Original Submissions by Ghost of type 'Logs'
-
A bad day to be a foreigner in the rinth
Added on Dec 31, 2007A recently arrived southsider has a rough night in the rinthi bar
A Cramped, Dingy Bar [EWU]
Were it not for the sheer overpowering vileness of the air outside,
this small and tightly-cramped room would scarcely seem a breath of
freshness at all. Thick, acrid smoke intermingles with the smell of
unwashed bodies, vomit, cheap booze, and ancient decay in the limited
confines of this room, creating a unique amalgam of foulness that even the
rough sensibilities of a dwarf would quail at. The walls of the room are
short and the roof is relatively low, giving one an acute claustrophobic
feeling that mirrors the feel of the surrounding alleyways with merciless
precision. A few crates are stacked here and there in a seemingly haphazard
array. Whatever their intended purpose, it appears as though patrons have
begun using them as seats in lieu of squatting on the ale-damp floor. The
center of the room draws your attention once your eyes have adjusted to the
change in lighting and reveals a strange stoneworked depression, roughly
three cords deep and ten cords across. Broken stonework sculptures surround
the edges of the depression in a seeming mockery of a gleeful dance.
Several battered crates with a thick slab of pure obsidian draped across
them seem to serve as a makeshift bar in a corner of the room. An equally
battered wooden door is situated just behind it.
Just beside the bar, a loosely hanging rope ladder disappears up into a
jagged hole in the ceiling of the room.
A ladder-backed bone chair is here standing idly near the wall.
A multi-ringed dartboard hangs on a wall here.
A message board is propped up against a wall.
The stoic, brown-skinned mul is standing here.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak is standing here.
- he is carrying a filthy, crude hide bag.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man is standing here.
The thick-set, sideburned bartender is here cleaning out mugs with a rag.
The long-haired, scar faced man stands by the bar, arms over his chest.
The lanky, dreadlocked man, is hanging out here lazily against the wall.
The muscular, hatchet-faced man stands here by the door.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak hands over an empty bag.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak says to the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"Get better stuff for da next time."
The grey-skinned, orange haired man says to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"There is no better stuff..."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak puts his string of cocoons into his filthy, crude hide bag.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak puts his pair of footpads into his filthy, crude hide bag.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak asks the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"If I's walk you's over dere an' show you's sumfin useful, what do I's get from you?"
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak puts his shard of sharp-edged obsidian into his filthy, crude hide bag.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man says to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"A surprised look. A very surprised look."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak asks the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"A finger? Three? Maybe you's eye?"
The grey-skinned, orange haired man says to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"I want to keep my fingers... and my eye..."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak says to the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"Den figure out what you's doin wrong an' fuckin fix it."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak says to the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"Every other fucker in da alleys know how to scrounge for valuable shit."
The stoic, brown-skinned mul exhales lightly, looking out into the alley.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak asks the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"You's tryin to say you's da stupidest motherfucker walkin dem alleys? Is dat it?"
The grey-skinned, orange haired man says to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"I only been in the alley for a half-a-month... less than that..."
The grey-skinned, orange haired man says to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"only like six weeks actually."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak asks the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"You's think you's gonna survive da next half month bein worthless?"
Lifting his chin to the grey-skinned, orange haired man, the stoic, brown-skinned mul says to the tall figure in a dark
hooded cloak, in southern-accented sirihish:
"I'd just throw him in the well."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak asks the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"What da fuck did you's do southside for coin?"
The stoic, brown-skinned mul shrugs, and folds his arms leaning on a sturdy old bar.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man says to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"Worked at the butcher shop some, but I only started workin' really."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak asks, in sirihish:
"Afore what?"
Kicking a long, low and cracked clay table, the stoic, brown-skinned mul says to the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in
southern-accented sirihish:
"Get out of my table."
The grey-skinned, orange haired man nervously pushes off the tabletop, moving away.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man stands up from a long, low and cracked clay table.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man asks the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"Afore?"
Taking the grey-skinned, orange haired man's seat, the stoic, brown-skinned mul sits at a
long, low and cracked clay table.
Speaking clearly, the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak asks the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in
sirihish:
"Afore what?"
The stoic, brown-skinned mul scratches his head.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak asks, in sirihish:
"Afore he figure out you's ain' know shit about shit an' you's ain' worth da coin he payin you's?"
The stoic, brown-skinned mul shuffles a deck of Kruth cards.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man says to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"I wasn't fired..."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak asks the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"Den why ain' you's dere now?"
The stoic, brown-skinned mul deals himself a Kruth card.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man says to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"'cause my best friend ran away here, so I did too."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak asks, in sirihish:
"You's best friend?"
The stoic, brown-skinned mul flips his Kruth card: the Sun of Kings over in his hand looking at it.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak asks, in sirihish:
"An' who dat?"
The stoic, brown-skinned mul puts his deck of Kruth cards into his leather backpack.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak asks, in sirihish:
"Some stupid whore?"
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak looks at the grey-skinned, orange haired man with open contempt.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man says to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"An elf. I think he's dead now."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak says to the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"You's fuckin followed an' elf.... to da alleys."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak shakes his head at the grey-skinned, orange haired man.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man says to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"I've never really been with humans, as friends..."
The stoic, brown-skinned mul gets his deck of Kruth cards from his leather backpack.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak's features soften.
Softly, the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak says to the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in
sirihish:
"I... I's never really had no friends either..."
The stoic, brown-skinned mul arches a smooth brow to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, flipping through his deck of
Kruth cards slowly.
Nodding swiftly, his eyes widening a bit, the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak asks the grey-skinned,
orange haired man, in sirihish:
"You's wanna maybe... maybe be my's friend?"
The stoic, brown-skinned mul smirks.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man says to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"Your joking. I ain't that dumb."
The stoic, brown-skinned mul shuffles a deck of Kruth cards.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak says to the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"No no... I's serious."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak says to the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"Maybe we's can share a drink an' some spice or sumfin."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak says to the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"Talk about dem old times an' shit... maybe hold hands or sumfin."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak reaches a hand towards the grey-skinned, orange haired man's
hand.
The stoic, brown-skinned mul shuffles a deck of Kruth cards.
The pallid, dark-curled young man chuckles, watching the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak and the grey-skinned, orange
haired man.
Pretending to not notice his hand, the grey-skinned, orange haired man says to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in
sirihish:
"I've never done spice..."
The stoic, brown-skinned mul turns his deck of Kruth cards over curiously, looking through the
cards.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak subdues the grey-skinned, orange haired man.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man exclaims, in sirihish:
"Gah!"
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak grabs the grey-skinned, orange haired man's hand with a
alarmingly fast motion.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man says to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"I see you like to be friendly..."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak drags the grey-skinned, orange haired man to the far side of the
bar.
Nodding a few times, the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak says to the grey-skinned, orange haired
man, in sirihish:
"Yeah... I's good like dat."
The stoic, brown-skinned mul deals himself a Kruth card.
The stoic, brown-skinned mul deals a Kruth card: the Water of Death to you.
Holding him hand, the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak says to the grey-skinned, orange haired man,
in sirihish:
"What I's really like doin is rememberin all da good time's I's had wif my's friends....
cause when dey all dead an' gone, dat really all dat left."
Nodding amiably, the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak says to the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in
sirihish:
"Like you's remember dat one time when you's an' me's was talkin...."
The grey-skinned, orange haired man asks the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"Which time?"
The grey-skinned, orange haired man asks the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"When you sold my corpse...?"
Shaking his head quickly, his hollow voice sounding amiable, the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak
says to the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"No no no.... dat time when you's sayin about all da shit dat can't be found in dat
market..."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak begins to squeeze the grey-skinned, orange haired man's hand.
Wincing slightly, the grey-skinned, orange haired man says to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak,
in sirihish:
"Yeah..."
Increasing the pressure of his grip, the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak asks the grey-skinned,
orange haired man, in sirihish:
"An' den I's was sayin how I's -know- dere good stuff dere, but you's was jus' too stupid
to find it's?"
The grey-skinned, orange haired man nods nervously to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak.
His voice amiable, the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak says to the grey-skinned, orange haired man,
in sirihish:
"An' you's start babblin all dis shit about how you's used to be a butcher an' how you's
leave you's pleasant little....."
The grey-skinned, orange haired man attentivly listens to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak.
The stoic, brown-skinned mul looks from his deck of Kruth cards to you with little
understanding.
Hatred slowly seeping into his voice, the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak says to the grey-skinned,
orange haired man, in sirihish:
"insignificant worthless an' pathetic little existence to come here an' play in dem
motherfuckin alleys....."
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak begins to crush the grey-skinned, orange haired man's hand with
impossible strength.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man exclaims to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"Think it was a mistake- GAH!"
The grey-skinned, orange haired man struggles in vain against the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man squirms horribly.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man struggles in vain against the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak.
The stoic, brown-skinned mul asks the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, in southern-accented
sirihish:
"Want me to punch out his teeth?"
The stoic, brown-skinned mul looks up from his cards, tracing his fingers over each one with
great care.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak says to the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"An' den you's continue on - cause you's KNOW I fuckin really care about dat kind of
shit... about how you's fuckin little elf friend dead now's....."
The grey-skinned, orange haired man continues to squirm, no longer listening but concentrating
on the pain.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man struggles in vain against the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak.
The morbid sound of snapping bones fills in an odd moment of silence within the bar as the
tall figure in a dark hooded cloak continues to crush the grey-skinned, orange haired man's hand.
The grey-skinned, orange haired man screams!
His eyes flaring a bright red as he hisses his words out, the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak
exclaims to the grey-skinned, orange haired man, in sirihish:
"Find... me... sumfin... fuckin... USEFUL!"
The stoic, brown-skinned mul glances at the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak, a few figures in the
bar glancing uncomfortably but daring not speak.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak snaps his hand to the side, breaking the grey-skinned, orange
haired man's wrist.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak grabs the grey-skinned, orange haired man's chest with his other
hand and shoves him across the room.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak roughly shoves the grey-skinned, orange haired man west.
To the west is Twisting Alleyway.
[Near]
The grey-skinned, orange haired man is reclining here.
A low, crumbled stone wall sits here, its front occupied by faded bas-relief carvings.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak walks over to a long, low and cracked clay table.
Throwing his hands up in a mocking fashion, the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak exclaims, in sirihish:
"I decide it might be fun to come to da alleys! My's friend do it so I's come along for
da adventure!"
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak shakes his head in disgust.
The stoic, brown-skinned mul smirks to the tall figure in a dark hooded cloak.
The pallid, dark-curled young man places your Kruth card: the Stone of Deceit over a triangular stone table.
The stoic, brown-skinned mul tilts his head taking the card.
You give your Kruth card: the Sun of Life to the
stoic, brown-skinned mul.
The stoic, brown-skinned mul puts his deck of Kruth cards onto a long, low and cracked clay
table.
Holding the picture up to his eyes, the stoic, brown-skinned mul looks at his Kruth card: the
Sun of Life.
You give your Kruth card: the Wind of Deceit to the
stoic, brown-skinned mul.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak looks between the stoic, brown-skinned mul and you.
The tall figure in a dark hooded cloak asks, in sirihish:
"What you's two playin?"
A Cramped, Dingy Bar [EWU]
Were it not for the sheer overpowering vileness of the air outside,
this small and tightly-cramped room would scarcely seem a breath of
freshness at all. Thick, acrid smoke intermingles with the smell of
unwashed bodies, vomit, cheap booze, and ancient decay in...
Continue Reading...The Criminal, part VI: "Kill me, or let me go."
Added on Mar 23, 2007Staying in a foreign city started to show its unpleasant face. Sophie could not get to talk to anyone. Nor did Serpent have much of a control over his organisation in the Labyrinth. Returning and starting everything again, started to show its sweet face. And after about a month of time, Serpent decided it was time to take the risk and return.
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Submitter's note:
Staying in a foreign city started to show its unpleasant face. Sophie could not get to talk to anyone. Nor did Serpent have much of a control over his organisation in the Labyrinth. Returning and starting everything again, started to show its sweet face. And after about a month of time, Serpent decided it was time to take the risk and return.
P.S: I have edited the log many times, deleting some passages of conversations, mindtalks, and some emotes and I have also replaced some names/actions as **censored** to avoid passing some information that better kept as it is. I hope you find it a good read.
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The Sun King's Sanctuary [NESWUD]
A polished, white marble floor covers the ground of this expansive
room, gleaming under the light of a large glass chandelier that hangs
overhead. A semi-circular bar, made of hard-grained wood painted a deep
black, extends from the eastern wall, several high-backed barstools sitting
around it. The walls of this room are brightly decorated, with several
elaborate paintings placed carefully for unobstructed view, and shelves
holding many exotic potted plants, blooming with bright red and white
flowers. Two large stained-glass windows, decorated with elaborate sun
symbols, adorn the northwest and southeast corners of the room.
Several decoratively carved tables fill this room, while a polished
leather couch nearly ten cords in length sprawls along the northern wall. A
stately spiral staircase sits in the center of the room, winding upwards
toward the common rooms of the second floor. The sounds of laughter and
music can be heard from a doorway along the western wall, while the scents
of cooked meat waft in from the east. A small, straight stairway sits along
the northern wall, ending at a slightly raised loft and a large carven
baobab door sits in the southern wall, leading out onto the North Road
outside.
The Tuluk bulletin board is here propped up on a stand.
The tiny, copper-skinned, auburn-haired woman moves easily from table to table.
The svelte, loreshi-tressed woman is standing here.
The short figure in a black, moonstone-buttoned cloak is standing here.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier is standing here.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is sitting at a highly polished table.
A human Tuluki soldier is here, patrolling.
The auburn, charm-tasseled man is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The sharp-featured human soldier flanks the silver-haired templar.
The spare, silvery-blonde templar is sitting at a highly polished table.
The umber-skinned, azure-eyed man stands here attentively.
The prodigious, purple-skinned half-giant soldier looms on duty here.
The short haired, heavy-set man stands here mug in-hand.
The tall, well-groomed man sits here on a plush couch.
The gaunt, black-haired man is here, leaning on the bar.
The long-haired, middle-aged man stands behind the counter.
Passing a highly polished table, the svelte, loreshi-tressed woman inclines her head to the table's
occupants and smilesa.
<95/95 114/124 101/101 - walking >listen on
You are already listening.
Noticing a crowd of soldiers around a highly polished table, the short figure in a black,
moonstone-buttoned cloak inclines her head deeply, then continues toward a black-painted bar.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the sleek, honey-eyed young woman with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the sleek, honey-eyed young woman:
"Getting ready for the trip?"
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman sends you a telepathic message:
"I am, and I see you. Silence and I are getting along well."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Dawn?"
You ask the sleek, honey-eyed young woman, in sirihish:
"You think I should call our escort for the trip or should it wait?"
You say to the sleek, honey-eyed young woman, in sirihish:
"Hmm.. daybreak is a good timing indeed."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the sinewy, bald-headed man with the Way.
Nodding lightly as she shifts on a saffron-colored kank, the sleek, honey-eyed young woman asks
you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Have anything you need me to gather in preparation?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the sinewy, bald-headed man:
"Good day Kot. You think we can set for the trip at tomorrow daybreak?"
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The sinewy, bald-headed man sends you a telepathic message:
"Should be an easy trip, then. Bring water and food."
Her torso wrapped in a linen sling holding a blond-haired baby, the sleek, honey-eyed young woman
steps to a small white stone bench.
Leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek, the sleek, honey-eyed young woman whispers to you in
sirihish:
"I'm going to go get everything from the apartment, love."
Slipping an arm around your shoulders, the sleek, honey-eyed young woman whispers to you in
sirihish:
"Mmm, I bought some rations, I'll cook with the rest of the supplies we have. I'll be changing
clothes, as well."
Before releasing her grip on you, the sleek, honey-eyed young woman squeezes your shoudler with her
arm.
Bobbing his head, you say to the sleek, honey-eyed young woman, in
sirihish:
"Alright. Sounds good."
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman walks south.
You think:
"Wonder how it will be like to be in Allanak again."
It is dusk on Dzeda, the 42nd day of the Ascending Sun,
In the Year of King's Defiance, year 19 of the 21st Age.
You think:
"Nearly the day is going down. Little time till the dawn."
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman has arrived from the south.
Wiping sweat from her brow, the sleek, honey-eyed young woman sighs as she lower sonto a small
white stone bench.
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman sits on a small white stone bench.
At your seat, the sleek, honey-eyed young woman says in southern-accented sirihish, settling her
sizeable leather backpack in her lap:
"This is heavy."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the robust, crimson-eyed man:
"I will most probably make my trip to south this week, Faithful Lord. Just wanted to say it."
You dissolve the psychic link.
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Evening."
At your seat, the obsidian-skinned woman says in southern-accented sirihish, nodding slowly:
"Evening."
At your seat, the obsidian-skinned woman says in southern-accented sirihish, shaking her head:
"There is something going on around here..."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"What is it?"
At your seat, the obsidian-skinned woman says in southern-accented sirihish:
"I don't know... bugs disappearing..."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, blinking in surprise:
"What?"
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman has arrived from the north.
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman sits on a small white stone bench, settling next to you.
At your seat, the obsidian-skinned woman says in southern-accented sirihish, shaking her head:
"I think I just need a bit of rest."
At your seat, the sleek, honey-eyed young woman says in southern-accented sirihish, dipping her
head to the obsidian-skinned woman:
"Hello, Ferris."
At your seat, the obsidian-skinned woman says in southern-accented sirihish, to the sleek,
honey-eyed young woman:
"Evening, Sophie."
At your seat, the sleek, honey-eyed young woman says in southern-accented sirihish, tilting her
head at the obsidian-skinned woman:
"What's the matter?"
At your seat, the obsidian-skinned woman says in southern-accented sirihish, surveying the area:
"I've been seeing things.... then they'd disappear."
At your seat, the sleek, honey-eyed young woman says in southern-accented sirihish, her brows
lifting a bit:
"What.. kind of things?"
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"You took spice or something?"
The obsidian-skinned woman shakes her head.
Giving an irritated grunt, the sleek, honey-eyed young woman squeezes her eyes shut.
At your seat, the sleek, honey-eyed young woman says in southern-accented sirihish, lifting a
hand to touch her head:
"Been awhile since I've felt that."
At your seat, the obsidian-skinned woman says in southern-accented sirihish, shaking her head:
"The tempalars kicked me out of the tavern, because it happened. They were going to do it
anyway."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, quietly:
"A little more quiet on that."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Remember.. We are all foreigners here."
At your seat, the sleek, honey-eyed young woman says in southern-accented sirihish, squinting an
eye open:
"What did you see, Ferris?"
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman is gone just a second..
The sinewy, bald-headed man sends you a telepathic message:
"I'll be hanging around the stables, whenever you three are ready to leave."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the sinewy, bald-headed man:
"Waying someone.. We will be there once we are finished."
You dissolve the psychic link.
At your seat, the obsidian-skinned woman says in southern-accented sirihish, looking around:
"I saw bugs crawl up my leg... They were there for a second... The next... They were gone."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar has arrived from the west.
The spare, silvery-blonde templar has arrived from the west.
The prodigious, purple-skinned half-giant soldier has arrived from the west.
The umber-skinned, azure-eyed man has arrived from the west.
The sharp-featured human soldier has arrived from the west.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the west.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the west.
The spare, silvery-blonde templar glances to the robust, crimson-eyed templar.
Slowly walking along the crowd, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to the spare, silvery-blonde
templar, in an unfamiliar tongue:
"Irhihirkojt."
Tilting her head to one side as she answers, the spare, silvery-blonde templar says to the robust,
crimson-eyed templar, in northern-accented sirihish:
"His Radiance guides us always."
The male wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap glances at the approaching crowd, rising from his seat to incline his head, before reseating back on a small white stone bench.
The well-shaped, slash-marked man has arrived from the north.
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman inclines her head respectfully as she catches sight of the spare,
silvery-blonde templar and the robust, crimson-eyed templar.
The obsidian-skinned woman shakes her head and pulls her pair of elegant red silk shoes with heels
off the ground and onto a small white stone bench.
The well-shaped, slash-marked man nods his head gently toward the spare, silvery-blonde templar as
he passes by.
Turning to a small white stone bench, the spare, silvery-blonde templar asks you, in
northern-accented sirihish:
"Good day. Tell me, out of curiosity...how long have you been seated here?"
Dipping his head once, going on walking along dark road slowly, the robust, crimson-eyed templar
says to the spare, silvery-blonde templar, in an unfamiliar tongue:
"Ar ufpyyo."
The well-shaped, slash-marked man shifts his gazes to the robust, crimson-eyed templar and drops a
gentle nod in that direction.
Blinking a few times behind the silken fabric of his facewrap, you say to the spare, silvery-blonde templar, in sirihish:
"Probably..six hours or so"
Stopping near a small white stone bench, the robust, crimson-eyed templar glances between the
spare, silvery-blonde templar and you.
The well-shaped, slash-marked man has arrived from the west.
Her brow knitted as she turns, the spare, silvery-blonde templar says to the robust, crimson-eyed
templar, in an unfamiliar tongue:
"I ihqydeptoo kise jarg atipe iojuyqojp pa jy."
Offering a firm nod, the robust, crimson-eyed templar asks the spare, silvery-blonde templar, in an
unfamiliar tongue:
"Se jqy shoaioj iujuuog imjeaktup?"
You whisper to the sleek, honey-eyed young woman in sirihish:
"Are you ready? Kot is waiting."
The auburn, charm-tasseled man has arrived from the north.
The auburn, charm-tasseled man walks south.
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman nods gently to you, rising from a small white stone bench.
Hefting under the weight of your sizeable leather backpack, you stand up from a small white stone bench.
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman stands up from a small white stone bench.
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman falls in behind you.
Pausing to glance at the obsidian-skinned woman briefly, the spare, silvery-blonde templar says to
the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in an unfamiliar tongue:
"Nu. Swu ej roeyn. Toy Sewr Mogezups kek pnaieh."
Lifting a hand, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"A moment Serpent."
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman lifts a hand, waving to the obsidian-skinned woman as she remains
by your side.
Softly, holding up a hand, the spare, silvery-blonde templar says to the sleek, honey-eyed young
woman, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Hold."
Lowering your sizeable leather backpack to the ground, breathing heavily, the male wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap bobs his head.
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman dips her head in respect to the spare, silvery-blonde templar,
her gaze lowered reverently toward the ground.
The enormous sun rises above the barren plains in the east.
The obsidian-skinned woman says to the well-shaped, slash-marked man, in southern-accented
sirihish:
"Cadet, if you'd like, I could make it fall to pieces when your trying to bring down those
tembo."
The male wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap lifts an eyebrow, glancing between the spare, silvery-blonde templar and the robust, crimson-eyed templar.
Quitely, the well-shaped, slash-marked man asks the obsidian-skinned woman, in northern-accented
sirihish:
"Shh.. Respect to the Faithfuls'. Dont raise your voice... And what Tembo??"
The robust, crimson-eyed templar strides towards the sleek, honey-eyed young woman, after a glance
to the spare, silvery-blonde templar.
The obsidian-skinned woman glances down the length of a small white stone bench towards the robust,
crimson-eyed templar. After a moment, she settles her back on the well-shaped, slash-marked man.
The male wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap gaze follow the robust, crimson-eyed templar as he progresses to the sleek, honey-eyed young woman, stepping closer to her.
The spare, silvery-blonde templar nods solemnly to the robust, crimson-eyed templar.
With a booming voice, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to the sleek, honey-eyed young woman,
in northern-accented sirihish:
"Come with me Sophie."
Jumping to her feet, the obsidian-skinned woman stands up from a small white stone bench.
Glancing to you, grunting, the robust, crimson-eyed templar exclaims to the sleek, honey-eyed young
woman, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Alone!"
The obsidian-skinned woman beckons towards the well-shaped, slash-marked man.
Furrowing his brows, hesitation in his tone, you ask the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"What is happening Faithful Lord? Maybe I can be of help?"
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
Reaching up to unfasten the linen sling holding the small, blond-haired baby, the sleek, honey-eyed
young woman asks the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in southern-accented sirihish:
"May I give the baby to Serpent, Faithful Lord?"
Quietly, the spare, silvery-blonde templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"This is none of your concern, Serpent. Take the child and leave the Faithful to their
business."
The robust, crimson-eyed man sends you a telepathic message:
"*with dark mist*Not this time Serpent, Not this time."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
Quitely, the well-shaped, slash-marked man says to the obsidian-skinned woman, in northern-accented
sirihish:
"I will be waiting you in Garrison'.. Come with meh now if you want."
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman carefully removes the baby from the linen that hugs her torso and
extends it to you, her features bearing no expression.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar stands near the sleek, honey-eyed young woman rigidly, as baby
changes hands from the sleek, honey-eyed young woman to you.
Her tone quiet as she steps to his side, the sleek, honey-eyed young woman says to the robust,
crimson-eyed templar, in southern-accented sirihish:
"I am ready, Faithful Lord."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar offers a firm nod to the sleek, honey-eyed young woman, motioning
the one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier to stand behind.
His hands shaking, his chest heaving up and down, you say, in sirihish:
"What is going on? We are just leaving.."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar slowly walks along stone road, his reddish gaze set on the sleek,
honey-eyed young woman.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks south.
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman walks south.
The spare, silvery-blonde templar walks south.
The prodigious, purple-skinned half-giant soldier walks south.
The umber-skinned, azure-eyed man walks south.
The sharp-featured human soldier walks south.
A human Tuluki soldier walks south.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier walks south.
The slender, russet-haired man has arrived from the north.
With her arms folded, the obsidian-skinned woman says, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Let us not think about it right now..."
You think:
"What?!"
The delicate, young brunette snickers quietly to herself before walking away.
To you, the obsidian-skinned woman asks, in southern-accented sirihish:
"This is yours, serpent?"
The delicate, young brunette walks west.
The obsidian-skinned woman places her sizeable leather backpack on a small white stone bench.
His hands shaking as he holds the tiny baby in his arms, the male
wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap bobs his head, gaze following southwards.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the robust, crimson-eyed man with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the robust, crimson-eyed man:
"What is happening Faithful Lord?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the spare, silvery-blonde woman with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the spare, silvery-blonde woman:
"What is happening Faithful Lady? Why did you take Sophie?"
You dissolve the psychic link.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the sleek, honey-eyed young woman with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the sleek, honey-eyed young woman:
"Where are they taking you to?"
You dissolve the psychic link.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman sends you a telepathic message:
"I don't know, Love. If you don't see me again, know I love you and tell Sen all about me."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the sleek, honey-eyed young woman with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the sleek, honey-eyed young woman:
"No! If I don't see you again, I am no more too!"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the sinewy, bald-headed man with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the sinewy, bald-headed man:
"Troubles. The trip has to be delayed.. At least one day."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
You slow down and start moving carefully.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The spare, silvery-blonde woman sends you a telepathic message:
"It is unfortunate, good Serpent. But, this woman has deceived you and acted as a spy for the
Black City during her stay here in the Ivory."
You think:
"NO!"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the spare, silvery-blonde woman with the Way.
The spare, silvery-blonde woman sends you a telepathic message:
"It is not even a question. There is absolute proof. But, because she is your mate, if you
wish to come to the Heart and discuss, we will extend you that option."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the spare, silvery-blonde woman:
"I am on my way."
The spare, silvery-blonde woman sends you a telepathic message:
"My Brother and I will meet you at the Gate. Do not come bearing arms. We wish you no ill."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Worried, Serpent ran the familiar way to the Heart. Within minutes, he was there before the giant gates.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the spare, silvery-blonde woman:
"She can't be! She does not know anyone here. She has no access to any information. What
proof is it?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the spare, silvery-blonde woman:
"I am at the gates, Faithful Lady."
You dissolve the psychic link.
The male wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap pats on the small
baby in his arms, knitting his brows.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the spare, silvery-blonde woman:
"I am at the gates of the Heart."
You dissolve the psychic link.
The tall, greying-haired Tuluki soldier opens the gate from the other side.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar has arrived from the north.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the north.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the north.
The tall, greying-haired Tuluki soldier closes the gate from the other side.
Motioning you to follow with a vague wave of his hand, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to
you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Come Serpent, we need to talk."
The young, wavy-haired female soldier opens the gate.
The young, wavy-haired female soldier steps aside, allowing the robust, crimson-eyed templar to
pass.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks north.
You follow the robust, crimson-eyed templar, and walk north.
The Bahamet's Maw Tavern - Main Room [ESU]
Half a dozen tables are scattered throughout this diminutive tavern.
Despite the lack of lavish decor, the bar exudes a feeling of being anything
but paltry. The walls are coated in a layer of vivid tan paint, and
occasionally a framed painting hangs from their glossy surfaces. The
floorstones below are simple squares of red sandstone, haphazardly inlayed
into the level ground. Just above the elongated bar on the northern wall
hangs a luxurious tapestry, the tedious embroidery of a fiery sunburst
stitched onto a white background.
The cramped entrance to the east leads out to a road, while the room
snakes away to the south. A polished baobab staircase is affixed to one end
of the bar to carry patrons to an upper level dormitory.
A wooden-paneled painting sits supported by a miniature bone tripod.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
The plump, reddish-hued templar is standing here.
A stocky, bald-headed bartender stands upright behind the glazed bar.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the east.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the east.
Gesturing a highly polished table with a lift of his single-tasseled, bladed staff, the robust,
crimson-eyed templar asks you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Sit down. Want anything?"
The robust, crimson-eyed templar opens a Jihae-embossed toolbelt.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar gets a pile of allanaki coins from a Jihae-embossed toolbelt.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks towards counter in front of the stocky, bald-headed
bartender.
Putting some coins on counter, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to the stocky, bald-headed
bartender, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Prepare me some bowls of stew and a pint of ale."
His tone quiet, holding the small baby in one arm, you say to the
robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I just want to get Sophie out of here. Nothing else."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
After a glance to baby in your arm, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in
northern-accented sirihish:
"Sit down, babies feel the fear much easier then us."
The stocky, bald-headed bartender trades a bowl of carru-meat stew to the robust, crimson-eyed
templar.
The stocky, bald-headed bartender trades a bowl of carru-meat stew to the robust, crimson-eyed
templar.
The stocky, bald-headed bartender trades a bowl of carru-meat stew to the robust, crimson-eyed
templar.
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
Furrowing his brows, you ask the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in
sirihish:
"Faithful Lady coming?"
You sit at a highly polished table.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar strides towards a highly polished table putting his reddish clay
pint in front of you.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, pushing empty
bowl aside, reaching a full one:
"Do you know what Sophie was doing while she is with you?"
At your table, you say in sirihish, placing your reddish clay pint on a highly polished table:
"Thank you. But I don't need a drink."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"I know. Taking care of the child, preparing food. Nothing else."
You stop using a grey shaded, black face-wrap.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, pushing another
empty bowl, reaching a full bowl:
"You miss a small thing what she was doing."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"I don't think I do. But say it, what is it?"
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, lifting a
ceramic spoon:
"She was using you for protection and spying for Borsail."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"She was -running- away from Borsail. How can she be spying for them?"
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"You are just mistaken.. Borsail wants her dead and you are just doing what they want."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, softly, his
gaze set on you:
"His Faithfuls hear everything including conversations with the Way. You know that very well,
don't you."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"I do. But I am guessing, Borsail is playing a trick here. It must be that way."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, exhaling
softly:
"She was spying for House Borsail during her stay in the Ivory."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"She does not know anyone, is not friend to anyone here. Has no connection, has no access to
any information."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, dipping his
spoon into bowl:
"Tell me Serpent, how can you explain the messages Sophie send via the Way to House Borsail?"
The robust, crimson-eyed templar eats a portion of a bowl of carru-meat stew.
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"In her first day, she had a friend.. Miko, and someone else, that my mind is busy enough that
I can't make the name."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"I told her to cut her friendships as well."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"And she did it."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, his shoulders
raising into a shrug:
"No, actually a rotten Borsail she was information. "
The robust, crimson-eyed templar eats a small portion of a bowl of carru-meat stew.
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"A noble? Tell me his name is Veralius."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Not an aide, not another servant but a rotten Borsail."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, grunting:
"Actually, I just know that rotten blood was a Borsail Lady. Nothing more."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"She was Haadith's aide. I killed Haadith, and Borsail wanted to kill more of what is
Haadith's."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"Sent militia.. Templars on her."
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman sends you a telepathic message:
"She's taken me back to the Sanctuary, Serpent."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"I kidnapped her and we ran away."
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man blinks, furrowing his brows.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, bending forward
towards table:
"Then maybe she was trying to secure her position in the Black City."
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man reaches to his temple, grunting.
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"Can't be. She is still being sought, I am about to just threaten or maybe even kill Veralius
because of this."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"And you are giving them what they want"
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"Now.. She is back in the sanctuary. Why is Faithful Lady not here?"
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, firmly:
"Most Honorful Mistress gave her word, she was in contact with a rotten blood and spying on
the Ivory!"
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Serpent! Hold yourself and think! You do that well.. Very well!"
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"I am thinking, and the more I think, the more you are just doing what Borsail wants. We were
on our way.."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Think what Sophie was doing with you using -your- baby. She was just protecting herself,
nothing else."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Mistress gave her word! Sophie was a spy in contact with rotten Borsail."
At your table, you say in sirihish, wetting his lips, patting the small baby in his arms:
"Now.. I think it is my turn after her, is not it?"
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, after a while
looking at you, wetting his lips before going on:
"Serpent or whatever you call yourself. You are seated with me at a table, and I am trying to
show the true face of Sophie who used your maybe single weakness."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"She saw you want a family, and she gave it to you. Nothing else.. In return she got power and
a lot of coins.. Isn't it?"
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"No."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, grunting:
"Then what? She was using you, and you ignore it."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"The baby.. The family.. All came out of the blue."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the spare, silvery-blonde woman with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the spare, silvery-blonde woman:
"Let us go..Faithful Lady.."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the spare, silvery-blonde woman:
"I will do anything.. For it."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the spare, silvery-blonde woman:
"Just let us go."
You dissolve the psychic link.
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Go! Take Sen! Raise our son! I'm condemned to death! I love you, Serpent!"
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man bites his lower lip, his hand clenching into a fist.
You think:
"They killed Sophie.."
You think:
"Now is my turn.."
You think:
"So long.. it has been."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"She gave you what you wanted, and expected power and coins in return."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, glancing down
to your hand then baby in your arm:
"Seems she succeeded."
At your table, you say in sirihish, pressing his lips together,
his voice trembling:
"Until she was arrested by Sarador, she got nothing.. asked nothing of me."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"And even then.. She did not ask. But I did."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, grunting:
"She was using you as a cover while she is spying for the Borsail.."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"Alright.. Now.. Let's think about it. What does Borsail give her in return, while she is a
foreingner here?"
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"Who does she have as a friend when she is here?"
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"What kind of a spying is it? No payment? No access?"
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, with a raise of
his broad shoulders:
"Probably Borsail offered to make her stay in the Black City safe. As you said she can not
walk in the Black City safetly, unless she does jobs for the Borsail and the cursed templarate."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"Borsail did? Well.. They did not do it hard enough then, since.. I was still planning to
kill one of their numbers because of it."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, rubbing his
eyes as he speaks in a quiet tune:
"In any case, Sophie was spying for the Borsail with the unspoken way while she was living in
the Ivory under my protection. "
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, lifting his
head, with a tired voice:
"Are you speaking with Sophie with the Way right now?"
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"No."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, his reddish
gaze set on you:
"You know what is inevitable, don't you."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
At your table, you say in sirihish, pursing his lips:
"I can see what is going to happen to me as well."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, tilting his
head to a side:
"What will happen to you?"
The short, scar-faced man sends you a telepathic message:
"Hey, Chief! You arrived Nak?"
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the short, scar-faced man:
"I am going to die.. So.. Enjoy your time with the crew."
You dissolve the psychic link.
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man sighs tiredly, patting the tiny baby wordlessly.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The short, scar-faced man sends you a telepathic message:
"What does that mean, Serpent? I still need your assistance."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, glancing down
to baby in your arm:
"Must be interesting that feeling. Watching it slowly growing up."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the short, scar-faced man with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the short, scar-faced man:
"Well, it does not mean a lot does it? I am in Tuluk, templarate here want a little blood, and
I will give them that."
The short, scar-faced man sends you a telepathic message:
"Don't do anything insane, Boss. Try to convince them, bribe them.."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the short, scar-faced man:
"Leave it to me. You mind your own crew fuck it. Since when am I being lectured by my
underlings?"
You dissolve the psychic link.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, lifting his
gaze, staring at you:
"You will be with your child while he is growing up, don't you want that?"
At your table, you say in sirihish, scratching his neck:
"Well I wanted some more things but I guess it does not matter much what I want, does it?"
The short, scar-faced man sends you a telepathic message:
"I'm sorry, Boss. I said that, because I care about you. I'm sure, other bosses care about you
too."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the short, scar-faced man with the Way.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Actually it really matters. When our conversation is over, I wonder what you will do first?"
At your table, you say in sirihish, pursing his lips:
"Well.. I wonder that as well."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the short, scar-faced man:
"Oh don't go emotional, or I will kick your ass. Go Effen and say that his mugs were all
fucked up.. Well.. Most of them. And mind your own business."
You dissolve the psychic link.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Leave the Ivory..? or... Find someone decent to take of the child.. or maybe risk your and
that baby's life unneccesarily? "
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Why don't you let me personally take care of your bady?"
The short, scar-faced man sends you a telepathic message:
"I -will- be emotional. Come down here and kick my ass for it."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Until grows up to age three or four.. or anytime you want. He will taken care as good as
younglings from Great Houses of the Ivory."
The short, scar-faced man sends you a telepathic message:
"Why don't you come here and tell that to him yourself? I don't think Effen likes me more than
a bug on his bar."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"If there is any need of it, well.. It can work."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"You are his father, you will decide if there is a need or not."
You think:
"Oh..fuck.. Go mind your own business damn it!"
The short, scar-faced man sends you a telepathic message:
"Tell me, who's gonna kill you, Chief."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the short, scar-faced man with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the short, scar-faced man:
"Did not I tell you to mind your own business? Piss off."
You dissolve the psychic link.
The short, scar-faced man sends you a telepathic message:
"If that's what your order is. I wish you can get through it too, and come here to kick my
ass."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man stares blankly at your sizeable leather backpack.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Well, actually I visit younglings almost every week once. There are two children of Tamara
and Garrity who are growing up quickly. "
You think:
"Tamara..Tikuri's sister.."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, softly:
"Eh, if you leave your child, I can be sure he is in good hands as well."
You think:
"Oh.. Everything seems so difficult now."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man's face looks paler for a moment, exhaling a soft sigh.
The sinewy, bald-headed man sends you a telepathic message:
"Feel like making that trip soon?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the sinewy, bald-headed man with the Way.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, softly:
"Sophie is no more Serpent and you will continue your life. Like you did after Falka who has
fallen with a foul trick."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the sinewy, bald-headed man:
"Troubles. I am not sure. If you have other business, go about it."
The sinewy, bald-headed man sends you a telepathic message:
"Alright. I'll be around. Let me know."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"Foul trick?"
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, grunting:
"A kind of cursed magickal trick as I recall from reports."
At your table, you say in sirihish, softly:
"Is Faithful lady coming here?"
You dissolve the psychic link.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, with a shake of
his head:
"I guess she has returned to her studies. What did you wish to speak with Faithful Lady?"
You think:
"Maybe I should just try to kill her?"
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The sinewy, bald-headed man sends you a telepathic message:
"Don't usually make a point of getting involved in other folks business, but I just saw a
templar carrying Miss out the gate. Just figured you should know, if you didn't already."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, wetting his
lips before going on:
"Serpent?"
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man tilts his head, his dark eyes staring at the robust, crimson-eyed templar blankly.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, grunting:
"What is passing through your mind Serpent?"
At your table, you say in sirihish, knitting his brows thoughtfully:
"Lots of things.. and nothing."
You think:
"If only I could see her now."
You think:
"Everything would be easier."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, gazing the
polished surface of wooden table for a moment, then chuckling softly:
"Then, when will you tell me of your plans.. until that time, seems we will be seated on those
chairs. "
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"My plans? I don't have any plan."
The ruddy, purple-bearded man sends you a telepathic message:
"Ahh, Serpent. I don't think we've been formally introduced. I'm Lord Templar Mazlaen Fale,
of the War Ministry."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the ruddy, purple-bearded man with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the ruddy, purple-bearded man:
"Well met then, Lord Templar."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"What do you mean you do not have any plan? You are leading a powerful group and you have a
child to grow, surely you must have plans."
At your table, you say in sirihish, softly:
"In better words, I had some plans. But they are ruined now at the moment."
The ruddy, purple-bearded man sends you a telepathic message:
"I offer my approval at the death of that **censored**. If anything else of note happens
in the Northlands, I'll have your underlings compensated for passing the information along."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar bobs his head absently a few times, his gaze standing at you.
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the ruddy, purple-bearded man:
"My pleasure, Lord Templar. I will see what I can do. And Scar, the one now taking care of
the crew will be in contact with you."
You dissolve the psychic link.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, steadying his
posture:
"Do you need time for making new plans Serpent?"
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"Seems like it."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"What About your child?"
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"He will share my fate."
You think:
"It is meaningless."
You think:
"I just want to kill... Just want to kill.."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, his gaze
falling down to polished surface of wooden table:
"And your possible fate is..?"
You think:
"Where is Eunoli when I need her?"
At your table, you say in sirihish, lifts his shoulders into an exhausted shrug:
"We will see."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"I don't know yet myself."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, hitting the
table with his fist loudly with voice of cracking wood:
"WHAT FOOLISHNESS IS THIS?"
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"YOU ARE A GOOD DAMM LEADER OF A GANG!"
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, his voice
echoing through tavern:
"YOU TELL ME YOU ARE LOST OF YOUR MIND BECAUSE OF A WOMAN YOU KNOW FOR WHAT.. A COUPLE OF
YEARS!"
The robust, crimson-eyed templar staring at the plump, reddish-hued templar direction, exhaling
softly.
At your table, you say in sirihish, patting the baby in his arms, his tone soft:
"I think I know pretty much what I am, Faithful Lord. We don't need to go over that."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"But it is not often.."
Offering a firm nod, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to the plump, reddish-hued templar, in
northern-accented sirihish:
"I do apologize High Templar."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"That my plans gets ruined. I am a little.. Surprised."
Motioning you to raise with a wave of his hand, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in
northern-accented sirihish:
"Come."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar stands up from a highly polished table.
You stand up from a highly polished table.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar strides along the crowded tavern with long steps.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks east.
You follow the robust, crimson-eyed templar, and walk east.
Way of Acquisition [NSW]
Smoothed chunks of fire-blackened stone make up the walkway of this
cobbled road. Just to the east, walls of sturdy wooden logs are nailed
together to form a steadfast barrier between the street and the massive
pyramid enclosed within. The road is rather minute in width, its
overshadowing western wall adding to its tiny appearance. Although the path
seems rather new, the surface of each of the durable stones is marred by the
imperfection of wheel marks and the occasional stain.
A break in the wall to the west reveals the awning-covered entryway to
a bustling tavern. Just above the leather-reinforced canvas awning, a
wooden carving hangs from the building to depict the visage of a beady-eyed
bahamet.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the west.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the west.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks south.
You follow the robust, crimson-eyed templar, and walk south.
Street of the Blazing Fist [NE]
Round-edged plates of red sandstone have been placed together to form
this road. An occasional slab bears the faint etching of a sunburst, though
they are otherwise undecorated. A pair of walls hamper movement in the two
cardinal directions, and the tip of a pyramidal object can be seen just over
the towering northern barrier. Scatterings of greyish grass sprout up from
between various pieces of the road below, struggling to survive amidst the
dusty surface.
Mirroring the corner of the pyramid, the road takes a jutting turn
from the east to the north here. The wall surrounding the pyramid seems
sunken at this point, allowing glimpses of the sleek grey marble structure.
A smooth statue of sculpted stone stands here upon a thin circle.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the north.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the north.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks east.
You follow the robust, crimson-eyed templar, and walk east.
Street of the Blazing Fist [EW]
Round-edged plates of red sandstone have been placed together to form
this road. An occasional slab bears the faint etching of a sunburst, though
they are otherwise undecorated. A pair of walls hamper movement in the two
cardinal directions, and the tip of a pyramidal object can be seen just over
the towering northern barrier. Scatterings of greyish grass sprout up from
between various pieces of the road below, struggling to survive amidst the
dusty surface.
Pink-mottled red fruit clings to the sides of a thorny vine that
creeps over the northern wall. The vine dangles precariously from atop the
wall, still clearing the ground by multiple cords.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the west.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the west.
Shrugging, you say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I won't need it anymore. Someone else can take the pack."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks east.
You follow the robust, crimson-eyed templar, and walk east.
Tembo Pass [NESW]
A pair of matching gates looms just to the north, their height
slightly dwarfed when compared to the ones above. A gate-tower remains
elevated in the air above this road, the patrolling of which can be heard
constantly through day or night. Lightly speckled grey plants lead
alongside the road to the east, while to the west the colors of the blossoms
are much more vivid and appear to be more taken care of.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
A tall, greying-haired Tuluki soldier stands here, guarding the southern gate.
A lean, tattooed Jihaen slave is here cleaning the streets.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the west.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the west.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks north.
You follow the robust, crimson-eyed templar, and walk north.
Chakal's Gateway [NS]
Brilliant banners hang from the eastern and western guardtowers,
stopping just short of a gargantuan wooden gateway. The pair of tapestries
depict scenes of battle, their detailed stitchwork capturing each crimson
droplet of blood as Tuluki soldiers massacre the southlands militia. Rows
of vibrantly-hued blossoms have been planted to lead up to the gate, over
which the glistening tip of a pyramid can be seen.
A scattering of wildflowers lies drifted through the grass.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
A stout, scruffy-haired male soldier blocks the northern gateway.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the south.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the south.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar gets a thornwood and leather keyring from a Jihae-embossed
toolbelt.
The prim, midnight-haired man sends you a telepathic message:
"So we never had that little chat a couple months ago, as we had planned..."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar slings a single-tasseled, bladed staff across his back.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar holds a thornwood and leather keyring.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar searches through a thornwood and leather keyring.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar unlocks the gate with a knob-ended baobab key.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar exclaims to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"I will do something for you!"
The stout, scruffy-haired male soldier steps aside, allowing the robust, crimson-eyed templar to
pass.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks north.
You follow the robust, crimson-eyed templar, and walk north.
Within Piory's Yard [NESW]
The saplings of purple and grey-barked trees are no match to the sheer
height of the marble pyramid that dominates this yard. Standing with an
enormous stature, the pyramid's greyish marble walls elegantly taper up to a
statue-tipped point. Scattered around the base of the pyramid are various
beds of lush blossoms, their colors appearing vibrantly-hued in contrast
with the dreary building. Just near the wooden gateway to the pyramid, a
lush strip of rosebushes sprawl towards the door.
A gigantic, grey-marble pyramid overshadows the rest of the yard.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
A bulging, wide-lipped man sits toying with some needles.
A Jihaen slave stands here, caring for the plants.
The braided, hook-nosed templar is standing here.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the south.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the south.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar closes the gate.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the prim, midnight-haired man with the Way.
Firmly, the robust, crimson-eyed templar exclaims to a Jihaen slave, in northern-accented
sirihish:
"Come here!"
The robust, crimson-eyed templar asks a Jihaen slave for assistance, but he refuses.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the prim, midnight-haired man:
"Oh.. There is not any more need for it. As your target is dead already."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar dips his head once as a Jihaen slave approaches.
The prim, midnight-haired man sends you a telepathic message:
"...she is... *surprise*"
The burning sun rises high into the sky, searing the earth.
The red orb of Jihae, the red moon, begins to vanish as it slowly sets.
The prim, midnight-haired man sends you a telepathic message:
"When?"
Gesturing a Jihaen slave, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented
sirihish:
"Give your child to this slave, or you will ruin yourself without a sudden anger."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the prim, midnight-haired man:
"It does not matter much, I guess. But right.. I am as much surprised."
The prim, midnight-haired man sends you a telepathic message:
"It does matter, a great deal."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the prim, midnight-haired man:
"Time.. Does not matter I meant."
The prim, midnight-haired man sends you a telepathic message:
"The time does."
The prim, midnight-haired man sends you a telepathic message:
"When did it happen?"
Tilting his head, you ask the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in
sirihish:
"Why?"
The robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"You will always able to ask your child back, but I insist him to stay here at least a
month."
The use of the Way drains you.
Shaking his head, you say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"No. I don't want to part with anyone else at the moment. You can keep me along with the
child if you want."
You shrug.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"You seem to have nothing to lose right now. After years of effort, I can not even imagine how
you manage to dig a hole in the filth you born, you seem to lost everything within yourself."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the prim, midnight-haired man:
"Today.. Or was it yesterday? I am losing the track of time."
The prim, midnight-haired man sends you a telepathic message:
".....today.....by...who?"
Pointing baby with a slender finger, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in
northern-accented sirihish:
"That's a baby and needs attention, on the other hand you need time to think what you have
done so far. "
The short templar wearing a thin veil of white silk opens the gate from the other side.
The short templar wearing a thin veil of white silk has arrived from the south.
The umber-skinned, azure-eyed man has arrived from the south.
The sharp-featured human soldier has arrived from the south.
The short templar wearing a thin veil of white silk closes the gate.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks east.
You follow the robust, crimson-eyed templar, and walk east.
In a Small Corner of a Garden [NW]
Pymlithe saplings are planted in variegated rows along this tight
strip of the garden. Nearly all of the flora that thrives within the
surrounding area seems to be in the earliest stages of their growth. The
vividly-colored blossoms of the roses strewn about are on the brink of
spreading open, though each stem's jade hue stands out stiffly above the
flowerbed. A few rounded slabs of red sandstone create a path throughout
the underlying greb grass' dark violet cascade.
Just beneath the row of trees planted in the southeastern corner of
the garden lies a cozy wooden bench, its seat covered with a pair of linen
cushions.
A shadow falls over the area, driving off the uncomfortable heat.
A wylrith tree stubbornly flourishes, its leaves forming a shaded canopy above the ground.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
The short templar wearing a thin veil of white silk has arrived from the west.
The umber-skinned, azure-eyed man has arrived from the west.
The sharp-featured human soldier has arrived from the west.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the west.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the west.
The short templar wearing a thin veil of white silk walks west.
The umber-skinned, azure-eyed man walks west.
The sharp-featured human soldier walks west.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the prim, midnight-haired man:
"Tuluk.. Public execution."
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man glances westward sharply.
You dissolve the psychic link.
You think:
"Slipped.. Missed my chance."
You hear a woman's voice shout from the west in northern-accented sirihish:
"Sorry to disturb, Brother."
The prim, midnight-haired man sends you a telepathic message:
"....by the Hi- *his thoughts are cut off abruptly as the link snaps shut*"
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man's chest heaves up and down, a hand reaching to his temple.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The prim, midnight-haired man sends you a telepathic message:
"*guardedly* You and I need to have that chat."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar exclaims to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"High Templar Eunoli will not join us!"
The prim, midnight-haired man sends you a telepathic message:
"Send an emissary if you don't trust me after that stunt you pulled by smuggling her out of
Allanak."
Pursing his lips, exhaustion in his words, you say to the robust,
crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Can I go then? I have a long way to south."
With a shake of his head, firmly, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in
northern-accented sirihish:
"No, as I said I insist your baby to stay. You are not in good mood for taking care of this
baby. "
Softly, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Serpent, this is best for your child."
You say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"My organisation will take care of him."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar puts a thornwood and leather keyring inside a Jihae-embossed
toolbelt.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Serpent, let the baby stay."
The prim, midnight-haired man sends you a telepathic message:
"But this cannot be discussed over the Way."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
Grunting, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"At least let your baby to be taken care of in decent conditions."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
".. at least for a couple of months."
Shaking his head, you say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in
sirihish:
"My organisation takes care of many babies. And this one will be looked over specially."
You say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I will keep him."
The sun reaches its highest point in the sky.
The small, blond baby starts to wail in the pale-faced,
serpent-tattooed man's arms.
Softly, you say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Let us go."
Leaning aganist a thin, canopied wylrith tree, the robust, crimson-eyed templar asks you, in
northern-accented sirihish:
"You do understand me right?"
You say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I think I do."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar asks you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Do you understand your position in my eyes?"
You ask the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"What does it have to do with the baby?"
The robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"With that baby in under my protection, I will be sure you will not do anything with a sudden
anger of yours.. And I guess results of your anger could be .. very harmful."
Shaking his head, after a moment of thought, you say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"There is no way.. I am parting with him."
Stepping close to you, lifting his head to face, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in
northern-accented sirihish:
"Why don't you leave him with me. Surely he will spend a couple of better months then in a
place full of hunger, thievery and brutallity."
Lowering your leather waterskin from his lips, his tone calm, you
say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I take good care of what is mine. So long..."
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man presses his lips together,
shutting his mouth tightly.
His lips curling up slightly, the robust, crimson-eyed templar asks you, in northern-accented
sirihish:
"So if I insist to keep your baby, you wish to stay with him right?"
Without a word, the pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man stares at
the robust, crimson-eyed templar blankly.
His arms folded on his chest, the robust, crimson-eyed templar stares at you .
You think:
"I am getting tired."
In a calm tone, you ask the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in
sirihish:
"You are not letting me go?"
Softly, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"How damm important you are."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
Pursing his lips, you say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in
sirihish:
"Seriously, I am not sure. Depends on who is asking I guess."
The short, scar-faced man sends you a telepathic message:
"What's the deal you had with Juye, Boss?"
Scratching his hair under his red silk hood, slowly walking along the path in garden, the robust,
crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Well, for me at least."
Turning back for a moment, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented
sirihish:
"You are a smart person.. very smart I must say."
The short, scar-faced man sends you a telepathic message:
"I don't know if you're in the condition to reply me, but she told me that I need to ask you
about it."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the short, scar-faced man with the Way.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"On the other hand, I am not quite sure of how good you are controling your emotions."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the short, scar-faced man:
"There is a merchant to be killed. On the miner's road. The cloth seller. In one month, the
job should be done."
The short, scar-faced man sends you a telepathic message:
"How much is the bounty on their head?"
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
Kneeling near a flower bush, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented
sirihish:
"Seems that spy manage to seduce and .. control you to some degree."
The late, red sun descends toward the western horizon.
The pale orb of the white moon, Lirathu, vanishes as it slowly sets.
With an exasperated sigh, you say to the robust, crimson-eyed
templar, in sirihish:
"It is not doing any progress at all. I am really tired. Just do what you want to do
Faithful Lord. Or let me go."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Unless I am convienced you are going to dig the sour of that spy, I can not let you leave."
Grunting, the robust, crimson-eyed templar exclaims to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Look at yourself Serpent, you are not even caring of your life!"
The robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"You even know you may not leave this place alive, you still do not care about it."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"That's why I ask for the child. At least there will be something you care for."
You say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Truly, I have not thought much about my life for quite a long time. Longer than I know you,
I think."
Shaking his head, you say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in
sirihish:
"The child stays with me, and the only way to part with him is taking him off my dead
fingers."
Reaching long shaft of his single-tasseled, bladed staff, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to
you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Then make my decision easier if you do not care about your life a bit."
You think:
"If he reaches for the baby.."
You think:
"I will first kill my son.. Then kill him.."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar unslings a single-tasseled, bladed staff from his back.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar stops using a serrated, ivory longknife.
Offering his serrated, ivory longknife from its hilt, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you,
in northern-accented sirihish:
"If you do not want to live, take this and end you life. As you said, seems we are not making
an progress here."
Spreading his empty hand, his other arm holding the baby, you say
to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I want to go. That is what I said. And I will take the child with me. If you want to kill
me, or take the child, I am not going to try persuading you otherwise."
You say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"But I am not parting with the baby."
The hilt of his serrated, ivory longknife standing close to your, the robust, crimson-eyed templar
asks you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Serpent, will you continue doing your business?"
The robust, crimson-eyed templar asks you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Will you able to get your emotions out and continue you to make business with His
Faithfuls?"
The last rays of the red sun fade over the Grey Forest.
The scarlet face of Jihae rises, staring down from the sky.
With an exasperated sigh, you say to the robust, crimson-eyed
templar, in sirihish:
"I am.. really.. tired Faithful Lord. Can we discuss this later? Either let me go, or kill
me.. Or do something. But please end this for now."
Slowly sliding his serrated, ivory longknife to a sheath on his Jihae-embossed toolbelt, the
robust, crimson-eyed templar asks you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Are you, two leaving for the Black City?"
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks west.
You follow the robust, crimson-eyed templar, and walk west.
Within Piory's Yard [NESW]
The saplings of purple and grey-barked trees are no match to the sheer
height of the marble pyramid that dominates this yard. Standing with an
enormous stature, the pyramid's greyish marble walls elegantly taper up to a
statue-tipped point. Scattered around the base of the pyramid are various
beds of lush blossoms, their colors appearing vibrantly-hued in contrast
with the dreary building. Just near the wooden gateway to the pyramid, a
lush strip of rosebushes sprawl towards the door.
A gigantic, grey-marble pyramid overshadows the rest of the yard.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
A bulging, wide-lipped man sits toying with some needles.
A Jihaen slave stands here, caring for the plants.
The braided, hook-nosed templar is standing here.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the east.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the east.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar slings a single-tasseled, bladed staff across his back.
Offering a firm nod, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to the braided, hook-nosed templar, in
northern-accented sirihish:
"High Templar."
Holding the baby in his arms securely, you say, in sirihish:
"Seems like it."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar gets a thornwood and leather keyring from a Jihae-embossed
toolbelt.
Reaching a key on his thornwood and leather keyring, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you,
in northern-accented sirihish:
"Leave this week."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar holds a thornwood and leather keyring.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar searches through a thornwood and leather keyring.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar unlocks the gate with a knob-ended baobab key.
Gesturing baby in your arm, the robust, crimson-eyed templar asks you, in northern-accented
sirihish:
"What is his name?"
You say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Sen Hiatus. Sophie put his name."
Stepping close to baby, his lips slightly curled up, the robust, crimson-eyed templar asks you, in
northern-accented sirihish:
"Sen Hiatus.. Does it have a meaning?"
The robust, crimson-eyed templar puts a thornwood and leather keyring inside a Jihae-embossed
toolbelt.
You say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Sen.. Was what people used to call me when I was a kid. And Hiatus means "disruption".
Well.. Because he was a disturbing one."
A faded smile touched on his lips, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in
northern-accented sirihish:
"Beatiful name. He is growning up close to weapons.. He will be tough."
Slowly walking towards large wooden gates, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in
northern-accented sirihish:
"I would hope he to speak smooth Sirihish though."
You send a telepathic message to the sinewy, bald-headed man:
"Two of us.. And the baby.. We should progress on the trip as soon as possible."
You say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"As smooth as mine."
You say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Or more like a southsider.. I am not sure."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The sinewy, bald-headed man sends you a telepathic message:
"Sounds good. Where should we meet?"
Chuckling softly, raising his head from baby to you, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says, in
northern-accented sirihish:
"At least I can understand what you can, unlike other labyrinth born."
Softly, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Leave the Ivory this week, without leaving your weapons from your sheath."
You think:
"We will see."
You say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I will go to south. As soon."
Softly, the robust, crimson-eyed templar asks you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Should I give you a soldier to assist you?"
Rubbing his pointed chin, the robust, crimson-eyed templar asks you, in northern-accented
sirihish:
"Can not you make this week Serpent?"
You say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I can."
You say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"And I will."
Softly, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"I would appreciate it."
You fasten a grey shaded, black face-wrap across your face.
Holding the tiny baby securely in his hands, the male wearing a
grey shaded, black face-wrap inclines his head to the robust, crimson-eyed templar.
Lifting his hand, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"I bid you a safe travel."
His gaze passing to baby, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says, in northern-accented sirihish:
"And you as well Sen."
The male wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap silently, slips through the darkened streets, disappearing into the crowds.
You slow down and start moving carefully.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
His thoughts weak, he just let his feet carry him. After a short while, Serpent met his guide to the south.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
His tone soft as a whisper, to the small blond baby in his arms,
you say, in sirihish:
"I will take care of you, Sen.. I will."
You think:
"I would just kill you.."
You think:
"Eunoli.."
You think:
"Or try at least."
You think:
"Fuck."
The sinewy, bald-headed man raises the hood of a dusty hooded, grey sandcloth windcloak.
The very short figure in a dusty hooded, grey sandcloth windcloak slips a hand within his cloak,
and rummages through his belt.
His tone calm, you ask the very short figure in a dusty hooded,
grey sandcloth windcloak, in sirihish:
"Do we have to wait for the daybreak?"
The very short figure in a dusty hooded, grey sandcloth windcloak says to you, in sirihish:
"Nope. Wouldn't recommend crossing the Red Desert at night, but that's a ways off."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
They made it to Allanak without an incident. They parted their ways and Serpent once more was home. He traveled the alleys he has lived in for so long, his son crying in his arms.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dead End [NE]
You are standing in the middle of a poverty-stricken alley, the
Highlord's chamberpot of human life. All about you, piled against
dilapidated stone buildings, are piles of garbage, excrement, and the
occasional corpse -- or perhaps that's simply a sleeping child -- that
gather here. The sky above, what is visible of its dome through the
blood-tinged air rank with foul scents, shines less brightly upon you, the
sun's rays blocked out by the tall cracked structures of crumbling red
stone, buildings which give this alley a claustrophobic feel, despite its
being quite wide.
This alleyway ends here. To the west the grey stone of the outer wall
of Allanak is visible above the piles of trash and debris piled up against
it. A narrow doorway is visible along the north row of buildings. The only
other visible exit leads eastwards.
Matron Verwolin's Orphanage [S]
Within the sanctuary of this small building, the air is heady with the
smells of molding laundry, feces, ammonia and the ancient reek of the
Labyrinth itself. It has been recently cleared of the sand, trash and
debris that once littered this place. The building is in terrible
disrepair, but apparently now serves as a shelter for the hordes of homeless
children in Allanak. A small cooking fire burns near the back of the
building near which lies a large pile of soiled laundry. A small number of
bruised and dirty children live and thrive here, some play quietly, while
others sit listessly.
The ancient, green-eyed woman stands hunched over the fire.
A grimy, shaggy-haired urchin crouches in the shadows.
The bulky, grim-faced man is here, disciplining the children.
Holding the baby in his arms, the pale-faced, serpent-tattooed
man walks over the fire, crouching next to the ancient, green-eyed woman.
Patting the baby softly, you say to the ancient, green-eyed woman, in sirihish:
"Hello Matron. Long time no see."
The ancient, green-eyed woman glances up at you.
The ancient, green-eyed woman's eyes shift to the baby in your arms.
You say to the ancient, green-eyed woman, in sirihish:
"I have something that I want you to keep. And raise for me."
Spitting to one side before speaking, the ancient, green-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Eh, alright. Won't be much good for a couple years yet. I'l get one'a the older brats to
watch it."
The ancient, green-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"But I'll need somethin' for its upkeep."
Wetting his lips, you say to the ancient, green-eyed woman, in
sirihish:
"I want him to be raised.. With a special care matron. He is not one of the other brats."
You say to the ancient, green-eyed woman, in sirihish:
"You will get a special upkeep for him as well."
You say to the ancient, green-eyed woman, in sirihish:
"I mean.. You will get special -something- for his upkeep."
You ask the ancient, green-eyed woman, in sirihish:
"Do we understand each other?"
One eye squinted, the ancient, green-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Every month? I'll treat 'im good enough if it's worth it."
You say to the ancient, green-eyed woman, in sirihish:
"You name what it is worth then."
The baby starts wailing again, squirming in your arms.
You say to the ancient, green-eyed woman, in sirihish:
"I will come and see him once in every two weeks."
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man pats softly to the back of the baby, exhaling a soft sigh.
The ancient, green-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Well then, give me what you think he's worth an' when you come to check you decide if you're
gettin' what you paid for."
The ancient, green-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Can't say any fairer than that."
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man bobs his head, passing the baby to the ancient, green-eyed woman.
You get a pile of allanaki coins from a bone-studded backpack.
There were 1000 coins.
It is very light.
The ancient, green-eyed woman takes the baby into her arms, gently rocking it until the cries
subside.
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man takes a few coin pouches from your bone-studded backpack, tossing one of them to the ancient, green-eyed woman.
You ask the ancient, green-eyed woman, in sirihish:
"Looks good enough?"
Looking the baby over then glancing back to you, the ancient, green-eyed woman says to you, in
sirihish:
"This poor thing's half starved, I better feed it."
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man absently, tosses another
coin pouch to the ancient, green-eyed woman, bobbing his head.
His tone quiet, you say to the ancient, green-eyed woman, in
sirihish:
"Alright.. You know what to do with him."
The ancient, green-eyed woman slips the coins into a pocket, carrying the baby off with a nod.
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man furrows his brows, staring
at the fire thoughtfully.
You think:
"Should I just go and attempt killing Eunoli now?"
You think:
"Nah.. Does not worth half the trouble."
You think:
"I will think of something, when the time is right."
The ancient, green-eyed woman moves over to the fire, holding the baby in the crook of one arm and
taking a small bowl of mushy gruel in the other.
Staring blankly at the fire, you say to the ancient, green-eyed
woman, in sirihish:
"I will be going.. Guess I will have some business to do in the alleys. You take care of the
kid."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
Turning toward the doorway, his empty hand reaching to the hilt
of your sharp, well-balanced bone halfsword, you say to the ancient, green-eyed woman, in
sirihish:
"I will come check him in two weeks."
Dead End [NE]
You are standing in the middle of a poverty-stricken alley, the
Highlord's chamberpot of human life. All about you, piled against
dilapidated stone buildings, are piles of garbage, excrement, and the
occasional corpse -- or perhaps that's simply a sleeping child -- that
gather here. The sky above, what is visible of its dome through the
blood-tinged air rank with foul scents, shines less brightly upon you, the
sun's rays blocked out by the tall cracked structures of crumbling red
stone, buildings which give this alley a claustrophobic feel, despite its
being quite wide.
This alleyway ends here. To the west the grey stone of the outer wall
of Allanak is visible above the piles of trash and debris piled up against
it. A narrow doorway is visible along the north row of buildings. The only
other visible exit leads eastwards.
The obsidian-skinned woman sends you a telepathic message:
"I am sorry for the loss."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The news of Sophie's death traveled as fast as Serpent did. Within moments, Mazlaen Fale was in his mind
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The ruddy, purple-bearded man sends you a telepathic message:
"So I here Haadith has only recently been executed, Serpent."
The ruddy, purple-bearded man sends you a telepathic message:
"It sounds like there's about to be a blood bath. A Guild blood bath. Unless I get some
answers."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the ruddy, purple-bearded man with the Way.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The obsidian-skinned woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Serpent, you should make your way to Allanak as soon as possiable."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the ruddy, purple-bearded man:
"Answer? What is the question?"
The obsidian-skinned woman sends you a telepathic message:
"I am here and I need someone to tell a story to a Tempalar here."
The obsidian-skinned woman sends you a telepathic message:
"I will wait for you in Allanak."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The obsidian-skinned woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Tell the templars of Allanak how they killed Sophie"
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
The ruddy, purple-bearded man sends you a telepathic message:
"Previously it was claimed that the Guild was responsible for killing Haadith, but it's been
proven that.. such.. just simply isn't true. Someone's been lying to a Red Robe, Serpent."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the ruddy, purple-bearded man:
"I have killed him, myself.. With my very own blade."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the ruddy, purple-bearded man:
"What makes you think it is not so?"
The ruddy, purple-bearded man sends you a telepathic message:
"Then Sophie and two others -weren't- recently executed in the Northlands?"
The ruddy, purple-bearded man sends you a telepathic message:
"Haadith's belongings weren't destroyed publically in the North? All my sources are full of
shit, are they?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the ruddy, purple-bearded man:
"Sophie has been executed. Haadith's belongings are destroyed. What does it make at all?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the ruddy, purple-bearded man:
"Haadith is killed by me, in the labyrinth."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the ruddy, purple-bearded man:
"In the westside."
The ruddy, purple-bearded man sends you a telepathic message:
"What of this Renali fellow?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the ruddy, purple-bearded man:
"Who cares if Sophie had Haadith's belongings.. And ran away to Tuluk"
You think:
"I do."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the ruddy, purple-bearded man:
"Reneli? Well.. She has nothing about anything. She was just Veralius' concubine."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the ruddy, purple-bearded man:
"I could enlighten you a little bit about Veralius and all, but it gets a little nifty there.
We paid for this information, and if we get what we paid for, we can pass it to you of course."
You dissolve the psychic link.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Thus ended the remains of Haadith. However it sparkled the taste of revenge on the crime lord. He was uncertain how to start, but first, he had a lot of work to built back the damaged relations of his organisations.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Submitter's note:
Staying in a foreign city started to show its unpleasant face.
Sophie could not get to talk to anyone. Nor did Serpent have much
of a control over his...
Continue Reading...The Criminal, part V: Questionable Safety
Added on Mar 23, 2007A few weeks passed since their arrival. Sophie and the baby she had with her was threatened by a "licenced assassin" in Sanctuary, which made Serpent doubt the granted safety.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Submitter's note:
A few weeks passed since their arrival. Sophie and the baby she had with her was threatened by a "licenced assassin" in Sanctuary, which made Serpent doubt the granted safety.
P.S: I have edited the log many times, deleting some passages of conversations, mindtalks, and some emotes and I have also replaced some names/actions as **censored** to avoid passing some information that better kept as it is. I hope you find it a good read.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Pak-Curachek Road [NEW]
Bordered on either side by towering walls that spire upwards of ten
cords, this road runs east and west between the Templars' Quarter and the
Nobles' Quarter. Bones, dried and specially treated, have been set into the
ground to form a complexly woven path of isilt. The road is kept free of
dust and other debris as it makes its way through the city.
A pair of high-flying banners drape over the topmost portion of each
of these gates. On the left side, an enormous depiction of the reddish moon
of Jihae. Opposite to that is its stark white counterpart, Lirathu. The
vertical gate is a staggering ten cords tall, an insurmountable obstacle for
even the most skilled of climbers. The gate is made of interlocking
rectangles of a polished hardwood, with a series of close-set obsidian
spikes lining the very top of each half. A row of half a dozen smoothed
ivory torch-holders flank the sides of the gateway, ensuring a reasonably
brightly lit entryway no matter what the hour.
The Pak-Curachek road continues to the east and west.
A young, wavy-haired female soldier stoically guards the northern gate.
The beefy, grey-skinned dwarf is standing here, bleeding heavily.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the robust, crimson-eyed man with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the robust, crimson-eyed man:
"I am at the gates."
The tall, greying-haired Tuluki soldier opens the gate from the other side.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar has arrived from the north.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the north.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the north.
The tall, greying-haired Tuluki soldier closes the gate from the other side.
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man inclines his head to the
robust, crimson-eyed templar.
Standing in front of large wooden gates, dipping his head casually, the robust, crimson-eyed
templar says to you, in an unfamiliar tongue:
"Caro."
The young, wavy-haired female soldier opens the gate.
The young, wavy-haired female soldier steps aside, allowing the robust, crimson-eyed templar to
pass.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks north.
You follow the robust, crimson-eyed templar, and walk north.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
They walk in the Heart, in silence Frustration visible on one, the other has other thoughts.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Bahamet's Maw Tavern - Main Room [ESU]
Half a dozen tables are scattered throughout this diminutive tavern.
Despite the lack of lavish decor, the bar exudes a feeling of being anything
but paltry. The walls are coated in a layer of vivid tan paint, and
occasionally a framed painting hangs from their glossy surfaces. The
floorstones below are simple squares of red sandstone, haphazardly inlayed
into the level ground. Just above the elongated bar on the northern wall
hangs a luxurious tapestry, the tedious embroidery of a fiery sunburst
stitched onto a white background.
The cramped entrance to the east leads out to a road, while the room
snakes away to the south. A polished baobab staircase is affixed to one end
of the bar to carry patrons to an upper level dormitory.
A wooden-paneled painting sits supported by a miniature bone tripod.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
The short, obsidian-eyed youth is sitting at a highly polished table.
A stocky, bald-headed bartender stands upright behind the glazed bar.
The plump, reddish-hued templar is standing here.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the east.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the east.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks towards a highly polished table with long steps.
The stocky, bald-headed bartender trades a bowl of carru-meat stew to the short, obsidian-eyed
youth.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar sits at a highly polished table.
Gesturing a chair across, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented
sirihish:
"Sit down Serpent."
The short, obsidian-eyed youth tilts his head downward, bringing the edge of his bowl of carru-meat
stew to his lips as he begins to drain the soup of it's liquid, his gaze remaining firm upon a
highly polished table.
Following the robust, crimson-eyed templar's gesture, you sit at a
highly polished table.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, gesturing the
short, obsidian-eyed youth with a vague hand move:
"You know my partisan. What bothers you Serpent?"
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man clenches his jaw, staring at the tabletop with a rigid expression.
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man inhales deeply, letting out a soft sigh before turning to the robust, crimson-eyed templar.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, his gaze
getting narrow watching you:
"Master assasin, I haven't ever seen you like this before. What did happen?"
At your table, you say in sirihish, his tone quiet, his words
coming out slowly:
"Faithful Lord, the Ivory has never been this hostile to me before. I just wonder what I did
wrong."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, raising his
shoulder into a brief shrug:
"I have heard an unpleasant incident, but I thought you have suffered consequances of being a
southorn born before."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"You are given permission to live under His warm light by myself and High Templar Eunoli.
That's more than enough for any body."
At your table, you say in sirihish, nodding his head:
"Yes, but why does someone draws a knife to a baby and a mother in the middle of a crowded
tavern and gets away with it because he has a licence. I never knew the licence had so much
power."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"I never knew, that I could draw a knife to a baby in the sanctuary and threaten the mother,
just because I am a licenced assassin."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, grunting
loudly, lifting a finger:
"I am reported about the incident. That action did not occur because that man was a licensed
assasin, but a Faithful brother of mine just asked for him to do it."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"I will speak with my Faithful brother and learned the reason behind it."
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man blinks, furrowing his brows.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Probably he did not know you and your mate is given permission to live in the Ivory by myself
and High Templar Eunoli."
The short, obsidian-eyed youth remains silent, his obsidian-hued gaze settled upon the surface of a
highly polished table, his lips drawn into a thin line.
At your table, you say in sirihish, exhaling softly and shaking
his head:
"I have asked this before Faithful Lord. But this incident again made me uncomfortable. I
have come here with your permission and your granting us the safety.."
At your table, you say in sirihish, adding on:
"I have served and will continue to serve the Ivory with whatever. Two southern templars died
to my blade and probably there will be a third.."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"But.."
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man inhales a deep breath, wetting his lips.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"My word means my Order's word, and Faithful Lady's words mean for Lirathan Order. So you are
safe in the Ivory."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"I will learn the details of that incident, and will be sure it will not repeat. "
At your table, you say in sirihish, adding on quietly, his tone
calm:
"If we are going to be a trouble and will suffer it, we can just leave. Just that I am asking
it again."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, grunting:
"This is second time you ask for leaving. Where do you plan to go Serpent?"
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Is there any other place in the Known World which would welcome you more then the Ivory?"
At your table, you say in sirihish, shrugging his shoulders,
lowering his gaze:
"Nowhere.. We would probably be runaways in the sands and go to the Red Storm, live like
smugglers and what not.. The Ivory is more than a safe haven.."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"But if it is not safe.. I just don't want to have my mind troubled. I just want to be sure
of the things, so I can focus on what I am supposed to do."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, softly:
"I suggest you to keep your nerves, and continue your life with your skills. I have a feeling
that child make you .. a bit more .. softer?"
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, his lips curled
up:
"I will deal that incident, be sure it will not repeat again."
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man rubs his forehead.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, gesturing the
short, obsidian-eyed youth with a vague hand move:
"There is someone valuable for me, waiting for us."
At your table, you say in sirihish, in a calm tone:
"My skills never slipped. Never left me alone. And I will put them into good use.. So long..
My mind is clear and is not worried about a couple of person."
The short, obsidian-eyed youth rests his small hands upon his lap, his gaze remaining towards the
surface of a highly polished table still as he remains silent at the edge of the table.
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man nods slowly, turning to the
short, obsidian-eyed youth.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, watching you
for a while:
"Those feelings.. Interesting they are. You will get more comfortable, when Sophie will
understand she is safe in the Ivory."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Well, when will you begin training?"
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, his gaze set on
you:
"So?"
At your table, the short, obsidian-eyed youth says in northern-accented sirihish, twisting his lips
to one side, before speaking:
"He simply had mentioned you. I thought it was curious that a mutant would say such.. He was
attempting to assist me with my paintings, in the Sancutary.."
At your table, you say in sirihish, his tone taking firm:
"We can train even now. I was waiting a word from you about the other trainees.. Houses..
And .. All the details."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, to you:
"Chosen Lord Vadrayus wishes to speak with you Serpent. I told your services are extremely
good and expensive. Single lesson costs around two larges."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Reach Chosen Lord's mind and offer your services."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Also, I will speak with a Chosen from Winrothol family then return back to you."
At your table, you say in sirihish, wetting his lips:
"It will go through you. I would rather like to have a monthly payment, not a huge one and
the rest can go as a donation to you, Faithful Lord."
contact vadrayus
You suffer from use of the Way.
You are unable to reach their mind.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, with a soft
smile touched on his lips, gesturing the short, obsidian-eyed youth:
"The remaining coins can hopefully be enough training. My partisan is in your hands, and
skillful hands they are."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"You have given lessons before, you are the master and I will not interfere."
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man turns back to the short,
obsidian-eyed youth, glancing at him up and down.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, his gaze set on
the short, obsidian-eyed youth:
"He will listen your words carefully and will do his best."
The short, obsidian-eyed youth shifts his gaze towards you for a moment, before faintly tilting his
head downward at the robust, crimson-eyed templar's words in a nod.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, his gaze
shifting between you and the short, obsidian-eyed youth:
"I am sure you two have much to talk."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, his gaze
passing over surrounding:
"And this place is not suitable for that kind of conversation."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"We need training weapons.. And a suitable place."
<95/95 116/124 101/101 - walking >
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, dipping his
head once:
"I will arrange weapons right now, but facilities will take some time. I will get key for the
barracks in Freil's Rest."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"It will be open for both of you."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"For now, my partisan has an apartment. I hope that could be useful enough for now."
At your table, you say in sirihish, to the short, obsidian-eyed
youth:
"Big enough?"
At your table, you say in sirihish, turning to the robust,
crimson-eyed templar:
"You spoke of another candidate of yours, if I am not mistaken."
At your table, the short, obsidian-eyed youth says in northern-accented sirihish, dipping his
head faintly while speaking:
"Yes.. It is rather empty.. at the moment."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, his gaze
shifting between you and the short, obsidian-eyed youth:
"You wait here for a while. We will speak about the other professional soon Serpent."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar stands up from a highly polished table.
Firmly, the robust, crimson-eyed templar exclaims to a human Tuluki soldier, in northern-accented
sirihish:
"You stay here!"
A human Tuluki soldier offers firm nod towards the robust, crimson-eyed templar.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar relieves a human Tuluki soldier from his duty.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks east.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier walks east.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The short, obsidian-eyed youth shifts a glance over his small, right shoulder, his gaze seeming to
follow the robust, crimson-eyed templar, before turning back towards you.
You think:
"I just want their safety.. I just want that.."
You think:
"Give me their safety damn it.."
At your table, the short, obsidian-eyed youth says in northern-accented sirihish, shaking his
head in either direction, while speaking:
"I am eager to begin.. I've waited for some time, now, for a
proper mentor."
You think:
"And I will offer my services.. Is it too much asking?"
At your table, you say in sirihish, wetting his lips:
"You would not mind if there were other people along with you, while I instruct you, eh?"
At your table, the short, obsidian-eyed youth says in northern-accented sirihish, shaking his
head slowly in either direction:
"I am surprised, as this is the first time I've heard of it.. But.. No."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"There is one more person I want to teach. And the two of you, can take it together."
At your table, the short, obsidian-eyed youth says in northern-accented sirihish, clearing his
throat lightly, before dipping his head towards you:
"I understand.."
At your table, you say in sirihish, thoughtfully:
"It has been a lot of years since I had a competitive apprentice."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar has arrived from the east.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the east.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks towards a highly polished table carrying a pile of bone
weapons.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar sits at a highly polished table.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar calls to a human Tuluki soldier for aid, and he strides to his
side.
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man glances toward a
wooden-paneled, dark tempera painting.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, putting weapons
on polished surface of wooden table into a pile in front you:
"Here they are."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, his reddish
gaze shifting between you and the short, obsidian-eyed youth:
"Anything else either of you wish to add?"
The short, obsidian-eyed youth shakes his head lightly in either direction, shifting his gaze
towards the bone weapons that they are placed within a bone-studded backpack.
At your table, you say in sirihish, looking at a wooden-paneled,
dark tempera painting once more:
"Other than the other candidate, nothing on my side."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, quickly raising
from his stool, speaking in a firm tune:
"Very well, professional assasins. That's all for now then."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar stands up from a highly polished table.
The short, obsidian-eyed youth stands up from a highly polished table.
Slowly lifting his slender frame, you stand up from a highly polished table.
In firm tune, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says, in northern-accented sirihish:
"May His radiance shine upon you."
You are no longer following anyone.
The Pak-Curachek Road [NEW]
Bordered on either side by towering walls that spire upwards of ten
cords, this road runs east and west between the Templars' Quarter and the
Nobles' Quarter. Bones, dried and specially treated, have been set into the
ground to form a complexly woven path of isilt. The road is kept free of
dust and other debris as it makes its way through the city.
A pair of high-flying banners drape over the topmost portion of each
of these gates. On the left side, an enormous depiction of the reddish moon
of Jihae. Opposite to that is its stark white counterpart, Lirathu. The
vertical gate is a staggering ten cords tall, an insurmountable obstacle for
even the most skilled of climbers. The gate is made of interlocking
rectangles of a polished hardwood, with a series of close-set obsidian
spikes lining the very top of each half. A row of half a dozen smoothed
ivory torch-holders flank the sides of the gateway, ensuring a reasonably
brightly lit entryway no matter what the hour.
The Pak-Curachek road continues to the east and west.
The short, obsidian-eyed youth is standing here.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier is standing here.
A human Tuluki soldier stands here, lightly armored.
A young, wavy-haired female soldier stoically guards the northern gate.
The beefy, grey-skinned dwarf is standing here, bleeding heavily.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Once again Serpent was convinced of their safety. However, as the time passed, the feeling did not stay for long.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Submitter's note:
A few weeks passed since their arrival. Sophie and the baby she
had with her was threatened by a "licenced assassin" in Sanctuary,
which made Serpent...
Continue Reading...The Criminal, part IV: Foreign Sanctuary
Added on Mar 23, 2007Haadith died, but the concequences of his actions still echoed even after his death. Veralius Borsail wanted to destroy everything that was left of Haadith. Lord templar Sarador Sath captured Sophie and said he will decide his sentence on her, refusing any negotiations with Serpent or Veralius. Seeing no better way to solve it, Serpent kidnapped Sophie from where Sarador was hiding her. And together they fled to Tuluk for Sophie's safety. On their way, Sophie gave an early birth at Luir's outpost. Twins. Two boys, one died at birth. After staying in Kurac's care for one week, they finally made it to Tuluk. Seeking sanctuary, on a foreign land was not easy.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Submitter's note:
Haadith died, but the concequences of his actions still echoed even after his death. Veralius Borsail wanted to destroy everything that was left of Haadith. Lord templar Sarador Sath captured Sophie and said he will decide his sentence on her, refusing any negotiations with Serpent or Veralius. Seeing no better way to solve it, Serpent kidnapped Sophie from where Sarador was hiding her. And together they fled to Tuluk for Sophie's safety.
On their way, Sophie gave an early birth at Luir's outpost. Twins. Two boys, one died at birth. After staying in Kurac's care for one week, they finally made it to Tuluk. Seeking sanctuary, on a foreign land was not easy.
P.S: I have edited the log many times, deleting some passages of conversations, mindtalks, and some emotes and I have also replaced some names/actions as **censored** to avoid passing some information that better kept as it is. I hope you find it a good read.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Sun King's Sanctuary [NESWUD]
A polished, white marble floor covers the ground of this expansive
room, gleaming under the light of a large glass chandelier that hangs
overhead. A semi-circular bar, made of hard-grained wood painted a deep
black, extends from the eastern wall, several high-backed barstools sitting
around it. The walls of this room are brightly decorated, with several
elaborate paintings placed carefully for unobstructed view, and shelves
holding many exotic potted plants, blooming with bright red and white
flowers. Two large stained-glass windows, decorated with elaborate sun
symbols, adorn the northwest and southeast corners of the room.
Several decoratively carved tables fill this room, while a polished
leather couch nearly ten cords in length sprawls along the northern wall. A
stately spiral staircase sits in the center of the room, winding upwards
toward the common rooms of the second floor. The sounds of laughter and
music can be heard from a doorway along the western wall, while the scents
of cooked meat waft in from the east. A small, straight stairway sits along
the northern wall, ending at a slightly raised loft and a large carven
baobab door sits in the southern wall, leading out onto the North Road
outside.
The Tuluk bulletin board is here propped up on a stand.
The obsidian-skinned woman is standing here.
The young, Jihae-haired man is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The sinewy, chiseled woman is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The thin, green-gazed man is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The light-tressed young man is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The long-haired, middle-aged man stands behind the counter.
The gaunt, black-haired man is here, leaning on the bar.
The tall, well-groomed man sits here on a plush couch.
The short haired, heavy-set man stands here mug in-hand.
The male wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap walks over an intimate, dimly lit table, taking a seat.
You sit at an intimate, dimly lit table.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the robust, crimson-eyed man:
"Good morning Faithful Lord. It is a pleasure to find your mind finally."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
At a black-painted bar, you overhear the sinewy, chiseled woman say in northern-accented sirihish,
murmuring to herself:
"May's well watch th'scrub grow."
The battered, ebon-matted man has arrived from the south.
The young, Jihae-haired man looks at the sinewy, chiseled woman with a turn of his helmet-covered
head.
The slim, golden-haired woman has arrived from the west.
The robust, crimson-eyed man sends you a telepathic message:
"I have been looking for your mind for some time too master assasin. Did you manage to have a safe travel to the Ivory?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the robust, crimson-eyed man:
"That I have. I am indeed in the Sanctuary right now."
The obsidian-skinned woman makes her way across the marble floor with her head slightly inclined in the direction of a black-painted bar. She pitches a broad smile in at her twisted ruby red silk scarf as she makes her way down the bar's length.
The robust, crimson-eyed man sends you a telepathic message:
"Please come to the gates of the Heart Serpent, there are a lot to talk about your future in the Ivory."
The battered, ebon-matted man flicks his tongue out over his dark, dry lips, his feet carrying him slowly towards a black-painted bar with a limp in his step.
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
The battered, ebon-matted man sits at a black-painted bar.
The young, Jihae-haired man looks at the battered, ebon-matted man as he sits.
The slim, golden-haired woman walks north.
The obsidian-skinned woman looks down at the sinewy, chiseled woman with a passing gaze.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the robust, crimson-eyed man:
"I am on my way then."
Lowering a black inked hand from his temple, you stand up from an intimate, dimly lit table.
You dissolve the psychic link.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Serpent walked to the Heart, a place few southernors made it in, fewer made it alive out.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Pak-Curachek Road [NEW]
Bordered on either side by towering walls that spire upwards of ten
cords, this road runs east and west between the Templars' Quarter and the
Nobles' Quarter. Bones, dried and specially treated, have been set into the
ground to form a complexly woven path of isilt. The road is kept free of
dust and other debris as it makes its way through the city.
A pair of high-flying banners drape over the topmost portion of each
of these gates. On the left side, an enormous depiction of the reddish moon
of Jihae. Opposite to that is its stark white counterpart, Lirathu. The
vertical gate is a staggering ten cords tall, an insurmountable obstacle for
even the most skilled of climbers. The gate is made of interlocking
rectangles of a polished hardwood, with a series of close-set obsidian
spikes lining the very top of each half. A row of half a dozen smoothed
ivory torch-holders flank the sides of the gateway, ensuring a reasonably
brightly lit entryway no matter what the hour.
The Pak-Curachek road continues to the east and west.
A young, wavy-haired female soldier stoically guards the northern gate.
The beefy, grey-skinned dwarf is standing here, bleeding heavily.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the robust, crimson-eyed man with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the robust, crimson-eyed man:
"I am at the gates."
The thin, green-gazed man sends you a telepathic message:
"Serpent...I notice a man who dresses like you. "
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the thin, green-gazed man with the Way.
The tall, greying-haired Tuluki soldier opens the gate from the other side.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar has arrived from the north.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the north.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the north.
The tall, greying-haired Tuluki soldier closes the gate from the other side.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the thin, green-gazed man:
"That was me Fej."
You now follow the robust, crimson-eyed templar.
The figure in a black skull-studded greatcloak inclines his head in the robust, crimson-eyed templar's direction.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar looks up at you for a while before dipping his head briefly.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar steps back towards large wooden gates, after a glance back to
you.
The young, wavy-haired female soldier opens the gate.
The young, wavy-haired female soldier steps aside, allowing the robust, crimson-eyed templar to
pass.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks north.
You follow the robust, crimson-eyed templar, and walk north.
Tembo Pass [NESW]
A pair of matching gates looms just to the north, their height
slightly dwarfed when compared to the ones above. A gate-tower remains
elevated in the air above this road, the patrolling of which can be heard
constantly through day or night. Lightly speckled grey plants lead
alongside the road to the east, while to the west the colors of the blossoms
are much more vivid and appear to be more taken care of.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
A tall, greying-haired Tuluki soldier stands here, guarding the southern gate.
The prodigious, purple-skinned half-giant soldier looms on duty here.
The short-haired, female Tuluki soldier is standing here.
A lean, tattooed Jihaen slave is here cleaning the streets.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the south.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the south.
The young, wavy-haired female soldier closes the gate from the other side.
Within Piory's Yard [NESW]
The saplings of purple and grey-barked trees are no match to the sheer
height of the marble pyramid that dominates this yard. Standing with an
enormous stature, the pyramid's greyish marble walls elegantly taper up to a
statue-tipped point. Scattered around the base of the pyramid are various
beds of lush blossoms, their colors appearing vibrantly-hued in contrast
with the dreary building. Just near the wooden gateway to the pyramid, a
lush strip of rosebushes sprawl towards the door.
A gigantic, grey-marble pyramid overshadows the rest of the yard.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
The braided, hook-nosed templar is standing here.
A Jihaen slave stands here, caring for the plants.
A bulging, wide-lipped man sits toying with some needles.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the south.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the south.
The figure in a black skull-studded greatcloak glances around his
surroundings briefly.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar closes the gate.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar locks the gate with a knob-ended baobab key.
The enormous sun rises above the barren plains in the east.
After a glance to huge pyramid raising to sky, the robust, crimson-eyed templar asks you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Well, you have been here before a few times, haven't you?"
The figure in a black skull-studded greatcloak drops a single firm nod.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar tucks his thornwood and leather keyring back to a pocket on his
Jihae-embossed toolbelt, slowly walking along stone path on garden.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar puts a thornwood and leather keyring inside a Jihae-embossed
toolbelt.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks east.
You follow the robust, crimson-eyed templar, and walk east.
In a Small Corner of a Garden [NW]
Pymlithe saplings are planted in variegated rows along this tight
strip of the garden. Nearly all of the flora that thrives within the
surrounding area seems to be in the earliest stages of their growth. The
vividly-colored blossoms of the roses strewn about are on the brink of
spreading open, though each stem's jade hue stands out stiffly above the
flowerbed. A few rounded slabs of red sandstone create a path throughout
the underlying greb grass' dark violet cascade.
Just beneath the row of trees planted in the southeastern corner of
the garden lies a cozy wooden bench, its seat covered with a pair of linen
cushions.
A shadow falls over the area, driving off the uncomfortable heat.
A wylrith tree stubbornly flourishes, its leaves forming a shaded canopy above the ground.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the west.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the west.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar closes a Jihae-embossed toolbelt.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks north.
You follow the robust, crimson-eyed templar, and walk north.
Within a Linen-Topped Gazebo [SW]
A row of potted plants lines the interior of this simple gazebo,
providing the only fauna not blocked off by screens of a wooly fabric. The
beige, earth-toned shades assist in shadowing away some of the harsh crimson
light of Suk-Krath while still allowing a pleasant view of the luxurious
garden just outside. A shelf has been hammered into place above the bench
on the eastern wall, bearing a few yellowish candles and some long-dried
flowers.
A wicker-edged door leads to the west, and a matching door opens up
towards the southern garden.
A small thornbush grows in a pot.
A long bench has been bolted to the eastern wall, cushioned by thick pillows.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the south.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the south.
Walking along wooden floor towards a long, cushioned bench, the robust, crimson-eyed templar asks
you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"You do not need that hood.. or do you need to feel safer?"
The robust, crimson-eyed templar sits on a long, cushioned bench.
Gesturing a long, cushioned bench with a casual wave of his hand, the robust, crimson-eyed templar
says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Sit down."
Tilting his head back and letting his hood fall on his shoulders
silently, you sit on a long, cushioned bench.
You lower the hood of a black skull-studded greatcloak.
You stop using a grey shaded, black face-wrap.
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man carefully wraps your grey
shaded, black face-wrap in his hands, placing the silken object in his lap.
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, his reddish gaze
passing over you up and down:
"So, Serpent of the alleys. Welcome!"
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with an appreciative nod:
"Thank you Faithful Lord."
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man wets his lips, reaching to
your bone-studded backpack.
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, his lips curling
up slightly:
"I can not think of any good reason why -now- you need to the sanctuary of His warm light."
The thin, green-gazed man sends you a telepathic message:
"Ahh. Visiting, then? Whats become of Judas?"
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Did you insult a black roped witch or an high ranking caught you with a rotten noble in his
bedroom?"
At your seat, you say in sirihish, exhaling a soft breath:
"Not quite, but close."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Haadith..."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Malenthis.."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Then Sarador.."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Also, for the safety of my companions."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the thin, green-gazed man with the Way.
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, stroking his
pointed chin as he studies your face:
"I know of Malenthis.. A blue if I am not mistaken, probably he would not cause any problems
for your business.. Who is Sarador?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the thin, green-gazed man:
"If things do not turn any bad, I will be staying in the Ivory for sometime. Judah, could not
recover from his injuries."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Another Blue. Narrow witted one."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, lifting a brow:
"Did you escape from the Black City because of two blue robes? Interesting.. I thought your
status in your organization give you enough protection from those types."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, wetting his lips:
"The thing is.. I am accused of being a traitor.. Twice. And none of them really bothers me.
Because I can slip through the whole Blues and Reds if I have to."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, exhaling a soft breath:
"I am here.. Because there is also a defiler. Well.. Again.."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"I could give a good fight and make the outcome of the fight a little bit surprise for him."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, grunting:
"A defiler? From Labyrith?"
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Or a pet defiler witches use?"
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"But my companions.. The templars, nobles, defiler.. They are also a threat for them. I came
to ensure their safety."
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man nods a few times.
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"I don't think he has any connections to the templars."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, pointing you
with a slender finger finger:
"This is second time you say companions.. One of them is an old aide of Haadith, the others?"
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Did you bring a group with you for foundation of your groups' branch in the Ivory?"
At your seat, you say in sirihish, wetting his lips, and taking another bite from your half eaten bundle of cooked meat:
"A kid.. Baby."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, shaking his head:
"Probably.. I will try that branch myself. None with me here."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, his lips curling
up slightly into a faded grin:
"A baby? Should I congratulate?"
At your seat, you say in sirihish, stiffling a grin, taking another
bite from your half eaten bundle of cooked meat to hide the curl in his lips:
"Well.. You could if you want to."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the thin, green-gazed man:
"I came here to see the well being of the group in North myself Fej."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the thin, green-gazed man:
"We two, can pull it together, don't you think?"
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, chuckling
softly, shifting on bench to face you:
"The one your bring, aide of Haadith. What's her name? I guess there is quite a story about
Haadith's death as well."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Sophie. And yes, there is some story to the death of the disrobbed templar."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, folding his arms
on his red armored chest, still a smile on his lips:
"I am listenning. "
Your new objective is:
Ensuring the safety of Sophie and his baby.
At your seat, you say in sirihish, exhaling a soft breath:
"Haadith.. attacked to a superior of his. Red Robe Marsellus."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, dipping his
head briefly:
"Interesting. Please continue."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"And got knocked down. Which led to his being disrobbed and banished to the Labyrinth."
The thin, green-gazed man sends you a telepathic message:
"We could, perhaps, but I am still sickened by disease. "
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"There was a mob.. A crowd that was waiting for him to tear him into shreds."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"I confronted him myself first and ensured his safety by taking him among my people."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar stares at you with narrowed reddish gaze.
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"What I was planing was.."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"To keep him secure, and then probably extract anything that he knew."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Then I would sell him out.. He was nothing to me at all."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, wetting his lips:
"I was.. Sold out by some magicker that entered my quarter by shadow magick."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"And Malenthis, pulled me into a trick.. And I was thrown into the jails for the first time."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar exhales softly, without leaving his gaze on your face.
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Jails are a little bit convincing, when it comes to that, you are a traitor for the second
time."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Malenthis' intentions were clear. He was asking for Haadith's head. And he captured another
of ranking in my organisation as well."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"For his safety, I agreed, and brought Haadith's head to him."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, tapping his
pointed chin, softly:
"So that's the end of Haadith."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, pursing his lips:
"The tip of my blade.. Was his end."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, spreading his
arms briefly, shifting on a long, cushioned bench reaching another silk pillow:
"Well, so you have no problem with that witch Malenthis."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, wiping his forehead:
"Well.. We can say that. But still, he might hold something against me, since I am the
"traitor"."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, with a raise of
his broad shoulders in a brief shrug:
"Why don't you slay that beast? "
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Or someone else from your gang."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Killing a templar, in his own domain among his guards is not something easy to pull off
easily. And after I do that, everything we do in the southside of the city would be damaged
greatly."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"I have to have a -very- big reason to do it."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, dipping his
head briefly:
"Well, shortly you are in the Ivory because of another Sandas defiler who can harm either
yourself our your mate and child.. Am I correct? "
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"And also Sarador, the Blue."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"I kidnapped her from Sarador's hand."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, steadying his
posture, speaking in a firm tune:
"Well, you will walk safely under His warm light with protection of my name."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"I already ordered Corporal Vaashir to speak with you. You can also speak with him if
neccesary."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, nodding appreaciatively:
"Thank you Faithful Lord. And, this includes my companions too?"
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, bobbing his
head briefly:
"Yes. I hope you are not planning any retirement, your skills could be very useful."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Actually.. I was just thinking of that."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, his gaze widen
slightly:
"You are too young to retire. Your skills could be very valuable. "
At your seat, you say in sirihish, exhaling a soft breath:
"I agree on that."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"But I was planning more in lines of.."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Passing my knowledge perhaps."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"If that is possible of course, I can be a trainer here during my stay."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, his lips curling
up slightly:
"Indeed, that's what I am planning as well. There are a couple of canditates already in my
hand, your skills will give a safe stay and earning during your stay."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, nodding his head:
"I think the Houses might have some to be trained as well. Perhaps you can arrange that."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, nodding once:
"Yes, -I- will arrange it personally Serpent."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"I will speak with Faithful Lady Eunoli, and I want you to completely obey her orders without
even thinking."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, blinking:
"Of course.. But orders about what?"
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, after a long
while looking at you:
"Anything my sister wishes."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, knitting his brows:
"Of course."
You think:
"Confusing."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, thoughtfully:
"If our stay here is going to be a problem... We can leave Faithful Lord."
You think:
"Orders? What orders..."
You think:
"I am not ordered.. Never."
You think:
"Damn it.. Weakness.. This is weakness.. For Sophie and the baby.."
You think:
"They can use them... Damn."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, shaking his
head a couple of times:
"It's not a problem, but an opportunity for me. You will find sanctuary under His brilliant
light in the Ivory."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"I have brought what Haadith had, before he died."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"All **censored** are questioned by His legions on sight. On the other hand, do you
know the name of that beast or.. can you describe?"
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, lifting a brow:
"Ring?"
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Maybe you will be interested in them. No."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Without his ring, medallion, and robe.. Still he has some of the templar uniform though."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, his lips curled
up slightly:
"Did you bring the robe and medallion? What is the cost of those cursed items?"
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"I would like to keep them for my personal collection."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, shaking his head:
"No.. As I said, the medallion and robe were taken in his banishment. But I have the res of
the uniform in Jade and black colors."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Well, what is the cost of those items?"
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"I think I could pull off something like three larges or something for those armor pieces..
But."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"We can go half for you. Fifteen smalls."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"If you agree, I mean."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, after a while
looking at you, bobbing his head once:
"Sounds like a good piece. They will be a good addition to my collection."
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man bobs his head a few times.
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"I would like to speak with Sophie as well."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Of course. Once she is around, I will bring her to you as well."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, lifting his
hand:
"There is no need you have to accompany us in that meeting, I want her to understand she in
safe here."
You think:
"Why is that?"
At your seat, you say in sirihish, biting his lower lip:
"I see."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Once she is around, I will tell her."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, dipping his
head once more:
"Anytime, I will try to reach her mind as well. We will speak occasionally, that's good news.
During your stay, if you manage to learn anything regarding the old City ruins, I would like to pay
for it."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Of course."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Also, there are elves running around His dominion, speaking about Rantarri. I am quite sure
you will come up with something from that as well.. Especially about an one eyed elf."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"One eyed? What else does he have as distinguishing feature?"
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, with a brief
shake of his head, grunting:
"It is informed he is blonde, but nothing else. Oh.. Also one more thing.. "
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"There is a kind of mysterious figure who is very interested in Ruins as well. He calls
himself -Shadow-. Other than that little piece of information, there is nothing about him. "
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Shadow.. Drovians like that kind of name, if you ask me."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"But nothing reliable. I can check it out."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, gesturing your
cloak with a lift of his hand:
"I am quite sure those types of people will find you while in your stay."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, chuckling quietly:
"I am not sure if it is good to be so atractive."
At your seat, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, with a slight
girn:
"Well, you make your life with being atractive. That's all for now Serpent, if there is
nothing else you wish to add."
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man shakes his head, lifting his slender frame up.
You stand up from a long, cushioned bench.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar stands up from a long, cushioned bench.
You fasten a grey shaded, black face-wrap across your face.
Within a Linen-Topped Gazebo [SW]
A row of potted plants lines the interior of this simple gazebo,
providing the only fauna not blocked off by screens of a wooly fabric. The
beige, earth-toned shades assist in shadowing away some of the harsh crimson
light of Suk-Krath while still allowing a pleasant view of the luxurious
garden just outside. A shelf has been hammered into place above the bench
on the eastern wall, bearing a few yellowish candles and some long-dried
flowers.
A wicker-edged door leads to the west, and a matching door opens up
towards the southern garden.
A small thornbush grows in a pot.
A long bench has been bolted to the eastern wall, cushioned by thick pillows.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier is standing here.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
A human Tuluki soldier stands here, lightly armored.
Slowly walking along wooden gaze towards garden, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in
northern-accented sirihish:
"If you meet with a young human called Murkan, I am planning to ask you to give training to
him.. So at least introduce yourself to him, as a beginning."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks south.
You follow the robust, crimson-eyed templar, and walk south.
You ask the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"What was the name of that dwarf, he was also a private of the legions?"
Slowly openning the wooden gates, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in
northern-accented sirihish:
Tucking his thornwood and leather keyring back to a pocket on his Jihae-embossed toolbelt, the
robust, crimson-eyed templar asks you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"So when I can get those armor pieces?"
Shrugging his shoulders, you say to the robust, crimson-eyed
templar, in sirihish:
"Whenever you want. I can just go and pick them up even now."
Dipping his head briefly walking over large wooden gates, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to
you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Meet me in front of Nenyuki Bank after you pick them up."
The tall, greying-haired Tuluki soldier opens the gate.
The tall, greying-haired Tuluki soldier steps aside, allowing the robust, crimson-eyed templar to
pass.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks south.
You follow the robust, crimson-eyed templar, and walk south.
The Pak-Curachek Road [NEW]
Bordered on either side by towering walls that spire upwards of ten
cords, this road runs east and west between the Templars' Quarter and the
Nobles' Quarter. Bones, dried and specially treated, have been set into the
ground to form a complexly woven path of isilt. The road is kept free of
dust and other debris as it makes its way through the city.
A pair of high-flying banners drape over the topmost portion of each
of these gates. On the left side, an enormous depiction of the reddish moon
of Jihae. Opposite to that is its stark white counterpart, Lirathu. The
vertical gate is a staggering ten cords tall, an insurmountable obstacle for
even the most skilled of climbers. The gate is made of interlocking
rectangles of a polished hardwood, with a series of close-set obsidian
spikes lining the very top of each half. A row of half a dozen smoothed
ivory torch-holders flank the sides of the gateway, ensuring a reasonably
brightly lit entryway no matter what the hour.
The Pak-Curachek road continues to the east and west.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
A young, wavy-haired female soldier stoically guards the northern gate.
The beefy, grey-skinned dwarf is standing here, bleeding heavily.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the north.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the north.
The tall, greying-haired Tuluki soldier closes the gate from the other side.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"May His radiance guide your path in your stay Serpent."
You say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Then I will reach your mind within an hour."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar dips his head briefly offering a gentle nod.
The male wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap dips his head to the robust, crimson-eyed templar.
You slow down and start moving carefully.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Within an hour, they met again in the Bank ran by House Nenyuk
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
House Nenyuk Bank [W]
The continual clink of money being counted competes with the
noise of shuffling receipts and the yells of clerks as they run this
way and that with boxes full of coins. A large desk sits near the
door, from which customers are served.
A plaque has been affixed on the wall above the desk.
A short, fat Nenyuki clerk stands here, waiting to help customers.
A muscular, half-giant bodyguard lounges here.
A muscular, half-giant bodyguard lounges here.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
A human Tuluki soldier is standing here.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier is standing here.
The male wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap hefts under the weight of your bloodied bone-studded backpack.
Passing your bloodied bone-studded backpack to the robust,
crimson-eyed templar, you say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Exactly what he had. Blood is his own"
You give a bloodied bone-studded backpack to the robust,
crimson-eyed templar.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks over you, handing a large coin pouch.
The male wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap tests the weight
of the coin pouch, nodding once.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar glances down to his bloodied bone-studded backpack, with a smile
spread on his face.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar dips his head briefly towards you, walking along dark street.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks south.
A human Tuluki soldier walks south.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier walks south.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Moments later...
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Sun King's Sanctuary [NESWUD]
A polished, white marble floor covers the ground of this expansive
room, gleaming under the light of a large glass chandelier that hangs
overhead. A semi-circular bar, made of hard-grained wood painted a deep
black, extends from the eastern wall, several high-backed barstools sitting
around it. The walls of this room are brightly decorated, with several
elaborate paintings placed carefully for unobstructed view, and shelves
holding many exotic potted plants, blooming with bright red and white
flowers. Two large stained-glass windows, decorated with elaborate sun
symbols, adorn the northwest and southeast corners of the room.
Several decoratively carved tables fill this room, while a polished
leather couch nearly ten cords in length sprawls along the northern wall. A
stately spiral staircase sits in the center of the room, winding upwards
toward the common rooms of the second floor. The sounds of laughter and
music can be heard from a doorway along the western wall, while the scents
of cooked meat waft in from the east. A small, straight stairway sits along
the northern wall, ending at a slightly raised loft and a large carven
baobab door sits in the southern wall, leading out onto the North Road
outside.
The Tuluk bulletin board is here propped up on a stand.
The well-shaped, slash-marked man is standing here.
The light-tressed young man is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier is standing here.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
A human Tuluki soldier stands here, lightly armored.
The lithe, black-haired young woman is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The slim, golden-haired woman is here moving about the room.
The obsidian-skinned woman is sitting at a highly polished table.
The sable-skinned, ponytailed man is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The sinewy, chiseled woman is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The thin, green-gazed man is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The green-eyed, redheaded woman is sitting on a supple, black leather couch.
The scar-riddled, wiry man is standing here.
The svelte, loreshi-tressed woman is sitting on a supple, black leather couch.
The tall, curly-haired man is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The long-haired, middle-aged man stands behind the counter.
The gaunt, black-haired man is here, leaning on the bar.
The tall, well-groomed man sits here on a plush couch.
The short haired, heavy-set man stands here mug in-hand.
Stepping over the center of the crowded tavern, the robust, crimson-eyed templar shouts, in
northern-accented sirihish:
"Good and loyal citizens of the Ivory!"
The lithe, black-haired young woman shifts her position, turning half way around on her cushioned
stool.
The sinewy, chiseled woman looks up at the robust, crimson-eyed templar with a turn of her head.
The sable-skinned, ponytailed man turns completely on the stool, facing the robust, crimson-eyed
templar.
The well-shaped, slash-marked man comes to halt by tavern's entry, focusing his gazes on the
robust, crimson-eyed templar.
After a while waiting for silence, the robust, crimson-eyed templar shouts, in northern-accented
sirihish:
"I have some good news!"
The male wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap glances at the robust, crimson-eyed templar briefly, before turning back to the doorway.
North Road [NESW]
The stark white of this wide stone road lies nestled between the rise
and fall of a conglomerated jumble of eclectically styled buildings.
Passing through the city, the road is kept clean of any blowing sand and
forest debris. The pale backbone cuts a decisive line east across the
bustling metropolis towards what remains of the Old City.
The pale white of the road merges with a newer road just to the east.
Further in the distance, the crumbled ruins of the old city can be seen
rising up above the newer walls that have been built up around them. Set on
the north side of the road is a large two-story tavern. On the south side
of the road is a large wagon yard.
The robust, obsidian-haired Jihaen templar is standing here.
The lanky, russet-haired lad lounges by the tavern.
North Salt Road [NSW]
Rows of pale stones form the backbone for this broad avenue, settled
into the ground with graceful fervor. Decorating the edge of the street,
the buildings and storefronts are universally adorned with garish and tawdry
sculptures, bas reliefs, and murals. The road is filled with a continual
throng of humans and demi-humans alike as they scurry about the bustle of
daily life.
The sounds of a rowdy commotion spills out onto the streets from the
building to the west. A trio of humanoid sculptures are caught before the
junction between two roads, the crowds passing around them. An odd-looking
sculpture surrounds a stone bench off to one side of the road.
The tawny, blonde-haired woman strolls down the street, eyes bright.
You sit on a small white stone bench.
The wiry, stony-eyed man has arrived from the north.
The wiry, stony-eyed man walks west.
The short figure in a desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak has arrived from the north.
The short figure in a desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak walks west.
The stout, one-eyed man has arrived from the north.
You think:
"Interesting."
The stout, one-eyed man looks down at you as he passes down the road.
You hear a man's voice from the north say, in sirihish:
"He's stealin' it!!!"
The Sun King's Sanctuary [NESWUD]
A polished, white marble floor covers the ground of this expansive
room, gleaming under the light of a large glass chandelier that hangs
overhead. A semi-circular bar, made of hard-grained wood painted a deep
black, extends from the eastern wall, several high-backed barstools sitting
around it. The walls of this room are brightly decorated, with several
elaborate paintings placed carefully for unobstructed view, and shelves
holding many exotic potted plants, blooming with bright red and white
flowers. Two large stained-glass windows, decorated with elaborate sun
symbols, adorn the northwest and southeast corners of the room.
Several decoratively carved tables fill this room, while a polished
leather couch nearly ten cords in length sprawls along the northern wall. A
stately spiral staircase sits in the center of the room, winding upwards
toward the common rooms of the second floor. The sounds of laughter and
music can be heard from a doorway along the western wall, while the scents
of cooked meat waft in from the east. A small, straight stairway sits along
the northern wall, ending at a slightly raised loft and a large carven
baobab door sits in the southern wall, leading out onto the North Road
outside.
The Tuluk bulletin board is here propped up on a stand.
The stout, one-eyed man is standing here.
The scarred, pony-tailed man is standing here.
The short figure in a desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The wiry, stony-eyed man is standing here.
The intricately tattooed half-elf is sitting at an intimate, dimly lit table.
The well-shaped, slash-marked man is standing here.
The light-tressed young man is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier is standing here.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
A human Tuluki soldier stands here, lightly armored.
The lithe, black-haired young woman is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The obsidian-skinned woman is sitting at a highly polished table.
The sable-skinned, ponytailed man is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The thin, green-gazed man is standing here.
The green-eyed, redheaded woman is standing here.
The scar-riddled, wiry man is standing here.
The svelte, loreshi-tressed woman is standing here.
The tall, curly-haired man is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The long-haired, middle-aged man stands behind the counter.
The gaunt, black-haired man is here, leaning on the bar.
The tall, well-groomed man sits here on a plush couch.
The short haired, heavy-set man stands here mug in-hand.
The well-shaped, slash-marked man breaks a jade-studded, black-leather hauberk.
Dips his head to himself a couple of times watching the crowd cracking the items, the robust,
crimson-eyed templar steps out to busy street with a slight smile on his lips.
The sable-skinned, ponytailed man stands up from a black-painted bar.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks south.
A human Tuluki soldier walks south.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier walks south.
The well-shaped, slash-marked man sheathes an ivory and marble claw-carved mace.
The scarred, pony-tailed man looks down at the well-shaped, slash-marked man.
The green-eyed, redheaded woman says, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Pity there wasn't a witch's neck in there.."
The sable-skinned, ponytailed man puts a slender, blue-rimmed wineglass on a black-painted bar.
The sable-skinned, ponytailed man walks south.
The stained glass windows glow with the light of the rising sun outside.
The wiry, stony-eyed man asks, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Which witch was it?"
The scar-riddled, wiry man walks south.
The thin, green-gazed man looks down at the tall, curly-haired man.
Raising his voice, hoarsely, the well-shaped, slash-marked man says, in northern-accented
sirihish:
"Haadith'."
Holding out her bloodied bone-studded backpack toward him, the svelte, loreshi-tressed woman says
to the wiry, stony-eyed man, in northern-accented sirihish:
"This is the blood of Haadith Oash."
Head bowed low, the male wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap makes his way to the stairs, passing through the crowds.
The intricately tattooed half-elf stands up from an intimate, dimly lit table.
The lithe, black-haired young woman looks up at the intricately tattooed half-elf.
The intricately tattooed half-elf strides past the mob with an easy stride stopping to turn to the
lithe, black-haired young woman.
The stout, one-eyed man purses his lips, glancing over the crowd.
The wiry, stony-eyed man says to the svelte, loreshi-tressed woman, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Hey, I think I remember that name."
The male wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap silently stops by
the stairs, glancing at the commotion briefly.
The well-shaped, slash-marked man makes his way to a supple, black leather couch at a slow pace.
You hear a man's voice from below say, in sirihish:
"Goo', well I have work ta' do eh'. I must be off."
You hear a woman's voice shout from below in northern-accented sirihish:
"This witches blood will burn in firepit!"
You hear a man's voice from below say, in sirihish:
"Travel ligh' an' live well lass. I hope to see ye latta'."
You hear a woman's voice from below say, in sirihish:
"Sorry about the mess."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Haadith's belongings were displayed, and destroyed publically:A small sign of victory for Tuluk, and for Samil, a bigger sign of acceptance for Serpent.
A few days after, Serpent met the boy named Murkan, who would be his aprentice in the deadly arts.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ana's Garden [NESW]
Lowset bushes, their leaves a glossy purple and green, sprawl in
semi-orderly ranks beneath a scattering of agafari and pymlithe trees, a
network of gravelled paths leading along through the park area. Denizens of
the city wander through the pathways, talking in small clusters or moving
silently towards some other destination.
The short, obsidian-eyed youth is sitting on a small grey stone bench.
A slim-bodied, blonde-haired elf lounges on a bench, watching the crowds.
A Tuluki street slave stands sweeping the ground clear of dust.
A supple, dark-eyed dancer sits on the grass, clapping out the time.
A short, red-haired dancer moves through the crowd, collecting donations.
A lazy-eyed, wide-hipped dancer sways in time to a softly beaten rhythm.
A cross-eyed, green-haired half-giant crouches, sniffing at some flowers.
The male wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap leads the short,
obsidian-eyed youth to a small grey stone bench.
You sit on a small grey stone bench.
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Do you know a lot about northern templars?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the delicate, ebon-curled woman with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"A lot? I don't think anyone knows a lot about anything.. But.. Yeah, I think I know some."
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"*amusement* Serpent... I am sure you know a lot about lot of things. Would be possible to meet
you... perhaps in a few weeks?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"I don't think it is easy to meet me these days. Is it hard to pass it along the way? Or
untrusty?"
The male wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap glances at a
lazy-eyed, wide-hipped dancer, as he nods absently.
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Hmm... you are hiding? That is... unfortunate, indeed. Let me think how to word the question.
"
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Do all northern templars have the same powers?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"Sure. You shoot it. I can prepare an answer probably."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"Oh.."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"No. Not to my observation."
At your seat, the short, obsidian-eyed youth says in northern-accented sirihish, grimacing
lightly as he grips his stomach tightly:
"So the Faithful seem to favor me.. I can't complain.. Though I wish I could've found one,
before I ended up starving like this.."
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Samil and Eunoli?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"Different I would say."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, his gaze turning to the short,
obsidian-eyed youth:
"Slow it down or you will choke."
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Alright. I thank you, Serpent. Your company is alright, I heard?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"Yes. She is fine. We have a cute son here."
The male wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap's gaze return to a
lazy-eyed, wide-hipped dancer, beaming a veiled smile to her performance.
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Ahh, excellent. And its name?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"Sen.. Sen Hiatus. A little troublemaker I would say."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"And for your request.."
At your seat, the short, obsidian-eyed youth says in northern-accented sirihish, furrowing his
brows curiously as he turns his head towards you, seemingly ignorant of the dancing figures close
by:
"Your accent .. it's different from those others which I've heard.. Are you from the South?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"I can give you a more detailed answer once I can meet you."
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Excellent. Let me know once it is possible."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"Of course."
You dissolve the psychic link.
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
A lazy-eyed, wide-hipped dancer stretches out a leg, toes pointed into the air, leaning back on her
other leg as she dances.
At your seat, you say in sirihish, dipping his head with a smile
to a lazy-eyed, wide-hipped dancer:
"We can say that.."
At your seat, the short, obsidian-eyed youth says in northern-accented sirihish, scratching the
back of his neck as a mark of confusion crosses his facial features, finally turning his gaze
towards a lazy-eyed, wide-hipped dancer with a blank expression:
"Huh.. Why would.. you wish to train me, then?"
A lazy-eyed, wide-hipped dancer moves with a languid, sinuous twist of her shoulders.
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Because I am going to get paid for that."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, turning to the short,
obsidian-eyed youth, staring at him in the face:
"Now.. The purpose of this little sit down and talk, Murkan.."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Is to introduce me who I am."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"I mean.. Introduce -you-."
At your seat, the short, obsidian-eyed youth says in northern-accented sirihish, dipping his
head slowly, several times:
"I understand.."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, eyes narrowing to slits behind
his facewrap:
"Now you saw me, you hear me. You know I am a foreigner scum.."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"And you will probably hate me. Everybody does."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"I don't care if you do."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"But.. You will respect me, so long I am your trainer."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Hate. Temper.. Feel humiliated, whatever."
At your seat, the short, obsidian-eyed youth says in northern-accented sirihish, dipping his
head slowly, narrowing his gaze towards his small feet:
"I am allowed to live in the grace of the Faithful to do a task.. As long as you can train me
in that task, you will have my respect, and jot my hatred."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with a slow nod, not leaving
his gaze from the short, obsidian-eyed youth's face:
"That is good.. That is what I want to hear."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, exhaling a soft breath, his
gaze turning back to the performers:
"That is all for now"
The late, red sun descends toward the western horizon.
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with a dismissive gesture:
"You can go."
At your seat, the short, obsidian-eyed youth says in northern-accented sirihish, rubbing his
stomach with a content sigh:
"Very well. Contact me whenever you wish.. to begin."
The short, obsidian-eyed youth stands up from a small grey stone bench.
The short, obsidian-eyed youth bows his head lightly within your direction, stepping back from a
small grey stone bench, grasping onto the bundle inbetween his small hands.
Lowering his gaze towards his bundle of cooked meat, the short, obsidian-eyed youth says, in
northern-accented sirihish:
"Thank you.."
A lazy-eyed, wide-hipped dancer beckons in invitation to a passerby, leaning close to him as she
dances towards him.
The short, obsidian-eyed youth walks south.
The male wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap glances between a lazy-eyed, wide-hipped dancer and the passerby, grinning impishly.
A steady jingle comes from the tambourine as a lazy-eyed, wide-hipped dancer shakes it.
The male wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap walks over a short, red-haired dancer, passing a small coin pouch.
In a quiet tone, you say, in sirihish:
"Thanks for the entertainment."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A day after in Sanctuary, Serpent meets Corporal Vaashir, an old friend... or acquintance.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Sun King's Sanctuary [NESWUD]
A polished, white marble floor covers the ground of this expansive
room, gleaming under the light of a large glass chandelier that hangs
overhead. A semi-circular bar, made of hard-grained wood painted a deep
black, extends from the eastern wall, several high-backed barstools sitting
around it. The walls of this room are brightly decorated, with several
elaborate paintings placed carefully for unobstructed view, and shelves
holding many exotic potted plants, blooming with bright red and white
flowers. Two large stained-glass windows, decorated with elaborate sun
symbols, adorn the northwest and southeast corners of the room.
Several decoratively carved tables fill this room, while a polished
leather couch nearly ten cords in length sprawls along the northern wall. A
stately spiral staircase sits in the center of the room, winding upwards
toward the common rooms of the second floor. The sounds of laughter and
music can be heard from a doorway along the western wall, while the scents
of cooked meat waft in from the east. A small, straight stairway sits along
the northern wall, ending at a slightly raised loft and a large carven
baobab door sits in the southern wall, leading out onto the North Road
outside.
An empty mug of rough grey soapstone has been placed here.
The Tuluk bulletin board is here propped up on a stand.
The slim, golden-haired woman is here moving about the room.
The young, Jihae-haired man is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The wiry, amethyst-eyed woman stands here, gaze alert.
The bulky, golden-bearded man is sitting at a highly polished table.
The light-tressed young man is sitting at a highly polished table.
The slight, bony-faced man is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The long-haired, middle-aged man stands behind the counter.
The gaunt, black-haired man is here, leaning on the bar.
The tall, well-groomed man sits here on a plush couch.
The short haired, heavy-set man stands here mug in-hand.
The scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf looks up at you.
The svelte, loreshi-tressed woman has arrived from the south.
At a highly polished table, you overhear the bulky, golden-bearded man say in northern-accented
sirihish, lacing his fat hands over his swelling gut:
"Tell me. How well known are you in the Black City? Favorably?"
Carrying her blue and purple ceramic bottle in one hand, the svelte, loreshi-tressed woman weaves
through the crowd across the marble floor.
The scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf sends you a telepathic message:
"Well, it's been a while since I've seen you around here..."
At a highly polished table, you overhear the light-tressed young man say in northern-accented
sirihish, with a slight shake of his head:
"Not favorably, Chosen Lord.. especially by those disinterested in trade. It is a very
unhospitable place."
At a highly polished table, you overhear the bulky, golden-bearded man say in northern-accented
sirihish, chucling suddenly before speaking:
"And no, I'm not thinking you may be in league with those barbarians!"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf:
"Yes. It has. You are doing good, I suppose?"
The scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf sends you a telepathic message:
"Not too badly... and yourself?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf:
"Not good. But not bad either. Came here with a couple companions, and I guess I will have to
stay here for a while."
The scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf sends you a telepathic message:
"I see. Anything I can help with?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf:
"Actually, I believe there is something you can help."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf:
"As I said I came with a couple of companions. One woman, near twenty three years old and
one baby."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf:
"The woman has sleekly built body, green eyes, and is blonde braided hair."
At a highly polished table, you overhear the bulky, golden-bearded man say in northern-accented
sirihish, smiling broadly at the light-tressed young man:
"Of course! Not only would you be serving our glorious City, but also myself."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf:
"The baby is just a few weeks old. Has my eyes, and blonde hair. What I would ask is.."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf:
"These two, just like me are "southern scums"."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf:
"I believe I can take care of myself when it comes to it. But I don't think they can."
The male wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap rubs his temple
slowly, with a soft grunt.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf:
"Would you be able to help them, if they were in some kind of trouble?"
The scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf sends you a telepathic message:
"I will protect them to the best of my ability, just as if they were citizens..."
The scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf stops using a jeweled, ivory-hilted bone longsword.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf:
"Thank you. I think I can pay you for your troubles in it."
The scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf loads a jeweled, ivory-hilted bone longsword into an
ivory-bound wooden scabbard with a *snap*.
At a highly polished table, you overhear the bulky, golden-bearded man say in northern-accented
sirihish, a grin appearing upon his fat face:
"I think you stand a very good chance of meeting with them and surviving the encounter, to
deliver my offer to their leaders."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf:
"Aside from these two, I think the rest is an easy task."
You send a telepathic message to the scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf:
"I mean.. For me."
The scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf sends you a telepathic message:
"We can worry about that later... tell them to seek me out if they need help."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf:
"Thank you. I will tell it now."
The scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf sends you a telepathic message:
"What is her name"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf:
"Sophie."
The scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf sends you a telepathic message:
"Alright then... tell Sophie if she needs me, find myself or ask any Legionnaire for Corporal
Vaashir. They will find my mind."
The male wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap massages to his
temple with a pair of pale fingers.
The scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf sends you a telepathic message:
"Hope business goes well for you."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Thus he ensured their safety, or so he thought. A few weeks after, he realized he was wrong.
After all, few things stayed as expected in Zalanthas.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Submitter's note:
Haadith died, but the concequences of his actions still echoed even
after his death. Veralius Borsail wanted to destroy everything
that was left of...
Continue Reading...The Criminal, part III: "I am sorry old friend."
Added on Feb 7, 2007Leaving Rocker in the dungeons, Serpent is sent out to finish Haadith. To save his man from the prison, he had to give up on the old friend
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Submitter's note:
This is the final part of the story of the fall of Templar Haadith Oash of Allanak. Here, in the final part, you will see how the story ends.
I have edited the log many times, deleting some passages of conversations, mindtalks, and some emotes and I have also replaced some names/actions as **censored** to avoid passing some information that better kept as it is. I hope you find it a good read.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
* Leaving Rocker in the jails, Serpent heads to the alleys in search of Haadith. The sanctuary
* he provided, would also be the place where he could find his old friend.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A Cluttered Office [WD]
This tiny square chamber is unfurnished save for a battered desk
behind with a few crates serving as seating behind it. The room has no
visible exits, save back to the bar and contains no windows. Dust clings
heavy in the air and there is a smell of decay and rot about the place that
has likely been present for centuries. The stone walls are stacked with
battered crates, all arranged in a haphazard fashion and tilting madly in
several different directions.
A pink-flowered plant is rooted here, its leaves exuding a sharp scent.
A gwoshi carved wooden chest sits here.
A couple of open shelved cabinets are here.
A large wooden crate is here, stacked neatly in the corner.
A rough hide sleeping mat lies on the floor here.
The short, scar-faced man is sitting at a long, low and cracked clay table.
The short figure in a dusty dark, hooded cloak is sitting at a long, low and cracked clay table.
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man walks over a long, low and cracked clay table, setting over a crate.
The short, scar-faced man gets a large bag from a bone-studded backpack.
You sit at a long, low and cracked clay table.
Rummaging around his large bag, the short, scar-faced man sits at a long, low and cracked clay
table.
Slim of build and soft of feature, this man's unscathed pale skin
wraps
itself delicately around high, well-born features. Boyishly smooth, his
face is comely in Zalanthan terms, neither overly obese nor malnourished,
but is rounded in way that would indicate he was clearly well fed but has
avoided the pitfalls of gluttony. His set of piercing jade eyes, are framed
by thick, black lashes and he most notably seems almost with out trace of
scar or line of age. His long, ebony hair, is well lathered with sweet
scented oils and has been brushed straight to luxurious shine then twisted
into a soft braid and is often tossed delicately behind his shoulder.
The short figure in a dusty dark, hooded cloak is in excellent condition.
The short figure in a dusty dark, hooded cloak is using:
<worn on face> a thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap
<worn across back> a bone-studded backpack
<primary hand> a sharp, well-balanced bone halfsword
<worn around body> a dusty dark, hooded cloak
<worn on legs> a pair of patched sandcloth pants
<worn on feet> a dusty pair of black, soft leather boots
The short, scar-faced man takes his blue silk sash out of his large bag, eyeing at the short figure
in a dusty dark, hooded cloak.
The short, scar-faced man holds a blue silk sash.
At your table, the short figure in a dusty dark, hooded cloak says in southern-accented sirihish:
"So..."
The short figure in a dusty dark, hooded cloak looks at the short, scar-faced man.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the gargantuan, battle-scarred mul with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the gargantuan, battle-scarred mul:
"Hork.. With me?"
The short figure in a dusty dark, hooded cloak eyes the short, scar-faced man's sash for a moment,
before flickering his gaze to you.
The short, scar-faced man looks at you awaiting.
Easily, but with some hestiation, the short figure in a dusty dark, hooded cloak says to you, in
southern-accented sirihish:
"We need to talk."
You send a telepathic message to the gargantuan, battle-scarred mul:
"In case Haadith comes out of the office, don't let him out."
You dissolve the psychic link.
At your table, you say in sirihish, to the short figure in a dusty
dark, hooded cloak:
"Yes. We need."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"about the lessons I guess."
The short, scar-faced man puts a blue silk sash inside a large bag.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the short, scar-faced man with the Way.
The short figure in a dusty dark, hooded cloak places his hands on the table, and pushes to his
feet slowly.
The short figure in a dusty dark, hooded cloak stands up from a long, low and cracked clay table.
The short figure in a dusty dark, hooded cloak says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Alone..."
The short figure in a dusty dark, hooded cloak turns his gaze to the short, scar-faced man.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the short, scar-faced man:
"After I nod, count to three in yourself, and then hold the door."
At your table, the short, scar-faced man says in sirihish, resting his palms at a long, low and
cracked clay table:
"Shall I take my leave, Chief?"
You dissolve the psychic link.
Gesturing at the empty seat, you say to the short figure in a
dusty dark, hooded cloak, in sirihish:
"Take a seat, we can send this one out."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The short figure in a dusty dark, hooded cloak pauses near the door, turning to you.
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman sends you a telepathic message:
"I am napping for a small bit.. it's been too much this week.. life has.."
The short figure in a dusty dark, hooded cloak sits at a long, low and cracked clay table.
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
Nodding to you, the short, scar-faced man stands up from a long, low and cracked clay table.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the short, scar-faced man with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the short, scar-faced man:
"Watch me.. When you see me rising to my feet, hold the door."
You dissolve the psychic link.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
You say to the short, scar-faced man, in sirihish:
"That thing looks nice."
The *censored* Magicker sends you a telepathic message:
"Boss you know any way of getting this gem off my neck without killing me?"
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
Before heading for the door, with a nod, the short, scar-faced man asks you, in sirihish:
"Yes, indeed. I guess, I'll give it after your talk with him. Hmm?"
Wetting his lips, you ask the short, scar-faced man, in sirihish:
"Well.. You saw Rocker?"
You are using:
<worn in hair> a thin leather headband
<worn around neck> a soft, grey-veined black neckband
<worn across back> a bone-studded backpack
<secondary hand> a translucent, crystalline longknife
<worn as belt> a finely-crafted pouched belt
<worn around body> a black skull-studded greatcloak
<worn about waist> a thin pouched belt
<worn on legs> a set of soft, grey-veined black leg-wraps
<worn on feet> a pair of soft, grey-veined black boots
At your table, the short figure in a dusty dark, hooded cloak says in southern-accented sirihish,
turning to the short, scar-faced man:
"Where did you get it?"
Turning back, when he reaches the door, with a shake of his head, the short, scar-faced man says to
you, in sirihish:
"No. I don't know what he's up to."
Mercy on.
The short figure in a dusty dark, hooded cloak raps his fingers nervously over a long, low and
cracked clay table, eyes flickering rapidly between the short, scar-faced man and you.
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man's eyes flickers back to the short figure in a dusty dark, hooded cloak.
At your table, you say in sirihish, turning to the short figure in
a dusty dark, hooded cloak:
"I am sorry old friend.. But things are turning bad. You are aware of it?"
You stand up from a long, low and cracked clay table.
You reach down and draw a razor-sharp, hawk-etched halfsword out of your boot.
You brandish the halfsword.
You begin moving silently toward your victim.
The short, scar-faced man begins guarding the west exit.
The short figure in a dusty dark, hooded cloak groans loudly as you thrust your halfsword up between
his ribs.
The short figure in a dusty dark, hooded cloak's eyes roll back in his head.
A sharp, well-balanced bone halfsword clatters to the ground as the short figure in a dusty dark,
hooded cloak releases it.
The short figure in a dusty dark, hooded cloak crumples to the ground.
The short, scar-faced man draws an obsidian dagger.
The short, scar-faced man draws an obsidian dagger.
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man shakes his head, crouching near the short figure in a dusty dark, hooded cloak.
The short, scar-faced man looks down at the short figure in a dusty dark, hooded cloak standing at
his position near door.
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man touches to the short figure in a dusty dark, hooded cloak's neck, biting his lower lip.
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man quietly whispers under his breath, shaking his head.
You wound the short figure in a dusty dark, hooded cloak on his
back with a brutal stab.
Eyeing at the body of the soft-featured, black-haired man, with a grin, the short, scar-faced man
says to you, in sirihish:
"Clean job, Boss! "
Exhaling a soft sigh, you sit at a long, low and cracked clay
table.
You think:
"Could not learn to read and write fully."
The short, scar-faced man sheathes an obsidian dagger.
The short, scar-faced man sheathes an obsidian dagger.
The short, scar-faced man stops guarding the west exit.
The short, scar-faced man walks back toward a long, low and cracked clay table, stopping just to get
a sharp, well-balanced bone halfsword.
The short, scar-faced man picks up a sharp, well-balanced bone halfsword.
The short, scar-faced man puts a sharp, well-balanced bone halfsword on a long, low and cracked clay
table.
At your table, the short, scar-faced man says in sirihish, spitting on the body of the
soft-featured, black-haired man:
"So, what now?"
At your table, you say in sirihish, exhaling a soft breath:
"Nothing. I will get Rocker out of the Jail."
You stand up from a long, low and cracked clay table.
At a long, low and cracked clay table, you overhear the short, scar-faced man say in sirihish,
frowning:
"Is he in the jail?"
You nod to him.
Standing from a long, low and cracked clay table, the short, scar-faced man asks you, in sirihish:
"What do you want me to do with the body?"
You say to the short, scar-faced man, in sirihish:
"I will take off the head, and you drag the body.. To out.. I don't know."
Nodding, the short, scar-faced man says to you, in sirihish:
"Alright, it'll be done, before you're back with Rocker."
You say to the short, scar-faced man, in sirihish:
"There is the carpet in the cabinet.. Clean it in the southside.. To the Globulu..Whatever the
fuck's name."
The short, scar-faced man looks up at you lifting his gaze from the body of the soft-featured,
black-haired man, then nods.
You get a small pack from an open shelved cabinet.
It is very light, and empty.
You put a small pack inside an open shelved cabinet.
Gazing to an open shelved cabinet, the short, scar-faced man exclaims to you, in sirihish:
"Alright, Chief!"
You get a hooked knife from a gwoshi-hide knapsack.
It is very light.
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man kneels down next to the body of the soft-featured, black-haired man.
You brandish the knife.
You behead the body of the soft-featured, black-haired man.
A Cluttered Office [WD]
This tiny square chamber is unfurnished save for a battered desk
behind with a few crates serving as seating behind it. The room has no
visible exits, save back to the bar and contains no windows. Dust clings
heavy in the air and there is a smell of decay and rot about the place that
has likely been present for centuries. The stone walls are stacked with
battered crates, all arranged in a haphazard fashion and tilting madly in
several different directions.
The head of the soft-featured, black-haired man lies here.
The headless body of the soft-featured, black-haired man lies crumpled here.
A pink-flowered plant is rooted here, its leaves exuding a sharp scent.
A gwoshi carved wooden chest sits here.
A couple of open shelved cabinets are here.
A large wooden crate is here, stacked neatly in the corner.
A rough hide sleeping mat lies on the floor here.
The short, scar-faced man is sitting at a long, low and cracked clay table.
You pick up the head of the soft-featured, black-haired man.
It is very light, and empty.
You put the head of the soft-featured, black-haired man inside a
small pack.
You sit at a long, low and cracked clay table.
The short, scar-faced man stands by the headless body of the soft-featured, black-haired man, watching you in silence.
Glancing at the headless body of the soft-featured, black-haired man, you say to the short,
scar-faced man, in sirihish:
"You can take him out."
contact malenthis
You suffer from use of the Way.
You are unable to reach their mind.
The short, scar-faced man dips a nod to you, and kneels by the headless body of the soft-featured,
black-haired man.
The short, scar-faced man strains as he lifts the headless body of the soft-featured, black-haired
man.
The headless body of the soft-featured, black-haired man half rises from the ground.
The short, scar-faced man opens the door.
You say to the short, scar-faced man, in sirihish:
"And the sash.. Leave it in the chest if you want."
Holding the headless body of the soft-featured, black-haired man at the ankles, nodding, the short,
scar-faced man exclaims to you, in sirihish:
"I'll do it, when I'm done with this, Chief!"
The short, scar-faced man stands up from a long, low and cracked clay table.
The short, scar-faced man stealthily moves west, dragging the headless body of the soft-featured,
black-haired man behind him.
The short, scar-faced man closes the door from the other side.
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man rubs his forehead.
Your new objective is:
Delivering Haadith's head.
The short, scar-faced man opens the door from the other side.
The short, scar-faced man has arrived from the west.
The short, scar-faced man closes the door.
The short, scar-faced man walks over to a long, low and cracked clay table, checking the pockets of
his dusty dark, hooded cloak.
You send this message to the staff:
"Alright. For the sake of saving someone from boredom, there is someone in the jails, put
there till I deliver someone's head to the templarate. The pc templar said giving other templars
will work. Now both the templar and the prisoner..."
You send this message to the staff:
"Is there a chance I deliver the head to an NPC templar, explain the situation, and the PC is
taken off? For his playability issue, just for that. The prisoner and the templar PC. Both are logged off.Or do we have to wait for them both?"
The short, scar-faced man sits at a long, low and cracked clay table.
At your table, the short, scar-faced man says in sirihish, eyeing his blue silk sash in his hands,
with a broad grin:
"Maybe you might want to have a closer look on them, hmm?"
You say to the short, scar-faced man, in sirihish:
"Not now. I will go and get Rocker out."
You stand up from a long, low and cracked clay table.
Wiping his nose, you say to the short, scar-faced man, in sirihish:
"I will go and get him out."
A Cramped, Dingy Bar [EWU]
Were it not for the sheer overpowering vileness of the air outside,
this small and tightly-cramped room would scarcely seem a breath of
freshness at all. Thick, acrid smoke intermingles with the smell of
unwashed bodies, vomit, cheap booze, and ancient decay in the limited
confines of this room, creating a unique amalgam of foulness that even the
rough sensibilities of a dwarf would quail at. The walls of the room are
short and the roof is relatively low, giving one an acute claustrophobic
feeling that mirrors the feel of the surrounding alleyways with merciless
precision. A few crates are stacked here and there in a seemingly haphazard
array. Whatever their intended purpose, it appears as though patrons have
begun using them as seats in lieu of squatting on the ale-damp floor. The
center of the room draws your attention once your eyes have adjusted to the
change in lighting and reveals a strange stoneworked depression, roughly
three cords deep and ten cords across. Broken stonework sculptures surround
the edges of the depression in a seeming mockery of a gleeful dance.
Several battered crates with a thick slab of pure obsidian draped across
them seem to serve as a makeshift bar in a corner of the room. An equally
battered wooden door is situated just behind it.
Just beside the bar, a loosely hanging rope ladder disappears up into a
jagged hole in the ceiling of the room.
A multi-ringed dartboard hangs on a wall here.
A message board is propped up against a wall.
The lanky, dreadlocked man, is hanging out here lazily against the wall.
The muscular, hatchet-faced man stands here by the door.
The long-haired, scar faced man stands by the bar, arms over his chest.
The very short and thick male wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap is standing here.
The thick-set, sideburned bartender is here cleaning out mugs with a rag.
Brown drops slowly fall from the edge of a cask behind the bar, forming slowly from some unseen
leak.
A staff member sends:
"We'll watch the situation, but probably better if both are on. If he is stuck in there a long
time we'll release him."
You send this message to the staff:
"Hmm.. I will deliver the head to an NPC templar then. And tell him the situation. I plan to
log out soon. And will email the time he got in the jail, and the delivery time. The rest is up to
you and them I guess."
A staff member sends:
"That's great. Can you please email a log of the delivery to naiona@ginka.armageddon.org,
halaster@ginka.armageddon.org and the mud?"
You send this message to the staff:
"Of course. I will cc to my clan imms as well."
A staff member sends:
"Thanks!"
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The barrel-chested, dark-curled man sends you a telepathic message:
"Serpent. Interested in yet another bounty on a foolish sharp-ear?"
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the barrel-chested, dark-curled man with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the barrel-chested, dark-curled man:
"*Exhaustion* Sure.. Sure my Lord. There are lots of bounties these days. just on my way
delivering another head now. Who is the target?"
You hear a man's voice from the west say, in sirihish:
"Please, please, have pity on me."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
* Exhausted, Serpent walked back once more into the crowds of people. This time carrying
* the bag, that would set his man free from the dungeons, to end the hunt on his organisation.
* Meanwhile, his mind was still searched with other business offers.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
The barrel-chested, dark-curled man sends you a telepathic message:
"You know of an elf who calls himself Scar? He dresses like he's from the alleys. He has
yellowed eyes that are dull and lackluster, vacant?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the barrel-chested, dark-curled man with the Way.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The short, scar-eyed man sends you a telepathic message:
"Serpent. Do you have my head?"
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the barrel-chested, dark-curled man:
"Name I heard.. Also heard of the yellow eyed elf.. But never saw him myself. I will see what I
can dig up my Lord."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the short, scar-eyed man with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the short, scar-eyed man:
"Am I in my good day today? I was just on my way. Where do you want it?"
You dissolve the psychic link.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The short, scar-eyed man sends you a telepathic message:
"The gates of the Templars Quarters will be fine."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
The barrel-chested, dark-curled man sends you a telepathic message:
"Oh. And I've the feeling he may decide to watch me, from time to time. Just another place to
check for him."
Silently, the pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man makes his way out
of the crowds.
The short, scar-eyed templar looks up at you.
The short, scar-eyed templar lowers the hood of a blue, hooded templar's robe.
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man holds your small pack out,
giving a rough shake to it.
Extending your small pack to the short, scar-eyed templar, you say
to the short, scar-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Here is what you want."
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Think there's an elf .. by the name of Scar trailing me, weapons out.. he's roaming around, I
know."
You give a small pack to the short, scar-eyed templar.
The short, scar-eyed templar gives a small pack to the half-giant soldier.
You now follow the short, scar-eyed templar.
The short, scar-eyed templar gives the half-giant soldier an order.
The half-giant soldier gives a small pack to the short, scar-eyed templar.
The short, scar-eyed templar peers into his small pack, smiling thinly.
The short, scar-eyed templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Excellent work, Serpent."
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man exhales a soft breath.
You say to the short, scar-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Anytime, my Lord."
The short, scar-eyed templar gets the head of the soft-featured, black-haired man from a small
pack.
The short, scar-eyed templar puts the head of the soft-featured, black-haired man inside a small
pack.
The short, scar-eyed templar gets the head of the soft-featured, black-haired man from a small
pack.
The short, scar-eyed templar frowns, holding up his head of the soft-featured, black-haired man.
To his head of the soft-featured, black-haired man, holding it up by its hair, the short, scar-eyed
templar says, in southern-accented sirihish:
"You were always an idiot, Haadith."
The short, scar-eyed templar puts the head of the soft-featured, black-haired man inside a small
pack.
Lightly, the short, scar-eyed templar exclaims, in southern-accented sirihish:
"In you go!"
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man watches the short, scar-eyed
templar silently.
The short, scar-eyed templar closes a small pack.
A human soldier sends up a call to the wall to close the gates.
A human soldier closes the gate.
The short, scar-eyed templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Come...I'll give you what we agreed upon, and end this useless antipathy between us."
The short, scar-eyed templar walks north.
A human Allanaki soldier walks north.
The half-giant soldier walks north.
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man shuffles throught he crowds, following after a faint shape.
----------------------------------------------
* Quickly, in the escort of two soldiers, the templar and Serpent walk to the bazaar, and to the Nenyuki bank
----------------------------------------------
You follow a faint shape, and walk east.
House Nenyuk Bank [W]
This large mud brick building is lit with irrig lamps, a pale greenish
light fighting back the darkness seeping in through the doorway. A few
scribes sit towards the back of the room, making notation after notation in
fine, spidery handwriting, totting up the series of debits and credits
making up the finances of House Nenyuk. Behind the scribes, rows and rows
of locked wooden boxes are stacked in haphazard order. Near the door sits
the main clerk, flanked by guards, the desk in front of him littered with
transaction slips written on agafari paper.
The short, scar-eyed templar is standing here.
A heavy-set House Nenyuk banker sits behind a desk.
A tall, ash-haired guard watches her surroundings intently.
A human Allanaki soldier has arrived from the west.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the west.
Thoughtfully, as he makes his way to the Nenyuki banker, the short, scar-eyed templar asks you, in
southern-accented sirihish:
"So....how did the killing go?"
Looking at the desk idly, you say to the short, scar-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Just one hit.. And he hit to the ground."
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man rubs his temple, knitting his brows.
The short, scar-eyed templar gives you 13000 coins.
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man lifts the bag, testing its weight.
You say to the short, scar-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Looks heavier than I thought."
Nodding, the Nenyuki banker tells you, 'Thanks for your business.'
Smiling briefly, the short, scar-eyed templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"It is. I want you to understand that I hold no grudge."
You hear a man's voice shout from the west in southern-accented sirihish:
"Imported materials! Rare items!"
The short, scar-eyed templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"We can work together...or against each other. One way is profitable for us both...the other,
we simply end up killing one another."
With bow of his head, you say to the short, scar-eyed templar, in
sirihish:
"And I want you to know, that I apreciate your intelligence."
The short, scar-eyed templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Before the end of the day...hopefully the hour...any hunt against your people will be
ceased."
The short, scar-eyed templar nods at you.
You ask the short, scar-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"And when will Rocker return where he is supposed to be?"
The short, scar-eyed templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"I'll see that he's immediately released...and can get you your lost items back, if you wish."
You say to the short, scar-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"It would be very good indeed my Lord, if you would be that kind. I rather like my blades, if
you don't mind."
You hear a man's voice shout from the west in southern-accented sirihish:
"No blades can pierce these armors!"
The short, scar-eyed templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Rocker may have been transferred to another cell...so it may take a bit to release him, but he
should be out safe and sound."
The short, scar-eyed templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"I never got to torturing him...I'm fairly certain nobody else has, either."
Nodding, you say to the short, scar-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"So he truly was a guest then.. I see."
Nodding to you, the short, scar-eyed templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"I need to go by the Quarter, and get this taken care of. I'll find your mind when I'm going to
go by the jails to pick up your weapons."
You say to the short, scar-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Thank you My Lord. It has been a good week.. For forming such an allience."
With a thin smile, the short, scar-eyed templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Indeed, it has."
You hear a man's voice shout from the west in southern-accented sirihish:
"Imported materials! Rare items!"
You are no longer following anyone.
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man steps aside from the doorway, peering outside.
The short, scar-eyed templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Walk in His shadow, Serpent. You've done a great job. "
The short, scar-eyed templar walks west.
A human Allanaki soldier walks west.
The half-giant soldier walks west.
---------------------------------------------------
* Thus ended the story of Serpent's old friend, Lord Haadith Oash of the Blue. The effects of his
* final actions echoed for quite sometime even after his death. Meanwhile, Serpent found a new
* allience in the templarate. Due to some unfortunate events following afterwards, however, it did
* not grow strong. But in the end, little turn out as expected in Zalanthas.
---------------------------------------------------
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Submitter's note:
This is the final part of the story of the fall of Templar Haadith Oash
of Allanak. Here, in the final part, you will see how the story
ends.
I have edited the...
Continue Reading...The Criminal, part II: Tricked.
Added on Feb 6, 2007After the pass of two weeks of Zalanthan time, The Fallen Templar Haadith still has not been found. His former collegue Templar Malenthis Jal calls Serpent to send him after Haadith's tail.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Submitter's note:
This log is the second part of the story of the fall of Templar Haadith Oash of Allanak. In his time, Haadith Oash was a rather short-tempered, or one may call, a nasty templar, had been involved in many plots/projects, touched many PCs whether for good or ill. Here, I am giving you a snippet of events that had transpired, giving some light to his collegues work to erase him completely from the power struggle.
I have edited the log many times, deleting some passages of conversations, mindtalks, and some emotes and I have also replaced some names/actions as **censored** to avoid passing some information that better kept as it is. I hope you find it a good read.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Gesturing to a plain baobab table, the short, scar-eyed templar says to you, in southern-accented
sirihish:
"Take a seat."
With a nod, you sit at a plain baobab table.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the thin, ebony-skinned man with the Way.
The short, scar-eyed templar sits at a plain baobab table.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the thin, ebony-skinned man:
"Rocker.. His name.. Try reaching his mind."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the thin, ebony-skinned man:
"I am in Templar's company now."
You dissolve the psychic link.
At your table, the short, scar-eyed templar says in southern-accented sirihish, to you, with a dip
of his head:
"How has business been?"
At your table, you say in sirihish, rubbing his temple:
"Thank you for asking my Lord. It is good, that we occasionally continue taking contracts..
The new ones grow, and it goes on."
At your table, the short, scar-eyed templar says in southern-accented sirihish:
"Good...as I mentioned before...there is a reward out for the traitor, Haadith. "
At your table, the short, scar-eyed templar says in southern-accented sirihish:
"The Templarate was expecting him to die when he was expelled into the 'rinth."
At your table, you say in sirihish, wetting his lips:
"Five larges, if I heard it right."
At your table, the short, scar-eyed templar says in southern-accented sirihish, dipping his
head slightly:
"Yes. Though...I think I might double it, just to see him die."
At your table, you say in sirihish, dipping his head briefly:
"Surely. In my streets, he is an easy target."
At your table, you say in sirihish, If-:
"he is in the streets though."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"I mean -If- he is in the streets though."
The short, scar-eyed templar nods.
At your table, the short, scar-eyed templar says in southern-accented sirihish:
"Surely, he'd be easy to spot."
At your table, the short, scar-eyed templar says in southern-accented sirihish:
"However, I've heard rumors that he's managed to escape into the deserts somehow."
At your table, you say in sirihish, furrowing his brows:
"Possible."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"Sewers lead to the sands."
At your table, the short, scar-eyed templar says in southern-accented sirihish, nodding:
"Yes...I've heard. I'm thinking I might impliment a plan to patch up that hole in the
wastes..."
At your table, the short, scar-eyed templar says in southern-accented sirihish, thoughtfully, to
you:
"What do you think of that?"
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"How much time passed.. Two weeks by now?"
At your table, the short, scar-eyed templar says in southern-accented sirihish, nodding to you:
"Yes, two weeks..."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"If he aimed for the sands, he is probably out of that hole by now."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"He would not survive the sewers for two weeks to my guess anyway."
At your table, the short, scar-eyed templar says in southern-accented sirihish, nodding to you, with
a frown:
"Yes, he mentioned that he knew the layout of the sewers during his explorations while
protected with magicks."
At your table, you say in sirihish, pursing his lips:
"Red Storm.. Luirs. Some caves the hunters use.. Those can be his current hide out."
At your table, the short, scar-eyed templar says in southern-accented sirihish, to you:
"Well, we're reasonably certain he's alive. Its doubtful he, an Oash, is living with the
elves."
At your table, the short, scar-eyed templar says in southern-accented sirihish, nodding firmly:
"We searched some nearby caves when we heard he may have fled the 'rinth...so far to no
avail."
At your table, you say in sirihish, thoughtfully:
"There are.. Some hiding places in the sewers where one can live his entire life though..
Maybe.. He did not make it to the sands."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"Just a possibility."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"In case, he found any such location."
The short, scar-eyed templar purses his lips, and nods.
At your table, the short, scar-eyed templar says in southern-accented sirihish:
"Well...the Red Robes wish him dead...at any cost."
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man scratches his jawline.
You think:
"But the red robes sent him alive.."
You think:
"I can kill himm.. In several weeks."
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man scratches the single scar on
his cheek, a thoughtful look on his dull black gaze, as he nods once.
The short, scar-eyed templar holds up a hand, with a shrug, and a sigh.
At your table, the short, scar-eyed templar says in southern-accented sirihish, to you, his
head cocked:
"What are you thinking...or scheming, hmm?"
At your table, you say in sirihish, wetting his lips, and
shrugging:
"Well.. Time may be an issue here..."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"But I can outright say, I will kill him for you."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"I -will-, if someone does not do it first."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"The thing is, I have places to look, hunt, keep his track."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"But there is too little place he can get away."
At your table, the short, scar-eyed templar says in southern-accented sirihish, nodding slightly to
you:
"Mmm, hmm."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"He can just delay."
At your table, the short, scar-eyed templar says in southern-accented sirihish:
"Give me a timetable...when do I get his head?"
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man exhales a soft breath,
furrowing his brows.
At your table, you say in sirihish, wetting his lips:
"A month is my current guess. Ask me that time, and I will give you a more solid answer."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"Does it make the things too complicated?"
At your table, the short, scar-eyed templar says in southern-accented sirihish, tilting his
head back and forth:
"Yes, a bit. I was thinking before the end of the day, myself."
At your table, the short, scar-eyed templar says in southern-accented sirihish, raising a finger to
you:
"One moment."
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man lifts an eyebrow, nodding
slightly.
The short, scar-eyed templar stands up from a plain baobab table.
The short, scar-eyed templar points a smooth, obsidian orb at the pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man
and says 'mon'.
You feel a surge of energy enter your body, causing you to jerk spastically.
The energy drains from your body, and your body ceases to respond.
>stat
Archon of the The Guild, jobs: recruiter | leader |
Relationship to the land is neutral.
You are currently speaking sirihish.
You are affected by:
Paralyze
You are resting.
You are not refusing saves (nosave off).
You are not being merciful.
Smiling briefly, the short, scar-eyed templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Never lie to me, Serpent."
The short, scar-eyed templar gives the half-giant soldier an order.
You are hauled to your feet roughly.
The half-giant soldier subdues you, despite your attempts to struggle away.
The short, scar-eyed templar walks east.
The half-giant soldier walks east, dragging you behind him.
The Gladiator and the Gaj Tavern -- Main Room [NES]
This common room composes the bulk of the Gladiator and the Gaj
Tavern, a bustling establishment founded in the Year of Suk-Krath's
Defiance of the 19th age. A cacophony of sounds fills the inn, from the
busy murmur of the many merchants that frequent the location to the
howling of the crowd, greeting the arriving news of the latest arena
fight, to the drunken whine of the hundreds of commonfolk that have made
the place famous. Stout wooden beams support the panelled roof of the
room, each bearing many drawings carved by the patrons of the tavern.
An agafari-wood bar dominates the western side of the room, the shelves
behind it supporting the weight of many alcoholic beverages. Wood and
stone tables with matching chairs are strewn all over the chamber in
clusters as to allow waiters and waitresses to circulate with ease. A
raised platform has been erected in the northeastern corner for the
messengers and hawkers hired by the establishment that relay the latest
news from the arena.
To the north, a scarred tarp of carru hide leads out onto the busy
Caravan Way. Flickering yellow and orange light spills out from the
southern room of the tavern, where the meals are prepared and where
travellers may roast their raw meat for free. Eastwards lies the public
sleeping area, while a door lies behind the bar, most likely a back
room.
A wall here is designated as a message board.
The short, scar-eyed templar is standing here.
A human soldier of Tektolnes walks along here.
The towering, golden-haired half-giant is here, crouched beside a table.
The hairy, dark-skinned woman watches the room from beside the bar here.
The lean, sun-reddened woman laughs as she talks at a large table here.
A dark-skinned human barkeep stands behind the bar.
The brutally-scarred orange dwarf sits here at a table, drinking heavily.
The angular, silver-eyed man is here, leaning casually against a wall.
The short, scar-eyed templar points a finger at you, and gestures for nearby guards.
______________________________________
They move directly to the jails, the templar leading the way, Serpent held by the magicks and the soldiers, they make it to the dungeons with no struggle.
----------------------------------------
The short, scar-eyed templar walks east.
A human Allanaki soldier walks east.
The half-giant soldier walks east, dragging you behind him.
Allanaki Jail [NESW]
Large blocks of red stone make up the walls of this building, the same
type used to make the city walls most certainly, since they look so similar.
This center room of the building is totally devoid of furnishings, save a wide
bench along the east wall. Cells lie to the north and south, both of which
issue forth the smell of filth and rot.
The short, scar-eyed templar is standing here.
A human soldier of Tektolnes walks along here.
A surly, half-giant member of the Allanaki militia is here, acting as jailer.
The short, scar-eyed templar gives the half-giant soldier an order.
A soldier shoves you towards the surly, half-giant jailer.
The surly, half-giant jailer summons a pair of soldiers, who strip you of your weapons.
The surly, half-giant jailer opens the northern door, and throws you inside.
the surly, half-giant jailer closes the door from the other side, and you hear a key turn in its
lock.
A small window on the cell door opens, flooding the room with light before closing again.
Darkness
Total darkness surrounds you, preventing you from seeing anything
at all. You have trouble telling where you put your feet when you walk.
The surly, half-giant jailer opens the cell door, and you are hauled out.
Allanaki Jail [NESW]
Large blocks of red stone make up the walls of this building, the same
type used to make the city walls most certainly, since they look so similar.
This center room of the building is totally devoid of furnishings, save a wide
bench along the east wall. Cells lie to the north and south, both of which
issue forth the smell of filth and rot.
A half-giant soldier of Tektolnes walks along here.
The short, scar-eyed templar is standing here.
A human soldier of Tektolnes walks along here.
A surly, half-giant member of the Allanaki militia is here, acting as jailer.
The surly, half-giant jailer closes and locks the cell door, and motions to a soldier.
A soldier grabs the pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man around the arm, and escorts him to the west.
A soldier takes you by the arm, and escorts you to the gate.
Templars' Way [NSW]
Templars' Way stretches north and south through the very heart of the
crowded city. The road is made of large, black-colored stones that are
covered with dust, dung, and other unsavory materials. It passes under the
Arena's morbid shadow, a gigantic structure standing to the east. Bustling
with activity, the Commoners' Quarter lies to the west. Crowds pass along
the street, hurrying on errands and avoiding the keen-eyed glances of the
templars and soldiers who use this way.
Directly south stands the gate to the Templars' quarter, its carved
stone form arching overhead. West Dragon's Path runs along a wall that
stretches to the west, enclosing the Templar's quarter and separating it
from the noise and filth of the Commoners' quarter, which lies to the
northwest.
A human soldier of Tektolnes stands here, guarding the Templar Quarter.
The tall, slight man is standing here.
A human soldier sends up a call to the wall to close the gates.
A human soldier closes the gate.
stat
Archon of the The Guild, jobs: recruiter | leader |
Relationship to the land is neutral.
You are currently speaking sirihish.
You are affected by:
Paralyze
You are standing.
You are not refusing saves (nosave off).
You are not being merciful.
contact effen
You can't move.
The short, scar-eyed templar opens the gate from the other side.
The short, scar-eyed templar has arrived from the south.
A human Allanaki soldier has arrived from the south.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the south.
The short, scar-eyed templar gives the half-giant soldier an order.
The half-giant soldier subdues you, despite your attempts to struggle away.
The short, scar-eyed templar points a finger at you, and gestures for nearby guards.
You think:
"Wait.."
The short, scar-eyed templar looks up at you.
You think:
"Wait.."
You think:
"Wait for it.."
Tisking, and shaking his head, the short, scar-eyed templar asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Not a very smart Jailer, is he?"
You think:
"Wait for it damn it."
The short, scar-eyed templar gives the half-giant soldier an order.
A soldier shoves you towards the surly, half-giant jailer.
The surly, half-giant jailer summons a pair of soldiers, who strip you of your weapons.
The surly, half-giant jailer opens the northern door, and throws you inside.
the surly, half-giant jailer closes the door from the other side, and you hear a key turn in its
lock.
A small window on the cell door opens, flooding the room with light before closing again.
Darkness
Total darkness surrounds you, preventing you from seeing anything
at all. You have trouble telling where you put your feet when you walk.
You think:
"Wait for it.."
A small window on the cell door opens, flooding the room with light before closing again.
You think:
"You don't know how we can work this out..damn it."
A small window on the cell door opens, flooding the room with light before closing again.
Someone closes the door.
Stepping close to you, and hissing in your ear, a male voice says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Hello, Serpent."
A male voice shouts, in southern-accented sirihish:
"In the name of the Highlord, let the foul magicks present here be cleansed!"
Someone utters an incantation.
Your body relaxes, and you can move again.
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man coughs, dropping to his
feet.
A male voice says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"I suppose you're wondering why you're here."
Wiping his mouth, gasping for breath, you say, in sirihish:
"I am quite.. impressed my Lord. I have to say."
Someone closes something.
A male voice says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Well. I -am- the Lord Templar Malenthis Jal."
Piercing wails of torment flood into the cell from one nearby.
A male voice asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Ahh...did you hear that?"
His chest heaving up and down, you say, in sirihish:
"I am.. cursing myself.. Why I did not ally myself with you in the first place."
You say, in sirihish:
"Oh? Of course, my Lord."
A male voice says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"That may be a very familiar sound to you in the near future."
A male voice says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Yes? I'm quite surprised, myself...Haadith was always an idiot."
rest
You sit down and rest your tired bones.
A male voice asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Do you know why you're here?"
On his knees, his breathing slowing down, you say, in sirihish:
"I am wondering it."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the thick-set, sideburned bartender with the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the thick-set, sideburned bartender:
"I am dying Effen. In the dungeons.. In Malenthis' hand. Templar Malenthis Jal."
A pained, wailing moan echoes down from another cell.
Smiling briefly, a male voice says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Oh...come now...take a guess."
Pursing his lips, sitting more comfortably on the dirty floor, you ask, in sirihish:
"Well.. Let's see.. You don't like to wait one month?"
A male voice says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Mmm...close."
Wetting his lips, you ask, in sirihish:
"You want to have something today. Closer?"
A male voice says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Much closer."
Exhaling softly, you say, in sirihish:
"Well.. Ideas are running through my mind Lord Templar. Clearly.."
His voice lowering to a quiet low, the sounds of ruffling silk as if he's crouching down to your level, a male voice says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"I'm sure there are."
A male voice says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"You see, Serpent...I know where Haadith is."
Raising his finger to his lips, in a mock-whisper, a male voice exclaims to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Shhh! Don't tell! Its a secret!"
Coughing a few times, and wiping his mouth, you say, in sirihish:
"Oh.. My Lord, do not insult my intelligence. Please."
You say, in sirihish:
"Maybe I made a dumb mistake."
You ask, in sirihish:
"A big one. Eh?"
A male voice says, in southern-accented sirihish:
"A -very- big one."
You say, in sirihish:
"But that made me know you bettr."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the sleek, honey-eyed young woman with the Way.
Nodding slightly, a male voice says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"I'm certain it did...let me show you something..."
A male voice says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Ah...well, you won't be able to see it in this light."
You send a telepathic message to the sleek, honey-eyed young woman:
"I think, Sophie.. I will die today at Malenthis hands. Keep the coins for the child, that I gave you."
Someone opens something.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the sleek, honey-eyed young woman:
"If you can't do it, give the child to the Rocker.. Or whoever in the Guild's control."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the sleek, honey-eyed young woman:
"I love you."
You dissolve the psychic link.
The sound of unrolling parchment fills the air as someone unrolls his something.
A male voice says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"I know you can't see it..but in my hands is a scroll. I assure you, I can read it just fine in this light."
Curiously, a male voice asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Would you like to know what it says?"
With a nod, exhaling softly, you say, in sirihish:
"I am all too curious about it."
With a soft chuckle, a male voice says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"It says, simply: Lord Templar Malenthis Jal has been credited with learning that the Guild may be involved with somehow hiding and protecting Haadith while in the 'rinth. "
A male voice says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Therefore, the Blue robes of the War Ministry are given instructions any and all Guild members we know are to be detained, tortured, and killed untill Haadith is captured or killed."
Pursing his lips, you say, in sirihish:
"Quite informative."
The sound of parchment crinkling as he seems to poke his something, a male voice says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Yes. Theres this little bit at the bottom that also says we're supposed to inform you of why."
You ask, in sirihish:
"So.. Forgive my curiosity, but.. Why?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the thick-set, sideburned bartender with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the thick-set, sideburned bartender:
"Tell all the Guilders to step back into the rinth and do not go out."
A male voice says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Because you've been harboring a fugitive the Templarate wants dead. Don't try to deny it. I know."
Exhaling a soft breath, you say, in sirihish:
"So my Lord.. I am assuming..."
A male voice asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Yes?"
Adding on, you say, in sirihish:
".. You will eventually get Haadith. Through me."
Lifting a shoulder in a shrug, a male voice says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"We know his exact location...think of it as a...sound business choice."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the soot-stubbled, jet-curled man with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the soot-stubbled, jet-curled man:
"Do not step to the southside.. At all.. And tell all the guilders to do the same."
A male voice says, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Consider it: either his head is given to me...or his living body..."
A male voice says, in southern-accented sirihish:
"OR...a Legion of troops descends upon the Labyrinth, gets him anyway..."
You say, in sirihish:
"Head is easy. I don't like run aways, and chasing. I am a little old for that I guess."
Wetting his lips, you say, in sirihish:
"Legions.. No don't go over that."
You say, in sirihish:
"You will lose more than you think.. Believe me."
You say, in sirihish:
"After you strike me with your keen intelligent side, I would not want that."
Exhaling a soft breath, you say, in sirihish:
"Easy thing."
You say, in sirihish:
"There is always an easier way, and you know it."
A male voice says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Yes...a few casualties would be taken..perhaps some less-than-expendables. "
A male voice says, in southern-accented sirihish:
"There is. It involves Rocker."
You say, in sirihish:
"Rocker can't kill him."
A male voice asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Then you'll simply find someone who can, won't you?"
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man shakes his head to either sides.
You say, in sirihish:
"That is exactly -me- you are talking about."
You say, in sirihish:
"I can kill him. Rocker is not enough of a killer."
Sighing, a male voice says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"A pity, then, for the GUild. You're going to be here...likely getting tortured, and eventually killed."
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man grunts softly.
A male voice says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Meanwhile, all the Blue robes of the wWar Ministry are going to be on the streets, pulling in all their contacts, and everyone they know from the Guild..."
A male voice says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"And that list is...quite substantial."
You ask, in sirihish:
"My Lord, just think on.. What you really want. You want Haadith, yes?"
A male voice says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Yes. And I'd love to maintain good relations with The Guild."
A male voice says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"However...the Guild has proven itself to be a less than reliable business partner."
You say, in sirihish:
"Your way, Rocker can lose him.. Wounded.. Or gets himself wounded.. And your target runs away. These are possible."
A male voice says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"And I don't mean to myself. I mean to the Templarate."
Shaking his head, you say, in sirihish:
"Let me say my offer."
A soft chuckle echoing in the dark dungeon, a male voice says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"...I'm listening."
You say, in sirihish:
"Lets go to Nenyuk.. I will give you ten larges, your bounty.. I will then head to rinth, take off a head. Bring it back. And take my ten larges back."
You say, in sirihish:
"Haadith does not worth ten."
You say, in sirihish:
"Not in his current state"
Nodding slowly, a male voice says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Mmmm...an interesting offer."
You say, in sirihish:
"So it is sure I will bring it back."
A male voice says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Sadly, I've known far too many criminal types who've given me similar offers, and gone and buggered off."
A sigh echoing through the cold dungeon air, a male voice says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"...I never hear from them again."
A male voice says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"You've proven yourself to be less than trustworthy. I'd need a larger marker."
Exhaling softly, you say, in sirihish:
"Oh come now.."
You say, in sirihish:
"You are getting Haadith for no charges.. And just the same day you want."
A male voice says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Perhaps Rocker will still be of use. We'll do it your way...but you'll have Rocker present himself to me before I release you."
An odd scratching noise is heard on the outside of the cell door.
A male voice says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Rocker will be a...guest...of the Templarate, untill I see Haadith's head."
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man scratches his jawline.
A massive half-giant soldier walks by, glaring into the cell before moving on.
You say, in sirihish:
"By a -guest-, I hope we are having the same idea."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the soot-stubbled, jet-curled man with the Way.
Offering a laugh, a male voice says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Use your imagination. Perhaps it will give you incentive."
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man chuckles quietly.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the soot-stubbled, jet-curled man:
"Rocker.. I might have a way out."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the soot-stubbled, jet-curled man:
"It is through you."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the soot-stubbled, jet-curled man:
"They want me to kill Haadith. And you in the meanwhile will take my place."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the soot-stubbled, jet-curled man:
"When Haadith dies, they will release you."
A male voice says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"I'll let you think about it for a few minutes."
Someone opens the door.
You say, in sirihish:
"Alright.. You have it."
Light pours into the dungeon as someone opens the door.
A male voice asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Hmm?"
You say, in sirihish:
"Just some light.. I guess Rocker is trying to find my mind."
A male voice says, in southern-accented sirihish:
"I'll see what I can do."
You say, in sirihish:
"Er.. "
You get a leather-strapped green glow-crystal from a black
skull-studded greatcloak.
It is very light.
You light a leather-strapped green glow-crystal.
The area is filled with a green light.
You fasten a shining leather-strapped green glow-crystal around your right ankle.
The Dungeons of Allanak [S]
The solid stone walls of this massive chamber rise up twenty cords, to
accommodate the larger criminals of the city's streets. The floor has
been laid with the same stone used in making the walls, and is covered
with decades, possibly centuries, of filth. There are no furnishings
here, nor any windows for lighting.
Several tiny, dead cockroaches are here.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the soot-stubbled, jet-curled man:
"You can get to my mind now"
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
You stop using a shining leather-strapped green glow-crystal.
You extinguish a shining leather-strapped green glow-crystal.
The area is enveloped in darkness.
The soot-stubbled, jet-curled man sends you a telepathic message:
"I'm ready, Boss... They gonna let me take some spice with me, to pass the hours? ....I don't wanna spend too long in that fucking hole, mind you."
You send a telepathic message to the soot-stubbled, jet-curled man:
"Oh.. Let me see. Stay in my mind."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the short, scar-eyed man with the Way.
Someone opens the door from the other side.
You send a telepathic message to the short, scar-eyed man:
"You don't mind if he takes some spice with him? He says, if it takes too long in a hole, he needs it."
The area is filled with a yellow light.
The short, scar-eyed templar has arrived from the south.
A human Allanaki soldier has arrived from the south.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the south.
The short, scar-eyed templar closes the door.
His scarred brows raised, the short, scar-eyed templar asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Are you serious?"
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
Tiredly, the pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man leans his back to the cell wall.
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Ahh... Serpent."
Shaking his head slightly, the short, scar-eyed templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"I don't believe you're in a position to make many demands."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the soot-stubbled, jet-curled man with the Way.
Narrowing his good eye, the short, scar-eyed templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Particularly illegal ones."
With a sigh, rubbing his temple, you say to the short, scar-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Let me tell that to him."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the soot-stubbled, jet-curled man:
"Rocker.. It won't take long."
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"I have a question for you."
You dissolve the psychic link.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You are unable to reach their mind.
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"...once you have a free moment to answer it."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the delicate, ebon-curled woman with the Way.
The soot-stubbled, jet-curled man sends you a telepathic message:
"I'm ready, then. I trust you, Boss."
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"Oh.. Shoot is fast, because I am about to die, my lady."
The sepia-skinned, blue-eyed man sends you a telepathic message:
"If you have need of me, I'm available in the temple. Also, what is our stance on the situation Haadith?"
Rubbing his temple, you say to the short, scar-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Not too eager, but he believes I will not make it long."
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Die? Why?"
Dipping his head slightly, the short, scar-eyed templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Naturally."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"It is a loooong story my Lady."
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Did anyone tried to hire the Guild to kill Sophie?"
Pushing up the dirty floor, you rise and stand.
The short, scar-eyed templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Tell me...who else has come into contact with Haadith...."
The short, scar-eyed templar asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"And what were you planning on doing with him?"
You say to the short, scar-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"No one else.. Just the eastsider undead magickers tried to buy him."
You say to the short, scar-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"And my idea was to extract information from him, in the meanwhile."
The short, scar-eyed templar tisks, shaking his head.
You say to the short, scar-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"One month is enough for it. You know."
Leaning over to you, the short, scar-eyed templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Between you and I...he doesn't know much."
The short, scar-eyed templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"You would have been beter off selling him to the undead eastsider magickers."
Pursing his lips, you say to the short, scar-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"With your keen side, my Lord, I am more inclined to believe you anyways."
With a thin smile, the short, scar-eyed templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Oh. Now you're just blowing smoke up my ass."
You say to the short, scar-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"By the way, your guards are overpaid."
You say to the short, scar-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I am stripped off my weapons twice.. Yet I still have two with me."
The short, scar-eyed templar asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Really?"
You say to the short, scar-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Guess they are for the target."
Pointing down to your boots, the short, scar-eyed templar asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Not in your boots are they?"
You say to the short, scar-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"You are really keen."
The soot-stubbled, jet-curled man sends you a telepathic message:
"So? Am I meeting you, or should I run off for some snatch before they lock me up?"
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
You ask the short, scar-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"So.. Where should Rocker come?"
The short, scar-eyed templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Have him meet me at the gates to the Templars quarters."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the soot-stubbled, jet-curled man with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the soot-stubbled, jet-curled man:
"Come to the Templar's quarter gates."
You dissolve the psychic link.
You hear a screeching sob from outside the cell as another prisoner is taken to their cell.
You now follow the short, scar-eyed templar.
Chuckling slightly, and holding up a hand, the short, scar-eyed templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"You'll be staying here, I'm afraid."
You are no longer following anyone.
The short, scar-eyed templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Not that I don't trust you...but I'd be a fool to let you go before I had the marker."
Glancing where the sound comes, you say to the short, scar-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Oh.. This is a very crowded place by the way. I have not ended up here much."
The short, scar-eyed templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Yes...quite. That might be one of your associates."
Leaning back to the wall, and sitting on the dirty floor, you sit down and rest your tired bones.
Shaking his head, you say to the short, scar-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I don't think so. But who knows."
The short, scar-eyed templar lifts a shoulder in a shrug.
You say to the short, scar-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Alright my Lord. I am waiting."
The short, scar-eyed templar opens the door.
The short, scar-eyed templar walks south.
The area is enveloped in darkness.
Someone closes the door from the other side.
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
contact shareyn
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the delicate, ebon-curled woman with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"No.. No one."
A small window on the cell door opens, flooding the room with light before closing again.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"Forgive the delay in the answer, I was a little busy near dying."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"Hmm.. By the way, have I told you are very beautiful?"
You get a leather-strapped green glow-crystal from a black skull-studded greatcloak.
It is very light.
You light a leather-strapped green glow-crystal.
The area is filled with a green light.
You fasten a shining leather-strapped green glow-crystal around your right ankle.
The Dungeons of Allanak [S]
The solid stone walls of this massive chamber rise up twenty cords, to
accommodate the larger criminals of the city's streets. The floor has
been laid with the same stone used in making the walls, and is covered
with decades, possibly centuries, of filth. There are no furnishings
here, nor any windows for lighting.
Several tiny, dead cockroaches are here.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
You stop using a shining leather-strapped green glow-crystal.
You extinguish a shining leather-strapped green glow-crystal.
The area is enveloped in darkness.
You put something inside a black skull-studded greatcloak.
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"..."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"Anyway.. Maybe I don't die. But to answer your question.."
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Is your situation better?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"No. We have no contract on Sophie."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"My situation? Not very much. But a little."
You are getting hungry.
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"What would you want to not accept any?"
A small irrig beetle hovers along the ceiling, splashing the walls with a faint green light before flitting away.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"Accept what? Offer?"
A tiny, brown cockroach scuttles to the middle of the floor, stops, then falls over dead.
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Yes. It is possible someone will come and ask. I want Sophie alive."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"Forgive my curiosity.. I don't usually ask it but, this is a dying man's wish yes? What do you mean exactly? Who will come and why?"
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"I think there are two important man who might want to see her dead. Lord Templar Malenthis
might be a one of them."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"For what? Just to give a kick on Haadith?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"And is the other one Veralius?"
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Yes."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"Yes to what?"
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Yes, the second one could be my Lord Cousin Veralius."
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"I want Sophie alive. So I thought pay for her protection might be a good step."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"The usual protection payment, we can count for her. Since she is additional head, and is no advisor, we will ask for an additional one large per year."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"Sound good?"
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Yes."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"Good. Next time the time for renewing the deal comes, you better add it and say the reason to the collector."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"If I die, the one after me will still hold onto the deal."
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"How is your dying going?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"Hmm.. A little slow and boring I should say."
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"I meant... do not you want to share the story? Maybe I can do something..."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"Well.. You can.. Maybe."
Piercing wails of torment flood into the cell from one nearby.
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Mhmmm?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"Malenthis has half the mind to kill me, the other half is making a deal. Though, after I complete his deal.."
You are getting hungry.
A group of shuffling footsteps moves by the door of the cell.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"He still might consider killing."
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"What kind of deal is that?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"If you want me alive, I don't know if you do, you can give him the idea maybe.. That there are somethings I have done and doing for you maybe. I am not sure if it will work at all. Maybe you should just watch. Both works."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"Ahh.. Nothing. Just killing Haadith."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"He wants it today."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"I still like you either way, my Lady."
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Well... why your superiors do not do something?"
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"If he decides to make a deal with you, cannot you... avoid him?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"My superiors are probably into someting now. They will do something after I die eventually. Guess it will be still convenient but a little late."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"Oh.. I can kill Haadith. Today."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"The thing is, he can kill me after the delivery of the head."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"The fun part of the dealings with templars is that. They always have a surprise in their sleeves."
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Umm... question is... why will you deliver the head yourself?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"Hmm.. Good question. I don't know."
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"You know where Haadith is?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"Hmm.. Kind of."
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"And Malenthis knows you do?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"Yes. You are on the right track."
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Which is the reason he wants you to die? Or is there anything else?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"There is a little more detail too, but we can pretty much say that is the reason."
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Hmm,,"
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Irritating."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"Oh.. I would not want someone beautiful like you to be irritated my Lady."
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"I would not want someone capable like you to die for a stupidity, Serpent."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"I am flattered, my Lady. Thank you."
You are hungry.
You think:
"Need to eat."
A small window on the cell door opens, flooding the room with light before closing again.
You dissolve the psychic link.
Someone opens the door from the other side.
Someone closes the door.
Darkness
Total darkness surrounds you, preventing you from seeing anything
at all. You have trouble telling where you put your feet when you walk.
A male voice says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"An interesting little enforcer you have there, Serpent."
Blinking his eyes as the darkness resettles, you say, in sirihish:
"Hmm? He is."
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Oh well. I will wish you luck. I am not sure what can I do more right now... hmmm... I will try something, though."
A male voice asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Tell me...what will you be doing, now that he's taken over your crew?"
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
You say, in sirihish:
"I am already doing what I will be doing. Supervising him."
A male voice asks, in southern-accented sirihish:
"And I imagine a few other crews at that, hmm?"
A male voice says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"He seems to think that what the Templarate is doing is a mistake."
You ask, in sirihish:
"Oh?"
Nodding slightly, a male voice says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Yes. He seems to think if we attack the Guild...many will die, all over."
A male voice asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Do you have a similar point of view?"
Bobbing his head slightly, you ask, in sirihish:
"Well.. Kind of. That is why I just said to go on the easier way, have not I?"
A male voice says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Mmm. Indeed."
Shrugging his shoulders in the darkness, you say, in sirihish:
"My idea."
A male voice says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Yes. Which is why I'm so hestant to go with it."
A male voice says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Afterall, my orders remain...and I've managed to to capture -two- notorious Guilders in one afternoon."
A male voice asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Perhaps I should skip it, and go on to the torture and death part?"
A commanding voice echoes through the shadows outside the cell, followed by cries of pain and
several cracks of a whip.
Pursing his lips, you say, in sirihish:
"Well.. I am sure it will be amusing. To torture two people, and have fun. But I think you are smarter than that."
You say, in sirihish:
"You can always have your fun with easy targets."
You say, in sirihish:
"But not all of them can give you your target."
A male voice says, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Indeed."
A male voice says, in southern-accented sirihish:
"I'll give you half of a week to bring me his head."
Leaning back and resting his head over the dirty wall, you ask, in sirihish:
"Come now my Lord. Do you really believe you need some deadline to make sure what you want?"
A male voice says, in southern-accented sirihish:
"After that...I'm not certain that my generous protection will be able to hold out...and Rocker - and any other Guilders I find - may begin paying."
You say, in sirihish:
"I will give you today."
A male voice says, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Oh, good. Well, lets get started, then."
Someone lights something.
The area is filled with a yellow light.
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"That is me, Serpent. I was just wondering how are you doing."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the delicate, ebon-curled woman with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"Still debating if I should die or live my Lady. How are you doing?"
You dissolve the psychic link.
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Sitting in a garden and enjoying weather."
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"I am honestly curious if you will get away or not."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the delicate, ebon-curled woman with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"Sounds delicius."
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Oh yes, I bet you would like to be here too."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman sends you a telepathic message:
"-Relief flooding her thoughts- Krath, love.."
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Nice spot to see people wandering around without be seen."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"I love the sound of it."
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Hmm... yes. Indeed."
Smiling thinly, the short, scar-eyed templar asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Shall we?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the delicate, ebon-curled woman:
"Oh.. I think I am moving."
You dissolve the psychic link.
You stop resting, and stand up.
You start trying to listen.
The short, scar-eyed templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"I'll leave you to go...track down your prey."
You now follow the short, scar-eyed templar.
The short, scar-eyed templar pardons you of your crimes.
The short, scar-eyed templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Your weapons...describe them to me, and I'll see that you get them back."
You say to the short, scar-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Hmm.. A few throwing knives, dyed in black. One short spear. One crystalline longknife, made of salt worm tooth."
The delicate, ebon-curled woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Moving? There are few things I can see under that word."
Wiping his face, you say to the short, scar-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Oh.. Nice meeting you again, by the way, my Lord."
The short, scar-eyed templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"The feeling is very mutual. I do hope a minimally bloody resolution can be found."
The short, scar-eyed templar nods at you.
The short, scar-eyed templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"The guards will see you out. I'll fetch the knives."
The short, scar-eyed templar stops leading the pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man.
You say to the short, scar-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"There are a few more I guess.. But I am not worried about them."
The short, scar-eyed templar opens the door.
The short, scar-eyed templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Ahh, fine then. I'll just see you out."
The short, scar-eyed templar walks south.
A human Allanaki soldier walks south.
The half-giant soldier walks south.
The surly, half-giant jailer opens the cell door, and you are hauled out.
Allanaki Jail [NESW]
Large blocks of red stone make up the walls of this building, the same
type used to make the city walls most certainly, since they look so similar.
This center room of the building is totally devoid of furnishings, save a wide
bench along the east wall. Cells lie to the north and south, both of which
issue forth the smell of filth and rot.
A half-giant soldier of Tektolnes walks along here.
The short, scar-eyed templar is standing here.
A human soldier of Tektolnes walks along here.
A surly, half-giant member of the Allanaki militia is here, acting as jailer.
The surly, half-giant jailer closes and locks the cell door, and motions to a soldier.
A soldier grabs the pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man around the arm, and escorts him to the west.
A soldier takes you by the arm, and escorts you to the gate.
Templars' Way [NSW]
Templars' Way stretches north and south through the very heart of the
crowded city. The road is made of large, black-colored stones that are
covered with dust, dung, and other unsavory materials. It passes under the
Arena's morbid shadow, a gigantic structure standing to the east. Bustling
with activity, the Commoners' Quarter lies to the west. Crowds pass along
the street, hurrying on errands and avoiding the keen-eyed glances of the
templars and soldiers who use this way.
Directly south stands the gate to the Templars' quarter, its carved
stone form arching overhead. West Dragon's Path runs along a wall that
stretches to the west, enclosing the Templar's quarter and separating it
from the noise and filth of the Commoners' quarter, which lies to the
northwest.
A human soldier of Tektolnes stands here, guarding the Templar Quarter.
The tall, slight man is standing here.
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man blinks.
You are already standing.
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man scratches his head.
You slow down and start moving carefully.
Stinging sand swirls around you.
Templars' Way [NS]
Templars' Way stretches north and south through the very heart of the
crowded city. The road is made of large, black-colored stones that are
covered with dust, dung, and other unsavory materials. It passes under the
Arena's morbid shadow, a gigantic structure standing to the east. Bustling
with activity, the Commoners' Quarter lies to the west. Crowds pass along
the street, hurrying on errands and avoiding the keen-eyed glances of the
templars and soldiers who use this way.
A branded, heavily-scarred mul moves down the road, looking determined.
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman sends you a telepathic message:
"-Her thoughts filled with emotion- I -love- -you-. PLEASE keep.. alive."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Thus Serpent is released to hunt down his old friend, and thus get his best man to be released. There is little time, and little choice.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Submitter's note:
This log is the second part of the story of the fall of Templar Haadith
Oash of Allanak. In his time, Haadith Oash was a rather
short-tempered, or one may call,...
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