Original Submissions by Tarimad of type 'Logs'

• 

  The Fortune Teller
  Added on Apr 15, 2008

  Two old elves take a glimpse into the future.

  ---

  The scene begins in a seedy tavern, somewhere in the ‘Rinth…

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf asks the tiny-headed half-giant, in sirihish:

  "Hey, you got any spice, ya lazy feck?"

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf coughs.

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf eats a portion of a serving of strewn moss pasta.

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf eats a half eaten serving of strewn moss pasta.

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf says to the tiny-headed half-giant, in sirihish:

  "Well let me know if you find any."

   

  The stooped, scar-torn elf continues shuffling your deck of Kruth cards, the worn vellum slips slapping against each other rhythmically.

   

  You think:

  "Hmm."

   

  In a casual tone, spreading a few Kruth cards over his knuckles in a fan-shape, you say to the sharp-chinned, braided elf, in sirihish:

  "You know, they sell it in the backroom of this place. Ain't no big secret."

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf's eyes close in concentration for a moment. They open suddenly.

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf glances at you with a start.

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf asks you, in sirihish:

  "No shit? And just anyone can get it?"

   

  The stooped, scar-torn elf returns a few Kruth cards to the deck with a faint snap.

   

  You begin speaking allundean.

   

  Slipping fluently into another tongue, you say to the sharp-chinned, braided elf, in allundean:

  "Aye. It's pricey, but, if'n you're desperate..."

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf nods at you.

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf says, in sirihish:

  "I hear you."

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf stands up from a scarred, round table.

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf says to you, in sirihish:

  "Pardon me for a moment."

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf asks the grey-clad elf a question.

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf haggles with the grey-clad elf for a moment.

   

  The stooped, scar-torn elf nods cordially towards the sharp-chinned, braided elf before returning his attention to your deck of Kruth cards.

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf turns back to you.

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf asks you, in sirihish:

  "Fecker says I'm too poor. How much do they charge, usually?"

   

  Not looking up from your deck of Kruth cards, you say to the sharp-chinned, braided elf, in allundean:

  "Dunno. Don't touch the shit, personally. Just know they sell it back there, and that they have a pretty high cover charge."

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf says, in allundean:

  "Damn. All these years, and I never knew that."

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf asks you, in allundean:

  "I'll bet you know all sorts of shit, eh?"

   

  With a light shrug, you ask the sharp-chinned, braided elf, in allundean:

  "Who doesn't know something?"

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf nods to you, turning back towards a crude, makeshift bar.

   

  Calling out, you say to the sharp-chinned, braided elf, in allundean:

  "Wait a moment."

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf stops in his tracks.

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf turns around slowly.

   

  Spreading out your deck of Kruth cards in a fan-like shape, and offering them to the sharp-chinned, braided elf, you say to the sharp-chinned, braided elf, in allundean:

  "Indulge me. Pick a card."

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf shrugs, reaching towards one in the middle.

   

  You deal a Kruth card to the sharp-chinned, braided elf.

   

  You ask the sharp-chinned, braided elf, in allundean:

  "Lemme see?"

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf pulls the card towards his face, a wide smile cracking his lips.

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf holds up his Kruth card: the Water of Kings for all to see.

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf asks you, in allundean:

  "You play?"

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf gives you a Kruth card: the Water of Kings.

   

  As dusk falls, a couple of elves move over to the entrance, lighting the lamps beside the mantis carving.

   

  Speaking to himself, and staring at your Kruth card: the Water of Kings contemplatively, you say, in allundean:

  "Interesting..."

   

  Glancing up, you say to the sharp-chinned, braided elf, in allundean:

  "Hmm? Oh, yes. I suppose you could say that."

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf asks you, in allundean:

  "You ever hear of a game called Spice Run?"

   

  With a nod, you say to the sharp-chinned, braided elf, in allundean:

  "Aye, but I haven't played in a while."

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf watches you momentarily for a reaction, then appears to reach some sort of conclusion.

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf sits at some stacked and overturned crates.

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf straightens his cloak.

   

  The stooped, scar-torn elf shuffles your Kruth card: the Water of Kings into your deck of Kruth cards, eyeing the sharp-chinned, braided elf diplomatically.

   

  Ok.

  You break a Kruth card: the Water of Kings.

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf inhales slowly.

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in allundean:

  "You got a name?"

   

  At your table, you say in allundean, nodding stiffly:

  "Aye."

   

  At your table, you say in allundean, after a deliberate pause:

  "You may call me Mal."

   

  You think:

  "He drew the Water of Kings..."

   

  You think:

  "The card of rightful reward. Of vindication."

   

  Seeming slightly distracted, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says, in allundean:

  "My name is Eercdro, Mal. Pleasure ture make your acquaintance."

   

  At your table, you say in allundean, nodding:

  "Aye. Pleasure."

   

  At your table, you say in allundean, running the tip of his tongue over his scarred lips:

  "So what do you do when you're not looking to score spice, Eercdro?"

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in allundean:

  "I'm retired, young man. Now I work as a consort to the Haruch Kemad tribe, right?"

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in allundean:

  "It's a living."

   

  At your table, you say in allundean:

  "A consort?"

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in allundean:

  "That's a fact."

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf inhales slowly, deeply.

   

  At your table, you say in allundean, nodding once and thumbing through your deck of Kruth cards:

  "I see. Well I'm a fortune teller, if it's any interest to you. Spend a lot of time southside, and all that."

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in allundean:

  "No kidding? How much is a fortune?"

   

  At your table, you say in allundean:

  "Well, southside I charge 'tween thirty and fifty 'sid. But up here, things are a bit more negotiable, yes?"

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf snickers.

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in allundean:

  "Amen to that. Praise be the Highlord."

   

  The stooped, scar-torn elf laughs- a light, wheezy noise.

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in allundean:

  "Well you gotta help me out, then. I need to know... --the future-- but I ain't got no thirty coins, right?"

   

  At your table, you say in allundean, nodding solemnly and tapping your deck of Kruth cards:

  "I think I might be able to help you out, Eercdro. You drew quite an interesting card, just now..."

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in allundean, leaning foward, glancing at the deck, fascinated:

  "You serious?"

   

  At your table, you say in allundean, pushing back away from some stacked and overturned crates just a bit:

  "Yes. Could be very good, or very bad. I'd be willing to give you a hefty discount, simply out of my own curiosity. Of course, I can't give readings away for free..."

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in allundean, leaning back once again. His voice takes on a cool tone, but his eyes betray his obvious interest:

  "Course not, nothing's free, except sand."

   

  At your table, you say in allundean:

  "Think you could spare fifteen 'sid for a glimpse into your future?"

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in allundean:

  "Fifteen? Ain't no way you could go down to thirteen?"

   

  At your table, you say in allundean:

  "Thirteen? For a local?"

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in allundean:

  "No, man. Thirteen for --me.--"

   

  At your table, you say in allundean, nodding and resting his arms on a crate in between him and the sharp-chinned, braided elf:

  "Aye, sure."

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf smiles.

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf begins counting out a few coins.

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in allundean:

  "Oh, feck. I only got twelve, is that a problem?"

   

  At your table, you say in allundean, laughing shortly:

  "Only a problem for the man that's giving away his last twelve coins."

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf shrugs his shoulders.

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in allundean, handing over the money to you:

  "Gotta know the future, man."

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf gives you 12 coins.

   

  >You are carrying:

  12 obsidian pieces

  a deck of Kruth cards

   

  At your table, you say in allundean, nodding:

  "Aye, I understand."

   

  At your table, you say in allundean, expression suddenly serious:

  "Now. You look to me like a man that's got a particular question rolling about 'tween his ears. Am I right?"

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf appears to think hard about the question. Eventually, he nods.

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in allundean:

  "Yeah, that's right. How'd ya know?"

   

  At your table, you say in allundean, tapping your deck of Kruth cards:

  "I didn't. They did."

   

  At your table, you say in allundean:

  "Would you be comfortable asking your question out loud? It allows for a more accurate read."

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in allundean:

  "Yeah, sure."

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in allundean:

  "I'm trying to find a friend of mine. She's... missing."

   

  The stooped, scar-torn elf nods, remaining silent. He shuffles your deck of Kruth cards vigorously, his gaze not straying from the sharp-chinned, braided elf's eyes. Eventually, he holds out the cards in a fan-shape, offering them to the sharp-chinned, braided elf.

   

  The short figure in a dusty hooded, ebony cloak has arrived from the north.

   

  At your table, you say in allundean:

  "Pick one."

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf leans forward.

   

  The short figure in a dusty hooded, ebony cloak puts a set of fake elf ears inside a pair of brown leather pocketed pants.

   

  The short figure in a dusty hooded, ebony cloak makes his way up to the stack of crates, looking down at you.

   

  The short figure in a dusty hooded, ebony cloak looks down at you.

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf's hands hover over the cards. The gravity of his decision is apparent in his actions.

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf chooses a card at last.

   

  You deal a Kruth card to the sharp-chinned, braided elf.

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf holds up his Kruth card: the Stone of Life for you to see.

   

   At your table, you say in allundean, watching the sharp-chinned, braided elf intently:

  "I see. Put it down on the table, there. In the center."

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf drops his Kruth card: the Stone of Life onto some stacked and overturned crates.

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf gives you a Kruth card: the Stone of Life.

   

  At your table, you say in allundean, lacing his long fingers together as he addresses the sharp-chinned, braided elf:

  "The cards... they really respond to you. This "friend" you're looking for... quite important yes?"

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in allundean:

  "Drov yeah, real important."

   

  The disheveled, grid-tattooed man lowers the hood of a dusty hooded, ebony cloak.

   

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf doesn't seem to notice the disheveled, grid-tattooed man, so intent is he on your cards.

   

  At your table, you say in allundean:

  "It's interesting that you chose the Stone of Life."

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in allundean:

  "Oh yeah? Whatsit mean?"

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf appears to hang on your every word.

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf glances over at the disheveled, grid-tattooed man suddenly.

   

  The disheveled, grid-tattooed man nods down to the sharp-chinned, braided elf.

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf nods to the disheveled, grid-tattooed man quickly before returning his gaze to you.

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf motions the disheveled, grid-tattooed man over.

  At your table, you say in allundean:

  "It is the card of... finding. Of absolute gain. It represents birth, sudden wealth… or the failure to grasp such an opportunity."

   

  The disheveled, grid-tattooed man sits at some stacked and overturned crates.

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in allundean:

  "Damn, failure? I can't deal with that. How do I get this... wealth?"

   

  The disheveled, grid-tattooed man slides onto a crate, pulling it up to the table.

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in sirihish:

  "Pardon me, a moment. Round-Ears, this is Mal. Mal, meet Round-Ears."

   

  Faint outside light slowly brightens the smoky haze of the main room as Suk-Krath rises.

   

  The disheveled, grid-tattooed man looks you up and down cautiously for a moment before nodding.

   

  At your table, you say in allundean, glancing towards the disheveled, grid-tattooed man for a brief moment:

  "Hmm. Round-Ears. Well met."

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in sirihish, to you:

  "He's okay. He's from the neighborhood."

   

  At your table, you say in allundean, returning his attention to the sharp-chinned, braided elf and giving your Kruth card: the Stone of Life a tap:

  "Now, this card does not guarantee that you will find what you're seeking. It merely shows the importance of it, aye?"

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in sirihish:

  "No gaurantees, eh? Krath. That's kinda heavy."

   

  At your table, the disheveled, grid-tattooed man says in sirihish, raising an eyebrow at the sharp-chinned, braided elf:

  "Neighborhood? Man I meet you in a bar on the west side. Only reason I talk to you is for gambling, man."

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf ignores the disheveled, grid-tattooed man for a moment.

   

  At your table, you say in allundean, ignoring the disheveled, grid-tattooed man:

  "It was simply the first card. Here... let's see what can else we can learn."

   

  You deal yourself a Kruth card: the Sun of Truth.

   

  At your table, the disheveled, grid-tattooed man says in sirihish, glancing from the sharp-chinned, braided elf to you:

  "Thing is, I was just wondering if you people would like to help me beat the shit out of another round-ear."

   

  The disheveled, grid-tattooed man shrugs and pushes back in his chair slightly.

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in sirihish, to the disheveled, grid-tattooed man:

  "Not me, mate. I believe in non-violence."

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf returns to watching you, held in suspense.

   

  The stooped, scar-torn elf stares at your Kruth card: the Sun of Truth for a long moment, before handing it over to the sharp-chinned, braided elf.

   

  A Kruth card depicting a set of scales backlit with an image of Suk-krath.

  This card is made of a stiff, thick vellum. Carefully painted in the

  foreground in full color is a large set of golden scales. The ornate scales

  are carefully balancing three heavenly bodies. In one pan the two moons,

  Jihae and Lirathu and in the other Suk-krath shines brightly. The scales

  seem to glow against the relentless light from Suk-krath.

   

  The disheveled, grid-tattooed man shrugs and shakes his head.

   

  You give a Kruth card: the Sun of Truth to the sharp-chinned, braided elf.

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in sirihish:

  "Sun of Truth? What's that mean?"

   

  At your table, the disheveled, grid-tattooed man says in sirihish:

  "Fine, fine. But when that fecker lets it go to his head and he comes over to the east side…"

   

  At your table, you say in allundean:

  "In relation to your question, it represents those that can effect its answer."

   

  The disheveled, grid-tattooed man shrugs and stands up from his crate.

   

  The disheveled, grid-tattooed man stands up from some stacked and overturned crates.

   

  The disheveled, grid-tattooed man sits at a crude, makeshift bar.

   

  At your table, you say in allundean:

  "Your friends. Your enemies. Krath, even me."

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in sirihish:

  "Well how do I know who can effect me? Seems to me, like that's what I need to know. Lotta possiblities."

   

  At your table, you say in allundean, spreading his long-fingered hands dramatically:

  "More generally, however, the Sun of Truth (as that card is called), represents trial. Pain and doubt, but a bringer of growth."

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf frowns at your words.

   

  At your table, you say in allundean:

  "What this card seems to be saying is that you will find little help with your search. Or, perhaps, that what help you do receive will only harm you."

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf's shoulders slump.

   

  At your table, you say in allundean, shaking his head and leaning back slightly:

  "But, don't get me wrong. It is -not- saying you won't find her."

   

  At your table, you say in allundean:

  "It simply says that, if you do, it will be because of -you-, Eercdro. This is -your- search."

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in allundean:

  "Sounds like it all boils down to me."

   

  At your table, you say in allundean, nodding sincerely:

  "Aye. The Sun of Truth is not a bad card, Eercdro. It brings strength. But it is hard-won."

   

  At your table, you say in allundean, lifting up your deck of Kruth cards:

  "Now, let's move on. I'd like you to shuffle the deck a bit, and draw your own card again, since the cards seem to respond so strongly to you."

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf nods, reaching out for the cards.

   

  You give a deck of Kruth cards to the sharp-chinned, braided elf.

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf begins to shuffle the deck of cards. His fingers prove reasonably nimble, like they know their way around a deck. He doesn't do anything fancy, sticking to conventional interchanges of the cards. Eventually, he turns over the top card.

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf deals himself a Kruth card.

   

  At your table, you say in allundean, with a faint nod:

  "When you're ready, put it down with the others."

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf holds up his Kruth card: the Sun of Life to you.

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf returns the deck and his Kruth card: the Sun of Life to the table.

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf gives you a deck of Kruth cards.

   

  The stooped, scar-torn elf's scarred lips twist into a smile.

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf gives you a Kruth card: the Sun of Life.

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf gives you a Kruth card: the Sun of Truth.

   

  At your table, you say in allundean, shaking his head several times:

  "My, my, my. What an interesting read this has been!"

   

  You are carrying:

  12 obsidian pieces

  a Kruth card: the Sun of Truth

  a Kruth card: the Sun of Life

  a deck of Kruth cards

  a Kruth card: the Stone of Life

   

  A Kruth card depicting a healthy tree, Suk-krath glowing in the sky above

  it.

  This card is made of a stiff, thick vellum. Carefully painted in the

  foreground in full color is a large, healthy green cylini tree. Dotted

  around the thick brown trunk of the tree is a mosaic of wildflowers. Above

  the tree Suk-krath is glowing brightly, shining down on the flora below.

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in allundean:

  "Damn, Halfling's luck!"

   

  At your table, you say in allundean, tapping your Kruth card: the Sun of Life:

  "This falls in perfectly with your previous cards."

   

  At your table, you say in allundean:

  "This card represents the choice you have. How you can personally change the outcome of this decision."

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf watches you, blinking only once.

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in allundean:

  "How so?"

   

  At your table, you say in allundean:

  "And, as we already divined, it all comes down to you on this one, Eercdro."

   

  At your table, you say in allundean, holding of your Kruth card: the Sun of Life, an intense expression on his face:

  "Rebirth. Victory in battle. Pain bringing triumph."

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf smiles contentedly.

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in allundean:

  "All kinds of good shit."

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in allundean:

  "Well believe me, Mal. I got pain in my life. All kinds of pain. But now what I need is triumph."

   

  At your table, you say in allundean:

  "If you can withstand the heat of Suk-Krath, you will be stronger for it. The cards seem to suggest that you will find your friend, or some important clue about her. But not without a great deal of work, and perhaps sacrifice."

   

  At your table, you say in allundean, nodding, a faint smile on his face:

  "I believe strongly that you will triumph."

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf grins.

   

  At your table, you say in allundean:

  "Remember the first card you drew? The one of the King?"

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in allundean:

  "Yeah?"

   

  At your table, you say in allundean:

  "It represents..."

   

  The stooped, scar-torn elf pauses in his speech to make a strange motion in the air, as if physically searching for his next word.

   

   

  At your table, you say in allundean:

  "A deserved reward. Righteousness."

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in allundean:

  "Righteousness, eh? That sounds like me."

   

  At your table, you say in allundean:

  "Benefits, Eercdro. Great benefits. And if you put that next to all this talk of trial and pain... well, you can figure it out for yourself, aye?"

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in allundean:

  "Yeah, I feel like I know what I need to do."

   

  At your table, you say in allundean, flashing a yellow-toothed grin:

  "Glad I could help. I have to say, it's easy with you. The cards practically leapt out of the deck at you!"

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf smiles.

   

  At your table, you say in allundean, releasing a wheezy chuckle as he sets your deck of Kruth cards aside:

  "In fact, I should probably let this deck cool off for a bit."

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in allundean:

  "Krath-damn, I feel like I've had some good news this evening."

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf glances over at the disheveled, grid-tattooed man for a long moment, before turning back to his table.

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in allundean:

  "Man, this young generation. Always in a hurry to go knife somebody."

   

  The disheveled, grid-tattooed man raises a hand rubbing his forehead, a frustrated look on his face.

   

  At your table, you say in allundean:

  "Indeed, indeed. Round-Ears... I think I've seen him southside quite a bit, actually."

   

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf chuckles.

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in allundean:

  "Yeah, I believe it."

   

  The stooped, scar-torn elf bends down, slipping some coins into a pouch at his ankle.

   

  You put a pile of coins inside a small leather pouch.

  Ok.

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in allundean:

  "Hey, you seen a Necker by the name of Octorix running around? Got green eyes?"

   

  The stooped, scar-torn elf shuffles a few cards back into his deck of Kruth cards.

   

  At your table, you say in allundean, shaking his head as he stuffs his deck into your plain sandcloth wristwrap:

  "Nah, the name isn't familiar. Lots of green-eyed runners around, too."

   

  You put a deck of Kruth cards inside a plain sandcloth wristwrap.

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf nods.

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in allundean:

  "At any rate."

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in allundean:

  "So what family you in, mate? If you don't want to tell me, --you-- change the subject."

   

  At your table, you say in allundean, after a long pause:

  "So what exactly does a consort for the Haruch Kemad do?"

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in allundean:

  "Mostly I fuck my Mistress for cash. Not a bad living, really. You ever met Kattria?"

   

  At your table, you say in allundean:

  "Kattria? No, I can't say that I have."

   

  You think:

  "Not a bad living at all..."

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in allundean:

  "Yeah, she treats me alright. Keeps me fed and off the street. I get by."

   

  At your table, you say in allundean, with a wry smile:

  "Krath. I wouldn't mind getting work as a "consort"."

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf smiles.

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf looks at you.

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf looks you up and down.

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in allundean:

  "How long can you go for? You go for an hour?"

   

  At your table, you say in allundean, snorting:

  "Nah. I wasn't serious. I got other loyalties. And besides, fortune telling keeps me fed well enough."

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in allundean:

  "Well, I had to make sure."

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf chuckles.

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in allundean:

  "Still, I got a good job. Command a lotta respect for it, a lotta respect."

   

  At your table, you say in allundean, fiddling with your plain sandcloth wristwrap and chuckling lightly:

  "Aye, aye. Well, I couldn't see myself doing much beyond reading the cards. Got to use what you're given, aye?"

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in allundean:

  "Amen to that. Praise be His name, and shit. You got a good thing going, since you got The Sight."

   

  At your table, you say in allundean, frowning slightly:

  "You'd think so, aye, but... well, the fecks southside don't appreciate my craft like they used to."

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf shakes his head.

   

  At your table, you say in allundean, flashing a smile:

  "Damn shame. But, feck, that's why I charge them half a small, aye?"

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in allundean:

  "Them cheap ass, kank fucking, dilapidated sand-snorting sons of bitches. Sheeeeeyit, that's why I ain't go down there."

   

  The stooped, scar-torn elf nods in agreement to the sharp-chinned, braided elf's words.

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in allundean:

  "I hear you. I --hear--- you. Course, I kinda like it down there. They got one thing we ain't got up here."

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in allundean:

  "You know what that is?"

   

  At your table, you say in allundean:

  "Deep pockets?"

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf chuckles.

   

  At your table, you say in allundean, shrugging:

  "Well, that's why I go, anyway."

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in allundean, nodding in reluctant agreement:

  "I'll give you that. Yeah, they got cash. But they also got -- security--."

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in allundean:

  "Alright, Mal, nice to meet you."

   

  At your table, the sharp-chinned, braided elf says in allundean:

  "Shade."

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf stands up from some stacked and overturned crates.

   

  Raising a hand in parting, you say to the sharp-chinned, braided elf, in allundean:

  "Aye, shade. If you ever need my help again..."

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf makes his way over to a crude, makeshift bar.

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf says to you, in sirihish:

  "I'll remember that."

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf sits at a crude, makeshift bar.

   

  You say to the sharp-chinned, braided elf, in allundean:

  "I'll be sure to give a discounted price."

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf waves to you.

   

  The stooped, scar-torn elf gathers your dark, hooded cloak about him as he stands.

   

  Rubbing at the small of his back a bit, you stand up from some stacked and overturned crates.

   

  The stooped, scar-torn elf skirts past a few drunken patrons, heading outside.

   

  Twisting Alleyway [NES]

  Detritus and debris dominates this junction of twisting alleys.

  Refuse of all varieties is strewn all about, including rags too torn and

  filthy for even the most desperate to find useful, excrement, and perhaps a

  humanoid corpse, most likely stripped of its possessions, perhaps even some

  of its flesh gnawed or cut away. The overpowering, putrid odor of the

  labyrinth is overwhelming here, and even in the relatively open space, the

  tall, crumbling buildings seem to close in, creating a profound feeling of

  claustrophobia.

  This narrow, twisting alleyway snakes off to the north and east. A

  loud, busy establishment of some sort can be seen to the south.

   

  You draw an obsidian knife.

   

  You draw an obsidian knife.

   

  You raise the hood of a dark, hooded cloak.

   

  The weary fortune teller returns to the streets and shadows, searching for a room to squat in for the night.

   

  Abandoned Building [N]

  Unsightly clutter lies strewn about the place, covered with sand and

  grime from both wind and filthy occupants. The building is obviously

  abandoned and fallen into disrepair, but it apparently still serves as at

  least a sleeping-spot for desperate inhabitants of the labyrinth.

  A doorway to the north serves as the exit from this building.

   

  You think:

  "He seemed impressed with my read."

   

  You think:

  "And why shouldn't he? It was a damn good read."

   

  You think:

  "He wrestled three 'sid away from me, aye... but what good'll three 'sid do him when he comes running to me to solve all his petty plights with the cards?"

   

  You think:

  "Twelve 'sid isn't too bad, either..."

   

  You think:

  "Besides... it was an interesting read."

  The scene begins in a seedy tavern, somewhere in the ‘Rinth…

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf asks the tiny-headed half-giant, in sirihish:

  "Hey, you got any spice, ya lazy feck?"

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf coughs.

   

  The sharp-chinned, braided elf eats a portion of a serving of...

  
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