Original Submissions by manonfire of type 'Logs'

• 

  A Burial at Sea
  Added on Aug 2, 2007

  Read on.

  ---

  Our hero, Krok, is going about business as usual - clearing the road from Red Storm to Allanak of pesky scrabs and beetles. Another normal day, until..
  
  Windy Plains [NESW]
     A strong wind out of the south is the prevailing force on these plains,
  and it has left its mark. The ground here is flat, save for mottled clumps
  of red dirt, which the winds scatter about continually. Legend holds that
  the area once supported abundant flora and fauna; today, only a few thorny
  plants, growing in tiny crevices in the ground, are all that remain. Red
  dust accumulates on the southern side of these remnants of times past.
  The body of the wiry, grey-tan mul lies crumpled on the sands.
  A dusty gray wooden sword with obsidian edges lies here.
  A dusty angled, obsidian blade with a bone handle has been carelessly dropped here.
  A silt-colored kank stands here clacking its pincers.
  A glossy, black-scaled inix has arrived from the south.
  
  Glancing down at the body of the wiry, grey-tan mul, you say, in sirihish:
       "Uh oh."
  
  You pick up the body of the wiry, grey-tan mul.
  It is manageable, and full.
  
  You sling a bloodied massive, spiked club across your back.
  
  Windy Plains [NESW]
     A strong wind out of the south is the prevailing force on these plains,
  and it has left its mark. The ground here is flat, save for mottled clumps
  of red dirt, which the winds scatter about continually. Legend holds that
  the area once supported abundant flora and fauna; today, only a few thorny
  plants, growing in tiny crevices in the ground, are all that remain. Red
  dust accumulates on the southern side of these remnants of times past.
     Just to the south, a village with high stone walls rises out of the
  windswept plains.
  A glossy, black-scaled inix has arrived from the north.
  
  
  Before Sand Gate [NS]
     The northern gate of Red Storm Village stands here, a heavy
  construction of hard, pale grey styrax wood.  The gate is set back slightly
  in the grey stone walls, providing a little shelter from the fierce winds
  even when it is closed.  A beige canvas tarpaulin soars overhead, suspended
  some twenty cords above the ground by styrax beams, to provide additional
  cover.  The sunlight filters through the reddish-brown dust with difficulty.
  The thin, raven-haired soldier is sitting here.
  A glossy, black-scaled inix has arrived from the north.
  
  Sparse sands blow across your path.
  Inside Sand Gate [NESW]
     The northern gate of Red Storm Village stands here, a heavy construction
  of hard, pale grey styrax wood. The ancient grey stone walls of the village
  lead off to the east and west from here, and just inside them runs a rocky
  perimeter road. Vast beige canvas tarpaulins soar high above, suspended
  from beams of pale grey styrax wood to provide some shelter.
     Warehouses and crafting halls lie to the southeast and the southwest,
  separated by an assortment of narrow alleys and slightly broader streets.
  The sounds of saw on wood, chisel on stone, and other crafting activities
  can be heard from all around. Cloaked villagers walk quickly along the
  road, carefully avoiding eye contact with anyone.
  The bleak-faced grey soldier stands here, keeping watch over the area.
  The dusty-red mulish soldier watches the travelers passing by here.
  A glossy, black-scaled inix has arrived from the north.
  
  Fury's Road [NS]
     This broad rock road runs from north to south through the heart of Red
  Storm Village. It follows the slope of a valley, dipping to its lowest near
  the center of the village, and appears to have been smoothed with years of
  passage by wagons and passersby alike. Small streets lead off to the east
  and west, sloping upwards as they do so. Vast beige tarpaulins suspended
  from styrax beams reach out from the buildings on either side of the road,
  providing some degree of shelter from the fierce winds.
     Warehouses and crafting halls lie to the east and west, separated by an
  assortment of narrow alleys and slightly broader streets. The sounds of
  saw on wood, chisel on stone, and other crafting activities can be heard
  from all around. Cloaked villagers walk quickly along the road, carefully
  avoiding eye contact with anyone.
  A glossy, black-scaled inix has arrived from the north.
  
  
  You think:
       "Poor mul. Wonder what hit him?"
  
  Fury's Road [NESW]
     This broad rock road runs from north to south through the heart of Red
  Storm Village. It follows the slope of a valley, dipping to its lowest near
  the center of the village, and appears to have been smoothed with years of
  passage by wagons and passersby alike. Small streets lead off to the east
  and west, sloping upwards as they do so. Vast beige tarpaulins suspended
  from styrax beams reach out from the buildings on either side of the road,
  providing some degree of shelter from the fierce winds.
     A large fenced yard lies to the east, and several kanks and other types
  of mounts and beasts of burden are visible inside it. To the west lies a
  vast, flat yard, and the road bears evidence of frequent wagon travel to
  and from that direction. Cloaked villagers walk quickly along the road,
  carefully avoiding eye contact with anyone as they move between any mounts
  being ridden here.
  The elderly, white-haired woman walks here, smiling as she looks around.
  A glossy, black-scaled inix has arrived from the north.
  
  Kank Yard [EW]
     This large yard is bordered to the north and south by a number of large
  warehouses and crafting halls. The area here is thick with red dust; the
  vast tarpaulins that shelter most of the village do not provide as much
  cover over the large open area here. Several dozen kanks, war beetles, and
  other beasts of burden mill about in pens and stalls partitioned by styrax
  wood fences.
     Travelers from afar walk around the pens, examining and purchasing
  mounts to suit their requirements. A detachment of village militia keeps a
  vigilant watch over proceedings.
  The burly, brown-bearded man stands here, shouting out prices for mounts.
  A glossy, black-scaled inix has arrived from the west.
  
  Sparse sands blow across your path.
  Village Stables [W]
     The stables here are built from stout planks of pale grey styrax wood,
  carefully fashioned so that the area here is minimally exposed to the harsh
  elements outside. Several pens and stalls are partitioned off around the
  interior of this building, providing shelter for several mounts. A small
  detachment of village militia keeps watch over the area here.
  The black dwarven soldier stands here impassively, watching.
  The robust, one-eyed soldier is here, keeping watch over the area.
  The dusty, grey-haired half-elf stands here, looking over the mounts.
  A glossy, black-scaled inix has arrived from the west.
  
  You store a glossy, black-scaled inix in the stables.
  The dusty, grey-haired half-elf says, in sirihish:
       "Here is your ticket. It'll be 20 coins to retrieve it when you return."
  
  You put your worn leather ticket into your leather swordbelt.
  
  You think:
       "Should give that to Boss Oban. He might like it."
  
  Kank Yard [EW]
     This large yard is bordered to the north and south by a number of large
  warehouses and crafting halls. The area here is thick with red dust; the
  vast tarpaulins that shelter most of the village do not provide as much
  cover over the large open area here. Several dozen kanks, war beetles, and
  other beasts of burden mill about in pens and stalls partitioned by styrax
  wood fences.
     Travelers from afar walk around the pens, examining and purchasing
  mounts to suit their requirements. A detachment of village militia keeps a
  vigilant watch over proceedings.
  The burly, brown-bearded man stands here, shouting out prices for mounts.
  
  Sparse sands blow across your path.
  Fury's Road [NESW]
     This broad rock road runs from north to south through the heart of Red
  Storm Village. It follows the slope of a valley, dipping to its lowest near
  the center of the village, and appears to have been smoothed with years of
  passage by wagons and passersby alike. Small streets lead off to the east
  and west, sloping upwards as they do so. Vast beige tarpaulins suspended
  from styrax beams reach out from the buildings on either side of the road,
  providing some degree of shelter from the fierce winds.
     A large fenced yard lies to the east, and several kanks and other types
  of mounts and beasts of burden are visible inside it. To the west lies a
  vast, flat yard, and the road bears evidence of frequent wagon travel to
  and from that direction. Cloaked villagers walk quickly along the road,
  carefully avoiding eye contact with anyone as they move between any mounts
  being ridden here.
  The elderly, white-haired woman walks here, smiling as she looks around.
  
  You are carrying:
  a dusty bone-handled, obsidian hawkblade
  a dusty obsidian-edged grey sword
  the body of the wiry, grey-tan mul
  the body of a large black beetle
  
  You think:
       "Mul has lots of nice things. I should get them for Oban."
  
  
  ..Krok goes through the body, collecting items of that might be of value for "Boss Oban" and shoves them into the chest.
  
  
  Scratching his cheek, you ask, in sirihish:
       "What should I do with him, then?"
  
  Kuraci Barracks [E Quit Save]
     This medium-sized room has polished, dark brown wooden walls on three
  sides and a grey stone wall on the fourth side.  A few high, narrow windows
  are set in the stone wall, letting in some sunlight.  Some empty brackets
  along the stone wall show where torches could be set at night to provide
  light to the area.  The room is fairly sparse, with cots arranged in neat
  rows being the main type of furniture present.  To the east, the room opens
  up into a small hall.  
  The body of the wiry, grey-tan mul lies crumpled on the floor.
  The body of a large black beetle lies crumpled on the floor.
  The body of an insect-like scrab lies crumpled on the floor.
  A tregil-carved wooden chest sits here.
  A green footlocker sits at the foot of the bed.
  A large bone-framed painting hangs near the weapon rack and armor crate.
  A red footlocker sits at the foot of the bed.
  A small chart detailing caravan status is here, set onto a wall.
  A massive baobab strongbox rests in one corner here.
  A simple wooden chest are here, stacked up together.
  A purple footlocker sits at the foot of the bed.
  A skull-carved wooden chest sits here.
  A narrow-eyed, bald half-elf sits on a cot.
  
  
  You think:
       "When Pops died I put dirt on him. Maybe I should put dirt on him?"
  
  
  You pick up the body of the wiry, grey-tan mul.
  It is light, and empty.
  
  
  The immense, jet-striped half-giant hefts your body of the wiry, grey-tan mul upwards, tossing the corpse over a shoulder.
  
  ..Krok leaves the Kuraci barracks, corpse in tow, intent on burying the body.
  
  Sparse sands blow across your path.
  Fury's Road [NESW]
     This broad rock road runs from north to south through the heart of Red
  Storm Village. It follows the slope of a valley, dipping to its lowest near
  the center of the village, and appears to have been smoothed with years of
  passage by wagons and passersby alike. Small streets lead off to the east
  and west, sloping upwards as they do so. Vast beige tarpaulins suspended
  from styrax beams reach out from the buildings on either side of the road,
  providing some degree of shelter from the fierce winds.
     A large fenced yard lies to the east, and several kanks and other types
  of mounts and beasts of burden are visible inside it. To the west lies a
  vast, flat yard, and the road bears evidence of frequent wagon travel to
  and from that direction. Cloaked villagers walk quickly along the road,
  carefully avoiding eye contact with anyone as they move between any mounts
  being ridden here.
  A silt-colored kank stands here, carrying the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak on his back.
  The elderly, white-haired woman walks here, smiling as she looks around.
  
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak looks up at you.
  
  The brown-haired, weathered woman has arrived from the east.
  
  Waving cheerfully, you exclaim to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
       "Hi!"
  
  Fury's Road [NESW]
     This broad rock road runs from north to south through the heart of Red
  Storm Village. It follows the slope of a valley, dipping to its lowest near
  the center of the village, and appears to have been smoothed with years of
  passage by wagons and passersby alike. Small streets lead off to the east
  and west, sloping upwards as they do so. Vast beige tarpaulins suspended
  from styrax beams reach out from the buildings on either side of the road,
  providing some degree of shelter from the fierce winds.
     A large fenced yard lies to the east, and several kanks and other types
  of mounts and beasts of burden are visible inside it. To the west lies a
  vast, flat yard, and the road bears evidence of frequent wagon travel to
  and from that direction. Cloaked villagers walk quickly along the road,
  carefully avoiding eye contact with anyone as they move between any mounts
  being ridden here.
  The brown-haired, weathered woman is standing here.
  A silt-colored kank stands here, carrying the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak on his back.
  The elderly, white-haired woman walks here, smiling as she looks around.
  
  You are carrying:
  the body of the wiry, grey-tan mul
  
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak asks you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "Hello there, Did you come in from the sands my friend?"
  
  Glancing up with wide eyes, the brown-haired, weathered woman looks up at you.
  
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak looks at the brown-haired, weathered woman.
  
  Nodding emphatically, you say to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
       "Yep! About to go back and put dirt on him."
  
  The immense, jet-striped half-giant shifts your body of the wiry, grey-tan mul atop his shoulder.
  
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "Can you take me with you, he was a close friend of mine."
  
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "I want to help."
  
  Pointing northwards, nodding sharply, you ask the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
       "Okay. I think they close the gates when it gets dark - We can wait until morning?"
  
  You are carrying:
  the body of the wiry, grey-tan mul
  
  It is dusk on Nekrete, the 71st day of the Ascending Sun,
  In the Year of Lirathu's Defiance, year 33 of the 21st Age.
  
  The brown-haired, weathered woman picks a way around you, giving you a wide berth.
  
  The brown-haired, weathered woman walks south.
  
  Nodding, the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "That will be fine, I got his call for help when I was way up in Tuluk, I see I'm far too late."
  
  Frowning deeply, you ask the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
       "Oh no. I think a beetle might have ate parts of him.. What was his name?"
  
  
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak asks you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "Was his sword with him? Ah it was Kemen,  He had a family, you can take what you need its the way of the sands, but was there anything lefT?"
  
  You think:
       "Hmmm.. Oban says he gets stuff I get from the sands.."
  
  The brown-haired, weathered woman has arrived from the west.
  
  You think:
       "I better not tell him everything."
  
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak sighs, slumping heavily in his saddle.
  
  Glancing up as she walks past, the brown-haired, weathered woman looks at the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak.
  
  After a moment, nodding, you say to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
       "Yep! He had a sword and a Whira-cover.. I put them in the comp-pound."
  
  
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak asks you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "Compound?"
  
  Nodding sharply, you ask the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
       "The Cure-ack comp-pound. Want me to get it for you?"
  
  Nodding, the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "Yes please, I need to return those to his family and adopted son. I got to give them the bad news."
  
  Cheerfully, beaming a bright smile, you exclaim to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
       "Okay! Stay here!"
  
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "I will."
  
  ..Krok heads back to the "comp-pound" and fetches the weapons and cloak, leaving the other items behind for his boss. Tricky giant!
  
  Hefting your body of the wiry, grey-tan mul upwards, resting it upon a massive shoulder, you say to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
       "Found them! Right where I left them."
  
  You are carrying:
  a dusty hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak
  a dusty bone-handled, obsidian hawkblade
  a dusty curved, yellowed bone longsword
  the body of the wiry, grey-tan mul
  
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak looks up from slumping in his saddle with a faint smile  to you.
  
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "That's good."
  
  Passing over a pair of swords, you give your dusty bone-handled, obsidian hawkblade to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak.
  
  Passing over a pair of swords, you give your dusty curved, yellowed bone longsword to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak.
  
  Holding your dusty hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak aloft, you ask the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
       "And his Whira-cover. You want that too?"
  
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak takes the offered swords with reverance, moving them towards his bone-studded backpack.
  
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "Yes please, anything you didn't need for yourself."
  
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak puts his dusty curved, yellowed bone longsword into his bone-studded backpack.
  
  Passing over your dusty hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak, frowning, you say to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
       "Not much carried. This was all I found."
  
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak nods.
  
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "He wasn't a rich person."
  
  Passing over a wadded batch of brown sandcloth, you give your dusty hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak.
  
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak nods and folds his dusty hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak, sliding it along the swords into his bone-studded backpack.
  
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak puts his dusty hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak into his bone-studded backpack.
  
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak looks up at you.
  
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak asks you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "You are with Kurac?"
  
  Holding your body of the wiry, grey-tan mul aloft by an arm, you say to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
       "Pops is dead, too."
  
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak winces and frowns nodding sadly towards you.
  
  Nodding, smiling brightly, you say to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
       "Yep! I work for Oban - He tells me to clear the road. Clear to the rock!"
  
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "Ah, a coincidence, Just this week I was up in Tuluk to try and join with Kurac, then My friend called me."
  
  Slumping again in his saddle, the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "I was too late."
  
  After a moment's pause, you ask the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
       "I was gonna throw dirt on him near the shit-sea. You think we should throw it on him somewhere else?"
  
  Curiously, you look down at the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak.
  This slight wiry man stands before you, his skin a dark tan and pulled
  tight across his frame, slight muscles can be seen rippling beneath the
  surface.  Wild savage brown hair falls from his head to about his chin.
  Pale purple eyes peer out from under a thin browline.  His sharp angled face
  a mess of tiny scars.  Though broad shouldered he is not massive, his torso
  tapering off to a lean waist, from which long lean legs support this man.  
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak is in excellent condition.
  
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak is using:
  <worn on head>           a dusty chitin-plated leather helmet
  <worn around neck>       an used dusty dark leather collar
  <worn across back>       a dusty double-layered sandcloth pack
  <worn on arms>           an used pair of dark leather sleeves
  <worn around body>       a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak
  <worn on legs>           an used pair of dark leather leggings
  <worn on feet>           an used dusty pair of chitin-plated leather boots
  
  He is carrying:
  nothing obvious
  
  
  Shaking his head, the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak asks you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "No, he always wanted to be thrown into the sea, I knew I could never do that, but maybe you could?"
  
  Chewing on his bottom lip, you say to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
       "Maybe. I start to fall into Ruk if I walk too far. Pops said the sea will take whatever sits on the shore."
  
  Nodding, the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "I don't want to risk your life, We can bury him."
  
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak looks at the brown-haired, weathered woman.
  
  Brow furrowed with intense concentration, you exclaim to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
       "We can.. bury him -near- the shit sea! I won't sink into Ruk, and the sea will take him!"
  
  With beaming satisfaction, you ask the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
       "That way he'll be happy in Drov! Think?"
  
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "Alright, though he  was part of a tribe as well, He was a strange mul, I need one more thing from him before we can bury him. I need to take his head back to his tribe, so they can turn it into a grave marker for him."
  
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "I hope so, I know he was too young for this though."
  
  Nodding slowly, you ask the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
       "Okay. You want to cut?"
  
  
  The immense, jet-striped half-giant holds your body of the wiry, grey-tan mul before himself, the corpse dangling from a held arm.
  
  Nodding with a frown, the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "Alright."
  
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak swings his legs to the side and dismounts.
  
  
  You drop the body of the wiry, grey-tan mul.  Shown to the room as:
  The body of the wiry, grey-tan mul lies crumped in a heap on the dusty road.
  
  
  Fury's Road [NESW]
     This broad rock road runs from north to south through the heart of Red
  Storm Village. It follows the slope of a valley, dipping to its lowest near
  the center of the village, and appears to have been smoothed with years of
  passage by wagons and passersby alike. Small streets lead off to the east
  and west, sloping upwards as they do so. Vast beige tarpaulins suspended
  from styrax beams reach out from the buildings on either side of the road,
  providing some degree of shelter from the fierce winds.
     A large fenced yard lies to the east, and several kanks and other types
  of mounts and beasts of burden are visible inside it. To the west lies a
  vast, flat yard, and the road bears evidence of frequent wagon travel to
  and from that direction.
  The body of the wiry, grey-tan mul lies crumped in a heap on the dusty road.
  A silt-colored kank stands here clacking its pincers.
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak is standing here.
  The elderly, white-haired woman walks here, smiling as she looks around.
  
  
  The immense, jet-striped half-giant crouches near the body of the wiry, grey-tan mul, watching the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak curiously.
  
  As he steps over towards  body, the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says, in an unfamiliar tongue:
       "xau yye eulq moun al lbay niiw wuiyqn."
  
  A silt-colored kank rubs its mandibles together.
  
  Lips pursed thoughtfully, the immense, jet-striped half-giant watches the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak with piqued interest.
  
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak crouches down taking his dusty bone-handled, obsidian hawkblade from his bone-studded backpack, lifting it above his head, with a stifled sniffle he brings his dusty bone-handled, obsidian hawkblade down.
  
  
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak brandishes his dusty bone-handled, obsidian hawkblade.
  
  
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak removes the head from the body of the wiry, grey-tan mul.
  
  
  Fury's Road [NESW]
     This broad rock road runs from north to south through the heart of Red
  Storm Village. It follows the slope of a valley, dipping to its lowest near
  the center of the village, and appears to have been smoothed with years of
  passage by wagons and passersby alike. Small streets lead off to the east
  and west, sloping upwards as they do so. Vast beige tarpaulins suspended
  from styrax beams reach out from the buildings on either side of the road,
  providing some degree of shelter from the fierce winds.
     A large fenced yard lies to the east, and several kanks and other types
  of mounts and beasts of burden are visible inside it. To the west lies a
  vast, flat yard, and the road bears evidence of frequent wagon travel to
  and from that direction.
  The head of the wiry, grey-tan mul lies here.
  The headless body of the wiry, grey-tan mul lies crumped in a heap on the dusty road.
  A silt-colored kank stands here clacking its pincers.
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak is standing here.
  The elderly, white-haired woman walks here, smiling as she looks around.
  
  
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak picks up the head of the wiry, grey-tan mul.
  
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak frowns tears spilling down his cheeks briefly as he holds his head of the wiry, grey-tan mul.
  
  The immense, jet-striped half-giant flinches slightly at the moment of decapitation.
  
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak stops using his dusty bone-handled, obsidian hawkblade.
  
  It is before dawn on Waleuk, the 72nd day of the Ascending Sun,
  In the Year of Lirathu's Defiance, year 33 of the 21st Age.
  
  
  The immense, jet-striped half-giant bends, scooping up the headless body of the wiry, grey-tan mul in both arms.
  
  You pick up the headless body of the wiry, grey-tan mul.
  It is light, and empty.
  
  Standing he wipes his tears, composing himself, the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says, in an unfamiliar tongue:
       "rst aowemm runu."
  
  His face softening with empathy, you say to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
       "Sorry over your friend. "
  
  Nodding briefly, the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak asks you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "Its alright, how many others know he is dead?"
  
  Shrugging mildly, you say to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
       "Don't know. I saw feet in Ruk around his body, so maybe someone."
  
  
  Nodding, the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "Alright, lets not tell anyone, its not their way."
  
  Frowning as he looks down at his head of the wiry, grey-tan mul, closing the eyes on it, the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "It's a damn shame."
  
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak puts his head of the wiry, grey-tan mul into his bone-studded backpack.
  
  Sparing a glance to your headless body of the wiry, grey-tan mul, dipping his head, you say to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
       "Okay. I can keep silences."
  
  
  Smiling faintly with another nod, the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "I may have just met you but you're a good friend Krok. Now we just need to wait for dawn."
  
  The giant crimson sun rises in the east.
  The red moon, Jihae, moves with ponderous grace from the sky, setting.
  The white moon, Lirathu, moves with slow grace from the sky, as it sets.
  
  Lifting his jutted chin upwards, peering at the brightening sky, you say, in sirihish:
       "There he is."
  
  
  You are carrying:
  the headless body of the wiry, grey-tan mul
  
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak nods.
  
  The immense, jet-striped half-giant settles your headless body of the wiry, grey-tan mul on his shoulder, beckoning to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak.
  
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak falls in behind you.
  
  
  ..heading towards the sea
  
  
  Over a shoulder, you say to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
       "Might need to get stabbers and thumpers. Pissy things out here."
  
  You unsling a bloodied massive, spiked club from your back.
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak brandishes his dusty bone-handled, obsidian hawkblade.
  
  Sea's Edge [NESW]
     The wind sweeps around this sandy shore, marking the beginning of the
  Sea of Eternal Dust.  A vast expanse of silt spreads outward.  The dust from
  the sea rises up into the air with the slightest breeze, caking whatever it
  lands on with a thin layer.  Only a tiny amount of light from the darkened
  sky pierces the thick clouds of dust hanging in the air.  The sand shifts
  and moves easily, and would obviously be difficult, if not perilous, to walk
  on.  
     To the south, a wooden dock is barely visible through the continually
  swirling haze.  
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak has arrived from the north.
  A silt-colored kank has arrived from the north.
  
  Pausing, you say to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
       "I think here is good, yeah? Throw dirt and shit on him, Ruk will take him into the sea."
  
  The immense, jet-striped half-giant shifts uneasily, his feet sinking into the soft ground.
  
  Nodding solemly, the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "Looks good, lets make it fast though, we don't need Ruk taking more then what we offer."
  
  The immense, jet-striped half-giant nods, shifting your headless body of the wiry, grey-tan mul off his shoulder.
  
  You drop the headless body of the wiry, grey-tan mul, which is swallowed up by the silt.
  The headless body of the wiry, grey-tan mul lies crumpled here.
  
  Sea's Edge [NESW]
     The wind sweeps around this sandy shore, marking the beginning of the
  Sea of Eternal Dust.  A vast expanse of silt spreads outward.  The dust from
  the sea rises up into the air with the slightest breeze, caking whatever it
  lands on with a thin layer.  Only a tiny amount of light from the darkened
  sky pierces the thick clouds of dust hanging in the air.  The sand shifts
  and moves easily, and would obviously be difficult, if not perilous, to walk
  on.  
     To the south, a wooden dock is barely visible through the continually
  swirling haze.  
  The headless body of the wiry, grey-tan mul lies crumpled here.
  A silt-colored kank stands here clacking its pincers.
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak is standing here.
  
  The immense, jet-striped half-giant crouches, gathering up two massive handfuls of mixed sand and silt.
  
  The immense, jet-striped half-giant tosses a few handfuls of sand onto the headless body of the wiry, grey-tan mul.
  
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak crouches down scooping up sand with his dusty bone-handled, obsidian hawkblade to move it over the headless body of the wiry, grey-tan mul.
  
  You arrange the headless body of the wiry, grey-tan mul.
  Shown to the room as:
  The headless body of the wiry, grey-tan mul lies crumpled here, half buried in sand.
  
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says, in an unfamiliar tongue:
       "muoe oqesumn yw moo qumc eo leojy mooivo."
  
  The immense, jet-striped half-giant shoves a pile of sand onto the headless body of the wiry, grey-tan mul, covering the legs.
  
  Sea's Edge [NESW]
     The wind sweeps around this sandy shore, marking the beginning of the
  Sea of Eternal Dust.  A vast expanse of silt spreads outward.  The dust from
  the sea rises up into the air with the slightest breeze, caking whatever it
  lands on with a thin layer.  Only a tiny amount of light from the darkened
  sky pierces the thick clouds of dust hanging in the air.  The sand shifts
  and moves easily, and would obviously be difficult, if not perilous, to walk
  on.  
     To the south, a wooden dock is barely visible through the continually
  swirling haze.  
  The headless body of the wiry, grey-tan mul lies crumpled here, half buried in sand.
  A silt-colored kank stands here clacking its pincers.
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak is standing here.
  
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak leans back down using his dusty bone-handled, obsidian hawkblade to settle more sand over the headless body of the wiry, grey-tan mul.
  
  You arrange the headless body of the wiry, grey-tan mul.
  Shown to the room as:
  The headless body of the wiry, grey-tan mul lies crumpled here, buried nearly entirely in the sands.
  
  Sea's Edge [NESW]
     The wind sweeps around this sandy shore, marking the beginning of the
  Sea of Eternal Dust.  A vast expanse of silt spreads outward.  The dust from
  the sea rises up into the air with the slightest breeze, caking whatever it
  lands on with a thin layer.  Only a tiny amount of light from the darkened
  sky pierces the thick clouds of dust hanging in the air.  The sand shifts
  and moves easily, and would obviously be difficult, if not perilous, to walk
  on.  
     To the south, a wooden dock is barely visible through the continually
  swirling haze.  
  The headless body of the wiry, grey-tan mul lies crumpled here, buried nearly entirely in the sands.
  A silt-colored kank stands here clacking its pincers.
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak is standing here.
  
  Straightening up, brushing dust and sand from his hands, you say to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
       "Ruk should take him into the sea."
  
  Sea's Edge [NESW]
     The wind sweeps around this sandy shore, marking the beginning of the
  Sea of Eternal Dust.  A vast expanse of silt spreads outward.  The dust from
  the sea rises up into the air with the slightest breeze, caking whatever it
  lands on with a thin layer.  Only a tiny amount of light from the darkened
  sky pierces the thick clouds of dust hanging in the air.  The sand shifts
  and moves easily, and would obviously be difficult, if not perilous, to walk
  on.  
     To the south, a wooden dock is barely visible through the continually
  swirling haze.  
  The headless body of the wiry, grey-tan mul lies crumpled here, buried nearly entirely in the sands.
  A silt-colored kank stands here clacking its pincers.
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak is standing here.
  
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak nods slowly, watching the wind drift the sand over the headless body of the wiry, grey-tan mul.
  
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak jumps up onto a silt-colored kank's back.
  
  Sea's Edge [NESW]
     The wind sweeps around this sandy shore, marking the beginning of the
  Sea of Eternal Dust.  A vast expanse of silt spreads outward.  The dust from
  the sea rises up into the air with the slightest breeze, caking whatever it
  lands on with a thin layer.  Only a tiny amount of light from the darkened
  sky pierces the thick clouds of dust hanging in the air.  The sand shifts
  and moves easily, and would obviously be difficult, if not perilous, to walk
  on.  
     To the south, a wooden dock is barely visible through the continually
  swirling haze.  
  The headless body of the wiry, grey-tan mul lies crumpled here, buried nearly entirely in the sands.
  A silt-colored kank stands here, carrying the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak on his back.
  
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "Thank you friend, lets get back to town before a storm breaks out or the sea feels like taking us."
  
  You nod to him.
  
  
  ..the pair head back to town.
  
  
  The immense, jet-striped half-giant pauses, turning to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak.
  
  The tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak clicks once towards a silt-colored kank looking towards you.
  
  Palming his clean-shaven head, you say to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
       "Krok is tired and sad for your friend."
  
  Lifting his chin, deep brown eyes glittering, you say to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
       "I hope the sea finds him."
  
  A silt-colored kank makes a bleating noise and moves its head from side to side.
  
  Nodding, the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "And my journey is still not at an end, I have to go to his tribe and family to deliever his swords and the news. My name is Rychque if you ever need anything friend."
  
  Jaw agape for a moment, you ask the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
       "Rych.. k.. what?"
  
  Chuckling softly, the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "Ah, Slip will do fine then."
  
  Beaming a brightl smile, you say to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
       "Slip. Easy to say."
  
  
  Waving to the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak, you exclaim, in sirihish:
       "Bye Slip! Luck of the spice!"
  
  
  Waving, the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
       "Shade to you friend."
  
  A silt-colored kank walks north, carrying the tiny and gaunt figure in a dusty rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak on his back.
  
  You sling a bloodied massive, spiked club across your back.
  
  You think:
       "Did a good thing, and kept some things for Master Oban."
  
  The immense, jet-striped half-giant glances at a tregil-carved wooden chest surreptitiously, grinning.
  
  You think:
       "For Oban."
  
  Slumping against the wall, wrappings his arms around his legs, you sit down and rest your tired bones.
  
  Come back soon!
  
  
  

  Our hero, Krok, is going about business as usual - clearing the road from Red Storm to Allanak of pesky scrabs and beetles. Another normal day, until..
  
  Windy Plains [NESW]
     A strong wind out of the south is the prevailing force on these plains,
  and it has left its mark. The ground here is...
  Continue Reading...