Original Submissions by Reiloth

• 

  Mister Gerakis and Misses Mosali
  Added on Jul 28, 2009

  A booth in the Storm's Eye leads to bad blood, quicker than Misses Mosali would care to think.

  ---

  The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak = Mister Gerakis
  
  The figure in dusty drab weathered storm-cloak = Misses Mosali of House Salarr
  
  ~~
  
  The Tribal Room [N]
  Separated from the balcony by a curtain of beaded fringe, this
  sparsely furnished room is entirely decorated in a tribal motif. Boldly
  painted sandcloth murals totally blanket the walls and are tacked to the
  ceiling overhead, concealing the room's artificial construction and giving
  an impression of a much larger open-air space. A large, highly decorated
  woven mat covers the entire floor, and only a few simple carvings finish out
  the decor.
  A radiantly woven, golden cloth tapestry is sewn securely to the wall.
  A bead and feather adorned rug hanging has been affixed to one wall.
  An impressive raptor hide, darkly-stained, has been mounted onto one wall.
  
  Rubbing a huge hand over his squashed, hooked nose, the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
  "What you .. wanted to talk about?"
  
  Placing both gloved hands atop your sleek, rantarri-headed cane's snarling feline head, easing forward, you say to the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
  "I would appreciate if'n you could tell me what happened exactly, between you an' my employee, Jorue."
  
  Narrowing an eye beneath the shadows of her sunslits, you say to the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
  "I'd also prefer th' truth, as I only want t'know what happened. I, and my House, do not mean you harm."
  
  His bushy eyebrows furrowing, the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
  "Uhh.. so you don't know?"
  
  In a calm rasp of a soprano, shifting her weight from right to left though it remains mostly on top of your sleek, rantarri-headed cane, you say to the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
  "I would just like to hear your side of things."
  
  You say, in sirihish:
  "It is only...Fair."
  
  Shrugging his huge shoulders a bit, the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
  "Okay. Your employee Jorue led a Carru at me, which hurt my neck real bad. I moved off a little down the road, and there he went leadin' it my way again."
  
  Clearing her throat roughly, you say to the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
  "Yes, continue."
  
  Stroking his massive beard and continuing, the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
  "When I asked him what he was doin', and told him what happened to me, he told me that.. I was too slow and it wasn't his problem. So I kicked his little ass up and down the crack in the shield wall"
  
  With a calm nod, you say to the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
  "That must have felt good."
  
  Staring down at you, the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
  "Was okay. I was hurtin' at the time, mostly."
  
  North, through a curtain, is On the Balcony.
  The curtain is open.
  [Far]
  Nothing.
  [Near]
  The battle-scarred, one-legged mul sits here, crutch and inks within reach.
  
  The figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak nods in silence, watching the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak's face intently.
  
  A few massive fingers disappearing in his beard as he scratches himself, the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
  "Sooo.. what Jorue tell you?"
  
  You ask the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
  "That is it?"
  
  The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
  "Yeah. That's pretty much it."
  
  Raising a hand from your sleek, rantarri-headed cane, you ask the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
  "So you did not come back to this Outpost, an' claim Jorue tried to kill you?"
  
  You ask, in sirihish:
  "And speak personally with First Sergeant Nahkt, over this matter?"
  
  The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
  "Didn't I just say he was leadin' Carru to me over and over?"
  
  With a calm smile as the hand droops back to your sleek, rantarri-headed cane, you ask, in sirihish:
  "First you say once..And then over and over. Which is it?"
  
  The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
  "When did I say once?"
  
  Tilting her head to one side, you ask the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
  "When did you say otherwise?"
  
  Holding up two fingers at you, the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
  "Two times."
  
  Shrugging casually, you ask the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
  "Did it ever occur to you that perhaps...The Carru wanted to kill you?"
  
  You ask the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
  "And Jorue?"
  
  You say, in sirihish:
  "That it...In fact...Is a dangerous animal wit' little sense or reason running through its antler'd head."
  
  The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
  "Where I'm from, that kind of shit gets you killed Missus Mosali."
  
  Shrugging his huge shoulders at you, the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
  "An I sure didn't like it none."
  
  With an easy nod, sucking a short breath through her flared nostrils, you say to the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
  "Regardless, I cannot allow for my employees to be harmed, intentionally at tha', without recompense of some shape and form."
  
  The figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak raps a few fingers along the snarling feline head of your sleek, rantarri-headed cane.
  
  Gesturing between you and himself, the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
  "So uhh.. the inix got back to you didn't it? Recompense right there."
  
  You ask, in sirihish:
  "What inix?"
  
  The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
  "The black one."
  
  You ask, in sirihish:
  "Jorue's inix?"
  
  With a tiny nod, the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
  "Yeah, his inix."
  
  You say, in sirihish:
  "That...Is not good enough, unfortunately."
  
  Snapping his fingers loudly, the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak exclaims to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
  "I got it!"
  
  The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
  "Gotta large or two I could probably give you. Like 'sid right?"
  
  In a still-calm voice, her chin lowering a fraction of an inch, you say, in sirihish:
  "'sid makes problems like these go away, forever. In fact, it'd make it possible for you to still deal with our House."
  
  As an afterthought, her blue eyes widening within the shadows of her sunslits, you say, in sirihish:
  "And I do not think we would want these problems, between you and Jorue, to be remembered."
  
  You sigh.
  
  Nodding a bit as he begins to rise from a long woven mat, the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
  "Okay. Salarr thought I was a raider, huh?"
  
  The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak stands up from a long woven mat.
  
  You say to the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
  "Y'gotta see it from our point of view, Mister Gerakis."
  
  You say to the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
  "You attacked a House employee, one way or another. Shit, Jorue could've been a little prick and tried t'lead a Carru into you."
  
  Personally-,, you say to the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
  "I do not think it was the case. I think it was a misunderstanding."
  
  You say to the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
  "But, it still cannot stand that a non-afilliated half-giant attacked a member of Salarr, without there being some sort of...Parley."
  
  Holding his massive paws up, palms out, the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
  "I understand, believe me."
  
  With a simple smile, you say to the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
  "I have no ill feelings towards you, Mister Gerakis. I have killed friends, over simple misunderstandings. It does not feel good to know the situation is not in your control."
  
  The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak begins to move toward the curtain, his big bushy eyebrows wrinkling up.
  
  The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
  "Yeah.. yeah.."
  
  The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak subdues you.
  
  The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
  "I'll tell you though."
  
  The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
  "I have been in control."
  
  The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak attacks you.
  The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak lightly hits your hand.
  
  PANIC! You couldn't escape!
  
  You bludgeon the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak's leg.
  
  You wound the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak on his wrist with your bludgeon.
  
  You silently reach into a leather knife belt and discreetly slide out a dusty vicious claw longknife.
  
  You land a solid stab to the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak's neck.
  The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak's muscles contract, and his body goes rigid.
  You wound the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak on his head with your bludgeon.
  
  You stab the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak very hard on his back.
  You viciously bludgeon the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak on his head.
  The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak reels from the blow.
  
  You stab the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak very hard on his back.
  You wound the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak on his head with a brutal bludgeon.
  The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak's eyes roll back in his head.
  The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak crumples to the ground.
  
  The Tribal Room [N]
  Separated from the balcony by a curtain of beaded fringe, this
  sparsely furnished room is entirely decorated in a tribal motif. Boldly
  painted sandcloth murals totally blanket the walls and are tacked to the
  ceiling overhead, concealing the room's artificial construction and giving
  an impression of a much larger open-air space. A large, highly decorated
  woven mat covers the entire floor, and only a few simple carvings finish out
  the decor.
  A radiantly woven, golden cloth tapestry is sewn securely to the wall.
  A bead and feather adorned rug hanging has been affixed to one wall.
  An impressive raptor hide, darkly-stained, has been mounted onto one wall.
  The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak is sleeping here, rigid and unmoving, bleeding profusely.
  
  You look down at the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak.
  Before you is an unusually proportioned half-giant. Rather squat for one
  of his race, this half-giant is nonetheless packing dense muscle which
  bulges grossly to exaggeration wherever the eye can see. His brutish, hairy
  features are clearly masculine and a full, bushy beard of coarse dark hair
  frames his round face. His hairline recedes nearly over the top of his
  head, which bears curly black hair in far less abundance then the lower half
  of his face. Beady black eyes peer out from beneath bushy black brows,
  appearing like bits of polished obsidian to either side of his squat, hooked
  nose. Fine cracks can be seen all over this half-giant male's exposed skin,
  appearing almost as a sprawling web over his severely sun-browned skin.
  Some cracks in the tough hide seem to be the resting place of bits of
  reddish and yellow dust and grit which almost livens the harshly tanned
  flesh in a way similar to poorly inked tattoos.
  The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak is in poor condition.
  
  The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak is using:
  a dusty bone helmet
  a dusty dusky-black feather
  a dusty desert-camouflaged, sandcloth-covered collar
  a dusty double-layered sandcloth pack
  a dusty braided leather strap
  a dusty braided leather strap
  a new bloodied pair of desert-camouflaged, sandcloth sleeves
  a spiked, chitin bracer
  a spiked, chitin bracer
  a dusty pair of desert-camouflaged, sandcloth gloves
  a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak
  a bloodied pair of sand-colored sandcloth pants
  a dusty pair of sturdy leather boots
  
  He is carrying:
  nothing obvious
  
  The figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak's breathing becomes ragged and slow.
  
  The figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak prods the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak's side with a soft booted toe.
  
  Through a curtain to the north is On the Balcony.
  The curtain is open.
  [Far]
  Nothing.
  [Near]
  The battle-scarred, one-legged mul sits here, crutch and inks within reach.
  
  You are:
  Corporal/Hand/Merchant Trainee/Crafter of the House Salarr, jobs: recruiter | leader | banker |
  Relationship to the land is neutral.
  You are currently speaking sirihish with a tribal accent.
  Your mood is neutral.
  You are standing.
  You are refusing saves on: arrest.
  You are not being merciful.
  You aren't watching anything in particular.
  
  You stop using your dusty vicious claw longknife.
  
  You carefully snap a dusty vicious claw longknife into a dusty pair of soft, grey-veined black boots.
  
  You are very hungry.
  
  >close curtain north
  Ok.
  
  The figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak drops down to a squat in front of the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak.
  
  >draw vicious boots
  You reach down and draw a dusty vicious claw longknife out of your boot.
  You brandish your dusty vicious claw longknife.
  
  You stop using your sleek, rantarri-headed cane.
  
  You put your sleek, rantarri-headed cane into your dusty steel grey duffel bag.
  
  The figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak straddles the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak's gigantic leg, drawing your dusty vicious claw longknife up from her boot.
  
  You say, in sirihish:
  "That wasn't an excellent idea."
  
  You say, in sirihish:
  "But i'm going to have to make this quick."
  
  In a low voice, you say, in sirihish:
  "I don't know why you did that, but you did."
  
  The figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak rises from the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak's leg.
  
  You say, in sirihish:
  "If you wake up..."
  
  You say, in sirihish:
  "You will tell all of Kurac and Salarr I murdered you, or tried."
  
  You say, in sirihish:
  "Just like Jorue."
  
  You say, in sirihish:
  "Unfortunately, I can't let that happen."
  
  The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak's eyes flutter open.
  
  You say, in sirihish:
  "Find my mind, now."
  
  Grating her teeth, you say, in sirihish:
  "This very instant."
  
  The figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak draws your dusty vicious claw longknife up.
  
  You begin moving silently toward your victim.
  
  The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak groans loudly as you thrust your knife up between his ribs.
  You inflict a grievous wound on the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak's back with your stab.
  The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak's eyes roll back in his head.
  The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak crumples to the ground.
  
  The figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak repeatedly jabs your dusty vicious claw longknife into the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak's hindquarters, drawing long wounds up and down the small of his back.
  
  The figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak slides your dusty razor-sharp, hawk-etched halfsword deep into the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak's back, severing the spine and pushing it upwards through the mass of intestines and entrails and other, more important organs.
  
  >kill giant
  You attack the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak.
  You do unspeakable damage to the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak's back with your stab.
  You viciously stab the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak on his back.
  
  Drawing the blade out of the giant's back with a wet *SHLUP*, you say, in sirihish:
  "Right shame, mate. Coulda just done with a large or two."
  
  ~~

  The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak = Mister Gerakis
  
  The figure in dusty drab weathered storm-cloak = Misses Mosali of House Salarr
  
  ~~
  
  The Tribal Room [N]
  Separated from the balcony by a curtain of beaded fringe, this
  sparsely furnished room is entirely...
  Continue Reading...
• 

  Final Memories of Him
  Added on Sep 28, 2006

  A song written by Jochebed Abishai of Elkinhym in light of his father's passing.

  ---

  My first memories of him were by the age of five,
  When he mussed with my hair, and told me voice snide,
  "Son, you must remember when the day is done,
  to clean your feet in the shadow of the sun.";
  And to this day, upon arriving home,
  I look to my shoes, and for a man who will never come.
  
  My second memories of him were by the age of seventeen,
  When he clapped my shoulder, slapping my bearded chin unclean,
  "Son, you must remember to compliment your mate,
  Or else you will find yourself in a deprived state.";
  And to this day, when I see my mate's eyes,
  I revel in their color aloud, knowing he has died.
  
  My third memories of him were by the age of twenty-two,
  when he mused of my sister, and of my new wound.
  "Son, remember that 'great things' should be considered lightly,
  and the littlest of things with such detail, not slightly."
  And to this day, when a man pries to the state of my face,
  I smile as I do, and leave him in haste.
  
  My fourth memories of him were by the age of twenty-five,
  when I held his hand, and watched the last living breath die,
  "Son, for me this you must do; never give up, or pretend to be a fool;
  Always to yourself be true, and only willingly play the tool."
  And with his dying breath I sighed, my eyes turning to shaded places
  inside;
  and when my feet loudly scuff more than I intend,
  His dying words, my thoughts often recommend.
  
  My final memories of him were by the age of right now,
  In song he is remembered, like the sky or dust-clouds,
  "Father, you must remember that I miss you so,
  and that your words, succinctly, to my children will go."
  And to this day, a thought of him brings tears to my eyes,
  knowing his life was snuffed, like a torch to the wind's sighs.
  

  My first memories of him were by the age of five,
  When he mussed with my hair, and told me voice snide,
  "Son, you must remember when the day is done,
  to clean your feet in the shadow of the sun.";
  And to this day, upon arriving home,
  I look to my shoes, and for a man who will never come.
  
  My second...
  Continue Reading...
• 

  The Latest of Nights
  Added on Sep 18, 2006

  An eerie patriotic song of the North, written by Jochebed Abishai of Elkinhym.

  ---

  When a limp wind runs through my feet,
  through the toes and where the fingers meet,
  through the very core of my being,
  I know that something passes nearby, unseen.
  
  A shadow of doubt lingers in my mind,
  When I see a man with eyes unkind,
  A glance in the crowd, proving unwanted company,
  though I know I am safe from the things I can't see.
  
  They walk along my face in the sun,
  They whisper in my shadow of the trophies they've won,
  They prowl in my alleys, thinking to win the good fight,
  But my eyes remain open, on the latest of nights.
  
  They drink in my bars, praising my King,
  They piss in my gutters, and laugh at the scene.
  They make love in my beds, and my Children awake,
  They kill those who would just take, and take, and take.
  
  So wary the traveller who trods with soft step from the South,
  And likens himself to a quirri in the hunt,
  For eyes spill from my cracks in the street underneath,
  and ears will listen for words far too blunt.
  

  When a limp wind runs through my feet,
  through the toes and where the fingers meet,
  through the very core of my being,
  I know that something passes nearby, unseen.
  
  A shadow of doubt lingers in my mind,
  When I see a man with eyes unkind,
  A glance in the crowd, proving unwanted company,
  though I know I...
  Continue Reading...