Original Submissions

• 

  Stone Hand's Song by Wayani
  Added on Aug 12, 2012

  Composed by Seeker Ayla of Konviwedu for the Byn's half-giant, Stone Hand. He had asked her if she could make him wings so that he might fly, but died before she could finish her task.

  ---

  Bound to the ground by the thickness of the breeze,
  the volume of my body and the thud of my feet.
  
  I should like to flit through the air like a verrin,
  but my arms are too wide, my limbs thick like meat.
  
  So I ask you, pretty crafter, what do you know of fashioning wings?
  Would it be a hard thing to accomplish, for someone as big as me?
  
  I'll pay you anything if you can give me something,
  that'll make me fly through the desert with ease.
  
  So while you begin to sew the feathers, lacing them with string,
  I'll lie down and rest and dream of someday flying on the breeze.
  

  Bound to the ground by the thickness of the breeze,
  the volume of my body and the thud of my feet.
  
  I should like to flit through the air like a verrin,
  but my arms are too wide, my limbs thick like meat.
  
  So I ask you, pretty crafter, what do you know of fashioning wings?
  Would it be a hard thing to...
  Continue Reading...
• 

  A Dwarven "Romance" by Youngervaleria
  Added on Aug 12, 2012

  This is a tale about Onyxi, a young dwarf who joined the Byn in order to scope it out for male dwarves with the intent of using them to help her with her focus, and to learn ‘protection skills’ also of value to her focus.

  ---

  This story has been edited to remove a lot of the superfluous spammy material, typographical errors, and things not directly related to the story.  Onyxi in brief:

   

  You are Onyxi, a Runner of the T'zai Byn.

  Keywords: ebon-skinned matronly dwarf

  Sdesc: the ebon-skinned, matronly dwarf

  Objective: To create an excellent family (step one, find the ideal male.)

   

  You are 31 years, 1 months, and 47 days old, which by your race and appearance is young.

  You are 51 inches tall, and weigh 9 ten-stone.

  Your strength is very good, your agility is good, your wisdom is poor, and your endurance is good.

  You are neither hungry nor thirsty.

  Your health is 129(129), you have 115(126) stamina, and 121(121) stun.

  You have been playing for 1 days and 18 hours.

   

  The dwarf before you is short for her race and is nearly as wide as she is tall.  Her shoulders are slightly more narrow than her flaring hips, which support an expansive bottom.  Though she is obviously very muscular, her physique is padded with a comfortable layer of fat that makes her muscles lack definition.  If the wide hips were not enough of an indication that this dwarf is female, her very large and pendulous bosom would be a dead giveaway to even the most dense of half-giants.  The dwarf's skin is a nearly uniform ebon color, broken by the lighter lines of scars which mostly appear on the backs of her arms.  Almost circularly round, her face sports chubby cheeks and a defined double-chin, as well as a bulbous nose and expressively ginka-colored lips.  Her almond-shaped eyes are a lighter shade of brown, set far forward and seeming to be lacking any kind of eyebrow crease.  The age lines in the corners make them seem perpetually squinted.

   

  ***

   

  (Onyxi is hanging around the Byn kitchen, eating stew, when her Sergeant walks in.  As she plows through several bowls of stew, he sits down to chat.)

   

  Scooping it into her mouth with her fingers, you eat part of your bowl of stew.

   

  At your table, the mesh-scarred dwarf says in sirihish:

       "Stumps seem to all have healthy appetites. Probably why we are not as hideously thin as humans."

   

  At your table, you say in sirihish, around a mouthful of stew:

       "Oy Sarge.  Glad I'm not loosin' too much fat.  Doin' all this work.  Spent a long time puttin' it on."

   

  At your table, the mesh-scarred dwarf says in sirihish, to you:

       "Yes shows you can care for yourself. And probably a couple little stumps."

   

  At your table, you say in sirihish, squinting speculatively at the mesh-scarred dwarf:

       "Oy, you think so?  Got a bit of work t' do before getting there I think.  No place t' raise them yet."

   

  You feel pleased.

   

  You think:

       "Well.  At least I look like I could have a good family."

   

  At your table, the mesh-scarred dwarf says in sirihish, to you:

       "What sort of place are you going to get?"

   

  At your table, the mesh-scarred dwarf says in sirihish:

       "Or planning to get?"

   

  At your table, you say in sirihish, speculatively, making a boxy gesture in the air:

       "Just somethin' with four walls and a door.  Don't need a lot of space.  But need something you're not sharin' with a bunch of people."

   

  A loud horn blast sounds from the southwest.

   

  At your table, you say in sirihish, counting on her fingers:

       "Need t' make enough t' get it, and stock it with food and water.  I'm working on protection, here.  And healin'--"

   

  At your table, the mesh-scarred dwarf says in sirihish:

       "Like your own house or do you mean an apartment?"

   

  At your table, you say in sirihish, turning back to the mesh-scarred dwarf with enthusiasm, after giving a distracted glance toward the yard:

       "An apartment would do I think, Sarge.  As long as it wasn't fallin' apart.  Don't want little ones fallin' through holes in the floor."

   

  At your table, you say in sirihish, head bobbing consideringly:

       "And our little ones can be so little."

   

  You feel herself getting drawn into her plans.

   

  You think:

       "And some good decoration."

   

  The mesh-scarred dwarf nods at you.

   

  At your table, the mesh-scarred dwarf says in sirihish:

       "They are small but wide."

   

  At your table, you say in sirihish, musingly sketching a circle in the air:

       "A pile of nice soft shit.  Rugs and pillows.  That ought t' do to bed a couple.  Oy Sarge, but small legs.  I'm thinkin', a little one gets a foot caught in the floor, that's trouble."

   

  At your table, you say in sirihish, solemnly:

       "Broke some of my toes like that, once, place I had with my da.  A lot of weight t' fuck around with."

   

  You feel a picture unfolding in her mind of a small, well-repaired, cozy place to house a little family.

   

  At your table, the mesh-scarred dwarf says in sirihish, to you:

       "As interested as I am about getting a place and making babies with you, you better get to training."

   

  At your table, you say in sirihish, giving her head a little shake, blankly:

       "Trainin'?"

   

  At your table, you say in sirihish, craning her neck and peering out into the yard:

       "Oy, training.  Lost track of time.  Sorry Sarge.  And I think you'd likely make fine babies.  Been watchin'.  Strong and smart.  No skin problems.  Good head."

   

  Hopping up, you stand up from a long, chipped stone table, hustling for the yard.

   

  (Onyxi wanders out to training.  Between bouts, she Ways Dregg.)

   

  You think:

       "Let's see.  Pillows and rugs.  That's a really good idea.  Can't forget that one."

   

  The mesh-scarred dwarf sends you a telepathic message:

       "So I'd assume you know the best of the apartments in town?"

   

  You send a telepathic message to the mesh-scarred dwarf:

       "Probably not the best, Sarge.  The best are likely too expensive, even after I make Trooper and hopefully start having some income.  I know a few that are tolerable, though, and likely good enough."

   

  You send a telepathic message to the mesh-scarred dwarf:

       "Definitely not where I grew up, or the tenements I stayed in after my da ran off.  Those are definitely too run down for little ones.  I'd have to investigate.  It's part of the plan."

   

  The mesh-scarred dwarf sends you a telepathic message:

       "I can't find an empty apartment in a respectable building. Oh well."

   

  You send a telepathic message to the mesh-scarred dwarf:

       "Oy Sarge.  Sorry for not getting back to you, yet.  Rotating merchant, Byn, gith, takes some concentration.  I figure it'll take patience.  Good rooms aren't always easy to come by."

   

  You send a telepathic message to the mesh-scarred dwarf:

       "Other people got families... some of them even care about them enough to give them a good place.  But I'm gith, a minute."

   

  (Training eventually ends, and Onyxi wanders back to the mess hall.

   

  The ebon-skinned, matronly dwarf straightens long enough to salute the mesh-scarred dwarf, before settling her elbows back down onto a long, chipped stone table and leaning on them.

   

  At your table, the mesh-scarred dwarf says in mirukkim, to you, cheeks puffing out:

       "Don't let me ..pressure you about anything."

   

  At your table, the mesh-scarred dwarf says in mirukkim, to you:

       "I..am fairly wealthy for a grebber and I prefer having a female partner for everything basically. And I've had apartments before."

   

  At your table, the mesh-scarred dwarf says in mirukkim, to you, shaking his head:

       "I...bah."

   

  At your table, you say in mirukkim, squinting speculatively at the mesh-scarred dwarf:

       "I'm not of a mind to, it's too important.  Even though you're my Sarge.  You're family oriented?"

   

  You think:

       "If he's wealthy, things could move on a bit more quickly.  If he's family oriented... I'd not /depend/ on him for the protection, but two might be better than one.  If not, it'll probably bear more thinking on."

   

  You feel patient.

   

  At your table, the mesh-scarred dwarf says in mirukkim, to you:

       "I am. If they'd go with me when the time comes."

   

  At your table, the mesh-scarred dwarf says in mirukkim, to you:

       "My sergeant had her way with me when I first joined. But she never let me have special treatment."

   

  At your table, you say in mirukkim, lifting her brows at the mesh-scarred dwarf, cautiously:

       "Just the kids, or the female as well?  And I have no mind for special treatments.  That's unimportant in comparison."

   

  Your mood is now intent.

   

  At your table, the mesh-scarred dwarf says in mirukkim, to you:

       "Everyone I'd hope. But you know how hard it is for us to agree on things."

   

  At your table, you say in mirukkim, nodding solemnly to the mesh-scarred dwarf:

       "Aye.  That's why all of my plans have been for me and the kids.  That's what's important.  If the man wanted to be part of my family... I might have to revise some plans."

   

  At your table, you say in mirukkim, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully as she starts drumming her fingertips on a long, chipped stone table:

       "It'd definitely warrant a revision of timetables.  I'd planned on needing to make Trooper for the financial support, and suspected it'd take longer to find..."

   

  At your table, you say in mirukkim, at length:

       "... someone suitable."

   

  At your table, the mesh-scarred dwarf says in mirukkim:

       "No rush."

   

  At your table, the mesh-scarred dwarf says in mirukkim, with a wink at you:

       "I'm sure you'll find someone better and richer in no time anyway."

   

  At your table, you say in mirukkim, flashing a brief, crook-toothed grin:

       "Patience is good.  I'm plenty young enough to have time to get things right.  I'm just talking."

   

  At your table, you say in mirukkim, rolling her eyes at the mesh-scarred dwarf:

       "Richer is unimportant when considered against skin quality and survivability.  If the man ends up walking off, and I've always suspected it'd happen when interests diverged, quality children are more important."

   

  At your table, the mesh-scarred dwarf says in mirukkim, to you:

       "Aye. It is a wonder there are any of us around."

   

  A loud horn blast sounds from the southwest.

   

  At your table, you say in mirukkim, nodding solemnly to the mesh-scarred dwarf:

       "Aye, it is sometimes to me as well.  I guess I was lucky, in that my da at least managed to keep me until I was old enough to keep myself before he disappeared.  Not everyone is."

   

  At your table, the mesh-scarred dwarf says in mirukkim:

       "I sort of ran off when the kanks died."

   

  At your table, the mesh-scarred dwarf says in mirukkim:

       "I guess my parents were busy."

   

  At your table, the mesh-scarred dwarf says in mirukkim:

       "In the end maybe they were right. All these years later and I am doing well."

   

  At your table, the mesh-scarred dwarf says in mirukkim:

       "It was so long ago and my memories fuzzy. I really can't be angry for some reason."

   

  At your table, you say in mirukkim, puffing up her shoulders:

       "Aye sir, you turned out.  But that's left to chance too often.  I've seen plenty of less happier endings.  I just won't have it for my kids.  I'm going to do better than that.  They'll at least have me."

   

  At your table, you say in mirukkim, gesturing in a broad circle:

       "And I'll be able to protect them, and support them, and do basic healing when it's needed, that's the intent at least."

   

  The mesh-scarred dwarf says to you, in mirukkim:

       "Then you better get your fine ass to training runner."

   

  Squinting toward the yard, you say, in mirukkim:

       "Aye.  Sorry Sarge.  The topic gets me going."

   

  Quickly, you stand up from a long, chipped stone table.

   

  (Onyxi goes back to training.  A couple of weeks later, Dregg and Onyxi are leaving the Byn training hall, where Dregg was sparring with Meso and Lew.  Dregg lost the final match to Meso.)

   

  The mesh-scarred dwarf waves his overlong arm in a wave.

   

  With a nod to the mesh-scarred dwarf and nod to the others, the wide-faced dwarf says, in mirukkim:

       "Shade and water."

   

  The jade-eyed, black skinned dwarf says to you, in sirihish:

       "It was nice to see you."

   

  The mesh-scarred dwarf says to you, in mirukkim:

       "You can watch me dress if you like."

   

  With a gravelly chuckle, you say to the mesh-scarred dwarf, in mirukkim:

       "But can't watch Red Meso.  I see how this works."

   

  The mesh-scarred dwarf says to you, in mirukkim:

       "You get to have his babies now anyway hah."

   

  (They begin walk to the storage room, for Dregg to change.)

   

  The mesh-scarred dwarf asks you, in mirukkim:

       "You looking for the best specimen right?"

   

  With a brief squint, you say to the mesh-scarred dwarf, in mirukkim:

       "Never meaning any disrespect to the Red, but have you seen his skin?  It's very... worrisome.  Though I like him personally."

   

  The mesh-scarred dwarf looks over his own skin and squints.

   

  The mesh-scarred dwarf asks, in mirukkim:

       "What is wrong with his skin?"

   

  Making as if to brush at her arm, you say to the mesh-scarred dwarf, in mirukkim:

       "It's flaky.  Pieces peeling off all over.  Skin like that worries me."

   

  (Background information: Onyxi is obsessed with skin quality because her first child was born a scaly-skinned mutant after her first mate abandoned her to pursue his focus.  The situation was extremely shameful to Onyxi because she reasoned that a mutant could never belong to an ‘excellent’ family.  After several unsuccessful attempts to cure its skin condition, Onyxi killed it because a mutant would make her family less than excellent.)

   

  The mesh-scarred dwarf says, in mirukkim:

       "I didn't notice."

   

  The mesh-scarred dwarf rubs at his bulbous nose for a few moments then shakes his head again.

   

  With a brief, crook-toothed grin, you say to the mesh-scarred dwarf, in mirukkim:

       "I tend to notice.  I wonder how much blood him and his brother share, it seems to have skipped him."

   

  The mesh-scarred dwarf says, in mirukkim:

       "If they say they are brothers I would not question it."

   

  Dropping her chin back down, you say to the mesh-scarred dwarf, in mirukkim:

       "Oy Sarge, to most people I wouldn't speak on it.  But same mother and father, or just shared one, or... they said their father used to pick up strays.  They could be brother by raising."

   

  After a moment, musingly, you say, in mirukkim:

       "He's probably too risky.  I'm not going to ask.  That'd be an offensive question."

   

  The mesh-scarred dwarf says to you, in mirukkim:

       "I can't remember my parents well."

   

  Nodding soberly, you say to the mesh-scarred dwarf, in mirukkim:

       "Most of our kind can't that I've found, Sarge.  Don't know one or both.  My ma, I have no idea.  She did something with silt skimmers.  Could never get anything about her out of my da."

   

  The mesh-scarred dwarf says to you, in mirukkim:

       "I found my purpose too early and was on my way I think."

   

  You think:

       "It's really a shame about the parentless nature of dwarves.  But my kids will have better done by them, that's for sure."

   

  Squinting at him for a moment, you say to the mesh-scarred dwarf, in mirukkim:

       "Oy Sarge.  If the kid's ready, the kid's ready.  Chances are no one's going to hold them back.  I'd have appreciated a little more parenting, myself."

   

  The mesh-scarred dwarf checks over his gear.

   

  The mesh-scarred dwarf asks you, in mirukkim:

       "How do I look?"

   

  Grumbling, you say, in mirukkim:

       "Didn't even leave enough advance rent on the apartment.  Ended up losing all of the fixing up I'd done.  Thanks da for n--"

   

  Cutting off, you look at the mesh-scarred dwarf.

  Scars apparently cover this squat humanoid from head to toe.  There is such a multitude that they cross each other in a crude and random mesh pattern.  His leathery skin is a dull reddish color with the slightly raised scar tissue having a pinkish hue.  He stands bowlegged, with his legs appearing short and thick for even one of his kind.  Extending from his sides are arms appearing too long for him.  Appearing wide and and slender, his hands are almost as out of place as his arms.  His red eyes are sunken deep under his brow on either side of a bulbous nose.  His lips are thick and perpetually cracked and dry, exposing a few cracked and missing teeth when he speaks.  Small scarcely pointed ears frame his wide lopsided face.  A cumbersome, heavily muscled torso dominates his form.   Gently slumping shoulders lead down to a protruding belly that appears to be pure muscle.  His wide chest expands generously with each inhalation of breath, expansive nostrils seeming to flare regularly. 

  (He's also wearing a bunch of armor.)

   

  After a minute of squinting the mesh-scarred dwarf up and down, you say, in mirukkim:

       "Just like usual Sarge."

   

  Snorting softly, the mesh-scarred dwarf asks you, in mirukkim:

       "Aye. What happn to your Da?"

   

  Briskly, you say to the mesh-scarred dwarf, in mirukkim:

       "The rinth."

   

  You feel simmering resentment still.

   

  The mesh-scarred dwarf asks you, in mirukkim:

       "Do you want to go inspect that building?"

   

  Grinning briefly, you say to the mesh-scarred dwarf, in mirukkim:

       "Oy.  I was all curious about that, before all the excitement happened."

   

  The mesh-scarred dwarf exclaims to you, in mirukkim:

       "Let's go before the week starts then!"

   

  (Walking ensues, an apartment building is reached.)

   

  A Small Entry Room [N, S]

     This small room serves as a sort of barrier between the tenament within, and the harsh sandstorms that often plague the city streets just outside its southern door.  Sparsely decorated, it is lit by pungent-smelling, flickering sconces which dole out weak but adequate light. To the north, a sand-encrusted rug, reddish and worn, leads down a wide hallway, while a doorway leads south to the Commoner's Quarter. 

  The mesh-scarred dwarf is standing here, looking a bit winded.

  The stern, massive man leans against the doorway lazily.

   

  Craning her neck as she peers around, you say, in mirukkim:

       "Less run down than where I grew up, certainly.  The building anyway."

   

  You begin talking about topics.

  The stern, massive man says, in sirihish:

       "Dunno much, I jes' watch over these apartments."

   

  The mesh-scarred dwarf asks you, in mirukkim:

       "Want to look over the room he has?"

   

  The mesh-scarred dwarf says to you, in mirukkim:

       "I used to have an apartment here long ago. Not too bad but you probably would have to eyeball it for yourself."

   

  After turning away from squinting at the stern, massive man, you say to the mesh-scarred dwarf, in mirukkim:

       "Aye Sarge, it's probably the only way we'll learn anything about it.  This hairy doesn't know anything, he says.  Though it may be a waste of coin.  I guess that's up to you."

   

  You think:

       "I'd really like to see it."

   

  The mesh-scarred dwarf says to you, in mirukkim:

       "Coins are worth less than information."

   

  The ebon-skinned, matronly dwarf nods firmly.

   

  Taking the coins, the stern, massive man says to the mesh-scarred dwarf, in sirihish:

       "Thank you.  Your room is the one with hide on it."

   

  (They walk to the room.)

   

  A Small Bedroom [E, Quit, Save]

     Small and efficient, this room is dominated by a comfortable bed with a small table resting beside it.  Set into one wall are a series of shelves, upon which small trinkets and figurines can be placed.  A large maroon hide rug stretches across the hard-packed dirt floor, covering it nearly to the walls.  A small closet door rests in one wall. 

  The mesh-scarred dwarf is standing here, looking a bit winded.

   

  The mesh-scarred dwarf gets his blue-striped keg from a small bone closet.

   

  The mesh-scarred dwarf says, in mirukkim:

       "Cleaning fluid."

   

  You feel absorbed in analyzing the room.

   

  The ebon-skinned, matronly dwarf gives the mesh-scarred dwarf a distracted nod as she raps a fist firmly against the door, then begins wandering the walls, occasionally bending to peer or poke at a spot.

   

  Squinting, the mesh-scarred dwarf says, in mirukkim:

       "Hmm."

   

  Mumbling to herself, you say, in mirukkim:

       "Solid walls.  Door's a bit iffy, but not likely to be trouble for little ones.  Floor.  Dirt!  No slats to get feet caught in.  Has a rug.  It'll need a few more.  Little ones tend to fall..."

   

  Sticking her whole head into it, you look in a small bone closet.

   

  The mesh-scarred dwarf sits on an etched-bone framed bed.

   

  Rapping the closet door idly as she makes her circuit, you say, in mirukkim:

       "Needs some sanding.  This is splintering some, don't want bone caught in fingers.  Could lead to infection.  Windows?  None.  Good.  Nothing to fall out of."

   

  Your new ldesc is:

  The ebon-skinned, matronly dwarf prowls the room.

   

  The ebon-skinned, matronly dwarf peers at the shelves, puffing out her cheeks.

   

  Cheeks puffing out, the mesh-scarred dwarf says to you, in mirukkim:

       "Now we know what this building is like."

   

  The mesh-scarred dwarf says to you, in mirukkim:

       "Even though it could be fun, you might hold off on making babies until you get better at protecting."

   

  Holding up his hands, the mesh-scarred dwarf says to you, in mirukkim:

       "It’s not for me to tell you how to do your life's work tho. Just something that came to my mind."

   

  You think:

       "Shelves.  Attached to the wall.  That's good.  Still nothing heavy or sharp."

   

  After giving a set of grey stone shelves a firm yank, you say to the mesh-scarred dwarf, in mirukkim:

       "Aye.  Fun and work.  Hmm."

   

  With a chuckle, the mesh-scarred dwarf asks you, in mirukkim:

       "Which is the fun part?"

   

  The mesh-scarred dwarf touches his temples, nostrils flaring briefly.

   

  Squinting thoughtfully, you say to the mesh-scarred dwarf, in mirukkim:

       "Never was the intent to have the kids as a runner.  Just don't think that'd work out well.  The plan was always at least Trooper.  Then, you know you're trained in protection, with an income..."

   

  The mesh-scarred dwarf says to you, in mirukkim:

       "I think we boot you out while you got your babies inside you."

   

  The mesh-scarred dwarf says to you, in mirukkim:

       "Can't spar closer to birth anyway."

   

  Crossing her arms with a nod and drumming her fingers against them, you say to the mesh-scarred dwarf, in mirukkim:

       "Aye.  Savings.  Savings would be important.  It's going to take some further planning, certainly."

   

  The mesh-scarred dwarf says to you, in mirukkim:

       "I have a lot saved. Enough for years on end. But I don't want to pressure you. Pick who you want."

   

  The mesh-scarred dwarf says to you, in mirukkim:

       "And I feel like its dawn already. You'll have plenty of time to inspect the place. Maybe we'll find a better one."

   

  The mesh-scarred dwarf drops many coins.

   

  The mesh-scarred dwarf says, in mirukkim:

       "Leave the coins. If they are gone soon we know this place is robbed too often."

   

  Squinting briefly, you look at a pile of allanaki coins, then nods.

   

  The mesh-scarred dwarf says to you, in mirukkim:

       "Hardly anyone can resist picking up coins. I know I probably couldn't."

   

  Nodding briskly, you say to the mesh-scarred dwarf, in mirukkim:

       "Aye Sarge.  I'll try not to be distracted at training, thinking about it.  Fact is, I find you pretty likely, in comparison to most of the men I've seen around lately."

   

  Rambling as she shuffles toward the door, you say to the mesh-scarred dwarf, in mirukkim:

       "Aye, coins.  But you've got high survivability.  And good skin.  I'll admit Sarge that your limbs are a bit oddly shaped, but I've never seen that slow you down, sands or sparring."

   

  The mesh-scarred dwarf says to you, in mirukkim:

       "I'll take that as a compliment. I got some reports to do. Make sure you lock the door so it’s a true test. Its had benefits and drawbacks."

   

  The mesh-scarred dwarf says to you, in mirukkim:

       "Helps for boxing and climbing."

   

  Musing distractedly, you say, in mirukkim:

       "Skin, though.  That turns into other problems... aye Sarge, I should get running."

   

  The mesh-scarred dwarf says to you, in mirukkim:

       "Aye."

   

  With a gravelly chuckle, you say to the mesh-scarred dwarf, in mirukkim:

       "No doubt see you around.  Shade."

   

  (Onyxi heads out, for training, thinking while she walks.)

   

  You think:

       "Well.  Well.  It's not like you can't decide differently later."

   

  You think:

       "There would certainly be benefits in the arrangement."

   

  You think:

       "You'd need coins."

   

  You think:

       "If he's got the funding... well, I wouldn't rely on that.  The plan was never to rely on the man."

   

  (Onyxi wanders into training.)

   

  Your mood is now distracted.

   

  Moving out of the ring, the broad-shouldered, beryl-eyed man says, in sirihish:

       "s'a'righ'.  You three 'ave a go a' one another."

   

  As she shuffles across the hall with a distracted expression, you say, in sirihish:

       "Eh?  Oh.  Oy."

   

  (Onyxi pulls her training things out of her backpack, then just stands there holding them.)

   

  You think:

       "Training.  But just thinking about... you could work on turning that place into a proper home.  If it doesn't get stolen from all that often."

   

  You think:

       "It's a good thing those shelves are attached to the walls.  Still, nothing heavy or sharp on them.  Little ones like to climb and pull things down onto themselves."

   

  Squinting briefly, you say, in sirihish:

       "Someone said somethin' about a round?  Sorry.  My thoughts aren't turnin'

  off so easy today."

   

  The petite, green-lipped female says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:

       "Guess it's with me."

   

  Flashing a brief grin, you say to the petite, green-lipped female, in sirihish:

       "Oy Elly.  I'll, ah... ring."

   

  The ebon-skinned, matronly dwarf shuffles over to an empty ring, only pausing a moment to squint off into space.

   

  You think:

       "It'll need a couple of rugs, though.  Good rugs."

   

  The petite, green-lipped female says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:

       "Ready when you are."

   

  With a brisk shake of her head, then a nod, you say to the petite, green-lipped female, in sirihish:

       "Oy.  Ready as I'm likely t' be.  You come on at me."

   

  (Training commences, Onyxi barely notices, then the round ends.)

   

  The broad-shouldered, beryl-eyed man says, in sirihish:

       "Good match...."

   

  Mumbling as she shuffles out of the circle, you say, in sirihish:

       "Couple different color rugs, maybe.  Somethin' festive."

   

  A bit raggedly, the petite, green-lipped female says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:

       "Good round."

   

  Dropping down by her bag, the petite, green-lipped female sits down to rest.

   

  Jerking around, with a grin, you say to the petite, green-lipped female, in sirihish:

       "Oy.  Good round."

   

  Your new ldesc is:

  The ebon-skinned, matronly dwarf stands around with a blank expression.

   

  The ebon-skinned, matronly dwarf shuffles half way over to the padded wall, then stops, squinting at the ground.

   

  (Onyxi stands around for a while longer, then wanders distractedly off to chores.  Eventually she has a baby with Dregg, keeps it in the apartment, cannot bear to have another people around it because they might screw it up, becomes unplayable, and is returned to the virtual world.  I frequently picture her out there somewhere, in an apartment, raising babies.)

  This

  story has been edited to remove a lot of the superfluous spammy material,

  typographical errors, and things not directly related to the story.  Onyxi

  in brief:

   

  You are Onyxi, a

  Runner of the T'zai Byn.

  Keywords: ebon-skinned

  matronly dwarf

  Sdesc: the

  ebon-skinned,...

  
  Continue Reading...
• 

  Double Circle Darkness by Bebop
  Added on Jul 11, 2012

  A song composed and sang by Sergeant Buckle Irofel before exile and after, usually substituting the "I" in the song to the name of some other bar patron (usually someone scrawny or sweet) to give the grim song a sense of playfulness.

  ---

  When the sands and I come to claim you
  I hope you shall prepare
  For I shall show no mercy
  When I smell blood in the air
  
  My eye is on my prey now
  There is little point in running
  The stride of your beast of burden
  Is of no consequence to my cunning
  
  The night is falling all around you
  Darkness and I are not far behind
  The sands are an ally to finality
  And there is no man Death doesn't find
  
  It is quiet unfortunate for you
  To be dealing with the likes of me
  My blade is something seen by many
  But something none have lived to see
  
  If you knew what was approaching
  You would take your odds with a tainted meal
  Than chance a dance, in the sand
  With the Moons and myself at your heel
  
  So one last word of precaution
  A warning should you choose to heed it
  If you see me pray for luck
  'Cause when I come, you're going to need it

  When the sands and I come to claim you
  I hope you shall prepare
  For I shall show no mercy
  When I smell blood in the air
  
  My eye is on my prey now
  There is little point in running
  The stride of your beast of burden
  Is of no consequence to my cunning
  
  The night is falling all around you
  Darkness and I are...
  Continue Reading...
• 

  Close Shave by MarauderMoe
  Added on Jun 16, 2012

  A song purchased from an old grebber and sung by Whatsit Nyli of House Fale.

  ---

  Come gather 'round you grebbers
  Who work for 'sid out there.
  A trick played on a man named Teb
  Did cause him to despair.
  
  He came to town the other week,
  His hard earned 'sid to trade.
  'Twas there he met a pretty girl
  Who did his heart betray.
  
  Her lips were red as roses,
  Her eyes a sapphire blue,
  Long hair as black as all the 'sid
  She stole from folks like you.
  
  She took him to a drinking inn
  And there they did imbibe
  In ale and burning whiskey,
  And dreadful stuff beside.
  
  It's then she asked him up to bed,
  To which he did agree,
  But truth to tell Teb fell asleep
  Before she earned her fee.
  
  When he awoke next morning
  No trousers could be found,
  But there were women's clothes so fine
  Scattered all around.
  
  His jacket, shoes and 'sid had gone
  And all that's left there is
  A woman's dress, a long-haired wig,
  And a shaving blade, not his.
  
  Why did she need the wig?
  Why did she need to shave?
  It's then the truth it struck him
  In a fit of blinding rage.
  
  His pretty girl's a man, he cried,
  Be thanks he fell asleep.
  He'd rather lose a bag of 'sid
  Than face that thievin' creep.
  
  To venture in the street again,
  He cautiously inclined.
  He had a shave, put on the wig,
  And wore the dress so fine.
  
  And as he walked along the road,
  A grebber gave a wink.
  He thought of all the 'sid he'd lost...
  
  ...
  
  So Teb offered him a drink.
  
  

  Come gather 'round you grebbers
  Who work for 'sid out there.
  A trick played on a man named Teb
  Did cause him to despair.
  
  He came to town the other week,
  His hard earned 'sid to trade.
  'Twas there he met a pretty girl
  Who did his heart betray.
  
  Her lips were red as roses,
  Her eyes a sapphire blue,
  Long hair...
  Continue Reading...
• 

  Quri of Tuluk by Greasygemo
  Added on Jun 16, 2012

  A current character, wearing her full suit of armor.

  
• 

  A Bard Hard at Work by Ourla
  Added on Apr 22, 2012

  
• 

  A Mess of Muarki by Path
  Added on Mar 27, 2012

  Trouble arises over a missing loved one.

  ---

  A Curtained Den [E]
  The dry aroma of fresh-cut wood still lingers in the air here, intertwining
  with wafts of light incense and musky perfume. The entire room is draped with
  heavy, colorful curtains and tapestries, each one overlying another in
  haphazard fashion. Plush woolen rugs lie cozily underfoot, while supple
  skins snuggle lazily around the loose cushions scattered about. The room
  is given to a sense of simple, casual comfort.
  A rounded, black cask sits here.
  An embossed plain clay cask sits here.
  A simple grill, made of tile and blackened bone, sits here.
  A padded, rectangular piece of cloth hangs here.
  A red and black izdari table sits here.
  A spindly legged table, made of bone and antlers, teeters here.
  A trunk sits here, made of bone and woven grass.
  A round, Lirathu-grey snakeskin cushion has been placed here.
  A plump leather cushion lies here.
  A panelled folding screen divides the room into two.
  The lanky, agafari-curled man is sitting on a well-padded, pillow covered couch.
  
  The angular, teal-eyed woman crouches down near a large wicker crate, tucking a braid behind her ear as she peers in.
  
  You get a slim-necked bottle from a large wicker crate.
  It is very light, and empty.
  
  The angular, teal-eyed woman rises up and reaches over toward a rounded, black cask.
  
  The lanky, agafari-curled man asks you, in bendune:
  "Thirsty?"
  
  The angular, teal-eyed woman takes a sip from her bottle as she plops down on the couch next to the lanky, agafari-curled man.
  
  You sit on a well-padded, pillow covered couch.
  
  This tastes like strongly spiced brandy.
  You do not feel thirsty.
  
  At your seat, you say in bendune, with a nod:
  "Yes."
  
  You drink the spice brandy.
  You do not feel thirsty.
  
  The lanky, agafari-curled man asks you, in bendune:
  "Stop that. What if your sister needs to mindspeak you?"
  
  You are carrying:
  a slim-necked bottle
  
  The lanky, agafari-curled man exclaims to you, in bendune:
  "Damnit, Zira, now isn't the time to sink into a bottle!"
  
  The angular, teal-eyed woman glances down at your slim-necked bottle, and slowly back up to the lanky, agafari-curled man incredulously.
  
  The lanky, agafari-curled man watches you with an expression of blatant frustration.
  
  At your seat, you say in bendune, narrowing her eyes at the lanky, agafari-curled man as she slowly, calmly sets the bottle on a nearby table:
  "Fine. But tell me - do I fucking -look- drunk? Am I slurring? I mean -fuck-, Petsha."
  
  At your seat, the lanky, agafari-curled man says in bendune:
  "You -looked- well on the way to it."
  
  The angular, teal-eyed woman rises deliberately to her feet, staring at the lanky, agafari-curled man as she stalks back out into the hallway.
  
  You stand up from a well-padded, pillow covered couch.
  
  You put a slim-necked bottle on a red and black izdari table.
  
  Long, Narrow Hallway [NEWD]
  While the faint aroma of incense drifts up from below, along with
  the dulled sounds of gambling and carousing, the dim simplicity of this
  part of the wagon remains stale and practical at best. The hallway is
  long and narrow, penetrated but by a large doorway on its west, and a
  large opening in its southeastern wall. The hall appears to parallel
  a large open cargo area on its east, whilst northward the hallway
  continues.
  The lithe, sable-haired man is here, looking about silently.
  
  The lithe, sable-haired man stops using a hooked bone key.
  The lithe, sable-haired man unlocks the oval with a hooked bone key.
  The lithe, sable-haired man opens the oval.
  Flicking over a grin as he moves aside, the lithe, sable-haired man says, in bendune:
  "Go on through, phral."
  Boarding Area [EU]
  At the top of the heavy, dark wood boarding plank this area begins to
  open up to the rest of the lower portion of the wagon. Along the western
  wall, a long, thick-planked bone and wood stairway ascends to the upper
  level, guarded by a heavy tortoiseshell doorway. Immediately beyond the
  unobtrusive stairs, the interior is swathed with swirling multi-colored
  drapings, various designs woven gaily upon them, some abstract and others of
  various caricatures of forest and desert scenes. Sounds of activity mixed
  with the faint scent of incense wafts in a just perceptible stream from the
  east. A single large column of some massive creature's legbone stands
  centrally to the northeast, supporting the upper level.
  An empty dark glass jug is here on the bottom stair.
  The tousled, vibrant-eyed woman is standing here.
  The taut, serpentine-braided man is standing here.
  The green-eyed, ponytailed woman stands here, guarding the entrance.
  The stout, sharp-featured man stands here, watching the boarding area.
  The husky, black-braided man crouches here, silent as he watches.
  The lithe, sun-bronzed man is here, watching the area.
  The lithe, sable-haired man closes the oval from the other side.
  
  The taut, serpentine-braided man walks directly to the stairs, an angry stare fixed straight ahead.
  
  The angular, teal-eyed woman clomps down the stairs with a scowl, stopping dead in her tracks as she spots the tousled, vibrant-eyed woman.
  
  The tousled, vibrant-eyed woman stands sullenly at the bottom of the stairs, her face flushed with rage.
  
  The angular, teal-eyed woman bounds down the rest of the stairs, tears filling her eyes as she throws her arms around the tousled, vibrant-eyed woman.
  
  You exclaim to the tousled, vibrant-eyed woman, in bendune:
  "Jia, you're safe!"
  
  Ascending the stairs, the taut, serpentine-braided man says to you, in bendune:
  "Up."
  
  The taut, serpentine-braided man says, in bendune:
  "Up."
  
  The green-eyed, ponytailed woman stops using a hooked bone key.
  The green-eyed, ponytailed woman unlocks the oval with a hooked bone key.
  The green-eyed, ponytailed woman nods at the stout, sharp-featured man.
  The green-eyed, ponytailed woman opens the oval.
  Flicking over a grin as she moves aside, the green-eyed, ponytailed woman says, in bendune:
  "Go on through, phral."
  The taut, serpentine-braided man nods at the stout, sharp-featured man.
  The taut, serpentine-braided man walks up.
  The tousled, vibrant-eyed woman nods at the stout, sharp-featured man.
  The tousled, vibrant-eyed woman walks up.
  The green-eyed, ponytailed woman closes the oval.
  The green-eyed, ponytailed woman locks the oval with a hooked bone key.
  The green-eyed, ponytailed woman tilts her head forward and fastens a hooked bone key about her throat.
  
  The green-eyed, ponytailed woman stops using a hooked bone key.
  The green-eyed, ponytailed woman unlocks the oval with a hooked bone key.
  The green-eyed, ponytailed woman nods at the stout, sharp-featured man.
  The green-eyed, ponytailed woman opens the oval.
  Flicking over a grin as she moves aside, the green-eyed, ponytailed woman says, in bendune:
  "Go on through, phral."
  The stout, sharp-featured man nods at you.
  
  Long, Narrow Hallway [NEWD]
  While the faint aroma of incense drifts up from below, along with
  the dulled sounds of gambling and carousing, the dim simplicity of this
  part of the wagon remains stale and practical at best. The hallway is
  long and narrow, penetrated but by a large doorway on its west, and a
  large opening in its southeastern wall. The hall appears to parallel
  a large open cargo area on its east, whilst northward the hallway
  continues.
  The tousled, vibrant-eyed woman is standing here.
  The taut, serpentine-braided man is standing here.
  The lithe, sable-haired man is here, looking about silently.
  The green-eyed, ponytailed woman closes the oval from the other side.
  
  The taut, serpentine-braided man stops leading the tousled, vibrant-eyed woman.
  
  The taut, serpentine-braided man walks west.
  
  A freshly stained thuja-wood door stands with plain, idle demeanor,
  guarding passage to a curtained den beyond.
  The door is open.
  [Near]
  The taut, serpentine-braided man is standing here.
  The lanky, agafari-curled man is sitting on a well-padded, pillow covered couch.
  
  Leaning in to you, the tousled, vibrant-eyed woman whispers to you in bendune:
  "Of course I'm safe, love."
  
  With a pained half-smile, the tousled, vibrant-eyed woman asks you, in bendune:
  "What did you think, they would eat me up?"
  
  Tucking her braids away before wiping her eyes, you say to the tousled, vibrant-eyed woman, in bendune:
  "I was so worried about you, Jia. "
  
  The tousled, vibrant-eyed woman shakes a fall of dusty, matted curls back from her face, glancing past the curtain into the den distractedly.
  
  The tousled, vibrant-eyed woman says to you, in bendune:
  "Well, you shouldn't have been. You chattered at me nearly the entire time, surely you know I was in fine health."
  
  Glancing into the den, you ask the tousled, vibrant-eyed woman, in bendune:
  "I guess.. Let's go sit down, yeah?"
  
  The tousled, vibrant-eyed woman says to you, in bendune:
  "I'd rather not share a room with that monster."
  
  A freshly stained thuja-wood door stands with plain, idle demeanor,
  guarding passage to a curtained den beyond.
  The door is open.
  [Near]
  The taut, serpentine-braided man stands waiting in the middle of the room.
  The lanky, agafari-curled man is sitting on a well-padded, pillow covered couch.
  
  Her face flushing again with anger, the tousled, vibrant-eyed woman exclaims to you, in bendune:
  "I cannot -believe- the disregard he can show!"
  
  You ask the tousled, vibrant-eyed woman, in bendune:
  "He's waiting for us. And I'd rather not keep him waiting. I'll be with you, yeah?"
  
  A freshly stained thuja-wood door stands with plain, idle demeanor,
  guarding passage to a curtained den beyond.
  The door is open.
  [Near]
  The taut, serpentine-braided man stands waiting in the middle of the room.
  The lanky, agafari-curled man is sitting on a well-padded, pillow covered couch.
  
  The tousled, vibrant-eyed woman says to you, in bendune:
  "All that time in the desert must have withered his heart as well, if he can feel so little concern for those he professes to care about. It's infuriating! Why doesn't anyone care to help Diji? Why will we let him.."
  
  Long, Narrow Hallway [NEWD]
  While the faint aroma of incense drifts up from below, along with
  the dulled sounds of gambling and carousing, the dim simplicity of this
  part of the wagon remains stale and practical at best. The hallway is
  long and narrow, penetrated but by a large doorway on its west, and a
  large opening in its southeastern wall. The hall appears to parallel
  a large open cargo area on its east, whilst northward the hallway
  continues.
  The tousled, vibrant-eyed woman is standing here.
  The lithe, sable-haired man is here, looking about silently.
  
  You hear a man's voice shout from the west in bendune:
  "Come in here."
  
  The tousled, vibrant-eyed woman says to you, in bendune:
  "Meet what fate he finds? He would have told us, certainly, if he had planned to be away long."
  
  Stomping her foot, the tousled, vibrant-eyed woman exclaims to you, in bendune:
  "You see?!"
  
  You say to the tousled, vibrant-eyed woman, in bendune:
  "We're not going to let him anything. We'll find him, Jia. We all care about him. Come."
  
  The tousled, vibrant-eyed woman falls in behind you.
  
  A Curtained Den [E]
  The dry aroma of fresh-cut wood still lingers in the air here, intertwining with wafts of light incense and musky perfume. The entire room is draped with heavy, colorful curtains and tapestries, each one overlying another in haphazard fashion. Plush woolen rugs lie cozily underfoot, while supple skins snuggle lazily around the loose cushions scattered about. The room is given to a sense of simple, casual comfort.
  A rounded, black cask sits here.
  An embossed plain clay cask sits here.
  A simple grill, made of tile and blackened bone, sits here.
  A padded, rectangular piece of cloth hangs here.
  A red and black izdari table sits here.
  A large couch, covered with pillows, is shoved against one wall.
  A spindly legged table, made of bone and antlers, teeters here.
  A trunk sits here, made of bone and woven grass.
  A round, Lirathu-grey snakeskin cushion has been placed here.
  A plump leather cushion lies here.
  A panelled folding screen divides the room into two.
  The taut, serpentine-braided man stands waiting in the middle of the room.
  The lanky, agafari-curled man is standing here.
  The tousled, vibrant-eyed woman has arrived from the east.
  
  The lanky, agafari-curled man ducks out after you and the tousled, vibrant-eyed woman enter.
  
  The lanky, agafari-curled man walks east.
  
  The taut, serpentine-braided man looks at the tousled, vibrant-eyed woman.
  
  The angular, teal-eyed woman leads the tousled, vibrant-eyed woman over to the couch, settling down as she glances over at the taut, serpentine-braided man.
  
  You sit on a well-padded, pillow covered couch.
  
  The tousled, vibrant-eyed woman turns to watch as the lanky, agafari-curled man slips from the room, frowning angrily.
  
  Standing in place with his arms crossed, the taut, serpentine-braided man asks the tousled, vibrant-eyed woman, in bendune:
  "Now, you have something to say about Cizdiji?"
  
  Turning back the tousled, vibrant-eyed woman crosses the room, curling into a padded cloth hammock and pulling her knees up against her chest.
  
  The tousled, vibrant-eyed woman sits on a padded cloth hammock.
  
  Coldly, the tousled, vibrant-eyed woman says to the taut, serpentine-braided man, in bendune:
  "I believe I've said most of it. It's you who refuse to speak on the matter."
  
  After a short pause, the taut, serpentine-braided man asks the tousled, vibrant-eyed woman, in bendune:
  "How many times have you been to Allanak, little pena?"
  
  Flushing bright red, her voice dropping, the tousled, vibrant-eyed woman says to the taut, serpentine-braided man, in bendune:
  "Once."
  
  The taut, serpentine-braided man asks the tousled, vibrant-eyed woman, in bendune:
  "Do I really need to say any more?"
  
  The angular, teal-eyed woman shrinks back into the couch, looking awkwardly, silently between the taut, serpentine-braided man and the tousled, vibrant-eyed woman.
  
  A freshly stained thuja-wood door stands with plain, idle character,
  guarding passage to a narrow hallway beyond.
  The door is open.
  [Far]
  Nothing.
  [Near]
  The lanky, agafari-curled man stands here, leaning against the wall.
  The lithe, sable-haired man is here, looking about silently.
  
  The angular, teal-eyed woman's eyes flit out into the hallway briefly.
  
  The tousled, vibrant-eyed woman purses her lips, raising her chin slightly as she regards the taut, serpentine-braided man coldly from her protected perch in the hammock.
  
  His voice raised a little, the taut, serpentine-braided man asks the tousled, vibrant-eyed woman, in bendune:
  "Do I?"
  
  A little louder, the taut, serpentine-braided man says to the tousled, vibrant-eyed woman, in bendune:
  "I can give you a handful of reasons why we shouldn't be doing just what you did, but I'd like to think you can figure them out for yourself."
  
  The tousled, vibrant-eyed woman says to the taut, serpentine-braided man, in bendune:
  "Well, clearly you have nothing more -to- say, so I guess I'll have to let your withered heart off the hook. Truly, what can you confess, that you have no concern at all for your loved ones? It is already blatantly clear."
  
  The tousled, vibrant-eyed woman says to the taut, serpentine-braided man, in bendune:
  "Obviously the labyrinth is no place for me, but at least I went. What is one gypsy alone? We cannot let Diji be that one. It is together that we have strength."
  
  The taut, serpentine-braided man's face twists and turns away, the lines across his face deepening painfully. He spits out a quick breath with his fists clenched.
  
  Her words travelling across the room to her in a hiss of a whisper, you say to the tousled, vibrant-eyed woman, in bendune:
  "Jia, I wouldn't.."
  
  Raising her voice with anger, the tousled, vibrant-eyed woman exclaims to the taut, serpentine-braided man, in bendune:
  "You let him stand alone!"
  
  The taut, serpentine-braided man steps the short distance between himself and the tousled, vibrant-eyed woman's hammock and grabs her hair to yank her to the ground, his face twisted in anger.
  
  The tousled, vibrant-eyed woman stands up from a padded cloth hammock.
  
  The angular, teal-eyed woman shrieks as her eyes flare toward the taut, serpentine-braided man, rising briskly from the couch.
  
  You stand up from a well-padded, pillow covered couch.
  
  The tousled, vibrant-eyed woman yelps as she falls, twisting from the hammock, her nails biting deeply into the taut, serpentine-braided man's face and neck as she desperately tries to catch herself.
  
  The tousled, vibrant-eyed woman sits down to rest.
  
  Into the tousled, vibrant-eyed woman's face, kneeling to hold her head to the floor, the taut, serpentine-braided man shouts, in bendune:
  "Who are you to question what I do in Allanak?!"
  
  The taut, serpentine-braided man shouts, in bendune:
  "I'm responsible for everyone here, you ignorant little shit- you, Diji, even the fucking caveman!"
  
  The tousled, vibrant-eyed woman lies back upon the floor, her eyes wide with fear and her breath coming in quick, short gasps.
  
  Putting his other hand to her throat but not pressing, the taut, serpentine-braided man says to the tousled, vibrant-eyed woman, in bendune:
  "I should break you into pieces for saying that, Jidana. I love that prala more than anyone alive, and I would level that slum if anything happened to him."
  
  The angular, teal-eyed woman stands motionless, watching on wild-eyes, her features taking on an expression of sheer horror.
  
  The tousled, vibrant-eyed woman closes her eyes, trying to turn her face away from the taut, serpentine-braided man, soft sobs beginning to wrack her slight form.
  
  The tousled, vibrant-eyed woman whispers something to the taut, serpentine-braided man.
  
  At the tousled, vibrant-eyed woman, giving her head a slight jerk so it hits the floor once, the taut, serpentine-braided man shouts, in bendune:
  "No. NO! Do you understand me now, girl? We're not risking anyone less capable than Cizdiji to bring him back. Especially you. Do you -understand-?"
  
  A soft whimper of pain escaping her as her head hits the floor a second time the tousled, vibrant-eyed woman attempts to nod weakly.
  
  The taut, serpentine-braided man suddenly releases the tousled, vibrant-eyed woman and moves away with a bark, punching once at the air.
  
  The tousled, vibrant-eyed woman pushes herself up weakly, laying her palms flat on the floor behind her and propping herself up, her gaze downcast and her body still trembling.
  
  The taut, serpentine-braided man moves over to a spindly legged bone and antler table and puts his palms on it to lean over, his head hanging.
  
  The angular, teal-eyed woman slowly moves to the tousled, vibrant-eyed woman's side, weaving a path around the taut, serpentine-braided man, and crouches down near her to reach out to her with a trembling hand.
  
  The tousled, vibrant-eyed woman pushes herself unsteadily to her feet, brushing you away gently.
  
  At length, the taut, serpentine-braided man says, in bendune:
  "All we can do is try to find out what happened through the locals. If anyone actually goes in, it's going to be me. I can't let one of you get hurt."
  
  Looking up at the tousled, vibrant-eyed woman, you whisper to the tousled, vibrant-eyed woman in bendune:
  "Please.. Come, Jia. Let's get you to the bunkroom, okay?"
  
  The tousled, vibrant-eyed woman falls in behind you.
  
  The tousled, vibrant-eyed woman presses her cheek into the crook of your shoulder with a long sigh.
  
  The angular, teal-eyed woman gently takes the tousled, vibrant-eyed woman's hand and escorts her through the doorway, glancing back briefly over her shoulder at the taut, serpentine-braided man.
  

  A Curtained Den [E]
  The dry aroma of fresh-cut wood still lingers in the air here, intertwining
  with wafts of light incense and musky perfume. The entire room is draped with
  heavy, colorful curtains and tapestries, each one overlying another in
  haphazard fashion. Plush woolen rugs lie cozily...
  Continue Reading...
• 

  A Stone-Caller by Briar
  Added on Mar 11, 2012

  Thrum. Thrum. The stone, silt and sand hums with life as the Rukkian drums her feet upon the ground. Rise, rise, she calls to the earth.

  
• 

  A Titan of Kurac by Briar
  Added on Mar 11, 2012

  
• 

  Bead, Elder of the Akei Ta Var by Ourla
  Added on Mar 6, 2012

  
• 

  Errigson by Briar
  Added on Mar 6, 2012

  
• 

  She-Elf by Briar
  Added on Mar 4, 2012

  A long-fingered dancer of the night.

  
• 

  Eclipsed Fist by Dig
  Added on Feb 1, 2012

  Just a character portrait.

  
• 

  Banished Patriot by Ourla
  Added on Feb 1, 2012

  
• 

  Lord Fale by Briar
  Added on Jan 21, 2012

  
• 

  Kilaski Salarr by Briar
  Added on Jan 21, 2012

  Without wonder and insight, acting is just a trade and without skill and cunning, trade is but acting.

  
• 

  Dream-Weaver by Briar
  Added on Jan 8, 2012

  Some gypsies offer exotic silks, some fortunes, some offer drinks and dances like no other, but only a rare few deal in dreams.

  
• 

  Drydek Kasix by Briar
  Added on Jan 8, 2012

  
• 

  The Protective Elder Brother by Is Friday
  Added on Nov 16, 2011

  Bukalasoo al'Seik has always gone well out of his way in order to protect his younger sister, Nettle. He tries on a daily basis to bring her up right--an ever important task with the diminishing population of their people and the influences the Arabeti have over the young Seik's development.

  ---

  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass idles a moment beside the drab, ochre-skinned woman's jewelry.
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man steps up beside the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass silently.
  
  You begin guarding the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass.
  
  Reaching down, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass absently fingers the carving upon a narrow bone bracelet.
  
  Lifting her gaze, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass casts the drab, ochre-skinned woman a fleeting smile.
  
  In her soft, lilting voice, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass asks the drab, ochre-skinned woman, in bendune:
       "Do you make them yourself?"
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man's pale eyes drift from the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass to the drab, ochre-skinned woman.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass flashes a brighter smile in response, straightening and turning toward the tavern entrance.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass enters a squat tavern.
  
  You enter a squat tavern.
  "The Anakore's Burrow" [E, D, Leave]
     The focal point of this low-ceilinged chamber is the small staircase
  that leads through a hole in the floor to a warm room below.  Dim torches
  are perched on the wall, composed of oddly-shaped chunks of slate and filled
  with burning plant matter.  A constant stream of smoke puffs up from the
  hole in the middle of the room, twisting its way out of the broad hole in
  the ceiling.  Concentric circles of primal artwork draw away from the
  blackened edges of the smokehole, covering much of the ceiling.  Crude
  outlines of Tablelands creatures, some barely distinguishable, are slathered
  about the ceiling in rough mineral sketches.  Vivid reds and blues mark the
  sketches on the ceiling, the various creatures seeming to dance around the
  smokehole.  
     The tavern's atmosphere is relaxed, with low tables haphazardly around
  the descending staircase.  Pillows are heaped in the eastern edge of the
  room, extending into a small sleeping area.  
  A multi-ringed dartboard hangs on the wall.
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass is standing here.
  - she is carrying a large bag.
  The wiry, soot-haired female soldier is standing here.
  The sinewy, black-haired soldier plays dice with some tribals here.
  The plump, jovial innkeeper is standing here.
  A svelte, yellow-eyed elven woman sits at a table, eyeing the room.
  A towering, leathery-skinned elf squats beside a table, chatting with a patron.
  An elderly, agafari-hued elf lounges at a table, spinning tales.
  A guard with broad shoulders stands sentry here.
  Eyes alight, a tawny, ash-braided woman hunches down at her table.
  The waspish, gnarled woman sits brooding at a corner table.
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man trails behind the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, glancing around her.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass sits at a circular table.
  
  Leaning over her, you whisper to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass in bendune:
       "Done?"
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass folds her feet at the ankles, tucking them beneath her chair as she settles her armful of cages across the tabletop.
  
  Starting, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass' thin body tenses.
  
  Casting a frightened glance up over her shoulder, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass looks up at you.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass exclaims to you, in bendune:
       "Buka! You didn't need to frighten me!"
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man cants your head down at the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass with a knit in your brow.
  
  Settling smugly back in her seat as the tension eases from her, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says to you, in bendune:
       "I'll get you for that."
  
  Averting your eyes, you say to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "Yes."
  
  Casting her dark-eyed gaze over the tavern, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says to you, in bendune:
       "I thought you'd be here already."
  
  Quietly, you say to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "No."
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man sniffs sharply, looking at the dusty patrons of a nearby table thoughtfully.
  
  At a circular table, you overhear the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass say in bendune:
       "People are idiots about these little animals our cousins sell."
  
  At a circular table, you overhear the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass say in bendune, pushing out the chair opposite her with the tip of one booted foot:
       "Sit?"
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass gets her pile of allanaki coins from her tightly-woven sash of dark sandcloth.
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man watches the chair move speculatively before casting your attention in every possible location by the space opposite of the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass at a circular table.
  
  Casting them across the top of the table, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass gives you 50 coins.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass asks you, in bendune:
       "Spiced mead?"
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man draws the coins into a pile with one hand.
  
  assess -v lass
  She is slightly younger than you.
  She appears young for her race.
  She is shorter than you.
  You are slightly heavier than her.
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass is in excellent condition.
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass does not look tired.
  
  Head dipping, you say, in bendune:
       "Spiced mead."
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man moves over to the plump, jovial innkeeper with a fistful of sid.
  
  You give the plump, jovial innkeeper 23 obsidian coins for an anakore-etched wooden shotglass.
  
  You give the plump, jovial innkeeper 23 obsidian coins for an anakore-etched wooden shotglass.
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man traverses back through the afternoon crowd toward the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass with a hand cupping a glass each.
  
  Placing it in front of the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, you put your anakore-etched wooden shotglass onto a circular table.
  
  With the other, you put your anakore-etched wooden shotglass onto a circular table.
  
  Spreading the small obsidian discs beside the shotglasses, you put your pile of coins onto a circular table.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass asks you, in bendune:
       "Won't you sit?"
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass lifts her dark gaze to your face.
  
  From tip to toe, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass looks at you.
  
  Settling down, you sit at a circular table.
  
  At your table, you say in bendune, folding your hands over a circular table:
       "Many sids made?"
  
  At your table, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says in bendune:
       "About half a large."
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man's milked eyes travel downward as you nods, lips pursing.
  
  At your table, you say in bendune:
       "Good."
  
  l nettle's cloak
  This billowing, ankle-length cloak has been skillfully tailored from a
  heavily-dyed section of the coarse cloth.  The cloak is formed of layers,
  the first cut to hang just below the waistline, the next to the top quarter
  of the thigh, and the last to the back of the ankles.  A heavy hood has been
  affixed to the cloak, allowing it to be drawn up over the head and secured
  to provide some protection from the elements.  An carved agate clasp, carved
  into the shape of a running raptor has been attached just below the neckline
  to assist in keeping the cloak closed from harsh wind, while providing a
  distinctive adornment.  The fabric is a dusty, sandy color, a mixture of
  browns and greys that would provide some natural camouflage in the sands,
  and has a chaotic pattern of dark-colored staining moving out across the
  back, over the shoulders and hood, and down the arms, to provide a
  distinctive flair.  
  
  At your table, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says in bendune:
       "How long have you been here?"
  
  At your table, you say in bendune:
       "Today."
  
  At your table, you say in bendune, lifting a finger to point at the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass:
       "To protect."
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass sighs, settling back in her seat.
  
  At your table, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says in bendune:
       "Good. I want to go home."
  
  At your table, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says in bendune:
       "I'm supposed to find some wooden things to take south though, before we go."
  
  At your table, you say in bendune:
       "What sort?"
  
  At your table, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says in bendune:
       "Maybe some islit? I don't know exactly...I found one shop with a cradle for sale..I thought someone might want that, in the south, a fancy wooden cradle for their babe."
  
  At your table, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says in bendune:
       "Maybe some isilt jewelry..."
  
  Speculatively, you look at the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass.
  This nut-brown youth stands no taller than many adolescents, although the
  maturity of her curves indicate she's well done growing.  The rich darkness
  of her arching brows casts a fierce femininity across her features, lending
  her the animalistic quality of a small, wild creature and emphasizing the
  dark clarity of her limpid gaze.  The quirk of her dusky lips and her fine
  chin and jawline lead the eye to where her ears have been pierced and
  stretched for the insertion of two coin-sized bone disks.  Her hair, dark as
  polished thornwood, is all kinky coils and wind-tossed knots, tumbling the
  hourglass slope of her back to taper along the curve of her bottom.  
       Caught in a turbulent wealth of coiling braids, her riotous mane has
  been bound up and secured by a strand of beaded silk, laying free the naked
  slope of her neck.
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass is in excellent condition.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass is using:
  <worn on head>           a thin, beaded silk headband
  <slung across back>      a darkly-stained styrax spear
  <worn across back>       a raptor-leather, darkly-stained satchel
  <worn on torso>          a darkly-stained, reinforced raptor hide jacket
  <worn on left shoulder>  a small, desert-camouflaged lizard
  <worn around wrist>      a bone and leather braided license
  <worn as belt>           a tightly-woven sash of dark sandcloth
  <hung from belt>         a darkly stained bone scimitar with a carved hilt
  <hung from belt>         a darkly-stained raptor bone knife
  <worn around body>       a layered black cloak with an agate clasp
  <worn on legs>           a pair of darkly-stained raptor hide leggings
  <worn on feet>           a pair of darkly-stained, knee-high raptor-hide boots
  
  She is carrying:
  nothing obvious
  
  At your table, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says in bendune:
       "Cutlery is the same in wood or clay or stone, I think..if the material is special, it should be a special object."
  
  At your table, you say in bendune, shrugging your shoulders:
       "Don't know those things."
  
  At your table, you say in bendune, pensively:
       "Speak with 'beti, after arrive. Odd times."
  
  At your table, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says in bendune:
       "Well, I can purchase them in the morning and we can leave..maybe..before noon."
  
  At your table, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says in bendune:
       "You mean sharing tents with our cousins?"
  
  At your table, you say in bendune, milked eyes drifting up thoughtfully:
       "Very happy people. Not like Seik now."
  
  At your table, you say in bendune, nodding decisively:
       "Yes. Sharing tents."
  
  At your table, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says in bendune:
       "No, but we'll rebuild. You were lost too long after the darkness. Things are more settled now."
  
  At your table, you say in bendune, wincing:
       "Hard to adjust."
  
  At your table, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says in bendune:
       "Our folk won't be with theirs forever. Their ways are too different."
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man rests a hand against the side of your head as you stares at a circular table.
  
  At your table, you say in bendune:
       "Tch."
  
  At your table, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says in bendune, cocking a coy smile:
       "I find I like the dancing at night..by firelight."
  
  At your table, you say in bendune:
       "Do not be fooled to take 'beti, sepa. Blood not strong."
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man's expression shifts dramatically to become resolute and expecting of the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass.
  
  At your table, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says in bendune, with a snort:
       "That's not always so. They have good hunters..."
  
  At your table, you say in bendune, firmly:
       "Blood is weak."
  
  At your table, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says in bendune, with a toss of her braid-heavy head:
       "Not always."
  
  Coolly, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass looks at you.
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man's gaze shifts away from the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass after a moment.
  
  At your table, you say in bendune, plainly:
       "'beti child would not survive."
  
  At your table, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says in bendune:
       "Their little ones do."
  
  At your table, you say in bendune:
       "Not in Seik tents, 'beti would not."
  
  At your table, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says in bendune, slapping the table dismissively:
       "This is stupid. I don't want anyone in my furs."
  
  At your table, you say in bendune, nodding gently:
       "Blood is too weak. Good."
  
  Smiling warmly, you look at the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass.
  
  At your table, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says in bendune:
       "Now, give me my drink."
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man points to where it rests in front of the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass.
  
  At your table, you say in bendune:
       "Drink."
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass gets her anakore-etched wooden shotglass from a circular table.
  
  Watching you over the rim as she downs it, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass drinks spiced-mead from her anakore-etched wooden shotglass.
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man crosses your arms, leaning back and observing a passing group of nomads.
  
  At your table, you say in bendune:
       "Meet Runners in Kurac Post."
  
  At your table, you say in bendune:
       "Drunk and spiced. Very loud necks."
  
  The empty vessle sounding softly as it meets the table, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass puts her anakore-etched wooden shotglass onto a circular table.
  
  At your table, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says in bendune, her dusky lips quirking with a smile:
       "Tell me the whole tale, not just one part."
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man clears your throat behind a fist as you casually lifts a leg to rest that ankle on the opposite knee.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass settles back more comfortably in her own chair, her gaze dark as she watches what expression there is pass across your face.
  
  At your table, you say in bendune, upturning a palm toward the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass:
       "First call 'Sexy Seik'. Not name I know. But hoot more, call over... so then ask more."
  
  At your table, you say in bendune:
       "Too drunk and spiced to do much. Tried asking trade--got no place."
  
  At your table, you say in bendune, appearing annoyed as your features clinch up:
       "One, with warclubs and many scars--begins fight. Mishear what was said. Other Runner think it funny to make warclub Runner think things that did not happen."
  
  At your table, you say in bendune, shaking your head in disapproval:
       "Got away before fight. Not smart. Save Runner life."
  
  At your table, you say in bendune, milked gaze rolling back to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass:
       "Kurac not take well to see Runner threaten Seik, think."
  
  At your table, you say in bendune, patting your darkly-stained, reinforced raptor hide jacket with a fist lightly to indicate himself:
       "Safe."
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass nods.
  
  At your table, you say in bendune, pinching your index and thumb together as though holding a pipe or tube of spice:
       "Offer Thodeliv. Give thodeliv later. Make amends for Runner mistake. Runner Bright Eyes like Shriek al'Seik."
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man's lips part in a pleased smile.
  
  At your table, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says in bendune:
       "Shriek? Really?"
  
  At your table, you say in bendune, after a pregnant pause:
       "Yes. Problem?"
  
  At your table, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says in bendune, snorting softly, her little nostrils flaring:
       "Well, it does sound a bit silly."
  
  Eyes dancing with mischief, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass looks at you.
  
  At your table, you say in bendune:
       "Maybe someday find out why."
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man scratches at the underside of your jaw with a fingernail.
  
  l nettle's headband
  A simple string of thin silk has been threaded with wooden and glass
  beads of maroon, deep blue, brown, and dark orange.  Made to be worn around
  the wearer's head, it provides a simple, but elegant enough, accent to the
  forehead and face.  
  
  Plucking a few crumbs off the table before her, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass feeds them idly to the smooth-bodied reptile sprawled across her shoulder.
  
  At your table, you say in bendune, resting a hand onto a circular table:
       "Begin early?"
  
  At your table, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says in bendune:
       "You didn't even try your drink...don't you like their mead?"
  
  At your table, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says in bendune:
       "The shops won't be open before dawn."
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man's milked eyes fall onto the shotglass remaining in front of you.
  
  Shrugging, you get your anakore-etched wooden shotglass from a circular table.
  It is very light, and full.
  
  With reckless abandon, you drink the spiced-mead.
  You feel a slight buzz from the alcohol.
  You are a little hungry.
  You are a little thirsty.
  
  Placing it back onto a circular table, you discard your anakore-etched wooden shotglass.
  
  At your table, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says in bendune:
       "You seem especially reserved, Buka."
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man folds both hands over a circular table, regarding the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass placidly in response.
  
  At your table, you say in bendune:
       "Yes."
  
  At your table, you say in bendune, distantly:
       "The new way found."
  
  At your table, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says in bendune, her tone rife with mischief:
       "You know, there is this one Arabeti boy, the one with the black braid and vestric feathers..? He's quite a dancer."
  
  At your table, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says in bendune, leaning into the table, her gaze bright upon you:
       "Do you know his name?"
  
  At your table, you say in bendune, shrugging:
       "No."
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass smiles.
  
  At your table, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says in bendune:
       "He might make a good mate..rhythm like that shouldn't go to waste."
  
  At your table, you say in bendune, commenting:
       "Weak blood."
  
  At your table, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says in bendune, her smile breaking into a grin:
       "Hot blood."
  
  Despairingly, you look at the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass.
  At your table, you say in bendune, hands tightening as they rest folded over a circular table:
       "Poor choice."
  
  At your table, you say in bendune, rising:
       "Come."
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says, out of character:
       "i've got to step out for 15, i'm sorry"
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass stands up from a circular table.
  
  Securing the knot of your tightly-woven sash of dark sandcloth, you stand up from a circular table.
  
  <Nettle's player goes to log. Sometime later...>
  
  You contact the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass with the Way.
  
  You send a telepathic message to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass:
       "Finish business. I'm waiting for you at the Scaien Gates, along the North Road."
  
  l me
  This human would be regarded as moderate in stature, compact, and
  cultured in life-or-death struggles: his body seems well brought-
  upon both fighting and hunger. Long muddy-red and Drov hair hangs
  down to his butt, adorned with small bone-carved skull charms and
  trinkets that twist along the mane in a twine-secured clump. Dark
  of complexion and light of eye, milk white irises appear lifeless
  when beside tight earthen-dusk skin.
  The earthen, trinket-twined man is in excellent condition.
  
  <face>                   numerous interlocked dark and light blue lines, inked at odd angles
  <slung across back>      a darkly-stained styrax spear
  <worn across back>       a raptor-leather, darkly-stained satchel
  <worn on torso>          a darkly-stained, reinforced raptor hide jacket
  <worn as belt>           a tightly-woven sash of dark sandcloth
  <hung from belt>         a darkly stained bone scimitar with a carved hilt
  <worn around body>       a layered black cloak with an agate clasp
  <worn on legs>           a pair of darkly-stained raptor hide leggings
  <worn on feet>           a pair of darkly-stained, knee-high raptor-hide boots
  
  You dissolve the psychic link.
  
  <some time passes>
  
  You contact the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass with the Way.
  
  You send a telepathic message to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass:
       "If you don't make it to the Gates soon, we'll not have enough light."
  
  A foreign presence contacts your mind.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass sends you a telepathic message:
       "Bartering can't be rushed."
  
  You send a telepathic message to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass:
       "Yes it can."
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass sends you a telepathic message:
       "Fine..I'm coming."
  
  You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
  
  You dissolve the psychic link.
  
  <some time passes>
  
  A foreign presence contacts your mind.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass sends you a telepathic message:
       "I need you."
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass sends you a telepathic message:
       "I found these branches. I can't lift them."
  
  You contact the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass with the Way.
  
  You send a telepathic message to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass:
       "Where?"
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass sends you a telepathic message:
       "In the herb sellers, in Freil's."
  
  You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
  
  <ride over to Friel's>
  
  Looking inside a small sandstone building, you see:
  Inside a Neatly Kept, Sandstone Building [Leave]
     This small shop is neatly, immaculately kept.  A wooden rack hangs
  beside the door, filled with assortments of tools, while beside it a set of
  shelves holds lengths of cloth and small baskets of dyes and herbs.  A
  counter lines the back of the room, the more valuable items hanging behind
  it.  The inner walls of this building are adorned with carvings of rippling
  lines, incised into the yellowish white sandstone of its composition.  
  A couple of long agafari branches are here.
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass is standing here, looking tired.
  - she is carrying a sturdy, dark-wood cradle.
  - she is carrying a large bag.
  A weathered, dark-eyed man is here warily keeping watch.
  A lanky, weatherworn man stands near the counter, carving a bit of bone.
  
  You swing your legs to the side and dismount.
  
  You pull on a brown inix's reins.
  A brown inix curls up on the ground.
  
  Moving over quickly, you look down at the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass.
  This nut-brown youth stands no taller than many adolescents, although the
  maturity of her curves indicate she's well done growing.  The rich darkness
  of her arching brows casts a fierce femininity across her features, lending
  her the animalistic quality of a small, wild creature and emphasizing the
  dark clarity of her limpid gaze.  The quirk of her dusky lips and her fine
  chin and jawline lead the eye to where her ears have been pierced and
  stretched for the insertion of two coin-sized bone disks.  Her hair, dark as
  polished thornwood, is all kinky coils and wind-tossed knots, tumbling the
  hourglass slope of her back to taper along the curve of her bottom.  
       Caught in a turbulent wealth of coiling braids, her riotous mane has
  been bound up and secured by a strand of beaded silk, laying free the naked
  slope of her neck.
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass is in excellent condition.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass is using:
  <worn on head>           a thin, beaded silk headband
  <slung across back>      a darkly-stained styrax spear
  <worn across back>       a raptor-leather, darkly-stained satchel
  <worn on torso>          a darkly-stained, reinforced raptor hide jacket
  <worn on left shoulder>  a small, desert-camouflaged lizard
  <worn around wrist>      a bone and leather braided license
  <worn as belt>           a tightly-woven sash of dark sandcloth
  <hung from belt>         a darkly stained bone scimitar with a carved hilt
  <hung from belt>         a darkly-stained raptor bone knife
  <worn around body>       a layered black cloak with an agate clasp
  <worn on legs>           a pair of darkly-stained raptor hide leggings
  <worn on feet>           a pair of darkly-stained, knee-high raptor-hide boots
  
  Scooping it up, you pick up a long agafari branch.
  It is very light.
  
  Her face oddly pallid, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass smiles as you enters.
  
  Wordlessly, you pick up a long agafari branch.
  It is very light.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass falls in behind you.
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man holds out a hand, reaching for the cradle.
  
  Passing it over wordlessly, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass gives you her sturdy, dark-wood cradle.
  Grasping at the cradle, you say to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in sirihish:
       "Better this way."
  
  l cradle
  This cradle is cut from baobab wood and stands about three cords high. Its
  sides can be raised and lowered for easy access. A matting of silk stuffed
  with vestric feathers provides a comfortable rest for any child. The cradle
  is well crafted and very sturdy.
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man lifts your sturdy, dark-wood cradle, resting it on a shoulder.
  
  You step out to...
  
  Moire's Vision [E, W]
     It is difficult to see the path underfoot from the sheer amount of
  debris from a number of thatched huts that have been destroyed in this
  Quarter.  Plantlife in the area has experienced a boon of growth, leaves and
  roots spreading in every direction.  The few structures still standing show
  a healthy amount of dirt and mud sloshed a cord high around the foundations.
  A perpetual stench of decaying wood drifts on the air.  
  A simple cylini hut sits along the path.
  A small sandstone building sits off to one side of the path.
  A brown inix is reclining here.
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass emerges from a small sandstone building.
  
  Glancing over, you ask the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in sirihish:
       "Look pale. Why?"
  
  Tucking herself up close, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass beams a smile up at you.
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man gestures to a brown inix.
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man picks up the reins of a brown inix, passing them to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass.
  
  Gently, you say to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in sirihish:
       "Ride."
  
  You strap your sturdy, dark-wood cradle to a brown inix's back.
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man finishes securing the cradle to a brown inix after a few moments.
  
  Uncertainly, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says to you, in bendune:
       "Oh..."
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man pulls your curved agafari shield from a brown inix, strapping it about your left wrist.
  
  Scrambling awkwardly up, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass jumps up onto a brown inix's back.
  A brown inix rises from the ground, and clambers to his feet.
  
  Brow quirking to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, you hold your curved agafari shield.
  
  You ask the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "Come. Where is inix?"
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says to you, in bendune:
       "My mind is not so sharp..with the way. Between our tents, it's not such trouble but...I think I might get an ox."
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass asks you, in bendune:
       "If I get an ox, would we have to stay another night?"
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says to you, in bendune:
       "Because, you know, I've never seen the Circle of Poets."
  
  Shaking your head, you say to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "No. Stable on way."
  
  Sliding down from the side, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass swings her legs over and jumps off of a brown inix.
  A brown inix curls up on the ground.
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man tugs along the reins of a brown inix, moving quickly.
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man pauses, turning around.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says to you, in bendune:
       "Are you sure? It's awfully late to travel.."
  
  Squinting, you look down at the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass.
  This nut-brown youth stands no taller than many adolescents, although the
  maturity of her curves indicate she's well done growing.  The rich darkness
  of her arching brows casts a fierce femininity across her features, lending
  her the animalistic quality of a small, wild creature and emphasizing the
  dark clarity of her limpid gaze.  The quirk of her dusky lips and her fine
  chin and jawline lead the eye to where her ears have been pierced and
  stretched for the insertion of two coin-sized bone disks.  Her hair, dark as
  polished thornwood, is all kinky coils and wind-tossed knots, tumbling the
  hourglass slope of her back to taper along the curve of her bottom.  
       Caught in a turbulent wealth of coiling braids, her riotous mane has
  been bound up and secured by a strand of beaded silk, laying free the naked
  slope of her neck.
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass is in excellent condition.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass is using:
  <worn on head>           a thin, beaded silk headband
  <slung across back>      a darkly-stained styrax spear
  <worn across back>       a raptor-leather, darkly-stained satchel
  <worn on torso>          a darkly-stained, reinforced raptor hide jacket
  <worn on left shoulder>  a small, desert-camouflaged lizard
  <worn around wrist>      a bone and leather braided license
  <worn as belt>           a tightly-woven sash of dark sandcloth
  <hung from belt>         a darkly stained bone scimitar with a carved hilt
  <hung from belt>         a darkly-stained raptor bone knife
  <worn around body>       a layered black cloak with an agate clasp
  <worn on legs>           a pair of darkly-stained raptor hide leggings
  <worn on feet>           a pair of darkly-stained, knee-high raptor-hide boots
  
  She is carrying:
  nothing obvious
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says to you, in bendune:
       "And I really want a fine uhmm.alright."
  
  Resolutely, you say to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "Sure."
  
  You ask the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "Want what?"
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says to you, in bendune:
       "Well, a nice fresh-tamed ox, with the wild still in her, you know. Not one of their dossil overbred beasts."
  
  Quietly, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says to you, in bendune:
       "Docile."
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man emits a quiet sigh, turning to peer easterly.
  
  Turning back to her, you say to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "Fine."
  
  Wriggling slightly with excitement, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass peers up at you bright-eyed.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass asks you, in bendune:
       "Ohhh...will you help me pick one?"
  
  Nodding, you say to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "Yes."
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass dances a few light-footed steps of excitement.
  
  Watching her feet, you look down at the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass hooks one slight arm through your arm, tugging at you.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass exclaims to you, in bendune:
       "Come on, come on then...let's get the best one before they sell her!"
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man remains in place, staring down at the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass for a while despite all the excitement.
  
  A brown inix isn't yours to make stand.
  
  You begin leading a brown inix.
  A brown inix falls in behind you.
  Puffing with frustration, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass stills, stepping back and peering up at you.
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man loops the reins of a brown inix about your free hand, tugging it along as you is tugged along.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass asks you, in bendune:
       "What?"
  
  You stop leading the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass.
  
  You now follow the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass walks east.
  You follow the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, and walk east.
  
  You release a brown inix's reins.
  
  You say to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "Go on."
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass walks east.
  You follow the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, and walk east.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass walks west.
  You follow the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, and walk west.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass walks south.
  You follow the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, and walk south.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says to you, in bendune:
       "Oops..your lizard."
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass walks north.
  You follow the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, and walk north.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass walks west.
  You follow the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, and walk west.
  
  You begin leading a brown inix.
  A brown inix falls in behind you.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass scowls at a brown inix.
  
  A brown inix rises from the ground, and clambers to his feet.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass walks east.
  You follow the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, and walk east.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass asks you, in bendune:
       "See how they are?"
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass walks south.
  You follow the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, and walk south.
  
  Zaerach's Way [N, E, S]
     It is difficult to see the path underfoot from the sheer amount of
  debris from a number of thatched huts that have been destroyed in this
  Quarter.  Plantlife in the area has experienced a boon of growth, leaves and
  roots spreading in every direction.  The few structures still standing show
  a healthy amount of dirt and mud sloshed a cord high around the foundations.
  A perpetual stench of decaying wood drifts on the air.  
     A small wooden hut is situated along the eastern side of the path, a
  corner of its foundation sunken into the ground.  What was once a waist-high
  agafari fence behind it has been reduced to a broken display of protection,
  several agafari boards missing.  
  A group of Kadian slaves are here moving debris and clutter from around the street and the small hut.
  A small thatched hut sits amidst a group of buildings in this quarter.
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass is standing here, looking tired.
  - she is carrying a large bag.
  A brown inix has arrived from the north.
  
  Placing it atop a brown inix, you stop holding your curved agafari shield.
  
  Agreeably, you say to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "Yes."
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says to you, in bendune:
       "You ought to have one that can think for itself as well."
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass walks south.
  You follow the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, and walk south.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass walks east.
  You follow the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, and walk east.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass walks east.
  You follow the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, and walk east.
  
  A Grassy Field [W]
     A small field covered in light, black-colored gesra grass, this area
  provides suitable support for animals to roam freely.  A few animals, such
  as inix and sunlons, graze about the field, as it sprawls out over the
  countryside.  
     Large buildings sprout up to the north, east and south of here.  A
  large wooden structure lies to the west, the scent of animals wafting in.  
  A beast pen has been constructed here near the structure to the west.
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass is standing here, looking tired.
  - she is carrying a large bag.
  The lanky, gap-toothed man stands near the pens, looking over the mounts.
  The leathery-skinned man walks around here, attending to the mounts.
  A squat mul stands guard in front of the pen.
  A brown inix has arrived from the west.
  
  You say, in bendune:
       "Only one thinker allowed."
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says to you, in bendune:
       "Well..."
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man thumps a fist against your darkly-stained, reinforced raptor hide jacket, indicating himself.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass asks you, in bendune:
       "Right but...I mean, they should know what you want, right?"
  
  Pensively, you say to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "Yes."
  
  Lifting her body half across a heavy wooden fencework and pointing, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass asks, in bendune:
       "That's what I want! That one there, see?"
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man's lips purse as you glances to a brown inix for a moment, making a cursory inspection.
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man eventually turns to see what all the hubbub is about.
  
  Turning her face, wide-eyed, toward you, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass asks you, in bendune:
       "Have a look at her there, will you?"
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass asks you, in bendune:
       "Isn't she fine and wooly?"
  
  Blandly, you say to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "Yes."
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass asks you, in bendune:
       "Well, shouldn't you look her hooves over and things?"
  
  Giving the reins another wrap before tugging him down, you pull on a brown inix's reins.
  A brown inix curls up on the ground.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass shoots the leathery-skinned man an apologetic glance.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass asks the leathery-skinned man, in sirihish:
       "My lrother hare is thi expert in anihal feesh. I vee you wave some oxen. I don't suppose you'b mind if we look them over?"
  
  Smiling, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass looks up at the leathery-skinned man.
  
  l leathery
  You look up at the leathery-skinned man.
  You see before you a tall thin man, nearing the late middle-aged years.
  His skin is a deep rich tan, turned leathery from all of the harsh elements
  on Zalanthas.  His face and hands are beginning to wrinkle with age, yet his
  pale blue eyes seem to burn on with some inner desire.  His face is marked
  with some very faint scars, one short one under his right eye, running down
  and to the right of the eye.
  The leathery-skinned man is in excellent condition.
  
  The leathery-skinned man is using:
  <neck>                   a blue and purple inked band
  <worn on torso>          a blue and white striped linen shirt
  <left wrist>             a purple and blue circle
  <hands>                  a six-pronged star
  <worn on legs>           a pair of blue and white linen pants
  <worn on feet>           a pair of soft blue suede boots
  
  He is carrying:
  nothing obvious
  
  Grasping a handful of grass seed from the mound of dried feed to one side, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass steals the opportunity to spread the find liberally among the cages in her keeping.
  
  You enter a beast pen.
  Inside the Beast Pen [Leave, Save]
     You are standing inside a large fenced-in area.  A tarp covers the
  area keeping out the harsh elements.  There are several large stalls, with
  several people monitoring the various mounts.  In the north eastern corner
  is a large pile of hay bales and various tools used for tending to the large
  beasts of burden and sport beasts.  
  
  leave (some time later)
  You step out to...
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass asks you, in bendune:
       "What do you think of her?"
  
  Nodding, you say to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "Fine."
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass gets her pile of allanaki coins from her raptor-leather, darkly-stained satchel.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass pays the leathery-skinned man for a wooly brown plains-ox, and hops on its back.
  
  Drably, you look up at a wooly brown plains-ox.
  This massive creature's entire head is covered in fluffy wool, making its
  features hard to discern.  Impossible to ignore, however, are the wickedly
  sharp horns that jut from its skull, curling in deadly arcs.  Its body is
  likewise covered in shaggy, wooly brown fur, its texture soft and kinky.  
  A wooly brown plains-ox is in excellent condition.
  
  A wooly brown plains-ox is using:
  <head>                   A black-inked wylrith branding
  
  It is carrying:
  nothing obvious
  
  Afterward, you look up at a brown inix.
  This huge, two-ton lizard is a variegated brown in color, its shell
  striped with gleams of amber and gold.  In size, it is nearly thirteen cords
  from snout to tail.  It eyes the ground, searching for forage with dull
  green eyes.  
  A brown inix is in excellent condition.
  A brown inix is hitched to you.
  
  He is carrying:
  nothing obvious
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass swings her legs to the side and dismounts.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass begins leading a wooly brown plains-ox.
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man pats a brown inix reassuringly.
  
  Leaning in close, you whisper to a brown inix in bendune:
       "Better."
  
  You pull on a brown inix's reins.
  A brown inix rises from the ground, and clambers to his feet.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass scratches a wooly brown plains-ox behind the ears, listening carefully against it.
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man tugs along a brown inix, looking expectantly for the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass to follow.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass pats a wooly brown plains-ox reassuringly.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass falls in behind you.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says to you, in bendune:
       "What do you think I should name her? I like Petal."
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass asks you, in bendune:
       "Do you think it fits?"
  
  You say to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "No."
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says to you, in bendune:
       "How about Stomp..? Maybe I should get to know her a bit, first."
  
  You unstrap your sturdy, dark-wood cradle from a brown inix's back.
  
  As you rests your sturdy, dark-wood cradle onto a shoulder, you say to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "Yes. Know ox first."
  
  You store a brown inix in the stables.
  A purple-haired half-breed stablehand says, in northern-accented sirihish:
       "Here is your ticket. It'll be 20 coins to retrieve it when you return."
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass looks up at a wooly brown plains-ox.
  
  You put your blue and purple-braided leather ticket into your tightly-woven sash of dark sandcloth.
  
  You ask the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "Leave in morning?"
  
  Wrapping her thin dark arms around a wooly brown plains-ox neck, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass hugs it fiercly.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass stores a wooly brown plains-ox in the stables.
  A purple-haired half-breed stablehand says, in northern-accented sirihish:
       "Here is your ticket. It'll be 20 coins to retrieve it when you return."
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass puts her blue and purple-braided leather ticket into her tightly-woven sash of dark sandcloth.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass asks you, in bendune:
       "Well...can we see the Circle of Poets?"
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass asks you, in bendune:
       "Circle of Singers?"
  
  With a shake of her head, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says to you, in bendune:
       "It loses something in the translation."
  
  Tiredly, you look down at the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass.
  
  Plucking it forcibly from its cozy slump across the curve of her shoulder, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass stops using her small, desert-camouflaged lizard.
  
  Shifting its warm body into her cupped palms, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass holds her small, desert-camouflaged lizard.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass shifts her weight between her feet, studying her small, desert-camouflaged lizard.
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man observes the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass blankly for a while before smiling.
  
  You say to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "Come."
  
  <walking walking walking>
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass asks you, in bendune:
       "Do you know what I like about you?"
  
  You say, in bendune:
       "No."
  
  Shifting her smooth-bodied reptile into one hand and tucking the other around your arm, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says to you, in bendune:
       "Everything."
  
  Observing the juggling as you passes, you look up at the willowy, raven-haired woman.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass looks up at the willowy, raven-haired woman.
  
  After hearing that, you look down at the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass.
  
  You begin guarding the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass.
  
  Gesturing, you say to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "Closer."
  
  weather
  It is a warm day.
  A warm breeze blows from the east.
  Jihae, the red moon, is high in the sky.
  
  With a quirking smile, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says to you, in bendune:
       "Well, they'll have to do better than that. I've seen fire jugglers before, in the Black, you know."
  
  You say to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "Amateur."
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass smiles at you.
  
  A dung beetle races down the roadside, moving its ball along before it.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass snorks in excited surprise.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass asks you, in bendune:
       "Did you see that? That beetle?"
  
  You say to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "No."
  
  Glancing back over her slim shoulder, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass exclaims to you, in bendune:
       "It had a ball..!"
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man pauses long enough to nod to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass.
  
  You ask the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "What kind?"
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass asks you, in bendune:
       "Oh, a dung beetle! Do you know that Arabet Dona?"
  
  Nodding, you say to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "Yes."
  
  Shyly, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass asks you, in bendune:
       "I think she wants to bed me. Do you think she wants to bed everyone?"
  
  Shaking your head, you say to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "No."
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man taps your fist against your darkly-stained, reinforced raptor hide jacket with a smug smile.
  
  You say, in bendune:
       "Not Shriek."
  
  Just before the plaza, you ask the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "Weak blood. Remember?"
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says to you, in bendune:
       "Well, I'm not sure how do do it like that, you know...with a sword and no sheath..though I'm sure we could figure it out...."
  
  You say to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "'beti bed most. Seik bed one."
  
  Glancing up, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass asks you, in bendune:
       "Just one?"
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man stares at the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass for a long moment.
  
  You say to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "Most, only one. Sometimes two. Mates gift fetish."
  
  Her dark features composing themselves with thought, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass stares down at her feet.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass whispers to you, in bendune:
       "What kind?"
  
  You whisper to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass in bendune:
       "Fetish creature."
  
  Very quietly, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says, in bendune:
       "Oh."
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man motions for the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass to draw closer with a wave of your hand.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass shifts her slight weight and warmth nearer to you, lifting her face.
  
  Hand resting on your darkly-stained, reinforced raptor hide jacket, you say to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "Source of strength when weak. Feeling of courage when afraid."
  
  Peering down at her, you say to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "Fetish not shared with 'beti. Seik people have great power. Do not waste."
  
  Tipping her head to one side, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass asks you, in bendune:
       "Raptor?"
  
  You say to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "Maybe. Someday, sepa."
  
  You say to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "When Seik mate is had."
  
  Popping out her bottom lip stubbornly, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass exclaims to you, in bendune:
       "Well, there aren't very many!"
  
  The night has begun.
  The earthen, trinket-twined man tenses up.
  
  The Road of Poets [N, E, W]
     Blue-tinged stones, each speckled with a variety of multi-hued flecks,
  have been cut into even and symmetrical squares before being cobbled into
  the path that forms this road.  Numerous buildings can be seen dotting the
  landscape on either side of the road, workers and various artisans scurrying
  to and fro between the structures.  To the south lies the old city wall, its
  scars a reminder of the city's history.  
     An archway in the northern wall leads into a sandstone plaza on which
  numerous tents, all ranging in hue and texture, have been erected.  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass is standing here, looking tired.
  - she is carrying a large bag.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass shifts away, turning both dark hands around her small, desert-camouflaged lizard and crooning to it.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says to you, in bendune:
       "We can't stand here all night."
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass looks up at you.
  
  With a fierce strength, you whisper to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass in bendune:
       "Yes. But... do not act so unready for trial."
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says to you, in bendune:
       "I don't want to do my trial. Do you know Dona said she'd watch over me? But I said you were going to."
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man reaches out a hand to place onto her shoulder.
  
  Glancing up from the warmth of the little reptile, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass looks up at you.
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man wraps your other hand about the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, pulling her in roughly to embrace you should there be no resistance.
  
  Lifting her thin arms around your neck, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass hugs you fiercely.
  
  Hand gripping the back of her head, you say to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "Always watch. Trial will be done. Seik woman soon, remember. 'beti life is never option."
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man smiles down to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass warmly.
  
  Losing the warmth of you, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass falls back a notch, returning your smile.
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man releases the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass.
  
  Turning to the plaza, you say to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "Time to see place."
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says to you, in bendune:
       "Well...I'm hungry."
  
  A Large, Sandstone Plaza [N, S, W]
     Square shaped block of tannish colored sandstone, each three cords by
  three cords in length, have been set into the ground to form a solid footing
  to this plaza.  Tents of every imaginable color lay sprawled across the
  plaza, jumbled together in a meshed spray of brightly splashed hues.
  Various humans and humanoids, each and every one decorated in tribal
  markings, mill about the plaza.  
     An archway in the southern wall leads into a blue-tinged stone road to
  the south.  
  A patchwork hide tent has been erected here.
  The braided, sun-darkened man walks across the plaza.
  A braided, vine-tattooed huntress carries a load of pelts on her shoulder.
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass has arrived from the south.
  
  Tugging it out after digging, you get your strip of dried beetle meat from your raptor-leather, darkly-stained satchel.
  It is very light.
  
  Skipping forward a few steps, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says to you, in bendune:
       "I hope they have something I've never tried before."
  
  Holding it out without looking, you give your strip of dried beetle meat to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass exclaims to you, in bendune:
       "Buuuka!"
  
  You ask, in bendune:
       "What?"
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man stops, turning to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass.
  
  Shoving it back roughly, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass exclaims to you, in bendune:
       "I want something /new/!"
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass gives you her strip of dried beetle meat.
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man's brow knits, fumbling with your strip of dried beetle meat as it is roughly returned.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass asks you, in bendune:
       "Like..I don't know what...can't we see?"
  
  Shrugging, you put your strip of dried beetle meat into your raptor-leather, darkly-stained satchel.
  
  A Large, Sandstone Plaza [N, S, W]
     Square shaped block of tannish colored sandstone, each three cords by
  three cords in length, have been set into the ground to form a solid footing
  to this plaza.  Tents of every imaginable color lay sprawled across the
  plaza, jumbled together in a meshed spray of brightly splashed hues.
  Various humans and humanoids, each and every one decorated in tribal
  markings, mill about the plaza.  
     An archway in the southern wall leads into a blue-tinged stone road to
  the south.  
  A patchwork hide tent has been erected here.
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass is standing here, looking tired.
  - she is carrying a large bag.
  The braided, sun-darkened man walks across the plaza.
  A braided, vine-tattooed huntress carries a load of pelts on her shoulder.
  
  Nodding, you say, in bendune:
       "Yes."
  
  You enter a patchwork hide tent.
  Inside a Hide Tent [Leave]
     A variety of animal hides have been stretched over a lattice of small
  pymlithe branches, forming the framework of this tent.  Skins of duskhorn,
  gizhat, tregil, and even carru not only enclose this structure, but also
  cover most of the floor in their softened furs.  They fall a cord short of a
  stone-circled pit in the northeastern corner, where a large roasting spit
  and several flat rock slabs have been positioned near the burning cooking
  fire.  Just nearby, along the eastern side of the tent, are a set of low
  sandstone blocks that serve as a counter.  Behind them several shelves rise
  up from the floor, on which a plethora of bowls, jars, and plates full of
  various foodstuffs can be seen.  
  The green-eyed, vine-inked elf stands behind the low-stone counter here.
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass has entered a patchwork hide tent.
  
  99/99h, 86/86s, 107/121e [unarmed|standing|walking|bendune|late at night]
  [riding: none|]list
  the green-eyed, vine-inked elf has the following goods to trade:
  01) a bowl of dark-roasted kalans for 38 obsidian coins, many are available.
  02) a bowl of mashed tuber paste for 23 obsidian coins, many are available.
  03) a bowl of spiced duskhorn and root stew for 23 obsidian coins, many are available.
  04) a dried kalan fruit for 56 obsidian coins, many are available.
  05) a grilled rack of ribs for 56 obsidian coins, many are available.
  06) a kalan fruit for 18 obsidian coins, many are available.
  07) a pungent roasted root for 18 obsidian coins, many are available.
  08) a roasted kalan fruit for 90 obsidian coins, many are available.
  09) a roasted sweet yellow root for 20 obsidian coins, many are available.
  10) a slice of gritty brown bread for 2 obsidian coins, many are available.
  11) a small cup of kalan jam for 54 obsidian coins, many are available.
  
  Pointing to the various foodstuffs, leaning over a bit, you say to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "New."
  
  Her bright mood returning in a rush, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass tucks her small, desert-camouflaged lizard away in the smooth folds of her cloak.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass stops using her small, desert-camouflaged lizard.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass puts her small, desert-camouflaged lizard into her layered black cloak with an agate clasp.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass leans on the counter, squinting at the shelves beyond.
  
  Hesitantly, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass asks you, in bendune:
       "What do you think looks good?"
  
  Shaking your head a bit, you say to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "Nothing."
  
  Leaning over, you whisper to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass in bendune:
       "Necks."
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass looks up at the green-eyed, vine-inked elf.
  
  Firmly, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says to the green-eyed, vine-inked elf, in sirihish:
       "I'bl try the stew."
  
  The green-eyed, vine-inked elf trades a bowl of spiced duskhorn and root stew to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass puts her pile of allanaki coins into her raptor-leather, darkly-stained satchel.
  
  Grinding up a bowl of fresh paste, the green-eyed, vine-inked elf says, in northern-accented sirihish:
       "Anothir day begins anew.  Aksen, ak'sa."
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass asks you, in sirihish:
       "Let's take it outside to eat. Do you want one?"
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass gets her pile of allanaki coins from her raptor-leather, darkly-stained satchel.
  
  The green-eyed, vine-inked elf says, in northern-accented sirihish:
       "I am closed, come back at dawx."
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says to you, in sirihish:
       "We'll nhare."
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says to you, in sirihish:
       "It'll be fon."
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man shakes your head in stoic response.
  
  You step out to...
  
  A Large, Sandstone Plaza [N, S, W]
     Square shaped block of tannish colored sandstone, each three cords by
  three cords in length, have been set into the ground to form a solid footing
  to this plaza.  Tents of every imaginable color lay sprawled across the
  plaza, jumbled together in a meshed spray of brightly splashed hues.
  Various humans and humanoids, each and every one decorated in tribal
  markings, mill about the plaza.  
     An archway in the southern wall leads into a blue-tinged stone road to
  the south.  
  A patchwork hide tent has been erected here.
  The braided, sun-darkened man walks across the plaza.
  A braided, vine-tattooed huntress carries a load of pelts on her shoulder.
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass emerges from a patchwork hide tent.
  
  A Large, Sandstone Plaza [N, E, W]
     Square shaped block of tannish colored sandstone, each three cords by
  three cords in length, have been set into the ground to form a solid footing
  to this plaza.  Tents of every imaginable color lay sprawled across the
  plaza, jumbled together in a meshed spray of brightly splashed hues.
  Various humans and humanoids, each and every one decorated in tribal
  markings, mill about the plaza.  
  A tent made of leather and sandcloth has been set up along the plaza.
  A tall, tanned elven tribesman lounges around nearby.
  A squinted, long-nosed tribal man walks through the plaza here.
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass has arrived from the east.
  
  A Large, Sandstone Plaza [N, E, W]
     Square shaped block of tannish colored sandstone, each three cords by
  three cords in length, have been set into the ground to form a solid footing
  to this plaza.  Tents of every imaginable color lay sprawled across the
  plaza, jumbled together in a meshed spray of brightly splashed hues.
  Various humans and humanoids, each and every one decorated in tribal
  markings, mill about the plaza.  
  The lanky, green-haired elf skulks along, trying to blend in.
  A thin, ashen-haired woman squats beneath a leather half-tent.
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass has arrived from the east.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says to you, in bendune:
       "It's all sandstone..everywhere..."
  
  You say, in bendune:
       "Yes."
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says to you, in bendune:
       "I thought it would be flowers."
  
  Dryly, you say to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "Not wasteful enough for city people."
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass asks you, in bendune:
       "Where will we sit? Wait..how about in the shade by that big statue, near the entrance?"
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man shrugs, turning about.
  
  <they find a place to sit>
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man glances around, brow knitting.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass shrugs.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says to you, in bendune:
       "I'm not hungry any more."
  
  Finding a place near the archway, you sit down and rest your tired bones.
  
  Wearily, you look up at the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass gives you her bowl of spiced duskhorn and root stew.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass sits down.
  
  Placing it some distance from himself, you drop your bowl of spiced duskhorn and root stew.
  
  Eyeing you, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass asks you, in bendune:
       "You aren't even going to try it?"
  
  You say to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "Could be poisoned."
  
  Crawling half across you, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass snatches up the stew, drawing it to her.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass picks up a bowl of spiced duskhorn and root stew.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says to you, in bendune:
       "Hmh."
  
  Taking a huge slurp, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass eats a portion of her bowl of spiced duskhorn and root stew.
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man shrugs once to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass takes a bite of her small portion of a bowl of spiced duskhorn and root stew.
  
  Her dusky mouth wet with carelessness, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says to you, in bendune:
       "It's extremely delicious."
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man regards the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass with incredibly obvious worry.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says to you, in bendune:
       "I love duskhorn."
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass eats her small portion of a bowl of spiced duskhorn and root stew.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass puts her pile of allanaki coins into her raptor-leather, darkly-stained satchel.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass gets her darkly-stained water gourd from her raptor-leather, darkly-stained satchel.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass pops the cork with the flats of her thumbs.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass drinks greyish water from her darkly-stained water gourd.
  
  You ask the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "Preparing for trial?"
  
  Refastening it, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass puts her darkly-stained water gourd into her raptor-leather, darkly-stained satchel.
  
  Nervously, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says to you, in bendune:
       "Why? No."
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass asks you, in bendune:
       "How?"
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says to you, in bendune:
       "No."
  
  Tapping a finger to your temple, you say to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "Prepare."
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says to you, in bendune:
       "I don't want to think about it."
  
  Quietly, you say to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "Don't be foolish."
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass looks at you.
  
  Lowering her gaze to her bare hands, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says to you, in bendune:
       "I know."
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man nods once.
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man draws an arm around the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass.
  
  The enormous sun rises above the barren plains in the east.
  The red orb of Jihae, the red moon, begins to vanish as it slowly sets.
  
  Patting her on the back, you say to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "Time for ride."
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass whispers to you, in bendune:
       "I have to be a Seik woman so soon, it makes me want to be so reckless and childish. I'm afraid."
  
  You stop resting, and stand up.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass stands up.
  
  Glancing away, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says to you, in bendune:
       "I have another animal to get from the stables, nearer the gate."
  
  Leaning over, you whisper to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass in bendune:
       "Remember this, then. Always here."
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man nods vaguely as you begins to walk.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass offers you a wan smile.
  
  You say to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "Inix is at Friel's."
  
  Tossing her braid-coiled head, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says to you, in bendune:
       "OX, is at Friel's."
  
  You nod to her.
  
  You ask the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "Have one more?"
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says to you, in bendune:
       "Yes. Dona's lizard."
  
  You ask the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "Why have Dona's lizard?"
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says to you, in bendune:
       "She let me ride him."
  
  Firmly, you say to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "Do not take Dona's lizard."
  
  <walk walk walk>
  
  You get your blue and purple-braided leather ticket from your tightly-woven sash of dark sandcloth.
  It is very light.
  
  You get your pile of allanaki coins from your raptor-leather, darkly-stained satchel.
  There were 440 coins.
  It is very light.
  
  A purple-haired half-breed stablehand takes 20 coins and gets a brown inix from the stables.
  
  You begin leading a brown inix.
  A brown inix falls in behind you.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass gets her blue and purple-braided leather ticket from her tightly-woven sash of dark sandcloth.
  
  You say to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "Say yes, sepa."
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass gets her pile of allanaki coins from her raptor-leather, darkly-stained satchel.
  
  A purple-haired half-breed stablehand takes the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass's money and gets a wooly brown plains-ox from the stables.
  
  You say to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "Return lizard. Not take again."
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass begins leading a wooly brown plains-ox.
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man climbs up a brown inix with a swing of each leg.
  
  Glancing up as she twines the reins around her narrow hand, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says to you, in bendune:
       "I will."
  
  You jump up onto a brown inix's back.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass jumps up onto a wooly brown plains-ox's back.
  
  Nodding, you say to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "Good."
  
  Propping it against a knee, you hold your curved agafari shield.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass straps her large bag to a wooly brown plains-ox's back.
  
  You begin guarding the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass straps her thin, curving bone cage to a wooly brown plains-ox's back.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass straps her thin, curving bone cage to a wooly brown plains-ox's back.
  
  You put your pile of allanaki coins into your raptor-leather, darkly-stained satchel.
  
  You strap your sturdy, dark-wood cradle to a brown inix's back.
  
  <walk walk walk>
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass swings her legs over and jumps off of a wooly brown plains-ox.
  A wooly brown plains-ox curls up on the ground.
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man waits near the edge of the stable with a patient expression.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass gets her leather ticket from her tightly-woven sash of dark sandcloth.
  
  A half-elven stablehand takes the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass's money and gets an inix from the stables.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass begins leading an inix.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass puts her pile of allanaki coins into her raptor-leather, darkly-stained satchel.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass jumps up onto a wooly brown plains-ox's back.
  A wooly brown plains-ox rises from the ground, and clambers to its feet.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass nods at you.
  
  <ride to gates>
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass tugs an inix's reins.
  
  You raise the hood of your layered black cloak with an agate clasp.
  
  Mimicking you, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass raises the hood of her layered black cloak with an agate clasp.
  
  West of the Scaien Gates [N, E, S, W]
     The still intact portions, few though they may be, of this wide stone
  road lie half sunken into mud and are further covered by scrub debris that
  appears to have been violently uprooted and tossed about.  What remains of
  this pale backbone of a road lies across these lands in a long and twisting
  fashion, following the southern border of the Grey Forest.
     The broken, muddy road winds east and west here, running through
  thickets of agafari, their grey-green leaves dancing with each shift of the
  wind.
     Immediately to the east looms the impressive Scaien gates.  Atop their
  carved alabaster entry arch, a beacon blazes at its apex.  To the north, a
  crude tower peeks over the mud spattered Scaien Wall, standing guard over
  the gates from the inside.
  A brown inix stands here, carrying the svelte, well-toned half-giant on his back.
  The short figure in a layered black cloak with an agate clasp has arrived from the east, riding a wooly brown plains-ox.
  An inix has arrived from the east.
  
  The figure in a layered black cloak with an agate clasp's head swivels from side to side alertly as you rides along.
  
  The short figure in a layered black cloak with an agate clasp has arrived from the east, riding a wooly brown plains-ox.
  An inix has arrived from the east.
  
  <riding across North Road>
  
  Guiding an inix southerly along the road, you say, in bendune:
       "Tic tic."
  
  <further along>
  
  North Road [N, E, W]
     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 disembodied head of a gortok is here discarded by the road, plucked clean of eyes.
  The short figure in a layered black cloak with an agate clasp has arrived from the east, riding a wooly brown plains-ox.
  An inix has arrived from the east.
  
  The short figure in a layered black cloak with an agate clasp says to you, in bendune:
       "Ew."
  
  The figure in a layered black cloak with an agate clasp rides by the disembodied head of a gortok after giving it a brief glance.
  
  Commenting, you say, in bendune:
       "Tasted good."
  
  The short figure in a layered black cloak with an agate clasp says to you, in bendune:
       "Not after so long in the sun with the insects."
  
  Replying casually, you say, in bendune:
       "Had fresh."
  
  The short figure in a layered black cloak with an agate clasp shuts up.
  
  Gaze scanning the horizon, the short figure in a layered black cloak with an agate clasp sits clumsily astride a wooly brown plains-ox.
  
  The figure in a layered black cloak with an agate clasp leads the trio of beasts through the stone span, crouching low over an inix.
  
  The short figure in a layered black cloak with an agate clasp looks up at you.
  An inix is in excellent condition.
  An inix does not look tired.
  
  Her voice chirping and bright, the short figure in a layered black cloak with an agate clasp asks you, in bendune:
       "Do you think we'll see a carru?"
  
  You say to the short figure in a layered black cloak with an agate clasp, in bendune:
       "No."
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass lowers the hood of her layered black cloak with an agate clasp.
  
  A wooly brown plains-ox lets out a low, wavering moo.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says to you, in bendune:
       "It's too beautiful a day to hide. Feel that breeze? That is a nice breeze."
  
  The figure in a layered black cloak with an agate clasp slows an inix, bringing it alongside a wooly brown plains-ox.
  
  Straightening atop a wooly brown plains-ox, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass shifts her shoulders and lifts her face into the wind.
  
  The figure in a layered black cloak with an agate clasp leans over with a hand outstretched, pulling up the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass' hood.
  
  You say to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "Hood up."
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass raises the hood of her layered black cloak with an agate clasp.
  
  The short figure in a layered black cloak with an agate clasp slaps lightly at your hand.
  
  The figure in a layered black cloak with an agate clasp frowns at the short figure in a layered black cloak with an agate clasp.
  
  The short figure in a layered black cloak with an agate clasp asks you, in bendune:
       "Why?"
  
  l w
  West of here are Scrub Plains.
  [Very far]
  Nothing.
  [Far]
  Nothing.
  [Near]
  A camp of brightly-colored tents has been pitched just off the road.
  
  You say to the short figure in a layered black cloak with an agate clasp, in bendune:
       "Young one is defenseless."
  
  Matter-of-factly, you say to the short figure in a layered black cloak with an agate clasp, in bendune:
       "Easy rape. Easy steal."
  
  The short figure in a layered black cloak with an agate clasp says to you, in bendune:
       "I have a spear and knife just like you."
  
  You say to the short figure in a layered black cloak with an agate clasp, in bendune:
       "Young face easy to see."
  
  You say to the short figure in a layered black cloak with an agate clasp, in bendune:
       "Young face fools no one."
  
  The short figure in a layered black cloak with an agate clasp turns her hood-shadowed face away from you.
  
  The figure in a layered black cloak with an agate clasp stares at the short figure in a layered black cloak with an agate clasp for a long moment before continuing on.
  
  Scrub Plains [N, E, S, W]
     A vast and rolling plain unfolds in all directions, in an endless
  reach of dry and dusty land.  The browning grasses here are less present
  than in the more southernly plains, and the growths of thornbrush and
  ocotillo are gradually replaced with short, tangled shrubs of a greyish
  color, their thin leaves shaped like spearheads.  Squat agafari trees have
  taken root, widely spaced or in sparse groves.  
     To the east, the white stones of the North Road gleam faintly.
  A camp of brightly-colored tents has been pitched just off the road.
  A feathery-leafed plant grows from the desert soil.
  The short figure in a layered black cloak with an agate clasp has arrived from the east, riding a wooly brown plains-ox.
  An inix has arrived from the east.
  
  You enter a camp of brightly-colored tents, riding a brown inix.
  Before an Encampment of Colorful Tents [N, Leave]
     A pair of thick bone poles flank a narrow passage between the myriad
  tents, each mekillot bone rising four cords in height.  A mantis skull tops
  one, while the angular skull of a gith adorns the top of the other.  A
  simple mat of woven pech grass forms a small, overhead shelter for the
  sentinels stationed here.  A dim babble of voices drifts from the cloister
  of tents around a clearing to the north.  
  The male wearing a thin, white-sandcloth facewrap is standing here.
  The short figure in a layered black cloak with an agate clasp has entered a camp of brightly-colored tents, riding a wooly brown plains-ox
  An inix has entered a camp of brightly-colored tents.
  
  Laughter and the sounds of music float in from the north, drifting lightly on the unseen currents of the wind.
  
  You lower the hood of your layered black cloak with an agate clasp.
  
  Resting it on an inix, you stop holding your curved agafari shield.
  
  You swing your legs to the side and dismount.
  
  Taking her time to settle the folds upon her shoulders, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass lowers the hood of her layered black cloak with an agate clasp.
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man leads an inix further into the camp full of noise and bustling bodies.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass swings her legs to the side and dismounts.
  
  Sparse sands blow across your path.
  A Sandy Clearing Among the Colorful Tents [E, S, W]
     Small campfires dot this central area of the encampment, circling
  around a broad firepit.  Arabeti women sit on sandstone slabs, pouring wax
  on fabric and tending to meats cooking on the fire, while dark-eyed toddlers
  chase each other, their naked skin an assortment of brown and bronze hues.
  A few drums rest near the firepit, their thin membrane covers secured to
  bone bases with sinew and loreshi reeds.  
     On the far end of the area near a meeting tent, several men crouch,
  passing a long-handled bone pipe between them.  The earthy, pungent aroma of
  animal dung wafts from a bone-framed corral in the west.  
     Toward the east, a few couples wander to and from an enormous tent, some
  carrying blankets and pillows in through the paint-adorned flap.  
  An enormous tent of blue and orange batiked fabric looms over the clearing's north end.
  A stone-lined firepit is set in the middle of the open ground.
  The inky-haired, turquoise-eyed young girl sits playing the mandolin.
  The lithe, emerald-eyed young woman sits near a small cask of water.
  The sturdy, topaz-eyed man crouches near the fire, a sword across his lap.
  The burly, greying man relaxes by the firepit.
  The brown-skinned, olive-green eyed woman sits weaving near the campfire.
  A brown inix has arrived from the south.
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass has arrived from the south.
  An inix has arrived from the south.
  A wooly brown plains-ox has arrived from the south.
  
  Sparse sands blow across your path.
  A Crudely Constructed, Bone-framed Corral [E]
     A large swath of dune within the encampment has been enclosed by a
  crude fence which rises from the sands to four cords in height.  The fence
  is constructed of mekillot bones, secured together by knotted lengths of
  hemp rope.  
     Various types of animals, including inix, erdlu and escru are
  cloistered together in groups, separated into smaller paddocks within the
  corral.  The stench of beasts and their dung lingers strongly here, despite
  the gusting of desert winds.  
  The rangy, dark-braided man tosses dried grasses to the mounts.
  The graceful, amber-eyed young woman is here, training a young erdlu.
  A brown inix has arrived from the east.
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass has arrived from the east.
  An inix has arrived from the east.
  A wooly brown plains-ox has arrived from the east.
  
  <shack up beasts>
  
  You ask the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "Where want?"
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man holds up your sturdy, dark-wood cradle.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass puts her small stone token into her tightly-woven sash of dark sandcloth.
  
  You stop leading the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass.
  
  You now follow the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass puts her small stone token into her raptor-leather, darkly-stained satchel.
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass walks east.
  You follow the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, and walk east.
  
  Sparse sands blow across your path.
  A Sandy Clearing Among the Colorful Tents [E, S, W]
     Small campfires dot this central area of the encampment, circling
  around a broad firepit.  Arabeti women sit on sandstone slabs, pouring wax
  on fabric and tending to meats cooking on the fire, while dark-eyed toddlers
  chase each other, their naked skin an assortment of brown and bronze hues.
  A few drums rest near the firepit, their thin membrane covers secured to
  bone bases with sinew and loreshi reeds.  
     On the far end of the area near a meeting tent, several men crouch,
  passing a long-handled bone pipe between them.  The earthy, pungent aroma of
  animal dung wafts from a bone-framed corral in the west.  
     Toward the east, a few couples wander to and from an enormous tent, some
  carrying blankets and pillows in through the paint-adorned flap.  
  An enormous tent of blue and orange batiked fabric looms over the clearing's north end.
  A stone-lined firepit is set in the middle of the open ground.
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass is standing here.
  - she is carrying a large bag.
  The inky-haired, turquoise-eyed young girl sits playing the mandolin.
  The lithe, emerald-eyed young woman sits near a small cask of water.
  The sturdy, topaz-eyed man crouches near the fire, a sword across his lap.
  The burly, greying man relaxes by the firepit.
  The brown-skinned, olive-green eyed woman sits weaving near the campfire.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass enters an enormous tent of blue and orange batiked fabric.
  You enter an enormous tent of blue and orange batiked fabric.
  Communal Area [N, Leave]
     Several of the Arabeti gather in clusters within this spacious tent,
  tending to chores or relaxing together.  Baskets and nets hanging from bone
  supports scatter around the floor, some containing large eggs and skeins of
  wool.  The walls, fashioned from waxed cotton and reinforced with strips of
  dyed leather, exhibit typical Arabeti scenes in muted desert hues.  
     The back wall opens out into another room, with bedrolls, piles of furs,
  and blue-batiked pillows evident through the opening.  Sandstone blocks
  stack up to the high ceilings in each room, beside smoke-holes for campfires
  that flicker and smolder on the ground throughout the tent.  
  A pile of softly-tanned sleeping furs lies along the back of the tent.
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass is standing here.
  - she is carrying a large bag.
  The wiry, sharp-eyed woman stands here, eyes narrowed in observation.
  
  Drawing it back, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass opens the flap.
  
  The wiry, sharp-eyed woman steps aside, allowing the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass to pass.
  Ducking, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass walks north.
  You follow the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, and walk north.
  
  Communal Sleeping Area [S, Quit, Save]
     Bedrolls and pillows of linen and silk are strewn on the ground in
  this wide back room of the tent, placed in groups of two to six around a
  central campfire surrounded by scorched blocks of colorful sandstone.  
     A multi-tiered bone rack crouches beside each grouping, each containing
  various weapons, tools, and assorted batiked clothing draped over the top
  tiers.  Tribal men and women come and go quietly through the sleeping room,
  maneuvering around couples in various states of undress on and underneath
  their hide blankets.  
     Bright stylized stars of mica-augmented grey pigment climb up the tent
  walls in odd clusters, with a bold pearly-white moon and desert-red sun
  surrounding a runic depiction of Suk-Krath's blazing flames on the edges of
  the central smoke hole.  
  A winerack, made of carved bone, sits here.
  A lizard-embossed incense burner, made of fired red clay, sits here.
  Some heavy baobab shelves are full of food and seasonings.
  A tregil-carved wooden chest is here stuffed with tools.
  A rectangular sandy-red carpet is here packed with wood and casks.
  A vivid blue rug, crested in black with fighting hawks, lies spread out here.
  A long yellowed-bone bin is here overflowing with animal parts and stones.
  Sitting low on the floor, on a base of snarling tembo, is a deep maroon table.
  A gwoshi-carved wooden chest is here brimming with plants and herbs.
  A couple of serieses of hanging cloth pockets are here.
  An old, stained barrel is here holding bag, games, and instruments.
  A tun of water sits near the smoke hole, sweating next to a scorched block.
  A pile of softly-tanned sleeping furs is here against the back wall of the tent.
  A tan-colored tent lies here, bound into a portable bundle.
  A clay teapot sits here, floral patterns adorning its sides.
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass is standing here.
  - she is carrying a large bag.
  The hairy, tattoo-faced young man sits beside some tattooed animal hides.
  The wiry, limpid-eyed man slouches nearby, deceptively relaxed.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass puts her large bag onto a low, tembo-carved baobab table.
  
  Glancing around the crowded chamber, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says to you, in bendune:
       "I'm not sure."
  
  Setting it down gently, you put your sturdy, dark-wood cradle onto a low, tembo-carved baobab table.
  
  You put your long agafari branch onto a low, tembo-carved baobab table.
  
  You put your long agafari branch onto a low, tembo-carved baobab table.
  
  With a sigh, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass sits on a pile of softly-tanned sleeping furs.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass gets her small, desert-camouflaged lizard from her layered black cloak with an agate clasp.
  
  Unlacing them, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass stops using her pair of darkly-stained, knee-high raptor-hide boots.
  
  Curtly, you say to the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass, in bendune:
       "Stay in tents this time. Ask to go place."
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man moves toward the flap, reaching out with a hand.
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass exclaims to you, in bendune:
       "I did!"
  
  Pulling one fur across her close-clad legs, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says to you, in bendune:
       "Dona took me north."
  
  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass curls up there in the pile, tossing her boots aside and pillowing her head on her arm.
  
  Settling onto her left side, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass rests on a pile of softly-tanned sleeping furs.
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man turns, squinting over at the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass.
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man's jaw clenches.
  
  Sleepily, her eyelids heavy, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass says to you, in bendune:
       "I wouldn't leave the tents by myself..."
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man opens the flap a bit rougher than is necessary.
  
  s (muttering)
  Communal Area [N, Leave]
     Several of the Arabeti gather in clusters within this spacious tent,
  tending to chores or relaxing together.  Baskets and nets hanging from bone
  supports scatter around the floor, some containing large eggs and skeins of
  wool.  The walls, fashioned from waxed cotton and reinforced with strips of
  dyed leather, exhibit typical Arabeti scenes in muted desert hues.  
     The back wall opens out into another room, with bedrolls, piles of furs,
  and blue-batiked pillows evident through the opening.  Sandstone blocks
  stack up to the high ceilings in each room, beside smoke-holes for campfires
  that flicker and smolder on the ground throughout the tent.  
  A pile of softly-tanned sleeping furs lies along the back of the tent.
  The wiry, sharp-eyed woman stands here, eyes narrowed in observation.
  
  You close the flap.

  The nut-brown, tumble-maned lass idles a moment beside the drab, ochre-skinned woman's jewelry.
  
  The earthen, trinket-twined man steps up beside the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass silently.
  
  You begin guarding the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass.
  
  Reaching down, the nut-brown, tumble-maned lass absently...
  Continue Reading...
• 

  A Tuluki Dance by Rairen
  Added on Nov 16, 2011

  An atypical response to a GDB question about typical Zalanthan dancing. Aja Driamuasek and Ilune Jul Tavan unwind at the Tooth.

  ---

  (Aja Driamusek and Ilune Jul Tavan stumble across each other near the Sanctuary.)

   

   

  The delicate, lofty woman smiles faintly to you, nodding to you.

  The ethereal, fair-haired woman frowns, struggling with her hood as she pulls it over her head.

  You raise the hood of a hooded, white-trimmed, red cloak.

  Cracking a shadowed smile, you look up at the delicate, lofty woman.

   

  Lofty of stature and lean of frame, this woman's body bears a delicate portrayal.  With a thick, unruly sprout of brown-black hair that is pushed back in a disheveled heap, she might carry the vague silhouette of a gwoshi when nothing is worn on her head.  A few locks of contrasting hair fall around her brow, their blue shade concealing her bright green eyes at times.

  Her olive facial features are stricken into a defined structure with her freckled cheekbones prominently high, and her thin nose tilted upward, all cradled by a pointed chin.  Small, rounded ears poke out from either side of her head from beneath her mound of hair. 

  The delicate, lofty woman is in excellent condition.

  The delicate, lofty woman is using:

  <head>                   three intricate symbols in cobalt and white

  <worn on face>           a small, golden brown tortoiseshell nose-ring

  <worn around neck>       a tortoiseshell choker

  <worn about throat>      a length of multi-hued blue sandcloth

  <worn on torso>          a ruffled blue silk blouse

  <arms>                   many bands of brightly-colored inkings

  <right wrist>            a few bands of brightly-colored inkings

  <left wrist>             a few bands of brightly-colored inkings

  <worn on legs>           a long purple linen skirt

  <worn on right ankle>    an azure scalloped sandcloth scarf

  <left ankle>             a few bands of brightly-colored inkings

  <worn on feet>           a pair of shaggy quirri-hide boots

   

   

  The stout, crook-nosed man sends you a telepathic message:

       "Nah, and if I remember, last we talked I was a bit snippy..."

  To you casually, the delicate, lofty woman says, in tribal-accented sirihish:

     "I is seeing you, friend Aja."

   

   

  The stout, crook-nosed man sends you a telepathic message:

     "Sorry about that."

   

  The delicate, lofty woman holds out a hand above her eyes.

   

   

  The stout, crook-nosed man sends you a telepathic message:

       "I still owe ya a tour of the compound, too...  don't forget.  We should set a definite date."

  Turning to join her, you ask the delicate, lofty woman, in sirihish:

       "... And I am always glad to see you, Ilune.  Is all well?"

   

   

  You send a telepathic message to the stout, crook-nosed man:

       "Next week too soon?"

   

   

  The stout, crook-nosed man sends you a telepathic message:

       "Next week's perfect."

   

   

  Lifting their voices in unison, the drums reaching to a deafening clamor, a colorful, boisterous drum circle shouts, in sirihish:

       "The world, the whole world at peace! Give us peace!"

  You send a telepathic message to the stout, crook-nosed man:

       "And I don't remember you being snippy with me.  If you were, I hope I did nothing to earn it and if I did, you have my apologies."

   

   

  To you as she reaches out for your hand, the delicate, lofty woman says, in tribal-accented sirihish:

       "I is always well, friend Aja. I is missing Jhalav ways of mine. I is wanting spear of mine. I is happy with brother of mine here, though, friend Aja."

  The stout, crook-nosed man sends you a telepathic message:

       "Nah, just the few weeks leadin' up to the event were stressful..."

  Looking to her hand before lifting her own, gloved, and giving a quiet squeeze, you say to the delicate, lofty woman, in sirihish:

       "If you start to get too... uncomfortable, do what you must.  You'll have a welcome here when you need it."

  You send a telepathic message to the stout, crook-nosed man:

       "Mm. I can only imagine."

  You send a telepathic message to the stout, crook-nosed man:

     "Thank you for your kind words.  I'll see you next week, and finally have a glimpse of this estate of yours."

  Glancing north, then south, the delicate, lofty woman says, in tribal-accented sirihish:

       "I is wanting to join friend of mine, if you is wanting I to."

  The stout, crook-nosed man sends you a telepathic message:

       "Yeah, lookin' forward to it."

  The delicate, lofty woman smiles toward you in a charming manner.

  The stout, crook-nosed man sends you a telepathic message:

      "His Light, Aja."

  With a quiet chuckle, you say to the delicate, lofty woman, in sirihish:

       "If I'm wanting you to?  I think I would hope you would do as you please, within all normal bounds of reason, and enjoy yourself."

  You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.

  You send a telepathic message to the stout, crook-nosed man:

       "His Light guard you, Agent, a thousand times over."

  You dissolve the psychic link.

  Sounding confused, the delicate, lofty woman says, in tribal-accented sirihish:

       "I is just asking if you is wanting to talk and perhaps dance with I, friend Aja."

  Head canting to one side, her shadowed smile intrigued, you say to the delicate, lofty woman, in sirihish:

       "... Goodness, you do have a dancer's blood in you.  I would be... delighted... to be able to join you, if you wish it."

  You think:

       "... My other business can wait."

   

  You are carrying:

  a light brown, leather instrument case

   

   

  You now follow the delicate, lofty woman.

  The delicate, lofty woman releases your hand and wraps her arm around your waist, turning southward.

  To you conversationally, the delicate, lofty woman exclaims, in tribal-accented sirihish:

       "I is Jhalav, friend Aja. Please do not be fooled by brother of mine, who is -shyest- of all Jhalavs!"

  The figure in a hooded, white-trimmed, red cloak glances over the delicate, lofty woman and gives a surprised laugh, your light brown, leather instrument case bouncing against her hip while she rests her free arm on her shoulder.

   

  (Walking for the Tooth…)

   

   

   

  Mouth quirking, you say to the delicate, lofty woman, in sirihish:

       "If he is shy, dear Ilune, I fear I don't know what I would make of you."

  You feel like this woman is highly dangerous.

  To you cautiously, the delicate, lofty woman says, in tribal-accented sirihish:

       "I is not wanting to ask, friend Aja. I is fearing your answer..."

  (Hemote) The crisp aroma of mint lingers in the air around

  the figure in a hooded, white-trimmed, red cloak.

  The figure in a hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth duster has arrived from the west.

  The delicate, lofty woman glances to you briefly, her eyes then dipping to the ground with a hint of embarrassment.

  Pale eyes amused beneath the shadows of her hood, you say to the delicate, lofty woman, in sirihish:

       "... I'm afraid I don't know you well enough, although by all accounts you are a sociable, bold, and engaging young woman."

  Head lowering in a faint nod, the figure in a hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth duster ambles on past.

  The figure in a hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth duster walks north.

  Shrugging with a light swing of her arm, the delicate, lofty woman walks south.

  To you cheerily, the delicate, lofty woman says, in tribal-accented sirihish:

       "I is never called so many things, friend Aja..."

  Peering over, the delicate, lofty woman looks down at you.

  The figure in a hooded, white-trimmed, red cloak keeps a leisurely pace at the delicate, lofty woman's side, mouth quirking.

  With a hint of wryness to her voice, you ask the delicate, lofty woman, in sirihish:

       "Never?  Hm.  What have you been called then?"

   

   

  The delicate, lofty woman makes a flippant wave of her hand, laughing softly.

  The figure in a hooded, white-trimmed, red cloak echoes the delicate, lofty woman's laugh, her own quiet and wry, still.

  Her voice mumbling on the side of amusement, the delicate, lofty woman says, in tribal-accented sirihish:

       "I is called lots of things, I is just joking like city women is doing so often, friend Aja."

  With a simple shake of her head, you say to the delicate, lofty woman, in sirihish:

       "And you do it very well.  I should ask your pardon.  My... humor is at best elusive and at worst non-existent."

  (Hemote) The figure in a hooded, white-trimmed, red cloak studies the delicate, lofty woman with a sidelong gaze, her tone keeping a serene, conversational cadence.

  Holding out a scab-covered hand, a foul-smelling dwarvish beggar exclaims, in an unfamiliar tongue:

       "ksci! snhi muj gla uhylyzkab!"

   

   

  Shaking her head with a friendly smile to you, the delicate, lofty woman says, in tribal-accented sirihish:

       "I is liking you very much, friend Aja. I is not thinking humor of yours is worst."

  The figure in a hooded, white-trimmed, red cloak frowns down, fleetingly at a foul-smelling dwarvish beggar's hand.

  The delicate, lofty woman tugs you along away from a foul-smelling dwarvish beggar, grimacing.

  Recollecting herself and glancing back to her, you ask the delicate, lofty woman, in sirihish:

       "You are too kind, my friend.  Are we meeting someone, if I might ask?"

  The delicate, lofty woman asks, in tribal-accented sirihish:

       "Is you wanting to, friend Aja?"

  With a simple shake of her head, you say to the delicate, lofty woman, in sirihish:

       "Not at all.  It was more a question of your own desires."

  You think:

       "She's good."

  You feel that she is very, very good.

   

   

  To you slowly, the delicate, lofty woman says, in tribal-accented sirihish:

       "I is not wanting to dance with anyone but my friend Aja."

  You feel that this is utterly intriguing.

  With a softer voice, you ask the delicate, lofty woman, in sirihish:

       "Where did you learn to dance, Ilune?"

  You think:

       "Because you are breathtaking to watch."

  You feel a weary doubt, that even at your best, that you were never so good.

  To you simply, the delicate, lofty woman says, in tribal-accented sirihish:

       "I is learned as young Jhalav in tents of us."

  With a flickering smile, you say to the delicate, lofty woman, in sirihish:

       "I was dancer - many years ago, when I was much younger than I am now.  It has been a delight, seeing you."

  The delicate, lofty woman squeezes you affectionately, appearing flattered.

  Smiling to herself, the delicate, lofty woman walks south.

  (Hemote) The figure in a hooded, white-trimmed, red cloak lets out a soft breath, nearly a laugh.

  You think:

       "Very clever girl."

  The delicate, lofty woman turns as she nears the entrance, sliding her hand from around you.

  The delicate, lofty woman takes hold of your hand, tugging you inside.

   

   

   

  "The Tembo's Tooth" - Tavern [EWD Quit]

     Smooth, sanded cylini planks have been laid across the floor of this cramped room, their polished surface flickering in the lights of the candles. Dark stains splatter the wooden floor at odd intervals, disrupting the otherwise smooth contour of the wood with slight warps and bends.  A curved bar, formed from what appears to have once been highly polished agafari wood extends from the northern wall.  Spaced around it are several bare, ascetic wooden barstools.  A sturdy trapdoor has been set in the floor behind the bar.  Several rows of shelves have been inset into the wall behind the bar and contain a variety of local ales and liquor.  Willowy, vine-like plants drape from rounded clay bowls, the gloss of their leaves reflecting the dim light of the candles spaced around the room.  Rows of booths line the northern and southern walls while the center of the room is occupied by two rounded tables.

   

  To you over her shoulder, the delicate, lofty woman asks, in tribal-accented sirihish:

       "Where is you wanting to dance, friend Aja?"

  With a chuckle, following her in, lead by the hand, you say to the delicate, lofty woman, in sirihish:

       "Wherever there's room, in a place like the Tooth."

   

   

  l e

  To the east is "The Tembo's Tooth" - Spice Den.

  [Near]

  The stumpy, gnarled dwarf is sitting on a plush, embroidered couch.

  The short, barrel-chested dwarf stands here, scowling faintly.

  The chubby, brown-haired man is sitting on a plush, embroidered couch.

  The slender, raven-haired woman is sitting on a plush, embroidered couch.

   

   

  The delicate, lofty woman smirks, glancing around the tavern.

  The figure in a hooded, white-trimmed, red cloak shakes her head, her hood falling away from her face.

  You lower the hood of a hooded, white-trimmed, red cloak.

  To you, reaching up to your hood, the delicate, lofty woman says, in tribal-accented sirihish:

       "I is wanting to see this pretty hair of yours, friend Aja."

   

  Hair falling across her face as she casts the delicate, lofty woman an arch look, you say to the delicate, lofty woman, in sirihish:

       "Ask and you shall receive."

  To you, tugging your along through a string of tables to a quiet end of the tavern, the delicate, lofty woman says, in tribal-accented sirihish:

       "I is always asking, in case of this, friend Aja."

  The ethereal, fair-haired woman trots along after the delicate, lofty woman, squeezing through a crowd of drinking patrons.

  The delicate, lofty woman stops where there is a good few paces of room, turning around.

  Sliding it across an empty one with a pointed look to a nearby dwarf, you put your light brown, leather instrument case onto a compact agafari table.

  To you with a soothing motion of her hand, the delicate, lofty woman says, in tribal-accented sirihish:

       "I is thinking your lute is fine, friend Aja. No one is knowing how to play one here."

  Tugging at the clasp with a gloved hand, you stop using your hooded, white-trimmed, red cloak.

  With a soft breath, you say to the delicate, lofty woman, in sirihish:

       "They'll leave it be, I think."

  Draping it across it, you put your hooded, white-trimmed, red cloak onto a compact agafari table.

  The delicate, lofty woman smiles encouragingly, both hands on her hips as she awaits you.

  With an intrigued study of her before she steps closer, brushing at a strand of hair along the side of her face, you say to the delicate, lofty woman, in sirihish:

       "... Well, friend?  Do your worst."

  With a determined glint in her green eyes, the delicate, lofty woman says, in tribal-accented sirihish:

       "I is always doing worst of mine."

  The ethereal, fair-haired woman chuckles, softly, reaching for one of the delicate, lofty woman's hands.

  You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:

       "Thief! Thief!"

  The coy-looking, young elf raises the hood of a deep-hooded, brown robe.

  (Hemote) The ethereal, fair-haired woman glances, fleetingly, into the next room.

  The delicate, lofty woman places her hands on your shoulders, smiling in a reassuring way to you.

  Her brow peaking, the delicate, lofty woman looks down at you.

  You notice the delicate, lofty woman start watching you.

  Sliding gloved hands to rest against her waist, shoulders rolling, you say to the delicate, lofty woman, in sirihish:

       "... You seem to favor slower dances..."

   

   

  (Hemote) The crisp aroma of mint lingers in the air around the ethereal, fair-haired woman.

  To you quietly, nodding faintly, the delicate, lofty woman says, in tribal-accented sirihish:

       "You is knowing I well, friend Aja."

  Leaning into the delicate, lofty woman, the ethereal, fair-haired woman steps closer, slipping an arm further around her waist and easing into her rhythm.

  The delicate, lofty woman lifts a hand to rest on your neck, her other not moving from the shoulder.

  You feel acutely aware of everything.

  (hemote) The ethereal, fair-haired woman's pale eyes narrow, attentive in their wry, helpless amusement.

  The delicate, lofty woman twists her hips backward, tugging you along as she makes small steps away.

  You notice: The delicate, lofty woman's bright green eyes remain on you, collecting her form curiously as she moves.

  Arms tensing about the delicate, lofty woman's waist, the ethereal, fair-haired woman follows her, sidestepping and grazing past an admiring, taller man.

  The brutish, red-eyed half-giant has entered the world.

  The delicate, lofty woman guides you to turn to the side, taking a step nearly past you.

  Taking in a slow, relaxed breath, the ethereal, fair-haired woman brushes her knee against the delicate, lofty woman's leg, your flowing white linen skirt brushing against her.

  One of the ethereal, fair-haired woman's hands slips away from the delicate, lofty woman's waist, letting her turn and shift.

  You think:

       "... If only Brethel-da could see this..."

  The delicate, lofty woman's hands trail along your neck, resting to cup under your chin as she shimmies to side-step to each side. Her hips flair out from underneath her long purple linen skirt, and she stretches her leg past you to press her body back to you.

  The delicate, lofty woman bumps against you, offering a polite smile all of a sudden.

   

   

  Quietly, the delicate, lofty woman whispers to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:

       "You is best I has danced with in this city of yours, friend Aja."

  With an answering smile, a slight, teasing wrinkle of her nose, the ethereal, fair-haired woman lets a hand glide up the delicate, lofty woman's leg and hip, settling there as she lets the other hug to her back.

  With a grave tone and glittering eyes, you whisper to the delicate, lofty woman in sirihish:

       "I dare say you say that to whomever you are with... and thank you."

  The delicate, lofty woman throws her head back and laughs loudly.

  Shaking her head faintly, the delicate, lofty woman whispers to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:

       "I is not doing that, friend Aja...."

  (hemote) The ethereal, fair-haired woman's slender body shakes with supressed laughter, giving the delicate, lofty woman a fond squeeze, almost a hug.

  You notice: The delicate, lofty woman's hands squeeze you in return.

  With a quiet click of her tongue as she turns her, giving a slight twist, you whisper to the delicate, lofty woman in sirihish:

       "... My apologies then."

  The delicate, lofty woman releases you, folding her hands behind her back as she takes one step back.

  The delicate, lofty woman's brow lifts to you expectantly, a coy smile on her lips.

  Brow arching, the ethereal, fair-haired woman looks the delicate, lofty woman over from toe to head, taking her time in her quiet inspection, posture still slightly tensed, a dancer's tension.

  The delicate, lofty woman lifts her chin slightly to you, as though beckoning.

  Ever so slowly, the ethereal, fair-haired woman lifts a single gloved hand to the delicate, lofty woman almost but not quite touching her upper arm.

  You notice: The delicate, lofty woman's body twists slightly to touch the gloved hand.

  His curious, red-eyed gaze assessively scanning the area, the brutish, red-eyed half-giant grins broadly as settles back a bit to watch a graceful dance.

   

   

  With an easy flick of her wrist, the ethereal, fair-haired woman stretches further and pushes against the delicate, lofty woman's arm, encouraging her to spin around.

  The delicate, lofty woman giggles as she spins on her heel, stopping with her back facing you.

  The delicate, lofty woman wiggles her bottom from side to side, her hands still behind her back.

  With an easy, smooth stride, the ethereal, fair-haired woman closes the distance to the delicate, lofty woman in the same moment, an arm slipping about her waist.

  Laughter warming her own tone, you whisper to the delicate, lofty woman in sirihish:

       "... Did I get that right?"

  The ethereal, fair-haired woman reaches for one of the delicate, lofty woman's hands, lifting it, placing it at the back of her own neck.

  The delicate, lofty woman wraps her arms around your waist in turn, craning her neck back to lean her cheek against your own.

  The general ruckus in the tavern escalates slightly as a hooded figure rushes up the eastern ramp and into the room from the spice den, holding a sack of coins aloft and bellowing jubilantly.

  Smiling happily, the delicate, lofty woman whispers to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:

       "Yes."

  (hemote) The ethereal, fair-haired woman's hair, too-long, brushes at the delicate, lofty woman's neck and shoulder.

  The delicate, lofty woman's body shudders slightly at the touch, as though tickled.

  (hemote) The ethereal, fair-haired woman's eyes quickly scan over the room, studying the faces of the nearest and most entranced patrons.

  Behind the delicate, lofty woman, the ethereal, fair-haired woman curves and writhes, drawing her along with her to a silent, sinewous dance.

  The delicate, lofty woman's hips shake slowly from side to side, rubbing against you as her feet pad in place.

  You think:

       "Breathe..."

  The delicate, lofty woman's hand trails through your hair as she lets out a soft, content sigh.

  Transfixed by the dance, the brutish, red-eyed half-giant stands as still as stone, his gaze settling on the delicate, lofty woman and you for a long moment.

  With something like contentment teasing at the corner of her mouth, the ethereal, fair-haired woman begins to move backwards, guiding the delicate, lofty woman with cautious tenderness, at first.

  (hemote) The ethereal, fair-haired woman gives the delicate, lofty woman's waist an assuring squeeze.

  You think:

       "I've got you."

  You think:

       "Feel me, little one.  Listen..."

  You notice: The delicate, lofty woman's hand tugs slightly on your hair as she is squeezed.

  Her smile warming, steadying, the ethereal, fair-haired woman's eyes drift half-closed as she moves faster, her breathing escalating as she gives a sudden twirl, using her body and hands to guide the delicate, lofty woman.

  (hemote) Sweat glistens at the ethereal, fair-haired woman's collarbone.

   

  You think:

       "... Perfect..."

   

  The delicate, lofty woman twirls lightly on her toes, her hand trailing along you as she does. She slides to a stop, her pair of shaggy quirri-hide boots tapping on the ground.

  The delicate, lofty woman takes a decisive step toward you, placing a hand at your lower back and one at your shoulder.

   

  The hand at her waist lifts, the ethereal, fair-haired woman letting it rest against the side of the delicate, lofty woman face while she stills, but for the slightest of rockings from side to side.

  The ethereal, fair-haired woman gives the delicate, lofty woman's face a fond brush, gloved hand soft, while her other arm hangs at her side, motionless.

  You notice: The delicate, lofty woman tilts her head to rub against your hand with a pleased smile as she drifts from side to side.

  She reaches down and snatches up the unused hand, placing it on the delicate, lofty woman's neck.

  The ethereal, fair-haired woman lets the hand slide down to the side of the delicate, lofty woman's neck, joining the other, cupping her neck as she leans into her, swaying with her silent dance.

   

   

  The delicate, lofty woman takes three quick steps to one side, half-twisting back into place after causing no more than a lean in the dance.

  The chubby, brown-haired man has arrived from the east.

  The slender, raven-haired woman has arrived from the east.

  The short, barrel-chested dwarf has arrived from the east.

  The stumpy, gnarled dwarf grunts, squinting as he looks around.

  The ethereal, fair-haired woman's hands are feather light against the delicate, lofty woman's skin.

  The stumpy, gnarled dwarf walks west.

  With a glance around the tavern, the slender, raven-haired

  woman says, in sirihish:

       "Crowd picked up."

  You notice: The delicate, lofty woman's skin is shined with

  sweat.

  With a bright smile, the slender, raven-haired woman says to you, in sirihish:

       "Aja!  Hello. "

  The ethereal, fair-haired woman cracks a sharp, approving smile, her body following the movement of the delicate, lofty woman's own, as they dance a silent, sensuous dance in a quieter corner of the room.

  The brutish, red-eyed half-giant stoops a bit as he nods toward the chubby, brown-haired man, grinning.

  The chubby, brown-haired man nods to the slender, raven-haired woman, looking about.

  (hemote) The ethereal, fair-haired woman starts, stiffening.

  The slender, raven-haired woman says to the chubby, brown-haired man, in sirihish:

       "Oh, looks like we were missing dancing."

  Smiling, the chubby, brown-haired man asks, in sirihish:

       "Must be because I'm here, hmm?"

  The ethereal, fair-haired woman turns her head, picking out the slender, raven-haired woman and narrowing her pale eyes with amused greeting, body not easing away from the delicate, lofty woman's own.

  The delicate, lofty woman squints out past the gawking patrons immediately around them in the corner of the tavern to the slender, raven-haired woman.

   

   

  The delicate, lofty woman glances back to you, shrugging slightly.

  The delicate, lofty woman whispers to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:

       "I is not caring if all these ones are watching, friend Aja."

  The slender, raven-haired woman grins and waves to the delicate, lofty woman as she watches.

  Looking towards the corner, the chubby, brown-haired man asks, in sirihish:

       "Hmm?  Yes, you'd think I'd be told, hmm?"

  With a tone of grave apology, you whisper to the delicate, lofty woman in sirihish:

       "My pardon, little one.  I am so very out of practice... I shouldn't have let them distract me."

  The chubby, brown-haired man chuckles.

  Curiously, the chubby, brown-haired man looks up at the brutish, red-eyed half-giant.

   

  Shaking her head faintly, the delicate, lofty woman whispers to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:

       "I is needing no apology, friend Aja. I is having best time of life of mine."

  Smiling as he nods, the chubby, brown-haired man says to the brutish, red-eyed half-giant, in sirihish:

       "Hello."

  The slender, raven-haired woman says to the chubby, brown-

  haired man, in sirihish:

       "I fear we interrupted with our entrance."

  The delicate, lofty woman gives you an affectionate peck on the cheek, nodding reassuringly to you.

  Winking, the chubby, brown-haired man says to the slender, raven-haired woman, in sirihish:

       "We'd better go then."

  Head tilting up, the slender, raven-haired woman looks up at the brutish, red-eyed half-giant.

  The ethereal, fair-haired woman cracks a smile, nose grazing the delicate, lofty woman's hair while she chuckles and steps into an easy spin with her.

  The brutish, red-eyed half-giant says to the chubby, brown-haired man, in southern-accented sirihish:

       "Hello Agent. I'm Morjadin."

  The delicate, lofty woman's hands move over your body for a moment before finding their place at each hip.

  With a teasing volume to her voice, you say to the delicate, lofty woman, in sirihish:

       "I suppose they don't like the dance..."

  To you, half-snorting, the delicate, lofty woman says, in tribal-accented sirihish:

       "I is liking it, friend Aja."

  The chubby, brown-haired man looks up at the delicate, lofty woman.

  The chubby, brown-haired man looks at you.

  The ethereal, fair-haired woman slows the spin as easily, laughter fond and returning her hands to the sides of the delicate, lofty woman's neck.

   

  The chubby, brown-haired man says, in sirihish:

       "Hmm...to many clothes."

  The chubby, brown-haired man chuckles, looking back to the brutish, red-eyed half-giant.

  (hemote) The ethereal, fair-haired woman rolls her eyes skyward for a moment.

  The chubby, brown-haired man says to the brutish, red-eyed half-giant, in sirihish:

       "Ahh, good to see you."

  The slender, raven-haired woman says to the brutish, red-eyed half-giant, in sirihish:

       "Hey there Jadin!  I haven't seen you since that day outside the Bazaar when I talked to you about the Fist.  I was glad to hear you joined. "

  (hemote) Sweat glistening at her skin, the ethereal, fair-haired woman gives her shoulder a subtle lift.

  The slender, raven-haired woman says to the chubby, brown-haired man, in sirihish:

       "Be good.  I still have fruit to pelt you with."

   

   

  The loose shoulder to the ethereal, fair-haired woman's blouse slides down her neck, balancing precariously against her upper arm.

  With a wide grin, his red eyes lighting up a bit, the brutish, red-eyed half-giant says, in southern-accented sirihish:

       "Thanks! I like bein' seen too."

   

   

  After a laugh, the chubby, brown-haired man says to the slender, raven-haired woman, in sirihish:

       "You know I can't be good."

  The delicate, lofty woman rests her head against yours, murmuring softly.

  His eyes settling on the slender, raven-haired woman for a long moment, the brutish, red-eyed half-giant asks the slender, raven-haired woman, in southern-accented sirihish:

       "Oh, you the nice one that sent me to Sergeant Nora?"

  Chuckling, the slender, raven-haired woman says to the chubby, brown-haired man, in sirihish:

       "I know.  That's why I carry so much fruit."

  The chubby, brown-haired man nudges the slender, raven-haired woman.

  The delicate, lofty woman's hands glide up and down you as the two step back and forth, taking turns advancing in their twisting motion.

  Nodding, the slender, raven-haired woman says to the brutish, red-eyed half-giant, in sirihish:

       "That was me, although the Agent may disagree on the nice bit."

  Softly, her dance a slow roll, an unhurried, patient movement against her, you whisper to the delicate, lofty woman in sirihish:

       "Shh..."

  In amusement, the chubby, brown-haired man says to the slender, raven-haired woman, in sirihish:

       "Oh you're nice."

  (hemote) The air in the tavern already heated, humid, the

  ethereal, fair-haired woman's body is quite warm against the delicate, lofty woman's own.

  Raising a brow, the slender, raven-haired woman asks the chubby, brown-haired man, in sirihish:

       "I am?"

  The chubby, brown-haired man asks, in sirihish:

       "Well, let’s get going, hmm?"

  The slender, raven-haired woman nods.

  You notice: The delicate, lofty woman's chest is rising and falling irregularly, her breathing a quiet pant.

  His eyes peering up as he rubs at his brow, the brutish, red-eyed half-giant says, in southern-accented sirihish:

       "Oh. Well, thanks anyway, even if you are not nice. Sergeant Nora was good to me."

   

   

  Smiling, the chubby, brown-haired man says to the slender, raven-haired woman, in sirihish:

       "You always have fruit for me, so yes.  Nice."

  Smiling and waving to you and the delicate, lofty woman, the slender, raven-haired woman says, in sirihish:

       "Have fun dancing."

  The delicate, lofty woman's ruffled blue silk blouse flutters from side to side.

  With a smile as she drags a hand down the delicate, lofty woman's arm, you look at the slender, raven-haired woman.

  With a grin, the slender, raven-haired woman says to the brutish, red-eyed half-giant, in sirihish:

       "I'm glad she was and you joined us."

  Towards the pair dancing, the chubby, brown-haired man says, in sirihish:

       "Less clothes means better tips."

  You feel enraptured.

  The chubby, brown-haired man chuckles.

  The ethereal, fair-haired woman laughs, softly, sliding her hand around the delicate, lofty woman waist, again, letting it settle against the silk.

  The delicate, lofty woman glances down to her tattooed arm.

  Nodding, the chubby, brown-haired man asks the brutish, red-eyed half-giant, in sirihish:

       "See you about, hmm?"

  You contact the chubby, brown-haired man with the Way.

  You send a telepathic message to the chubby, brown-haired man:

       "*sensuous contentment shimmering across her thoughts* You are impossible, Brethel-da Kurac."

  You dissolve the psychic link.

  The chubby, brown-haired man moves towards the street, hand in hand with the slender, raven-haired woman.

  With a polite nod, his eyes closing in his direction, the brutish, red-eyed half-giant says to the chubby, brown-haired man, in southern-accented sirihish:

       "Alright then. Thanks."

  You notice: The delicate, lofty woman's glittering tattoos glisten with her coat of sweat. She drips from her chin.

  Pale eyes refocusing on her face, softening, the ethereal, fair-haired woman cups the delicate, lofty woman's chin between a few gloved fingers.

  Body slowing, stilling, you whisper to the delicate, lofty woman in sirihish:

       "You should rest, little one.  You don't care for yourself..."

  (hemote) A few drops of sweat roll down the ethereal, fair-haired woman's neck, disappearing beneath your loose-cut white linen blouse.

  Stopping, her eyes wandering over you without her chin moving, the delicate, lofty woman whispers to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:

       "I is fine, friend Aja."

  The stout, crook-nosed man has arrived from the west.

  Soothingly, giving a protective squeeze of her other arm, you whisper to the delicate, lofty woman in sirihish:

       "There will always be time for another dance.  Let me find you a drink of water, hm?"

  You notice: The delicate, lofty woman's cheeks begin to glow in a blush.

  Dancing to a sensuous and silent melody, the ethereal, fair-haired woman holds close to the delicate, lofty woman, one hand cupping her chin.

  The stout, crook-nosed man sits at a curved, agafari bar.

  The robust, head-shaven man trades a red-striped granite tankard to the stout, crook-nosed man.

  You feel like this girl is going to faint away if she isn't careful.

   

  Following along, the delicate, lofty woman whispers to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:

       "I is wanting to kiss you, friend Aja. I is too hot to not."

  The delicate, lofty woman stares at you with a serious expression, the fingers of her hand curling over your cheek.

  Apology in her pale eyes, along with understanding before she lowers them, you whisper to the delicate, lofty woman in sirihish:

       "I... can't, Ilune..."

  His brow furrowing as he suddenly straightens, the brutish, red-eyed half-giant grumbles under his breath, shaking his head slowly as he lumbers off.

  Gently, you whisper to the delicate, lofty woman in sirihish:

       "... Forgive me..."

  (hemote) The ethereal, fair-haired woman leans, just a little, into the delicate, lofty woman's hand.

  Nodding faintly, the delicate, lofty woman whispers to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:

       "I is forgiving of you, friend Aja."

  Smiling faintly, the delicate, lofty woman whispers to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:

       "Perhaps next time us is dancing, friend Aja."

  With a strained laugh, nose brushing her temple, you whisper to the delicate, lofty woman in sirihish:

       "You don't... It is a... long story.  A custom of mine."

   

  With a soft breath that ruffles the delicate, lofty woman's hair, you whisper to the delicate, lofty woman in sirihish:

       "I don't take favorites..."

  Laughing softly, the delicate, lofty woman whispers to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:

       "I is wanting to hear story of yours, friend Aja.

  Perhaps next time, when us is not dancing."

  With a grave nod, pale eyes fond, you whisper to the delicate, lofty woman in sirihish:

       "... Next time.  When you are not getting something to drink."

  The stout, crook-nosed man looks around a curved, agafari bar, then to the doorway.

  The ethereal, fair-haired woman gives the delicate, lofty woman's face a fond brush, again, before pulling back her hands, slowly.

  Regret plain in her eyes, the delicate, lofty woman whispers to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:

       "I is meaning to ask of your story, friend Aja. I is curious where you has learned instruments of yours."

  You think:

       "I'm too old for this."

  The delicate, lofty woman drops her hands from you casually.

  Looking over her, clearing her voice as she lifts it, you say to the delicate, lofty woman, in sirihish:

       "I might well ask you the same question.  For my part, I am... Circle-born."

   

   

  (hemote) No small amount of tension lingers in the ethereal, fair-haired woman's slender body, even after the dance has ended.

  You notice: The delicate, lofty woman's hand fidgets restlessly at her side, her eyes on you.

  Sliding it free, frowning a little, you get your leather waterskin from your leather-strapped, rich purple satchel.

  With a tone of practiced ease, pushing the skin into her hand, you say to the delicate, lofty woman, in sirihish:

       "You will take at least a drink of this.  Chaska would never forgive me if I let you faint away here."

  To you, her hand on her cheek, the delicate, lofty woman says, in tribal-accented sirihish:

       "I is wanting to talk more about story of yours, friend Aja. I is not having time today. I hope I is able soon."

  You give your leather waterskin to the delicate, lofty woman.

  The delicate, lofty woman accepts her leather waterskin with a polite smile.

  Her eyes on you, the delicate, lofty woman drinks water from her leather waterskin.

  With a deep nod, you say to the delicate, lofty woman, in sirihish:

       "If you wish, and only if you will share yours as well.  I do not think mine is as of as much interest."

  (hemote) The ethereal, fair-haired woman's breathing slowly calms, steadying.

  You notice: The delicate, lofty woman's green eyes wander over you thoughtfully.

  Hair clinging to her sweat-streaked skin, the ethereal, fair-haired woman gathers the tangled strands in one hand, lifting them away from her neck.

  To you, a hand on her slowly recovering chest, the delicate, lofty woman says, in tribal-accented sirihish:

       "I is so happy to. I is looking forward to this story of us, friend Aja."

  Handing it back with a warm smile, the delicate, lofty woman gives you her leather waterskin.

  Watching her before mirroring the gesture, you say to the delicate, lofty woman, in sirihish:

       "Until next time, Ilune?  His Light watch over you.  And thank you for the dance."

  With a look of quiet relief, you sip from your leather waterskin.

  To you as she steps close, patting your shoulder, the delicate, lofty woman says, in tribal-accented sirihish:

       "I is liking you very much, friend Aja. I is definitely reconsidering Jhalav ways of mine so I can share with us story of us."

  You think:

       "Story of us.  Oh, for pity's sake, Aja.  What are you doing?"

  The delicate, lofty woman turns to the side and steps past you, a pleased smile on her face as she drifts into the crowd.

  With a hint of a smile and touching her free hand to her own, you say to the delicate, lofty woman, in sirihish:

       "I'd be honored if you would... but I would not pry."

  The ethereal, fair-haired woman watches after the delicate, lofty woman before letting out a wry chuckle.

  You think:

       "I'm far, far too old for this."

  Over her shoulder, the delicate, lofty woman says, in tribal-accented sirihish:

       "I is offering, friend Aja."

  With a lingering smile, you put your leather waterskin into your leather-strapped, rich purple satchel.

  The delicate, lofty woman takes two steps backward, her eyes on you, then turns around and enters the crowd.

  The delicate, lofty woman has departed from the land of Zalanthas.

  (Aja Driamusek and Ilune Jul Tavan stumble across each other near the Sanctuary.)

   

   

  The delicate, lofty woman smiles faintly to you, nodding to you.

  The ethereal, fair-haired woman frowns, struggling with her hood as she pulls it over her head.

  You raise the hood of...

  
  Continue Reading...
• 

  Harmless Old Woman Mugged by Templar by Thunkkin
  Added on Jul 25, 2011

  A harmless old woman, who was just minding her own business, is accosted by a Templar for something that was a *complete accident* and would never happen again (on purpose).

  ---

  Wehga:
  This withered old crone stoops with the weight of a harsh lifetime.
  Calloused, long-fingered hands and wobbly knees accompany a frame that is scrawny in the extreme. Dark spots and blotches pepper her nut-brown, leathery skin which has something of the texture of erdlu jerky. Lank locks of flint-grey hair hang limply from her head, framing a puckered, hollow face. A sharp chin and nose are offset by her sunken cheeks and completely toothless mouth. Alone of her features, the lively spark in her deep-set, pale blue eyes speaks of a certain keen alertness.
  The withered, leathery crone is in excellent condition.
  
  You are using:
  [worn in hair] a multicolored leather cord
  [worn in left ear] a dangling tooth earring
  [worn in right ear] a cloth-threaded ceramic earring
  [worn about throat] a crude jozhal-shaped pendant
  [worn across back] a red-dyed hide backpack
  [worn on torso] a ragged linen smock
  [worn on arms] a frayed lace shawl
  [worn around wrist] a bracelet of ceramic shards
  [secondary hand] a knotted agafari cane
  [worn as belt] a stained yellow linen sash
  [worn around body] a hooded rat-skin drape
  [worn on legs] a pair of patched sandcloth pants
  [worn on feet] a pair of half-rotted sandals
  
  
  Terrible, biting sand whips around you.
  Meleth's Circle [NESW]
  A human soldier of Tektolnes stands guard here.
  The short-haired, umber-hued man is standing here.
  A half-giant soldier of Tektolnes walks along here.
  A brown inix stands here, carrying the tall templar wearing a sheer, black silk face wrapping on his back.
  The burly, long-haired bouncer stands here, guarding the inn's entrance.
  An aged human beggar sits cross-legged against the wall of the inn here.
  
  As he saddles up on a brown inix, the tall templar wearing a sheer, black silk face wrapping looks down at you.
  
  The withered, leathery crone flinches.
  
  You think:
  "Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit."
  
  Dipping his head up and down in a simple nod, the short-haired, umber-hued man says to the tall templar wearing a sheer, black silk face wrapping, in southern-accented sirihish:
  "Yes, Lord Templar. The sands do not bother me as much as some. I grew up in Menos. Not so well protected from the sand as the Highlord's City."
  
  The tall templar wearing a sheer, black silk face wrapping winces behind the black silk covering his face, his imposing glare shifting towards the towering obsidian building to the northwest.
  
  [Hidden Emote] A faint mist seems to waft after the withered, leathery crone.
  
  [Wehga quickly walks a few blocks]
  
  Terrible, biting sand whips around you.
  Tradesmen's Street [NS]
  This street flanks the west side of the Merchants' Quarter, and is where most merchants from outside the city go to sell their goods. Oddly-decorated caravans and wagons are parked along the edge of the street, which bustles with activity, as traders carry their goods into the chaos of the Main Bazaar. Here and there, traders stop members of the passing crowd, trying to convince them of the miracle of Jathlir's Sand Tonic or the wonders of a trinket discovered half-buried in the desert sands. Tradesmens' Street extends as far north as one can see, and Meleth's Circle is directly to the south, the noise there growing even louder.
  A tall, spindly half-elf stands shouting the price of his wares.
  A one-eyed blue-faced dwarf squats next to a small mat laden with wares.
  
  The tall templar wearing a sheer, black silk face wrapping has arrived from the south, riding a brown inix.
  The half-giant soldier has arrived from the south.
  The short-haired, umber-hued man has arrived from the south.
  A human Allanaki soldier has arrived from the south.
  
  The short-haired, umber-hued man says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
  "Stop. Now."
  
  In a smooth motion, the tall templar wearing a sheer, black silk face wrapping draws a dragon-etched obsidian longsword out of a long, black leather sheath.
  
  The tall templar wearing a sheer, black silk face wrapping brandishes his dragon-etched obsidian longsword.
  
  The short-haired, umber-hued man begins guarding the north exit.
  
  The withered, leathery crone freezes, clutching her cane.
  
  Sliding his dragon-etched obsidian longsword to his side, the tall templar wearing a sheer, black silk face wrapping turns stiffly in a brown inix's saddle, watching the short-haired, umber-hued man from afar.
  
  Bobbing her head, you ask the short-haired, umber-hued man, in sirihish:
  "Ah, wha's th'problem?"
  
  The short-haired, umber-hued man moves to stand in the way of you, his large body taking up alot of room.
  
  The withered, leathery crone's eyes rake over the short-haired, umber-hued man, lingering over his crotch.
  
  His voice muffled, soft-spoken behind the black silk scarfing his head, the tall templar wearing a sheer, black silk face wrapping says, in southern-accented sirihish:
  "If she tries to run, pin her to the ground."
  
  With a grimace and a wave of his hand towards the tall templar wearing a sheer, black silk face wrapping, the short-haired, umber-hued man says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
  "I believe the Lord Templar wishes you to stop and talk with him now."
  
  With a simple nod towards the tall templar wearing a sheer, black silk face wrapping as he looks down at you, the short-haired, umber-hued man says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
  "Running would... not be smart."
  
  To the short-haired, umber-hued man as she gulps and turns toward the tall templar wearing a sheer, black silk face wrapping, you say, in sirihish:
  "Ah, 'ight sweetie. Ya can pin me any time, though."
  
  Lowering her head and bowing, you ask the tall templar wearing a sheer, black silk face wrapping, in sirihish:
  "Wha' may a 'umble old woman do fer ya, Lord Templah?"
  
  His voice emotionless, the tall templar wearing a sheer, black silk face wrapping says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
  "Sit down."
  
  The tall templar wearing a sheer, black silk face wrapping swings his legs over and jumps off of a brown inix.
  A brown inix curls up on the ground.
  
  Easing herself down, her joints popping and cracking loudly, you sit down.
  
  Approaching swiftly with a swish of his robes around his ankles, unlatching his leather waterskin, the tall templar wearing a sheer, black silk face wrapping
  
  asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
  "Want some water, wench? Hmm? Are you thirsty?"
  
  The tall templar wearing a sheer, black silk face wrapping stops using his leather waterskin.
  
  The withered, leathery crone glances out of the corner of her eyes at the tall templar wearing a sheer, black silk face wrapping.
  
  The tall templar wearing a sheer, black silk face wrapping kneels over a bit as he clenches his leather waterskin, lips twisting crookedly under his hooked moustache at you.
  
  Tugging the silk off slowly as he speaks, the skeletal, sharp-bearded templar stops using his sheer, black silk face wrapping.
  
  Stuffing it away, the skeletal, sharp-bearded templar puts his sheer, black silk face wrapping into his glossy, black leather swordbelt.
  
  Licking her lips, you say to the skeletal, sharp-bearded templar, in sirihish:
  "Ah, I wouldn't presume t'drink ya watah, Lord Templah."
  
  You feel nervous.
  
  Lifting his dragon-etched obsidian longsword's tip, pointed at your throat, the skeletal, sharp-bearded templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
  "And I wouldn't presume to drink yours...Vivaduan."
  
  You think:
  "Does he know? How can he know?"
  
  The skeletal, sharp-bearded templar's eyes widen as he glares down malevolently at you.
  
  Gasping, you ask, in sirihish:
  "Wha'? Me? A witch?"
  
  You think:
  "Fuck."
  
  You feel suddenly resigned.
  
  Placing his dragon-etched obsidian longsword's razor sharp obsidian blade closer to your neck, the skeletal, sharp-bearded templar asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
  "Do you deny it?"
  
  The short-haired, umber-hued man moves to stand behind you, one of his meaty fists clenching with an audible creak.
  
  With a rasping cackle, you say, in sirihish:
  "Eh... ah ... no, not as such, no. It, ah, just happened sudden-like, Lord Templah. All mah life, nevah happ'ed afore."
  
  Straightening her shoulders with a hint of pride, you say, in sirihish:
  "Outlived mah no-good husband and seven brats. Finally free o'them and I'm cursed wit' this all o'sudden. Like bein' preggers, but worse."
  
  Over the noise of the crowd, a tall, spindly half-elf shouts, in southern-accented sirihish:
  "Your lil' templar feeling a lil' wilted lately? Sand Tonic'll stiffen your wick, just 40 sid!"
  
  Snapping, the skeletal, sharp-bearded templar exclaims to a tall, spindly half-elf, in southern-accented sirihish:
  "Shut up!"
  
  The skeletal, sharp-bearded templar turns his dragon-etched obsidian longsword over towards a tall, spindly half-elf with a swoop away from you.
  
  The withered, leathery crone eyes the retreating blade with relief.
  
  Hopefully, you ask the skeletal, sharp-bearded templar, in sirihish:
  "I's just mindin' mah lil' business at home in th'rinth. Ain't botherin' nobody, eh?"
  
  Swinging his dragon-etched obsidian longsword over his shoulder to his long, black leather sheath, the skeletal, sharp-bearded templar asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
  "Nobody's bothered by your presence in the alleys?"
  
  The skeletal, sharp-bearded templar sheathes a dragon-etched obsidian longsword into a long, black leather sheath.
  
  Glancing around and licking her lips again, you say to the skeletal, sharp-bearded templar, in sirihish:
  "Well, nobody knows, like, eh? Just happened, like I said."
  
  Holding up her wrinkled hands, you say to the skeletal, sharp-bearded templar, in sirihish:
  "I ain't evah do it again on purpose, I promise."
  
  Shaking his head back and forth a few times with a deep sigh, the short-haired, umber-hued man says, in southern-accented sirihish:
  "It's what they all say, I bet. "
  
  Peering southwards down the street, the skeletal, sharp-bearded templar asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
  "So what were you doing down southside then?"
  
  As if it were obvious, you say, in sirihish:
  "Lookin' fer good stuff in th'trash."
  
  The blonde, beak-nosed young man has arrived from the south.
  
  With a frown, the short-haired, umber-hued man looks down at the blonde, beak-nosed young man.
  
  The blonde, beak-nosed young man edges around the crowd, looking on curiously.
  
  The withered, leathery crone coughs, the loose phlegm in her throat rattling.
  
  Grabbing his glossy, black leather swordbelt's buckle, giving it a twist around his waspish waist, the skeletal, sharp-bearded templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
  "You must wear the gem, or you are a rogue. You have two paths right now, child, and two paths only."
  
  The blonde, beak-nosed young man looks down at you.
  
  The withered, leathery crone's face puckers sourly.
  
  Pointing northwards with his crooked finger, the skeletal, sharp-bearded templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
  "Go there, and you will die, like your family. Like all others who have tried. Bear the gem of the Highlord, and you will serve a better purpose."
  
  Turning his glare from you, the skeletal, sharp-bearded templar looks at the blonde, beak-nosed young man.
  
  Pointing north, you say to the skeletal, sharp-bearded templar, in sirihish:
  "Eh, so, ah, ya'd let me go, eh? If'n I promise t'be good? Or, ah, does rogue mean ..."
  
  The skeletal, sharp-bearded templar turns his beady eyes back down to you.
  
  The withered, leathery crone draws a finger across her throat and makes a gurgling noise.
  
  Dipping his head once, lifting his spidery fingers to his medallion of Tektolnes, clenching it tightly as his other fist curls out rapidly in the stirring breeze, the skeletal, sharp-bearded templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
  "...it means game over. Lights out."
  
  The skeletal, sharp-bearded templar calls out the name of the Highlord.
  
  The skeletal, sharp-bearded templar utters an incantation.
  Your vision goes black.
  
  Someone lowers his fist from you, taking a step back.
  
  Someone moves swiftly to someone's side, weapons drawn.
  
  Someone watches with wide eyes.
  
  Someone bends down and quickly snatches up his knotted agafari cane with a deep frown.
  
  Someone nods once.
  
  Someone snatches you up off the ground harshly, and onto his shoulder.
  
  Someone glances toward someone, with a single, silent nod, you over his shoulder.
  
  The withered, leathery crone's mouth flops open, a not particularly pleasant smell wafting out.
  
  Someone walks along, carrying you on his shoulder.
  
  A thin thread of drool slowly extends from the withered, leathery crone's mouth.
  
  [Lots of walking]
  
  Someone drops you on the floor with a *thud*.
  
  The withered, leathery crone sprawls in a jumble of thin limbs and knobby knees and elbows.
  
  Someone kneels down near you and grimaces, turning his head slightly and bringing his small bone vial to your nose.
  
  Someone rests his hands on the hilts of his cross-etched obsidian longsword and his dusty bone hawkblade, watching quietly.
  
  A pungent odor fills your senses.
  
  The short-haired, umber-hued man closes his small bone vial.
  
  Small Room in the Barracks [S Quit Save]
  This appears to be a small room within the barracks of Vivadu's temple. Stout stone walls protect this room from the crime of the outside city, as does the stout wooden door that seals the chamber off. The walls have been painted a deep, calming blue, the principal color of Vivadu, and a small mural covers the northern wall.
  A thickly quilted bedroll is neatly rolled up near the cradle.
  A rocking, baobab cradle stands next to the head of the cot, blankets tucked inside.
  A brittle, crystalline flower rests on a small shelf.
  A pale, luminescent fungus sits on a small shelf.
  A bone sided chest sits at the foot of a padded cot here.
  A large wall closet is embedded in the westmost portion of the south wall.
  A sandstone carving of two lizards stands in the middle of the room, one of the lizards missing the tip of its tail.
  Covered with irregular splotches of red, an oversized, padded cot is tucked against the wall.
  Nestled into a corner near the chest is a small white-boned footlocker.
  A burned large, rough wooden barrel is tucked into one corner.
  The skeletal, sharp-bearded templar is standing here.
  The short-haired, umber-hued man is standing here.
  The tall figure in a dusty black, hooded militia dustcloak is standing here.
  
  The short-haired, umber-hued man pushes up from the ground and moves back towards the doorway, almost completely filling it with his body.
  
  Snorting and coughing, you exclaim, in sirihish:
  "Help! Help!"
  
  The withered, leathery crone blinks a few times, looking around.
  
  Features hidden within the shadows of his hood, the tall figure in a dusty black, hooded militia dustcloak silently watches you, standing rock-still in front of the door.
  
  Turning a blurry gaze toward the skeletal, sharp-bearded templar, you say, in sirihish:
  "Ah, I choose th'gem, Lord Templah ... ah ... "
  
  Holding it out and frowning down at you, the short-haired, umber-hued man gives his small bone vial to the skeletal, sharp-bearded templar.
  
  Wiping a trickle of snot from her nose, you say, in sirihish:
  "I's just a poor lil' old woman. Not meanin' harm."
  
  Eyeing you, the skeletal, sharp-bearded templar puts his small bone vial into his glossy, black leather swordbelt.
  
  Securing the leather strap, the skeletal, sharp-bearded templar hangs his leather waterskin on his belt.
  
  The withered, leathery crone rubs her shoulder, sitting in a heap on the floor.
  
  Pointing at the closed door, the skeletal, sharp-bearded templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
  "There are over fifty people in that intersection who would be over-joyed at the death of a magicker, rogue, or gemmer. It's all a matter of principle..."
  
  Gesturing his hand at a rocking, baobab cradle near a cot, the skeletal, sharp-bearded templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
  "...if I let you roam around the alleys ungemmed, then other rogues would do the same."
  
  Lifting his brows, the skeletal, sharp-bearded templar looks at a rocking, baobab cradle.
  
  The withered, leathery crone peers suspiciously at a rocking, baobab cradle.
  
  Sliding his beady dark brown eyes away from the cradle, lips twisted at one edge under his curly beard, the skeletal, sharp-bearded templar asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
  "How did you say your children died, again?"
  
  The tall figure in a dusty black, hooded militia dustcloak drums his claw-gloved fingers lightly on the hilt of his cross-etched obsidian longsword.
  
  With a shrug, you say to the skeletal, sharp-bearded templar, in sirihish:
  "Eh, well, Dmitro caught tha' spittle coughin' thing. Heaved up a lung, I tell ya. And then Elsia, she nevah came back when I sent her t'buy some wine fer mah husband ..."
  
  His eyes shifting momentarily, the tall figure in a dusty black, hooded militia dustcloak looks at the skeletal, sharp-bearded templar.
  
  Continuing in her raspy voice, you say to the skeletal, sharp-bearded templar, in sirihish:
  "And then o' course th' third one, nevah could remembah his name. He turned out bad, tha' one. Just buggered off one day. Think he joined th'Byn or somethin'."
  
  The tall figure in a dusty black, hooded militia dustcloak absently reaches up and brushes back his hood.
  
  The stocky, smokey-eyed man lowers the hood of a dusty black, hooded militia dustcloak.
  
  Approaching with swift steps, planting his feet softly on the ground as he stoops forwards, hands clasping behind his back, the skeletal, sharp-bearded templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
  "A tragedy. You will thank the Highlord this day, that you were not born in Tuluk."
  
  Cackling, you say to the skeletal, sharp-bearded templar, in sirihish:
  "And then Rodgy, he was allays a sickly child, ya know, Lord Templar? One day, just passed away in his sleep. And then Turva, she ..."
  
  Lifting his hand over your head, waving a hand to silence you, the skeletal, sharp-bearded templar asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
  "What is your name?"
  
  Pausing, you say to the skeletal, sharp-bearded templar, in sirihish:
  "Ah, right. Yah. I thank th'Highlord I warn't born in th'otha' place. Mah name's Wehga. Some's calls me Grandmother Wehga, but they ain't no brats o' mine. Least, not tha' I knows."
  
  [Hidden Emote] A sour smell drifts from the direction of the withered, leathery crone.
  
  Nodding softly, peering downwards, the skeletal, sharp-bearded templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
  "You may have a difficult time wandering around the alleys with a gem on."
  
  The skeletal, sharp-bearded templar frowns minorly at you as he rummages around in his thick, blue silk robes.
  
  The skeletal, sharp-bearded templar pulls a dull black gem out of a blue, hooded templar's robe.
  
  Wrinkling her nose, you say to the skeletal, sharp-bearded templar, in sirihish:
  "Eh, I don't think they'll be too keen on me on th' west side, Lord Templah."
  
  Suddenly catching sight of him and favoring him with a wide, toothless grin, you look up at the stocky, smokey-eyed man.
  
  Holding his dull black gem over, dangling from a dainty string, the skeletal, sharp-bearded templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
  "I was just about to say that."
  
  The skeletal, sharp-bearded templar gives you his dull black gem.
  
  With a sigh, you stop using your crude jozhal-shaped pendant.
  
  The stocky, smokey-eyed man gazes back toward you with emotionless eyes, simply watching.
  
  Holding up your dull black gem, you exclaim, in sirihish:
  "Well, tha's it fer me. Bettah'n dead, though, eh? I survive 'em all!"
  
  The short-haired, umber-hued man looks down at you with brooding, half-lidded eyes, a frown creasing his face deeply.
  
  With a touch of defiance as she slips it on, you tilt your head forward and fasten your dull black gem about your throat.
  
  Turning from a rocking, baobab cradle, glaring over it with his beady, eyes and hooked, aquiline nose turned down as he frowns, the skeletal, sharp-bearded
  
  templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
  "Well, at least now you know where to get your baby stock..."
  
  The skeletal, sharp-bearded templar turns for the southern door, nodding to the stocky, smokey-eyed man militantly.
  
  Scowling, you say to the skeletal, sharp-bearded templar, in sirihish:
  "Eh, don't want no more babies . Nothin' but trouble. Don't evah have 'im, Lord Templah."
  
  The skeletal, sharp-bearded templar opens the door.
  
  The withered, leathery crone pushes herself to her feet awkwardly.
  
  The skeletal, sharp-bearded templar walks south.
  The stocky, smokey-eyed man walks south.
  The short-haired, umber-hued man walks south.
  
  You suffer from use of the Way.
  You contact the short-haired, umber-hued man with the Way.
  
  You suffer from use of the Way.
  You send a telepathic message to the short-haired, umber-hued man:
  "Ya steal mah feckin' cane? Wha's this city comin' to?"
  
  You dissolve the psychic link.

  Wehga:
  This withered old crone stoops with the weight of a harsh lifetime.
  Calloused, long-fingered hands and wobbly knees accompany a frame that is scrawny in the extreme. Dark spots and blotches pepper her nut-brown, leathery skin which has something of the texture of erdlu jerky. Lank locks of...
  Continue Reading...
• 

  Roleplaying a Nomad by Cutthroat
  Added on Jun 19, 2011

  Tips on roleplaying a character with the 'nomad' subguild, and being from a virtual tribe.

  ---

  Roleplaying a Nomad
  
  These are some handy suggestions for people who wish to play a character with a nomadic background. There is never one right way to roleplay something, but these are my observations, after watching players who I thought did it well.
  
  This is done in a similar style to the subguild guides on the main site, and hopefully there will be others. The three original ones are:
  http://www.armageddon.org/rp/subguilds/hunter.html
  http://www.armageddon.org/rp/subguilds/linguist.html
  http://www.armageddon.org/rp/subguilds/physician.html
  
  Enjoy.
  
  What is a nomad?
  Nomads, usually originating in the tablelands around Luir's Outpost, speak their own native tongue, Bendune, and are adept at shrewd bartering in the desert markets. If you are playing a character with a nomadic background, you must pick this subclass.
  
  We see a few main points from this description of your average nomad. We see:
  
  - their usual origin (around Luir's)
  - they speak bendune
  - they have some skill with trading
  
  Other than the origin of the nomad, that's not much. Luckily, this allows us to get quite creative when we design a nomad for play.
  
  Designing a nomad concept
  
  All of the coded tribes have their own unique traits. Take a look at any tribe documentation available on the site and you will see traditions, a general like/dislike for certain things, superstitions, tribal tattoos, and many other things. To list some publicly available examples, the Jul Tavan documents dictate an intolerance for magickers, while Benjari documentation describes the importance of keeping a dagger handy.
  
  As a subguild_nomad, you will likely be playing a representative of a virtual tribe. Designing virtual tribe documentation for your own character is a good way to define where your character is coming from, and where characters related to you might be, if only for yourself or for a biography entry. Here are some aspects you can try to include into your "virtual tribe documentation":
  
  Basics
     What is the name of your tribe?
     What is the race of your tribe?
     Where is camp? Does it move around, and if so, where?
     How large is the tribe?
     How old is the tribe?
     What are the tribe's main sources of income?
  
  Physical appearances
     Hair/eye/skin colors
        Is there a usual set of colors for your tribe?
        Do certain colors imply unseen characteristics (cowardice, leadership, etc.)?
     Body features
        Shapes of ears, noses, lips, etc.
     Tattoos
     Scarification
     Height/weight
  
  Weapons, Armor, and Clothing
     Weapons - Are certain types used? Certain weapon styles?
     Armor - What materials are used in your tribe's armor, how is it worn, and who wears it?
     Clothing - What materials are used in your tribe's clothing, how is it worn, and who wears it?
     Jewelry - Do tribe members wear certain types of jewelry, or of certain materials? How about piercings? Do they differ amongst various members of the tribe?
     Trading - Would your tribe trade these weapons/armor/clothing/jewelry away, or is it for the tribe only? Are certain items reserved for the tribe and not others?
  
  Traditions
     Organization - How does the tribe break down with regards to responsibilities?
     Age - when is a member of the tribe an adult, and what do they do to get to that status, if anything?
     Gatherings - are there gatherings in the tribe that happen on a regular basis? Why?
     Families - If there was only one family in the tribe, everyone would be inbred. How many families are there, how are they distinct?
     Elders - How are elders viewed and what are their responsibilities? How are they chosen?
     Mating - Are there permanent mated relationships? Is there an elaborate process through which mating 'rights' are secured?
     Spirituality - Does your tribe worship anything? Do they have an enduring set of myths or gods? Do they believe in spirits?
     Burials - How does your tribe handle the last rites of its dead and how are the bodies disposed of?
  
  Philosophy
     Object related - do certain objects, or certain types of objects, hold any importance?
     Magickers - Is magick tolerated? Which elements, if so? How about sorcery?
     Water - Water is extremely important in Zalanthas, and especially to tribes. What does your tribe do specially with it?
     Spice - Is spice good or bad? Which types are preferred?
     Views of Outsiders
        City-slickers - How does the tribe view city folk?
        Sand talkers - How does the tribe view other tribes?
     Sayings - Are there special words or phrases to describe things?
     Half-elves - If your tribe is human or elven, what does it think of half-elves in the tribe?
     Punishment - How would your tribal culture handle punishment for misdeeds?
     Xenophobia - How open is your tribe's camp? Would they allow outsiders to enter for trade or cut them down on the spot?
  
  Example of a defined tribe
  
  The Araseik-Betvan (don't use this name; it is a horrible portmanteau) are a tribe of humans hailing from the center of the salt flats.
  
  Most A-Bs are rugged looking, with dark hair, eyes, and skin. Their lifestyle lends a powerful frame to most Betvans and physically handicapped Betvans are often used as bait for hunting. Those born with lighter features are often considered softer and thus less able to deal with life on the flats, and while they are held to the same standards as everyone else, they will often receive less help.
  
  A-B hunters hunt the salt worms and scrabs they come across, using the hides and shells they get for armor, while using the salt worm teeth to create sharp weapons for hunting. They wear necklaces made out of salt worm teeth, and string one salt worm tooth onto the necklace every time they age. A-B gatherers gather salt from the ground, and bring it to Allanak to trade it to House Jal for water, which the gatherers bring back to the tribe. Gatherers are marked with a tattoo of a lump of purple salt on the back of their primary hand, and often wear light sandcloth gear to aid in their work. At the beginning of every year, the hunters gather together for the Great Mekillot Hunt. A tribe member uses something made of mekillot hide or bone often earns that right by leading hunts.
  
  A-B tribals are split into two main families - the Araseik family and the Betvan. There are other smaller families which support one family or the other. Most hunters come from the Araseik and their supporters while the gatherers come from the Betvan and their supporters. Each family has a matriarch and a patriarch, and the biggest family's elders reside over the entirety of the tribe. A-B always carry a piece of glittering salt with them, as an identifier for other tribes in the area. Water is rationed by the Betvan fairly to each tribe member, and sharing of water isn't allowed. Spice is allowed for hunters, but not for gatherers - while the spices help hunters, the gatherers might take it into Allanak accidentally while bringing their salt in to trade for water.
  
  A-B maintains a professional trade relationship with Allanak, but to mingle with Allanakis or other city people in any other way (friendly, sexual) is unthinkable. The result of the union between an A-B and a city person is always killed at birth. New blood is always needed for the tribe however, and A-B are often encouraged to seek out the members of nearby tribes for mating purposes. Magickers are partially tolerated - Vivaduans and Drovians bring much needed relief to the gatherers, and their existence in the tribe is allowed. Other elements are not tolerated, and members found to be learning sorcery are always killed.
  
  Bendune and tribal speech
  
  The helpfile on bendune has this to say about the nomadic tongue:
  
  "The language of the nomadic tribes of the Known World is called Bendune. It bears some resemblance to the elven speech, and even more to the language known as Cavilish. The real history of linguistic development is most likely that the tribal tongues became united at Gol Krathu, several Ages before the arrival of the Dragon, into a more primitive form of Bendune. It was not until many years later that the elven and Cavilish tongues were certain to have existed.
  
  While most contemporary desert tribes are composed of refugees from the city-states or of elven nomads, the Allundean and Sirihish languages are far more common in the wilderness than they once were. On the fringes of the Known World, however, most still speak Bendune, particularly the Tan Muark, who claim it their own invention."
  
  Keeping this in mind, we can derive a few interesting facts about how bendune might be used among virtual tribes, such as your own if you create a subguild_nomad character. If your tribe is further away from the cities, heavy use of bendune (and an unpracticed sirihish) are more likely, while if your tribe is closer, your sirihish would be better. Also keep in mind how your tribe would use sirihish or bendune. If sirihish was mainly being used as a trade language, to speak with city-folk about your tribe's goods and pricing, it is probably not likely that you will be able to understand complex poetry being recited in sirihish. Figure out what makes sense for your character and run with it.
  
  In the real world, speaking a broken language is not equivalent to leaving off syllables of words. Oftentimes when broken language is spoken in real life there are a few key ways that it is broken:
  - Verb confusion. In English we say "let's have a party" if we want to have a party. However, some foreign speakers understand the verb "to have" solely as possessing something, so "having" a party in that regard doesn't make much sense. Instead they might say "do a party" or "make a party", which isn't entirely correct in English and its complexity. Feel free to confuse verbs like have/make or other similar verbs in-game.
  - Looking for the right word. Even native speakers of a language will pause to think of a proper word to describe something complex. This difficulty is compounded on foreign speakers with a smaller vocabulary of the language. Pause to think of a word that's complex to your PC... maybe the native sirihish speaker you're talking to will think of it for you.
  - Unique nouns. Maybe your tribe calls goudra "brown-furs". Maybe your tribe does this and knows what city people call them, or maybe it doesn't... either way, it can provide another challenge in the language barrier that should be there.

  Roleplaying a Nomad
  
  These

  are some handy suggestions for people who wish to play a character with

  a nomadic background. There is never one right way to roleplay

  something, but these are my observations, after watching players who I

  thought did it well.
  
  This is done in a similar style to...
  Continue Reading...

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  Al Seik men upon sunbacks by Rakeart
  Added on Jun 19, 2011

  The twins Nobody and Hawk venture through the sandy wastes towards the salt flats after getting in trouble with the tribe and being sent on a vision trial.

  
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  Rest Couch Watch Door by Nehoc
  Added on May 12, 2011

  What a person sees while resting on a couch and watching a door to no place in particular.

  
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  Rinth Rat by Briar
  Added on Apr 18, 2011

  A young girl's flesh tells a dark, twisting story of sadistic romance.