Original Submissions by Bebop
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Double Circle Darkness
Added on Jul 11, 2012A 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 itWhen 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...An Interrogation Gone Wrong - Part One
Added on Jul 28, 2009Buckle Irofel was an exiled Bard of the Poet's Circle and failed Byn Sergeant always teetering on the balance of being overtaken by depression of losing of her son and mate rumored to be magickers (a dispicable offense in the Circle) after they disappeared in Tuluk, This log is the first part recounting how she met her end as her life and sanity were unraveled - forced for over a year to leave her life as an upstanding Irofel Bard in shame and live the life of a rough neck southron.
The Arena Floor [NESW]
You are on the west side of the Arena, between the First and Third Chradens. The screams and cheers emanating from the stands above you further add to the deadly and decadent mood. The Arena floor is made up of sand and rocks, as if built directly over the desert that once lay here,and chitin spikes poke through the ground in various places, threatening those who are more wary of their opponent than themselves. The Arena continues to the east, and a giant iron gate lies to yourwest, firmly shut, trapping you inside for the spectators' amusement.
A carved, duskhorn bracer lies here.
The body of a human cut-throat lies crumpled here.
A few bodies of the gith gladiator are here.
A couple of bloodied bone longswords are here.
A bone longsword lies here.
A chitinous dagger with a forked blade is lying here.
A bone parrying dagger is here is here protruding from the sand, next to two interlocking circles drawn there.
A bloodied hooked knife made of chitin has been left here.
A mullish gladiator is here, fighting you.
You viciously bludgeon a mullish gladiator on his head.
A mullish gladiator's eyes roll back in his head.
A mullish gladiator crumples to the ground.
Screaming in rage, you shout in sirihish:"Yaaaaah!"
kill gladiator
You do unspeakable damage to a mullish gladiator's head with your bludgeon.
As the ending approaches, Buckle's mind wanders to her own failures to the lost life of her son and bond-mate rumored to be magickers and even more recent occurances of bitter rejection:
The stout, bald young man sends you a telepathic message:
"What're you doin' now?"
118/129/117barrier
You suffer from use of the Way.You build a psychic barrier around your mind.
118/129/105look
A Tiled Plaza [ESW]Gritty underfoot, the ground is covered with tiny, dusty tiles set in swirling patterns of crimson, purple and blue, sunlight glinting up off them in eye-dazzling flashes of brightness. A few street artists and peddlers have staked out small areas, from whose centers they harangue and implore the passersby for attention and the odd coin they can coax forth.
To the east, a two-story, pillared building of white clay brick, its western wall covered with an enormous mosaic, borders the edge of the gardens.
A blue canvas tent sits among the crowds.
A rosy-cheeked, blue-eyed youth ambles through the crowds.
A multi-braided, white-haired man claps out a steady rhythm as he sings.
A multi-braided, white-haired man finishes his song to a round of applause, smiling at the crowd.
A multi-braided, white-haired man's glance falls upon you, and a grimace of distaste replaces his merry expression.
The robust, cerulean-eyed woman approaches a multi-braided, white-haired man swallowing hard.
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
A multi-braided, white-haired man sighs, setting aside his instrument and fishing a flask out of his beltpouch.
Bowing her head, nostrils flaring, you say to a multi-braided, white-haired man, in sirihish:
"As disatisfied as I am, my respect for you forbids me from interrupting you Masterbard."
A multi-braided, white-haired man sips from his leather-wrapped glass flask.
A multi-braided, white-haired man gestures with his leather-wrapped glass flask for you to continue.
Self consciously letting the volume of her words drop, you whisper to a multi-braided, white-haired man in sirihish:
"Why do refuse me Master Irofel?"
You feel a rush of emotion in the form of rage and pain.
You feel a struggle to contain wits and composure.
Cuttingly, his hard gaze boring into you, a multi-braided, white-haired man says to you, in sirihish:
"You abandoned your Circle and your family. You've done nothing to earn the right to be a Bard."
You whisper to a multi-braided, white-haired man in sirihish:
"I -left- in an effort to cure the afflicting words plauging the deceased of our own Circle!"
Pleadingly, you whisper to a multi-braided, white-haired man in sirihish:
"Please... Masterbard, what must I do?"
A flush rising to his cheeks, a multi-braided, white-haired man says to you, in sirihish:
"A slap in our face, disrespectful to your bond mate and the rest of your family. Buckle, I don't wish to discuss this any more with any body."
A multi-braided, white-haired man takes a long swig from his leather-wrapped glass flask.
A multi-braided, white-haired man drinks jik from his leather-wrapped glass flask.
Her voice breaking coarsely, you say to a multi-braided, white-haired man, in sirihish:
"No... "
You say to a multi-braided, white-haired man, in sirihish:
"There must be something I can do... you must have heard the story I shared with the Faithful Lady."
Hopefully, you whisper to a multi-braided, white-haired man in sirihish:
"Surely you must have heard of the abomination that I dispatched... the one that abducted Toby and Still."
Starting to his feet, his outburst drawing plenty of stairs, a multi-braided, white-haired man exclaims to you, in sirihish:
"Stop it! Stop talking about what's dead and buried and burned! Get out of my face!"
Savagely, flinging his leather-wrapped glass flask down to shatter into a thousand pieces on the ground, a multi-braided, white-haired man exclaims to you, in sirihish:
"Scatter like the ashes of your former life! You're dead to me! Dead dead dead!"
You exclaim to a multi-braided, white-haired man, in sirihish:
"No!"
Stepping forward, you exclaim to a multi-braided, white-haired man, in sirihish:
"No!"
With a crash, a multi-braided, white-haired man discards his leather-wrapped glass flask.
Finally unable to contain the volume of her own words, you exclaim to a multi-braided, white-haired man, in sirihish:
"No! For eighteen years I have worked, you can not take this away from me!"
Voice breaking again, water swelling in her eyes, you exclaim to a multi-braided, white-haired man, in sirihish:
"I am an Irofel!"
Lifting a hand and sending a vicious slap towards the side of your face, a multi-braided, white-haired man says to you, in sirihish:
"Like hell I can't! Don't come near me."
Her face flying to the side the robust, cerulean-eyed woman cringes eyes reddened.
With a flurry of sandcloth and silk and linen, a multi-braided, white-haired man storms away from the gathered crowd, his jaw clenched, hair whipped by the wind.
Reaching up with a shaky hand to touch her face, you say to a multi-braided, white-haired man, in sirihish:
"And I thought it was the southrons that turned on their own."
Without a backward glance, a multi-braided, white-haired man walks east.
You shout in sirihish:
"And I thought it was the southrons who were barbarians!"
Ignoring the muttering of people around her the robust, cerulean-eyed woman is unable to contain her tears, choking into a sob as she starts away.
You think:
"What what... can I do..."
You think:
"I hate this city... I hate this Circle."
That had been only a week ago. Buckle's rage at losing her child, mate and her career to be forced to live her life as a southron was taking it's toll. And now only a week after Yione's outburst she would be abducted not by the northern templars as she always feared but a templar of the south.
The diminutive, cerulean-eyed man sends you a telepathic message:"*curiosity peaking* Ummhmm... maybe he's trying to convince you to join the Arm... until he realises you're not a citizen of the city, heh."
Her brows still furrowed together as she strolls down by his side, the delicate, ebon-haired woman looks at you, her smile more absent minded.
The orderly, fair-skinned templar makes a turn off the crowded road and winds through the dark of the alley, shadows of the buildings and the surrounding giants looming large.In crisp, measured strides, the orderly, fair-skinned templar walks south.
The half-giant soldier walks south.
The half-giant soldier walks south.
You follow the orderly, fair-skinned templar, and walk south.
A Small Empty Room [N Quit]
The stone walls of this room have been painted a dull white which has already begun to peel and crack from the heat of the sun to reveal grey stone underneath it. There is a small wooden door to the north, which appears to be the only exit.
The orderly, fair-skinned templar is standing here.
A half-giant soldier of Tektolnes walks along here.
A half-giant soldier of Tektolnes walks along here.
The delicate, ebon-haired woman has arrived from the north.
The rounded, dark-eyed woman has arrived from the north.
A human Allanaki soldier has arrived from the north.
You think:
"Hey I've had sex in here."
The orderly, fair-skinned templar makes a small gesture behind himself at the door.A human Allanaki soldier closes the door.
Stepping in with the orderly, fair-skinned templar, the rounded, dark-eyed woman squints an eye right down and looks over the building slowly, apparently looking for threats before glancing over a shoulder to a human Allanaki soldier.
The delicate, ebon-haired woman takes a small step back to stand behind the orderly, fair-skinned templar.
You think:
"Well... this is strange."
You feel slightly apprehensive.
The delicate, ebon-haired woman glances once to the closed door and then turns to study the room.
The orderly, fair-skinned templar clasps his hands behind himself and turns around,
facing you with a rather narrow expression painted on his face.
The robust, cerulean-eyed woman clasps her hands behind herself, glancing between the group uncertainly.
The rounded, dark-eyed woman glances at the orderly, fair-skinned templar's expression, then sidelong to where she stands beside you and 'discreetly' side-steps to the right twice with an uncertain expression.
The orderly, fair-skinned templar tilts his head slowly, toward the delicate, ebon-haired woman.
The delicate, ebon-haired woman stares at the rounded, dark-eyed woman for a moment and then glances up to look at the orderly, fair-skinned templar.
In a low, gravelly rasp, the orderly, fair-skinned templar whispers something to the delicate, ebon-haired woman.
The delicate, ebon-haired woman snaps her attention to you after she jerks a nod to the orderly, fair-skinned templar.
Her hand clasped behind her back the robust, cerulean-eyed woman drums her fingertips against her fist, still looking uncertain.
The diminutive, cerulean-eyed man sends you a telepathic message:
"*with some measure of concern* You alright then, Bucks?"
You contact the diminutive, cerulean-eyed man with the Way.
The rounded, dark-eyed woman looks from the delicate, ebon-haired woman, then back to you, her brows slightly knit together while standing off to attention, her used grey kank shell shield on her hip.
You send a telepathic message to the diminutive, cerulean-eyed man:
"I'm really not sure, what's going on here. I'm in a room with like... a Templar and five soldiers, I doubt its good."
Uncertainty fading from her expression into a polite, bland mask, the delicate, ebon-haired woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Good day, Buckle. Your skills are pretty known, therefore, we are quite curious to your capabilities, especially on the point of wisdom."
Her smile is faint, the delicate, ebon-haired woman asks you, in sirihish:"How long do you think you need to figure out why you are here with us?"
118/124/107118/124/107
You suffer from use of the Way.
118/124/107118/124/107
The rounded, dark-eyed woman's left brow perks a touch higher then the right as her attention returns to the delicate, ebon-haired woman.
With a wan smile, you say to the delicate, ebon-haired woman, in sirihish:"Until the reason is revealed to me I suppose, ma'am."
The orderly, fair-skinned templar perks his brows a little, and unclasps his hands.
The diminutive, cerulean-eyed man sends you a telepathic message:
"*somewhat alarmed* ...right. Krath, sounds like bad business. Let me know if there's ah, anything I can do to help..."
Returning you smile, the delicate, ebon-haired woman says to you, in sirihish:
"That won't be much of a test then. Please, do try to be amusing. Have a guess. I'm sure you will arrive to the point. Eventually."
With a low sigh, the orderly, fair-skinned templar straightens up and starts to brush his palms off on his blue, hooded templar's robe.
The delicate, ebon-haired woman says to you, in sirihish:
"If not... I'm sure there are also ways to improve your memories."
You send a telepathic message to the diminutive, cerulean-eyed man:
"Do me a favor, if I don't make it out of this room. See that someone breaks Ado's neck. If this has anything to do with him... "
You ask the delicate, ebon-haired woman, in sirihish:
"I don't find this amusing at all - does it have something to do with Ado?"
Gesturing with a swish of her gloved hand, the delicate, ebon-haired woman says, in sirihish:
"It is just as well, for it is not for your amusement, Buckle. Guess more, please."
The rounded, dark-eyed woman sniffs and lifts her free hand to scratch at the bridge of her nose before looking between you and the delicate, ebon-haired woman again and finally dips a hand inside her black belt.
Sparing a bored look and a glance aside at the rounded, dark-eyed woman, the orderly, fair-skinned templar reaches past the trim of his blue, hooded templar's robe and along his waistline.
The orderly, fair-skinned templar draws a narrow-hilted, jaded khopesh blade.
A hand clasped around her wrist, you say to the delicate, ebon-haired woman, in sirihish:
"That's really all I can assume, ma'am."
The diminutive, cerulean-eyed man sends you a telepathic message:
"Hmm, if it comes down to that, then I'll see if I can't arrange for something yeah?
Asides, optimism will get you most places, I've heard."
You send a telepathic message to the diminutive, cerulean-eyed man:
"This doesn't look particularly optimistic, Kinrad."
Dimpling into another smile for you, the delicate, ebon-haired woman says to you, in sirihish:
"I'm sure if you think back on it, more will come to you, Buckle."
The orderly, fair-skinned templar silver gleams from the pommel of his narrow-hilted, jaded khopesh blade as his fingers curl loosely around it, and he begins to inspect the edge.
The rounded, dark-eyed woman gets her katar punch dagger from her leather knife belt.
You think:
"Well shit, I've commited more than one crime."
Her smile faltering a hair as she glances back to the orderly, fair-skinned templar, the delicate, ebon-haired woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Preferably, before my Lord Templar tires of this game. It is not very amusing after all."
You think:
"I always thought it would be the northern templars though."
You say to the delicate, ebon-haired woman, in sirihish:
"I thought we already decided that."
The diminutive, cerulean-eyed man sends you a telepathic message:
"...not the dungeons, I hope?"
You send a telepathic message to the diminutive, cerulean-eyed man:
"Worse."
The robust, cerulean-eyed woman glances to a human Allanaki soldier, poking her tongue into her cheek.
You think:
"At the least... I won't play their game."
Simply, in an aside to you, the rounded, dark-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Buckle, ya a half decent gal an' good at ya job, but if ya hiddin' somethin', I figure speakin' up 'fore the Lord Templar does t'be in ya best interest 'ere."
The rounded, dark-eyed woman spares a glance up to the half-giant soldier, then back to you.
The orderly, fair-skinned templar carefully smooths his narrow-hilted, jaded khopesh blade over the silken fabric of his blue, hooded templar's robe and then starts to lower it to his side.
With a nod to you and suggesting helpfully, the delicate, ebon-haired woman says to you, in sirihish:
"If I may make a suggestion, too, Buckle? Think harder. Here's a little hint : it concerns your dealings with someone you shouldn't deal with."
The rounded, dark-eyed woman shoots a curious eye back to the delicate, ebon-haired woman now while her hand absently wraps and unwraps around her katar punch dagger.
You say to the delicate, ebon-haired woman, in sirihish:
"All of my dealings for the past year have been in the Byn, and in the week I have been dismissed from their services, I haven't dealed with anyone."
The orderly, fair-skinned templar raises his free hand and opens the palm, tipping it toward the half-giant soldier with a nod.
The orderly, fair-skinned templar gives the half-giant soldier an order.
The half-giant soldier subdues you.
You send a telepathic message to the diminutive, cerulean-eyed man:
"Shit... "
The delicate, ebon-haired woman asks you, in sirihish:
"When you left Byn, two of your friends have left with you, is that not so?"
The diminutive, cerulean-eyed man sends you a telepathic message:
"*clearly alarmed* What?!"
The robust, cerulean-eyed woman blinks, as the half-giant soldier's grabs her, arms contorting.
You send a telepathic message to the diminutive, cerulean-eyed man:
"This giant... I don't know what they want with me, they've grabbed me."
The rounded, dark-eyed woman brandishes her katar punch dagger.
The diminutive, cerulean-eyed man sends you a telepathic message:
"The fuck... did the Lord Templar even say anything?"
Raising her brow, you say to the delicate, ebon-haired woman, in sirihish:
"Rannick left... that's the only one I know of."
You send a telepathic message to the diminutive, cerulean-eyed man:
"I have no idea what the fuck they're doing. Shit."
The diminutive, cerulean-eyed man sends you a telepathic message:
"I know the Lord Templar's a silent one... but still... I didn't know Ado had -that- much of an influence."
The orderly, fair-skinned templar takes a slow step forward, and thus begins his approach to you and the half-giant soldier.
Breathing a little sigh, the delicate, ebon-haired woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Buckle, you are not very forthcoming here."
Glancing to the orderly, fair-skinned templar, you say to the delicate, ebon-haired woman, in sirihish:
"That's because I don't have any idea what you're talking about."
You say to the delicate, ebon-haired woman, in sirihish:
"No one left with me."
You say to the delicate, ebon-haired woman, in sirihish:
"I left on my own, and went to the mantis valley to be alone, I've only returned late last week."
Frowning as she shifts her weight, you say to the delicate, ebon-haired woman, in sirihish:
"I don't know that anyone left other than Rannick, though I wouldn't blame them all for leaving."
Remaining a step behind the orderly, fair-skinned templar, the delicate, ebon-haired woman says to you, in sirihish:
"If you really need another reminder... Yulia."
You send a telepathic message to the diminutive, cerulean-eyed man:
"I have no idea, they're accusing me of some sort of dealings, I ... don't know what they're talking about."
The orderly, fair-skinned templar simply raises his narrow-hilted, jaded khopesh blade from his side and levels the edge out so that the flat is pressed to your throat.
The robust, cerulean-eyed woman furrows her brow staring up at the orderly, fair-skinned templar.
Softly, in a respectful tone to him, the rounded, dark-eyed woman asks the orderly, fair-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"If you wish to use that, might I suggest my hand in order to avoid the blood on yer boots, my Lord Templar?"
Directing her attention towards him, you say to the orderly, fair-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"Yulia was turned over to House Oash."
The diminutive, cerulean-eyed man sends you a telepathic message:
"...Drov, offer a bribe eh? Or something. I guess Ado must've paid off quite a few folks..."
You say to the orderly, fair-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"I tried to turn her into Sergeant Zoan, but he wasn't available."
The orderly, fair-skinned templar furrows his own brow a little, glances down at his boot, and then retracts his narrow-hilted, jaded khopesh blade.
You say to the orderly, fair-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"Edom said that the Lord Heir wanted her."
Glancing down at her white attire, the delicate, ebon-haired woman says to you, in sirihish:
"We are aware, Buckle. She is just one of the reminder."
The orderly, fair-skinned templar glances aside at the rounded, dark-eyed woman, and nods his head crisply, taking a step back.
Glancing back to her, you say to the delicate, ebon-haired woman, in sirihish:
"Stop being cryptic, I don't know what it is that you want with me. I've commited no crime."
You think:
"At least not anyones worse than smoking a little spice."
You think:
"And killing that guy over a sheath."
You think:
"And stealing."
You think:
"But... I don't think anyone found out about those.... "
Taking a couple steps forward, the rounded, dark-eyed woman draws back up to you side and places the point of her katar punch dagger under your jaw, just below your ear against a prime vein.
You think:
"And they weren't really bad anyway."
Smearing her lips together the robust, cerulean-eyed woman frowns down at the rounded, dark-eyed woman.
Brushing up to her tiptoes, the delicate, ebon-haired woman whispers something to the orderly, fair-skinned templar.
The delicate, ebon-haired woman whispers something to the orderly, fair-skinned templar.
Sighing softly to you, the rounded, dark-eyed woman asks you, in sirihish:
"Sorry gal. Got work jus' like anyone else, mm? How be ya speak up an maybe the Lord Templar asks me -not- to put this in there?"
You say, in sirihish:
"The Templarate had my full cooperation, I turned Yulia over to whom I thought could handle her appropriately."
The orderly, fair-skinned templar nods his head slowly, and reaches to tuck his narrow-hilted, jaded khopesh blade at his hip.
Grunting, you say to the rounded, dark-eyed woman, in sirihish:
"If I knew what she was talking about trust me, oh trust me - I -would-."
The orderly, fair-skinned templar sheathes a narrow-hilted, jaded khopesh blade.
Shifting her arms irritably under the half-giant soldier's grip, you say, in sirihish:
"Its not exactly like I have some alliegances to protect here."
The orderly, fair-skinned templar unslings an obsidian-headed, jade-emblazoned mace from his back.
The rounded, dark-eyed woman looks back to the delicate, ebon-haired woman with your words and perks a brow curiously once more, waiting.
Lowering herself to the floor, one hand still planted on her rounded tummy, cheerfully, the delicate, ebon-haired woman says to you, in sirihish:
"If you need help, try start from why Yulia is turned over to House Oash."
Raising her voice, you exclaim, in sirihish:
"This doesn't make any sense, I have no reason to lie!"
You say to the delicate, ebon-haired woman, in sirihish:
"Yulia is - was the Trooper of Sergeant Kul."
The orderly, fair-skinned templar taps the toe of his boot, looking more and more bored as his fingers drum on his obsidian-headed, jade-emblazoned mace.
You say to the delicate, ebon-haired woman, in sirihish:
"She was turned over to Oash because she had gone insane. Any other details should be taken up with him, I'm not a Bynner, and she wasn ever my burden to deal with."
You say to the delicate, ebon-haired woman, in sirihish:
"I'm a mercenary, I don't deal with crazy bitches, I kick them out and turn them over to the proper authorities, which is what I did."
The interrogation continues with Buckle being able to offer in her confusion only minimal explanation. Edited for some mildly IC sensitive information.
The orderly, fair-skinned templar holds his obsidian-headed, jade-emblazoned mace out in front of himself and then draws it back over a shoulder to take a slow practice swing.
You say to the delicate, ebon-haired woman, in sirihish:
"I don't know, she'd just lost it. She never left the Compound, she was paranoid and nuts."
The delicate, ebon-haired woman carefully tugs off one of her gloves from her hand.
Her regard remaining wide lashed upon you, the delicate, ebon-haired woman says to you, in sirihish:
"We are not going anywhere with this, Buckle."
The orderly, fair-skinned templar pivots and circles around to your side, levelling his obsidian-headed, jade-emblazoned mace out and steadying it in the same manner just before his last swing.
In a harsh, gravelly rasp, the orderly, fair-skinned templar says, in sirihish:
"Last. Chance."
You say to the delicate, ebon-haired woman, in sirihish:
"I don't know -what- you want from me. But let's put it this way. I want to live, you want information. This would go a lot better for both of us if I knew what you wanted."
Grunting lightly, the rounded, dark-eyed woman withdraws a step from you with the lift of the mace and slips her katar punch dagger into her belt.
You can't maintain your contact...You deftly block the orderly, fair-skinned templar's attack.
You're now wanted!
The orderly, fair-skinned templar swiftly dodges your hit.
You struggle in vain against the half-giant soldier.
The half-giant soldier swipes futilely at the air.
The orderly, fair-skinned templar swiftly dodges your hit.
open door n
fleeThe orderly, fair-skinned templar swiftly dodges your hit.
118/119/110draw hammer
You hit the orderly, fair-skinned templar, barely grazing his waist.
The orderly, fair-skinned templar swiftly dodges your hit.
You are held tight, and unable to do anything.
You struggle in vain against the half-giant soldier.
The orderly, fair-skinned templar grunts.
You deftly block the orderly, fair-skinned templar's attack.
The orderly, fair-skinned templar swiftly dodges your hit.
The rounded, dark-eyed woman unslings an obsidian-headed polished-bone mace from her back.
The orderly, fair-skinned templar swiftly dodges your hit.
Your blow bounces off the orderly, fair-skinned templar's tough skin.
The rounded, dark-eyed woman says, in sirihish:
"Shit.."
You deftly block the orderly, fair-skinned templar's attack.
The orderly, fair-skinned templar swiftly dodges your hit.
You lash out and slice the orderly, fair-skinned templar with a pair of anakore-claw gloves.
The rounded, dark-eyed woman joins the orderly, fair-skinned templar's fight!
You are held tight, and unable to do anything.
You struggle in vain against the half-giant soldier.
The orderly, fair-skinned templar swiftly dodges your hit.
The orderly, fair-skinned templar gives the half-giant soldier an order.
You deftly block the half-giant soldier's attack.
You deftly block the half-giant soldier's attack.
You deftly block the orderly, fair-skinned templar's attack.
You struggle in vain against the half-giant soldier.
The half-giant soldier swipes futilely at the air.
You deftly block the rounded, dark-eyed woman's attack.
The orderly, fair-skinned templar swiftly dodges your hit.
The orderly, fair-skinned templar gives the half-giant soldier an order.
Dark eyes regarding you blandly, the delicate, ebon-haired woman says to you, in sirihish:
"We all want to live. But you are not cooperative."
You lash out and slice the orderly, fair-skinned templar with a pair of anakore-claw gloves.
The orderly, fair-skinned templar looks up at the half-giant soldier.
You struggle against the half-giant soldier and break free.
The orderly, fair-skinned templar swiftly dodges your hit.
The half-giant soldier unslings a dusty heavy bone, jade-emblazoned greatsword from his back.
open door n
You deftly block the rounded, dark-eyed woman's attack.The orderly, fair-skinned templar swiftly dodges your hit.
The rounded, dark-eyed woman tries unsuccessfully to dart in front of the orderly, fair-skinned templar.
A human Allanaki soldier tries to prevent you from opening the north exit, but fails.
You hit the orderly, fair-skinned templar, barely grazing his foot.
The delicate, ebon-haired woman closes the door.
The orderly, fair-skinned templar swiftly dodges your hit.
A human Allanaki soldier tries to prevent you from opening the north exit, but fails.
The delicate, ebon-haired woman closes the door.
You deftly block the orderly, fair-skinned templar's attack.
The orderly, fair-skinned templar swiftly dodges your hit.
The rounded, dark-eyed woman tries unsuccessfully to dart in front of the orderly, fair-skinned templar.
open door n
You deftly block the rounded, dark-eyed woman's attack.You hit the orderly, fair-skinned templar, barely grazing his body.
A human Allanaki soldier prevents you from opening the north exit.
You hit the orderly, fair-skinned templar, barely grazing his body.
The rounded, dark-eyed woman tries unsuccessfully to dart in front of the orderly, fair-skinned templar.
The orderly, fair-skinned templar gives a human Allanaki soldier an order.
You deftly block the half-giant soldier's attack.
Your fist *thumps* into the orderly, fair-skinned templar and a pair of anakore-claw gloves cuts him.
You unsling a rune-carved, stone hammer from your back.
The rounded, dark-eyed woman bludgeons at you, but you dodge out of the way.
The rounded, dark-eyed woman bludgeons you, barely grazing your body.
A human Allanaki soldier prevents you from opening the north exit.
You bludgeon the rounded, dark-eyed woman's body.
The rounded, dark-eyed woman bludgeons at you, but you dodge out of the way.
The half-giant soldier tries to protect the orderly, fair-skinned templar but fails!
You do the best you can!
The half-giant soldier slashes at you, but you dodge out of the way.
The half-giant soldier throws a kick at your ribs, but you step aside.
A human Allanaki soldier tries to prevent you from opening the north exit, but fails.
The rounded, dark-eyed woman blocks your attack.
A human Allanaki soldier tries to prevent you from fleeing out the north exit, but fails.
You attempt to flee.
Miner's Road [NESW]
The dusty old street known as Miner's Road weaves between the ramshackle constructions which make up the housing of the Commoner's Quarter, decrepit buildings of ancient mud brick, augmented with panels of rotting canvas and hide. Crowds wander through the thoroughfare, clad in faded abas and carrying their assorted burdens. A sultry, sloe-eyed elvish woman sits in a patch of shade, day-dreaming.
You flee, heading north.
Buckle leads the Templar and his entourage on a wild tregil chase as she bolts into the city, only to be cornered by a group of soldiers and ultimately found by a soldier that was once her friend.
31/1/117look
West Dragon's Path [EW]Gritty dirt and sand cover the surface of the ancient stones that lie underfoot. Old mud-brick buildings huddle to the north, forming the line marking the edge of the road, while southward stands the wall of the Templars' Quarter, behind which stands the Highlord's Tower, piercing its golden tip into the crimson sky. The path leads east and west, running parallel to the wall, while aspacious compound lies to the north.
A sandcloth backpack lies in the dust.
A jade-emblazoned obsidian longsword lies here.
A jade-emblazoned obsidian shortsword lies on the ground.
The muscular, sunburnt soldier is here, fighting you.
The lean, battle-scarred Allanaki soldier is sleeping here, bleeding profusely.
17/1/109
You wound the muscular, sunburnt soldier on his head with your bludgeon.The muscular, sunburnt soldier reels from the blow.
The rounded, dark-eyed woman has arrived from the west.
The muscular, sunburnt soldier parries your attack.
Panting heavily body bloodied, you exclaim to the rounded, dark-eyed woman, in sirihish:
"Walk. Away Bosha!"
Approaching up on the mess, the rounded, dark-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Fuck sake, Buckle.."
Your fist *thumps* into the muscular, sunburnt soldier and a pair of anakore-claw gloves cuts him.
The rounded, dark-eyed woman unslings an obsidian-headed polished-bone mace from her back.
You lightly bludgeon the muscular, sunburnt soldier's leg.
The muscular, sunburnt soldier's eyes roll back in his head.
A dusty jade-emblazoned, obsidian shortsword clatters to the ground as the muscular, sunburnt soldier releases it.
A dusty jade-emblazoned, obsidian longsword clatters to the ground as the muscular, sunburnt soldier releases it.
The muscular, sunburnt soldier crumples to the ground.
The rounded, dark-eyed woman bludgeons at you, but you dodge out of the way.
You exclaim to the rounded, dark-eyed woman, in sirihish:
"Leave!"
Shaking her head and lifting her obsidian-headed polished-bone mace, the rounded, dark-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Can't do it gal.."
The rounded, dark-eyed woman bludgeons at you, but you dodge out of the way.
You bludgeon the rounded, dark-eyed woman's hand.
You deftly block the rounded, dark-eyed woman's attack.
The rounded, dark-eyed woman blocks your attack.
You jab straight out and tag the rounded, dark-eyed woman with a pair of anakore-claw gloves.
You nick the rounded, dark-eyed woman's leg with your bludgeon.
The rounded, dark-eyed woman blocks your attack.
The rounded, dark-eyed woman parries your attack.
The rounded, dark-eyed woman's mace shatters!
The rounded, dark-eyed woman hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
You bludgeon the rounded, dark-eyed woman's wrist.
Two soliders collapsed at her feet, frame bloodied the robust, cerulean-eyed woman lashes out exasperatedly.
The rounded, dark-eyed woman blocks your attack.
You lash out and slice the rounded, dark-eyed woman with a pair of anakore-claw gloves.
The rounded, dark-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Could'a jus' ...-Fuck- ..talked.."
The rounded, dark-eyed woman draws a short bone sparring club.
The rounded, dark-eyed woman blocks your attack.
You deftly block the rounded, dark-eyed woman's attack.
The rounded, dark-eyed woman blocks your attack.
The rounded, dark-eyed woman winces heavily as the mace breaks and takes a sharp blow before drawing the dull club and eyes you.
You deftly block the rounded, dark-eyed woman's attack.
Your fist *thumps* into the rounded, dark-eyed woman and a pair of anakore-claw gloves cuts her.
You deftly block the rounded, dark-eyed woman's attack.
The rounded, dark-eyed woman blocks your attack.
You exclaim to the rounded, dark-eyed woman, in sirihish:
"I don't know what they want with me!"
You deftly parry the rounded, dark-eyed woman's attack.
The rounded, dark-eyed woman blocks your attack.
The rounded, dark-eyed woman bludgeons you, barely grazing your body.
Circling behind her used grey kank shell shield, the rounded, dark-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Stan' the fuck down, gal..-stand- down.."
You lash out and slice the rounded, dark-eyed woman with a pair of anakore-claw gloves.
The robust, cerulean-eyed woman hurls your rune-carved, stone hammer towards the rounded, dark-eyed woman, wearily.
You deftly block the rounded, dark-eyed woman's attack.
You exclaim to the rounded, dark-eyed woman, in sirihish:
"Then back off!"
You bludgeon the rounded, dark-eyed woman's body.
The rounded, dark-eyed woman bludgeons at you, but you dodge out of the way.
ass bosha
The rounded, dark-eyed woman stops attacking you.
The rounded, dark-eyed woman does not look well.
The rounded, dark-eyed woman looks tired.
16/1/117
The dusty, brown-haired soldier has arrived from the west.
You say, in sirihish:
"Shit."
Flatly, the rounded, dark-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Oi..Tha' don' mean take the whole city on..it means -stand- down.."
The rounded, dark-eyed woman blocks your attack.
You deftly block the dusty, brown-haired soldier's attack.
The dusty, brown-haired soldier holds her jade-emblazoned, obsidian shortsword.
The rounded, dark-eyed woman blocks your attack.
You lash out and slice the rounded, dark-eyed woman with a pair of anakore-claw gloves.
You exclaim to the rounded, dark-eyed woman, in sirihish:
"Then get your men off me!"
The dusty, brown-haired soldier slashes at you, but you dodge out of the way.
You deftly parry the dusty, brown-haired soldier's attack.
You nick the rounded, dark-eyed woman's leg with your bludgeon.
You jab straight out and tag the rounded, dark-eyed woman with a pair of anakore-claw gloves.
You land a solid bludgeon to the rounded, dark-eyed woman's leg.
You bludgeon the rounded, dark-eyed woman's arm.
You deftly parry the dusty, brown-haired soldier's attack.
The dusty, brown-haired soldier pierces your arm.
You lightly bludgeon the rounded, dark-eyed woman's body.
The rounded, dark-eyed woman is in poor condition.
The rounded, dark-eyed woman looks tired.
9/1/116
The rounded, dark-eyed woman attempts to flee.
The rounded, dark-eyed woman runs east.
ass dusty
The dusty, brown-haired soldier does not look well.
The dusty, brown-haired soldier looks a little weary.
4/1/116
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the west.
The half-giant soldier shouts, in sirihish:
"In the name of the Highlord!"
The half-giant soldier unslings a heavy bone, jade-emblazoned greatsword from his back.
You deftly block the half-giant soldier's attack.
The dusty, brown-haired soldier swiftly dodges your bludgeon.
You deftly block the half-giant soldier's attack.
The dusty, brown-haired soldier swiftly dodges your bludgeon.
You deftly block the dusty, brown-haired soldier's attack.
The dusty, brown-haired soldier pierces at you, but you dodge out of the way.
You try to slash the dusty, brown-haired soldier with a pair of anakore-claw gloves, but miss.
Shouting, the dusty, brown-haired soldier exclaims to the half-giant soldier, in sirihish:
"Take her down!"
The robust, cerulean-eyed woman screams hurling in towards the dusty, brown-haired soldier visciously.
The half-giant soldier slings a heavy bone, jade-emblazoned greatsword across his back.
You lightly bludgeon the dusty, brown-haired soldier's body.
You lightly bludgeon the dusty, brown-haired soldier's body.
You deftly parry the dusty, brown-haired soldier's attack.
You deftly block the dusty, brown-haired soldier's attack.
The dusty, brown-haired soldier looks near death.
The dusty, brown-haired soldier looks a little weary.
The half-giant soldier flings himself at you.
West Dragon's Path [EW]
Gritty dirt and sand cover the surface of the ancient stones that lie
underfoot. Old mud-brick buildings huddle to the north, forming the line
marking the edge of the road, while southward stands the wall of the
Templars' Quarter, behind which stands the Highlord's Tower, piercing its
golden tip into the crimson sky.
The path leads east and west, running parallel to the wall, while a
spacious compound lies to the north.
A sandcloth backpack lies in the dust.
A dusty jade-emblazoned obsidian longsword lies here.
A jade-emblazoned obsidian longsword lies here.
A dusty jade-emblazoned obsidian shortsword lies on the ground.
A jade-emblazoned obsidian shortsword lies on the ground.
A half-giant soldier of Tektolnes walks along here.
The dusty, brown-haired soldier is here, fighting you.
The muscular, sunburnt soldier is sleeping here.
The lean, battle-scarred Allanaki soldier is sleeping here.
The dusty, brown-haired soldier attempts to flee.
The dusty, brown-haired soldier runs west.
The orderly, fair-skinned templar has arrived from the west.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the west.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the west.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the west.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the west.
The delicate, ebon-haired woman has arrived from the west.
A human Allanaki soldier has arrived from the west.
The half-giant soldier subdues you.
4/1/117
The half-giant soldier exclaims, in sirihish:
"Gots her boss!"
Screaming her body a bloodied mess, you exclaim, in sirihish:
"Fuck off!"
Squinting, the orderly, fair-skinned templar looks down at you.
The diminutive, cerulean-eyed man sends you a telepathic message:
"*warily* ...I'm assuming you're alright then? Especially if the Lord Templar hasn't done anything yet..."
The half-giant soldier wraps an arm around your throat, squeezing tight.
Two soldiers bloodied at her feet the robust, cerulean-eyed woman growls struggling.
The delicate, ebon-haired woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Please stop moving. You might live longer."
The lean, battle-scarred Allanaki soldier's eyes flutter open.
The delicate, ebon-haired woman whispers something to the orderly, fair-skinned templar.
You contact the diminutive, cerulean-eyed man with the Way.
The orderly, fair-skinned templar nods his head aside at the delicate, ebon-haired woman.
You are very hungry.
You send a telepathic message to the diminutive, cerulean-eyed man:
"They... they're killing me, and I don't know why."
You send a telepathic message to the diminutive, cerulean-eyed man:
"I took down ... four."
The burning sun rises high into the sky, searing the earth.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the diminutive, cerulean-eyed man:
"Fuck... fuck... "
The orderly, fair-skinned templar taps the toe of his boot, gazing down at you with a bland look on his face.
The half-giant soldier lifts you up off the ground, gripping tight about the neck with one barred arm.
You say to the orderly, fair-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"You son of a bitch, I haven't done.... anything."
The half-giant soldier asks the orderly, fair-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"Arena wit'er boss?"
The robust, cerulean-eyed woman chokes, gasping under the half-giant soldier's grasp.
The diminutive, cerulean-eyed man sends you a telepathic message:
"*anxiety seeping across the Way* The fuck?! What in Drov is..."
With a narrowing of her eyes, the delicate, ebon-haired woman says to you, in sirihish:
"If that is true, then you have just committed a killable offense."
The robust, cerulean-eyed woman reaches up with a hand digging into the half-giant soldier's fist.
In a low, hissing rasp, the orderly, fair-skinned templar says, in sirihish:
"Yesss... knock her out first - she's troublesome to.. handle."
change accent northern
You begin speaking with a northern accent.
The delicate, ebon-haired woman whispers something to the orderly, fair-skinned templar.
Gasping breathlessly, you say to the delicate, ebon-haired woman, in sirihish:
"Fuck... you."
The half-giant soldier nods and then increases the pressure on his grip, choking you with a crack of knuckles.
Your vision goes black.
To be continued.
The Arena Floor [NESW]
You are on the west side of the Arena, between the First and Third Chradens. The screams and cheers emanating from the stands above you further add to the deadly and decadent mood. The Arena floor is made up of sand and rocks, as if built directly over the desert that...
Continue Reading...Krathi Outcast
Added on Jun 29, 2009Kind of whimsical depiction of a rouge krathi magicker unhappy with Tuluk's persecution of magickers. Influenced by tarot card art style.
Runner Woman
Added on Jun 29, 2009Portrait of a woman in the Byn.
Solace in Sound
Added on Sep 7, 2008A song written and performed by Sergeant Buckle Irofel, during exile.
No solace have I found
When I trod unfamiliar ground
An agony so profound
It seeks to end me
The only peace that I find
Waits in sound …
The stroke of my lute
The piercing lilt of the flute
The cry of the guitar
Oh how I miss the whistling samovar!
My solace... lies in sound.
The violin it weeps
The drum's leather it creaks
I’ll lift my voice to sing
As the bells so clearly ring!
For my only solace... lies in sound.
No! There’s no peace that I have found
Knowing you've gone into the ground
It's an agony so profound … It seeks to end me
The melody of song
It's what keeps me going on
For every beat and measure
Gives me the smallest pleasure
It's for you that I compose
Though you can't hear me now I know
But I'll raise voice and cup for you
Until the sands come claim me too!
For my solace... lies in sound
No solace have I found
When I trod unfamiliar ground
An agony so profound
It seeks to end me
The only peace that I find
Waits in sound …
The stroke of my lute
The piercing lilt of the flute
The cry of the guitar
Oh how I miss the whistling samovar!
My solace... lies in...
Continue Reading...Fate Decides
Added on Sep 7, 2008A song of Fate composed by Buckle Irofel.
I'll sing you a song of a man if you listen
Oh if you listen I've the story to tell…
He never had any grace to fall from
Only dirt filled the bottom of his well
From the day he breathed breath into his lungs now
It was almost to much then to take
Death crusted the streets that he walked down
Before he started it was already to late
When the dawn rose for me he was leaving
To go where that's not something I could say
He always had his backed turned to something
Took names and hearts to gamble away
But do you think he could out run it?
Keep pace from all of these debts that he fled
Like a vengeful beast it all stalked him
Tearing at the leash of time to get ahead
It finally descended upon him
As all men are suspect to time
The history he had created in life
Was no match when Fate chose to unwind!
Fate deals us our cards, rolls us the dice
Plots us like an izdari game
Is it Fate, is it luck who is to say?
For it took his heart and his name!
Well Fate didn't know, but I'll tell it to you
My secret of this story I send
This man had his, because he found respite
For he was remembered do the game came to an end!
I'll sing you a song of a man if you'll listen
Oh, if you listen I have the story to tell..
He never had any grace to fall from
But I loved him and I loved him well
I'll sing you a song of a man if you listen
Oh if you listen I've the story to tell…
He never had any grace to fall from
Only dirt filled the bottom of his well
From the day he breathed breath into his lungs now
It was almost to much then to take
Death crusted the streets that he walked...
Continue Reading...The Shield Wall
Added on Dec 16, 2007Ah, we are all familiar of the tragedies that "befall" us due to this natural wall of stone.
“Shit!” Five of them were bellowing and waving chipped bone weapons up in the air in rage as they ran. “You can’t blame me!” Minck shouted behind herself stumbling to tug herself up with the reins of her ox, all but falling onto her back before actually managing to scuttle into the saddle. “Ya! Moo! Go!”
“You little feck! Give us our money!”
“I’ll skin you and make a belt pouch outta your tits and a necklace outta yer teeth!
Grimacing, Minck snapped the reins of her dusty ox and kicked her heels into its sides. “Ouch.”
“That ox’a urs is gonna make a fine meal when we catch you girl!”
“Moo! Go!” Minck screamed loudly, the old ox that had already been following at a gallop by her side looked more than reluctant to oblige as it pranced with a light step over the sand dunes. “Faster! Do you want to a be a steak!” A burly woman with a blood crusted whip in hand whooped loudly as the group began to encroach, snapping the whip victoriously into the wind.
Suddenly spooked, Moo bellowed out a loud long moo before embarking in a full gallop, leaving sand, dust and the little farming village in his wake. “Ha ha!” Minck was howling, bouncing in the saddle and leaning forward as though to force them forward. She yelped out another long howl of triumph, as Moo ran faster than ever, seeming to grow more in fear and speed with every step. In the horizon a pale line marred the crimson sands, causing Minck to narrow her eyes, the heat from thermals rising from the ground causing the line to waver. “The road! Whoa, Moo.”
The ox didn’t stop only letting out a wavering moo once more perhaps in defiance in addition to it’s newly found irrational trepidation. “Moo!” Minck shrieked dragging the reins back in vain with all of her might. The road curved like a slithering serpent over the sands, and basked around a large gorge that sunk deep into the earth. Her eyes wide, she shook her head in a moment that seemed to slow time to reveal itself as the beast barreled towards the gaping hole. “Nooooo!” It was to late, stone cracked against hoof and they were toppling. The ox met open air and fell, side first. Minck, eyes wide with disbelief, her stomach flopping tilted to the other side, twisting her self from the saddle, feet still caught in the stir ups. They fell into shadow beyond the reach of the light above and then with a thump she couldn’t hear, the deeper blackness of unconsciousness engulfed her.
There was a sour taste in her mouth as her eyes slid open. Minck, picked herself up recoiling in disgust and gagging as she cleansed her mouth with fresh saliva spitting crusted vomit from her mouth and smearing it from her lips. It was dark. They had fallen. For a moment, she sat there, forearms over her bent knees from where she sat against the cliff wall, trying to shake the drowsiness in the deep darkness. As she reached up to slip her fingers through her hair, her fingertips landed on a crusted patch, strands of hair dried into the scab. Her first urge was to pick her hair out of it even if it meant to open up the wound but dejectedly she dropped her hand back across her knee. Moo? Where was he? Was she alone? Closing her eyes, she reached behind her and pulled her backpack into her lap, feeling for a torch and flint kit. She had done it many times during the night, and this time there was little difference. She held the torch between her knees and struck the flint until the rag wrapped torch licked up the sparks and ignited into a warm flame. The smell of fresh smoke filled her nostrils a moment and the warm amber glow ebbed and then grew, pressing the darkness away. The soles of her boots scratched pebble and sand as she used the wall of the cliff to inch herself back to her feet. From the opposite end of the vertical tunnel that had devoured them she could see an oxen body unmoving and slumped over the ground. The wide, stocky chest of the ox moved neither up or down and immediately Minck new that the life had left him.
Sighing, Minck inched closer, every muscle was sore from the recent trauma and moving was uncomfortable. She held up the torch, narrowing her eyes wearily to see what had been Moo’s neck forced into an unnatural angle, it’s eyes peering out lifelessly and thick tongue sprawled eerily over the ground. Minck paused, contemplating a moment whether or not to skin the creature before finally deciding she didn’t have the heart or motivation to do so right now and began to feel along the side of the walls for some kind of exit. Cursing Moo’s name, she squeezed into a small corridor made of natural, craggy stone walls and soon she was emerging, into the sands. A sandstorm had picked up and night had fallen. “Ah, a delightful combination,” Minck grumbled out loud. Pulling up her hood, and tugging the sandcloth drawstrings to secure it against her brow, she pressed on, to afraid to sleep for fear that the fuzziness in her head would claim her and she would never wake. Using the face of what was known as the Shield Wall as her guide, she felt her way along, inching with effort through the storm. Luckily the winds favored her and seemed to usher her forward and instead of shoving her back. A small amount of luck for an unfortunate week. “You just had to have that whore didn’t you Minck? You just couldn’t leave it to ya self. Nope… that was to hard. Shet. How’s a lass supposed to be out in tha sands a month with out some pretty company here and there. Damn fool farmers. And so damn expensive for some critter crotch free company. How’s a lass like me to be expected to have that type of coin?” Pausing in her rant to herself, she spat out a wad of sand and coughed, narrowing her gaze to peer into the sky. The slightest traces of light were beaming through the storm and Minck collapsed against the wall, closing her eyes slowly finally succumbing to sleep as the winds howled.
“Aaaaaaaah!” THUD!
Minck leaped to her feet, swiping her dagger into her hand, eyes still half lidded. The storm was still slashing the air and it pressed Minck against the stone wall, whipping her cloak and hood back. Squinting, she could see mounts and men littering the dunes around her. With a clack and clatter stones rained above her, causing her to scream and dive out of the way as a final war beetle collapsed from the wall above, embedding itself into the sand. “What the fuck! What the fuck!” It was all she could scream, though her words were barely audible over rushing winds.
Looking incredulous a stocky man bent on a knee and then picked himself up. She couldn’t make the details of his features out as he turned his head to her but as he approached the brown of his cloak and the stripes on his sleeves made it obvious what he was. “Damn Bynner! Ya’ bug nearly squashed me, isn’t it supposed to go the other way around!” The beetles, whose head was buried kicked it’s six legs, thrashing and skittering in an effort to free itself. Minck and the Sergeant watched a long while as the others picked themselves up and the bug became still, legs still crooked but now rigged like dead tree limbs. The wind’s screaming became a hush and soon, small waves of wind lapped harmlessly at the cloth of the groups garb and abas as though Whira had been satiated by the amount of chaos it had caused.
“Shit!” Five of them were bellowing and waving chipped bone weapons up in the air in rage as they ran. “You can’t blame me!” Minck shouted behind herself stumbling to tug herself up with the reins of her ox, all but falling onto her back before actually managing to scuttle into the saddle....
Continue Reading...Honky Tonk Women of Zalanthas
Added on May 31, 2007Honky Tonk women refers to an episode of Cowboy Bebop in which the main female protagonist is down on her luck as usual. Not to mention the famous Rolling Stones song. This story is the same - about clever women (only of Zalanthas) and how they deal with heartache and betrayl.
Her back to the wall she tilted a glance briefly over her shoulder then back around the corner again, she had to be quick. From her perch at the corner of the corridor she could see, could see him laugh as she stumbled in his arms, drunk. For a moment she tilted her head aside staring off as a flash of numbing anger lulled through her mind. She smeared her lips together blinked and her mind was clear again, the woman's drunkenness would give her a clear advantage if combat came into play. They were moving into the room now and the door was closing shut unnoticed behind them. Perfect. Crouching and moving swiftly with measured steps she kneeled slipping her fingertips gently but precisely between the door and the wall. She held it open only a crack peering in past the opening to watch the couple already fumbling with their clothes head towards the bedroom. Her eyes narrowed, not to see but in another flare of rage that she forced to calm herself amid the silence, unwilling to betray her position. A single dim wall lantern illuminated the sand crusted hallway and the ancient, cracked granite tiles. Only the faintest glow of light lapped at the hem of her cloak dyed deeply to remain the color of Drov.
Rising delicately she slid the door open to give her just enough berth to roll in on a shoulder and then gently coax the door closed behind her in silence. For only a moment she was standing fully upright and her eyes darted keenly over the familiar sparse room of mud dried walls. She sneered as a delighted shriek and giggle wafted from the eastward room and her stomach roiled. "Bastard," she thought not daring to speak as her cheeks flushed red. Turning she crept one foot over the other towards the archway to the other room, closing her eyes to listen so as to estimate their position. Their rough breaths were muffled, their backs were to her, the girl was probably positioned on the edge of the bed. She reached for a thin, leather ribbon that secured the reed tube to her shoulder. With nimble fingertips she tugged a string unlacing it effortlessly and slid it into her hand, reaching then into her deep pockets to produce a single dart fletched with a pitch black feather. Briefly, her hand trembled. She never trembled, but this mark was personal. She inserted the arrow into the reed, daring only slowly to peer over the archway, she could easily see his bare back, shoulders flexing with each thrust, the woman's legs wrapped around him. A frown tightened her brow but then she forced it to her relax, guiding her body into the fluidity required to successfully end another's life undetected. With a puff of breath and the slightest hollow sound the dart, gleaming with a sheen of poison, soared through the air piercing the man in the back of the neck.
With a final single thrust, the man's heavily muscled shoulders relaxed, elbows bending as he fell collapsing over the bed, and ultimately pinning the woman between himself and the straw cushioning. Anya grinned sadistically, her heart racing as she slowly dared to ascend from the shadows. The woman underneath him frowned, seemingly confused as she struggled to free herself from the massive body. "Glenn?" She laughed writhing in vain to sit up, "Glenn! Are you oka..." Her voice trailed off, eyes widening as fingers laced over the dart still pinned in the man's neck before her eyes found Anya standing beyond him. Her body stilled, her rosy face slumped and paled, "Anya...I..."
"You what, Dai?" Anya's heart thumped heavily in her chest, a sneer of disgust on her lips as her eyes traced over the man still breathing in a deep content sleep, blanketing the woman's swarthy bare body. Dai's grey eyes dropped away, seemingly now unaware of the body draped over her own. "What are you doing with him!" Anya screamed jealousy and anguish finally erupting from her lips.
"I don't know!" cried the woman, "I've been drinking... I'm sorry!"
"You're sorry!" Anya, smeared a hand over her face, the stoic visage of an assassin gone her voice incredulous, "You're... sorry! And what about all of the other times! You think I didn’t know! What about me!" Anya shook her head, drawing a curved bone knife from the confines of her belt. Watching Dai, with disdain, her voice tucked tight in sarcasm, "You're sorry." Dia gasped, tears in her eyes as she struggled to grab at her cloak marked with the vivid crimson insignia of a slithering Borsail Wyvern. "You wanted information from me, from The Guild."
"No," Dia started shaking her head as Anya pressed the knife towards her throat pinning her once more.Anya narrowed her eyes and swallowed hard, an attempt to regain the sound place she had found before that had always allowed her to kill without remorse, "All that information you gave Lord Borsail. I didn't think you wanted the promotion that badly." Anya peered down at Dai, her sandy blond hair spilling over her diminutive bosom, "Just tell me one thing Dai, did you ever mean it when you said were mates." Her words were followed by another pained gulp.
Dai frowned, her fear turning to anger and foreboding in her voice, "I have Lord Borsail in my head right now Anya!"
Anya's blade pressed firmly against the supple skin of Dai's neck, drawing a tiny sliver of blood, "Answer the fucking question you whore."
"I'm an aide of Borsail rinth rat... they know all about you they..." Anya tilted her head to the side as though daring another ill spoken word as she reached with her free hand to firmly grab a tuft of Dai's mane. The rage inside her was growing as she drew in a long ragged breath. Her heart was sinking, drowning out any thoughts of sensibility, any desire for mercy. Dai paused, her gaze meeting Anya's squarely, her voice cool and snide, "You want to know the truth? I don't even like girls."
"Wrong answer," Anya whispered, forcefully sliding her blade with a sickening wet stroke over the woman's throat.Her back to the wall she tilted a glance briefly over her shoulder then back around the corner again, she had to be quick. From her perch at the corner of the corridor she could see, could see him laugh as she stumbled in his arms, drunk. For a moment she tilted her head aside staring off as a...
Continue Reading...Krath's Touch
Added on Dec 22, 2006A Krathi magicker is endowed with Suk-Krath's power for the first time much to her own surprise.
Loni's eye's scoured the arid, glistening horizon for a long moment as a tiny bead of sweat fell from her brow and a vein of water slid from her skin. With a crunch of her boots she crouched down, extending a hand to steady herself against the grainy mixture of salt and sand that blanketed the land here. As the sun began to peak up over the horizon, the slightest hint of it's face sent Suk-Krath's bold beams of light shooting through the sky and over everything else. Loni had been out scavenging the sand for lumps of salt large enough to sell, a tedious but worthwhile task for a lonely half breed of the commoner's quarter. As one hour turned into two the form of the burning sphere of Suk-Krath in the sky continued its daily path, floating with ease higher into the heavens. Intent on the glistening crystals and the coarsely woven salt sack slumped over the sand next to her, Loni was unaware of the tall insectiod that had spotted her over the flat horizon and was fast approaching each of it's several legs pulling over the sand in synchronized time.
Hearing the sound of sand crunching rapidly in protest under the many, moving legs of the towering insect Loni cringed flinging herself back to peer up at the scrab with quickly widening eyes. It's mandibles clacking and rubbing against one another eagerly the beast clacked one clawed pincer extending it towards the scrawny, auburn-maned young woman. Stung by the paralyzation of dread she could do nothing but fling her sun-baked, slim arms over her face expecting the inevitable. Blinking she jolted to hear what sounded like the abrupt roar of a bond fire as the musky smell of smoke wafted to her nose in all of what could not have been more than an instant. With a guttural shriek of surprise the stunned insect swept at the air with it's claws as the girl rolled over in time to see the beast turning it's knobby legs to carry it away in bewilderment. Squinting as the creature departed she noticed smoke trailing from the scrab's, what now appeared singed, chitin in-casing.
What had just happened? Shaking and still sprawled on her back, Loni's emerald eyes darted left and right trying to locate the source of the flames before she scurried to her feet. Standing a long moment as the pace of her heartbeat gradually beginning to thump back to regularity, the girl smeared a hand over her face and she took a shaky breath. She rested one hand on her hip and dropped the other to her side, pressing her lips together as she realized she should get her salt sack and leave. She should leave now! But then, there was the smell of burning again, black smoke wafted to her nose and Loni's brow furrowed upward as the sound of a crackling fire floated to her ears akin to the smell. Her eyes followed the tendrils of smoke downward. Was the flame at her feet? Had someone shot a low flying flaming arrow? But in a moment of horrifying revelation her emerald eyes dropped to her hand and caught the flashing and dancing of the flames in their depths. Her hand was burning.
Shaking, she slowly and feebly began to close her fist, mouth dropping open with a mortified squeak that barely escaped the back of her throat. Struggling mentally to grasp what had happened, and why she could not feel the flames her fingers curled. With the tightening of her hand just as a candle is snuffed the flames evaporated leaving only a trail of smoke and Loni's heart racing once more. Swooning, Loni grabbed her head beginning to stumble towards the ivory salt road that would ultimately guide her to the Black City of Allanak. The sun seared her eyes, her throat was parched. She reached out for something to stable her quivering hand but there was nothing and as she stumbled forward, her legs gave out. She groaned in pain and exhaustion as her face met the hot sand and the heat began to envelope her like boiling water. Collapsing over the sand Loni wandered if she was suffering from Krath's Touch. The scrab. The fire. Everything had been an illusion. It must have been ... what were they called? A mirage. Yes a mirage. It must have been. If not that would mean that she was....
She gasped as every drop of moisture was sucked quickly from her mouth and throat. And then everything went black.
When Loni awoke she was standing naked and deep inside what looked like a hollow mountain. A perfectly round, flat of stone was positioned under her feet and beyond that what looked like thick, bubbling liquid flame boiled and popped around her. Something had sunk in now, and she was not afraid as the magma crept up over the small area of land that was her perch and began to form around her skin. She accepted it feeling neither cold nor hot but warm and soothed. The magma bubbled and oozed over her bare, thin frame she closed her eyes feeling the serene heat of the thriving liquid. Her arms lifted, her eyes closed, her mouth opened and as the magma sunk into her mouth and ears she could feel the flame begin to pump through her veins. It was empowering her, it was speaking to her, whispering riddles in words that she had never heard before but that she would never forget. The words came in song now as each throbbing of her heart circulated the energy of the Sun but just as the melody came to the loudest most melodic point Loni's eyes opened wide.
Her face was pressed against a cool bed of coarse salt and the sky had turned from crimson to black ink, it's infinite expanse absent of the radiance of Suk-Krath. Taking a deep breath Loni rose to her feet and reached up gently smoothing her hands over her sandcloth garb and dusting crusted sand from the side of her face that had used the earth as a pillow. Looking nothing short of taken aback, Loni stared off into the sky her thoughts only mildly interrupted by the soft lull of the occasional wind, relieving the land of the intense heat that Suk-Krath spared it only at night. Running a hand through her hair her ajar mouth slowly squirmed into a smile and then laughter spilled from her lips. Joyful laughter as a rise of adrenaline flexed through her veins as she began to realize the new powers that she now enjoyed. Howling in the excitement of her ecstasy Loni rose her hands over her head shooting out gusts of flames and casting shapes around her in trails of amber light in an improvised dance of elation. No longer a helpless breed Loni, was now a Krathi.
Loni's eye's scoured the arid, glistening horizon for a long moment as a tiny bead of sweat fell from her brow and a vein of water slid from her skin. With a crunch of her boots she crouched down, extending a hand to steady herself against the grainy mixture of salt and sand that blanketed the...
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