Original Submissions by Rhyden

• 

  The Kids who Tricked the Whore
  Added on Dec 15, 2009

  Jet hires Xeraz, the male whore, to show himself nude to Cross. The kids explain their treachery to embarass Xeraz pantless, but ever furious, the Bynner-whore insists his sid be paid.

  ---

                                                              ***
  
  Turning his gaze sharply, you say to the dark, green-gazed youth, in sirihish:
       "Yeh watchin'? That's extra."
  
  Motioning to you, the dark, green-gazed youth says to the dirty, scar-tattooed youth, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "This is a friend of mine."
  
  Crossing his arms, the bronzed, dark-dreadlocked man peers down at the dirty, scar-tattooed youth with a lifting brow.
  
  127/127 124/136 116/116 walking standing riding: none tell jet (turning his gaze from ~dirty) We've met...does she...know what she's doin' here?
  Turning his gaze from the dirty, scar-tattooed youth, you ask the dark, green-gazed youth, in sirihish:
       "We've met...does she...know what she's doin' here?"
  
  127/127 124/136 116/116 walking standing riding: none
  
  The dark, green-gazed youth whispers to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "I'll pay you fourty since I found you the business and ten extra to watch. Fifty."
  
  Flatly, the dirty, scar-tattooed youth says to the dark, green-gazed youth, in rinthi-accented sirihish:
       "Ah'm -not- gettin' nakked in some alley so Ah can be stabbed."
  
  The dark, green-gazed youth begins guarding the dirty, scar-tattooed youth.
  
  127/127 124/136 116/116 walking standing riding: none tell jet (nodding once) Deal.
  Nodding once, you say to the dark, green-gazed youth, in sirihish:
       "Deal."
  
  127/127 124/136 116/116 walking standing riding: none l
  A Shadowy Alleyway [EW]
     A narrow, small alley twines its way between small crumbling buildings
  made of mudbrick, their aging bulk casting long shadows across the
  hard-packed, sandy dirt which surfaces it.  Thick with shadows, it smells of
  decay and urine.  A multitude of noises from the bustling outside filter
  into its confines, resounding against the ancient, timeworn bricks. 
     To the west, the looming mass of the outer walls of Allanak
  overshadows the broader expanse of Wall Road. 
  The dirty, scar-tattooed youth is standing here.
  The dark, green-gazed youth is standing here.
  
  127/127 124/136 116/116 walking standing riding: none l self
  Long, brown plaits of hair have been twisted tightly into ropy dreadlocks
  that snake down the sides and back of this man's head.  His dreaded mane has
  been sun-bleached, leaving several of his braids with a frayed, russet color
  while his roots remain brown.  His darkly bronzed face is strong boned with
  sharply angled brown brows and severe, blue eyes surrounded by dark lashes.
  His sturdy nose steeps to a point with umber colored bristles curving over
  his lips and across his solid chin in a close-cut beard.  His sinewy neck
  stretches down to his wide shouldered frame.  His brawny arms are ripped
  with musculature, veins winding down his forearms and ending with callused
  hands.  His legs make up most of his height, looking to be robust like the
  rest of his toned body. 
  The bronzed, dark-dreadlocked man is in excellent condition.
  
  <worn on head>           a simple black helm
  <worn around neck>       a studded hide gorget
  <worn about throat>      a black sandcloth bandana
  <slung across back>      a blackened serrated bone warsword
  <worn across back>       a black crescent shield
  <worn on left shoulder>  a grey, obsidian fist-sewn patch
  <worn around wrist>      a studded bone bracer
  <worn on hands>          a pair of shell-backed gloves
  <worn around body>       a hooded, brown military aba
  <worn on legs>           a pair of light-brown pants
  <worn on feet>           a pair of low-cut, brown boots
  
  127/127 124/136 116/116 walking standing riding: none em Turning around, @ begins to unbuckle ~belt, whistling as he begins to unroll ~pants.
  Turning around, the bronzed, dark-dreadlocked man begins to unbuckle your leather swordbelt, whistling as he begins to unroll your pair of light-brown pants.
  
  The dirty, scar-tattooed youth backs away from you, looking a bit alarmed.
  
  127/127 124/136 116/116 walking standing riding: none sing (as his pants drop to his ankles) Dum dee dum.
  As his pants drop to his ankles, you sing, in sirihish:
       "Dum dee dum."
  
  With a shake of his head, the dark, green-gazed youth asks the dirty, scar-tattooed youth, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "You won't get stabbed, Gosh everyone is so paranoid. Am I that scary?"
  
  The dirty, scar-tattooed youth says to the dark, green-gazed youth, in rinthi-accented sirihish:
       "This ain't a good idea. Ah think we should go now."
  
  127/127 124/136 116/116 walking standing riding: none rem pants
  You stop using your pair of light-brown pants.
  
  127/127 124/136 116/116 walking standing riding: none drop pants around a bronzed, dreadlocked man's ankles.
  You drop a pair of light-brown pants.  Shown to the room as:
  A pair of light-brown pants is here around a bronzed, dreadlocked man's ankles.
  
  With a shake of his head, the dark, green-gazed youth says to the dirty, scar-tattooed youth, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "I understand, its educational for you Cross."
  
  The dark, green-gazed youth says to the dirty, scar-tattooed youth, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "Remember all those questions? This will like answer half of them."
  
  127/127 124/136 116/116 walking standing riding: none say (as ~aba flutters in the alley's breeze, showing his naked legs) Umm...
  As your hooded, brown military aba flutters in the alley's breeze, showing his naked legs, you say, in sirihish:
       "Umm..."
  
  Tugging her wrist away, or trying to, the dirty, scar-tattooed youth says to the dark, green-gazed youth, in rinthi-accented sirihish:
       "Ah can learn latah. -Much- latah."
  
  127/127 124/136 116/116 walking standing riding: none tell jet (watching ~dirty with a smirk) Heh, if she's scared now, she'll be frightened when she sees my little templar.
  Watching the dirty, scar-tattooed youth with a smirk, you say to the dark, green-gazed youth, in sirihish:
       "Heh, if she's scared now, she'll be frightened when she sees my little templar."
  
  127/127 124/136 116/116 walking standing riding: none tell jet (holding a hand out, palm up) I expect half pay if she flees.
  Holding a hand out, palm up, you say to the dark, green-gazed youth, in sirihish:
       "I expect half pay if she flees."
  
  127/127 124/136 116/116 walking standing riding: none l
  A Shadowy Alleyway [EW]
     A narrow, small alley twines its way between small crumbling buildings
  made of mudbrick, their aging bulk casting long shadows across the
  hard-packed, sandy dirt which surfaces it.  Thick with shadows, it smells of
  decay and urine.  A multitude of noises from the bustling outside filter
  into its confines, resounding against the ancient, timeworn bricks. 
     To the west, the looming mass of the outer walls of Allanak
  overshadows the broader expanse of Wall Road. 
  A pair of light-brown pants is here around a bronzed, dreadlocked man's ankles.
  The dirty, scar-tattooed youth is standing here.
  The dark, green-gazed youth is standing here.
  
  Releasing again, the dark, green-gazed youth asks the dirty, scar-tattooed youth, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "Hey, cross, I thought you wanted to learn?"
  
  127/127 124/136 116/116 walking standing riding: none say (placing his hands on his hips, shifting his bare legs, glancing upwards at the darkening sky with a shake of his head) Waste of my time...
  Placing his hands on his hips, shifting his bare legs, glancing upwards at the darkening sky with a shake of his head, you say, in sirihish:
       "Waste of my time..."
  
  Looking releaved as her regains her wrist, the dirty, scar-tattooed youth says to the dark, green-gazed youth, in rinthi-accented sirihish:
       "Uh. Mebbe latah. Other things ter learn fist. Ain't no rush."
  
  127/127 124/136 116/116 walking standing riding: none get pants (bending over)
  Bending over, you pick up a pair of light-brown pants.
  It is very light.
  
  127/127 124/136 116/116 walking standing riding: none wear pants (pulling them up)
  Pulling them up, you wear your pair of light-brown pants on your legs.
  
  127/127 124/136 116/116 walking standing riding: none l self
  Long, brown plaits of hair have been twisted tightly into ropy dreadlocks
  that snake down the sides and back of this man's head.  His dreaded mane has
  been sun-bleached, leaving several of his braids with a frayed, russet color
  while his roots remain brown.  His darkly bronzed face is strong boned with
  sharply angled brown brows and severe, blue eyes surrounded by dark lashes.
  His sturdy nose steeps to a point with umber colored bristles curving over
  his lips and across his solid chin in a close-cut beard.  His sinewy neck
  stretches down to his wide shouldered frame.  His brawny arms are ripped
  with musculature, veins winding down his forearms and ending with callused
  hands.  His legs make up most of his height, looking to be robust like the
  rest of his toned body. 
  The bronzed, dark-dreadlocked man is in excellent condition.
  
  <worn on head>           a simple black helm
  <worn around neck>       a studded hide gorget
  <worn about throat>      a black sandcloth bandana
  <slung across back>      a blackened serrated bone warsword
  <worn across back>       a black crescent shield
  <worn on left shoulder>  a grey, obsidian fist-sewn patch
  <worn around wrist>      a studded bone bracer
  <worn on hands>          a pair of shell-backed gloves
  <worn around body>       a hooded, brown military aba
  <worn on legs>           a pair of light-brown pants
  <worn on feet>           a pair of low-cut, brown boots
  
  As he points at you with a grin, the dark, green-gazed youth whispers something to the dirty, scar-tattooed youth.
  
  127/127 124/136 116/116 walking standing riding: none say (leaning his shielded back to the wall, lifting a boot to rest against a few grimy bricks) Anythin' else yeh little huns wanted?
  Leaning his shielded back to the wall, lifting a boot to rest against a few grimy bricks, you ask, in sirihish:
       "Anythin' else yeh little huns wanted?"
  
  127/127 124/136 116/116 walking standing riding: none l in aba
  In a hooded, brown military aba (used) :
  a pile of allanaki coins
  a chunk of yellow scented soap
  a pile of coins
  the heart of a fleshy green plant
  a crumbling red tablet
  a translucent green tablet
  a small yellow tablet
  
  127/127 124/136 116/116 walking standing riding: none l in belt
  In a leather swordbelt (used) :
  a sharp bone knife
  an unlit simple, leather-wrapped bone torch
  a stitched, obsidian-dyed ticket
  
  Skeptically, the dirty, scar-tattooed youth whispers something to the dark, green-gazed youth.
  
  The dark, green-gazed youth laughs in amusement as his gaze shifts to you.
  
  The dirty, scar-tattooed youth says to you, in rinthi-accented sirihish:
       "Uh. No. We're good."
  
  With a grin, the dark, green-gazed youth says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "This was actually a prank, to get yer pants down and embarass yourself. hahahaha"
  
  127/127 124/136 116/116 walking standing riding: none say (taking a step towards ~jet, holding a hand out) Where's my sid?
  Taking a step towards the dark, green-gazed youth, holding a hand out, you ask, in sirihish:
       "Where's my sid?"
  
  The dark, green-gazed youth laughs heartily as he places his hands onto his knees.
  
  127/127 124/136 116/116 walking standing riding: none em chuckles, unamusedly.
  The bronzed, dark-dreadlocked man chuckles, unamusedly.
  
  The dirty, scar-tattooed youth stands, looking uncomfortable.
  
  The dark, green-gazed youth exclaims to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "I only pay sid to an agreed apon ammount, I'm not paying you for not doing your job! Bad seducer!"
  
  127/127 124/136 116/116 walking standing riding: none tell jet (leaping forwards with a grunt) Where's my sid!?
  Leaping forwards with a grunt, you ask the dark, green-gazed youth, in sirihish:
       "Where's my sid!?"
  
  127/127 124/136 116/116 walking standing riding: none subdue jet
  You subdue the dark, green-gazed youth, despite his attempts to struggle away.
  The dark, green-gazed youth stops guarding the dirty, scar-tattooed youth.
  
  127/127 121/136 116/116 walking standing riding: none shout (giving ~jet a shake against the wall) Where's my sid!?
  Giving the dark, green-gazed youth a shake against the wall, you shout in sirihish:
       "Where's my sid!?"
  
  The dirty, scar-tattooed youth shouts, in rinthi-accented sirihish:
       "LEt 'im go!"
  
  The dark, green-gazed youth struggles against you and breaks free.
  
  127/127 121/136 116/116 walking standing riding: none l
  A Shadowy Alleyway [EW]
       A narrow, small alley twines its way between small crumbling
  buildings made of mudbrick, their aging bulk casting long shadows
  across the hard-packed, sandy dirt which surfaces it.  Thick with
  shadows, it smells of decay and urine.  The quiet night air sweeps
  through its confines, brushing sand grains in a eerie rasp against
  the ancient, timeworn bricks.
       To the west, the looming mass of the outer walls of Allanak
  overshadows the broader expanse of Wall Road.
  The dirty, scar-tattooed youth is standing here.
  The dark, green-gazed youth is standing here.
  
  The dark, green-gazed youth draws a slim bone rapier.
  
  127/127 121/136 116/116 walking standing riding: none em lets go of ~jet, brows furrowing.
  The bronzed, dark-dreadlocked man lets go of the dark, green-gazed youth, brows furrowing.
  
  The dirty, scar-tattooed youth gets her black-dyed bone throwing knife from her dusty dark, hooded cloak.
  
  With a grin, the dark, green-gazed youth says, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "Back off."
  
  127/127 121/136 116/116 walking standing riding: none rem shield
  You stop using your black crescent shield.
  
  The dark, green-gazed youth begins guarding the east exit.
  
  127/127 121/136 116/116 walking standing riding: none es shield
  You hold your black crescent shield.
  
  The dark, green-gazed youth stops using his chitin-decorated wooden shield.
  
  The dark, green-gazed youth holds his chitin-decorated wooden shield.
  
  127/127 121/136 116/116 walking standing riding: none tell jet (reaching a hand back to ~warsword) I'll ask yeh once more.
  
  The dirty, scar-tattooed youth brandishes her black-dyed bone throwing knife.
  
  127/127 121/136 116/116 walking standing riding: none Reaching a hand back to your blackened serrated bone warsword, you say to the dark, green-gazed youth, in sirihish:
       "I'll ask yeh once more."
  
  127/127 121/136 116/116 walking standing riding: none draw warsword
  You unsling a blackened serrated bone warsword from your back.
  
  127/127 121/136 116/116 walking standing riding: none l e
  l w
  To the east is a Shadowy Alleyway.
  [Near]
  A midden heap sits off to one side, stinking of decay.
  
  West of here is a Shadowy Alleyway.
  [Near]
  A midden heap sits off to one side, stinking of decay.
  
  The dirty, scar-tattooed youth steps back, clutching her black-dyed bone throwing knife.
  
  127/127 121/136 116/116 walking standing riding: none say (eyes narrowing tightly) Where. Is my sid?
  Eyes narrowing tightly, you ask, in sirihish:
       "Where. Is my sid?"
  
  The dark, green-gazed youth whispers something to the dirty, scar-tattooed youth.
  
  127/127 121/136 116/116 walking standing riding: none say (turning, swinging ~warsword in a curving arc at ~jet) Fine, yeh little rinth bastard.
  Turning, swinging your blackened serrated bone warsword in a curving arc at the dark, green-gazed youth, you say, in sirihish:
       "Fine, yeh little rinth bastard."
  
  127/127 121/136 116/116 walking standing riding: none kill jet
  You slash the dark, green-gazed youth very hard on his head.
  The dark, green-gazed youth reels from the blow.
  
  127/127 121/136 116/116 walking fighting: the dark, green-gazed youth riding: none
  
  You slash the dark, green-gazed youth's body.
  
  The dirty, scar-tattooed youth shouts, in rinthi-accented sirihish:
       "No!"
  
  The dark, green-gazed youth attempts to flee.
  The dark, green-gazed youth runs west.
  
  The dirty, scar-tattooed youth runs west.
  
  127/127 121/136 116/116 walking standing riding: none l w
  To the west is a Shadowy Alleyway.
  [Near]
  The dirty, scar-tattooed youth is standing here.
  The dark, green-gazed youth is standing here, bleeding heavily.
  A midden heap sits off to one side, stinking of decay.
  
  127/127 121/136 116/116 walking standing riding: none w
  A Shadowy Alleyway [EW]
       A narrow, small alley twines its way between small crumbling
  buildings made of mudbrick, their aging bulk casting long shadows
  across the hard-packed, sandy dirt which surfaces it.  Thick with
  shadows, it smells of decay and urine.  The quiet night air sweeps
  through its confines, brushing sand grains in a eerie rasp against
  the ancient, timeworn bricks.
       To the west, the looming mass of the outer walls of Allanak
  overshadows the broader expanse of Wall Road.
  A midden heap sits off to one side, stinking of decay.
  Some broken pipes, largely obscured by a midden heap, reveal a gaping hole.
  The dark, green-gazed youth is standing here, bleeding heavily.
  
  127/127 121/136 116/116 walking standing riding: none l w
  To the west is Wall Road.
  [Near]
  The dirty, scar-tattooed youth is standing here.
  The pale, slender slave walks along quietly here.
  The filthy little boy stands here, looking around plaintively.
  
  You hear a woman's voice shout from the west in rinthi-accented sirihish:
       "Pearl!"
  From the mouth of the alley, you see the dirty, scar-tattooed youth shouts something.
  
  127/127 121/136 116/116 walking standing riding: none shout (roaring as he walks) Where's my sid?!
  Roaring as he walks, you shout in sirihish:
       "Where's my sid?!"
  
  From the mouth of the alley, you see the dirty, scar-tattooed youth runs east.
  The dirty, scar-tattooed youth has arrived from the west.
  
  127/127 121/136 116/116 walking standing riding: none l jet (nostrils flaring)
  Nostrils flaring, you look down at the dark, green-gazed youth.
  Weathered black hair, smooth and about shoulder length is worn on this
  young boy's head with green and purple bone beads tied at the ends.  His
  bright green eyes stand out brilliantly from the contrast of his dark hair
  and deeply tanned skin.  His hands are worn and calloused and his elbows and
  knees are full of scars.  His body is hairless and skinny, bursting into
  puberty by the development of cut muscles. 
  The dark, green-gazed youth is in moderate condition.
  
  The dark, green-gazed youth is using:
  <worn in left ear>       an orange feather earring
  <worn in right ear>      an orange feather earring
  <throat>                 a jade cross tattoo
  <worn on torso>          a loose, off-white sandcloth robe
  <worn on left shoulder>  an airy knot of scarlet feathers
  <worn around wrist>      a green-dyed bone bracelet
  <worn around wrist>      an intricately etched bone bracelet
  <primary hand>           a slim bone rapier
  <secondary hand>         a chitin-decorated wooden shield
  <worn on forearms>       a set of broad, painted bone bracelets
  <worn on right finger>   a red onyx ring
  <worn on left finger>    an etched obsidian band
  <worn as belt>           a black belt
  <hung from belt>         a small bag
  <worn on legs>           a pair of black sandcloth pants
  <worn on right ankle>    a green bandana
  <worn on feet>           a pair of shiny black leather shoes
  
  He is carrying:
  nothing obvious
  
  The dirty, scar-tattooed youth begins guarding the dark, green-gazed youth.
  
  The dark, green-gazed youth sheathes a slim bone rapier.
  
  The dirty, scar-tattooed youth steps between you and the dark, green-gazed youth, clutching her knife.
  
  The dark, green-gazed youth holds his hand to his head, blood dripping down from it filling his hair.
  
  127/127 121/136 116/116 walking standing riding: none say (roaring, his chest heaving) Yeh little thieves! This is thievery! Where are my sids!
  Roaring, his chest heaving, you exclaim, in sirihish:
       "Yeh little thieves! This is thievery! Where are my sids!"
  
  The dirty, scar-tattooed youth trembles, keeping her knife pointing at you.
  
  127/127 121/136 103/116 walking standing riding: none l
  A Shadowy Alleyway [EW]
       A narrow, small alley twines its way between small crumbling
  buildings made of mudbrick, their aging bulk casting long shadows
  across the hard-packed, sandy dirt which surfaces it.  Thick with
  shadows, it smells of decay and urine.  The quiet night air sweeps
  through its confines, brushing sand grains in a eerie rasp against
  the ancient, timeworn bricks.
       To the west, the looming mass of the outer walls of Allanak
  overshadows the broader expanse of Wall Road.
  A midden heap sits off to one side, stinking of decay.
  Some broken pipes, largely obscured by a midden heap, reveal a gaping hole.
  The dirty, scar-tattooed youth is standing here.
  The dark, green-gazed youth is standing here, bleeding lightly.
  
  127/127 121/136 103/116 walking standing riding: none sheath warsword back
  You sling a bloodied serrated bone warsword across your back.
  
  As his eyes begin to glaze over, the dark, green-gazed youth says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "You hit me Xeraz."
  
  127/127 121/136 106/116 walking standing riding: none tell jet (advancing quickly) And I'll do it again if yeh don't pay up. Nobody stiffs me!
  Advancing quickly, you exclaim to the dark, green-gazed youth, in sirihish:
       "And I'll do it again if yeh don't pay up. Nobody stiffs me!"
  
  127/127 121/136 106/116 walking standing riding: none subdue jet
  The dirty, scar-tattooed youth tries to protect the dark, green-gazed youth but fails!
  [ You stop using a black crescent shield. ]
  You drop a black crescent shield.
  You subdue the dark, green-gazed youth.
  The dark, green-gazed youth stops guarding the east exit.
  
  The dirty, scar-tattooed youth takes a step or two back, eyes wide with fear.
  
  127/127 117/136 109/116 walking standing riding: none say (roaring as he slams ~jet against the alley wall) Where are my sids!
  Roaring as he slams the dark, green-gazed youth against the alley wall, you exclaim, in sirihish:
       "Where are my sids!"
  
  127/127 117/136 115/116 walking standing riding: none get shield
  You pick up a black crescent shield.
  It is very light.
  
  The dirty, scar-tattooed youth exclaims to you, in rinthi-accented sirihish:
       "Don't! Ah got 'em! Let 'im go!"
  
  127/127 117/136 115/116 walking standing riding: none say (lifting a fist threateningly) Yeh don't want to fuck with me, kids. I need that sid...I...I...need sid.
  Lifting a fist threateningly, you say, in sirihish:
       "Yeh don't want to fuck with me, kids. I need that sid...I...I...need sid."
  
  The dark, green-gazed youth kicks his feet at your groin to try and escape.
  
  The dark, green-gazed youth struggles in vain against you.
  
  Pleading, the dirty, scar-tattooed youth says to you, in rinthi-accented sirihish:
       "Ah got it. Let 'im go."
  
  The red moon, Jihae, rises over the streets of Allanak.
  
  127/127 117/136 116/116 walking standing riding: none tell dirty (clutching ^jet scruff with one hand, other fist raised) Give it to me!
  Clutching his scruff with one hand, other fist raised, you exclaim to the dirty, scar-tattooed youth, in sirihish:
       "Give it to me!"
  
  The dark, green-gazed youth struggles in vain against you.
  
  The dirty, scar-tattooed youth opens a dusty leather backpack.
  
  The dirty, scar-tattooed youth gets her small leather pouch from her dusty leather backpack.
  
  The dark, green-gazed youth struggles in vain against you.
  
  The dirty, scar-tattooed youth gets her pile of allanaki coins from her small leather pouch.
  
  127/127 117/136 116/116 walking standing riding: none em slams ~jet against the wall
  The bronzed, dark-dreadlocked man slams the dark, green-gazed youth against the wall.
  
  127/127 117/136 116/116 walking standing riding: none tell jet (eyes narrowing to slits) Quit it.
  Eyes narrowing to slits, you say to the dark, green-gazed youth, in sirihish:
       "Quit it."
  
  The dark, green-gazed youth screams as he is crushed agaisnt the wall.
  
  The dirty, scar-tattooed youth says to you, in rinthi-accented sirihish:
       "Ah... Ah dunno how much yer supposter get."
  
  The dark, green-gazed youth exclaims, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "Xeraz yer dead!"
  
  The dark, green-gazed youth struggles in vain against you.
  
  tell dirty (tone calm as he holds ~jet against the wall) Twenty-five sid.
  Crossly, the dirty, scar-tattooed youth says to the dark, green-gazed youth, in rinthi-accented sirihish:
       "Shut th' fuck up."
  
  127/127 117/136 116/116 walking standing riding: none Tone calm as he holds the dark, green-gazed youth against the wall, you say to the dirty, scar-tattooed youth, in sirihish:
       "Twenty-five sid."
  
                                                              ***
  

                                                              ***
  
  Turning his gaze sharply, you say to the dark, green-gazed youth, in sirihish:
       "Yeh watchin'? That's extra."
  
  Motioning to you, the dark, green-gazed youth says to the dirty, scar-tattooed youth, in tribal-accented sirihish:
      ...
  Continue Reading...

• 

  Zan
  Added on Apr 26, 2009

  After losing another bagful of obsidian coins, the foolish thief Zan is summoned by the Guild Boss Marin. During the meeting, Zan soon learns the punishment for his mistakes and the lack of mercy in the Guild.

  ---

  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 wiry, bald man is sitting at a boxy wooden bar.
  The light-skinned young man is sitting at a boxy wooden bar.
  A lean, grey-eyed bard leans against the stage.
  A lean, spike-haired elf drums softly in the corner.
  A tall, amber-eyed woman polishes glasses behind the boxy wooden bar.
  The husky, weatherworn dwarf is here, seated at a large table, drinking ale.
  The huge, sun-bronzed man surveys the room cThe huge, sun-bronzed man surveys the room casually from a table here.
  The bald, muscular woman slouches at a large table, drinking ale.
  The small, dark-haired man sits at a table in the back, staring into his drink.
  The solemn, club-footed man limps slowly along here.
  
  >sit round (grabbing a chair)
  Grabbing a chair, you sit at a round, blue-painted table.
  
  >l self
  Close-cut, oily black hair sticks out in jagged lengths from this short,
  skinny man's head.  His dark bushy brows hang over hazel colored eyes, a
  small nose centered in his dark skinned, youthful features.  His round ears
  stick out near the long sable sideburns that trail down his angular cheeks,
  developing into a scraggly black beard across his narrow chin, marked by
  patches of short stubble.  His neck crawls down to his narrow shoulders and
  his wiry arms are slim, with little visible muscle.  His legs are similar;
  slight and bony, like the rest of his lean body.
  The figure in a filthy dark, hooded cloak is in excellent condition.
  
  <worn on head>           an ancient, battered surmac
  <neck>                   an angular, crescent shaped scar
  <worn around body>       a filthy dark, hooded cloak
  <worn on legs>           a pair of grimy linen trousers
  <worn on feet>           a pair of dark leather footpads
  
  >contact marin
  You suffer from use of the Way.
  You contact the nappy-haired, olive-skinned man with the Way.
  
  >psi Got an update on m'situation, boss.
  You suffer from use of the Way.
  You send a telepathic message to the nappy-haired, olive-skinned man:
       "Got an update on m'situation, boss."
  
  >psi Y'spoken wit' Gin yet? Maybe y'speakin' wit' Corin right now?
  You suffer from use of the Way.
  You send a telepathic message to the nappy-haired, olive-skinned man:
       "Y'spoken wit' Gin yet? Maybe y'speakin' wit' Corin right now?"
  
  A foreign presence contacts your mind.
  
  The nappy-haired, olive-skinned man sends you a telepathic message:
       "Do you have my coin?"
  
  >psi A whore stole it from me. Workin' on gettin' it back, boss.
  You suffer from use of the Way.
  You send a telepathic message to the nappy-haired, olive-skinned man:
       "A whore stole it from me. Workin' on gettin' it back, boss."
  
  The nappy-haired, olive-skinned man sends you a telepathic message:
       "What's her name?"
  
  >psi Miranda.
  You suffer from use of the Way.
  You send a telepathic message to the nappy-haired, olive-skinned man:
       "Miranda."
  
  The nappy-haired, olive-skinned man sends you a telepathic message:
       "Good luck with that.  She might stab you in the back."
  
  You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
  
  >psi What's dat mean?
  You suffer from use of the Way.
  You send a telepathic message to the nappy-haired, olive-skinned man:
       "What's dat mean?"
  
  The light-skinned young man raises the hood of a dusty hooded, sleeveless white sandcloth cloak.
  
  The tall figure in a dusty hooded, sleeveless white sandcloth cloak stands up from a boxy wooden bar.
  
  >think Quit bein' fuckin' subtle.
  You think:
       "Quit bein' fuckin' subtle."
  
  The tall figure in a dusty hooded, sleeveless white sandcloth cloak walks north.
  
  >cease
  You suffer from use of the Way.
  You dissolve the psychic link.
  
  A foreign presence contacts your mind.
  
  The nappy-haired, olive-skinned man sends you a telepathic message:
       "I'm saying that Miranda is a whore, who's a templar's aide, and likes to stab people."
  
  >contact marin
  You suffer from use of the Way.
  You contact the nappy-haired, olive-skinned man with the Way.
  
  >psi So how y'suggest I get y'coins back from'er, boss?
  You suffer from use of the Way.
  You send a telepathic message to the nappy-haired, olive-skinned man:
       "So how y'suggest I get y'coins back from'er, boss?"
  
  The nappy-haired, olive-skinned man sends you a telepathic message:
       "How'd she steal from you?"
  
  >psi Left m'clothes in'er main room after we fucked while I's gettin' a drink, come back'n m'belt was a lot lighter.
  You suffer from use of the Way.
  You send a telepathic message to the nappy-haired, olive-skinned man:
       "Left m'clothes in'er main room after we fucked while I's gettin' a drink, come back'n m'belt was a lot lighter."
  
  The nappy-haired, olive-skinned man sends you a telepathic message:
       "How much did she charge for the fuck?"
  
  >psi Nothin'. Hence why I's call it stealin' from me.
  You suffer from use of the Way.
  You send a telepathic message to the nappy-haired, olive-skinned man:
       "Nothin'. Hence why I's call it stealin' from me."
  
  The wiry, bald man stands up from a boxy wooden bar.
  
  The wiry, bald man walks west.
  
  The nappy-haired, olive-skinned man sends you a telepathic message:
       "Get your idiot ass to the Folley."
  
  >stand
  You stand up from a round, blue-painted table.
  
  >n
  
  [Travelling to the Folley Tavern to meet with Marin]
  
  A Cramped, Dingy Bar [EWU]
     Were it not for the sheer overpowering vileness of the air outside,
  this small and tightly-cramped room would scarcely seem a breath of
  freshness at all.  Thick, acrid smoke intermingles with the smell of
  unwashed bodies, vomit, cheap booze, and ancient decay in the limited
  confines of this room, creating a unique amalgam of foulness that even the
  rough sensibilities of a dwarf would quail at.  The walls of the room are
  short and the roof is relatively low, giving one an acute claustrophobic
  feeling that mirrors the feel of the surrounding alleyways with merciless
  precision.  A few crates are stacked here and there in a seemingly haphazard
  array.  Whatever their intended purpose, it appears as though patrons have
  begun using them as seats in lieu of squatting on the ale-damp floor.  The
  center of the room draws your attention once your eyes have adjusted to the
  change in lighting and reveals a strange stoneworked depression, roughly
  three cords deep and ten cords across.  Broken stonework sculptures surround
  the edges of the depression in a seeming mockery of a gleeful dance.
  Several battered crates with a thick slab of pure obsidian draped across
  them seem to serve as a makeshift bar in a corner of the room.  An equally
  battered wooden door is situated just behind it.
     Just beside the bar, a loosely hanging rope ladder disappears up into a
  jagged hole in the ceiling of the room.
  A ladder-backed bone chair sits here.
  A ladder-backed bone chair is here standing idly near the wall.
  A message board is propped up against a wall.
  A multi-ringed dartboard hangs on a wall here.
  The nappy-haired, olive-skinned man is sitting at a sturdy old bar.
  The slim, dusky man is sitting at a sturdy old bar.
  The tall, scarlet-haired woman is sitting at a sturdy old bar.
  The lithe, dark-haired man is sitting at a sturdy old bar.
  The muscular, hatchet-faced man stands here by the door.
  The long-haired, scar faced man stands by the bar, arms over his chest.
  The thick-set, sideburned bartender is here cleaning out mugs with a rag.
  The tall and thick male wearing a thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap is standing here.
  
  The nappy-haired, olive-skinned man shakes his head a bit, looking to you.
  
  >emote walks towards ~bar with a nod to ~marin
  The short, black-haired man walks towards a sturdy old bar with a nod to the nappy-haired, olive-skinned man.
  
  >sit bar
  You sit at a sturdy old bar.
  
  At your table, the nappy-haired, olive-skinned man says in rinthi-accented sirihish:
       "Zan.  You need a new name."
  
  At your table, the tall, scarlet-haired woman says in sirihish, nodding down to you:
       "'Ey Zan."     
  
  >nod corin
  You nod to her.
  
  At your table, the slim, dusky man says in rinthi-accented sirihish, nodding to you:
       "'ello Zan."     
       
  At your table, the nappy-haired, olive-skinned man says in rinthi-accented sirihish, glancing to the lithe, dark-haired man:
       "Got an idea for a new name for Zan, Vel?"
  
  >talk (eyes rolling with a grin) Idiot fucktard face?
  At your table, you say in sirihish, eyes rolling with a grin:
       "Idiot fucktard face?"
  
  At your table, the nappy-haired, olive-skinned man says in rinthi-accented sirihish:
       "Fucktard.  That's quite a good one."
  
  At your table, the lithe, dark-haired man says in sirihish, looking to you:
       "Damn don't know if I can beat that."
  
  The slim, dusky man smirks at you.
  
  The tall, scarlet-haired woman rubs her chin thoughtfully while regarding you before cracking a faint grin.
  
  >talk (pulling a shot-glass off ~bar) I can nick a bagga coins like it weren't m'business...now...-HOLDIN'- onto dem coins...dat's m'problem.
  At your table, you say in sirihish, pulling a shot-glass off a sturdy old bar:
       "I can nick a bagga coins like it weren't m'business...now...-HOLDIN'- onto dem coins...dat's m'problem."    
      
  >keyword shot bar
  On a sturdy old bar:
    1.shot - a shot-glass
    2.shot - a shot-glass
    3.shot - a shot-glass
    4.shot - a shot-glass
    5.shot - a shot-glass
    6.shot - a shot-glass
  
  >get 6.shot bar
  You get your shot-glass from a sturdy old bar.
  It is very light, and full.
  
  >drink shot (with a grunt)
  With a grunt, you drink the whisky.
  
  >put shot bar
  You put your shot-glass onto a sturdy old bar.
  
  >emote smacks his lips together with a quenching grunt.
  The short, black-haired man smacks his lips together with a quenching grunt.
  
  At your table, the nappy-haired, olive-skinned man says in rinthi-accented sirihish:
       "Where's my hundred, then?"
  
  >get coins belt
  The belt does not contain 'coins'.
  
  >get coins pouch
  The pouch does not contain 'coins'.
  
  >get coins cloak
  You get your pile of allanaki coins from your filthy dark, hooded cloak.
  There were 55 coins.
  It is very light.
  
  You are carrying:
  55 obsidian pieces
  
  You give the nappy-haired, olive-skinned man 55 coins.
  
  At your table, the nappy-haired, olive-skinned man says in rinthi-accented sirihish:
       "What the fuck is this?"
  
  >emote rummages around %cloak pockets.
  The short, black-haired man rummages around in your filthy dark, hooded cloak's pockets.
  
  The nappy-haired, olive-skinned man puts his pile of allanaki coins into his pouched, brown hide belt.
  
  >get knife cloak
  You get your clumsy wooden knife from your filthy dark, hooded cloak.
  It is very light.
  
  >give knife marin
  You give your clumsy wooden knife to the nappy-haired, olive-skinned man.
  
  At your table, the tall, scarlet-haired woman says in sirihish, glancing from you to the nappy-haired, olive-skinned man:
       "Oh...So you're.."
  
  >get torch belt
  You get your unlit simple, leather-wrapped bone torch from your pouched belt.
  It is very light.
  
  The tall, scarlet-haired woman trails off and nods to the nappy-haired, olive-skinned man.
  
  >talk (holding ~torch in front of ~marin) Dat's all I got.
  At your table, you say in sirihish, holding your unlit simple, leather-wrapped bone torch infront of the nappy-haired, olive-skinned man:
       "Dat's all I got."
  
  The nappy-haired, olive-skinned man says to you, in rinthi-accented sirihish:
       "Alright, Zan."
  
  >give torch marin
  You give your unlit simple, leather-wrapped bone torch to the nappy-haired, olive-skinned man.
  
  The nappy-haired, olive-skinned man gives you his unlit simple, leather-wrapped bone torch.
  
  The nappy-haired, olive-skinned man stands up from a sturdy old bar.
  
  The nappy-haired, olive-skinned man says to you, in rinthi-accented sirihish:
       "Up on the Roof."
  
  The nappy-haired, olive-skinned man walks up.
  
  >stand
  You stand up from a sturdy old bar.
  
  >up
  On a Rooftop [D]
     This plain red-clay brick roof is really no more than a burned out
  second floor of what was once a taller building.  Bits of charred remains
  are obvious amongst the scattered debris and shards of rock strewn all over
  the general area.  Despite being hemmed in on three-sides by two story
  buildings, the rooftop gives a clear view down into the alleyway below.  A
  jagged hole in the southeast corner has two bone spikes driven into the
  clay, from which a rope-ladder trails downwards.
  An empty chipped, red-clay mug has been left here.
  The nappy-haired, olive-skinned man is standing here.
  
  The nappy-haired, olive-skinned man says to you, in rinthi-accented sirihish:
       "Stand still."
  
  The nappy-haired, olive-skinned man brandishes his clumsy wooden knife.
  
  >emote sighs, head held downwards with a sigh.
  The short, black-haired man sighs, head held downwards with a sigh.
  
  The nappy-haired, olive-skinned man asks you, in rinthi-accented sirihish:
       "Tell me.  How much does this hurt?"
  
  The nappy-haired, olive-skinned man stabs you very hard on your head.
  
  The nappy-haired, olive-skinned man swiftly dodges your hit.
  
  You hit the nappy-haired, olive-skinned man, barely grazing his foot.
  
  Your attack on the nappy-haired, olive-skinned man is absorbed by a bloodied padded, grey-veined black tunic.
  
  The nappy-haired, olive-skinned man swiftly dodges your hit.
  
  >disengage
  You stop attacking the nappy-haired, olive-skinned man!
  
  The nappy-haired, olive-skinned man stops fighting you.
  
  The nappy-haired, olive-skinned man stops using his bloodied clumsy wooden knife.
  
  The nappy-haired, olive-skinned man gives you his bloodied clumsy wooden knife.
  
  The nappy-haired, olive-skinned man says to you, in rinthi-accented sirihish:
       "Don't fuckin' do that."
  
  >sit (holding his bleeding head)
  Holding his bleeding head, you sit down.
  
  The nappy-haired, olive-skinned man says to you, in rinthi-accented sirihish:
       "You're lucky I missed your eye."
  
  >emote rubs at his bleeding eyebrow, wincing deeply.
  The short, black-haired man rubs at his bleeding eyebrow, wincing deeply.
  
  Exhaling slowly, the nappy-haired, olive-skinned man says to you, in rinthi-accented sirihish:
       "I trusted you, Zan.  I even gave you products to fence, to make a profit on."
  
  The nappy-haired, olive-skinned man says to you, in rinthi-accented sirihish:
       "You lost some being mugged.  You lost some to a whore."
  
  The nappy-haired, olive-skinned man says to you, in rinthi-accented sirihish:
       "The next time, I'm going to have to break one of your hands."
  
  >tell marin (hand held against his forehead, blood speeing through his fingers) Uhhh...ah...I...just fuck up bad lots.
  Hand held against his forehead, blood seeping through his fingers, you say to the nappy-haired, olive-skinned man, in sirihish:
       "Uhhh...ah...I...just fuck up bad lots."
  
  The nappy-haired, olive-skinned man nods at you.
  
  The nappy-haired, olive-skinned man licks his dried lips.
  
  The nappy-haired, olive-skinned man asks you, in rinthi-accented sirihish:
       "What the fuck am I to do with you, Zan?"
  
  The nappy-haired, olive-skinned man says to you, in rinthi-accented sirihish:
       "You're not producing."
  
  >shout (with an angry, squaky squeal) I don't know!
  With an angry, squeaky squeal, you shout in sirihish:
       "I don't know!"
  
  The nappy-haired, olive-skinned man says to you, in rinthi-accented sirihish:
       "Shut up.  Please."
  
  The nappy-haired, olive-skinned man says to you, in rinthi-accented sirihish:
       "Go get the rest of what you owe me, Zan."
  
  >stand
  You stand up.
  
  The nappy-haired, olive-skinned man says to you, in rinthi-accented sirihish:
       "We've been looking out for you, and it's not paying."
  
  >em grunts and nods.
  The short, black-haired man grunts and nods.
  
  >tell marin It will.
  You say to the nappy-haired, olive-skinned man, in sirihish:
       "It will."
  
  The nappy-haired, olive-skinned man nods at you.
  
  The nappy-haired, olive-skinned man says to you, in rinthi-accented sirihish:
       "Good."
  
  >emote grits his teeth and walks towards the stairway.
  The short, black-haired man grits his teeth and walks towards the stairway.
  
  >d (with a determined look on his dirty face)     
  

  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...
  Continue Reading...
• 

  Byn Days
  Added on May 16, 2007

  Sergeant Dryn and his Bynners head up to Tuluk for a contract. After killing three gortoks along the road, the T’zai Byn meets up with a few Kuraci and tension grows between the two units.

  ---

  North Road [NEW]
   The stark white of this wide stone road lies across these scrub
  forests like the spine of some gargantuan carcass. Blowing, gritty dusts
  cover the road in some places, and pech grasses have, here and there, taken
  root in and among the flagstones. This pale backbone of a road lies across
  these lands in a long and twisting fashion, following the southern border of
  the Grey Forest.
   Far to the north lies the dim and shadowy blotch on the horizon which
  marks the Grey Forest, while to the south stretches the vast sweep of the
  scrub plains. A tangle of thorny bush to the south borders the road.
  The lean, scar-faced woman has arrived from the west, riding an erdlu.
  The pockmarked, balding man has arrived from the west, riding a yellow kank.
  The thrice-braided, green-eyed man has arrived from the west, riding a yellow kank.
  The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man has arrived from the west, riding a yellow kank.
  The reddish-eyed, coppery mul has arrived from the west, riding a yellow kank.

  To the east is North Road.
  [Very far]
  Nothing.
  [Far]
  A kank stands here, its yellow shell mottled with dust.
  The very short figure in a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak is standing here.
  The short figure in a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak is standing here.
  A yellow kank stands here, carrying the very short figure in a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak on his back.
  A grey kank stands here, vigorously waving its pinchers.
  [Near]
  Nothing.

  To the north is Scrub Plains.
  [Very far]
  Nothing.
  [Far]
  Nothing.
  [Near]
  Nothing.

  The lean, scar-faced woman intently scans the area.

  Gruffly, the hawk-nosed, raven-haired man says, in southern-accented sirihish:
       "Kuraci. "

  Peering down the road, you say, in sirihish:
       "Hmm. . . "

  North Road [NEW]
   The stark white of this wide stone road lies across these scrub
  forests like the spine of some gargantuan carcass. Blowing, gritty dusts
  cover the road in some places, and pech grasses have, here and there, taken
  root in and among the flagstones. This pale backbone of a road lies across
  these lands in a long and twisting fashion, following the southern border of
  the Grey Forest.
   Far to the north lies the dim and shadowy blotch on the horizon which
  marks the Grey Forest, while to the south stretches the vast sweep of the
  scrub plains. A tangle of thorny bush to the south borders the road.
  The lean, scar-faced woman has arrived from the west, riding an erdlu.
  The pockmarked, balding man has arrived from the west, riding a yellow kank.
  The reddish-eyed, coppery mul has arrived from the west, riding a yellow kank.

  The thrice-braided, green-eyed man has arrived from the west, riding a yellow kank.
  The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man has arrived from the west, riding a yellow kank.

  You shout in sirihish:
       "Byn comin'!"

  East of here is North Road.
  [Very far]
  Nothing.
  [Far]
  Nothing.
  [Near]
  A yellow kank stands here, carrying the very short figure in a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak on his back.
  The short figure in a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak is standing here.
  A yellow kank stands here, carrying the very short figure in a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak on his back.
  A grey kank stands here, vigorously waving its pinchers.

  North Road [NEW]
   The stark white of this wide stone road lies across these scrub
  forests like the spine of some gargantuan carcass. Blowing, gritty dusts
  cover the road in some places, and pech grasses have, here and there, taken
  root in and among the flagstones. This pale backbone of a road lies across
  these lands in a long and twisting fashion, following the southern border of
  the Grey Forest.
   Far to the north lies the dim and shadowy blotch on the horizon which
  marks the Grey Forest, while to the south stretches the vast sweep of the
  scrub plains. A tangle of thorny bush to the south borders the road.
  A long-handled axe, used for chopping lumber, lies here.
  A sweat-stained heap of soft carru leather has been left in a pile here.
  A dusty helm made of durrit hide lays here.
  A bloodied duskhorn leather tunic lies here.
  A tembo hide belt lies coiled on the ground.
  An used circular shield of round, knobby chitin has been left here.
  A bloodied helm made from a large skull lies here, horns sprouting from the top.
  A set of leg guards made from a spiky exoskeleton lies here.
  A pair of spike-toed leather boots have been left here
  A pair of duskhorn gauntlets covered in small spikes, lies on the ground.
  A pair of armguards, lined with rows of gith teeth, lies here.
  A dusty battle-axe of thick, skull-carved bone lays here on its side.
  A very dim long agafari stick wrapped in oiled rags has been left here.
  A couple of black epaulettes with one grey shield are here.
  A dusty massive battle axe of carved thuja and heavy bone sits here, unused.
  A belt formed from thick brown leather lies here.
  A dusty backpack of worn carru hide has been set down here.
  A red and white belt lies here
  A couple of gurth shell collars are here.
  A dusty rough canvas backpack lies here.
  An used bloodied armored jacket fashioned from stiff leather and strips of chitin lies here.
  A new bloodied armored jacket fashioned from stiff leather and strips of chitin lies here.
  A dusty gurth shell helmet lies here.
  A pair of leather leggings plated with gurth shell lies here.
  A dusty set of flared leather boots sits here without a pair of feet.
  A dusty pair of leather gloves backed with gurth shell lies here.
  A pair of leather sleeves plated with gurth shell lies here.
  A dusty small dagger with a thin blade and a hooked hilt sits here.
  A tooled leather swordbelt lies coiled here.
  A chunky wristguard, made of scrab shell, lies here.
  A gurth shell bracer lies here.
  A dusty bone rapier with a rib-like hilt lies here.
  An orange piece of cloth lies here, cut into a small epaulette.
  A dusty orange piece of cloth lies here, cut into a small epaulette.
  An ashen large wooden torch lies here.
  A yellow kank stands here, carrying the very short figure in a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak on his back.
  The short figure in a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak is standing here.
  A yellow kank stands here, carrying the very short figure in a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak on his back.
  A grey kank stands here, vigorously waving its pinchers.
  The lean, scar-faced woman has arrived from the west, riding an erdlu.
  The pockmarked, balding man has arrived from the west, riding a yellow kank.
  The reddish-eyed, coppery mul has arrived from the west, riding a yellow kank.

  The very short figure in a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak swings her legs to the side and dismounts. 

  The thrice-braided, green-eyed man has arrived from the west, riding a yellow kank.

  The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man has arrived from the west, riding a yellow kank.

  The short figure in a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak looks at the reddish-eyed, coppery mul as she pulls down her hood.

  The slight, desert-hued half-elf lowers the hood of a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak.

  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:
  <worn on head> a wide-rimmed brown hat
  <worn on face> a pair of polished bone sunslits
  <worn in left ear> a red feather earring
  <worn in right ear>a hooked fang
  <worn around neck> a spiked duskhorn collar
  <worn about throat>an agate and raptor-bone necklac
  <slung across back>a tortoiseshell-capped, thornwood longbow
  <worn across back> a new round black shield
  <worn on right shoulder> a shoulder patch with a dun colored eclipsed moon
  <worn on left shoulder>a coil of numut-woven rope
  <worn on arms> a pair of desert-camouflaged, sandcloth sleeves
  <worn around wrist>a small black leather armsheath
  <worn around wrist>a bone-spiked, black-leather bracer
  <worn on hands>a bloodied pair of desert-camouflaged, sandcloth gloves
  <primary hand> a double-headed burr flail
  <secondary hand> a well-balanced, curved bone halfblade
  <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

  The very short figure in a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak remains on his kank, eyeingthe group of brown aba'd riders.

  The black-striped dusky male dwarf lowers the hood of a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak.

  The lean, scar-faced woman says, in southern-accented sirihish:
       "Shit. .  Look at this gear. .  What the fuck. . "

  Sparing a glance up, then back to the road, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "Thanks for ridin' over any tracks, Byn. "

  Riding up alongside her with a nod, you say to the slight, desert-hued half-elf, in sirihish:
       "Sergeant Sha. . . "

  Glaring around slowly, you ask the slight, desert-hued half-elf, in sirihish:
       "What the fuck happened here?"

  The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man looks down at the slight, desert-hued half-elf with a tilt of his head.

  The dusky, raven-haired man glances at the clothing and gear on the ground, brows furrowing.

  In a worn, carru-hide pack (here) :
  a dusty braxat hide collar
  a dusty elven maar shortbow
  a coil of narrow cactus
  a dusty squat bulbous gourd
  a pile of coins
  a grey fighting claw
  a scaly maroon hide
  a long strip of tough, grey chitin
  a couple of bright red fruits
  an unlit large wooden torch
  a slender wooden spear
  an unlit simple, leather-wrapped bone torch
  an empty sunstar-flower
  a bone spiked sunstar
  a dusty obsidian-tipped spear
  a few tough slabs of dark red meat
  some hunks of red-streaked meat
  a couple of strips of dark-red meat
  a side of whitish meat
  a small portion of a side of whitish meat

  The mohawked, scar-faced girl lowers the hood of a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak.

  In a rough canvas backpack (here) :
  a dusty pair of long, carved lip-tusks
  a couple of durrit-claw bracers
  a dusty hooded, bamuk-hide cloak
  a dusty set of anakore-clawed climbing gloves
  a new bloodied pair of carru leather sleeves
  a dusty black mandible-bladed scimitar
  a dusty black mandible-headed spear
  a long-handled, flint lumber axe
  a few long agafari branches
  a thick branch of baobab

  A yellow kank leisurely waves its antennae about.

  The sun reaches its highest point in the sky.

  The black-striped dusky male dwarf looks up at the reddish-eyed, coppery mul with a glance over the group.

  Mildly, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "Your guess is as good as mine. .  though we just killed a five-pack of 'tok. "

  The thrice-braided, green-eyed man remains silent as he angles a yellow kank up to the scene.

  The slight, desert-hued half-elf slings two steel-grey cloaks over her shoulder, then re-grips her double-headed burr flail.

  Nodding his head a few times with a grunt, you say to the slight, desert-hued half-elf, in sirihish:
       "We killed six back along the road. . . "

  A yellow kank rubs its mandibles together.

  The slight, desert-hued half-elf asks you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "Bad time to be out here, 'en. Contracting up northside?"

  A very dim rag-wrapped agafari torch goes out.

  Grunting, the hawk-nosed, raven-haired man says, in southern-accented sirihish:
       "Aye, lucky the Byn's 'ere t'keep the roads nice 'nd safe fer Kuraci. "

  The slight, desert-hued half-elf looks up at the hawk-nosed, raven-haired man with narrowed eyes.

  The slight, desert-hued half-elf says to the hawk-nosed, raven-haired man, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "Spare me, asshole. "

  The thrice-braided, green-eyed man snickers.

  Nodding his head as he points your heavy, broad-bladed battle scimitar forwards, you say to the slight, desert-hued

  half-elf, in sirihish:
       "We found some breed 'gicker. . . tried puttin' a spell on us. . . fled off somewhere. "

  The athletic, white-haired man has arrived from the east, riding a saffron-colored kank.

  Shaking her head, the lean, scar-faced woman asks the slight, desert-hued half-elf, in southern-accented sirihish:
       "What’s with the gear, up for grabs?"

  The black-striped dusky male dwarf looks up at the athletic, white-haired man with a quick look.

  To the west is North Road.
  [Very far]
  Nothing.
  [Far]
  Nothing.
  [Near]
  Nothing.
   
  The black-striped dusky male dwarf says to the athletic, white-haired man, in southern-accented sirihish:
       "Salarri. "

  To the east is North Road.
  [Very far]
  Nothing.
  [Far]
  Nothing.
  [Near]
  Nothing.

  Resting her heavy axe over one small shoulder, the mohawked, scar-faced girl says, in southern-accented sirihish:
       "Folk all over the road today. "

  Frowning, as he peers about the ground, the athletic, white-haired man asks, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "Where is the cloak?"

  Riding up beside you and speaking quietly, the hawk-nosed, raven-haired man whispers to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
       "That's the one there that seemed t'think people only join Kurac 'cause they love it. "

  You nod to him.

  North of here are Scrub Plains.
  [Very far]
  Nothing.
  [Far]
  Nothing.
  [Near]
  Nothing.

  Turning slowly to face you, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "I see you have a few discipline problems, Sergeant. "

  The athletic, white-haired man swings his legs to the side and dismounts.

  Glaring around slowly, you ask the slight, desert-hued half-elf, in sirihish:
       "Where?"

  The athletic, white-haired man picks up a black epaulette with one grey shield.

  The athletic, white-haired man picks up a black epaulette with one grey shield.

  A foreign presence contacts your mind.

  The athletic, white-haired man picks up an orange cloth epaulette.

  The athletic, white-haired man picks up a dusty orange cloth epaulette.

  The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man sends you a telepathic message:
      "Let's just kill her. "
   
  You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.

  You think:
      “The Lieutenant’d rip me a second asshole, but I bet that breed’d look better dead.”

  The lean, scar-faced woman glances down over the mass amount of weapons and arms strewn over the road.

  The mohawked, scar-faced girl looks up at the athletic, white-haired man with a glance.

  Smirking and pointing down to the gear lain across the ground, you say, in sirihish:
      “Byn, take what yeh want. ”

  The black-striped dusky male dwarf watches the athletic, white-haired man.

  The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man swings his legs to the side and dismounts.

  The slight, desert-hued half-elf looks at the athletic, white-haired man with narrow eyes.

  The black-striped dusky male dwarf cuts his glare to you.

  Flopping off his kank, the hawk-nosed, raven-haired man exclaims, in southern-accented sirihish:
       "All righ' then!"

  The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man picks up an used gurth-shell round shield.

  The lean, scar-faced woman swings her legs to the side and dismounts.

  The slight, desert-hued half-elf says to the athletic, white-haired man, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "Ah. "

  The pockmarked, balding man swings his legs to the side and dismounts.

  The athletic, white-haired man jumps up onto a saffron-colored kank's back.

  The slight, desert-hued half-elf says to the athletic, white-haired man, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "Here. "

  Eyeing the ground, the hawk-nosed, raven-haired man says, in southern-accented sirihish:
       "Some nice shit 'ere. "

  North Road [NEW]
   The stark white of this wide stone road lies across these scrub
  forests like the spine of some gargantuan carcass. Blowing, gritty dusts
  cover the road in some places, and pech grasses have, here and there, taken
  root in and among the flagstones. This pale backbone of a road lies across
  these lands in a long and twisting fashion, following the southern border of
  the Grey Forest.
   Far to the north lies the dim and shadowy blotch on the horizon which
  marks the Grey Forest, while to the south stretches the vast sweep of the
  scrub plains. A tangle of thorny bush to the south borders the road.
  A long-handled axe, used for chopping lumber, lies here.
  A sweat-stained heap of soft carru leather has been left in a pile here.
  A dusty helm made of durrit hide lays here.
  A bloodied duskhorn leather tunic lies here.
  A tembo hide belt lies coiled on the ground.
  A bloodied helm made from a large skull lies here, horns sprouting from the top.
  A set of leg guards made from a spiky exoskeleton lies here.
  A pair of spike-toed leather boots have been left here
  A pair of duskhorn gauntlets covered in small spikes, lies on the ground.
  A pair of armguards, lined with rows of gith teeth, lies here.
  A dusty battle-axe of thick, skull-carved bone lays here on its side.
  An ashen long agafari stick wrapped in oiled rags has been left here.
  A dusty massive battle axe of carved thuja and heavy bone sits here, unused.
  A belt formed from thick brown leather lies here.
  A dusty backpack of worn carru hide has been set down here.
  A red and white belt lies here
  A couple of gurth shell collars are here.
  A dusty rough canvas backpack lies here.
  An used bloodied armored jacket fashioned from stiff leather and strips of chitin lies here.
  A new bloodied armored jacket fashioned from stiff leather and strips of chitin lies here.
  A dusty gurth shell helmet lies here.
  A pair of leather leggings plated with gurth shell lies here.
  A dusty set of flared leather boots sits here without a pair of feet.
  A dusty pair of leather gloves backed with gurth shell lies here.
  A pair of leather sleeves plated with gurth shell lies here.
  A dusty small dagger with a thin blade and a hooked hilt sits here.
  A tooled leather swordbelt lies coiled here.
  A chunky wristguard, made of scrab shell, lies here.
  A gurth shell bracer lies here.
  A dusty bone rapier with a rib-like hilt lies here.
  An ashen large wooden torch lies here.
  A saffron-colored kank stands here, carrying the athletic, white-haired man on his back.
  A kank stands here, its yellow shell mottled with dust.
  The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man is standing here, appearing very tired.
  A yellow kank stands here, carrying the thrice-braided, green-eyed man on his back.
  A yellow kank stands here, carrying the reddish-eyed, coppery mul on his back.
  A kank stands here, its yellow shell mottled with dust.
  The pockmarked, balding man is standing here.
  A large and grey-scaled flightless bird stands here.
  The lean, scar-faced woman is standing here.
  A yellow kank stands here, carrying the black-striped dusky male dwarf on his back.
  The slight, desert-hued half-elf is standing here.
  A large yellow kank stands here, its chitinous shell covered in dust.
  The mohawked, scar-faced girl is standing here.
  A grey kank stands here, vigorously waving its pinchers.

  The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man picks up a gurth shell collar.

  The pockmarked, balding man picks up an used bloodied chitin and leather jacket.

  The lean, scar-faced woman picks up a dusty bone parrying dagger.

  The slight, desert-hued half-elf slings two cloaks down from her shoulder.

  The pockmarked, balding man picks up a pair of gurth shell and leather sleeves.

  The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man picks up a gurth shell collar.

  The slight, desert-hued half-elf gives a dusty black leather and steel-grey sandcloth greatcloak to the athletic,

  white-haired man.

  The slight, desert-hued half-elf gives a dusty black leather and steel-grey sandcloth greatcloak to the athletic,

  white-haired man.

  The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man puts a gurth shell collar inside a plain bag of cloth.

  The dusky, raven-haired man nods as his gaze turns across the ground slowly.

  The lean, scar-faced woman picks up a dusty thick, durrit-hide helm.

  The black-striped dusky male dwarf says, in southern-accented sirihish:
       "What the feck, taht's salarr gear. "

  The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man puts a gurth shell collar inside a plain bag of cloth.

  The short female wearing a dusty desert-camouflaged sandcloth facewrap has arrived from the east, riding a saffron-colored

  kank.

  The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man picks up a dusty gurth shell helmet.

  The rangy, silver-eyed woman stops using a dusty desert-camouflaged sandcloth facewrap.

  The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man puts a dusty gurth shell helmet inside a plain bag of cloth.

  You say to the black-striped dusky male dwarf, in sirihish:
       "Not anymore."

  The woman before you has a lusterous, bright silver gaze that almost
  seems to shine.  Her pupils and the color that surrounds her iris are a
  slighty darker hue, and thick black lashes line her eyes giving her a smoky
  gaze.  Her hair is the pitch black of midnight, that like her eyes seems to
  have some luster to it.  It is cut sleekly in a diagonal line, but despite
  the eveness of the cut, her hair remains a bit untamed and disheveled.  Her
  frame is a bit lanky but toned by sinewy muscle.  Various scars mark her
  sun-bronzed complexion, some old markings faint and healed, while other
  scrapes and wounds freshly scabbed continue to heal.  Her features are
  generally smooth and angular despite her rugged appearance.
  The rangy, silver-eyed woman is in excellent condition.

  The rangy, silver-eyed woman is using:
  <worn on head> a dusty desert-camouflaged, sandcloth-covered cap
  <worn in hair> a dusty set of feather-tipped leather cords
  <worn in left ear> a dusty striped bone loop
  <worn in right ear>a dusty blue beaded bone loop
  <worn around neck> a dusty desert-camouflaged, sandcloth-covered collar
  <worn about throat>a dusty star-shaped obsidian pendant
  <worn across back> a dusty bone-studded backpack
  <worn on arms> a pair of leather-reinforced sandcloth sleeves
  <worn around wrist>a durrit-claw bracer
  <worn around wrist>a durrit-claw bracer
  <worn on hands>a dusty pair of spiked duskhorn gauntlets
  <primary hand> a dusty wicked-edged, bone scimitar
  <secondary hand> a dusty curved, mantis-carved obsidian scimitar
  <worn on forearms> a dusty set of feather-tipped leather cords
  <worn around body> a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak
  <worn on legs> a leather-reinforced sandcloth skirt
  <worn on right ankle>a dusty ball-tufted tail
  <worn on left ankle> a dusty ball-tufted tail
  <worn on feet> a dusty pair of sturdy sandcloth and leather boots

  The pockmarked, balding man picks up a tan, yellow-striped tembo-hide belt.

  The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man picks up a pair of gurth shell and leather leggings.

  Simply, the athletic, white-haired man says to the slight, desert-hued half-elf, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "Yes. "

  The pockmarked, balding man picks up a thick leather belt.

  The lean, scar-faced woman picks up a gurth shell bracer.

  Looking over to you, the rangy, silver-eyed woman asks, in southern-accented sirihish:
       "The drov?"

  The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man puts a pair of gurth shell and leather leggings inside a plain bag of cloth.

  The slight, desert-hued half-elf says to the athletic, white-haired man, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "Apparently, these T'zai Byn don't have many manners. . "

  The pockmarked, balding man picks up a snug, red and white silk belt.

  The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man picks up a bloodied sueded duskhorn leather tunic.

  The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man picks up a pair of spiked duskhorn gauntlets.

  The black-striped dusky male dwarf clenches his shield and glowers at the group of brown aba'd scavengers.

  The lean, scar-faced woman brandishes a leaf-carved bone shortsword.

  Rubbing at her scalp, the mohawked, scar-faced girl whispers something to the black-striped dusky male dwarf.

  The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man stops using a dusty pair of fingerless sandcloth gloves.

  The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man pulls a pair of spiked duskhorn gauntlets onto his hands.

  The thrice-braided, green-eyed man remains mounted, his mouth twisted as he watches the scene.

  Smirking, the hawk-nosed, raven-haired man says, in southern-accented sirihish:
       "Damn, this shit's lookin' good on me. "

  The lean, scar-faced woman sheathes a leaf-carved bone shortsword.

  The lean, scar-faced woman picks up a dusty rough canvas backpack.

  The thrice-braided, green-eyed man swings his legs to the side and dismounts.

  The thrice-braided, green-eyed man picks up a dusty rib-hilted bone rapier.

  The black-striped dusky male dwarf swings his legs to the side and dismounts.

  The black-striped dusky male dwarf strides over to the slight, desert-hued half-elf.

  Patting your blackened serrated bone warsword against a rusty brown kank's side a few times, you say to the slight,

  desert-hued half-elf, in sirihish:
       "No need for cryin’, Sergeant, we're just cleanin' the roads for yeh lovely Kuracis. "

  A grey kank rubs its mandibles together.

  Flicking his reins, the athletic, white-haired man says, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "Anything with the Salarri insignia, drop it off at the estate. "

  The pockmarked, balding man picks up a dusty worn, carru-hide pack.

  The lean, scar-faced woman fastens a gurth shell bracer around her wrist.

  The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man jumps up onto a yellow kank's back.

  To the west is North Road.
  [Very far]
  Nothing.
  [Far]
  Nothing.
  [Near]
  Nothing.

  To the east is North Road.
  [Very far]
  Nothing.

  [Far]
  Nothing.

  [Near]
  Nothing.

  The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man unstraps a dusty yellow-embroidered canvas backpack from a yellow kank's back.

  The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man swings his legs to the side and dismounts.

  The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man wears a dusty yellow-embroidered canvas backpack on his back, covering jagged whip scars. 

  The pockmarked, balding man jumps up onto a yellow kank's back.

  The pockmarked, balding man straps a dusty worn, carru-hide pack to a yellow kank's back.

  Glancing around with a grunt, you ask, in sirihish:
       "Yeh get 'nuff, Fists?"

  Looking down at the pile of remains, the athletic, white-haired man says, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "Anything else, it is yours. "

  The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man removes a bloodied carru-leather jacket.

  The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man puts a bloodied carru-leather jacket inside a dusty yellow-embroidered canvas backpack.

  The lean, scar-faced woman picks up a long-handled, flint lumber axe. 

  The pockmarked, balding man opens a snug, red and white silk belt. 

  Looking up, the slight, desert-hued half-elf says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "Hardly necessary. "

  The black-striped dusky male dwarf whispers something to the slight, desert-hued half-elf.

  The lean, scar-faced woman drops a long-handled, flint lumber axe. 

  The thrice-braided, green-eyed man jumps up onto a yellow kank's back. 

  You think:
      “The mul could probably snap off half these Kuraci’s heads ‘fore they got a word in.”

  The slight, desert-hued half-elf jumps up onto a grey kank's back. 

  The lean, scar-faced woman picks up a dusty skull-carved, broad bone battle-axe. 

  The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man removes a dusty dusky chitin neck-guard.

  You think:
      “All us’d snap their necks off quicker’n a Whiran fartin’ in the wind.”

  The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man puts a dusty dusky chitin neck-guard inside a dusty yellow-embroidered canvas backpack. 

  The pockmarked, balding man straps on a snug, red and white silk belt as a belt. 

  A saffron-colored kank walks east, carrying the athletic, white-haired man on his back.

  The mohawked, scar-faced girl jumps up onto a yellow kank's back. 

  The slight, desert-hued half-elf sweeps a palm upward, turning a grey kank around. 

  The rangy, silver-eyed woman purses her lips looking over the mess on the roamd then lifts her hands to scure her dusty

  desert-camouflaged sandcloth facewrap back on her face. 

  The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man puts a dusty pair of fingerless sandcloth gloves inside a dusty yellow-embroidered canvas

  backpack. 

  The pockmarked, balding man opens a small pack. 

  The black-striped dusky male dwarf jumps up onto a yellow kank's back. 

  The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man gets a dusty dusky chitin neck-guard from a dusty yellow-embroidered canvas backpack.

  The pockmarked, balding man puts a thick leather belt inside a small pack. 

  The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man bows his head, placing a dusty dusky chitin neck-guard about his neck.

  The pockmarked, balding man puts a tan, yellow-striped tembo-hide belt inside a small pack.

  The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man puts a bloodied sueded duskhorn leather tunic inside a dusty yellow-embroidered canvas

  backpack.

  The lean, scar-faced woman holds a dusty leather-banded chitin shield.

  Swinging your blackened serrated bone warsword forwards and smiling, you exclaim, in sirihish:
       "A'right, Fists, let's head on!"

  The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man picks up a new bloodied chitin and leather jacket. 

  The pockmarked, balding man fits a pair of gurth shell and leather sleeves on his arms.

  The black-striped dusky male dwarf glowers at the Byn as he rides on.

  A rusty brown kank leisurely waves its antennae about.

  North Road [EW]
   The stark white of this wide stone road lies across these scrub
  forests like the spine of some gargantuan carcass. Blowing, gritty dusts
  cover the road in some places, and pech grasses have, here and there, taken
  root in and among the flagstones. This pale backbone of a road lies across
  these lands in a long and twisting fashion, following the southern border of
  the Grey Forest.
   Far to the north lies the dim and shadowy blotch on the horizon which
  marks the Grey Forest, while to the south stretches the vast sweep of the
  scrub plains. Dense tangles of thorny, impassable bushes border the road to
  the north and south.
  A few disembodied heads of a gortok are here.
  A few piles of assorted canine bones are here.
  The lean, scar-faced woman has arrived from the west.
  An erdlu has arrived from the west.
  The pockmarked, balding man has arrived from the west, riding a yellow kank.
  The reddish-eyed, coppery mul has arrived from the west, riding a yellow kank.

  To the west is North Road.
  [Very far]
  Nothing.
  [Far]
  Nothing.
  [Near]
  A saffron-colored kank stands here, carrying the rangy, silver-eyed woman on his back.
  A yellow kank stands here, carrying the hawk-nosed, raven-haired man on his back.
  A yellow kank stands here, carrying the thrice-braided, green-eyed man on his back.
  A yellow kank stands here, carrying the black-striped dusky male dwarf on his back.
  A yellow kank stands here, carrying the mohawked, scar-faced girl on his back.
  A grey kank stands here, carrying the slight, desert-hued half-elf on his back. 
  The hawk-nosed, raven-haired man has arrived from the west, riding a yellow kank. 

  The lean, scar-faced woman jumps up onto an erdlu's back.

  The lean, scar-faced woman stops using a leaf-carved bone shortsword.

  To the west is North Road.
  [Very far]
  Nothing.
  [Far]
  Nothing.
  [Near]
  A saffron-colored kank stands here, carrying the short female wearing a dusty desert-camouflaged sandcloth facewrap on his

  back.
  A yellow kank stands here, carrying the thrice-braided, green-eyed man on his back.
  A yellow kank stands here, carrying the black-striped dusky male dwarf on his back.
  A yellow kank stands here, carrying the mohawked, scar-faced girl on his back.
  A grey kank stands here, carrying the slight, desert-hued half-elf on his back.

  The pockmarked, balding man gets a pile of allanaki coins from a snug, red and white silk belt. 

  The pockmarked, balding man gets a pile of coins from a snug, red and white silk belt.

  The reddish-eyed, coppery mul asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
       "Get some nice gear sir?"

  The pockmarked, balding man puts a pile of allanaki coins inside a snug, red and white silk belt.

  Shaking his head, you say to the reddish-eyed, coppery mul, in sirihish:
       "Nope. "

  The pockmarked, balding man closes a snug, red and white silk belt.

  You think:
       “Bunch of fuckin’ greedy, two-bit mercenaries…gotta love’m.”

  The dusky, raven-haired man sighs as he rides along on his rusty brown kank.

  
   

  North Road [NEW]
   The stark white of this wide stone road lies across these scrub
  forests like the spine of some gargantuan carcass. Blowing, gritty dusts
  cover the road in some places, and pech grasses have, here and there, taken
  root in and among the flagstones. This pale backbone of a road lies...

  
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• 

  The Tale of Cuff the Dwarf
  Added on Oct 29, 2006

  This is story of Cuff, a stupid and nasty dwarf to the very end.

  ---

   

  There once was a dwarf named Cuff, who thought there was no one more buff.

  Although real good with a sword, Cuff's head was as thick as a board.

  One day while hunting around, an elf, real tall, he found.

  Grunting real hard, Cuff said: "Th'feck ye doin'ere, point-head?"

   

  The elf just laughed and replied: "Hunting for strong, dwarf hide."

  Thinking the matter right through, Cuff's mighty anger grew.

  Instead of just leaving real quickly, Cuff made the problem more sticky.

  The elf smiled while raising his spear, as Cuff the dwarf came near.

   

  "Time t'die ye stupid fecker", said Cuff as he charged the necker.

  But the elf was rather quite fast, and Cuff just trundled right past.

  Cuff decided to run at him back, but the elf kicked him right in the sack.

  Moaning, Cuff did go down, with a purely painful frown.

   

  As the elf leaned over with a grin, Cuff cut him right in the shin.

  So both were down on the floor, groaning, moaning and more.

  Now elf and dwarf were grudging, but along came a half-giant, trudging.

  As the giant looked dumbly around, he asked: "Why both on da ground?"

   

  Neither spoke; hurt bad… the giant soon grew mad.

  He crushed them both on the spot, but didn't leave him to rot.

  Instead he got from this deal, an elf and a dwarf as a meal.

  This is the end of our Cuff, who's now mostly mushy and stuff.

   

  So if you don't want to end up food, act smart and don't be rude.

  And if you run into an elf, just run and save yourself.

   

   

   

  There once was a dwarf named Cuff, who thought there was no one more buff.

  Although real good with a sword, Cuff's head was as thick as a board.

  One day while hunting around, an elf, real tall, he found.

  Grunting real hard, Cuff said: "Th'feck ye doin'ere, point-head?"

   

  The elf just...

  
  Continue Reading...
• 

  Singin' in the Shade
  Added on Oct 28, 2006

  A lively street stong by an unknown Tuluki bard.

  ---

   

  Singin' in the shade, the skies begin to fade,
  My day's already made, cause I'm singin' in the shade.

  
  When times get tough, I'll sing some stuff,
  Singin' in the shade, 'till they've had enough.
  They'll all clap along, while I sing my song,
  Singin' in the shade, nothing can be wrong.
  
  Singin' in the shade, the skies begin to fade,
  My day's already made, cause I'm singin' in the shade.
  
  Strumming every string, we'll all begin to sing,
  Singin' in the shade, for the great Sun King.
  Sing from night 'till day, I'll just sing away,
  Singin' in the shade, what do ya say? I'll say…
  
  Singin' in the shade, the skies begin to fade,
  My day's already made, cause I'm singin' in the shade.
  
  If times get real bad, just don't get mad,
  Singin' in the shade, good times to be had.
  Where ya might just be, sing along with me,
  We're singin in the shade, music is the key.
  
  We're singin' in the shade, the skies begin to fade,
  Our day's already made, and we're singin' in the shade.
  
  We're singin' in the shade…
  Just singin' in the shade…
  Singin' in the shade.
  

   

  Singin' in the shade, the skies begin to fade,
  My day's already made, cause I'm singin' in the shade.

  
  When times get tough, I'll sing some stuff,
  Singin' in the shade, 'till they've had enough.
  They'll all clap along, while I sing my song,
  Singin' in the shade, nothing can be wrong.
  
  Singin' in...

  
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• 

  Lost in the Stinging Sands
  Added on Oct 28, 2006

  A sad song about a lost, dying hunter by an unknown Tuluki bard.

  ---

  
  There's a place, not far away, the sun, the moon, a quiet place...
  Why can't I get there, to this place, the sun, the moon, a quiet place?
  
  Lost in all the stinging sands...
  Lost in all the stinging sands.
  
  The winds pick up, sand all around, the hot, the dry and swirling sands…
  Why can't I get there, to this place, the sun, the moon, a quiet place?
  
  Lost in all the stinging sands...
  Lost in all the stinging sands.
  
  Time goes by, but sands still fly, now blind, now lost, I cannot see…
  Why can't I get there, to this place, the sun, the moon, a quiet place?
  
  Lost in all the stinging sands...
  Lost in all the stinging sands.
  
  Now it's dark, it's hard to breathe, the pain, the thirst, there's nothing
  left…
  Why can't I get there, to this place, the sun, the moon, a quiet place?
  
  Lost in all the stinging sands...
  Lost in all the stinging sands.
  
  There's a place, not far away, the sun, the moon, a quiet place…
  Why can't I get there, to this place, the sun, the moon, a quiet place?
  
  Lost in the stinging sands…
  Forever in the stinging sands.
  

  
  There's a place, not far away, the sun, the moon, a quiet place...
  Why can't I get there, to this place, the sun, the moon, a quiet place?
  

  
  Continue Reading...