Original Submissions by HaiWolfe of type 'Logs'
-
Interrogation of a 'Rinth Rat
Added on Feb 14, 2010A half-breed 'Rinthi, newly inducted into the Guild, suddenly finds himself in over his head when picked out of a southside crowd for interrogation by a templar.
It is before dawn on Nekrete, the 214th day of the Ascending Sun,
In the Year of Lirathu's Slumber, year 11 of the 21st Age.
The Main Room of the Bard's Barrel [NSW]
A myriad of grinning skulls, each painted with bright colors laid
over the pallid bone, stare down from the broad wooden shelf that lines this
spacious room at eye level. Splashes of blue, green and red cover the clay
brick walls in an enthusiastic but inexpert abstract mural, some spatters of
the same paint dotted across the red tiled floor. The room is filled with
clamor: the clink and clatter of dishes and drinks, instruments being tuned,
scraps of song, and a general constant roar of conversation. A small wooden
stage sits along the northern wall, two ragged velvet curtains framing it,
looped back with blue-dyed ropes. A wide archway leads out onto the dusty
street, while a smaller one to the west provides a glimpse of a smaller,
quieter chamber.
A wall here is designated as a message board.
The trim, sorrel-haired man is sitting at a boxy wooden bar.
The one-eyed, white-haired half-elf is sitting at a boxy wooden bar.
The goateed, orange-eyed man is sitting at a wobbly baobab table.
The misshapen, lucent-eyed man is sitting at a wobbly baobab table.
The lithe, dark-haired man is sitting at a broad table of scarred agafari wood.
The small, dark-haired man sits at a table in the back, staring into his drink.
The bald, muscular woman slouches at a large table, drinking ale.
The huge, sun-bronzed man surveys the room casually from a table here.
The husky, weatherworn dwarf relaxes at a table here, clay mug in hand.
A tall, amber-eyed woman polishes glasses behind the boxy wooden bar.
A lean, spike-haired elf drums softly in the corner.
A lean, grey-eyed bard leans against the stage.
The trim, sorrel-haired man sits quietly at his stool, tugging on his beard with a
distracted expression.
Your new ldesc is:
The scrawny, half-breed teen with a badly swollen wrist leans here on a crutch.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar has arrived from the north.
The sallow, top-knotted half-giant has arrived from the north.
The one-eyed, white-haired half-elf stands to his feet quickly.
The scrawny, half-breed teen turns to see the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar with wide
eyes.
The one-eyed, white-haired half-elf bows deeply to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar,
his cloak dragging the ground.
The scrawny, half-breed teen bows before the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, barely
keeping his balance.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar passes through the northern entrance, flanked by the
imposing figure of the sallow, top-knotted half-giant.
The trim, sorrel-haired man rises to his feet, and bows gracefully to the oddly-bent,
yellow-skinned templar, his eyes lowered before retaking his barstool after a moment's
pause.
The one-eyed, white-haired half-elf sits down at a boxy wooden bar.
The misshapen, lucent-eyed man glances up at the sounding sound of scraping bar stools
before spotting the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar.
Ignoring the majority those bowing him, the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar's gazes falls
in harsh interrogation of a few faces.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar looks down at you.
The scrawny, half-breed teen shrinks back against a wall, keeping his gaze lowered.
Rising halfway out of his seat, the misshapen, lucent-eyed man bends respectfully at the
waist towards the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar before reseating himself.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar looks down at the lithe, dark-haired man.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned man sends you a telepathic message:
"Tell me of the Statue."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
Seeing the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar's attention upon him, the lithe, dark-haired man
quickly stands and bows before retaking his seat.
Passing through the parting crowds the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar's eyes lock onto
you, his yellow-spotted lips curling lightly into odd smile.
The scrawny, half-breed teen nearly falls to his knees, but catches himself and presses
himself against the wall.
The misshapen, lucent-eyed man looks up at you.
You think:
"Kade must've told him!"
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar curls his finger a few times in your direction,
beckoning for you to follow.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Come along...Ish."
Staring at the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar's feet, you say, in sirihish:
"I-I... "
You now follow the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar.
The trim, sorrel-haired man looks up at you.
The scrawny, half-breed teen reluctantly steps toward the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned
templar.
The lithe, dark-haired man sends you a telepathic message:
"Be respectful and don't piss off Rezaul."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the lithe, dark-haired man with the Way.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar glances once to the lithe, dark-haired man his eyes
lingering there for a few moments before making his way west.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar walks west.
You follow the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, and walk west.
An Antechamber of the Bard's Barrel [EU]
The sallow, top-knotted half-giant has arrived from the east.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar walks up.
You follow the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, and walk up.
A Wide, Spacious Room [ED]
The sallow, top-knotted half-giant has arrived from below.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the lithe, dark-haired man:
"He wants ta know about th' figurine!"
You dissolve the psychic link.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar walks east.
You follow the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, and walk east.
A Wide, Spacious Room [EW]
The sallow, top-knotted half-giant has arrived from the west.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar walks east.
You follow the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, and walk east.
A Wooden-Railed Balcony [W]
This wide balcony overlooks the street below, providing ample view of
the passersby, as well as a general vista of the sprawl of the Commoner's
Quarter. A railing of polished thuja wood surrounds it, carved with a
pattern of tumbling coins in bas-relief. Sounds of singing and raucous
revelry float up from somewhere below. An arched doorway to the west leads
back inside the building, covered with a curtain of bright red canvas. A
heavy stone bench is firmly affixed to the wall, while along the top of the
balcony, clay planters have been fastened, each one holding several small
plants spilling over with dusty green leaves and tiny, fragrant white
flowers.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar is standing here.
The sallow, top-knotted half-giant has arrived from the west.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar closes the curtain.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Well then....explain."
The scrawny, half-breed teen swallows hard.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar takes a few steps toward a heavy stone bench, and
slides onto it, watching you firmly.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar sits down on a heavy stone bench.
Shaking his head, his voice light, the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar asks you, in
southern-accented sirihish:
"You are aware of what I did to your friend Kade?"
The scrawny, half-breed teen shakes his head mutely.
With an idle shrug, the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar asks you, in southern-accented
sirihish:
"Seen him about of late?"
Licking dry lips, you say to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"I.. I nicked a figurine, a small one.. Kade helped. It was a test."
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"A test? Given by whom. "
Adding quickly, the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar asks you, in southern-accented
sirihish:
"Don't blame Kade for ratting on you...You'd have done the same if I had you fingers
and tongue removed, hmmm?"
The scrawny, half-breed teen twitches his head.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"So, a test...a figurine. Continue."
You say to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"A gang, westside... in the 'rinth. Called th' Third Eyes... they offer protection..."
You say, in sirihish:
"Fer a price."
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Ah? And how did you meet Kade?"
You think:
"(is terrified, but a small part of him is frantically hoping that this is another test
arranged between Vel and the templar)"
The lithe, dark-haired man sends you a telepathic message:
"Tell him what you will. The black figurine wouldn't be something for you to die over."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
You say to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"I-in th' Gaj, Lord Templar."
Out on the plaza, the lithe, dark-haired man has arrived from the south.
Out on the plaza, the lithe, dark-haired man walks north.
Shaking his head and gesturing to the sallow, top-knotted half-giant, the oddly-bent,
yellow-skinned templar asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Do you know how I found out about you?"
You say to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"Kade..."
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Yes of course. For every lie, Kade told me...Mgran pulled off one of his pinkies.
Perhaps you require the same coaxing?"
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"You work for Vel."
You exclaim to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"N-no, I ain't lyin'! I know what 'appens ta rats git caught an' don't tell th' truth!"
Glancing to the sallow, top-knotted half-giant, the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar asks
you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"How were you injured?"
You say to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"I was jumped inna alley, eastside."
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"By whom?"
You think:
"I told Kade! I told Kade Vel's name!"
Shaking his head jerkily, you say to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"I dun' know... some hooded skinnies.."
You think:
"Ish ya dumbshit yer dead, dead!"
Shaking his head lightly, the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to you, in southern-
accented sirihish:
"You know something you're not telling me half-breed."
Without much interest, the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to the sallow, top-
knotted half-giant, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Tear off his arms or something..."
The scrawny, half-breed teen stands rooted to the spot, stone-still in fear.
The sallow, top-knotted half-giant glances to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar with
surprise for a moment and then with a shrug lumbers toward you.
The scrawny, half-breed teen works his lips silently as he stares at the floor.
The sallow, top-knotted half-giant reaches out at you with a large meaty hand.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar gives the sallow, top-knotted half-giant an order.
The sallow, top-knotted half-giant subdues you, despite your attempts to struggle away.
Kicking and flailing, you exclaim, in sirihish:
"Eyaaargh!"
Frantically, you exclaim to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"I'll tell ya.. I! Whaddya wanna know!"
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Who was the figurine stolen from and why."
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Who ordered it."
The red moon, Jihae, rises over the streets of Allanak.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar sighs shaking his head with annoyance.
You exclaim to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"D-dice! Fella named Dice!"
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Dice? Tell me about Dice."
With a sigh, the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to the sallow, top-knotted half-
giant, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Should he utter a word about not knowing something, just pull it off and toss it over
the ledge."
The sallow, top-knotted half-giant nods once affirmatively to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned
templar, your arm head tightly in his closed fist.
The words spilling from his mouth, you say to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in
sirihish:
"He's got th' tattoos, he an' Siltwind, they th' leaders of th' gang."
You think:
"I shoulda used th' mul! Too late too late!"
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Gang?"
You say to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"They, they.. call'emselves th' Third Eyes cause they put a tattoo of a eye on their
forehead. Yeh, gang. Every'un in the 'rinth's talkin' bout'em, they're real strong."
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Oh? And the black fist?"
You say to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"Tha's another gang, I thought Kade knew some'un who was innit."
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Vel. Where does he fit. I know you're lying about this Dice fellow..."
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to the sallow, top-knotted half-giant, in
southern-accented sirihish:
"Twist...."
You exclaim to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"I can 'xplain!"
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"I know. Thats why we're here."
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar stands forcefully, his peaceful, placid demeanor
bursting into a fiery anger.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar pushes off of a heavy stone bench and rises to his
feet.
In a smooth motion, the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar slides a topaz-pommeled ivory
dagger out of a leather and chitin strap-sheath.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar brandishes a topaz-pommeled ivory dagger.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar marches toward where the sallow, top-knotted half-
giant holds you.
You exclaim to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"I ain't lyin'! I seen Vel aroun' in the 'rinth a few times, he always kickin' me
round. 'alf-breed do this, clean that up, ya worthless!"
The scrawny, half-breed teen grows panicked as he squirms in the sallow, top-knotted half-
giant's grip.
His voice a harsh rasp, his eyes fills with hatred, placing the tip of his topaz-pommeled
ivory dagger under your left eye, the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar whispers to you in
sirihish:
"Listen to me you filthy lying half-breed....Do you think I want to be in your presence
any longer? Tell me *everything*."
You exclaim to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"So I needed Kade ta help me do th' job... th' nickin'! An' Kade was askin' all these
questions 'fore he would do it! But Dice tol' me ta not spill his name, so I tol' Kade Vel's
name instead!"
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar straightens for a moment as if shocked, he seems to
lose his concentration and takes a step away from the sallow, top-knotted half-giant.
A ragged sob tears itself from the scrawny, half-breed teen's throat as he slumps forward.
Hunched for a moment, the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar's eyes widen as he glances
downward at his hands in awe.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar straightens, still not looking at you or the sallow,
top-knotted half-giant, he turns his eyes raging with some mad pleasure.
As he approaches you again, his eyes awash with determination and he snatches your face, the
oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to you in southern-accented sirihish:
"I am His Will."
The scrawny, half-breed boy twitches involuntarily.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar asks you in southern-accented sirihish:
"What does Dice look like?"
Screwing his eyes shut, you say to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar in sirihish:
"He's a-a... a big fella, tall, strong."
Voice calm and even as the tip of his topaz-pommeled ivory dagger is placed again under
your eye, the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to you in southern-accented sirihish:
"More..."
You say to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar in sirihish:
"Got dice tattooed on'is hands, an' the eye on'is forehead."
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to you in southern-accented sirihish:
"What is it worth to you? For me to not tell Vel, or your arrangement with Dice?"
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to you in southern-accented sirihish:
"What have you to trade besides this eye?"
You exclaim to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"I-I.. they'll kill me!"
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Of course they will."
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"I'm the only one who can keep you alive now....treat me well...."
You say to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"I got less'an fifty sid.. jus' what I'm wearin'."
Presses the top of his topaz-pommeled ivory dagger just a touch into the flesh under your
eye, the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Do you think I require funding?"
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"What can you offer me aside from this eye?"
Sweat rolling down his face, you exclaim to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in
sirihish:
"Whaddya want!"
A final glimmer of light marks the white moon Lirathu's slow descent.
Simply, the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Information. "
You exclaim to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"I ken get ya information!"
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar twists the tip of his topaz-pommeled ivory dagger
lightly digging a small nich in your skin.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"No....now."
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar lifts his chin to the sallow, top-knotted half-giant.
The sallow, top-knotted half-giant begins pulling forcefully at your arm.
Stifling a scream, you exclaim to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"Eyaa--- ask me a question!"
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Armless, eyeless....a pitiful way to live."
Laughing, the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Was that an order? Simply talk...."
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Just talk, talk, talk."
His face soaked with sweat and tears, you say to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in
sirihish:
"Dice an' Siltwind, they been 'round the 'rinth a few months now, they started off
small..."
Looking bored the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar removes his topaz-pommeled ivory dagger
slipping it back into his burned leather and chitin strap-sheath.
You say to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"But they gitted a reputation th' way they din't take no shat from skinnies."
You say to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"Whole eastside hates'em but they don't care 'cause they got th' west on their side."
Lifting his chin, the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to the sallow, top-knotted
half-giant, in southern-accented sirihish:
"This is pointless....Let him go. I'm bored of Rinth politics,"
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar gives the sallow, top-knotted half-giant an order.
The sallow, top-knotted half-giant releases you, and you immediately move away.
The scrawny, half-breed teen falls to the ground in a heap.
With a sigh gesturing to you idly, the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to you, in
southern-accented sirihish:
"Your arm and eye are now owned by me. You've three months to bring me two pieces of
information that will purchase them back. I'll see you soon."
The scrawny, half-breed teen quickly scrambles up using your worn wooden crutch and nearly
falls again as he bows deeply to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, then shuffles
toward the curtain.
You say to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"Yes Lord Templar, I do everythin' ya say, thank ya Lord Templar."
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar wets his yellow spotted lips turning to look out over
the balcony.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Off with you..."
The scrawny, half-breed teen backs through the curtain, bent at the waist.It is before dawn on Nekrete, the 214th day of the Ascending Sun,
In the Year of Lirathu's Slumber, year 11 of the 21st Age.
The Main Room of the Bard's Barrel [NSW]
A myriad of grinning skulls, each painted with bright colors laid
over the pallid bone, stare down from the broad wooden shelf that...
Continue Reading...Mama Red's Lesson
Added on Apr 5, 2007A young and foolhardy adventurer chances a ride through the Red Desert with another traveler and gets dealt a harsh lesson. Ambushed by gith, he loses his kank and flees on foot, stumbling up and rolling down the sand dunes. He makes it to the North Road, battered and exhausted, but soon finds that he is not alone...
============================================================
A young and foolhardy adventurer chances a ride through the Red Desert with another traveler and gets dealt a harsh lesson. Ambushed by gith, he loses his kank and flees on foot, stumbling up and rolling down the sand dunes. He makes it to the North Road, battered and exhausted, but soon finds that he is not alone...
============================================================
North Road [NESW]
The stark white of the wide stone road lies across these sands like the
spine of a gargantuan carcass. Slightly curving and in places partially
buried in sand, the pale backbone twists along the upper cliff of the Shield
Wall.
The road runs east and west from here.
West of here is Bend in the North Road.
[Very far]
Nothing.
[Far]
Nothing.
[Near]
Nothing.
North of here are Sandy Wastes.
[Far]
Nothing.
[Near]
Nothing.
South of here is Atop the Shield Wall.
[Very far]
Nothing.
[Far]
Nothing.
[Near]
Nothing.
98,6,104,walking,standing>
You sit down and rest your tired bones.
The lean, sandy-red gith pierces your neck, doing frightening damage.
The lean, sandy-red gith lightly pierces your body.
54,6,70,walking,fighting: the lean, sandy-red gith>
Bend in the North Road [NESW]
The stark white of the wide stone road lies across these sands like the
spine of a gargantuan carcass. Slightly curving and in places partially
buried in sand, the pale backbone twists along the upper cliff of the Shield
Wall.
The road bends to the north and east from this point.
You flee head over heels.
54,1,71,running,standing>You are too exhausted.
You deftly parry the lean, sandy-red gith's attack.
The lean, sandy-red gith pierces your body.
This gith is characteristically lean for his race, perhaps a little more so
than average. Wiry strength is apparent in his long arms and legs, however,
as well as his clawed hands. He is hunched over, appearing much shorter
than he would be if his back were straight, and his sandy-red skin bears
the markings of both battle and the elements. Black eyes gleam dully from
their place in his malevolent-looking face.
The lean, sandy-red gith is in excellent condition.
The lean, sandy-red gith is using:
<worn on head> an used veiled, wide-brimmed surmac
<primary hand> a dusty bone-tipped spear
<secondary hand> a dusty obsidian shortsword
<worn around body> a dusty hooded, sandy-brown dustcloak
<worn on legs> an used set of cuirbouilli leg guards
46,1,62,running,fighting: the lean, sandy-red gith>
The lean, sandy-red gith lightly pierces your body.
You deftly parry the lean, sandy-red gith's attack.
The lean, sandy-red gith circles, lashing out with his dusty bone-tipped spear.
The lean, sandy-red gith pierces your body.
You deftly parry the lean, sandy-red gith's attack.
The lean, sandy-red gith parries your attack.
The lean, sandy-red gith swiftly dodges your stab.
34,1,50,running,fighting: the lean, sandy-red gith>
The lean, sandy-red gith says, in an unfamiliar tongue:
"sqesiw qeubnuem, ueow dzuibj uakurie, feq iuo'kl wi tewa."
You exclaim, in sirihish:
"Wait, wait!"
The lean, sandy-red gith pierces your body.
The lean, sandy-red gith pierces you very hard on your neck.
The lean, sandy-red gith swiftly dodges your slash.
The lean, sandy-red gith swiftly dodges your stab.
The figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak backs off, blades crossed in front of himself.
12,1,37,running,fighting: the lean, sandy-red gith>
The lean, sandy-red gith solidly pierces your body.
You deftly parry the lean, sandy-red gith's attack.
3,1,28,running,fighting: the lean, sandy-red gith>
The lean, sandy-red gith pierces you very hard on your body.
-9,1,14,running,mortally wounded>
Someone rolls you over after delivering a vicious kick to your midsection.
The figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak groans in pain.
Your new ldesc is:
The figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak lies on the ground, bleeding from multiple holes in his body.
Placing a knee in your back, someone strips away some things.
The lean, sun-browned man's tongue lolls out as his head falls limply to a side.
Someone yanks something from your neck.
Someone rolls you over.
The lean, sun-browned man twitches feebly.
You feel tremendous amounts of pain shooting from your spear wounds.
You feel yourself slipping into feverish unconsciousness.
============================================================
Stripped of his valuables and left for dead beneath the unforgiving sun, the blood from his injuries begins to clot and keeps him from bleeding to death. Lucky bastard. He begins to hallucinate.
============================================================
-4,1,14,running,mortally wounded>
You feel dizzied by a phantasmagoria of images... a monstrous silt horror rising out of the sea, tentacles lashing... sandy skies and red scrub... a laughing prostitute... Kruth cards flying away on the wind...
You feel a numb sensation, like the down after way, way, way too much spice.
You feel as though you are sinking in silt, slowly sinking lower and lower.
You feel curious at the sight of a jozhal swimming by, winking as it does the backstroke.
0,1,14,running,stunned>
You feel a sudden urge to fight your way back up to the surface and begin flailing madly.
You feel the silt pulling down on you, but keep clawing your way upwards.
You feel a rush of determination that fuels your fight.
1,1,19,running,resting>
You feel a massive suction force as you break the surface, sputtering with a mouthful of sand.
Eyes closed, the lean, sun-browned man sputters and gasps.
The lean, sun-browned man's eyes snap open as he pushes himself up on his elbows, wiping sand and dirt from his tongue with a hand.
Bend in the North Road [NESW]
The stark white of the wide stone road lies across these sands like the
spine of a gargantuan carcass. Slightly curving and in places partially
buried in sand, the pale backbone twists along the upper cliff of the Shield
Wall.
The road bends to the north and east from this point.
The lean, sun-browned man goggles a bit at his surroundings.
To himself, raspily, you ask, in sirihish:
"What in Krath...?"
The crimson sun sinks into the west, as the desert darkens.
The lean, sun-browned man seems to regain his focus somewhat as he looks at the setting sun.
You think:
"I feel like shit... got to get back to Luir's.. somehow."
The lean, sun-browned man groans as he rolls over and tries to pick himself up.
The lean, sun-browned man pushes himself to his knees and takes a breather.
The lean, sun-browned man squints at the horizon.
In a strained voice as he braces himself up off the ground, you exclaim, in sirihish:
"Hup!"
You stand up.
============================================================
Clinging stubbornly to life, he staggers painfully down the darkening road as dusk settles in. With the exception of a wrong turn that nearly sends him toppling over the edge of the Shield Wall, he reaches the sanctuary of Luir's Outpost with no further incident.
============================================================
Sparse sands blow across your path.
The South Gate of Luir's Outpost [SW]
The walls of this client village have felt the trickle of much blood
over the years, and great care is evident in the fortifications visible on
all sides. The pair of gate towers, one rebuilt and one new, stand strong,
flanking the reinforced arch leading out of the bailey. Each is ominously
crowned with four grasping horns of jet-black obsidian and sport an archer's
window three-quarter's up on each face. Large torches flank the gates.
Another stout, sturdy watchtower rises over the battlements of the inner
barrier to the northwest. Running the entire length of this inner wall,
carved spikes of bone have been mounted. Thin protected slits in the top of
the walls provide archers an easy target at anyone traveling along this
roadway and frequent glimpses of movement indicate the defenses are always
well manned.
Westward, through the shanty-town of the outer bailey, a road passes
between these two sets of imposing walls.
The ghoulishly scarred half-giant looms before the gate here.
A unit of dun-clad Kuraci regulars stands here in strict formation.
A unit of Kurac mercenaries stands here, ready for battle.
The tall pudgy man looks around with a challenging expression.
The lean, sun-browned man feebly tips his hat toward the tall pudgy man before falling over.
You sit down and rest your tired bones.
You think:
"Krath, I'm in bad shape.. I need to get help."
The lean, sun-browned man brushes his fingers over a pair of punctures in his neck, now clotted over with dried blood.
You are carrying:
a thin, brown leather wrap
You bow your head, placing the wrap about your neck.
Darkness
Total darkness surrounds you, preventing you from seeing anything
at all. You have trouble telling where you put your feet when you walk.
It is late at night on Huegel, the 74th day of the Ascending Sun,
In the Year of Jihae's Peace, year 23 of the 21st Age.
You go to sleep.
The lean, sun-browned man drifts in and out of fitful sleep, curled on his side near the wall.
============================================================
Some time passes before he is discovered.
============================================================
Someone stoops, slinging a blade over her lanky shoulders.
You wake up as you feel your arms being twisted behind your back.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf subdues you, despite your attempts to struggle away.
The lean, sun-browned man yelps as he's jerked out of his sleep, struggling feebly.
With effort, the slight, desert-hued half-elf heaves you up against one of her shoulders.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Easy, boyo."
With you braced casually, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says to the tall pudgy man, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"He's known to me, I'll get him outta the way."
Mumbling incoherently, you say, in sirihish:
"Oh.. s'you."
Aside, to you, the slight, desert-hued half-elf asks, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Yea, Sergeant Sha to save the doy. Again. Can ya' walk any?"
Regaining his focus, you say, in sirihish:
"More or less.."
One lanky arm supporting you, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Try, I'll help ya'. Let's go."
The slight, desert-hued half-elf begins shuffling off through the bailey.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf walks west, dragging you behind her.
The area is enveloped in darkness.
A Hard-Packed Roadway Between the Walls [EW]
Hastily leveled, the gritty hardpan of the Red Desert has been packed
down into a broad, flat swath between two parallel sets of stout, unadorned
stone walls. The massive walls border both sides of this wide roadway,
rising easily the height of two half-giants. Built of large chunks of onyx,
obsidian, and other less identifiable black stone, they are mortared with a
deep grey mixture that is only noticeable on close inspection.
Along the top of the inner wall, carved spikes of bone have been mounted,
proving a challenge to all but the most skilled climber. Thin slits in the
top of the walls themselves provide archers an easy target at anyone
traveling along this roadway and dun-cloaked soldiers can infrequently be
glimpsed on patrol atop the high ramparts of the inner walls.
Sheltered from the worst of the desert's excesses, the occasional wagon,
caravan, or trading party moves under the open sky along the well-worn track
towards the Outpost's gates.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf walks west, dragging you behind her.
The area is enveloped in darkness.
A Hard-Packed Roadway Between the Walls [EW]
Hastily leveled, the gritty hardpan of the Red Desert has been packed
down into a broad, flat swath between two parallel sets of stout, unadorned
stone walls. The massive walls border both sides of this wide roadway,
rising easily the height of two half-giants. Built of large chunks of onyx,
obsidian, and other less identifiable black stone, they are mortared with a
deep grey mixture that is only noticeable on close inspection.
Along the top of the inner wall, carved spikes of bone have been mounted,
proving a challenge to all but the most skilled climber. Thin slits in the
top of the walls themselves provide archers an easy target at anyone
traveling along this roadway and dun-cloaked soldiers can infrequently be
glimpsed on patrol atop the high ramparts of the inner walls.
Sheltered from the worst of the desert's excesses, the occasional wagon,
caravan, or trading party moves under the open sky along the well-worn track
towards the Outpost's gates.
A pavilion of yellowed, thread-bare sandcloth leans against the outpost wall here.
The red light of Jihae rises over the outpost's southern walls.
Under the Watch Tower [NE]
Hastily leveled, the gritty hardpan of the Red Desert has been packed
down into a broad, flat swath between two parallel sets of stout, unadorned
stone walls. The massive walls border both sides of this wide roadway,
rising easily the height of two half-giants. Built of large chunks of onyx,
obsidian, and other less identifiable black stone, they are mortared with a
deep grey mixture that is only noticeable on close inspection.
At the corner of the roadway, a massive watchtower still lies under
construction, the wooden frame already in place as work continues.
Sheltered from the worst of the desert's excesses, the occasional wagon,
caravan, or trading party moves under the open sky along the well-worn track
towards the Outpost's gates.
The lean, sun-browned man staggers along with the slight, desert-hued half-elf's support, dried blood streaked from beneath your thin, brown leather wrap and joining similar streams along your bloodied white sandcloth shirt.
============================================================
The Kuraci sergeant brings him through the bailey, past the inner gates, and into the Outpost proper.
============================================================
The slight, desert-hued half-elf walks east, dragging you behind her.
Steel Road [NESW]
This dirt hardpack road runs east and west between the outer yard and
Sun's Road. The odd sign of wagon track suggests that this road is put to
more use than others.
The road continues to the east and west, between buildings that lie to
the north and Merchant Field to the south. To the north, a thick white
agafari door leads away from the road.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf huffs for breath as she supports most of your weight with her scrawny might.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf walks east, dragging you behind her.
Steel Road [NESW]
This dirt hardpack road runs east and west between the outer yard and
Sun's Road. The odd sign of wagon track suggests that this road was once
put to more use than others.
Directly north of here is a small open yard, overhung by the upper floor
of the inn. Southward lies Merchant Field.
The lean, haggard man ambles slowly through the yard here.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf walks east, dragging you behind her.
Steel Road [NESW]
This dirt hardpack road runs east and west between the outer yard and
Sun's Road. The odd sign of wagon track suggests that this road was once
put to more use than others.
North of here lies the tallest structure within the outpost, apparently
an inn constructed for the benefit of whatever travelers might have come
through. Blackened stone shows sign of recent repair though no gaps or
seams are visible in the massive walls. This imposing building, with spikes
at all four corners and obsidian black walls, holds an air of both
durability and agelessness. Southward lies the entrance to Merchant Field.
Breathlessly, the slight, desert-hued half-elf shouts, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Regular Mynkas!"
With you supported with a skinny arm, the slight, desert-hued half-elf peers through the door.
The wind changes direction.
The lean, sun-browned man sways on his feet, leaning against a faint shape.
A faint shape lights an unlit simple, leather-wrapped bone torch.
Muttering irritably, a faint shape says, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Fuck this shit.. c'mon, we're movin'."
Barely visible in the gloom, a faint shape says to a faint shape, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Get that gate open."
A faint shape shouts, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Yer Sergeant!"
A faint shape shouts, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Forget about it!"
A faint shape unlocks the gates with a bent obsidian key.
A faint shape opens the gates.
A faint shape steps aside, allowing a faint shape to pass.
A faint shape closes the gates from the other side.
A faint shape mutters and grumbles under her breath in bendune, squinting through the sandy darkness as she half supports, half drags you along.
Luir's Outpost Infirmary [E]
This building consists of a single large, open room that is permeated
by a melange of smells ranging from the fragrance of dried herbs to the
putrid stench of festering wounds and the bitter tang of medicinal
tinctures. The worn stone floor here is relatively free of dust and red
sand, a feat only accomplished by frequent sweeping.
In the center of the room are three long wooden tables, all of which bear
the dark, splotchy stains of old blood and pungent poultices. Along the
back wall opposite the entrance is a row of leather cots, sometimes occupied
by the ailing or injured. Two cabinets stand beside a few bins arrayed
along the north wall. Shuttered windows in the east wall can be opened when
the wind is down, and bone lanterns hang from the thick wooden crossbeams
overhead.
A few long, wooden worktables are here.
Some carved shelves of fitted agafari hardwood stand here.
The greasy-looking, spidery man stands here, tending to the wounded.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf heaves you through the door and through the infirmary, to a long, wooden worktable.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf releases you, and you immediately move away.
The lean, sun-browned man pedals his bare feet on the ground, trying ineffectively to keep his balance.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf crouches.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf stops using a shining leather-strapped green glow-crystal.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf extinguishes a shining leather-strapped green glow-crystal.
The lean, sun-browned man falls over onto a long, wooden worktable with a thump.
You rest on a long, wooden worktable.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf puts a leather-strapped green glow-crystal inside a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak.
Rubbing her tattooed hands together to knock grit from them, the slight, desert-hued half-elf moves for a cabinet.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf gets a white cloth bandage from a hardwood cabinet.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf gets a white cloth bandage from a hardwood cabinet.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf gets a white cloth bandage from a hardwood cabinet.
Grabbing a handful of rolled bandages, the slight, desert-hued half-elf pokes through a second cabinet nearby.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf gets a crumbling red tablet from a hardwood cabinet.
You look at the slight, desert-hued half-elf silently through eyes half-lidded in pain.
This small half-elven woman's lean, tautly muscled body is ravaged by the
scars of battle, wind and sand, her skin a weathered cunyati hue. In
lighter contrast, her hair is a sandy brown, the longest strands wisping
just past her chin. She has slanted, narrow eyes, their irises shaded a
murky green about vertically slitted pupils, and her ears are mismatched;
the left is sharply pointed, but the right is smaller, almost round. A
faded scar tugs from the left corner of her mouth and across her cheek,
giving her thin lips a perpetual smirk. Another noticeable scar cuts a pale
line above her right eyebrow, deep and faintly curved, as if from a blade.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf is in excellent condition.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf is using:
<face> a long, jagged-looking scar
<worn in left ear> a red feather earring
<worn in right ear> a hooked fang
<neck> a few massive, slash-marked scars
<worn about throat> an agate and raptor-bone necklace
<slung across back> a serrated bone warsword
<worn on right shoulder> a shoulder patch with a dun colored eclipsed moon
<left shoulder> a tattoo of a raptor with a spice tube
<worn on arms> a pair of desert-camouflaged, sandcloth sleeves
<worn around wrist> a small black leather armsheath
<left wrist> a sprawling tattoo of crimson blossoms
<hands> a simple series of black tattoos
<worn on left finger> a feathered maar ring
<worn around body> a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak
<worn on legs> a pair of desert-camouflaged, sandcloth leggings
<worn on right ankle> a ragged hempcloth pouch
<worn on feet> a pair of knee-high grey leather boots
Muttering irritably to herself, searching a hardwood cabinet's shelves, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"No fuckin' vials left.."
The slight, desert-hued half-elf turns to a wooden storage bin, sorting.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf gets a sap-filled, grey-green leaf from a wooden storage bin.
Moving to a long, wooden worktable and setting an array of medicinal supplies down, the slight, desert-hued half-elf asks you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Fuck happened to you?"
The slight, desert-hued half-elf stands at a long, wooden worktable.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf looks down at you with a squint.
The lean, sun-browned man grimaces as fresh blood lazily seeps from a re-opened puncture wound in his side.
Grunting the word out, you say, in sirihish:
"Gith."
Tugging a blade out and cutting away your shirt, the slight, desert-hued half-elf asks you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Sorry, this shirt's gotta go. I'm sure it ain't the kind of situation you wanted to lose it in. How many?"
Looking at the ceiling as he lies flat on his back, you say, in sirihish:
"Whole bunch, was one that cornered me."
The lean, sun-browned man's shirt falls apart in slices, revealing multiple punctures strewn across his torso.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf sets a knife aside and your torn shirt, unrolling a bandage.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf holds a white cloth bandage.
At your seat, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says in tribal-accented sirihish, probing your wounds, then swiftly applying a pressure-bandage to one of the worst bleeders:
"Straight southways?"
At your seat, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says in tribal-accented sirihish, warningly:
"Hold still.."
Your head clears a little.
36,111,104,walking,resting>
The lean, sun-browned man grunts his acknowledgement.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf holds the pack in place until the bleeding slows, and binds it securely.
In a smooth motion, the slight, desert-hued half-elf slides a translucent, crystalline longknife out of a small black leather armsheath.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf brandishes a translucent, crystalline longknife.
His voice weak, you say, in sirihish:
"Aye, south."
At your seat, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says in tribal-accented sirihish, tsking softly as she picks up a thick green leaf:
"Haven't ya' heard the regulars warnin' about taking the south trails?"
The slight, desert-hued half-elf lays out some cloth and begins to work it.
Sounding uncertain, you ask, in sirihish:
"I should be dead really... you sure I'm not?"
Unrolling a bandage, the slight, desert-hued half-elf works to coat it with thick sap.
At your seat, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says in tribal-accented sirihish, her eyes focused on her work:
"Nah, you ain't dead. I dump dead people out by the cairns to rot."
At your seat, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says in tribal-accented sirihish, admitting:
"Pretty close to it, though. Jus' hold still."
The slight, desert-hued half-elf carefully soaks the bandage with the oozing sap.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf sheathes a translucent, crystalline longknife into a small black leather armsheath.
Voice growing distant as he closes his eyes, you say, in sirihish:
"Sure felt dead for a while back there.. saw some crazy things."
At your seat, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says in tribal-accented sirihish, seeming briefly distracted, irritation crossing her face before she focuses on you:
"Yea'? Keep talking, it'll keep you awake."
The slight, desert-hued half-elf holds a salve-covered bandage.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf applies the cool sap-soaked bandage to another shallower, bruising wound, gently working to tie it in place.
Your head clears a little.
66,111,104,walking,resting>
The slight, desert-hued half-elf inspects your other wounds, checking your from head to toe.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf swipes a last bandage up, unrolling it.
Mumbling through parched lips, you say, in sirihish:
"Jozhal swimmin' in the Silt Sea.. just swimming along.. not a care, just swimming.."
The slight, desert-hued half-elf holds a white cloth bandage.
At your seat, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says in tribal-accented sirihish, chuckling shortly and moving down to wrap another gash:
"Shit, sounds kind'a fun."
At your seat, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says in tribal-accented sirihish, picking up a tablet and holding it out to you:
"This'll protect against bad blood.. you know, the kind that makes wounds sick."
The slight, desert-hued half-elf gives you a crumbling red tablet.
The lean, sun-browned man twitches an arm up and pulls your thin, brown leather wrap loose, revealing two more clotted wounds on the side of his neck.
You stop using a thin, brown leather wrap.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf frowns, scooting down to wrap more cloth about your neck.
Grimacing, you say, in sirihish:
"Bastard got me bloody good."
At your seat, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says in tribal-accented sirihish, wiping some of your blood from her hands:
"I'd say. 'Bout the closest to death I've seen in a couple months."
At your seat, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says in tribal-accented sirihish, after a last inspection of you, nodding:
"You'll heal, though. Head clearin'?"
The lean, sun-browned man reopens his eyes and looks up at the slight, desert-hued half-elf.
You say, in sirihish:
"Yeah, a lot actually."
Casually, cleaning up around a long, wooden worktable, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Ya' owe me one, then."
The slight, desert-hued half-elf pushes away from a long, wooden worktable.
Pushing himself up onto his elbows, you say to the slight, desert-hued half-elf, in sirihish:
"Sure do."
Crossing to the cabinets and straightening them, the slight, desert-hued half-elf asks, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"What possessed you to crawl southways into the Red?"
The slight, desert-hued half-elf closes a hardwood cabinet.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf closes a hardwood cabinet.
The black-striped dusky male dwarf has arrived from the east, trudging in as sand falls nearly in sheets from his cloak.
Frowning a bit as recollection creeps into his eyes, you say to the slight, desert-hued half-elf, in sirihish:
"There was another fellow, come to think of it."
After swinging a hardwood cabinet's doors shut, the slight, desert-hued half-elf heads back for the table.
The slight, desert-hued half-elf asks you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Well, as fucked up as you are, I'm assuming he didn't make it?"
The black-striped dusky male dwarf stands quietly near the door, sand and dust making small piles at his feet.
Dropping down on the edge, the slight, desert-hued half-elf sits on a long, wooden worktable.
You say to the slight, desert-hued half-elf, in sirihish:
"Hard to say, he ran off in another direction."
At your seat, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says in tribal-accented sirihish, to you:
"Where abouts in the Red was this?"
Looking up and calling out, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says to the black-striped dusky male dwarf, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"We're patrollin', Merc, just not yet."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, looking sidelong at the slight, desert-hued half-elf:
"Though like y'say, doesn't count unless you see the body, aye?"
The black-striped dusky male dwarf thumps his cuirass over his heart with a fist at the slight, desert-hued half-elf.
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Near a couple of big old dunes, one shaped like a star."
At your seat, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says in tribal-accented sirihish, nodding gently:
"That's right.. and there's a lotta star dunes out there. Pass any big rock outcroppings?"
Cutting a look toward the doorway, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says to the black-striped dusky male dwarf, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Tell Ak to get himself ready for a body sweep."
The black-striped dusky male dwarf tilts his head in a friendly greeting at the greasy-looking, spidery man as he passes nearby.
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Can't remember much.. that was my first time out there. He agreed to ride south together, but I didn't think he'd cut through the sands."
The black-striped dusky male dwarf sniffs hard through his nose, and begins to tighten the straps on his cuirass.
At your seat, you say in sirihish, frowning a bit:
"Half-breed, a big one.. name of Turvit? Turvice?"
At your seat, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says in tribal-accented sirihish, shaking her head once:
"Never met him."
At your seat, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says in tribal-accented sirihish, to you, jabbing a finger:
"Never roam the sands without doin' yer research."
At your seat, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Mamma Red ain't to be fucked with."
At your seat, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says in tribal-accented sirihish, to you:
"As you now know."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, holding up his hands, palms outward:
"Aye, aye.. lesson learnt, hard way."
The black-striped dusky male dwarf adjusts the belt on his waist, undoing the buckle and placing it back in what seems to be the same place.
Dropping to his bare feet gingerly, you stand at a long, wooden worktable.
At your seat, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says in tribal-accented sirihish, casually pushing herself up and off the table's edge:
"You'd learn all about her if you was in the Fist."
In a smooth motion, the black-striped dusky male dwarf slides a bone-handled obsidian longknife out of a leather knife belt.
The black-striped dusky male dwarf brandishes a bone-handled obsidian longknife.
Nodding toward the doorway, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"I'll see you out."
============================================================
Eventually making a full recovery, our friend goes on to join the Fist, House Kurac's renowned mercenary outfit. There were many more adventures and near misses to be had over the years, but his luck didn't last forever - it finally ran out one day in the midst of a skirmish on the sands between the Fist and a band of gith raiders. What Mama Red gives, she can take back as well. Such is life and death on Zalanthas.
========================================================================================================================
A young and foolhardy adventurer chances a ride through the Red Desert with another traveler and gets dealt a harsh lesson. Ambushed by gith, he loses his kank and flees on foot, stumbling up and rolling down the sand dunes. He makes...
Continue Reading...
