Original Submissions by Jakub of type 'Logs'
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Village Kid
Added on Jun 15, 2010A red-robed Allanaki templar of the War Ministry encounters a piece of his own past.
Meleth's Circle [NESW]
The rugged, one-eyed templar is standing here.
The burly, long-haired bouncer stands here, guarding the inn's entrance.
An aged human beggar sits cross-legged against the wall of the inn here.
Hurrying out of the tavern, the blue-eyed, rawboned lad stops dead.
Eyes wide, you look at the rugged, one-eyed templar.
This man's hard-lined, weather-worn face is drawn and taut, with stress
wrinkles beginning to show around his eyes and at the corners of his lips.
Chin-length, sienna-shaded hair frames the austere visage, appearing
relatively clean and free of tangles. A thin stubble coats his square jaw
and the flat planes of his cheeks, and his skin looks rough and tanned
bronze by the harsh sun. His right eye shines a keen, clean blue, but the
left is covered by damaged, scarred flesh, clearly unusable. His corded
neck is attached to a set of broad shoulders which top out a thick, defined
chest, and muscular arms end in strong, calloused hands. An impressive
height somewhat disguises his toned musculature, lending him a sturdy look
overall without being especially bulky.
The rugged, one-eyed templar is in excellent condition.
The rugged, one-eyed templar is using:
<worn on head> a wide-brimmed black hat
<worn on face> an ivory eyepatch inlaid with a jade cross
<worn in left ear> a diamond earring stud
<worn around neck> an obsidian-carved, silver-etched gorget
<worn about throat> a medallion of Tektolnes
<slung across back> a narrow, etched bronze longsword
<worn across back> an oversized black backpack
<worn on left shoulder> a red silk sash
<worn on arms> a pair of black, bone scalemail arm-guards
<worn around wrist> a glossy, jet-colored shell bracer
<worn around wrist> a glossy, jet-colored shell bracer
<worn on hands> a pair of spike-knuckled, black leather gloves
<worn on forearms> a leather and chitin strap-sheath
<worn around body> a red, hooded templar's robe
<worn on legs> a set of glossy, jet-colored shell greaves
<worn on right ankle> a polished, jade-capped gith claw
<worn on feet> a pair of high, polished black leather boots
Feeling terrified, you think:
"It's-- a Red Robe. Mightn't be Him."
An aged human beggar stirs a clump of dirt on the street with his finger.
An aged human beggar mutters something about elves.
The sun rises over the spires of Allanak's east wall.
A final glimmer of red light marks the red moon Jihae's slow descent.
Standing by the burly, long-haired bouncer, the blue-eyed, rawboned lad stares at the rugged, one-eyed templar, transfixed.
Groaning and holding his stomach, an aged human beggar exclaims, in sirihish:
"Alms, food for the poor!"
Shaking his head distantly, the rugged, one-eyed templar says, in sirihish:
"Ugh."
An aged human beggar picks a flea out of his raggedy cloak.
Buzzing, a kank-fly circles in the dusty air, passing low over the blue-eyed, rawboned lad before disappearing down the street.
As his eye refocuses from staring off at nothing, the rugged, one-eyed templar looks at you.
His form stiffening at the rugged, one-eyed templar's gaze, the blue-eyed, rawboned lad drops quickly to one knee, bowing.
After a few moments, the rugged, one-eyed templar asks you, in sirihish:
"That Salarr's new getup, son?"
102/102hp 93/93st 127/128mv walking standing riding: none > l me
Perfectly straight, jet-black hair, neatly trimmed to a single hand's
breadth, frames the lean face of this young human man, matched by a fine
layer of dark stubble on his cheeks and chin. His face and forearms are
bronzed beyond their natural hue by Suk-Krath's fierce rays, contrasting
starkly with the keen, startling blue of his eyes. Though his tall,
broad-shouldered frame shows the promise of a powerful adult body, the last
vestiges of rawboned youth conspire to lend him a lingering malnourished
look.
The blue-eyed, rawboned lad is in excellent condition.
<worn about throat> a black sandcloth bandana
<slung across back> a cross-hilted, bone bastard sword
<worn across back> a small pack
<worn on left shoulder> an orange cloth epaulette
<worn on arms> a pair of carru leather sleeves
<worn around wrist> a studded hide wrist-wrap
<worn around wrist> a leather wrist guard
<worn on hands> a pair of hide gloves
<worn around body> a black leather and steel-grey sandcloth greatcloak
<worn on legs> a pair of black leather pants
<worn on feet> a pair of chalton leather boots
Your tone indistinct, you ask the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"...bf fff.... ..ord?"
Clearing your throat, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I...I suppose yes, Great Lord."
Sounding slightly amused and looking vaguely curious, the rugged, one-eyed templar asks you, in sirihish:
"Y'suppose?"
Still on one knee, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"'Tis Salarr gear, Great Lord. I couldn't say if it's new."
After a moment, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"No newer than me, that is."
Folding his arms, the rugged, one-eyed templar asks you, in sirihish:
"How new's you?"
Your eyes lifting to study his face, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I been workin' in the stables seven months, Great Lord. Ever since I come to the City, really."
Nodding idly, the rugged, one-eyed templar asks you, in sirihish:
"Village kid?"
Dipping a little nod, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Menos, Great Lord."
The rugged, one-eyed templar says, in sirihish:
"Or tribal? Y'don' sound tribal."
Quickly, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Oh, no, Great Lord, I'm His citizen."
Looking a bit more interested, the rugged, one-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"Menos? No shit. I was out there years ago."
After a moment's hesitation, matter-of-factly, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"You're Great Lord Rennick."
Nodding once, the rugged, one-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"Samos Rennik."
Reaching up to tap his ivory eyepatch inlaid with a jade cross, the rugged, one-eyed templar says, in sirihish:
"Had two eyes and a blue robe when I was out there."
Flushing, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Everbody speaks of you there, Great Lord."
Chuckling quietly, the rugged, one-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"Yeh, I reckon I put 'em on th' map."
The short female wearing a thin veil of deep blue silk has arrived from the east.
The short figure in a purple and green silk cloak bearing the Fale sigil has arrived from the east.
Hesitating, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Yes, Great Lord. My... Lots of 'em remember those days."
Your new ldesc is:
The blue-eyed, rawboned lad kneels by the tavern door.
The short female wearing a thin veil of deep blue silk looks up at the rugged, one-eyed templar.
Glancing aside, the rugged, one-eyed templar looks down at the short female wearing a thin veil of deep blue silk.
The short female wearing a thin veil of deep blue silk bows to the rugged, one-eyed templar respectfully, the short figure in a purple and green silk cloak bearing the Fale sigil doing the same.
On one knee near the tavern door, the blue-eyed, rawboned lad starts slightly as the short female wearing a thin veil of deep blue silk passes.
The rugged, one-eyed templar reaches up to touch the brim of his hat, returning a nod to the short female wearing a thin veil of deep blue silk's bow.
The short female wearing a thin veil of deep blue silk says to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Great Lord Templar Samos? It's an honor."
Feeling mostly awestruck, you think:
"It's him, it's him."
You look at the rugged, one-eyed templar, your eyes flickering over the red-robed form.
The tall figure in an inky-black, hooded sandcloth greatcloak slows, bowing to the rugged, one-eyed templar as he passes, attempting to make himself as small possible.
Glancing over at you briefly, the short female wearing a thin veil of deep blue silk says to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I'm Lady Samira. Unfortunately, I'm afraid I've got something very pressing to attend to. "
Bowing again before turning to leave, the short female wearing a thin veil of deep blue silk says to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"His Shadow upon you, Great Lord Templar."
The short female wearing a thin veil of deep blue silk walks west.
The short figure in a purple and green silk cloak bearing the Fale sigil walks west.
The blue-eyed, rawboned lad glances briefly at the short female wearing a thin veil of deep blue silk as she passes.
Chuckling softly to himself, the rugged, one-eyed templar says, in sirihish:
"Always make 'em nice, them Fales."
The blue-eyed, rawboned lad's bronzed ears turn a bit pink.
The blue-eyed, rawboned lad grins slightly, then wipes the expression clean.
You are Jakub, Servant/Slave/Recruit/Partisan of the House Salarr.
Keywords: blue-eyed rawboned lad
Sdesc: the blue-eyed, rawboned lad
Objective:
Long Description:
The blue-eyed, rawboned lad kneels by the tavern door.
You are 18 years, 1 months, and 179 days old,
which by your race and appearance is young.
You are 73 inches tall, and weigh 8 ten-stone.
Your strength is above average, your agility is extremely good,
your wisdom is average, and your endurance is above average.
You are neither hungry nor thirsty.
Your health is 102(102), you have 127(128) stamina, and 93(93) stun.
You have been playing for 3 days and 15 hours.
You are standing.
You are currently speaking sirihish with a southern accent.
Looking to the tavern and back, the rugged, one-eyed templar asks you, in sirihish:
"What's your name?"
You begin watching the rugged, one-eyed templar.
You say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Jakub, Lord Templar."
After a moment, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"From the Darhurds, if you...remember them."
Unnecessarily, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I'm taller'n them, though."
After a moment, the rugged, one-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"Ah.. yeh. Yeh, I reckon I do. Come on with me, son. I'll buy y' a drink."
The blue-eyed, rawboned lad stares at the rugged, one-eyed templar, unmoving.
Blinking, the blue-eyed, rawboned lad stands up.
You say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Yes, Great Lord."
You now follow the rugged, one-eyed templar.
Keeping a good distance away from the rugged, one-eyed templar, the blue-eyed, rawboned lad hesitantly makes your way to a position to his side.
Smirking, the rugged, one-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"S'what I was on about anyways, so I reckon you can join me 'n tell me 'bout Menos."
An aged human beggar fearfully scrambles out of the rugged, one-eyed templar's way.
The rugged, one-eyed templar walks east.
You follow the rugged, one-eyed templar, and walk east.
Terrible, biting sand whips around you.
The Trader's Inn [WU]
The stone walls of this building rise up about fifteen cords and are
devoid of windows. Only the doorway to the west admits any light from
outside, and that much is diffused by the colorful jade and black beads that
hang from the doorframe. Two large torches stick out on each side of the
doorway, unlit. Cool shadows cover most of the bar, except where oil lamps
hang on long bone chains above tables crowded with patrons, giving the inn a
quiet, subdued air. The slate floor underfoot is polished and clean.
A polished bar runs the length of the building's east end, where it meets
a staircase that leads up to the rooms that patrons often rent during their
stay in Allanak.
A wall here is designated as a message board.
The rugged, one-eyed templar is standing here.
A bartender stands behind the long bar, quietly waiting on customers.
The slight, black-haired man stands at attention beside a side table here.
The massive, grey-bearded man sits at a side table here, watching quietly.
A slim, half-elf server moves from table to table, taking orders.
A lithe, sable-haired woman converses gently with a group at a table.
A half-giant soldier of Tektolnes walks along here.
A human Allanaki soldier has arrived from the west.
Making his way to a small table at the north end, the rugged, one-eyed templar says to the quiet bartender, in sirihish:
"Two wines. Don' much care what kind, long as it ain't shit."
Claiming a seat for himself, the rugged, one-eyed templar sits at a small table at the north end.
The blue-eyed, rawboned lad follows in the rugged, one-eyed templar wake, murmurs, bows, and curious glances rippling through the quiet tavern.
Making your way to the other side of a small table in the back, the blue-eyed, rawboned lad hesitates, then bows low to the rugged, one-eyed templar and pulls back a chair.
Eyes on the rugged, one-eyed templar, you sit at a small table in the back.
At a small table at the north end, the rugged, one-eyed templar speaks, as the wine is speedily delivered.
The rugged, one-eyed templar gives you his fine white alabaster goblet.
You stand up from a small table in the back.
You sit at a small table at the north end.
At your table, the rugged, one-eyed templar says in sirihish, as the wine is speedily delivered:
"Darhurds, eh."
At your table, you say in sirihish, gripping your fine white alabaster goblet:
"Yes, Great Lord. We're all ranchers, if you remember...mebbe the, ah, third or fourth biggest herd?"
At your table, you say in sirihish, turning your fine white alabaster goblet around and around in your hand without taking a drink:
"...Though I dun't know how big it was in your time."
At your table, the rugged, one-eyed templar says in sirihish, with an easy, reminiscent smile:
"Feels like ages ago. Have t' say I might've let details like that slip on by. Knew it all pretty well 'n good when I was tax collectin' 'r sendin' men after stray chalton, though."
At your table, you say in sirihish, glancing down at your fine white alabaster goblet:
"Everbody's real proud to have knowed you once, Great Lord. My ma speaks of you sometimes."
Hunching your shoulders, you sip from your fine white alabaster goblet.
Chuckling quietly, the rugged, one-eyed templar sips from his fine white alabaster goblet.
At your table, the rugged, one-eyed templar says in sirihish:
"Yeah? What's she say?"
At your table, you say in sirihish, glancing up, avoiding the rugged, one-eyed templar's eyes:
"Just...that you was a real fine Lord. An'...kind. To folks."
At your table, the rugged, one-eyed templar says in sirihish, leaning back on his seat:
"Tried t' be. Your family survive th' gith attack all right?"
At your table, you say in sirihish, your own posture ramrod straight:
"They did, Great Lord. I...thought mebbe I caught a glimpse of you then. But they wouldn' let me near the gate."
At your table, you say in sirihish, to the rugged, one-eyed templar, indifferently:
"We lost some stock, I guess. I wasn't watchin' tallies, back then."
At your table, you say in sirihish, softly, glancing down at your fine white alabaster goblet:
"Nor now, o' course."
Nodding once, the rugged, one-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"Was me and a handful of others that broke through. Savin' chalton wasn' exactly on my mind right then."
At your table, you say in sirihish, raising your eyes to his, with a slight shake of your head:
"They call it Samos' village now, Great Lord. We'd o' been all kilt f'sure, otherwise."
At your table, the rugged, one-eyed templar says in sirihish, laughing and leaning back on his seat:
"Yeh. Some days I wanna take my girls 'n move on back."
At your table, you say in sirihish, one eye squinting spasmotically:
"Your gir--"
At your table, you say in sirihish, ducking your head:
"You, ah, have kids, Great Lord? if I may ask?"
At your table, the rugged, one-eyed templar says in sirihish, nodding easily:
"Oldest 's gonna wear a Blue herself, some day."
At your table, you say in sirihish, faintly, flushing crimson:
"That's real fine, Great Lord."
You think:
"My sister? A templar?"
The rugged, one-eyed templar furrows his brow, watching you.
You think:
"But maybe it's not true. He's so.."
You think:
"Lordly."
At your table, the rugged, one-eyed templar says in sirihish, after a moment, leaning forward again:
"What'd y'say yer mother's name was?"
Raising your eyes from your fine white alabaster goblet, you look at the rugged, one-eyed templar.
At your table, you say in sirihish, dropping your gaze again:
"Chalta, Great Lord."
Slowly lowering it, the rugged, one-eyed templar puts his fine white alabaster goblet onto a small table at the north end.
The blue-eyed, rawboned lad glances down at the floor, your fine white alabaster goblet tipping a bit in your hand.
You think:
"Even so, he wouldn't know her."
At your table, the rugged, one-eyed templar says in sirihish, after a few moments:
"How old are you?"
You think:
"Even if it's true."
At your table, you say in sirihish, to the rugged, one-eyed templar, your fine white alabaster goblet recovering its equilibrium:
"Eighteen, Great Lord, take a month."
Lifting it to your lips, you sip from your fine white alabaster goblet.
The rugged, one-eyed templar lifts his gaze a moment, eye going distant.
You look at the rugged, one-eyed templar, your expression veiled.
At your table, the rugged, one-eyed templar says in sirihish, after a longer pause:
"Reckon I knew her"
At your table, you say in sirihish, after a moment:
"She's spoke of you afore, Great Lord, like I said."
At your table, the rugged, one-eyed templar says in sirihish, taking in a deep breath:
"What'd.. she say?"
The short female wearing a dusty thin veil of deep blue silk has arrived from the west.
The short figure in a dusty purple and green silk cloak bearing the Fale sigil has arrived from the west.
The short figure in a dusty purple and green silk cloak bearing the Fale sigil dusts the short female wearing a dusty thin veil of deep blue silk off.
The short figure in a dusty purple and green silk cloak bearing the Fale sigil dusts herself off.
At your table, you say in sirihish, your complexion now paling a little:
"That, that you was real kind. And Lordly. Like no man she'd ever met."
Patiently, the short female wearing a thin veil of deep blue silk waits for the short figure in a purple and green silk cloak bearing the Fale sigil to dust her off, then continues into the tavern towards a short wooden bar.
The short female wearing a thin veil of deep blue silk sits at a short wooden bar.
By the short female wearing a thin veil of deep blue silk, the short figure in a purple and green silk cloak bearing the Fale sigil stands at a short wooden bar.
The quiet bartender trades a small cake to the short female wearing a thin veil of deep blue silk.
The short female wearing a thin veil of deep blue silk takes a bite of her small cake.
At your table, the rugged, one-eyed templar says in sirihish, wetting his lips before speaking:
"Yeh, I recall I treated 'er nice."
At your table, you say in sirihish, your tone a bit hushed, avoiding the rugged, one-eyed templar's eyes now:
"I, I guess she'd have been about your age then, Great Lord."
The short female wearing a thin veil of deep blue silk eats her half eaten small cake.
The blue-eyed, rawboned lad glances up at the rugged, one-eyed templar's words, your fine white alabaster goblet touching a small table at the north end with a little *clink*.
At your table, the rugged, one-eyed templar says in sirihish, inclining his head in recollection:
"Yeh. She was. How's she doin', these days?"
At your table, you say in sirihish, the tilt of your head unconsciously matching his:
"She's well, Great Lord. She's been...a bit hard put, mebbe. But well."
At your table, the rugged, one-eyed templar says in sirihish:
"I don' reckon I've heard much from 'er since I left."
At your table, you say in sirihish, flushing slightly:
"I don' s'pose so, Great Lord."
At your table, you say in sirihish, softly, studying your fine white alabaster goblet:
"Things went a bit off for her after I started growin' up."
At your table, the rugged, one-eyed templar says in sirihish, frowning a bit:
"How's that?"
At your table, you say in sirihish, not meeting the rugged, one-eyed templar's gaze:
"'s a long story, Great Lord. She was s'pposed to..."
At your table, you say in sirihish, exhaling hard:
"They brought a fella into the family for her. My... Well, Kettin. They was s'pposed to have four kids right off."
At your table, you say in sirihish, sliding your fine white alabaster goblet back and forth minutely:
"They got to be talk goin' around that she didn' keep the Contract."
The blue-eyed, rawboned lad utters the last word with some reverence.
Picking it up, you drink the ocotillo wine.
The rugged, one-eyed templar nods slowly, expression rather grave.
More closely, the rugged, one-eyed templar looks at you.
At your table, you say in sirihish, mumbling, but still ramrod straight on your chair:
"I don' mean to bore you, Great Lord."
At your table, the rugged, one-eyed templar says in sirihish, shaking his head firmly:
"No, I ain't. Keep on."
At your table, you say in sirihish, your voice barely audible:
"She tol' me, don't ever pay no mind to all that. That I could always be proud o' who my pa was."
Setting it down, you put your fine white alabaster goblet onto a small table at the north end.
At your table, the rugged, one-eyed templar says in sirihish, quietly, but firmly:
"I reckon I'm done with my drink. How's about you walk with me a ways?"
At your table, you say in sirihish, nodding slightly:
"By yer word, Great Lord."
The rugged, one-eyed templar stands up from a small table at the north end.
You now follow the rugged, one-eyed templar.
With a quickened pace, the rugged, one-eyed templar walks west.
You follow the rugged, one-eyed templar, and walk west.
You can't see a thing; sand swirls about you!
The blue-eyed, rawboned lad fumbles in your small pack.
A faint shape says, in sirihish:
"Fuckin'... don't have time for sandstorms."
You get your unlit dusty simple, leather-wrapped bone torch from your small pack.
You light an unlit dusty simple, leather-wrapped bone torch.
A faint shape exclaims, in sirihish:
"Mighty Tektolnes, allow my eyes the power to penetrate all darkness!"
A faint shape utters an incantation.
You say to a faint shape, in sirihish:
"I got a tor--"
A faint shape exclaims, in sirihish:
"Mighty Tektolnes, allow my eyes the power to penetrate all darkness!"
A faint shape utters an incantation.
A faint shape's eyes take on a red hue.
A faint shape's eye flashes red.
In the swirling sand, the blue-eyed, rawboned lad takes a step back.
Grabbing you by the arm, a faint shape says, in sirihish:
"C'mon."
You follow a faint shape, and walk west.
The blue-eyed, rawboned lad follows a faint shape with sure steps, your arm gripped tight.
...
Waving him off, a faint shape says to a faint shape, in sirihish:
"Yer dismissed, Private."
A faint shape gets his thornwood and leather keyring from his dusty oversized black backpack.
A faint shape unlocks the gates with a carved, black stone key.
A faint shape opens the gates.
You follow a faint shape, and walk east.
A faint shape closes the gates.
A faint shape leads you through the dark and sandy night into the courtyard.
Terrible, biting sand whips around you.
A Small Porch and Entryway [EW Save]
Dark red and slate grey tiles checker the narrow walkway up to the
door. The area has been swept free from dust and debris, appearing to be
well maintained. Shade from the two balconies hanging overhead covers the
area. The door leading into the building here is painted a bright ruby red
with a large silver scorpion emblazoned on the front. The scorpion is of a
high gloss and appears almost metallic, due to its highly polished sheen.
A shadow falls over the area, driving off the uncomfortable heat.
The rugged, one-eyed templar is standing here.
A human soldier of Tektolnes stands guard here.
A black-haired, rip-scarred man stands on guard here.
A human soldier of Tektolnes walks along here.
You follow the rugged, one-eyed templar, and walk east.
A Large Sitting Room [ESWU Save]
The high, wide hinged glass windows of this sitting room allow as
much outside light as possible to wash in over its elegant furnishings.
Swathes of gauzy white cotton, tied back with knotted umber cording,
serve as curtains. A plush, dark red carpet spreads itself across the
floor. A wooden staircase, its banisters carved with flowers, is set
along the northern wall and leads upstairs, and a door is set into the
southern wall, while the rest of the room flows east into a dining
area. Shelves on the northern wall hold a variety of glazed clay pots
and vases, a careful eye evident in the way they have been chosen and
displayed.
A luxuriant, sprawling kiyet-fur rug stretches out in the center of the room.
Gleaming, a large, elegantly crafted gold and purple harp stands against one wall.
A light brown, leather instrument case is sitting beside the harp.
A tall, full-leaved plant with purple flowers sits to one side of the eastern doorway.
An empty large wooden cask, etched with flames, rests here.
A large canvas painting hangs on the wall.
The rugged, one-eyed templar is standing here.
You stop watching the rugged, one-eyed templar.
You intently scan the area.
Eyes wide, you look at the rugged, one-eyed templar.
The rugged, one-eyed templar glances up the stairs as if listening for noise, then slowly nods.
Quietly, with a note of question, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"We're not in the Noble's Quarter, Great Lord."
Turning back to you and taking a deep breath, the rugged, one-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"I already know th' answer t' this, but who'd she say yer -- I know we ain't."
Finishing his question, the rugged, one-eyed templar asks you, in sirihish:
"Who'd she say yer father is?"
Exhaling hard, closing your eyes, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Lord Templar Samos Rennick. Great Lord."
Softly, your eyes still closed, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"She didn't tell me 'til I had to leave."
The rugged, one-eyed templar exhales a sigh and nods, wiping a palm down his face.
Sinking down to the couch, which is luckily behind him, the rugged, one-eyed templar sits on a well-padded, red leather couch.
Stubbly jaw set, the blue-eyed, rawboned lad stands before a well-padded, red leather couch, back straight but shoulders hunched.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
His voice a mix of emotions, not all pleasant, the rugged, one-eyed templar asks you, in sirihish:
"She didn' see fit t' tell me all this time?"
Opening your eyes, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I don' think she wanted you to know back then, Great Lord. I unnerstood she was s'posed to be usin' the Mix."
The frazzled, ebon-tressed lass sends you a telepathic message:
"Jakub, I hope the meeting with the Great Lord Templar Rennik is going well."
Glancing down, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"An' it wouldn' have done for the fambly to know, neither."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the frazzled, ebon-tressed lass with the Way.
The frazzled, ebon-tressed lass sends you a telepathic message:
"I couldn't believe my eyes. Where did you find him?"
You send a telepathic message to the frazzled, ebon-tressed lass:
"*confusion, an emotional current running high* Yeh, I'm...I'm fine."
You dissolve the psychic link.
Lifting his gaze incredulously, the rugged, one-eyed templar asks you, in sirihish:
"It wouldn't? Y'think I care what they'd think? I have a... you've been out there in Menos eighteen years 'n I didn' even KNOW?"
The rugged, one-eyed templar's voice starts to raise, but he abruptly quiets down, looking up the stairs.
Meeting the rugged, one-eyed templar's gaze, the blue-eyed, rawboned lad straightens your shoulders, your dusty cross-hilted, bone bastard sword shifting on your back.
The frazzled, ebon-tressed lass sends you a telepathic message:
"I'll let you focus, then. Mind your manners like you have been and you'll do fine."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
Faintly, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I didn' know either, Great Lord. I know she didn' mean an offense."
Exhaling a huge sigh, the rugged, one-eyed templar says, in sirihish:
"Krath sake. Fuck."
The blue-eyed, rawboned lad's teeth grate, and you relaxes your jaw.
After a few more silent moments, the rugged, one-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"I ain' angry at you. I just..."
The rugged, one-eyed templar trails off.
Frowning to himself after the pause, the rugged, one-eyed templar says, in sirihish:
"Y'know..... she's.. probably right. If y'had known... 'f people'd known... I don' know what it woulda been like for ya."
After a moment, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I won't tell no one, Great Lord. I know...havin' a kid you didn' mean to..."
The rugged, one-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"Cerys... barely ever goes out. Never without somebody watchin' 'er, usually me."
Softly, you ask the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Your girl, Great Lord?"
Looking at you seriously, the rugged, one-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"There are people, who 'f they knew who's son y'were... they'd be after you all day 'n night. Terrible people like y'hear bedtime stories about t'scare ya."
Nodding again, the rugged, one-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"My girl. Oldest. She's five."
The blue-eyed, rawboned lad nods faintly.
Faintly, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Enemies of th' Highlord."
Flopping it off and raking a hand back through his hair, the rugged, one-eyed templar stops using his dusty wide-brimmed black hat.
Quietly, the rugged, one-eyed templar asks you, in sirihish:
"Yeh. Enemies 'f ME. Y'know just a couple years back, a defiler went after th' fields out in Taki?"
The rugged, one-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"Dumbasses thought it was Menos. They wanted t' draw me out."
You ask the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"A dust-layer?"
The rugged, one-eyed templar says, in sirihish:
"Ash-layer. Sorcerer."
The blue-eyed, rawboned lad nods, jerkily.
A loud bell chimes, echoing across the city.
A loud bell chimes, echoing across the city.
A loud bell chimes, echoing across the city.
It is dawn on Abid, the 91st day of the Low Sun,
In the Year of Desert's Defiance, year 47 of the 21st Age.
The blue-eyed, rawboned lad tilts your head slightly, the bell echoing dully in the broad, carpeted room.
Glancing just for a moment in the direction of the bell, the rugged, one-eyed templar asks you, in sirihish:
"... yer normal, right? I didn't pass on any... anything I oughta know?"
Hesitating, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Y'mean, silt-cur-- tetched, or somethin'? No, Great Lord, nothin' funny about me."
With a slight, mirthless smile, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I can ride anythin' with legs, I guess."
Cracking just a hint of a grin, the rugged, one-eyed templar asks you, in sirihish:
"Includin' th' girls?"
A broad grin beaming across your face for a moment, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Th' ones that count, Great Lord."
The rugged, one-eyed templar lets out a short laugh.
You feel that you are not going to die just yet.
His mirth fading almost as quickly as it came, the rugged, one-eyed templar says, in sirihish:
"Don' go braggin' to 'em. Y'shouldn' have to, but don't."
Your tone turning serious, almost cold, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I see that, Great Lord. I won'."
Pushing back up off his seat, the rugged, one-eyed templar asks you, in sirihish:
"And y'said you're a.. stableboy for Salarr?"
The rugged, one-eyed templar stands up from a well-padded, red leather couch.
Glancing down, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"For now, Great Lord."
Nodding slowly, the rugged, one-eyed templar asks you, in sirihish:
"What's yer plan?"
Shifting your feet and lifting your eyes, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"The Tor Academy, Great Lord. If they'll let me. I got the fee nearly saved."
Glancing away, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"An' after that, I don't know. I don' think I can go back to Menos."
Nodding slowly, the rugged, one-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"It's a.. place y'can be when yer world is that small. Hard t' go back to 't when y'leave."
With something that might be an approving smile, the rugged, one-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"Tor'd be a good place t' be."
Rubbing fingers over the back of your neck, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I got an offer to work for that Lady Fale, mebbe. But I don't want to be...tied down, yet."
Adding, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Great Lord."
Catching his expression, you ask the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"You think it's the right thing to do?"
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
Nodding slowly, the rugged, one-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"Yeh, that's... find a place for yerself. Make it one that serves th' Highlord. Takes care 'f th' people y'care for."
The blue-eyed, rawboned lad nods slowly.
Studying his face, you ask the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Serving the Highlord. You mean in His Arm, Great Lord?"
Shaking his head after a moment, the rugged, one-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"Not necessarily. Th' Arm's fine and good. So 's Tor... so 's servin' other nobles if yer workin', and not lazin'."
Quietly, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"The Lady Fale's...she's..."
Stammering slightly, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"..lovely. But I dunno how many parties I could serve in my life."
The rugged, one-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"This City... it's got a lot 'f work cut out for 't. Needs th' strong t' pull all their weight 'n then some. I fight hard, kid.. but it ain' for me. I don' much care about glory 'r havin' a statue."
The blue-eyed, rawboned lad nods, your adam's apple moving.
Motioning to the upstairs, the rugged, one-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"I got two little girls I wanna see have better days. I got other people I'd lay my life out for, not just th' Highlord. S' my duty t' him, t' fight 'n protect so we're all better."
Chucklng a little at himself, the rugged, one-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"Now look 't me. I'm lecturin'. But... keep that in mind. Life ain' all parties 'n games."
Your expression vaguely troubled, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I think that's all some folks knows, Great Lord. An' others...can't put thought past making their water an' food."
Nodding bitterly, the rugged, one-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"It is all some knows, 'n even I can't change that. But I can try t' make more folk see things how they are. We're a city 'f fighters, Jakub, 'f strength. We stop fightin'... well, that ain' us."
The blue-eyed, rawboned lad nods.
Sighing and shaking his head, with a frown, the rugged, one-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"As for.. th' rest.. I dunno what t' tell you. I.. need t' think about things."
The blue-eyed, rawboned lad dips a nod, dropping your gaze to the rugged, one-eyed templar's knees.
Eyes lowered, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I'm...I'm grateful t' have yer blood, Great Lord. Or some of it."
Glancing back up, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Great Lord, when you're fightin' for all that--"
Nodding gravely, his tone a bit forceful, the rugged, one-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"Don't waste 't, then. And don' let 't go to yer head. Th' last thing I'll let you do is strut around livin' off my name."
Tone softening as he adds, the rugged, one-eyed templar says, in sirihish:
".. though it seems like y'wouldn't. And it'd be a damn fool thing t' do anyway."
Realizing he interrupted a question, the rugged, one-eyed templar asks you, in sirihish:
"Yeah?"
Your tone almost frosty, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I wouldn' do that, Great Lord. I promised you I won't tell no one."
Rubbing a palm over your chin, your shoulders slumping a bit, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Well, talki-- seein' all these Nobles and all-- sometimes I think I'll jus' get crushed, or et, or somethin' if I get too near 'em."
Continuing, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"How they, they kill folks jus' for spite, or--"
Breaking off, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"--I shouldn' have said that, Great Lord."
Wryly, the rugged, one-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"It ain' like Menos, is it."
Uncomfortably, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Not much, Great Lord."
Looking a bit more serious, the rugged, one-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"I could preach at you more about 'em bein' yer betters, and not t' question 'em. By all rights in th' law, they are, nobody'd question. Whatever y'think, keep in mind that's how 't is."
Soberly, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I unnerstand, Great Lord."
Sighing, the rugged, one-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"They're people who.. don' really know a life like you've ever had. It's their privledge. How they choose t' use 't 's up t' them. They ain' all.. eh.. spiteful."
Simply, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"'s the Highlord's will."
With a frown, the rugged, one-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"Yeh."
The rugged, one-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"I ain't gonna stand here and tell you that you're on their level cos of me. What I will say is a person's greatness don't come from a title they have or a ring they wear."
The rugged, one-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"Least not in my eyes. Be th' best y'can make of yerself."
The blue-eyed, rawboned lad flushes, nodding again.
A little huskily, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I'll do it, Great Lord."
After a moment, nodding slowly, the rugged, one-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"Good. Jakub, I'll say this much... I brought y'in t' this world, so I'll make sure it don' end you 'f I have a say so."
Your eyes unnaturally bright, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I think the City's a lot like the wastes, Great Lord. You've got to learn the sands an' the beasts before you can think to tread easy."
Shaking your head, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Meanin'...I won' be foolish."
Gruffly, the rugged, one-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"But I ain' gonna coddle you either. You don' much strike me as stupid. I reckon I'm pleased 't that. I'll expect you t' take care 'f yerself as a grown man should."
Straightening your shoulders, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"O' course, Great Lord."
Glancing upstairs again, the rugged, one-eyed templar asks you, in sirihish:
"One of 'em's gonna wake up in just a bit. Y'have anything else you'd ask me?"
Hesitating, you ask the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"You're not angry with my ma, Great Lord?"
Opening his mouth, closing it, then finally delivering an answer after a bit, the rugged, one-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"I don't know. I ain' gonna hurt 'er."
The blue-eyed, rawboned lad nods, your posture relaxing just a little.
The rugged, one-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"Bringin' her t' live with me probably ain' gonna happen, though."
Shaking your head, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Didn' expect nothin' like that, Great Lord."
Exhaling hard, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I guess I got a lot to think about."
The rugged, one-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"We both do."
Rubbing your chin, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"There's a chance they won't let me into the Academy."
With a grim smile, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Which I got a plan for, too."
After a few moments, the rugged, one-eyed templar asks you, in sirihish:
"What's that?"
Letting several moments pass, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Might be that Lady Samira would sponsor it, if they won't take me of myself. But I guess Tor an' Fale ain't on the friendliest terms."
Glancing away, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"But there's slower ways, too. Work through the Byn, say."
Nodding slowly, the rugged, one-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"Work it out a ways. If yer good enough 'n make a good enough case, I think you'll manage."
Meeting his eyes, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I will, Great Lord. "
The rugged, one-eyed templar smiles back at you briefly.
As the crying of a small child come from upstairs, the rugged, one-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"I better show y'out. I'll.. try 'n stay in touch."
Quietly, nodding, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Thank you for...tellin' me, Great Lord. That you're really..."
The blue-eyed, rawboned lad shrugs, your voice trailing off.
You now follow the rugged, one-eyed templar.
Quietly, as he steps out, the rugged, one-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"Yeh. Part 'f me wasn' sure I should've."
The rugged, one-eyed templar walks west.
You follow the rugged, one-eyed templar, and walk west.
A Small Porch and Entryway [EW Save]
You follow the rugged, one-eyed templar, and walk west.
A Large Courtyard [NESW]
Halting beside the gate, the blue-eyed, rawboned lad drops again to one knee, bowing low to the rugged, one-eyed templar.
The rugged, one-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"Remember what I said."
The rugged, one-eyed templar unlocks the gates with a carved, black stone key.
Quietly, you say to the rugged, one-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Tell nobody. Be smart. Serve the Highlord."
The blue-eyed, rawboned lad stands up, with the ease of youthful joints.
A faint shape says to you, in sirihish:
"'n be yer best."
Holding the gate open in the fading light, a faint shape says to you, in sirihish:
"'n His shadow, kid."
Your tone wondering, you say to a faint shape, in sirihish:
"His Shadow, Great Lord."
The blue-eyed, rawboned lad slips out the open gate.
Meleth's Circle [NESW]
The rugged, one-eyed templar is standing here.
The burly, long-haired bouncer stands here, guarding the inn's entrance.
An aged human beggar sits cross-legged against the wall of the inn here.
Hurrying out of the tavern, the blue-eyed, rawboned lad stops dead.
Eyes wide, you...
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