."
Softly, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Leave the Ivory this week, without leaving your weapons from your sheath."
You think:
"We will see."
You say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I will go to south. As soon."
Softly, the robust, crimson-eyed templar asks you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Should I give you a soldier to assist you?"
Rubbing his pointed chin, the robust, crimson-eyed templar asks you, in northern-accented
sirihish:
"Can not you make this week Serpent?"
You say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I can."
You say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"And I will."
Softly, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"I would appreciate it."
You fasten a grey shaded, black face-wrap across your face.
Holding the tiny baby securely in his hands, the male wearing a
grey shaded, black face-wrap inclines his head to the robust, crimson-eyed templar.
Lifting his hand, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"I bid you a safe travel."
His gaze passing to baby, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says, in northern-accented sirihish:
"And you as well Sen."
The male wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap silently, slips through the darkened streets, disappearing into the crowds.
You slow down and start moving carefully.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
His thoughts weak, he just let his feet carry him. After a short while, Serpent met his guide to the south.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
His tone soft as a whisper, to the small blond baby in his arms,
you say, in sirihish:
"I will take care of you, Sen.. I will."
You think:
"I would just kill you.."
You think:
"Eunoli.."
You think:
"Or try at least."
You think:
"Fuck."
The sinewy, bald-headed man raises the hood of a dusty hooded, grey sandcloth windcloak.
The very short figure in a dusty hooded, grey sandcloth windcloak slips a hand within his cloak,
and rummages through his belt.
His tone calm, you ask the very short figure in a dusty hooded,
grey sandcloth windcloak, in sirihish:
"Do we have to wait for the daybreak?"
The very short figure in a dusty hooded, grey sandcloth windcloak says to you, in sirihish:
"Nope. Wouldn't recommend crossing the Red Desert at night, but that's a ways off."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
They made it to Allanak without an incident. They parted their ways and Serpent once more was home. He traveled the alleys he has lived in for so long, his son crying in his arms.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dead End [NE]
You are standing in the middle of a poverty-stricken alley, the
Highlord's chamberpot of human life. All about you, piled against
dilapidated stone buildings, are piles of garbage, excrement, and the
occasional corpse -- or perhaps that's simply a sleeping child -- that
gather here. The sky above, what is visible of its dome through the
blood-tinged air rank with foul scents, shines less brightly upon you, the
sun's rays blocked out by the tall cracked structures of crumbling red
stone, buildings which give this alley a claustrophobic feel, despite its
being quite wide.
This alleyway ends here. To the west the grey stone of the outer wall
of Allanak is visible above the piles of trash and debris piled up against
it. A narrow doorway is visible along the north row of buildings. The only
other visible exit leads eastwards.
Matron Verwolin's Orphanage [S]
Within the sanctuary of this small building, the air is heady with the
smells of molding laundry, feces, ammonia and the ancient reek of the
Labyrinth itself. It has been recently cleared of the sand, trash and
debris that once littered this place. The building is in terrible
disrepair, but apparently now serves as a shelter for the hordes of homeless
children in Allanak. A small cooking fire burns near the back of the
building near which lies a large pile of soiled laundry. A small number of
bruised and dirty children live and thrive here, some play quietly, while
others sit listessly.
The ancient, green-eyed woman stands hunched over the fire.
A grimy, shaggy-haired urchin crouches in the shadows.
The bulky, grim-faced man is here, disciplining the children.
Holding the baby in his arms, the pale-faced, serpent-tattooed
man walks over the fire, crouching next to the ancient, green-eyed woman.
Patting the baby softly, you say to the ancient, green-eyed woman, in sirihish:
"Hello Matron. Long time no see."
The ancient, green-eyed woman glances up at you.
The ancient, green-eyed woman's eyes shift to the baby in your arms.
You say to the ancient, green-eyed woman, in sirihish:
"I have something that I want you to keep. And raise for me."
Spitting to one side before speaking, the ancient, green-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Eh, alright. Won't be much good for a couple years yet. I'l get one'a the older brats to
watch it."
The ancient, green-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"But I'll need somethin' for its upkeep."
Wetting his lips, you say to the ancient, green-eyed woman, in
sirihish:
"I want him to be raised.. With a special care matron. He is not one of the other brats."
You say to the ancient, green-eyed woman, in sirihish:
"You will get a special upkeep for him as well."
You say to the ancient, green-eyed woman, in sirihish:
"I mean.. You will get special -something- for his upkeep."
You ask the ancient, green-eyed woman, in sirihish:
"Do we understand each other?"
One eye squinted, the ancient, green-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Every month? I'll treat 'im good enough if it's worth it."
You say to the ancient, green-eyed woman, in sirihish:
"You name what it is worth then."
The baby starts wailing again, squirming in your arms.
You say to the ancient, green-eyed woman, in sirihish:
"I will come and see him once in every two weeks."
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man pats softly to the back of the baby, exhaling a soft sigh.
The ancient, green-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Well then, give me what you think he's worth an' when you come to check you decide if you're
gettin' what you paid for."
The ancient, green-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Can't say any fairer than that."
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man bobs his head, passing the baby to the ancient, green-eyed woman.
You get a pile of allanaki coins from a bone-studded backpack.
There were 1000 coins.
It is very light.
The ancient, green-eyed woman takes the baby into her arms, gently rocking it until the cries
subside.
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man takes a few coin pouches from your bone-studded backpack, tossing one of them to the ancient, green-eyed woman.
You ask the ancient, green-eyed woman, in sirihish:
"Looks good enough?"
Looking the baby over then glancing back to you, the ancient, green-eyed woman says to you, in
sirihish:
"This poor thing's half starved, I better feed it."
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man absently, tosses another
coin pouch to the ancient, green-eyed woman, bobbing his head.
His tone quiet, you say to the ancient, green-eyed woman, in
sirihish:
"Alright.. You know what to do with him."
The ancient, green-eyed woman slips the coins into a pocket, carrying the baby off with a nod.
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man furrows his brows, staring
at the fire thoughtfully.
You think:
"Should I just go and attempt killing Eunoli now?"
You think:
"Nah.. Does not worth half the trouble."
You think:
"I will think of something, when the time is right."
The ancient, green-eyed woman moves over to the fire, holding the baby in the crook of one arm and
taking a small bowl of mushy gruel in the other.
Staring blankly at the fire, you say to the ancient, green-eyed
woman, in sirihish:
"I will be going.. Guess I will have some business to do in the alleys. You take care of the
kid."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
Turning toward the doorway, his empty hand reaching to the hilt
of your sharp, well-balanced bone halfsword, you say to the ancient, green-eyed woman, in
sirihish:
"I will come check him in two weeks."
Dead End [NE]
You are standing in the middle of a poverty-stricken alley, the
Highlord's chamberpot of human life. All about you, piled against
dilapidated stone buildings, are piles of garbage, excrement, and the
occasional corpse -- or perhaps that's simply a sleeping child -- that
gather here. The sky above, what is visible of its dome through the
blood-tinged air rank with foul scents, shines less brightly upon you, the
sun's rays blocked out by the tall cracked structures of crumbling red
stone, buildings which give this alley a claustrophobic feel, despite its
being quite wide.
This alleyway ends here. To the west the grey stone of the outer wall
of Allanak is visible above the piles of trash and debris piled up against
it. A narrow doorway is visible along the north row of buildings. The only
other visible exit leads eastwards.
The obsidian-skinned woman sends you a telepathic message:
"I am sorry for the loss."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The news of Sophie's death traveled as fast as Serpent did. Within moments, Mazlaen Fale was in his mind
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The ruddy, purple-bearded man sends you a telepathic message:
"So I here Haadith has only recently been executed, Serpent."
The ruddy, purple-bearded man sends you a telepathic message:
"It sounds like there's about to be a blood bath. A Guild blood bath. Unless I get some
answers."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the ruddy, purple-bearded man with the Way.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The obsidian-skinned woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Serpent, you should make your way to Allanak as soon as possiable."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the ruddy, purple-bearded man:
"Answer? What is the question?"
The obsidian-skinned woman sends you a telepathic message:
"I am here and I need someone to tell a story to a Tempalar here."
The obsidian-skinned woman sends you a telepathic message:
"I will wait for you in Allanak."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The obsidian-skinned woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Tell the templars of Allanak how they killed Sophie"
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
The ruddy, purple-bearded man sends you a telepathic message:
"Previously it was claimed that the Guild was responsible for killing Haadith, but it's been
proven that.. such.. just simply isn't true. Someone's been lying to a Red Robe, Serpent."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the ruddy, purple-bearded man:
"I have killed him, myself.. With my very own blade."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the ruddy, purple-bearded man:
"What makes you think it is not so?"
The ruddy, purple-bearded man sends you a telepathic message:
"Then Sophie and two others -weren't- recently executed in the Northlands?"
The ruddy, purple-bearded man sends you a telepathic message:
"Haadith's belongings weren't destroyed publically in the North? All my sources are full of
shit, are they?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the ruddy, purple-bearded man:
"Sophie has been executed. Haadith's belongings are destroyed. What does it make at all?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the ruddy, purple-bearded man:
"Haadith is killed by me, in the labyrinth."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the ruddy, purple-bearded man:
"In the westside."
The ruddy, purple-bearded man sends you a telepathic message:
"What of this Renali fellow?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the ruddy, purple-bearded man:
"Who cares if Sophie had Haadith's belongings.. And ran away to Tuluk"
You think:
"I do."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the ruddy, purple-bearded man:
"Reneli? Well.. She has nothing about anything. She was just Veralius' concubine."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the ruddy, purple-bearded man:
"I could enlighten you a little bit about Veralius and all, but it gets a little nifty there.
We paid for this information, and if we get what we paid for, we can pass it to you of course."
You dissolve the psychic link.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Thus ended the remains of Haadith. However it sparkled the taste of revenge on the crime lord. He was uncertain how to start, but first, he had a lot of work to built back the damaged relations of his organisations.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Submitter's note:
Staying in a foreign city started to show its unpleasant face.
Sophie could not get to talk to anyone. Nor did Serpent have much
of a control over his...
Continue Reading...The Criminal, part V: Questionable Safety by Ghost
Added on Mar 23, 2007A few weeks passed since their arrival. Sophie and the baby she had with her was threatened by a "licenced assassin" in Sanctuary, which made Serpent doubt the granted safety.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Submitter's note:
A few weeks passed since their arrival. Sophie and the baby she had with her was threatened by a "licenced assassin" in Sanctuary, which made Serpent doubt the granted safety.
P.S: I have edited the log many times, deleting some passages of conversations, mindtalks, and some emotes and I have also replaced some names/actions as **censored** to avoid passing some information that better kept as it is. I hope you find it a good read.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Pak-Curachek Road [NEW]
Bordered on either side by towering walls that spire upwards of ten
cords, this road runs east and west between the Templars' Quarter and the
Nobles' Quarter. Bones, dried and specially treated, have been set into the
ground to form a complexly woven path of isilt. The road is kept free of
dust and other debris as it makes its way through the city.
A pair of high-flying banners drape over the topmost portion of each
of these gates. On the left side, an enormous depiction of the reddish moon
of Jihae. Opposite to that is its stark white counterpart, Lirathu. The
vertical gate is a staggering ten cords tall, an insurmountable obstacle for
even the most skilled of climbers. The gate is made of interlocking
rectangles of a polished hardwood, with a series of close-set obsidian
spikes lining the very top of each half. A row of half a dozen smoothed
ivory torch-holders flank the sides of the gateway, ensuring a reasonably
brightly lit entryway no matter what the hour.
The Pak-Curachek road continues to the east and west.
A young, wavy-haired female soldier stoically guards the northern gate.
The beefy, grey-skinned dwarf is standing here, bleeding heavily.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the robust, crimson-eyed man with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the robust, crimson-eyed man:
"I am at the gates."
The tall, greying-haired Tuluki soldier opens the gate from the other side.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar has arrived from the north.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the north.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the north.
The tall, greying-haired Tuluki soldier closes the gate from the other side.
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man inclines his head to the
robust, crimson-eyed templar.
Standing in front of large wooden gates, dipping his head casually, the robust, crimson-eyed
templar says to you, in an unfamiliar tongue:
"Caro."
The young, wavy-haired female soldier opens the gate.
The young, wavy-haired female soldier steps aside, allowing the robust, crimson-eyed templar to
pass.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks north.
You follow the robust, crimson-eyed templar, and walk north.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
They walk in the Heart, in silence Frustration visible on one, the other has other thoughts.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Bahamet's Maw Tavern - Main Room [ESU]
Half a dozen tables are scattered throughout this diminutive tavern.
Despite the lack of lavish decor, the bar exudes a feeling of being anything
but paltry. The walls are coated in a layer of vivid tan paint, and
occasionally a framed painting hangs from their glossy surfaces. The
floorstones below are simple squares of red sandstone, haphazardly inlayed
into the level ground. Just above the elongated bar on the northern wall
hangs a luxurious tapestry, the tedious embroidery of a fiery sunburst
stitched onto a white background.
The cramped entrance to the east leads out to a road, while the room
snakes away to the south. A polished baobab staircase is affixed to one end
of the bar to carry patrons to an upper level dormitory.
A wooden-paneled painting sits supported by a miniature bone tripod.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
The short, obsidian-eyed youth is sitting at a highly polished table.
A stocky, bald-headed bartender stands upright behind the glazed bar.
The plump, reddish-hued templar is standing here.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the east.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the east.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks towards a highly polished table with long steps.
The stocky, bald-headed bartender trades a bowl of carru-meat stew to the short, obsidian-eyed
youth.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar sits at a highly polished table.
Gesturing a chair across, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented
sirihish:
"Sit down Serpent."
The short, obsidian-eyed youth tilts his head downward, bringing the edge of his bowl of carru-meat
stew to his lips as he begins to drain the soup of it's liquid, his gaze remaining firm upon a
highly polished table.
Following the robust, crimson-eyed templar's gesture, you sit at a
highly polished table.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, gesturing the
short, obsidian-eyed youth with a vague hand move:
"You know my partisan. What bothers you Serpent?"
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man clenches his jaw, staring at the tabletop with a rigid expression.
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man inhales deeply, letting out a soft sigh before turning to the robust, crimson-eyed templar.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, his gaze
getting narrow watching you:
"Master assasin, I haven't ever seen you like this before. What did happen?"
At your table, you say in sirihish, his tone quiet, his words
coming out slowly:
"Faithful Lord, the Ivory has never been this hostile to me before. I just wonder what I did
wrong."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, raising his
shoulder into a brief shrug:
"I have heard an unpleasant incident, but I thought you have suffered consequances of being a
southorn born before."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"You are given permission to live under His warm light by myself and High Templar Eunoli.
That's more than enough for any body."
At your table, you say in sirihish, nodding his head:
"Yes, but why does someone draws a knife to a baby and a mother in the middle of a crowded
tavern and gets away with it because he has a licence. I never knew the licence had so much
power."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"I never knew, that I could draw a knife to a baby in the sanctuary and threaten the mother,
just because I am a licenced assassin."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, grunting
loudly, lifting a finger:
"I am reported about the incident. That action did not occur because that man was a licensed
assasin, but a Faithful brother of mine just asked for him to do it."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"I will speak with my Faithful brother and learned the reason behind it."
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man blinks, furrowing his brows.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Probably he did not know you and your mate is given permission to live in the Ivory by myself
and High Templar Eunoli."
The short, obsidian-eyed youth remains silent, his obsidian-hued gaze settled upon the surface of a
highly polished table, his lips drawn into a thin line.
At your table, you say in sirihish, exhaling softly and shaking
his head:
"I have asked this before Faithful Lord. But this incident again made me uncomfortable. I
have come here with your permission and your granting us the safety.."
At your table, you say in sirihish, adding on:
"I have served and will continue to serve the Ivory with whatever. Two southern templars died
to my blade and probably there will be a third.."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"But.."
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man inhales a deep breath, wetting his lips.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"My word means my Order's word, and Faithful Lady's words mean for Lirathan Order. So you are
safe in the Ivory."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"I will learn the details of that incident, and will be sure it will not repeat. "
At your table, you say in sirihish, adding on quietly, his tone
calm:
"If we are going to be a trouble and will suffer it, we can just leave. Just that I am asking
it again."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, grunting:
"This is second time you ask for leaving. Where do you plan to go Serpent?"
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Is there any other place in the Known World which would welcome you more then the Ivory?"
At your table, you say in sirihish, shrugging his shoulders,
lowering his gaze:
"Nowhere.. We would probably be runaways in the sands and go to the Red Storm, live like
smugglers and what not.. The Ivory is more than a safe haven.."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"But if it is not safe.. I just don't want to have my mind troubled. I just want to be sure
of the things, so I can focus on what I am supposed to do."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, softly:
"I suggest you to keep your nerves, and continue your life with your skills. I have a feeling
that child make you .. a bit more .. softer?"
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, his lips curled
up:
"I will deal that incident, be sure it will not repeat again."
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man rubs his forehead.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, gesturing the
short, obsidian-eyed youth with a vague hand move:
"There is someone valuable for me, waiting for us."
At your table, you say in sirihish, in a calm tone:
"My skills never slipped. Never left me alone. And I will put them into good use.. So long..
My mind is clear and is not worried about a couple of person."
The short, obsidian-eyed youth rests his small hands upon his lap, his gaze remaining towards the
surface of a highly polished table still as he remains silent at the edge of the table.
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man nods slowly, turning to the
short, obsidian-eyed youth.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, watching you
for a while:
"Those feelings.. Interesting they are. You will get more comfortable, when Sophie will
understand she is safe in the Ivory."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Well, when will you begin training?"
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, his gaze set on
you:
"So?"
At your table, the short, obsidian-eyed youth says in northern-accented sirihish, twisting his lips
to one side, before speaking:
"He simply had mentioned you. I thought it was curious that a mutant would say such.. He was
attempting to assist me with my paintings, in the Sancutary.."
At your table, you say in sirihish, his tone taking firm:
"We can train even now. I was waiting a word from you about the other trainees.. Houses..
And .. All the details."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, to you:
"Chosen Lord Vadrayus wishes to speak with you Serpent. I told your services are extremely
good and expensive. Single lesson costs around two larges."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Reach Chosen Lord's mind and offer your services."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Also, I will speak with a Chosen from Winrothol family then return back to you."
At your table, you say in sirihish, wetting his lips:
"It will go through you. I would rather like to have a monthly payment, not a huge one and
the rest can go as a donation to you, Faithful Lord."
contact vadrayus
You suffer from use of the Way.
You are unable to reach their mind.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, with a soft
smile touched on his lips, gesturing the short, obsidian-eyed youth:
"The remaining coins can hopefully be enough training. My partisan is in your hands, and
skillful hands they are."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"You have given lessons before, you are the master and I will not interfere."
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man turns back to the short,
obsidian-eyed youth, glancing at him up and down.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, his gaze set on
the short, obsidian-eyed youth:
"He will listen your words carefully and will do his best."
The short, obsidian-eyed youth shifts his gaze towards you for a moment, before faintly tilting his
head downward at the robust, crimson-eyed templar's words in a nod.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, his gaze
shifting between you and the short, obsidian-eyed youth:
"I am sure you two have much to talk."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, his gaze
passing over surrounding:
"And this place is not suitable for that kind of conversation."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"We need training weapons.. And a suitable place."
<95/95 116/124 101/101 - walking >
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, dipping his
head once:
"I will arrange weapons right now, but facilities will take some time. I will get key for the
barracks in Freil's Rest."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"It will be open for both of you."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"For now, my partisan has an apartment. I hope that could be useful enough for now."
At your table, you say in sirihish, to the short, obsidian-eyed
youth:
"Big enough?"
At your table, you say in sirihish, turning to the robust,
crimson-eyed templar:
"You spoke of another candidate of yours, if I am not mistaken."
At your table, the short, obsidian-eyed youth says in northern-accented sirihish, dipping his
head faintly while speaking:
"Yes.. It is rather empty.. at the moment."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, his gaze
shifting between you and the short, obsidian-eyed youth:
"You wait here for a while. We will speak about the other professional soon Serpent."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar stands up from a highly polished table.
Firmly, the robust, crimson-eyed templar exclaims to a human Tuluki soldier, in northern-accented
sirihish:
"You stay here!"
A human Tuluki soldier offers firm nod towards the robust, crimson-eyed templar.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar relieves a human Tuluki soldier from his duty.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks east.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier walks east.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The short, obsidian-eyed youth shifts a glance over his small, right shoulder, his gaze seeming to
follow the robust, crimson-eyed templar, before turning back towards you.
You think:
"I just want their safety.. I just want that.."
You think:
"Give me their safety damn it.."
At your table, the short, obsidian-eyed youth says in northern-accented sirihish, shaking his
head in either direction, while speaking:
"I am eager to begin.. I've waited for some time, now, for a
proper mentor."
You think:
"And I will offer my services.. Is it too much asking?"
At your table, you say in sirihish, wetting his lips:
"You would not mind if there were other people along with you, while I instruct you, eh?"
At your table, the short, obsidian-eyed youth says in northern-accented sirihish, shaking his
head slowly in either direction:
"I am surprised, as this is the first time I've heard of it.. But.. No."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"There is one more person I want to teach. And the two of you, can take it together."
At your table, the short, obsidian-eyed youth says in northern-accented sirihish, clearing his
throat lightly, before dipping his head towards you:
"I understand.."
At your table, you say in sirihish, thoughtfully:
"It has been a lot of years since I had a competitive apprentice."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar has arrived from the east.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the east.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks towards a highly polished table carrying a pile of bone
weapons.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar sits at a highly polished table.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar calls to a human Tuluki soldier for aid, and he strides to his
side.
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man glances toward a
wooden-paneled, dark tempera painting.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, putting weapons
on polished surface of wooden table into a pile in front you:
"Here they are."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, his reddish
gaze shifting between you and the short, obsidian-eyed youth:
"Anything else either of you wish to add?"
The short, obsidian-eyed youth shakes his head lightly in either direction, shifting his gaze
towards the bone weapons that they are placed within a bone-studded backpack.
At your table, you say in sirihish, looking at a wooden-paneled,
dark tempera painting once more:
"Other than the other candidate, nothing on my side."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, quickly raising
from his stool, speaking in a firm tune:
"Very well, professional assasins. That's all for now then."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar stands up from a highly polished table.
The short, obsidian-eyed youth stands up from a highly polished table.
Slowly lifting his slender frame, you stand up from a highly polished table.
In firm tune, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says, in northern-accented sirihish:
"May His radiance shine upon you."
You are no longer following anyone.
The Pak-Curachek Road [NEW]
Bordered on either side by towering walls that spire upwards of ten
cords, this road runs east and west between the Templars' Quarter and the
Nobles' Quarter. Bones, dried and specially treated, have been set into the
ground to form a complexly woven path of isilt. The road is kept free of
dust and other debris as it makes its way through the city.
A pair of high-flying banners drape over the topmost portion of each
of these gates. On the left side, an enormous depiction of the reddish moon
of Jihae. Opposite to that is its stark white counterpart, Lirathu. The
vertical gate is a staggering ten cords tall, an insurmountable obstacle for
even the most skilled of climbers. The gate is made of interlocking
rectangles of a polished hardwood, with a series of close-set obsidian
spikes lining the very top of each half. A row of half a dozen smoothed
ivory torch-holders flank the sides of the gateway, ensuring a reasonably
brightly lit entryway no matter what the hour.
The Pak-Curachek road continues to the east and west.
The short, obsidian-eyed youth is standing here.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier is standing here.
A human Tuluki soldier stands here, lightly armored.
A young, wavy-haired female soldier stoically guards the northern gate.
The beefy, grey-skinned dwarf is standing here, bleeding heavily.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Once again Serpent was convinced of their safety. However, as the time passed, the feeling did not stay for long.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Submitter's note:
A few weeks passed since their arrival. Sophie and the baby she
had with her was threatened by a "licenced assassin" in Sanctuary,
which made Serpent...
Continue Reading...The Criminal, part IV: Foreign Sanctuary by Ghost
Added on Mar 23, 2007Haadith died, but the concequences of his actions still echoed even after his death. Veralius Borsail wanted to destroy everything that was left of Haadith. Lord templar Sarador Sath captured Sophie and said he will decide his sentence on her, refusing any negotiations with Serpent or Veralius. Seeing no better way to solve it, Serpent kidnapped Sophie from where Sarador was hiding her. And together they fled to Tuluk for Sophie's safety. On their way, Sophie gave an early birth at Luir's outpost. Twins. Two boys, one died at birth. After staying in Kurac's care for one week, they finally made it to Tuluk. Seeking sanctuary, on a foreign land was not easy.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Submitter's note:
Haadith died, but the concequences of his actions still echoed even after his death. Veralius Borsail wanted to destroy everything that was left of Haadith. Lord templar Sarador Sath captured Sophie and said he will decide his sentence on her, refusing any negotiations with Serpent or Veralius. Seeing no better way to solve it, Serpent kidnapped Sophie from where Sarador was hiding her. And together they fled to Tuluk for Sophie's safety.
On their way, Sophie gave an early birth at Luir's outpost. Twins. Two boys, one died at birth. After staying in Kurac's care for one week, they finally made it to Tuluk. Seeking sanctuary, on a foreign land was not easy.
P.S: I have edited the log many times, deleting some passages of conversations, mindtalks, and some emotes and I have also replaced some names/actions as **censored** to avoid passing some information that better kept as it is. I hope you find it a good read.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Sun King's Sanctuary [NESWUD]
A polished, white marble floor covers the ground of this expansive
room, gleaming under the light of a large glass chandelier that hangs
overhead. A semi-circular bar, made of hard-grained wood painted a deep
black, extends from the eastern wall, several high-backed barstools sitting
around it. The walls of this room are brightly decorated, with several
elaborate paintings placed carefully for unobstructed view, and shelves
holding many exotic potted plants, blooming with bright red and white
flowers. Two large stained-glass windows, decorated with elaborate sun
symbols, adorn the northwest and southeast corners of the room.
Several decoratively carved tables fill this room, while a polished
leather couch nearly ten cords in length sprawls along the northern wall. A
stately spiral staircase sits in the center of the room, winding upwards
toward the common rooms of the second floor. The sounds of laughter and
music can be heard from a doorway along the western wall, while the scents
of cooked meat waft in from the east. A small, straight stairway sits along
the northern wall, ending at a slightly raised loft and a large carven
baobab door sits in the southern wall, leading out onto the North Road
outside.
The Tuluk bulletin board is here propped up on a stand.
The obsidian-skinned woman is standing here.
The young, Jihae-haired man is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The sinewy, chiseled woman is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The thin, green-gazed man is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The light-tressed young man is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The long-haired, middle-aged man stands behind the counter.
The gaunt, black-haired man is here, leaning on the bar.
The tall, well-groomed man sits here on a plush couch.
The short haired, heavy-set man stands here mug in-hand.
The male wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap walks over an intimate, dimly lit table, taking a seat.
You sit at an intimate, dimly lit table.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the robust, crimson-eyed man:
"Good morning Faithful Lord. It is a pleasure to find your mind finally."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
At a black-painted bar, you overhear the sinewy, chiseled woman say in northern-accented sirihish,
murmuring to herself:
"May's well watch th'scrub grow."
The battered, ebon-matted man has arrived from the south.
The young, Jihae-haired man looks at the sinewy, chiseled woman with a turn of his helmet-covered
head.
The slim, golden-haired woman has arrived from the west.
The robust, crimson-eyed man sends you a telepathic message:
"I have been looking for your mind for some time too master assasin. Did you manage to have a safe travel to the Ivory?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the robust, crimson-eyed man:
"That I have. I am indeed in the Sanctuary right now."
The obsidian-skinned woman makes her way across the marble floor with her head slightly inclined in the direction of a black-painted bar. She pitches a broad smile in at her twisted ruby red silk scarf as she makes her way down the bar's length.
The robust, crimson-eyed man sends you a telepathic message:
"Please come to the gates of the Heart Serpent, there are a lot to talk about your future in the Ivory."
The battered, ebon-matted man flicks his tongue out over his dark, dry lips, his feet carrying him slowly towards a black-painted bar with a limp in his step.
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
The battered, ebon-matted man sits at a black-painted bar.
The young, Jihae-haired man looks at the battered, ebon-matted man as he sits.
The slim, golden-haired woman walks north.
The obsidian-skinned woman looks down at the sinewy, chiseled woman with a passing gaze.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the robust, crimson-eyed man:
"I am on my way then."
Lowering a black inked hand from his temple, you stand up from an intimate, dimly lit table.
You dissolve the psychic link.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Serpent walked to the Heart, a place few southernors made it in, fewer made it alive out.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Pak-Curachek Road [NEW]
Bordered on either side by towering walls that spire upwards of ten
cords, this road runs east and west between the Templars' Quarter and the
Nobles' Quarter. Bones, dried and specially treated, have been set into the
ground to form a complexly woven path of isilt. The road is kept free of
dust and other debris as it makes its way through the city.
A pair of high-flying banners drape over the topmost portion of each
of these gates. On the left side, an enormous depiction of the reddish moon
of Jihae. Opposite to that is its stark white counterpart, Lirathu. The
vertical gate is a staggering ten cords tall, an insurmountable obstacle for
even the most skilled of climbers. The gate is made of interlocking
rectangles of a polished hardwood, with a series of close-set obsidian
spikes lining the very top of each half. A row of half a dozen smoothed
ivory torch-holders flank the sides of the gateway, ensuring a reasonably
brightly lit entryway no matter what the hour.
The Pak-Curachek road continues to the east and west.
A young, wavy-haired female soldier stoically guards the northern gate.
The beefy, grey-skinned dwarf is standing here, bleeding heavily.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the robust, crimson-eyed man with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the robust, crimson-eyed man:
"I am at the gates."
The thin, green-gazed man sends you a telepathic message:
"Serpent...I notice a man who dresses like you. "
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the thin, green-gazed man with the Way.
The tall, greying-haired Tuluki soldier opens the gate from the other side.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar has arrived from the north.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the north.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the north.
The tall, greying-haired Tuluki soldier closes the gate from the other side.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the thin, green-gazed man:
"That was me Fej."
You now follow the robust, crimson-eyed templar.
The figure in a black skull-studded greatcloak inclines his head in the robust, crimson-eyed templar's direction.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar looks up at you for a while before dipping his head briefly.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar steps back towards large wooden gates, after a glance back to
you.
The young, wavy-haired female soldier opens the gate.
The young, wavy-haired female soldier steps aside, allowing the robust, crimson-eyed templar to
pass.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks north.
You follow the robust, crimson-eyed templar, and walk north.
Tembo Pass [NESW]
A pair of matching gates looms just to the north, their height
slightly dwarfed when compared to the ones above. A gate-tower remains
elevated in the air above this road, the patrolling of which can be heard
constantly through day or night. Lightly speckled grey plants lead
alongside the road to the east, while to the west the colors of the blossoms
are much more vivid and appear to be more taken care of.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
A tall, greying-haired Tuluki soldier stands here, guarding the southern gate.
The prodigious, purple-skinned half-giant soldier looms on duty here.
The short-haired, female Tuluki soldier is standing here.
A lean, tattooed Jihaen slave is here cleaning the streets.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the south.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the south.
The young, wavy-haired female soldier closes the gate from the other side.
Within Piory's Yard [NESW]
The saplings of purple and grey-barked trees are no match to the sheer
height of the marble pyramid that dominates this yard. Standing with an
enormous stature, the pyramid's greyish marble walls elegantly taper up to a
statue-tipped point. Scattered around the base of the pyramid are various
beds of lush blossoms, their colors appearing vibrantly-hued in contrast
with the dreary building. Just near the wooden gateway to the pyramid, a
lush strip of rosebushes sprawl towards the door.
A gigantic, grey-marble pyramid overshadows the rest of the yard.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
The braided, hook-nosed templar is standing here.
A Jihaen slave stands here, caring for the plants.
A bulging, wide-lipped man sits toying with some needles.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the south.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the south.
The figure in a black skull-studded greatcloak glances around his
surroundings briefly.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar closes the gate.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar locks the gate with a knob-ended baobab key.
The enormous sun rises above the barren plains in the east.
After a glance to huge pyramid raising to sky, the robust, crimson-eyed templar asks you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Well, you have been here before a few times, haven't you?"
The figure in a black skull-studded greatcloak drops a single firm nod.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar tucks his thornwood and leather keyring back to a pocket on his
Jihae-embossed toolbelt, slowly walking along stone path on garden.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar puts a thornwood and leather keyring inside a Jihae-embossed
toolbelt.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks east.
You follow the robust, crimson-eyed templar, and walk east.
In a Small Corner of a Garden [NW]
Pymlithe saplings are planted in variegated rows along this tight
strip of the garden. Nearly all of the flora that thrives within the
surrounding area seems to be in the earliest stages of their growth. The
vividly-colored blossoms of the roses strewn about are on the brink of
spreading open, though each stem's jade hue stands out stiffly above the
flowerbed. A few rounded slabs of red sandstone create a path throughout
the underlying greb grass' dark violet cascade.
Just beneath the row of trees planted in the southeastern corner of
the garden lies a cozy wooden bench, its seat covered with a pair of linen
cushions.
A shadow falls over the area, driving off the uncomfortable heat.
A wylrith tree stubbornly flourishes, its leaves forming a shaded canopy above the ground.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the west.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the west.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar closes a Jihae-embossed toolbelt.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks north.
You follow the robust, crimson-eyed templar, and walk north.
Within a Linen-Topped Gazebo [SW]
A row of potted plants lines the interior of this simple gazebo,
providing the only fauna not blocked off by screens of a wooly fabric. The
beige, earth-toned shades assist in shadowing away some of the harsh crimson
light of Suk-Krath while still allowing a pleasant view of the luxurious
garden just outside. A shelf has been hammered into place above the bench
on the eastern wall, bearing a few yellowish candles and some long-dried
flowers.
A wicker-edged door leads to the west, and a matching door opens up
towards the southern garden.
A small thornbush grows in a pot.
A long bench has been bolted to the eastern wall, cushioned by thick pillows.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the south.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the south.
Walking along wooden floor towards a long, cushioned bench, the robust, crimson-eyed templar asks
you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"You do not need that hood.. or do you need to feel safer?"
The robust, crimson-eyed templar sits on a long, cushioned bench.
Gesturing a long, cushioned bench with a casual wave of his hand, the robust, crimson-eyed templar
says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Sit down."
Tilting his head back and letting his hood fall on his shoulders
silently, you sit on a long, cushioned bench.
You lower the hood of a black skull-studded greatcloak.
You stop using a grey shaded, black face-wrap.
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man carefully wraps your grey
shaded, black face-wrap in his hands, placing the silken object in his lap.
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, his reddish gaze
passing over you up and down:
"So, Serpent of the alleys. Welcome!"
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with an appreciative nod:
"Thank you Faithful Lord."
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man wets his lips, reaching to
your bone-studded backpack.
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, his lips curling
up slightly:
"I can not think of any good reason why -now- you need to the sanctuary of His warm light."
The thin, green-gazed man sends you a telepathic message:
"Ahh. Visiting, then? Whats become of Judas?"
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Did you insult a black roped witch or an high ranking caught you with a rotten noble in his
bedroom?"
At your seat, you say in sirihish, exhaling a soft breath:
"Not quite, but close."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Haadith..."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Malenthis.."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Then Sarador.."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Also, for the safety of my companions."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the thin, green-gazed man with the Way.
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, stroking his
pointed chin as he studies your face:
"I know of Malenthis.. A blue if I am not mistaken, probably he would not cause any problems
for your business.. Who is Sarador?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the thin, green-gazed man:
"If things do not turn any bad, I will be staying in the Ivory for sometime. Judah, could not
recover from his injuries."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Another Blue. Narrow witted one."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, lifting a brow:
"Did you escape from the Black City because of two blue robes? Interesting.. I thought your
status in your organization give you enough protection from those types."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, wetting his lips:
"The thing is.. I am accused of being a traitor.. Twice. And none of them really bothers me.
Because I can slip through the whole Blues and Reds if I have to."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, exhaling a soft breath:
"I am here.. Because there is also a defiler. Well.. Again.."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"I could give a good fight and make the outcome of the fight a little bit surprise for him."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, grunting:
"A defiler? From Labyrith?"
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Or a pet defiler witches use?"
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"But my companions.. The templars, nobles, defiler.. They are also a threat for them. I came
to ensure their safety."
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man nods a few times.
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"I don't think he has any connections to the templars."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, pointing you
with a slender finger finger:
"This is second time you say companions.. One of them is an old aide of Haadith, the others?"
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Did you bring a group with you for foundation of your groups' branch in the Ivory?"
At your seat, you say in sirihish, wetting his lips, and taking another bite from your half eaten bundle of cooked meat:
"A kid.. Baby."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, shaking his head:
"Probably.. I will try that branch myself. None with me here."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, his lips curling
up slightly into a faded grin:
"A baby? Should I congratulate?"
At your seat, you say in sirihish, stiffling a grin, taking another
bite from your half eaten bundle of cooked meat to hide the curl in his lips:
"Well.. You could if you want to."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the thin, green-gazed man:
"I came here to see the well being of the group in North myself Fej."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the thin, green-gazed man:
"We two, can pull it together, don't you think?"
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, chuckling
softly, shifting on bench to face you:
"The one your bring, aide of Haadith. What's her name? I guess there is quite a story about
Haadith's death as well."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Sophie. And yes, there is some story to the death of the disrobbed templar."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, folding his arms
on his red armored chest, still a smile on his lips:
"I am listenning. "
Your new objective is:
Ensuring the safety of Sophie and his baby.
At your seat, you say in sirihish, exhaling a soft breath:
"Haadith.. attacked to a superior of his. Red Robe Marsellus."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, dipping his
head briefly:
"Interesting. Please continue."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"And got knocked down. Which led to his being disrobbed and banished to the Labyrinth."
The thin, green-gazed man sends you a telepathic message:
"We could, perhaps, but I am still sickened by disease. "
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"There was a mob.. A crowd that was waiting for him to tear him into shreds."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"I confronted him myself first and ensured his safety by taking him among my people."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar stares at you with narrowed reddish gaze.
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"What I was planing was.."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"To keep him secure, and then probably extract anything that he knew."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Then I would sell him out.. He was nothing to me at all."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, wetting his lips:
"I was.. Sold out by some magicker that entered my quarter by shadow magick."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"And Malenthis, pulled me into a trick.. And I was thrown into the jails for the first time."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar exhales softly, without leaving his gaze on your face.
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Jails are a little bit convincing, when it comes to that, you are a traitor for the second
time."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Malenthis' intentions were clear. He was asking for Haadith's head. And he captured another
of ranking in my organisation as well."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"For his safety, I agreed, and brought Haadith's head to him."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, tapping his
pointed chin, softly:
"So that's the end of Haadith."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, pursing his lips:
"The tip of my blade.. Was his end."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, spreading his
arms briefly, shifting on a long, cushioned bench reaching another silk pillow:
"Well, so you have no problem with that witch Malenthis."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, wiping his forehead:
"Well.. We can say that. But still, he might hold something against me, since I am the
"traitor"."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, with a raise of
his broad shoulders in a brief shrug:
"Why don't you slay that beast? "
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Or someone else from your gang."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Killing a templar, in his own domain among his guards is not something easy to pull off
easily. And after I do that, everything we do in the southside of the city would be damaged
greatly."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"I have to have a -very- big reason to do it."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, dipping his
head briefly:
"Well, shortly you are in the Ivory because of another Sandas defiler who can harm either
yourself our your mate and child.. Am I correct? "
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"And also Sarador, the Blue."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"I kidnapped her from Sarador's hand."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, steadying his
posture, speaking in a firm tune:
"Well, you will walk safely under His warm light with protection of my name."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"I already ordered Corporal Vaashir to speak with you. You can also speak with him if
neccesary."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, nodding appreaciatively:
"Thank you Faithful Lord. And, this includes my companions too?"
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, bobbing his
head briefly:
"Yes. I hope you are not planning any retirement, your skills could be very useful."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Actually.. I was just thinking of that."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, his gaze widen
slightly:
"You are too young to retire. Your skills could be very valuable. "
At your seat, you say in sirihish, exhaling a soft breath:
"I agree on that."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"But I was planning more in lines of.."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Passing my knowledge perhaps."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"If that is possible of course, I can be a trainer here during my stay."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, his lips curling
up slightly:
"Indeed, that's what I am planning as well. There are a couple of canditates already in my
hand, your skills will give a safe stay and earning during your stay."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, nodding his head:
"I think the Houses might have some to be trained as well. Perhaps you can arrange that."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, nodding once:
"Yes, -I- will arrange it personally Serpent."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"I will speak with Faithful Lady Eunoli, and I want you to completely obey her orders without
even thinking."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, blinking:
"Of course.. But orders about what?"
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, after a long
while looking at you:
"Anything my sister wishes."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, knitting his brows:
"Of course."
You think:
"Confusing."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, thoughtfully:
"If our stay here is going to be a problem... We can leave Faithful Lord."
You think:
"Orders? What orders..."
You think:
"I am not ordered.. Never."
You think:
"Damn it.. Weakness.. This is weakness.. For Sophie and the baby.."
You think:
"They can use them... Damn."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, shaking his
head a couple of times:
"It's not a problem, but an opportunity for me. You will find sanctuary under His brilliant
light in the Ivory."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"I have brought what Haadith had, before he died."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"All **censored** are questioned by His legions on sight. On the other hand, do you
know the name of that beast or.. can you describe?"
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, lifting a brow:
"Ring?"
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Maybe you will be interested in them. No."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Without his ring, medallion, and robe.. Still he has some of the templar uniform though."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, his lips curled
up slightly:
"Did you bring the robe and medallion? What is the cost of those cursed items?"
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"I would like to keep them for my personal collection."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, shaking his head:
"No.. As I said, the medallion and robe were taken in his banishment. But I have the res of
the uniform in Jade and black colors."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Well, what is the cost of those items?"
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"I think I could pull off something like three larges or something for those armor pieces..
But."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"We can go half for you. Fifteen smalls."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"If you agree, I mean."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, after a while
looking at you, bobbing his head once:
"Sounds like a good piece. They will be a good addition to my collection."
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man bobs his head a few times.
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"I would like to speak with Sophie as well."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Of course. Once she is around, I will bring her to you as well."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, lifting his
hand:
"There is no need you have to accompany us in that meeting, I want her to understand she in
safe here."
You think:
"Why is that?"
At your seat, you say in sirihish, biting his lower lip:
"I see."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Once she is around, I will tell her."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, dipping his
head once more:
"Anytime, I will try to reach her mind as well. We will speak occasionally, that's good news.
During your stay, if you manage to learn anything regarding the old City ruins, I would like to pay
for it."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Of course."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Also, there are elves running around His dominion, speaking about Rantarri. I am quite sure
you will come up with something from that as well.. Especially about an one eyed elf."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"One eyed? What else does he have as distinguishing feature?"
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, with a brief
shake of his head, grunting:
"It is informed he is blonde, but nothing else. Oh.. Also one more thing.. "
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"There is a kind of mysterious figure who is very interested in Ruins as well. He calls
himself -Shadow-. Other than that little piece of information, there is nothing about him. "
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Shadow.. Drovians like that kind of name, if you ask me."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"But nothing reliable. I can check it out."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, gesturing your
cloak with a lift of his hand:
"I am quite sure those types of people will find you while in your stay."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, chuckling quietly:
"I am not sure if it is good to be so atractive."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, with a slight
girn:
"Well, you make your life with being atractive. That's all for now Serpent, if there is
nothing else you wish to add."
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man shakes his head, lifting his slender frame up.
You stand up from a long, cushioned bench.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar stands up from a long, cushioned bench.
You fasten a grey shaded, black face-wrap across your face.
Within a Linen-Topped Gazebo [SW]
A row of potted plants lines the interior of this simple gazebo,
providing the only fauna not blocked off by screens of a wooly fabric. The
beige, earth-toned shades assist in shadowing away some of the harsh crimson
light of Suk-Krath while still allowing a pleasant view of the luxurious
garden just outside. A shelf has been hammered into place above the bench
on the eastern wall, bearing a few yellowish candles and some long-dried
flowers.
A wicker-edged door leads to the west, and a matching door opens up
towards the southern garden.
A small thornbush grows in a pot.
A long bench has been bolted to the eastern wall, cushioned by thick pillows.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier is standing here.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
A human Tuluki soldier stands here, lightly armored.
Slowly walking along wooden gaze towards garden, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in
northern-accented sirihish:
"If you meet with a young human called Murkan, I am planning to ask you to give training to
him.. So at least introduce yourself to him, as a beginning."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks south.
You follow the robust, crimson-eyed templar, and walk south.
You ask the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"What was the name of that dwarf, he was also a private of the legions?"
Slowly openning the wooden gates, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in
northern-accented sirihish:
Tucking his thornwood and leather keyring back to a pocket on his Jihae-embossed toolbelt, the
robust, crimson-eyed templar asks you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"So when I can get those armor pieces?"
Shrugging his shoulders, you say to the robust, crimson-eyed
templar, in sirihish:
"Whenever you want. I can just go and pick them up even now."
Dipping his head briefly walking over large wooden gates, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to
you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Meet me in front of Nenyuki Bank after you pick them up."
The tall, greying-haired Tuluki soldier opens the gate.
The tall, greying-haired Tuluki soldier steps aside, allowing the robust, crimson-eyed templar to
pass.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks south.
You follow the robust, crimson-eyed templar, and walk south.
The Pak-Curachek Road [NEW]
Bordered on either side by towering walls that spire upwards of ten
cords, this road runs east and west between the Templars' Quarter and the
Nobles' Quarter. Bones, dried and specially treated, have been set into the
ground to form a complexly woven path of isilt. The road is kept free of
dust and other debris as it makes its way through the city.
A pair of high-flying banners drape over the topmost portion of each
of these gates. On the left side, an enormous depiction of the reddish moon
of Jihae. Opposite to that is its stark white counterpart, Lirathu. The
vertical gate is a staggering ten cords tall, an insurmountable obstacle for
even the most skilled of climbers. The gate is made of interlocking
rectangles of a polished hardwood, with a series of close-set obsidian
spikes lining the very top of each half. A row of half a dozen smoothed
ivory torch-holders flank the sides of the gateway, ensuring a reasonably
brightly lit entryway no matter what the hour.
The Pak-Curachek road continues to the east and west.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
A young, wavy-haired female soldier stoically guards the northern gate.
The beefy, grey-skinned dwarf is standing here, bleeding heavily.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the north.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the north.
The tall, greying-haired Tuluki soldier closes the gate from the other side.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"May His radiance guide your path in your stay Serpent."
You say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Then I will reach your mind within an hour."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar dips his head briefly offering a gentle nod.
The male wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap dips his head to the robust, crimson-eyed templar.
You slow down and start moving carefully.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Within an hour, they met again in the Bank ran by House Nenyuk
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
House Nenyuk Bank [W]
The continual clink of money being counted competes with the
noise of shuffling receipts and the yells of clerks as they run this
way and that with boxes full of coins. A large desk sits near the
door, from which customers are served.
A plaque has been affixed on the wall above the desk.
A short, fat Nenyuki clerk stands here, waiting to help customers.
A muscular, half-giant bodyguard lounges here.
A muscular, half-giant bodyguard lounges here.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
A human Tuluki soldier is standing here.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier is standing here.
The male wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap hefts under the weight of your bloodied bone-studded backpack.
Passing your bloodied bone-studded backpack to the robust,
crimson-eyed templar, you say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Exactly what he had. Blood is his own"
You give a bloodied bone-studded backpack to the robust,
crimson-eyed templar.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks over you, handing a large coin pouch.
The male wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap tests the weight
of the coin pouch, nodding once.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar glances down to his bloodied bone-studded backpack, with a smile
spread on his face.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar dips his head briefly towards you, walking along dark street.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks south.
A human Tuluki soldier walks south.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier walks south.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Moments later...
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Sun King's Sanctuary [NESWUD]
A polished, white marble floor covers the ground of this expansive
room, gleaming under the light of a large glass chandelier that hangs
overhead. A semi-circular bar, made of hard-grained wood painted a deep
black, extends from the eastern wall, several high-backed barstools sitting
around it. The walls of this room are brightly decorated, with several
elaborate paintings placed carefully for unobstructed view, and shelves
holding many exotic potted plants, blooming with bright red and white
flowers. Two large stained-glass windows, decorated with elaborate sun
symbols, adorn the northwest and southeast corners of the room.
Several decoratively carved tables fill this room, while a polished
leather couch nearly ten cords in length sprawls along the northern wall. A
stately spiral staircase sits in the center of the room, winding upwards
toward the common rooms of the second floor. The sounds of laughter and
music can be heard from a doorway along the western wall, while the scents
of cooked meat waft in from the east. A small, straight stairway sits along
the northern wall, ending at a slightly raised loft and a large carven
baobab door sits in the southern wall, leading out onto the North Road
outside.
The Tuluk bulletin board is here propped up on a stand.
The well-shaped, slash-marked man is standing here.
The light-tressed young man is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier is standing here.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
A human Tuluki soldier stands here, lightly armored.
The lithe, black-haired young woman is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The slim, golden-haired woman is here moving about the room.
The obsidian-skinned woman is sitting at a highly polished table.
The sable-skinned, ponytailed man is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The sinewy, chiseled woman is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The thin, green-gazed man is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The green-eyed, redheaded woman is sitting on a supple, black leather couch.
The scar-riddled, wiry man is standing here.
The svelte, loreshi-tressed woman is sitting on a supple, black leather couch.
The tall, curly-haired man is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The long-haired, middle-aged man stands behind the counter.
The gaunt, black-haired man is here, leaning on the bar.
The tall, well-groomed man sits here on a plush couch.
The short haired, heavy-set man stands here mug in-hand.
Stepping over the center of the crowded tavern, the robust, crimson-eyed templar shouts, in
northern-accented sirihish:
"Good and loyal citizens of the Ivory!"
The lithe, black-haired young woman shifts her position, turning half way around on her cushioned
stool.
The sinewy, chiseled woman looks up at the robust, crimson-eyed templar with a turn of her head.
The sable-skinned, ponytailed man turns completely on the stool, facing the robust, crimson-eyed
templar.
The well-shaped, slash-marked man comes to halt by tavern's entry, focusing his gazes on the
robust, crimson-eyed templar.
After a while waiting for silence, the robust, crimson-eyed templar shouts, in northern-accented
sirihish:
"I have some good news!"
The male wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap glances at the robust, crimson-eyed templar briefly, before turning back to the doorway.
North Road [NESW]
The stark white of this wide stone road lies nestled between the rise
and fall of a conglomerated jumble of eclectically styled buildings.
Passing through the city, the road is kept clean of any blowing sand and
forest debris. The pale backbone cuts a decisive line east across the
bustling metropolis towards what remains of the Old City.
The pale white of the road merges with a newer road just to the east.
Further in the distance, the crumbled ruins of the old city can be seen
rising up above the newer walls that have been built up around them. Set on
the north side of the road is a large two-story tavern. On the south side
of the road is a large wagon yard.
The robust, obsidian-haired Jihaen templar is standing here.
The lanky, russet-haired lad lounges by the tavern.
North Salt Road [NSW]
Rows of pale stones form the backbone for this broad avenue, settled
into the ground with graceful fervor. Decorating the edge of the street,
the buildings and storefronts are universally adorned with garish and tawdry
sculptures, bas reliefs, and murals. The road is filled with a continual
throng of humans and demi-humans alike as they scurry about the bustle of
daily life.
The sounds of a rowdy commotion spills out onto the streets from the
building to the west. A trio of humanoid sculptures are caught before the
junction between two roads, the crowds passing around them. An odd-looking
sculpture surrounds a stone bench off to one side of the road.
The tawny, blonde-haired woman strolls down the street, eyes bright.
You sit on a small white stone bench.
The wiry, stony-eyed man has arrived from the north.
The wiry, stony-eyed man walks west.
The short figure in a desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak has arrived from the north.
The short figure in a desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak walks west.
The stout, one-eyed man has arrived from the north.
You think:
"Interesting."
The stout, one-eyed man looks down at you as he passes down the road.
You hear a man's voice from the north say, in sirihish:
"He's stealin' it!!!"
The Sun King's Sanctuary [NESWUD]
A polished, white marble floor covers the ground of this expansive
room, gleaming under the light of a large glass chandelier that hangs
overhead. A semi-circular bar, made of hard-grained wood painted a deep
black, extends from the eastern wall, several high-backed barstools sitting
around it. The walls of this room are brightly decorated, with several
elaborate paintings placed carefully for unobstructed view, and shelves
holding many exotic potted plants, blooming with bright red and white
flowers. Two large stained-glass windows, decorated with elaborate sun
symbols, adorn the northwest and southeast corners of the room.
Several decoratively carved tables fill this room, while a polished
leather couch nearly ten cords in length sprawls along the northern wall. A
stately spiral staircase sits in the center of the room, winding upwards
toward the common rooms of the second floor. The sounds of laughter and
music can be heard from a doorway along the western wall, while the scents
of cooked meat waft in from the east. A small, straight stairway sits along
the northern wall, ending at a slightly raised loft and a large carven
baobab door sits in the southern wall, leading out onto the North Road
outside.
The Tuluk bulletin board is here propped up on a stand.
The stout, one-eyed man is standing here.
The scarred, pony-tailed man is standing here.
The short figure in a desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The wiry, stony-eyed man is standing here.
The intricately tattooed half-elf is sitting at an intimate, dimly lit table.
The well-shaped, slash-marked man is standing here.
The light-tressed young man is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier is standing here.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
A human Tuluki soldier stands here, lightly armored.
The lithe, black-haired young woman is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The obsidian-skinned woman is sitting at a highly polished table.
The sable-skinned, ponytailed man is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The thin, green-gazed man is standing here.
The green-eyed, redheaded woman is standing here.
The scar-riddled, wiry man is standing here.
The svelte, loreshi-tressed woman is standing here.
The tall, curly-haired man is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The long-haired, middle-aged man stands behind the counter.
The gaunt, black-haired man is here, leaning on the bar.
The tall, well-groomed man sits here on a plush couch.
The short haired, heavy-set man stands here mug in-hand.
The well-shaped, slash-marked man breaks a jade-studded, black-leather hauberk.
Dips his head to himself a couple of times watching the crowd cracking the items, the robust,
crimson-eyed templar steps out to busy street with a slight smile on his lips.
The sable-skinned, ponytailed man stands up from a black-painted bar.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks south.
A human Tuluki soldier walks south.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier walks south.
The well-shaped, slash-marked man sheathes an ivory and marble claw-carved mace.
The scarred, pony-tailed man looks down at the well-shaped, slash-marked man.
The green-eyed, redheaded woman says, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Pity there wasn't a witch's neck in there.."
The sable-skinned, ponytailed man puts a slender, blue-rimmed wineglass on a black-painted bar.
The sable-skinned, ponytailed man walks south.
The stained glass windows glow with the light of the rising sun outside.
The wiry, stony-eyed man asks, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Which witch was it?"
The scar-riddled, wiry man walks south.
The thin, green-gazed man looks down at the tall, curly-haired man.
Raising his voice, hoarsely, the well-shaped, slash-marked man says, in northern-accented
sirihish:
"Haadith'."
Holding out her bloodied bone-studded backpack toward him, the svelte, loreshi-tressed woman says
to the wiry, stony-eyed man, in northern-accented sirihish:
"This is the blood of Haadith Oash."
Head bowed low, the male wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap makes his way to the stairs, passing through the crowds.
The intricately tattooed half-elf stands up from an intimate, dimly lit table.
The lithe, black-haired young woman looks up at the intricately tattooed half-elf.
The intricately tattooed half-elf strides past the mob with an easy stride stopping to turn to the
lithe, black-haired young woman.
The stout, one-eyed man purses his lips, glancing over the crowd.
The wiry, stony-eyed man says to the svelte, loreshi-tressed woman, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Hey, I think I remember that name."
The male wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap silently stops by
the stairs, glancing at the commotion briefly.
The well-shaped, slash-marked man makes his way to a supple, black leather couch at a slow pace.
You hear a man's voice from below say, in sirihish:
"Goo', well I have work ta' do eh'. I must be off."
You hear a woman's voice shout from below in northern-accented sirihish:
"This witches blood will burn in firepit!"
You hear a man's voice from below say, in sirihish:
"Travel ligh' an' live well lass. I hope to see ye latta'."
You hear a woman's voice from below say, in sirihish:
"Sorry about the mess."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Haadith's belongings were displayed, and destroyed publically:A small sign of victory for Tuluk, and for Samil, a bigger sign of acceptance for Serpent.
A few days after, Serpent met the boy named Murkan, who would be his aprentice in the deadly arts.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ana's Garden [NESW]
Lowset bushes, their leaves a glossy purple and green, sprawl in
semi-orderly ranks beneath a scattering of agafari and pymlithe trees, a
network of gravelled paths leading along through the park area. Denizens of
the city wander through the pathways, talking in small clusters or moving
silently towards some other destination.
The short, obsidian-eyed youth is sitting on a small grey stone bench.
A slim-bodied, blonde-haired elf lounges on a bench, watching the crowds.
A Tuluki street slave stands sweeping the ground clear of dust.
A supple, dark-eyed dancer sits on the grass, clapping out the time.
A short, red-haired dancer moves through the crowd, collecting donations.
A lazy-eyed, wide-hipped dancer sways in time to a softly beaten rhythm.
A cross-eyed, green-haired half-giant crouches, sniffing at some flowers.
The male wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap leads the short,
obsidian-eyed youth to a small grey stone bench.
You sit on a small grey stone bench.
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Do you know a lot about northern templars?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the delicate, ebon-curled woman with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"A lot? I don't think anyone knows a lot about anything.. But.. Yeah, I think I know some."
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"*amusement* Serpent... I am sure you know a lot about lot of things. Would be possible to meet
you... perhaps in a few weeks?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"I don't think it is easy to meet me these days. Is it hard to pass it along the way? Or
untrusty?"
The male wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap glances at a
lazy-eyed, wide-hipped dancer, as he nods absently.
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Hmm... you are hiding? That is... unfortunate, indeed. Let me think how to word the question.
"
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Do all northern templars have the same powers?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"Sure. You shoot it. I can prepare an answer probably."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"Oh.."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"No. Not to my observation."
At your seat, the short, obsidian-eyed youth says in northern-accented sirihish, grimacing
lightly as he grips his stomach tightly:
"So the Faithful seem to favor me.. I can't complain.. Though I wish I could've found one,
before I ended up starving like this.."
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Samil and Eunoli?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"Different I would say."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, his gaze turning to the short,
obsidian-eyed youth:
"Slow it down or you will choke."
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Alright. I thank you, Serpent. Your company is alright, I heard?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"Yes. She is fine. We have a cute son here."
The male wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap's gaze return to a
lazy-eyed, wide-hipped dancer, beaming a veiled smile to her performance.
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Ahh, excellent. And its name?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"Sen.. Sen Hiatus. A little troublemaker I would say."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"And for your request.."
At your seat, the short, obsidian-eyed youth says in northern-accented sirihish, furrowing his
brows curiously as he turns his head towards you, seemingly ignorant of the dancing figures close
by:
"Your accent .. it's different from those others which I've heard.. Are you from the South?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"I can give you a more detailed answer once I can meet you."
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Excellent. Let me know once it is possible."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"Of course."
You dissolve the psychic link.
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
A lazy-eyed, wide-hipped dancer stretches out a leg, toes pointed into the air, leaning back on her
other leg as she dances.
At your seat, you say in sirihish, dipping his head with a smile
to a lazy-eyed, wide-hipped dancer:
"We can say that.."
At your seat, the short, obsidian-eyed youth says in northern-accented sirihish, scratching the
back of his neck as a mark of confusion crosses his facial features, finally turning his gaze
towards a lazy-eyed, wide-hipped dancer with a blank expression:
"Huh.. Why would.. you wish to train me, then?"
A lazy-eyed, wide-hipped dancer moves with a languid, sinuous twist of her shoulders.
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Because I am going to get paid for that."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, turning to the short,
obsidian-eyed youth, staring at him in the face:
"Now.. The purpose of this little sit down and talk, Murkan.."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Is to introduce me who I am."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"I mean.. Introduce -you-."
At your seat, the short, obsidian-eyed youth says in northern-accented sirihish, dipping his
head slowly, several times:
"I understand.."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, eyes narrowing to slits behind
his facewrap:
"Now you saw me, you hear me. You know I am a foreigner scum.."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"And you will probably hate me. Everybody does."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"I don't care if you do."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"But.. You will respect me, so long I am your trainer."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Hate. Temper.. Feel humiliated, whatever."
At your seat, the short, obsidian-eyed youth says in northern-accented sirihish, dipping his
head slowly, narrowing his gaze towards his small feet:
"I am allowed to live in the grace of the Faithful to do a task.. As long as you can train me
in that task, you will have my respect, and jot my hatred."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with a slow nod, not leaving
his gaze from the short, obsidian-eyed youth's face:
"That is good.. That is what I want to hear."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, exhaling a soft breath, his
gaze turning back to the performers:
"That is all for now"
The late, red sun descends toward the western horizon.
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with a dismissive gesture:
"You can go."
At your seat, the short, obsidian-eyed youth says in northern-accented sirihish, rubbing his
stomach with a content sigh:
"Very well. Contact me whenever you wish.. to begin."
The short, obsidian-eyed youth stands up from a small grey stone bench.
The short, obsidian-eyed youth bows his head lightly within your direction, stepping back from a
small grey stone bench, grasping onto the bundle inbetween his small hands.
Lowering his gaze towards his bundle of cooked meat, the short, obsidian-eyed youth says, in
northern-accented sirihish:
"Thank you.."
A lazy-eyed, wide-hipped dancer beckons in invitation to a passerby, leaning close to him as she
dances towards him.
The short, obsidian-eyed youth walks south.
The male wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap glances between a lazy-eyed, wide-hipped dancer and the passerby, grinning impishly.
A steady jingle comes from the tambourine as a lazy-eyed, wide-hipped dancer shakes it.
The male wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap walks over a short, red-haired dancer, passing a small coin pouch.
In a quiet tone, you say, in sirihish:
"Thanks for the entertainment."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A day after in Sanctuary, Serpent meets Corporal Vaashir, an old friend... or acquintance.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Sun King's Sanctuary [NESWUD]
A polished, white marble floor covers the ground of this expansive
room, gleaming under the light of a large glass chandelier that hangs
overhead. A semi-circular bar, made of hard-grained wood painted a deep
black, extends from the eastern wall, several high-backed barstools sitting
around it. The walls of this room are brightly decorated, with several
elaborate paintings placed carefully for unobstructed view, and shelves
holding many exotic potted plants, blooming with bright red and white
flowers. Two large stained-glass windows, decorated with elaborate sun
symbols, adorn the northwest and southeast corners of the room.
Several decoratively carved tables fill this room, while a polished
leather couch nearly ten cords in length sprawls along the northern wall. A
stately spiral staircase sits in the center of the room, winding upwards
toward the common rooms of the second floor. The sounds of laughter and
music can be heard from a doorway along the western wall, while the scents
of cooked meat waft in from the east. A small, straight stairway sits along
the northern wall, ending at a slightly raised loft and a large carven
baobab door sits in the southern wall, leading out onto the North Road
outside.
An empty mug of rough grey soapstone has been placed here.
The Tuluk bulletin board is here propped up on a stand.
The slim, golden-haired woman is here moving about the room.
The young, Jihae-haired man is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The wiry, amethyst-eyed woman stands here, gaze alert.
The bulky, golden-bearded man is sitting at a highly polished table.
The light-tressed young man is sitting at a highly polished table.
The slight, bony-faced man is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The long-haired, middle-aged man stands behind the counter.
The gaunt, black-haired man is here, leaning on the bar.
The tall, well-groomed man sits here on a plush couch.
The short haired, heavy-set man stands here mug in-hand.
The scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf looks up at you.
The svelte, loreshi-tressed woman has arrived from the south.
At a highly polished table, you overhear the bulky, golden-bearded man say in northern-accented
sirihish, lacing his fat hands over his swelling gut:
"Tell me. How well known are you in the Black City? Favorably?"
Carrying her blue and purple ceramic bottle in one hand, the svelte, loreshi-tressed woman weaves
through the crowd across the marble floor.
The scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf sends you a telepathic message:
"Well, it's been a while since I've seen you around here..."
At a highly polished table, you overhear the light-tressed young man say in northern-accented
sirihish, with a slight shake of his head:
"Not favorably, Chosen Lord.. especially by those disinterested in trade. It is a very
unhospitable place."
At a highly polished table, you overhear the bulky, golden-bearded man say in northern-accented
sirihish, chucling suddenly before speaking:
"And no, I'm not thinking you may be in league with those barbarians!"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf:
"Yes. It has. You are doing good, I suppose?"
The scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf sends you a telepathic message:
"Not too badly... and yourself?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf:
"Not good. But not bad either. Came here with a couple companions, and I guess I will have to
stay here for a while."
The scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf sends you a telepathic message:
"I see. Anything I can help with?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf:
"Actually, I believe there is something you can help."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf:
"As I said I came with a couple of companions. One woman, near twenty three years old and
one baby."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf:
"The woman has sleekly built body, green eyes, and is blonde braided hair."
At a highly polished table, you overhear the bulky, golden-bearded man say in northern-accented
sirihish, smiling broadly at the light-tressed young man:
"Of course! Not only would you be serving our glorious City, but also myself."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf:
"The baby is just a few weeks old. Has my eyes, and blonde hair. What I would ask is.."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf:
"These two, just like me are "southern scums"."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf:
"I believe I can take care of myself when it comes to it. But I don't think they can."
The male wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap rubs his temple
slowly, with a soft grunt.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf:
"Would you be able to help them, if they were in some kind of trouble?"
The scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf sends you a telepathic message:
"I will protect them to the best of my ability, just as if they were citizens..."
The scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf stops using a jeweled, ivory-hilted bone longsword.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf:
"Thank you. I think I can pay you for your troubles in it."
The scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf loads a jeweled, ivory-hilted bone longsword into an
ivory-bound wooden scabbard with a *snap*.
At a highly polished table, you overhear the bulky, golden-bearded man say in northern-accented
sirihish, a grin appearing upon his fat face:
"I think you stand a very good chance of meeting with them and surviving the encounter, to
deliver my offer to their leaders."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf:
"Aside from these two, I think the rest is an easy task."
You send a telepathic message to the scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf:
"I mean.. For me."
The scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf sends you a telepathic message:
"We can worry about that later... tell them to seek me out if they need help."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf:
"Thank you. I will tell it now."
The scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf sends you a telepathic message:
"What is her name"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf:
"Sophie."
The scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf sends you a telepathic message:
"Alright then... tell Sophie if she needs me, find myself or ask any Legionnaire for Corporal
Vaashir. They will find my mind."
The male wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap massages to his
temple with a pair of pale fingers.
The scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf sends you a telepathic message:
"Hope business goes well for you."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Thus he ensured their safety, or so he thought. A few weeks after, he realized he was wrong.
After all, few things stayed as expected in Zalanthas.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Submitter's note:
Haadith died, but the concequences of his actions still echoed even
after his death. Veralius Borsail wanted to destroy everything
that was left of...
Continue Reading...
