Original Submissions containing 'view' of type 'Logs'
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The Grey Hunt - Part 3 by Adhira
Added on Mar 4, 2016The winner is finally announced.
Scene: The Silverwood Estate
Event: The Grey Hunt Announcement
Note: Staff view of thinks and feels has been left in to enhance the scene.
<! As seen by Amos/Malik and his alter ego-->
Someone thinks:
"Hmm."
<< The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar feels curious. >>
The spangled-blond, muscular woman snakes her way through the crowd.
The short, dusky woman thinks:
"What the fuck?"
With a swift glane, the scruffy, brown-haired youth looks at the spangled-blond, muscular woman .
The pearl-haired Lirathan templar begins guarding the tall, muscular man.
The svelte, top-knotted woman glances to the freckled, light-skinned man then back up to the stage in confusion and alarm.
The short-haired, jade-eyed Lirathan templar begins guarding the tall, muscular man.
One eye narrowed, the sinewy, weather-worn man looks down at the spangled-blond, muscular woman.
The tiny, reed-like Jihaen templar begins guarding the tall, muscular man.
The very short and thick male wearing a bloodied runic, fire-scorched mask looks up at the tall, muscular man.
[[You get the strangest impression that the tall, muscular man is actually growing taller.]]
<< The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette feels absolutely confused. >>
The willowy, grey-streaked man thinks:
"What the fuck?"
The freckled, light-skinned man thinks:
"What the fuck?"
The willowy, grey-streaked man looks at the tall, muscular man.
The stocky, clean-shaven man thinks:
"This is..."
Tilting her head, the dusky, sorrel-curled woman looks up at the tall, muscular man.
Slowly, the short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales tilts her head to the side.
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"What the... fuck is happening."
The stout, heavily-scarred dwarf looks up at the tall, muscular man.
The short, dusky woman thinks:
"What.. what.. what.. what?"
The sinewy, weather-worn man 's eyes widen as he watches.
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar swallows hard, her eyes growing wide.
Squinting quizzically, the lofty, cunyati-tanned man looks down at the spangled-blond, muscular woman.
The stocky, clean-shaven man's jaw drops open, slowly.
The skeletal, dark-skinned Jihaen templar begins guarding the tall, muscular man.
The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar's gaze drifts to the spangled-blond, muscular woman a look of realization coming over him.
The sinewy, bald-headed man reaches over, grabbing the scruffy, brown-haired youth's elbow, with a firm hand.
The spangled-blond, muscular woman takes a step back.
The grey-haired, fiery-eyed woman tilts her head as she watches.
Squinting quizzically, the lofty, cunyati-tanned man looks at the tall, muscular man.
With a furrowing of his brow, the trim, ashen-skinned man looks up at the tall, muscular man.
The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar thinks:
"That is His Radiance?"
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette stares wide-eyed at the tall, muscular man.
The willowy, grey-streaked man thinks:
"No."
Without even seeming to realize it, the short, dusky woman clutches the stocky, clean-shaven man's arm, staring at the tall, muscular man.
Eyes narrowing, the swarthy, aging man looks up at the tall, muscular man.
The pockmarked, well-toned man swallows, watching the tall, muscular man.
The dusky, sorrel-curled woman's breath catches.
The scruffy, brown-haired youth's eyes widen noticeably and without a thought he seeks to spring forward but is held in check by the sinewy, bald-headed man.
<< The short, fire-blackened woman feels utterly fucking gobsmacked. >>
Adjusting her wig, the robust, coppery-curled teen looks up at the spangled-blond, muscular woman.
Under his breath, the willowy, grey-streaked man says, in southern-accented sirihish:
"No."
The chubby, brown-haired man's eyes widen, watching.
Curiously as he glances between him and the skeletal, dark-skinned Jihaen templar, the sinewy, obsidian-haired man looks up at the tall, muscular man.
The shaggy-haired, sun-branded man reaches up to touch his forehead, mouth agape as he looks at the tall, muscular man.
[[The unremarkable features of the tall, muscular man become more defined, and his complexion takes on a remarkably healthy luster.]]
The willowy, brown-haired young man frowns broadly, pushing himself to his feet very quickly.
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar goes to one knee before the tall, muscular man, her head bowed to the ground.
The willowy, brown-haired young man stands up from a long wooden bench.
The pockmarked, well-toned man thinks:
"What's going on?"
The spangled-blond, muscular woman's expression shifts from concern to puzzlement.
Mouth falling open and food falling out, the freckled, light-skinned man eats his small portion of a baguette of brown bread.
The trim, ashen-skinned man thinks:
"What the fuck..."
The stocky, clean-shaven man quickly removes his hand from beneath his cloak, empty, his eyes wide.
The short, dusky woman thinks:"What.. what.. wh.."
The very short and thick male wearing a bloodied runic, fire-scorched mask thinks:
"Muk...no way."
The shaggy-haired, sun-branded man stands up from a long wooden bench.
The freckled, light-skinned man stands up from a long, white painted table.
[[Beneath his brows, the tall, muscular man's eyes seem to grow darker, yet strangely clearer and more compelling.]]
The sinewy, weather-worn man thinks:
"He's growin' huge!"
You notice the robust, coppery-curled teen glancing at the robust, coppery-curled teen .
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"Dang, who is this guy, and... well, if the Faithful are bowin' to him, guess I sure will."
On her knee in the grass, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar watches the tall, muscular man in wonder.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman watches the tall, muscular man, enraptured, frozen in place.
[[The tall, muscular man's hair twines itself into numerous braids, no longer mousy in appearance but taking on a lustrous red hue.]]
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar thinks:
"Is it... could it be...?"
The trim, ashen-skinned man thinks:
"Who..the Krath.."
Chewing at her thumbnail, the robust, coppery-curled teen looks up at the tall, muscular man.
The freckled, light-skinned man glances towards the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar, then back to the tall, muscular man.
Blinking rapidly, the curvy, jallal-tressed maiden looks up at the tall, muscular man.
The stocky, clean-shaven man drops down to both knees before the tall, muscular man.
The shaggy-haired, sun-branded man kneels, falling forward onto his chest, arms outstretched above him as he presses his face into the grass.
The freckled, light-skinned man thinks:
"Oh, fuck."
<< The earthy, sienna-maned woman feels a bolt of high reverence. >>
The freckled, light-skinned man thinks:
"Utep??"
His mouth agape the ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar watches the tall, muscular man in astonishment.
The trim, ashen-skinned man looks at the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar then widens his eyes back at the tall, muscular man.
Feeling abject shock, the swarthy, aging man thinks:
"No way... No way under Krath..."
<< The spangled-blond, muscular woman feels your heart beat faster, pounding between her ribs. >>
His eyes narrowing, as he watches him, the sinewy, bald-headed man looks up at the tall, muscular man.
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden thinks:
"What the...?"
The sinewy, weather-worn man's jaw drops as he watches the tall, muscular man, his attention fixed.
The willowy, brown-haired young man shoves his way through the crowd until he reaches the lanky, indigo-tressed woman, arm reaching slowly over his right shoulder.
<< The short, fire-blackened woman feels utterly astounded, every muscle frozen and tensed. >>
The freckled, light-skinned man falls to both knees, lowering his head quickly.
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man glances from side to side, a bit confused, and follows suit with the templars, falling to his knees in deference to the tall, muscular man... though still completely mystified, by all appearances.
The very short and thick male wearing a bloodied runic, fire-scorched mask thinks:
"Well fucken shit...guess he ain't some old wrinkled fart in a pyramid after all."
The shaggy-haired, sun-branded man thinks:
"My King... I bask in Your Gloriousness."
The chubby, brown-haired man moves to his feet, watching.
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden fiddles around in disbelief, her body teeming with energy but her mind obviously confused.
Having sunk to her knees in shock and wonder, the short, dusky woman stares, mouth open, then lowers her eyes.
This large man towers at least eight feet above the ground, much larger
and taller than most other men. From his head, crimson braids, the color of
wet blood upon a battlefield, cascade down his massive, muscular back. His
features appear to be the work of some master sculptor, where every nuance
must be pleasing and familiar to the eye, the flat planes of his face
chiseled and stern, yet personable and illuminated with perfect health. His
tan skin almost seems to glow with a brilliant light, and his dark eyes seem
to be filled with endless depths of wisdom, knowledge, and humor regarding
all they survey.
The immense, crimson-braided man is in excellent condition.
<worn around neck> a sunburst decorated silk shoulder-cape
<slung across back> an old runed, ivory-hilted steel greatsword
<worn on torso> a loose tunic of white silk
<worn around wrist> a ruby-set silver bracelet
<worn on right finger> a bejewelled golden ring
<worn on left finger> a ruby-jeweled golden ring
<worn as belt> a white and flame-red silk scarf
<worn on legs> a pair of white silk pantaloons
<worn on feet> a pair of silver-toed leather boots
The trim, ashen-skinned man thinks:
"SHIT! IS HE GOING TO ATTACK?!"
Blinking rapidly, the stout, heavily-scarred dwarf stands up from a long wooden bench.
Peering over the crowd as some drop to their knees, the extremely short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales stands up from a long wooden bench.
Following suit with the crowd to kneel, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette sits down.
[[Now towering above the tallest human, the immense, crimson-braided man's physique is imposing despite his relaxed posture.]]
The scruffy, brown-haired youth looks up at you.
<< The lofty, cunyati-tanned man feels amazement. >>
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"Krath, could it actually be Him?"
<< The trim, ashen-skinned man feels worried about Paryl attacking the man...what might be Muk. >>
The willowy, grey-streaked man looks up at you.
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden thinks:
"Is it...? I mean, could it be...?"
The freckled, light-skinned man sits down.
Tugging at his arm, the sinewy, bald-headed man whispers something to the scruffy, brown-haired outh .
For just a moment, then quickly tearing her gaze away, the extremely short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales looks up at you.
The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar drops to a knee immediatly.
Sucking in air, the trim, ashen-skinned man looks up at you.
The spangled-blond, muscular woman thinks:
"I don't understand"
The pockmarked, well-toned man shakes his head slowly, quickly sliding from a long wooden bench to fall to his knees.
As he slowly takes a knee, the sinewy, bald-headed man looks up at you.
The scruffy, brown-haired youth kneels suddenly.
Mouth hanging open, the swarthy, aging man looks up at you.
With a just a brief raise of her eyes, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette looks up at you.
Silently, her hands trembling, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar watches you silently.
Falling to a respectful kneel as though forcefully tugged to the ground, the extremely short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales sits down to rest.
Falling to a knee beside her chair, the svelte, top-knotted woman sits down.
The extremely short male wearing a bloodied runic, fire-scorched mask looks up at you.
Jaw falling slack, the dusky, sorrel-curled woman looks up at you.
Forgoing staying on his knees, the freckled, light-skinned man just completely prostrates himself.
Glancing up carefully, the shaggy-haired, sun-branded man looks up at you.
The willowy, grey-streaked man's jaw drops and he just stares at you, standing among the kneeling crowd.
The short, lithe young man stands up from a long wooden bench.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman drops to both knees, posture rigid as she... stares up at you.
After a moment of looking around, the curvy, jallal-tressed maiden drops herself to the floor and places her head to the ground, mumbling incoherently.
The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar thinks:
"He has graced us with His Presence."
Just..... staring, the short, dusky woman looks up at you.
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden sits down.
The sinewy, weather-worn man's attention snaps to the side in surprise and then quickly falls to one knee.
The trim, ashen-skinned man thinks:
"Fuck no."
The immense, crimson-braided man stands on the stage, folding his arms over his massive chest as he looks out at the crowd.
The sinewy, obsidian-haired man gasps for a moment, his thick carru and cheese sandwich falling from his mouth to land on his lap, before falling forward on his knee afterward.
The willowy, brown-haired young man blinks quickly and hesitantly drops to one knee.
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden looks up at you.
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"What is going on?!"
The sinewy, weather-worn man sits down.
The freckled, light-skinned man thinks:
"Sun King! I had no idea!"
The scruffy, brown-haired youth hangs his head low, knelt beside the sinewy, bald-headed man, silent and unmoving, his eyes widened in disbelief.
The extremely short male wearing a bloodied runic, fire-scorched mask chuckles quietly and slaps a long wooden bench.
The spangled-blond, muscular woman sinks to her knees slowly.
The stout, heavily-scarred dwarf drops slowly to a knee, gazing about in surprise.
His attention completely set upon you, the lofty, cunyati-tanned man looks up at you.
Jaw dropping, the robust, coppery-curled teen looks up at you.
Only briefly daring to look up, the svelte, top-knotted woman looks up at you.
The trim, ashen-skinned man gives another awe filled look at you then slowly lowers to one knee.
The short, lithe young man hurries to kneel.
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden thinks:
"Look at-- is it-- no, I don't-- He would-- no no-- what?"
A tear touching the corner of her eyes, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar averts her gaze from you.
<< The swarthy, aging man feels fear. >>
The swarthy, aging man thinks:
"Krath shade us, and may we shelter in the lee of Whira's fury!"
The grey-haired, fiery-eyed woman rises to her feet and bows respectfully to you, her eyes wide.
The sinewy, obsidian-haired man looks up at you.
<< The ethereal, fair-haired woman feels ... utterly... at... a... loss... >>
Turning his eyes up briefly, the sinewy, weather-worn man looks up at you.
The shaggy-haired, sun-branded man thinks:
"And here... here is the source of the Light. This is what I have fought my entire life for. My life is yours, Your Gloriousness, should you require it."
The short, lithe young man looks up at you.
<< The trim, ashen-skinned man feels impressed, so damn impressed. >>
<< The ethereal, fair-haired woman feels stunned >>
[[You feel an upwelling of joy and happiness in the immense man's presence.]]
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden stares at you for a moment and then quickly lowers her eyes, mumbling soft prayers.
The spangled-blond, muscular woman looks up at you.
<< The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar feels your heart expand to bursting. >>
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar thinks:
"It is Him~ He is here... what an incredible honor."
Eyes darting upwards briefly, then quickly returning to the ground, the stout, heavily-scarred dwarf looks up at you.
<< The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette feels utterly astonished and quite frightened. >>
<< The stocky, clean-shaven man feels completely voiceless. >>
The trim, ashen-skinned man sucks in air as he shudders.
Takinig a deep breath, the chubby, brown-haired man looks up at you.
The freckled, light-skinned man thinks:
"Sun King! I..."
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"Dang, dang, dang, fuckin' shit. This is intense."
The willowy, brown-haired young man scans the crowd, brow knitted in confusion, and allows himself a brief glance at you with squinted eyes.
His eyes misting the ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar raises his gaze looking serenly at you.
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"Who is he?"
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"I feel so..."
Sliding limply off a long wooden bench to his knees, the swarthy, aging man stands up from a long wooden bench.
The trim, ashen-skinned man thinks:
"He's fuckin' real!"
The pockmarked, well-toned man smiles, closing his eyes as his face points down to the ground.
The willowy, grey-streaked man stares at you, wide-eyed, his entire body trembling.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman thinks:
"... Thank you..."
Her eyes touched by joyful tears, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar looks up at you.
Her breathing steadying, the curvy, jallal-tressed maiden looks up at you and then away, and then back, and then away, a tear dripping over her tattooed one.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman thinks:
"... Thank... you."
An odd, strangled little laugh croaks from the extremely short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales 's throat.
<< The freckled, light-skinned man feels exceptionally awed in the presence of his Sun King. >>
[[A sense of well-being settles over you at the perfection of the crimson-braided man's appearance.]]
<< The extremely short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales feels happy, suddenly, HAPPY, for no reason at all. >>
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette reaches up to pull at the willowy, grey-streaked man 's arm.
<< The lofty, cunyati-tanned man feels an unusual swelling of hope. >>
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"Hope he doesn't notice you? No - hope he -does-."
The scruffy, brown-haired youth's breathing quickens, a broad smile, though hesitant, crashing onto his youthful features. He can do nothing but kneel silently, wide eyed gaze staring into the ground before him.
The pockmarked, well-toned man thinks:
"I can't believe it..."
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar thinks:
"He is so handsome!"
Muttering it out quickly, the dusky, sorrel-curled woman exclaims, in tribal-accented bendune:
"Blessed Utep!"
The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar thinks:
"I am honored to be here, he has graced us. This feeling is greater than I have ever imagined."
The freckled, light-skinned man thinks:
"No shit."
The willowy, grey-streaked man bats the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette 's hand away, staring at you.
<< The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden feels utmost joy. >>
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden thinks:
"This is-- it's-- He's-- it really must-- He is--"
The shaggy-haired, sun-branded man takes a deep breath as tears begin to roll down his cheeks, his breath ragged for a moment.
The willowy, brown-haired young man inhales slowly and deeply, a smile gradually broadening over his face.
The pockmarked, well-toned man thinks:
"I've been in HIS presence..."
<< The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar feels your senses reeling with joy and disbelief. >>
The short, lithe young man shivers visibly, his gaze locked on the floor.
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"I have no idea why I feel this way, who is this man?"
The robust, coppery-curled teen wipes at her eyes as she glances at you in apparent awe.
The extremely short male wearing a bloodied runic, fire-scorched mask nods as if to himself.
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette tugs on the willowy, grey-streaked man 's arm again in an attempt to pull him down next to her.
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden's body shivers as tears stream down her face, making a noise torn between a sob and a laugh.
With a trembling hand the svelte, top-knotted woman smears away a moist sheen from her face.
The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar thinks:
"His Radiance cannot be denied, all will know, all must know. His wisdom, his guidance is always with us."
The trim, ashen-skinned man lifts his gaze to you, mouth slowly opening without a sound.
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar thinks:
"He is.. perfection... He is everything... He is older than -time-."
The dusky, sorrel-curled woman thinks:
"Die today, in perfection."
The ethereal, fair-haired woman thinks:
"Please..."
Unfolding his arms, you say, in sirihish:
"My people! I have come before you as I once walked amongst you."
<< The lofty, cunyati-tanned man feels a sudden twist of black humour. >>
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"And I suppose these southerners now know we were right the whole fuckin' time."
The stocky, clean-shaven man thinks:
".... and I'm kneeling right before him."
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden thinks:
"I just-- is it-- can I-- oh my!"
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"I wonder what they're going to report when they get home?"
Tears begin streaming down the ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar's face as he remains transfixed on you, remaining prostrate.
The chubby, brown-haired man moves to kneel at your words.
The chubby, brown-haired man sits down.
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"...hey, I even think my hangover's gone."
The spangled-blond, muscular woman blink slowly one hand rising to press against her chest over her heart, mouth still hanging open.
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"I am, I am!"
The willowy, grey-streaked man screams, a strangled, joyous, betrayed sound, as he falls to his knees next to the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette .
On her knees, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar watches you in rapt silence, her expression glowing.
The scruffy, brown-haired youth 's jaw drops slightly at you's speech, not daring to lift his gentle browns to the man's perfect form.
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden lifts her eyes slightly to you, and then turns them. They become a center of activity, shifting from looking at to looking away from you.
Trembling, but seemingly not in fear, the svelte, top-knotted woman looks up at you.
[[The presence and magnetism of the crimson-braided man is so intense you feel that you would follow him anywhere.]]
Looking down at those gathered with a benevolent smile, you say, in sirihish:
"Over these past hours I have drunk wine with you, I have eaten with you, and now, together we shall rejoice."
The willowy, brown-haired young man forces himself down lower on his knee, face tucked into his chest.
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette pulls the willowy, grey-streaked man against her as she visibly trembles.
<< The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette feels adoration and wonder. >>
The spindly, grey-haired man bends over, knees to the ground and face held down in reverence.
<< The trim, ashen-skinned man feels an elaborate elation flowing through you. >>
The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar thinks:
"Paryl cannot deny it, no one can deny it. His Radiance is so beautiful, it blinds."
<< The extremely short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales feels a strange wash of odd, affectionate adoration from seemingly nowhere, causing her throat to tighten. >>
The willowy, grey-streaked man's hand moves to the jade cross hanging from his neck and he begins tugging compulsively at it, eyes transfixed on you.
The trim, ashen-skinned man stares at you with a slightly quivering lower lip.
[[Your growing adoration for the immense man begins to outstrip your love for any other living being.]]
Deadly silent, but trembling with energy, the curvy, jallal-tressed maiden lowers her head as the tears stream hotly, but with joy.
The robust, coppery-curled teen trembles as tears glisten on her round face.
<< The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar feels like reeling and reeling. >>
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar thinks:
"What a gift he has given us with His presence!"
His breathing quick and shallow, as one on the verge of tears, the scruffy, brown-haired youth makes a concerted attempt to steel himself, his youthful features quivering with untold happiness, though there this is the faintest tick of
confusion to his brows.
The dusky, sorrel-curled woman reaches out exposed fingertips toward you.
The chubby, brown-haired man thinks:
"Krath...krath...krath...krath..."
The short, lithe young man inhales shakily, seeming to struggle internally with himself.
The sinewy, weather-worn man squeezes his eyes shut and holds his head low.
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"This is... this is such a weird... keep your wits about you, Bryn. That southerner looks like he's going to lose his shit."
The chubby, brown-haired man blinks rappidly, watching you with adoration.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman thinks:
"... Please... stay with us..."
His hand motioning towards the short, dusky woman and the stocky, clean-shaven man , you say, in sirihish:
"These two stand here as the last to compete for the right to join myChosen ."
The spangled-blond, muscular woman's trembling hand rises slowly from her heart to her lips.
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar squeezes her eyes closed, wiping a tear from her cheek before swallowing hard, once again, lifting a brilliant smile to the pearl-haired Lirathan templar.
As it slides from his limp fingers, the swarthy, aging man stops using his smoothly carved black pipe.
The stocky, clean-shaven man picks his head up in wonderment, still kneeling before you.
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"Oh, for the chance to be one of those two!"
The swarthy, aging man drops a smoothly carved black pipe.
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden thinks:
"Am I... dreaming? Is this...?"
The shaggy-haired, sun-branded man reaches to unbuckle the straps of his breastplate, the many brands of rising suns covering his skin displayed.
The extremely short male wearing a bloodied runic, fire-scorched mask taps his chin.
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette lifts her head to gaze openly, wide-eyed, apparently completely entranced with you.
The sinewy, obsidian-haired man takes in a deep breath as he focuses on you, staring directly towards him, his chest straightened proudly.
The trim, ashen-skinned man thinks:
"Krath, I just can't believe it."
The short, lithe young man trembles heavily as he lifts his hands to his head. He digs his fingers into his hair, yanking roughly.
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"Why was I born so... my thoughts aren't even worthy in this man's presence."
Hastily pulling them off to kiss the back of her hands, the curvy, jallal-tressed maiden stops using her pair of white silk gloves, revealing a tattoo of a six-pronged star.
<< The extremely short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales feels on the verge of tears. >>
Face damp with tears, the short, dusky woman gazes wordlessly at you, lips parted in amazement.
Turning slightly on his heel to face the pair, you say, in sirihish:
"Worthy contestants both, but only one shall be joining the ranks of those most favored. Only one shall I choose."
<< The lofty, cunyati-tanned man feels forced and difficult determination. >>
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"Not... lettin'... anything ruin this. Eyes on the southerners. Make sure they don't go nutso. Gotta... gotta keep useful."
You unsling an old runed, ivory-hilted steel greatsword from your back.
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"This is the zenith of my life, I shall remember this day forever."
The scruffy, brown-haired youth steals the briefest glance up towards you before quickly averting his eyes, his head shaking in disbelief, feathers and beads flying in unison. His broad and childish smile is uncontrollable.
<< The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar feels like you cannot bring your attention away to answer her. >>
<< The stocky, clean-shaven man feels like even if the Sun King cut him in two with that sword, it'd be the happiest moment of his life. >>
The trim, ashen-skinned man thinks:
"Krath, he's fuckin' beautiful."
The pockmarked, well-toned man opens his eyes, staring down at the ground as he smiles brightly.
The immense, crimson-braided man holds your old runed, ivory-hilted steel greatsword up high above one shoulder, twisting his body slightly as he makes a move to bring it slashing down towards the stocky, clean-shaven man's neck.
Trembling, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar silently watches, her eyes widening.
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette gasps as she watches the sword swing.
[[The steel of the immense, crimson-braided man's sword gleams brightly despite its apparent age.]]
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden holds a hand over her mouth as she watches your sword.
The short, lithe young man thinks:
"No! Mother! Zak! Valin!!!"
The stocky, clean-shaven man goes stiff, eyes squeezing shut.
The short, dusky woman jolts, as if to throw herself toward the stocky, clean-shaven man in protection, a reflexive movement.
The dusky, sorrel-curled woman clutches her ruby crystal pyramid tightly in her hand.
The freckled, light-skinned man lifts his gaze slightly from his position on the ground, coming to a kneeling position finally.
The scruffy, brown-haired youth's gaze lifts once more at the sound of swinging steel.
The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar's mouth drops agape as he watches you, frozen still.
[[ As he grips the sword, the crystal imbedded in the pommel begins to glow deep red, like the bloody horizon at sunrise.]]
Eyes wide the svelte, top-knotted woman's trembling hands cup her agape mouth.
The sinewy, weather-worn man's breath quickens as he opens his eyes, locking his gaze on the stocky, clean-shaven man.
As the sword comes to an abrupt halt inches from the stocky, clean-shaven man's neck, you ask, in sirihish:
"Rokov Kurac, do you renounce all that you have been. Do you commit yourself to my service, to walk the streets of the Ivory as myChosen ?"
[[The pommel's crystal appears to throb with light, as if in time with a heartbeat.]]
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden thinks:
"ROKOV!"
<< The swarthy, aging man feels your pulse quickening. >>
The trim, ashen-skinned man stares at the crystal in the sword, eyes transfixed, gaze trailing from it to the stocky, clean-shaven man.
<< The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar feels your heart grow calm and still. >>
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar thinks:
"The Sun King speaks."
The freckled, light-skinned man thinks:
"You...Sun King, you heard my plea!"
The dusky, sorrel-curled woman thinks:
"I DO!"
The chubby, brown-haired man's holds his breath, watching.
The stocky, clean-shaven man opens his eyes, and then lifts his head, his mouth opening next, though no words escape.
The trim, ashen-skinned man thinks:
"Sweet merciful... It's all real."
<< The stocky, clean-shaven man feels completely, utterly, shocked. >>
<< The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar feels your heart go out to Thiza. >>
<< The extremely short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales feels like one or two drops of pee might have come out. >>
The stocky, clean-shaven man thinks:
"... gotta.. gotta say something. Just say yes."
The scruffy, brown-haired youth blinks rapidly, a quick glance drifting aside towards the short, dusky woman. His brows knit heavily for the quickest of moments.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman thinks:
"... It was Him..."
[[The glowing crystal shifts to a warmer, brighter red, like the glare of Suk-Krath at .]]
His voice awed, breathless, the stocky, clean-shaven man says to you, in sirihish:
"I.. I do."
<< The stocky, clean-shaven man feels completely certain. >>
The spangled-blond, muscular woman's hand travels from her mouth to reach out tentatively toward you, as if to touch you across the span of feet between her and the stage. Her outstretched and quivers like a bow-string.
The extremely short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales shifts slightly where she kneels.
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"Not... going to just... cry my eyes out feelin' happy... gotta... gotta stay useful."
Touching the heavy metal sword down on the stocky, clean-shaven man 's shoulder, you say to the stocky, clean-shaven man , in sirihish:
"From this day till your end you are Chosen Lord Rokov, winner of my great hunt. "
[[ The faces of those nearby are bathed in the warm glow of light from the crimson-braided man's sword.]]
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette gazes transfixed, reverently, at you.
The stocky, clean-shaven man bows his head again, letting out a weak gasp.
The trim, ashen-skinned man exhales softly, serenely, the glow of the crystal casting over his face as he watches.
The trim, ashen-skinned man thinks:
"Amazin'... Just... fuckin' amazin'."
The dusky, sorrel-curled woman's hands tremble.
With a benign smile, her eyes shining proudly, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar looks at the stocky, clean-shaven man.
<< The extremely short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales feels a warmth rush over her face, beneath her mask. >>
The svelte, top-knotted woman eyes squint in the glow of the radiating light.
Lifting the sword up from the stocky, clean-shaven man's shoulder, you say to the stocky, clean-shaven man, in sirihish:
"Do you choose to elevate a consort Chosen Lord Rokov."
His face alight with a gentle glow, the scruffy, brown-haired youth's brows quiver with the intensity of the moment.
The chubby, brown-haired man thinks:
"Krath..."
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden lets out a little sound, the light shining over her tear-moistened face.
The freckled, light-skinned man thinks:
"...ah..."
<< The swarthy, aging man feels numb. >>
The swarthy, aging man thinks:
"SweetKrathSweetKrathSweetKrathSweetKrath..."
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden thinks:
"There's no way he'd pick me.. he doesn't even know me..."
You notice: One of the short, dusky woman 's hands curls tightly into a fist, eyes shutting.
Simply, the extremely short male wearing a bloodied runic, fire-scorched mask whispers something to the extremely short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales.
<< The spangled-blond, muscular woman feels your mind a total blank, thought chased by the power of the emotional pull toward him. >>
The chubby, brown-haired man's eyes flick briefly towards the short, dusky woman before returning to you.
Looking up, once again, his face tear-streaked, the stocky, clean-shaven man says to you, in sirihish:
"I... if it pleases you... I would take..."
Watching the proceedings silently, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar bows her head with a deep smile.
The extremely short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales offers a shallow nod to the extremely short male wearing a bloodied runic, fire-scorched mask .
The extremely short male wearing a bloodied runic, fire-scorched mask's blue gaze returns to the stage.
Seeming to find a bit of his voice, finally, as he finishes, the stocky, clean-shaven man says to you, in sirihish:
"... I would take Jisiu al Azia, of the Muark, as my consort."
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette gasps and puts a hand to her jade and ebony cross.
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar thinks:
"Who?"
Breathing heavily, the curvy, jallal-tressed maiden watches the stocky, clean-shaven man and then the short, dusky woman.
Tearing it off, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette stops using her jade and ebony cross.
The short, dusky woman puts a hand to her mouth, tears escaping her eyes, though she blinks swiftly against them.
The extremely short male wearing a bloodied runic, fire-scorched mask stifles a cough.
The scruffy, brown-haired youth's gaze locks upon the short, dusky woman , brows drooping in a pleading expression, deep concern evident for the faintest of moments before the aura of you consumes him once more, eyes falling to the ground before him.
<< The ethereal, fair-haired woman feels haltingly, dizzingly. >>
The ethereal, fair-haired woman thinks:
"... Kurac... and a Muark..."
The willowy, grey-streaked man cries out, tearing his jade and ebony cross from his throat by way of snapping the leather cord around his neck.
Voice rumbling in his chest, you say to the short, dusky woman, in sirihish:
"Chosen Consort Jisiu, find your place by your Chosen Lord's side."
The willowy, grey-streaked man stops using his jade and ebony cross.
The trim, ashen-skinned man smiles silently as he watches you then shifts his gaze to the ethereal, fair-haired woman and the short, dusky woman.
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"Oh, shit... tossin' her Tek mark? I mean, obviously anyone would... s'the right decision... but it's gonna set that other one off. I know it. He's gonna lose his..."
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"Well, fancy that. He did it too..."
The svelte, top-knotted woman looks up at the short, dusky woman.
The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar thinks:
"He has done what is best for the Ivory."
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar thinks:
"The southron cannot bear his presence."
Slowly rising, his head still held low in reverance to you, the ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar stands up.
Adoring eyes still fixed on you, the willowy, grey-streaked man clutches his jade and ebony cross in a closed fist before dropping it to the ground.
<< The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette feels a terrible mixture of love for Muk and a sickening sense of betrayal of Allanak. >>
[[The faces of the stocky, clean-shaven man and the short, dusky woman flicker in the light cast from your sword.]]
The willowy, grey-streaked man drops a jade and ebony cross.
The short, dusky woman swallows, lifting her eyes to you for the briefest of moments, then bows her head humbly, reverently.
<< The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar feels astonished. >>
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar thinks:
"The southron... oh, Muk Utep!"
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar thinks:
"Muk Utep, thank you."
Breathlessly, the short, dusky woman says, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Gladly. I will."
Shaking terribly, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette stares at you.
The chubby, brown-haired man's features relax, a proud smile upon his face.
The sinewy, obsidian-haired man gasps with his mouth wide open, staring towards you, briefly stealing a quick glance towards the stocky, clean-shaven man before turning back to you.
<< The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden feels somehow whole. >>
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden thinks:
"All those selfish thoughts..."
<< The extremely short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales feels utterly uninterested in answering the bronzed, angular humanoid. >>
The scruffy, brown-haired youth turns his gaze aside to the knelt form of the sinewy, bald-headed man, a questioning and pleading look dancing upon his brows and in his eyes.
Pumping his arm in the air, his sword lofted high above, you exclaim, in sirihish:
"Citizens! Join me as we welcome my newestChosen !"
<< The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar feels your heart growing strong, the sense of love the reverence for the immense, crimson-braided man. >>
The freckled, light-skinned man thinks: "I...I..."
The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar unslings a double-tassled steel-bladed staff from his back.
The short, dusky woman looks both horrified and reverent at once, eyes wide.
The freckled, light-skinned man thinks:
"I made the right choice!"
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar stands, calling out a hearty cheer, a fist in the air.
The willowy, brown-haired young man forces his knee into the ground further, wiping sweat off his brow as he holds his gaze downward.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman's eyes close. When she opens them, it is with a smile as she slips two fingers into her mouth and whistles shrilly for the short, dusky woman and the stocky, clean-shaven man .
The freckled, light-skinned man claps his hands solidly, lifting his gaze as tears stream down his face.
The chubby, brown-haired man moves to his feet, calling out loudly.
The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar raises his double-tassled steel-bladed staff in triumph as he looks to the stocky, clean-shaven man his eyes reddened.
The hulking, gurth-bellied half-giant soldier grins at the short, dusky woman and the stocky, clean-shaven man, hooting loudly.
Swiftly, the sinewy, weather-worn man stands up.
The trim, ashen-skinned man looks between the stocky, clean-shaven man and the short, dusky woman with a broad grin.
The svelte, top-knotted woman lets out a joyful cheer, applauding with trembling hands.
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden's eyes steal glances at you as she pushes to a stand, shouting incomprehensibly and pumping her fist into the air.
The dusky, sorrel-curled woman whistles loudly, her ruby crystal pyramid in her fingers.
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden stands up.
The swarthy, aging man's hands come together in a stuttered fashion, clapping hesitantly, then faster, faster.
The willowy, grey-streaked man clutches at the ground with his fingers, his shoulders shaking and body trembling.
The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar raises his double-tassled steel-bladed staff in triumph as he looks to the stocky, clean-shaven man and the short, dusky woman his eyes reddened.
Head tilting back, his braids swinging from his shoulders, you shout in sirihish:
"Tuluk!"
The trim, ashen-skinned man slowly pushes off the ground and raises his hands in applause as he straightens up.
The short, lithe young man rises shakily to his feet, gently applauding.
The stocky, clean-shaven man rises up to his feet, slowly, his tear-streaked face a mix of wonderment and pride as he reaches for the short, dusky woman's hand.
Raising a fist above his head, pumping it wildly, the stout, heavily-scarred dwarf exclaims, in sirihish:
"Chosen Lord Rokov!"
The sinewy, weather-worn man pumps his fist into the air, bellowing loudly.
Her voice trembling and joyous, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar exclaims, in sirihish:
"To the Sun King Muk Utep, and Chosen Lord Rokov!"
[[The crowd goes wild with adoration, faces everywhere upturned to you as thunderous applause breaks over the amphitheater.]]
<< The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette feels torn and wretched inside, as if her deepest loyalties are beseiged. >>
Shakily, as if not quite sure of her feet, the short, dusky woman rises, her breath rapid as she stares at the stocky, clean-shaven man.
The shaggy-haired, sun-branded man stands, spreading his arms wide as he leans back, emitting a long howl, a note of victory evident in his tone.
Cheering loudly as he gazes up back, the sinewy, obsidian-haired man exclaims, in sirihish:
"Hail the Sun King! Hail the newChosen !"Shill voice cracking with emotion, the spangled-blond, muscular woman shouts, in sirihish:
"Tuluk!"
The chubby, brown-haired man continues yelling with the crowd, fist pumping.
The willowy, brown-haired young man trembles on his knee as he grins fiercely and applauds vigorously.
The trim, ashen-skinned man continues pumping his fist into the air as he yells out over and over again.
Softly, as he speaks to the floor, the lofty, cunyati-tanned man says, in sirihish:
"Hail to His glory, and His power."
The immense, crimson-braided man lowers his sword, beaming at the crowd before dipping his head to the stocky, clean-shaven man.
Rough voice lifted ecstatically, the shaggy-haired, sun-branded man shouts, in sirihish:
"Tuluk! Glory to the Sun King! Glory toChosen Lord Rokov!"
[[The warm red aura surrounding the crimson-braided man seems to pulse and scintillate.]]
Along with the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar, the ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templarexclaims, in sirihish:
"Eternal is the Sun King, endless is His Wisdom!"
Lifting his voice amid all the cheers, the stocky, clean-shaven man exclaims, in sirihish:
"The Sun King Eternal!"
<< The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar feels as if the headiness is about to make you faint. >>
The grey-haired, fiery-eyed woman exclaims, in sirihish:
"Utep! Utep! SUN KING!"
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"I don't even know why I feel all of this excitement, but it is simply sweeping!"
Her voice barely above a whisper as she wipes her face, the curvy, jallal-tressed maiden exclaims, in sirihish:
"Eternal is the Sun King!"
Gently, you say to the stocky, clean-shaven man, in sirihish:
"You may join those friends in the crowd, Chosen Lord."
The willowy, grey-streaked man clutches at his jade and ebony cross like a lifeline, choking back joyous, reverent sobs.
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette breaks into a sobbing cry and tears spill onto her cheeks as she watches you.
Fiercely, the swarthy, aging man shouts, in an unfamiliar tongue:
"opbn ez ppj cco fiod! rpqqa ih pdhrfv ridb cnuir!"
His voice lost in the shouts, the pockmarked, well-toned man says, in sirihish:
"Hail t-t-t-... t-to the Sun K-... K-K-King."
Enthusiastically, the robust, coppery-curled teen shouts, in sirihish:
"Tuluk!"
The sinewy, weather-worn man hollers until his voice croaks and then quickly resumes, lifting both fists into the air.
<< The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette feels totally confused and torn. >>
The chubby, brown-haired man wipes at his eyes, continuing to cheer.
You sling an old runed, ivory-hilted steel greatsword across your back.
Pushing through the crowd to extend a hand, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar exclaims to the stocky, clean-shaven man , in sirihish:
"Chosen Lord Rokov, congratulations!"
[[You are caught up in a fervor of excitement and fascination with the immense man.]]
The pockmarked, well-toned man thinks:
"This is all... so much..."
Softly, arms dropping to her sides, the extremely short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales says, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"...Chosen Lord Rokov."
The stocky, clean-shaven man bows his head down low to you, then the rest of the Faithful nearby.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman clasps her hands together, holding them in front of her face as she watches the stocky, clean-shaven man and the short, dusky woman with incredulous devotion.
The svelte, top-knotted woman sobs joyously continuing to cheer.
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden somehow finds the ethereal, fair-haired woman in the crowd and leans against her back, sobbing with glee.
Voice breaking though the word is spoken softly, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says, in sirihish:
"Radiance! The Sun King."
Standing proudly back to his feet, shouting loudly, the sinewy, obsidian-haired man exclaims, in sirihish:
"The Sun King lives, glory to His City and His Chosen!"
The trim, ashen-skinned man continues yelling joyous praises to you and the stocky, clean-shaven man as he pumps his arm into the air.
The willowy, grey-streaked man sways to his feet, sobbing and shouting joyfull and wordlessly at the stocky, clean-shaven man.
Seeming to clasp it for dear life, the swarthy, aging man holds his black serpentine cane.
Seeming surprised for a moment before taking her hand and shaking it back, the stocky, clean-shaven man says to the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar , in sirihish:
"Thank... thank you, Faithful Lady."
The scruffy, brown-haired youth hesitantly puts his gloved hands together, his youthful face a mixture of many emotions.
<< The lofty, cunyati-tanned man feels hints of an awful, unbearable sadness. >>
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"What's... what is going on, I..."
Grabbing at the willowy, grey-streaked man's arm, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette stands up.
The chubby, brown-haired man laughs, clapping an arm upon the back of the swarthy, aging man.
<< The extremely short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales feels overwhelmed from all angles, senses reeling. >>
The immense, crimson-braided man takes up position in the middle of the narrow stage, his arms folded across his chest.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman lifts a hand, wrapping it around the curvy, jallal-tressed maiden's head, hand soothing as much as elated.
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar eases away back toward the stage, her eyes straying shyly back to you.
The pockmarked, well-toned man thinks:
"I'm... in... the Sun King's presence..."
With a dazed smile, laughing almost as if in spite of herself, the short, dusky woman hugs the stocky, clean-shaven man's waist with one arm.
The trim, ashen-skinned man walks over to the stocky, clean-shaven man, slapping a hand on his shoulder with a broad grin.
The spangled-blond, muscular woman thinks:
"That I was here today. It's a reason to have young, to be able to say I was here today. That I gazed upon him."
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette lets out a shout for the stocky, clean-shaven man and thrusts a fist in the air.
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar thinks:
"Should I... can I... -talk- to Him?"
The robust, coppery-curled teen shrieks in excitement as she wipes away a tear.
The trim, ashen-skinned man continues laughing for a bit longer before stepping away.
Placing a gloved hand on his shoulder, the scruffy, brown-haired youth whispers something to the sinewy, bald-headed man .
<Eukelade>: A hush ripples slowly over the crowd as you folds your arms over his chest, starting from the stage and moving backwards.
<< The lofty, cunyati-tanned man feels a struggle between overwhelming euphoria and a deep, abiding grief. >>
Easing himself up as he wipes stray tears from his cheeks, the spindly, grey-haired man says, in sirihish:
"His Radiance... Oh, to be honored by His Radiance's presence."
The trim, ashen-skinned man thinks:
"He's real."
The swarthy, aging man grips the chubby, brown-haired man 's cloak as if for fear of falling, but jabs his black serpentine cane into the air with his other hand, cheering.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman looks up at you, a smile lingering.
<< The spangled-blond, muscular woman feels overwhelmed with awe. >>
Sobbing into the ethereal, fair-haired woman shoulder, the curvy, jallal-tressed maiden whispers something to the ethereal, fair-haired woman.
Still clutching at his jade and ebony cross, the willowy, grey-streaked man begins pushing his way through the crowd towards you, his gaze loving and reverant.
The scruffy, brown-haired youth looks up at you.
[[You feel an intense STILLNESS ome over you as your attention is drawn to you.]]
The trim, ashen-skinned man turns and looks back to you in reverential silence.
Pulling back to shout out loud, the curvy, jallal-tressed maiden exclaims, in sirihish:
"He is my Sun King!"
<< The spangled-blond, muscular woman feels wetness on your cheek. >>
The stocky, clean-shaven man wraps an arm around the short, dusky woman, starting to retreat back into the crowd towards the chubby, brown-haired man, then pauses.
The extremely short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales silences and stills, motionless.
The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar turns suddenly to you hushing immediately.
The chubby, brown-haired man falls into silence, an arm still upon the swarthy, aging man's shoulder.
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden suddenly falls still, her eyes drawn to you.
With awe, the pockmarked, well-toned man looks up at you.
Sucking in a hushed breath the svelte, top-knotted woman 's sobs grow silent, her body still trembling.
Lifting her head, the extremely short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales looks up at you.
<< The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar feels your attention riveted on Muk Utep. >>
The willowy, grey-streaked man stops in his tracks near the front of the crowd, his jade and ebony cross dangling in his hand from a broken leather cord.
The sinewy, weather-worn man lowers his hands to his sides, eyes fixed intensely on you.
The scruffy, brown-haired youth 's arms fall to his sides, his gaze inevitably drawn to you, wide eyed.
The freckled, light-skinned man stares upwards at you.
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette begins to take a step to follow the willowy, grey-streaked man, and then stops as if slapped.
Spreading his arms wide, palms upturned, you say, in sirihish:
"Hear me, citizens of the Known World."
With utter calm and quiet, the robust, coppery-curled teen regards you.
Staring fixated, the svelte, top-knotted woman looks up at you.
The chubby, brown-haired man thinks:
"Krath...Rokov...you bastard...ha!"
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden reaches out for the nearest hand and grasps it tightly, her eyes focused on you.
The chubby, brown-haired man thinks:
"Utep...speaks..."
Held by the stocky, clean-shaven man, the short, dusky woman stares, motionlessly, toward you, eyes still wide, the kohl streaked where tears left their tracks.
The extremely short male wearing a bloodied runic, fire-scorched mask peers over at you.
The dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man has arrived from the east, stepping quietly.
The dreadlocked female has arrived from the east.
The neat bearded, cyprini-hued male has arrived from the east.
<< The lofty, cunyati-tanned man feels awful clarity. >>
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"I don't... don't understand... whose feelings are these? Mine, or theirs?"
The trim, ashen-skinned man watches you with serene smile on his lips.
The spangled-blond, muscular woman 's hand moves to her face and slowly wipes the moisture there smearing the tears into streaks and then she looks down at her wet fingers, then quickly up at you.
<< The extremely short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales feels compelled to listen. >>
<< The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette feels full of rage atSamos . >>
The chubby, brown-haired man wipes at his eyes, blinking back tears.
Crimson locks glinting in refracted light, you say, in sirihish:
"Long did I slumber, but never did I rest. My dreams spoke to me of this day, of this event, and of what will come to be."
Glancing from the dreadlocked female to the neat bearded, cyprini-hued male , the dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man says, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Not a word."
[[Everything else seems to fade away as all your attention is focused on the immense, crimson-braided man.]]
The freckled, light-skinned man glances briefly to the side to the dreadlocked female .
[[You feel compelled to hush. To listen. To listen to your words, which seem to you to be beautiful, and right.]]
The dreadlocked female looks around with an anxious expression then bows deeply.
<< The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden feels an somehow solid emptiness. >>
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden thinks:
"Sun King, Sun King, sun king..."
The freckled, light-skinned man thinks:
"Ah...I..."
The willowy, brown-haired young man reaches up a slender finger to wipe away a stream of tears slowly working their way down his cheek.
<< The lofty, cunyati-tanned man feels a twinge of of sympathy for the southern emissaries. >>
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"This must be tearing them apart."
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar falls into simple, rapt stillness.
The neat bearded, cyprini-hued male thinks:
"What is happening"
His gaze stern as he looks through the crowd, you say, in sirihish:
"To you I gift the knowledge of what must come to be. "
Kneeling beside the freckled, light-skinned man, unable to help herself the svelte, top-knotted woman grips the top of the freckled, light-skinned man 's hand tightly, seemingly unware of herself doing so as she stares at you.
<< The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette feels reverent. >>
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette thinks:
"The knowledge of what must come to be."
<< The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden feels her heart skip a bit, but almost unknowingly. >>
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"Ah... look at this..."
The dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man's brows furrow, eyes on you.
The scruffy, brown-haired youth stares wide-eyed towards you, scrawny form still and motionless, hands hanging low at his sides.
The neat bearded, cyprini-hued male halts suddenly, eyes searching through the crowd and stopping as they rest on you.
<< The extremely short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales feels like everything she's ever known was wrong. >>
Lowering his hands to his side, you say, in sirihish:
"Heed my words, for they are the prophecies of the Sun-King, Muk-Utep."
Hanging on every word, the stocky, clean-shaven man looks up at you.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman thinks:
"... Stay..."
<< The trim, ashen-skinned man feels elation pouring through your body. >>
<< The lofty, cunyati-tanned man feels emotions racing between peace, rapture, grief and confusion. >>
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"I've... I can't think straight. Why can't I think straight? I've got to get out of here..."
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"No, I've got to stay?"
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"This must be destiny... that I have crossed the sands and shot into slavery to hear His words!"
Expressionless, the robust, coppery-curled teen remains transfixed on you.
The shaggy-haired, sun-branded man watches you intently, face rapt.
The chubby, brown-haired man holds his breath, eyes firmly once more upon you.
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"This is what you want, Bryn! Important things! There's nothing more important than this!"
<< The spangled-blond, muscular woman feels suffused with rapture. >>
The spangled-blond, muscular woman thinks:
"Am I worthy? I want to be worthy."
<< The short, dusky woman feels the entirety of her being drawn reverently toward the immense, crimson-braided man, her lifelong loyalties and loves suddenly thrown into turmoil. >>
His head tilting back, eyes unfocused as he speaks with a booming voice, you say, in sirihish:
"Darkness gathers overhead, falling with soft intention to those below. A victory… turned to defeat. A deed done in ignorance will set the world awash with anger."
Staring, slack-jawed, the extremely short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales looks up at you.
Kneeling down, the dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man sits down.
The short, lithe young man gazes silently at you, deep green eyes held wide.
<< The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar feels all the noise and chaos disappear at the sound of His voice. >>
The freckled, light-skinned man thinks:
"I should think more before I try to help..."
The dreadlocked female stares at you in rapt attention.
The freckled, light-skinned man thinks:
"Darkness?"
Massive chest lifting as he takes a deep breath, you say, in sirihish:
"Wasted lands will fall victim, as swooping shadows solidfy a stone saber will shatter the earth."
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar thinks:
"A deed done in ignorance."
<< The short, dusky woman feels as if she and the immense, crimson-braided man are all that exists. He and His words. >>
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden sucks in a deep breath, her blinks almost non existant as she watches your every
move.
<< The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette feels utterly concentrated on Muk's words. >>
<< The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar feels your being quail at the words. >>
The ethereal, fair-haired woman thinks:
"... No... what are... you... saying..."
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar thinks:
"His prophecy... He makes it known to His common caste now."
<< The trim, ashen-skinned man feels that stillness holding through your entire body. >>
Words carrying clearly across the garden, you say, in sirihish:
"A time of ash shall mark the rise of the cities. Days of old shall be new once more. "
[[A muffling, encompassing void of silence shrouds the area, broken only by your powerful, penetrating words.]]
<< The ethereal, fair-haired woman feels like it's impossible to think, to reason, to... understand... >>
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"I can't believe what I'm hearing..."
Head tipping down, his gaze clouded, you say, in sirihish:
"The paths diversify, bright strands bring victory, the wrong steps defeat."
The spindly, grey-haired man stays silent, focusing on you's every word.
<< The short, dusky woman feels the tiny surfacing thought. >>
The short, dusky woman thinks:
".. more riddles... even the Sun King Himself speaks riddles."
The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar thinks:
"His Radiance speaks of the return of Echri. Command us, what do you wish of us, your loyal and faithful servants."
<< The short, dusky woman feels prompted to mad laughter, just as much as she is to cry, all overwhelmed with awe and reverence. >>
<< The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar feels the shroud of silence press close, the only thing visible in His Light. >>
The stocky, clean-shaven man thinks:
"... deeds done in ignorance... that sounds like whatSamos went and did.."
His voice dropping lower, you say, in sirihish:
"What was once opposite shall join as one - fire and water will mingle, the union will tremble the earth."
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"This... really doesn't mean much to me. At all. I can't piece this together at all."
<< The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar feels terrified. >>
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar thinks:
"Magick and void and-- ooooh."
<< The spangled-blond, muscular woman feels confusion. >>
The spangled-blond, muscular woman thinks:
"I don't understand it all."
<< The extremely short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales feels her face flush with warm heat at the word 'fire.'. >>
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"This sounds... cataclysmic..."
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"Will any survive this?"
The chubby, brown-haired man blinks his eyes but otherwise watches you.
The words a mere whisper yet clearly heard, you say, in sirihish:
"When eyeless beasts comb the land, then shall be the time for all tribes to gather. The march must be made, or the path will be lost."
The short-haired, jade-eyed Lirathan templar falls in behind you.
The skeletal, dark-skinned Jihaen templar falls in behind you.
<< The short, dusky woman feels a tight inward shudder. >>
The short-haired, jade-eyed Lirathan templar falls in behind you.
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"If the Sun Kings words are true... then slavery or not, I'll be ash by the time this prophecy rings true."
Her eyes fastened at your feet, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar shivers deeply.
The freckled, light-skinned man thinks:
"Tribes! We have...we've done it right so far!"
The tiny, reed-like Jihaen templar falls in behind you.
The shaggy-haired, sun-branded man thinks:
"We are tribe, my King. We are strong in the Light."
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden watches you with fascination.
<< The extremely short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales feels revulsion churn through her gut--old memories, old words, the ramblings of a madman recalled. >>
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar thinks:
"Eyeless beings... He will protect us. We must do as He orders."
The immense, crimson-braided man exhales, nostrils flaring as he looks over those gathered, his lips pressing together to form a stern countenance.
The chubby, brown-haired man thinks:
"Rache...Utep...Utep...listen...Utep..."
Fixed where she stands, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette gazes adoringly at you.
The willowy, grey-streaked man reaches out a trembling, empty hand towards you.
<< The sinewy, weather-worn man feels nothing, everything in him fixed on the words of the immense, crimson-braided man. >>
<< The lofty, cunyati-tanned man feels a grim determination as he forces his feelings to quiet. >>
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"Fine. Fine. Leave the big stuff to people who understand it. Eyes on your own prize. Thrend will lead you."
The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar's gaze remains utterly transfixed on you, his expression caught between rapt attention and stern determination.
The trim, ashen-skinned man thinks:
"and now....this should be my home..."
Motionless, the dreadlocked female looks up at you.
<< The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar feels your mind racing. >>
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar thinks:
"We can do it, we -will- do it. Oh, if only he will look at me... war..."
<< The trim, ashen-skinned man feels that overwhelming love for Tuluk flowing through you. >>
The spangled-blond, muscular woman's body sways on her bended knees, both her hands pressed over her heart.
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"How can the Dragon even wish to ever vanquish such a massive and all-powerful king as this?"
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"You're going to be best, aren't you? That's how you'll serve him. That's..."
Stepping towards the edge of the stage, you say, in sirihish:
"Look for my warnings. Only if we march as one will we there be victory."
The short, lithe young man breathes shakily, his deep green eyes unflinchingly locked on you.
<< The extremely short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales feels subdued and reverent. >>
The freckled, light-skinned man thinks:
"As...one...?"
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"The South is but a grain of this man's being!"
<< The short, dusky woman feels memories flashing, stirring, mad ramblings, visions of fire and death, of floods and cold void winds, of a pure white bird larger than life, awe and desperate sorrow overwhelmed with devotion and love. >>
The freckled, light-skinned man thinks:
"...with the other tribes, or..."
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden whispers but a single word-- 'victory'.
<< The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar feels a burst of hot tears behind your eyes. >>
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar thinks:
"Work as one! Yes!"
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette murmurs something that sounds like an agreement as she watches you.
The svelte, top-knotted woman clutches the freckled, light-skinned man 's hand, gaze transfixed on you, tears welled in her eyes.
<< The swarthy, aging man feels nothing, weightless - mind, body, and soul caught in the immense, crimson-braided man's grasp. >>
<< The lofty, cunyati-tanned man feels a moment's doubt. >>
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"Serving Him... seems like such a different idea now that... now that you've seen Him... like this..."
Dipping his head, braids swinging about his face, you say, in sirihish:
"Walk in My light, my people."
The ethereal, fair-haired woman thinks:
"... Stay..."
The ethereal, fair-haired woman thinks:
"... please."
The immense, crimson-braided man steps from the stage, motioning to the group of silent Templars behind him.
A silent sob wracking her shoulder, her face joyous as she whispers, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar
says, in an unfamiliar tongue:
"rizr en aio."
[[As the immense, crimson-braided man shifts to leave the stage, he turns his head, looking directly at you, a luminous smile on his handsome face.]]
The short, dusky woman thinks:
"My people.. my people."
The dusky, sorrel-curled woman's eyebrows rise.
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"He looked at me..."
The dreadlocked female's eyes widen in shock.
The spangled-blond, muscular woman's breath catches in her throat, the sound a gasp, a sob, and raptured moan.
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden emits a soft gasp as she looks at you, her body swaying on weak knees.Someone thinks: I have to serve him...
Someone thinks: He loves me.. He loves me..
[[A ripple of energy courses through you, and people all about the area begin to turn and glance in the direction of the Grand Ivory Pyramid.]]
Scene: The Silverwood Estate
Event: The Grey Hunt Announcement
Note: Staff view of thinks and feels has been left in to enhance the scene.
Someone thinks:
"Hmm."
<< The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar feels curious. >>
The...
Continue Reading...An Unprecedented Meeting by Maglos
Added on Jan 22, 2011Thrend Lyksae arranges a trip to visit the Elan Pah, an alliance of elves. While his hatred of the elven tribes in general affects him, he presses forth to use his talents in understanding tribal cultures and languages to attempt to work against a threat. Unfortunately for Thrend, his "understanding" of tribal cultures didn't include some key bits of knowledge about the nature of certain individuals. He is forced to control himself and not say what he is thinking (or do what he secretly desires) on several occasions.
The Desert Rose [ES Quit]
Entering this busy bar is like stepping into a dimly-lit cave, the thick stone walls keeping it comfortably cool inside and adding to the cave-like feel of the place. A constant buzz of conversation fills the room, which is populated by elves from a variety of tribes. Narrow arrow slits on the western wall are draped with sandcloth to block the heat of the afternoon sun, but still let in a scant measure of filtered light. The sandcloth covers are rolled up and tied at dusk to let in the cool night breezes. The bar is on the north wall, and tables and chairs, most of them occupied, are grouped about the room in the shadows. On the south wall, a clear area provides a spot for dancing or entertainment to be performed. An elaborate archway in the eastern wall allows entry to a vibrantly-hued room,smoke writhing out past its entry curtain.
The desert elf outpost message board is propped up against the wall here.
A thick rug of shiny quirri hide lies on the floor beneath the arrow slits.
A multi-ringed dartboard hangs on a wall here.
The corded, bronze-hued male elf is standing here.
The slender, crooked-nosed woman is standing here.
The sinewy, weather-worn man is standing here.
The stern-eyed, weathered half-elf is standing here.
The leanly muscled, topknotted elf is standing here, looking a bit winded.
A sinewy, ebon-skinned elf leans against the western wall, surveying the bar.
The dark-haired elf is standing here.
A slender, cold-eyed elven woman stands behind the bar, pouring drinks.
The burly, red-haired woman has arrived from the south.
The red maned, anakore-tattooed elf has arrived from the south.
The braided, ebony-skinned elf has arrived from the south.
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf has arrived from the south.
Dragging fingers through lank braids, the braided, ebony-skinned elf stops using her sweat-stained loose-fitting, gwoshi-hide headwrap.
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf starts cleaning.
The braided, ebony-skinned elf puts her sweat-stained loose-fitting, gwoshi-hide headwrap into her stained hooded, greenish-grey greatcloak.
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf brushes the dust off of light-red and brown streaked warpaint.
The corded, bronze-hued male elf starts cleaning.
The corded, bronze-hued male elf dusts himself off.
You start cleaning.
You dust yourself off.
The corded, bronze-hued male elf gestures a clawed arm for a large stone table as he moves across to take his seat.
The slim arrow slits allow a partially-obscured view outside, to the
broad tunnel that provides one of the entrances to the outpost.
[Near]
A war beetle is reclining here.
A war beetle is reclining here.
A grey-scaled, silver-shelled inix is reclining here.
A reddish-shelled inix is reclining here.
A rugged elf with copper skin stands here, on vigilant watch.
A tall, darkly-tanned elven woman stands here.
A coppery elf woman of apparent youth stands here alertly.
Remarking as he lifts a hand to his his ribcage breastplate, the leanly muscled, topknotted elf says to the corded, bronze-hued male elf, in allundean:
"Heru, I have come to speak for my tribe, as you asked. I didn't mean to wear Mother's flesh, but it was given to me during the earlier problems."
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf sits on a thick rug of quirri hide.
Just past the arrow slits, A grey-scaled, silver-shelled inix opens its jaws, letting its tongue dart out to lick its nostrils.
You look up at the leanly muscled, topknotted elf.
Leanly muscular, this elf bears the athletic frame of a warrior. Primal strength is stretched taut along his lanky form, providing bulk where otherwise there might be none. This might make him a somewhat imposing presence to other races, given that this bulk is supplemented by a stature easily crossing five cords. Forearms and hands alike are marked with a wide array of scars. Some look to have been mere nicks, while others are gruesome, puffy swaths of poorly mended tissue. The elf's face is bound within flesh of a dirty golden hue, the contours of which emphasize a heavy, surly-looking brow. At most times, his chapped lips are locked in a natural frown cradled by a square jaw. He keeps his head closely shaved with the
exception of a black topknot.
The leanly muscled, topknotted elf is in excellent condition.
His skin has a stonelike quality.
The leanly muscled, topknotted elf is using:
He is carrying:
nothing obvious
The sinewy, weather-worn man starts cleaning.
The corded, bronze-hued male elf sits at a large stone table.
Settling on the corded, bronze-hued male elf's right, the braided, ebony-skinned elf sits at a large stone table.
The sinewy, weather-worn man dusts himself off.
The leanly muscled, topknotted elf starts cleaning.
The leanly muscled, topknotted elf dusts himself off.
The slender, crooked-nosed woman sheathes a bloodied quirri-hilted, serrated bone scimitar.
The freckled, light-skinned man stares at the leanly muscled, topknotted elf for a few moments, his gaze fixed firmly on him.
The slender, crooked-nosed woman sheathes a curved, mantis-carved obsidian scimitar.
You think:
"Mother's flesh? He is an abomination."
His attention flitting aside for but an instant, the leanly muscled, topknotted elf looks down at you.
Gaze lit for him, the corded, bronze-hued male elf says to the leanly muscled, topknotted elf, in allundean:
"..Go an' watch the beetle an' inix for the Ivory, then."
Reaching out to slide the nearest off, the braided, ebony-skinned elf gets her ceramic mug from a large stone table.
The slender, crooked-nosed woman nods to the sinewy, weather-worn man.
At 1) a small wooden bar are:
a few empty seats.
At 2) a thick rug of quirri hide are:
the raw-boned, top-knotted elf, and a couple of empty seats.
At 3) a large stone table are:
the corded, bronze-hued male elf, the braided, ebony-skinned elf,
and some empty seats.
His lips drawing into a frown, the leanly muscled, topknotted elf asks the corded, bronze-hued male elf, in allundean:
"You do not wish me to speak?"
Briefly, the sinewy, weather-worn man looks at the leanly muscled, topknotted elf.
With a pause, the corded, bronze-hued male elf says, in allundean:
"..Nah mind.."
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf stands up from a thick rug of quirri hide.
The corded, bronze-hued male elf shouts, in allundean:
"Sahael! Close'a gates ah?"
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf walks east.
The freckled, light-skinned man eases onto a seat at a large stone table.
You sit on a thick rug of quirri hide.
The slender, cold-eyed elven woman turns and looses a loud, three-note whistle through the murder holes.
Just past the arrow slits, the tall, darkly-tanned elven woman closes the gate.
At 1) a small wooden bar are:
a few empty seats.
At 2) a thick rug of quirri hide are:
the freckled, light-skinned man, and a couple of empty seats.
At 3) a large stone table are:
the corded, bronze-hued male elf, the braided, ebony-skinned elf,
and some empty seats.
Just past the arrow slits, The tall, darkly-tanned elven woman shouts upwards, and the gates begin to grind closed.
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in allundean:
"Kija! You bring anything to smoke?"
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf has arrived from the east.
Ok.
You get your knot of dark-red, golden-flecked spice from your loose, crimson silk knapsack.
It is very light.
Just past the arrow slits, the tall, darkly-tanned elven woman shouts something.
Grunting as he lifts his thick arms to his chest, folding them there, the leanly muscled, topknotted elf says to the corded, bronze-hued male elf, in allundean:
"If they want to speak with our tribe, they'll have to get used to it. I'm the only Akeita in the Pah who's not Gifted."
At a large stone table, the braided, ebony-skinned elf speaks, easing back against the chair.
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf beams you a jovial grin.
You begin speaking sirihish.
With a tilt of her head, the slender, crooked-nosed woman asks the corded, bronze-hued male elf, in allundean:
"Thanks. Ah din't know about this meetin - just kinda ran inta it. Should we wall up our minds?"
The red maned, anakore-tattooed elf smirks, casting a glance at the braided, ebony-skinned elf.
The braided, ebony-skinned elf gets her bleached-bone spice tube case from her fine pouched belt.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You build a psychic barrier around your mind.
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf sits on a thick rug of quirri hide.
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf puts his pile of allanaki coins into his dusty mesh carrying sling.
The braided, ebony-skinned elf opens a bleached-bone spice tube case.
You begin speaking allundean.
With a light sniff, the corded, bronze-hued male elf says to the leanly muscled, topknotted elf, in allundean:
"Come an' sit."
The sinewy, weather-worn man slings a long bone spear, inlaid with stones across his back.
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf looks down at you.
The slender, crooked-nosed woman heads over to a large stone table and pulls out a few chairs.
The braided, ebony-skinned elf gets her pinch of black, viscous spice from her bleached-bone spice tube case.
Grunting as he lopes forward to claim a chair, the leanly muscled, topknotted elf sits at a large stone table.
With a gaze turned for you, the corded, bronze-hued male elf says to you, in allundean:
"We have'a chair for you here, Chosen."
As he holds up your knot of dark-red, golden-flecked spice, you say, in allundean:
"Unfortunately, this is only warspice...most of what I have is warspice."
At 1) a small wooden bar are:
a few empty seats.
At 2) a thick rug of quirri hide are:
the raw-boned, top-knotted elf, the freckled, light-skinned man,
and one empty seat.
At 3) a large stone table are:
the corded, bronze-hued male elf, the braided, ebony-skinned elf,
the leanly muscled, topknotted elf, and a few empty seats.
Keeping a hand on one empty chair, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says to you, in allundean:
"Over here Chosen Sir, ah picked out one what don't wobble too much."
[Standing first]
You stand up from a thick rug of quirri hide.
You sit at a large stone table.
Balancing a pinch of black, vicious spice on her thumb, the braided, ebony-skinned elf offers it towards the corded, bronze-hued male elf.
The slender, crooked-nosed woman sits at a large stone table.
Just past the arrow slits, A reddish-shelled inix stretches its hind legs, arching its back.
You get your knot of black, viscous spice from your loose, crimson silk knapsack.
It is very light.
The corded, bronze-hued male elf shakes his head loosely, reaching out to swipe a mug from a large stone table.
The corded, bronze-hued male elf gets his ceramic mug from a large stone table.
With a passing gaze, the red maned, anakore-tattooed elf looks down at you.
Head dipping once, the braided, ebony-skinned elf puts her pinch of black, viscous spice into her bleached-bone spice tube case.
You suffer from use of the Way.
At your table, you say in allundean, casually, as he holds up your knot of black, viscous spice:
"And the rest of this knot. Not much left."
The braided, ebony-skinned elf closes a bleached-bone spice tube case.
You give your knot of black, viscous spice to the corded, bronze-hued male elf.
The braided, ebony-skinned elf puts her bleached-bone spice tube case into her fine pouched belt.
!
You give your knot of dark-red, golden-flecked spice to the corded, bronze-hued male elf.
Lifting his arm as he observes the departure of its stoney texture, the leanly muscled, topknotted elf says, in allundean:
"There, that'll be better. Heh."
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf stands up from a thick rug of quirri hide.
The braided, ebony-skinned elf sips from her ceramic mug.
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish, to the sinewy, weather-worn man, with a warm smile:
"So far just gittin everyone settled down, spice and alla that."
At one end, the raw-boned, top-knotted elf sits at a large stone table.
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf puts his booklet of rolling papers onto a large stone table.
Motioning towards some full mugs on the table, the braided, ebony-skinned elf says, in tribal-accented allundean:
"Drinks for those that want it."
Just past the arrow slits, A reddish-shelled inix stretches its hind legs, arching its back.
Taking a chair next to her, the sinewy, weather-worn man sits at a large stone table.
The stern-eyed, weathered half-elf sits at a large stone table.
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf gets his ceramic mug from a large stone table.
You get your blue and purple ceramic bottle from your loose, crimson silk knapsack.
It is very light, and about half full.
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf holds his ceramic mug.
It's about half full of a reddish liquid.
Ok.
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish, reaching for a mug with another smile to the braided, ebony-skinned elf:
"Aw, thanks Treya!"
Clumsy, the corded, bronze-hued male elf moves to sort spice before him on a large stone table.
The braided, ebony-skinned elf beams a smile at the slender, crooked-nosed woman.
The slender, crooked-nosed woman gets her ceramic mug from a large stone table.
At your table, the sinewy, weather-worn man says in sirihish, nodding sideward to the slender, crooked-nosed woman:
"Ah figured as much."
The slender, crooked-nosed woman holds her ceramic mug.
At your table, you say in allundean, holding up your blue and purple ceramic bottle:
"And some flame, I believe, for any that want it. Ah...here."
You give your blue and purple ceramic bottle to the sinewy, weather-worn man.
The braided, ebony-skinned elf closes a sizeable leather backpack.
The sinewy, weather-worn man holds his blue and purple ceramic bottle.
You are carrying:
a loose, crimson silk knapsack
On a large stone table (here) :
a booklet of rolling papers
some ceramic mugs
a couple of short lengths of bone
At your table, the corded, bronze-hued male elf says in allundean, with a few nods across a large stone table, first to the braided, ebony-skinned elf:
"This is Treya of'a Sun Runners. She is my second in'a Elan Pah.. an took care of our meets with'a Ivory in'a past."
The sinewy, weather-worn man looks down at his blue and purple ceramic bottle for a moment and then turns his head to the slender, crooked-nosed woman.
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish, lifting her ceramic mug up:
"Ta easier days and smooth sands."
You get your ceramic mug from a large stone table.
It is very light, and full.
The braided, ebony-skinned elf's head tilts in a nod.
It's full of a yellowish green liquid.
Slugging it back in a loud gulp, the slender, crooked-nosed woman drinks green honey mead from her ceramic mug.
You don't smell anything special.
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf drinks green honey mead from his ceramic mug.
You drink the green honey mead.
You do not feel thirsty.
You are full.
The sinewy, weather-worn man shrugs briefly and then tilts his blue and purple ceramic bottle back.
The braided, ebony-skinned elf sips from her ceramic mug.
The sinewy, weather-worn man drinks firestorm's flame from his blue and purple ceramic bottle.
Sorting a few lines before him on a sheet of spice-paper, the corded, bronze-hued male elf slides his knot of dark-red, golden-flecked spice to the table center.
The corded, bronze-hued male elf puts his knot of dark-red, golden-flecked spice onto a large stone table.
The corded, bronze-hued male elf puts his knot of black, viscous spice onto a large stone table.
You think:
"...there is a fucking mutant right here in front of me, got to be."
The stern-eyed, weathered half-elf leans back in his seat, crossing his arms casually.
At your table, the corded, bronze-hued male elf says in allundean, with a nod across to the raw-boned, top-knotted elf:
"Tohego of my tribe. Soh. He fought beside me this week against'a cursed Ashlayer an' many clawfoot."
The sinewy, weather-worn man's as he chugs down the contents of his blue and purple ceramic bottle, a small line of red liquid begins to run down his cheek.
Inching closer and winking at the braided, ebony-skinned elf, the slender, crooked-nosed woman whispers something to the sinewy, weather-worn man.
After some nods around the table, the raw-boned, top-knotted elf gets his knot of black, viscous spice from a large stone table.
The red maned, anakore-tattooed elf folds his arms, leaning against the wall.
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf gets his booklet of rolling papers from a large stone table.
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf draws a dusty durrit-claw skinning knife.
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf starts cleaning.
The slender, crooked-nosed woman whispers something to the sinewy, weather-worn man.
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf brushes the dust off of a bloodied durrit-claw skinning knife.
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf starts cleaning.
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf quickly wipes the blood off of a bloodied durrit-claw skinning knife.
You suffer from use of the Way.
The slender, crooked-nosed woman stops using her ceramic mug.
The sinewy, weather-worn man lowers his blue and purple ceramic bottle onto the table with a satisfied sigh and then nods sideward to the slender, crooked-nosed woman.
At your table, you say in allundean, nodding simply as he gestures to the burly, red-haired woman, who nods slightly from her position near a large stone table:
"And this is Lorre, my bodyguard and one of the Lyksaean Warriors. She, myself, and the Faithful Lord slew another similar one..."
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf wipes his durrit-claw skinning knife on his dusty brown hide loincloth and sets to shave a corner from his knot of black, viscous spice.
At your table, you say in allundean:
"...north of the Muark lands."
The slender, crooked-nosed woman puts her ceramic mug onto a large stone table.
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf stops holding his ceramic mug.
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf holds his knot of black, viscous spice.
The slender, crooked-nosed woman gets her ceramic mug from a large stone table.
The sinewy, weather-worn man stops holding his blue and purple ceramic bottle.
You are carrying:
a ceramic mug
a loose, crimson silk knapsack
The braided, ebony-skinned elf sips from her ceramic mug.
It's less than half full of a yellowish green liquid.
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf stops holding his knot of black, viscous spice.
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf carefully rolls a pinch of spice with a booklet of rolling papers.
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf sheathes a durrit-claw skinning knife.
The corded, bronze-hued male elf drifts a nod across to you.
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf puts his ceramic mug onto a large stone table.
The sinewy, weather-worn man gets his ceramic mug from a large stone table.
The leanly muscled, topknotted elf shoots a slight grin over toward the corded, bronze-hued male elf, for whatever reason. As he does, he lifts a hand to strip the helmet from his head.
Licking her lips, the slender, crooked-nosed woman chugs another mugful down.
The slender, crooked-nosed woman drinks green honey mead from her ceramic mug.
The leanly muscled, topknotted elf stops using his stained sandy-yellow chitinous helm.
You stop using your pair of spiked, chitin-backed gauntlets, revealing a crimson and grey seven-pronged star.
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf puts his booklet of rolling papers onto a large stone table.
The corded, bronze-hued male elf looks up at the burly, red-haired woman.
The sinewy, weather-worn man holds his ceramic mug.
Setting the empty mug to one side, the braided, ebony-skinned elf discards her ceramic mug.
You suffer from use of the Way.
A staff member sends:
"Sorry to interrupt, Shal here, can you log this beast of a meeting and send it to me as well as your clanfolkz?"
The slender, crooked-nosed woman drinks green honey mead from her ceramic mug.
At your table, the corded, bronze-hued male elf says in allundean, with a light sniff as his attention centers on you:
"Wha' would we speak on, Chosen?"
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf lights his solidly packed tube of spice from a nearby candle and draws a hearty puff, releasing the smoke through nose and mouth.
The sinewy, weather-worn man's eyes move between the corded, bronze-hued male elf and you as he lifts his ceramic mug to his lips.
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf holds his solidly packed tube of spice.
A thin trail of rich, heady smoke trickles from the raw-boned, top-knotted elf's mouth as he smokes a solidly packed tube of spice.
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf's eyes become glassy-red and half-closed.
You send this message to the staff:
"I always log, so yep, got it under control."
The sinewy, weather-worn man frowns down at his ceramic mug as he lowers it.
The sinewy, weather-worn man stops holding his ceramic mug.
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf stops holding his solidly packed tube of spice.
The sinewy, weather-worn man puts his ceramic mug onto a large stone table.
The slender, crooked-nosed woman wipes some dribbled liquid from her chin with the hem of one of her pair of scrub-camouflaged, sandcloth sleeves.
The slender, crooked-nosed woman puts her ceramic mug onto a large stone table.
The corded, bronze-hued male elf looks down at you.
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf gives his solidly packed tube of spice to the corded, bronze-hued male elf.
Just past the arrow slits, A grey-scaled, silver-shelled inix puffs through its nostrils and bobs its head.
At your table, you say in allundean, letting out a sigh as he sets your ceramic mug on a large stone table:
"The chief thought on my mind is likely one of the foremost thoughts in yours."
The leanly muscled, topknotted elf turns his attention toward you, remaining silent for the moment.
The sinewy, weather-worn man gets his ceramic mug from a large stone table.
Posture slouched against the back of the chair, the braided, ebony-skinned elf looks down at you.
The sinewy, weather-worn man holds his ceramic mug.
The sinewy, weather-worn man drinks green honey mead from his ceramic mug.
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf sits back with a lingering smile and crosses his arms loosely.
The sinewy, weather-worn man sips from his ceramic mug.
At your table, the corded, bronze-hued male elf says in allundean, with a short nod:
"One Fang..was las' believed to be in'a Xytrix Za, but we begin'a believe he is not one of'a Servants."
At your table, you say in allundean, as his hands encircle your ceramic mug:
"One Fang is his name, then?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
At your table, the corded, bronze-hued male elf says in allundean, with his settle back in seat, lifting his ceramic mug, glancing across a large stone table:
"Tha' was it, Kah?"
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf gets his ceramic mug from a large stone table.
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf holds his ceramic mug.
Nodding to the corded, bronze-hued male elf, the slender, crooked-nosed woman whispers something to the sinewy, weather-worn man.
The stern-eyed, weathered half-elf narrows his eyes slightly, his weathered features becoming slightly drawn as he listens.
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf shrugs at the corded, bronze-hued male elf and tilts his mug back.
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf drinks green honey mead from his ceramic mug.
Lips twisting in a thoughtful grimace, the sinewy, weather-worn man whispers something to the slender, crooked-nosed woman.
You suffer from use of the Way.
Just past the arrow slits, A grey-scaled, silver-shelled inix puffs through its nostrils and bobs its head.
At your table, you say in allundean, pursing his lips thoughtfully:
"Private Zak here has made his way to speak with you only recently about some things. I wished to come to answer any...questions...that you may have, if you have any."
The slender, crooked-nosed woman whispers something to the sinewy, weather-worn man.
At your table, the corded, bronze-hued male elf says in allundean, with a delayed nod for you:
"One Fang. He's been quiet late."
think Not that I want to really talk to that mutant fellow but he's in charge of a group of them. No getting around all of that.
You think:
"Not that I want to really talk to that mutant fellow but he's in charge of a group of them. No getting around all of that."
The braided, ebony-skinned elf's attention drifts from you towards the corded, bronze-hued male elf.
The leanly muscled, topknotted elf remains a silent presence at a large stone table. His eyes flit from one speaker to the next.
You think:
"...fuck. It could be worse, I suppose. I could have shown up and instead of seeing some mutant talking about abominable stuff, it could have been a whole fucking group of flying elves."
You feel slightly relieved.
At your table, the corded, bronze-hued male elf says in allundean, with his mouth pursed:
"..Our aim is simple, an' carried by many now. We don' need to play games with words here. Wha' Thralls does'a Ivory know, an' do ya know where any are?"
With a faint nod, the sinewy, weather-worn man whispers something to the slender, crooked-nosed woman.
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf looks at the leanly muscled, topknotted elf.
The red maned, anakore-tattooed elf runs a tongue over his teeth, peering towards the arrow slits for a moment.
At your table, you say in allundean, nodding simply:
"Rondus Fale is one that has been confirmed. Lapitia Fale also seems suspect."
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish, blinking:
"They're dragons?"
At your table, you say in allundean, his tone cool and calm as he glances to the slender, crooked-nosed woman:
"Surprise."
You suffer from use of the Way.
At your table, the corded, bronze-hued male elf says in allundean, with a distracted look for the braided, ebony-skinned elf:
"..The Black Pit ta.. like Sharak."
The sinewy, weather-worn man's eyes widen as he stares at the slender, crooked-nosed woman.
The braided, ebony-skinned elf's head bobs a few times.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish, with a shrug:
"Ain't ne'er heard of a Fale what looked like a dragon before. Learn somethin new every day ah guess."
At your table, you say in allundean, continuing slowly:
"I have heard disturbing news about a Merchant House as well. This has been disputed by some sources and confirmed by others."
Just past the arrow slits, someone opens the gate from the other side.
Just past the arrow slits, someone closes the gate.
The slim arrow slits allow a partially-obscured view outside, to the
broad tunnel that provides one of the entrances to the outpost.
[Near]
A tall, darkly-tanned elven woman stands here.
A war beetle is reclining here.
A war beetle is reclining here.
A grey-scaled, silver-shelled inix is reclining here.
A reddish-shelled inix is reclining here.
A rugged elf with copper skin stands here, on vigilant watch.
A coppery elf woman of apparent youth stands here alertly.
A doorway leads out into a small shop.
[Far]
Nothing.
[Near]
An auburn-haired, dark-eyed elf lounges near the bottom of the stairs.
A thin, tanned elf stands behind the counter, selling goods.
You suffer from use of the Way.
The red maned, anakore-tattooed elf narrows his gaze.
The corded, bronze-hued male elf's attention settles on you.
The slender, crooked-nosed woman's glances shifts toward the western wall as the sound of creaking gates enters the room.
Leaning in, the sinewy, weather-worn man whispers something to the slender, crooked-nosed woman.
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish, murmuring:
"Critters is all still there."
The red maned, anakore-tattooed elf intently scans the area.
The slender, crooked-nosed woman nods to the sinewy, weather-worn man.
The stern-eyed, weathered half-elf's eyes flick to the murder holes, looking carefully through.
At your table, you say in allundean, his gaze now resting on the corded, bronze-hued male elf as he speaks:
"I could not confirm it, but you ask what we know. There is suspicion about Kadius."
At your table, the corded, bronze-hued male elf says in allundean, with a cut nod for you:
"Ah'm told, Rondus is dead."
Just past the arrow slits, A grey-scaled, silver-shelled inix puffs through its nostrils and bobs its head.
You think:
"I do not trust them much, but they have killed ashcallers. They know the threat they pose..."
At your table, the leanly muscled, topknotted elf says in allundean, speaking up for the first time as he turns to regard you:
"Why's there suspicion about them?"
The slender, crooked-nosed woman whispers something to the sinewy, weather-worn man.
You suffer from use of the Way.
Brow furrowed, the sinewy, weather-worn man whispers something to the slender, crooked-nosed woman.
The freckled, light-skinned man's gaze shifts and settles on the leanly muscled, topknotted elf, his lips pursed tightly.
The slender, crooked-nosed woman nods to the sinewy, weather-worn man.
Attention drifting from one speaker to the next, the braided, ebony-skinned elf scratches at a dark, dried bit of crust on her gloves.
The braided, ebony-skinned elf starts cleaning.
The braided, ebony-skinned elf works at cleaning a bloodied pair of dark leather, golden stitched gloves.
The sinewy, weather-worn man gives a sour grunt.
Just past the arrow slits, the very tall figure in a dusty desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster opens the gate from the other side.
Just past the arrow slits, the very tall figure in a dusty desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster has arrived from the north.
Just past the arrow slits, the very tall figure in a dusty desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster closes the gate.
Leaning sideways, the raw-boned, top-knotted elf looks west.
The leanly muscled, topknotted elf merely stares at you, his expression one of expectance.
Just past the arrow slits, The very tall figure in a dusty desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster looks over some mounts.
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf stands up from a large stone table.
The stern-eyed, weathered half-elf's features seem to illuminate with realization, his gaze becoming distant as his eyes widen.
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf walks south.
Just past the arrow slits, the raw-boned, top-knotted elf has arrived from the south.
Just past the arrow slits, The very tall figure in a dusty desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster nods to the raw-boned, top-knotted elf.
At your table, you say in allundean, finally shrugging his shoulders belatedly, speaking almost grudgingly:
"The information collected...is not solid. Do you have anything to dispute that claim of suspicion?"
Just past the arrow slits, the very tall figure in a dusty desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster opens a pouched, brown hide belt.
Just past the arrow slits, the very tall figure in a dusty desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster closes a pouched, brown hide belt.
Just past the arrow slits, the amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf lowers the hood of a dusty desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster.
Just past the arrow slits, walking through among the mounts, the raw-boned, top-knotted elf asks the tall, darkly-tanned elven woman something.
You suffer from use of the Way.
The braided, ebony-skinned elf starts cleaning.
Just past the arrow slits, dusting off her hood, the amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf says something to the raw-boned, top-knotted elf.
At your table, the corded, bronze-hued male elf says in allundean, with his settle back:
"..We have enough names for now."
The braided, ebony-skinned elf flicks some matter to the floor then rests both hands on her lap.
Just past the arrow slits, A grey-scaled, silver-shelled inix opens its jaws, letting its tongue dart out to lick its nostrils.
The lithe, sandy-haired elf has arrived from the east.
Just past the arrow slits, eyeing her up and down, the raw-boned, top-knotted elf asks the amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf something.
The lithe, sandy-haired elf gently drops to the ground.
The slender, crooked-nosed woman looks up at the lithe, sandy-haired elf.
Just past the arrow slits, The amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf nods and floats to the ground softly.
Silently, the lithe, sandy-haired elf lowers down next to the corded, bronze-hued male elf in a seat nearby.
Just past the arrow slits, the amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf stops floating around and lies down to sleep.
Just past the arrow slits, A reddish-shelled inix puffs through its nostrils and bobs its head.
The lithe, sandy-haired elf sits at a large stone table.
Shifting his gaze, the red maned, anakore-tattooed elf looks down at the lithe, sandy-haired elf.
Just past the arrow slits, The raw-boned, top-knotted elf raises his eyebrows.
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish, nodding to the lithe, sandy-haired elf:
"This here's Shattered, fer them what ain't never met'er. Scuse me, ah gotta see ta th'conversation outside."
The slender, crooked-nosed woman stands up from a large stone table.
At your table, you say in allundean, nodding once to the corded, bronze-hued male elf, his expression relaxing a bit:
"I think so, as well..."
You look up at the lithe, sandy-haired elf.
Standing average height for one of her race, this elves lanky body is
defined by few outstanding features. She possesses a small, pointed nose,
two brown eyes, and thin pale lips. Her hair flows down her shoulders in an
unkempt set of tangles and split ends, covered with a variety of dirt and
sands of varying colors from around Zalanthas. A few sun spots and
scratches adorn her ruddy and brownish skin, scattered about on worn arms
and legs that display packed muscle groups common to desert travelers.
The lithe, sandy-haired elf is in excellent condition.
Her skin has a stonelike quality.
The lithe, sandy-haired elf is using:
At your table, the corded, bronze-hued male elf says in allundean, with a simple nod towards the lithe, sandy-haired elf:
"This is Shattered. She knows more of'a Thralls than I do."
Just past the arrow slits, shrugging, the amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf says something to the raw-boned, top-knotted elf.
The slender, crooked-nosed woman lets out a sigh and heads out to the yard.
The lithe, sandy-haired elf looks down at you.
The slender, crooked-nosed woman walks south.
Just past the arrow slits, the slender, crooked-nosed woman has arrived from the south.
You suffer from use of the Way.
Just past the arrow slits, warmly, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says something to the amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf.
Just past the arrow slits, wrinkling his brow, the raw-boned, top-knotted elf says something to the amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf.
At your table, the corded, bronze-hued male elf says in allundean, with a look across to the lithe, sandy-haired elf:
"..How did Rondus fall?"
You think:
"...dear Sun King, had I known I would be surrounded by a cadre of fucking abomination-looking-things, I would have never come."
The stern-eyed, weathered half-elf looks at the lithe, sandy-haired elf.
A thoughtful expression crosses the braided, ebony-skinned elf's features as she huffs out a soft breath.
You begin speaking sirihish.
Just past the arrow slits, raising a hand as a broad smile crosses her lips, the amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf asks the slender, crooked-nosed woman something.
Just past the arrow slits, raising a hand as a broad smile crosses her lips, the amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf asks the slender, crooked-nosed woman something.
Just past the arrow slits, watching the amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf and the raw-boned, top-knotted elf for a few minutes, the slender, crooked-nosed woman asks something.
At your table, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says in tribal-accented allundean, her voice soft as she draws in a faint breath, strange, eldritch words overtoning each word in ghostly whispers:
"Rondus Fale was known by a southern Templar."
Just past the arrow slits, shaking her head, the amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf says something to the slender, crooked-nosed woman.
You begin speaking allundean.
Just past the arrow slits, letting out a chuckle, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says something to the amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf.
Just past the arrow slits, with a vague nod, the raw-boned, top-knotted elf says something to the amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf.
At your table, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says in tribal-accented allundean, gesturing with a hand across the table at those gathered:
"It is no secret to the Black City and Fale is intertwined in dealings with the Dragon, it has been proven too many times."
Just past the arrow slits, gesturing to the raw-boned, top-knotted elf, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says something to the amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf.
The freckled, light-skinned man fixates his gaze on the lithe, sandy-haired elf, his eyes widening slightly.
Just past the arrow slits, thumbing her chest, the amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf says something to the raw-boned, top-knotted elf.
Just past the arrow slits, A grey-scaled, silver-shelled inix opens its jaws, letting its tongue dart out to lick its nostrils.
Just past the arrow slits, her hand waving over to the amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says something to the raw-boned, top-knotted elf.
The corded, bronze-hued male elf looks at the lithe, sandy-haired elf.
The sinewy, weather-worn man looks at the lithe, sandy-haired elf.
You think:
"...I need some spice."
Just past the arrow slits, with a snicker, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says something to the amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf.
Just past the arrow slits, The amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf chuckles softly.
At your table, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says in tribal-accented allundean, gesturing then to you, her voice intoning as the whispers flicker into temporary ghostly lights about her form:
"It may be a surprise to you, Thrend Lysake..."
Just past the arrow slits, the raw-boned, top-knotted elf says something to the amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf.
At your table, you say in allundean, his tone furtive as he shifts his glance to the corded, bronze-hued male elf:
"I could use some of the Tho, Kija."
You suffer from use of the Way.
With a nod across to you, the corded, bronze-hued male elf says, in allundean:
"Table center."
Just past the arrow slits, nodding, the amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf asks the raw-boned, top-knotted elf something.
On a large stone table (here) :
a booklet of rolling papers
a knot of dark-red, golden-flecked spice
a few empty ceramic mugs
a few ceramic mugs
a couple of short lengths of bone
At your table, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says in tribal-accented allundean, drawing in a breath as she sets her hands on the table, speaking to you:
"What is your interest in the Dragonsthralls?"
Just past the arrow slits, tipping his head toward the arrow-slits of the building, the raw-boned, top-knotted elf says something to the amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf.
You suffer from use of the Way.
Just past the arrow slits, glancing over to the east and letting out a soft sigh, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says something.
You suffer from use of the Way.
At your table, the corded, bronze-hued male elf says in allundean, with a nod across to the lithe, sandy-haired elf:
"..They hunt them, as we do, as Tor does."
You suffer from use of the Way.
At your table, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says in tribal-accented allundean, offering a faint shake of her head at that:
"Tor."
Just past the arrow slits, glancing to the east, the amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf asks the slender, crooked-nosed woman something.
At your table, you say in allundean, glancing back to the lithe, sandy-haired elf as he replies, bluntly:
"My interest is to see as many of their corpses rotting on spears, swords, axes, or bashed in by the clubs and maces of House Lyksae...before the coming conflict."
Just past the arrow slits, the amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf says something to the slender, crooked-nosed woman.
You suffer from use of the Way.
Just past the arrow slits, with a nod, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says something to the amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf.
Just past the arrow slits, The amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf nods.
Just past the arrow slits, starting south, the amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf asks something.
Just past the arrow slits, chuckling, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says something to the amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf.
Just past the arrow slits, The amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf chuckles and nods.
At your table, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says in tribal-accented allundean, offering a nod as she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath:
"That is good, but the spirits do not divine if your purpose is truth, yet."
The stern-eyed, weathered half-elf frowns thoughtfully for a moment, gazing down at the table top.
At your table, the corded, bronze-hued male elf says in allundean, iolite gaze settled on the lithe, sandy-haired elf:
"..We know any other thralls?"
Just past the arrow slits, heading south, her eyes widened, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says something to the amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf.
Just past the arrow slits, the slender, crooked-nosed woman walks south.
Just past the arrow slits, the amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf walks south.
The slender, crooked-nosed woman has arrived from the south.
The amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf has arrived from the south.
At your table, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says in tribal-accented allundean, opening her eyes and gazing back at the corded, bronze-hued male elf, after a moment of thought:
"No."
Just past the arrow slits, The raw-boned, top-knotted elf wanders around, checking on the mounts.
Shifting his gaze towards the entrance, the red maned, anakore-tattooed elf looks up at the amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf.
With a soft nod of his head, the sinewy, weather-worn man looks up at the amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf.
Indicating an empty chair at a large stone table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says to the amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf, in allundean:
"Ya kin rest yer ass, ah'll stand fer now, we kin switch when ya need ta stretch."
You suffer from use of the Way.
At your table, you say in allundean, glancing to the lithe, sandy-haired elf, brusquely:
"Then let me elaborate. I personally withstood attacks from Sharak and Horoz. They killed my last bodyguard."
The amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf nods with a smile to the sinewy, weather-worn man.
The corded, bronze-hued male elf's attention settles long on the lithe, sandy-haired elf.
The amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf nods to the slender, crooked-nosed woman.
Just past the arrow slits, The raw-boned, top-knotted elf leashes the beetles and inix to a wooden beam and strolls back to the tavern.
Just past the arrow slits, the raw-boned, top-knotted elf walks south.
The amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf sits at a large stone table.
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf has arrived from the south.
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf looks down at the lithe, sandy-haired elf.
At your table, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says in tribal-accented allundean, shifting her gaze to you, drawing in a faint breath:
"So you were the Chosen he pulled out of the White Walls?"
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf wanders in from the market, appearing mildly surprised as he spots the lithe, sandy-haired elf.
The slender, crooked-nosed woman whispers something to the sinewy, weather-worn man.
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf sits on a thick rug of quirri hide.
The sinewy, weather-worn man frowns and shakes his head at the slender, crooked-nosed woman.
At your table, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says in tribal-accented allundean, nodding slowly to the stern-eyed, weathered half-elf:
"Fair enough. I honor your words."
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf rests on a thick rug of quirri hide.
At your table, you say in allundean, shaking his head:
"I was the Chosen he -tried- to pull out of the Ivory."
The braided, ebony-skinned elf clucks her tongue once.
You think:
"This is fucking insane."
You think:
"Why did I ever agree to come out here?"
The sinewy, weather-worn man whispers something to the slender, crooked-nosed woman.
The stern-eyed, weathered half-elf smiles faintly, watching the lithe, sandy-haired elf.
Leaning back briefly, the amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf whispers something to the slender, crooked-nosed woman.
At your table, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says in tribal-accented allundean, offering a faint inclination of her head as she draws in another breath:
"It would not grieve you, then, to know it was I who saw to his end."
You suffer from use of the Way.
Pushing up from his chair, the sinewy, weather-worn man says to the slender, crooked-nosed woman, in sirihish:
"Here, you sit. Yer the only one what can make use of it, anyhow."
At your table, you say in allundean, smiling thinly to the lithe, sandy-haired elf:
"I am...pleased to hear that."
The sinewy, weather-worn man stands up from a large stone table.
The amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf looks over those assembled at the table and raises a hand to the braided, ebony-skinned elf.
Just past the arrow slits, A reddish-shelled inix puffs through its nostrils and bobs its head.
At your table, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says in tribal-accented allundean, shifting her gaze to you:
"..But I wonder, why would a Servant of the Dragon impose upon you?"
Nodding toward the arrow-slits, the raw-boned, top-knotted elf says to the corded, bronze-hued male elf, in allundean:
"Benu of the Sand Jakhals."
Crinkling her nose, causing it to bend comically to the left, the slender, crooked-nosed woman whispers something to the sinewy, weather-worn man.
The sinewy, weather-worn man gives an amused grunt.
Smiling softly, the amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf whispers something to the braided, ebony-skinned elf.
At your table, you say in allundean, with a sudden chuckle, his voice grating:
"Because I tried to trap him in the City. Our plan almost succeeded, but he escaped at the last moment."
The braided, ebony-skinned elf's lips curve at the edges towards the amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf.
Leaning to her other side, crouching between her and the sinewy, weather-worn man, the slender, crooked-nosed woman whispers something to the amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf.
Just past the arrow slits, the very tall figure in a dusty hooded, darkly-stained sandcloth greatcloak opens the gate from the other side.
Just past the arrow slits, the very tall figure in a dusty hooded, darkly-stained sandcloth greatcloak has arrived from the north.
Just past the arrow slits, the very tall figure in a dusty hooded, darkly-stained sandcloth greatcloak closes the gate.
At your table, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says in tribal-accented allundean, nodding towards you, her voice intertwining with the ghostly whispers around her:
"What force did you bring to stop him?"
Just past the arrow slits, the very tall figure in a dusty hooded, darkly-stained sandcloth greatcloak runs south.
The amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf nods gently to the slender, crooked-nosed woman and leans back in towards the table.
Just past the arrow slits, A grey-scaled, silver-shelled inix puffs through its nostrils and bobs its head.
You suffer from use of the Way.
The sinewy, weather-worn man stops holding his ceramic mug.
Setting it down, the sinewy, weather-worn man puts his ceramic mug onto a large stone table.
Speaking up and watching those gathered, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says, in tribal-accented allundean:
"You should -all- be shielding your minds right now, as if it wasn't a given."
You suffer from use of the Way.
At your table, you say in allundean, his gaze set firmly on the lithe, sandy-haired elf:
"Me? Only my wits and the Lyksaean Warriors. The Templarate used their own methods."
Voice taking on a warm, gentle tint, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says, in tribal-accented allundean:
"To be truly alone is deep magick."
The sinewy, weather-worn man steps back from a large stone table and crosses his arms before him.
The amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf nods lightly to the lithe, sandy-haired elf.
The braided, ebony-skinned elf shifts slightly on the chair, readjusting her rounded, darkly-stained leather quiver before relaxing, one thumb hooking on her belt.
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf lounges on a thick rug of quirri hide, paying little attention to a large stone table.
Tilting her head and pushing a knotted twist of brown hair from her cheek, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says to the lithe, sandy-haired elf, in sirihish:
"That's how come ah'm helpin Nahkt over here this way, wit whatever allundean he ain't unnerstandin. Elsewise ah'd be in'is head instead."
At your table, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says in tribal-accented allundean, softly, to you:
"There are ranks within the Servants, fairly similar to the Sun Legion's militia, you see?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You think:
"deep magick my fucking shithole. This is kankshit."
emote grunts an affirmative to ~shattered
The freckled, light-skinned man grunts an affirmative to the lithe, sandy-haired elf.
The slender, crooked-nosed woman whispers something to the sinewy, weather-worn man.
At your table, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says in tribal-accented allundean, softly:
"Sharak was a lesser servant, serving an androgynous ghost. Horoz was even a little less than that."
The sinewy, weather-worn man nods to the slender, crooked-nosed woman.
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf has lost link.
l
The Desert Rose [ES Quit]
Entering this busy bar is like stepping into a dimly-lit cave, the
thick stone walls keeping it comfortably cool inside and adding to the
cave-like feel of the place. A constant buzz of conversation fills the
room, which is populated by elves from a variety of tribes. Narrow arrow
slits on the western wall are draped with sandcloth to block the heat of the
afternoon sun, but still let in a scant measure of filtered light. The
sandcloth covers are rolled up and tied at dusk to let in the cool night
breezes. The bar is on the north wall, and tables and chairs, most of them
occupied, are grouped about the room in the shadows. On the south wall, a
clear area provides a spot for dancing or entertainment to be performed. An
elaborate archway in the eastern wall allows entry to a vibrantly-hued room,
smoke writhing out past its entry curtain.
The desert elf outpost message board is propped up against the wall here.
A multi-ringed dartboard hangs on a wall here.
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf is reclining on a thick rug of quirri hide.
The amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf is sitting at a large stone table.
The slender, crooked-nosed woman is standing here.
The lithe, sandy-haired elf is sitting at a large stone table.
The corded, bronze-hued male elf is sitting at a large stone table.
The braided, ebony-skinned elf is sitting at a large stone table.
The red maned, anakore-tattooed elf is standing here.
The burly, red-haired woman stands at attention.
The sinewy, weather-worn man is standing here.
The stern-eyed, weathered half-elf is sitting at a large stone table.
The leanly muscled, topknotted elf is sitting at a large stone table.
A sinewy, ebon-skinned elf leans against the western wall, surveying the bar.
The dark-haired elf is standing here.
A slender, cold-eyed elven woman stands behind the bar, pouring drinks.
At your table, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says in tribal-accented allundean, gesturing with a hand across the table:
"What I think a lot of people miss, though you have seemed to pick up on, Thrend...is that the conflict isn't truly Echri."
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf has reconnected.
You think:
"If she says the conflict has something to do with magick, I could not give more of a flying fuck about it."
At your table, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says in tribal-accented allundean, exhaling faintly, a few whisps of Suk-Krath's sparks traversing her form:
"..It is the Servants that need to be removed, because they will.."
At your table, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says in tribal-accented allundean, pausing, towards the slender, crooked-nosed woman:
"..You are transmitting this psionically?"
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf looks up at the slender, crooked-nosed woman.
Shuddering, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says to the lithe, sandy-haired elf, in sirihish:
"Fuck no. Ah said that's why ah'm whisperin here ta Nahkt. Ah'm translatin."
The red maned, anakore-tattooed elf lands his gaze on the slender, crooked-nosed woman.
The braided, ebony-skinned elf's eyes shift towards the slender, crooked-nosed woman.
pemote gaze latches onto %shattered face, a muscle in his cheek twitching.
The freckled, light-skinned man's gaze latches onto the lithe, sandy-haired elf's face, a muscle in his cheek twitching.
Just past the arrow slits, A reddish-shelled inix stretches its hind legs, arching its back.
The slender, crooked-nosed woman says to the lithe, sandy-haired elf, in sirihish:
"Ah put ma wall up soon as ah came through th'gates."
You think:
"Yep, I was right. Fucking abomination."
At your table, the stern-eyed, weathered half-elf says in allundean, clearing his throat, glancing across the table:
"Are there uny servants of Echri trat kavi ychiened beieg Dragony themselves? Durhaps I may by misumdorsoanfing."
At your table, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says in tribal-accented allundean, apologetically, with a nod:
"I heard something. I apologize, sweetheart."
The lithe, sandy-haired elf returns her gaze towards you, collecting her hands together on the table again.
You suffer from use of the Way.
At your table, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says in tribal-accented allundean, to you:
"..The Dragon consumes, but the Servants will rip apart the world. They will kill everything you love and know, first, so that Life can be drawn without conflict."
Just past the arrow slits, A reddish-shelled inix puffs through its nostrils and bobs its head.
You think:
"...Sun King, give me the clarity to think clearly about what to say and do, or I might say something incredibly stupid."
At your table, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says in tribal-accented allundean, softly:
"If the Servants never come, Echri will arrive at an entire planet mounting an offense, and he will easily lose."
Brow furrowed, the sinewy, weather-worn man whispers something to the slender, crooked-nosed woman.
Moccasins drag against the floor as the braided, ebony-skinned elf shifts her legs back against the chair, teal gaze shifting from the lithe, sandy-haired elf to you.
You suffer from use of the Way.
The lithe, sandy-haired elf trails a hand across the table, a line of rich soil materializing and following her fingers as she half-closes her eyes.
You think:
"I feel like I am meeting with an army of gith to help me fight an army of mantis."
You suffer from use of the Way.
At your table, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says in tribal-accented allundean, after a moment's pause:
"That said.."
Shaking her head and frowning, the slender, crooked-nosed woman whispers something to the sinewy, weather-worn man.
You think:
"This is insane. I suppose since in this case the mantis are much more dangerous....it is worth it. Until the mantis are destroyed at least."
The stern-eyed, weathered half-elf nods slowly.
At your table, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says in tribal-accented allundean, softly:
"We can organize our priorities. Even lesser servants are very dangerous."
The slender, crooked-nosed woman whispers something to the sinewy, weather-worn man.
You think:
"Remember, Thrend, choose your battles...magickers must be killed, but there is a time and a place for them to be destroyed."
At your table, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says in tribal-accented allundean, to you:
"I will go out and take a risk here. There is at least one spy here who will inform the Northern Templarate, another the Southern Orders, and yet one more a Thrall itself."
The lithe, sandy-haired elf shifts her gaze around those gathered, a faint smile crossing her normally solemn features.
Sourly, the sinewy, weather-worn man whispers something to the slender, crooked-nosed woman.
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf lifts his eyebrows at the lithe, sandy-haired elf.
Blinking, the slender, crooked-nosed woman asks the lithe, sandy-haired elf, in sirihish:
"Here, right now?"
At your table, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says in tribal-accented allundean, to you:
"..Seek the Council."
At your table, the leanly muscled, topknotted elf says in allundean, lifting a hand as he listens to the lithe, sandy-haired elf:
"It's not me."
The amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf raises her brows as she gazes at the lithe, sandy-haired elf.
The braided, ebony-skinned elf's lips twitch.
The red maned, anakore-tattooed elf smirks, shaking his head.
At your table, you say in allundean, quirking a brow towards the lithe, sandy-haired elf:
"Council? The Triumvirate?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You think:
"Speak plainly, abomination."
The sinewy, weather-worn man's eyes settle on the lithe, sandy-haired elf, his expression flat.
With a grumble, the slender, crooked-nosed woman whispers something to the sinewy, weather-worn man.
At your table, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says in tribal-accented allundean, waving a hand and shaking her head:
"Pah. No, not your Pure. Deeper south, Chosen..the very thing your city repulses is what you seek."
At your table, you say in allundean, blinking a few times:
"You mean..."
At your table, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says in tribal-accented allundean, wrinkling her nose and closing her eyes:
"The highest eschelons are poisoned."
talk (taking great care to say the word without absolutely spitting it out)Magick?
At your table, you say in allundean, taking great care to say the word without absolutely spitting it out:
"Magick?"
At your table, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says in tribal-accented allundean, opening her eyes again, ghostly white whisps swirling around her:
"..Specifically, what magick-wielders?"
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf sits up properly now, listening unmasked to the conversations at a large stone table.
You think:
"Oh, Sun King...smack this "Shattered" aside her head and make her speak plainly so that your servant may understand what the FUCK she means."
With a grunt, the sinewy, weather-worn man whispers something to the slender, crooked-nosed woman.
You suffer from use of the Way.
With a grunt, the sinewy, weather-worn man whispers something to the slender, crooked-nosed woman.
The slender, crooked-nosed woman whispers something to the sinewy, weather-worn man.
Just past the arrow slits, A grey-scaled, silver-shelled inix stretches its hind legs, arching its back.
At your table, you say in allundean, smiling thinly towards the lithe, sandy-haired elf:
"You'll have to...forgive me. The thing which my city despises...is utterly abhorred by my House."
The red maned, anakore-tattooed elf intently scans the area.
At your table, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says in tribal-accented allundean, to you, her voice slowing a little:
"I am not offended, since I do not use magick in any traditional sense."
Just past the arrow slits, A grey-scaled, silver-shelled inix puffs through its nostrils and bobs its head.
You think:
"And by me. Of course."
At your table, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says in tribal-accented allundean, to you:
"Your anger can be your weapon, as long as it doesn't traverse the gulf to hate - that is the path of Echri."
The sinewy, weather-worn man whispers something to the slender, crooked-nosed woman.
The corded, bronze-hued male elf settles into his seat, attention languid on the lithe, sandy-haired elf.
The slender, crooked-nosed woman whispers something to the sinewy, weather-worn man.
At your table, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says in tribal-accented allundean, to you, softly:
"Gathered together in the quarter of Allanak is a Council of Gemmed Mages. If you seek where poison, Nilaz, and the Dragon lay, look no further, for now."
At your table, you say in allundean, simply:
"Nilaz. I have heard of this...word. It is associated with dead and death things."
At your table, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says in tribal-accented allundean, offering a faint inclination of her head:
"It can be, but it also represents pure neutrality. Nilaz also indicates nothingness. Which means..the absense of Life."
The braided, ebony-skinned elf clucks her tongue softly.
Shuddering again, this time more obviously, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"It's nasty shit Sir. Most regular magickers don't even wanna deal wit'em."
You suffer from use of the Way.
At your table, the stern-eyed, weathered half-elf says in allundean, nodding firmly:
"I have encountered a Nilazi myself."
The leanly muscled, topknotted elf leans back into his chair, arms crossing against his chest. He maintains a peculiar, focused watch on you.
At your table, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says in tribal-accented allundean, shifting her gaze to the table and intoning to you slowly:
"..Thus, anything associated with Nilaz should probably worry you."
Curiously, the sinewy, weather-worn man whispers something to the slender, crooked-nosed woman.
The slender, crooked-nosed woman nods to the sinewy, weather-worn man.
At your table, the stern-eyed, weathered half-elf says in allundean:
"Five rigures, ssumblina across the sorth eoad. Neither dead nor alive. They would be killed, ius stand again."
At your table, you say in allundean, his gaze alighting on the lithe, sandy-haired elf again:
"I'll go with dead, then. So this Council needs to be destroyed?"
Just past the arrow slits, A grey-scaled, silver-shelled inix stretches its hind legs, arching its back.
At your table, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says in tribal-accented allundean, softly, to you, with a faint shake of her head:
"Not entirely, but the current representatives are mostly beings of darkness."
You think:
"I feel like an elf at a roundear party."
Just past the arrow slits, A grey-scaled, silver-shelled inix opens its jaws, letting its tongue dart out to lick its nostrils.
At your table, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says in tribal-accented allundean, closing her eyes:
"I have not moved my hand in this matter yet. Perhaps it will be left to the North to determine their devotion to the cause."
At your table, you say in allundean, bluntly:
"To be entirely honest, that's not good enough. Do you have names?"
At your table, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says in tribal-accented allundean, to you, gently:
"And to be entirely honest, if you, Tuluki, are not seeking the deaths of Council members actively for -what- they are, there is already a problem."
At your table, you say in allundean, letting out a harsh laugh in response to the lithe, sandy-haired elf:
"Oh, I am ready to actively seek their deaths for what they are right now."
You think:
"Being abominations is a damned good enough reason for me."
At your table, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says in tribal-accented allundean, to you:
"Seek the Fire Caller Valla, and the Wind Shifter Naclyn. This is not my gift to you.."
You suffer from use of the Way.
think ...well, says me, who is talking to some sort of magick-touched woman.
You think:
"...well, says me, who is talking to some sort of magick-touched woman."
You feel confused.
At your table, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says in tribal-accented allundean, gesturing to each elf gathered:
"..it is the Elan Pah's gift to you, to represent their interest in a mutual effort together with House Lysake."
The slender, crooked-nosed woman whispers something to the sinewy, weather-worn man.
At your table, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says in tribal-accented allundean, correcting herself:
"Lyksae."
The sinewy, weather-worn man nods to the slender, crooked-nosed woman.
The braided, ebony-skinned elf's eyes slide towards the corded, bronze-hued male elf.
At your table, you say in allundean, in response to the lithe, sandy-haired elf:
"I'd say the "mutual effort" is more like two folk fighting against a foe from different angles...rather than together from the same direction."
At your table, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says in tribal-accented allundean, to you, softly:
"Maybe that's the problem."
You suffer from use of the Way.
The red maned, anakore-tattooed elf lowers his brows.
At your table, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says in tribal-accented allundean, softly:
"I will tell you this - when the true Thralls begin to appear, they will breathe death upon entire armies. Without unity, there is utterly no hope."
At your table, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says in tribal-accented allundean:
"That you choose to make a journey to this Outpost today indicates to me that unity is not out of the question for you. At the very least, let's work towards it."
Her brown-eyed gaze flitting between you and the lithe, sandy-haired elf, the slender, crooked-nosed woman whispers something to the sinewy, weather-worn man.
The stern-eyed, weathered half-elf nods firmly to the lithe, sandy-haired elf.
At your table, you say in allundean, blinking a few times, his forehead furrowing:
"...I would have to bring any such measure before my House first. I can tell you that the entire situation makes a...strangely compelling argument."
At your table, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says in tribal-accented allundean, her voice softening, a little warmth within the depths of the arcane whispers around her:
"Truly consider it, together, as Zalanthan's all, we are very powerful."
At your table, you say in allundean:
"...but when I look at it from here, I cannot see how working...alongside...the Pah, rather than from another angle...is not the same thing."
At your table, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says in tribal-accented allundean, looking then to each person individually at the table:
"Love. Hope. Belief. Forgiveness. These are -all- of your weapons against Echri, no matter who you are, or what sword, magick, or psionics you wield."
At your table, the leanly muscled, topknotted elf says in allundean, lowering an eyebrow skeptically toward you, even as he leans back into his chair:
"Fact is, even if you hate our Gifted and don't wish to work with us, you'll have to. Whatever we could do, the enemy will do worse."
You think:
"What kind of bardic shit is this? Love, hope? Sounds like a bad Konviwedu composition."
You think:
"Sun King, I am going to go crazy."
The corded, bronze-hued male elf drinks green honey mead from his ceramic mug.
The freckled, light-skinned man clenches his teeth tightly, his jaw making a very soft grating noise as he stares down at a large stone table.
The freckled, light-skinned man's gaze shifts to your ceramic mug.
At your table, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says in tribal-accented allundean, softly, to you:
"Thrend..the time has come to put old hatreds aside and attempt to understand each of us equally as life being threatened on this planet."
The freckled, light-skinned man blinks a couple of times, then eagerly downs the rest of your ceramic mug.
You drink the green honey mead.
You do not feel thirsty.
The corded, bronze-hued male elf tips his ceramic mug to his mouth, a brief grin showing.
The corded, bronze-hued male elf drinks green honey mead from his ceramic mug.
At your table, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says in tribal-accented allundean:
"Nobody gathered here expects it to happen immediately. Very few, likely, even believe it can be done."
Eyes on you, the sinewy, weather-worn man whispers something to the slender, crooked-nosed woman.
Licking her lips as she interjects, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says, in sirihish:
"If ya don't mind me buttin in...maybe ah kin splain ta th'Chosen...or at least say somethin what might make'im not look like he's about ta bust a vein."
The stern-eyed, weathered half-elf turns, gazing at you with a neutral expression.
At your table, the braided, ebony-skinned elf says in tribal-accented allundean, raising a gloved hand to thumb at her nose before speaking:
"There was a time that Soh and Blackwing hunted gifted but they put aside their hatred and work together with all. It takes time but you have to decide what is more important.."
At your table, the braided, ebony-skinned elf says in tribal-accented allundean, lowering her hand:
"Life or old hatreds."
At your table, you say in allundean, wiping his mouth with the back of one hand as he glances to the slender, crooked-nosed woman, his expression only slightly relaxing:
"I'll take a listen to the Kuraci first, then."
You think:
"I cannot decipher what to do."
The lithe, sandy-haired elf falls silent, drawing her attention to the slender, crooked-nosed woman.
You suffer from use of the Way.
Padding over to your side of the full table and crouching again, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says, in sirihish:
"Aright.."
You think:
"They make a compelling argument, but...my House. Me. Fuck, I can't believe I'm even -considering- this."
You think:
"I'm not considering it, no."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You think:
"I'm only bringing THEIR idea to my House. That's all."
Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Ya see, Sir. Ain't no one askin ya ta learn ta like magickers or even wit elfs fer that matter."
The stern-eyed, weathered half-elf's face becomes drawn with impatience, his gaze still locked on you.
You begin speaking sirihish.
The corded, bronze-hued male elf puts his ceramic mug onto a large stone table.
Her shoulders lifting, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Ah'm a grebber, ah weren't ne'er taught one way or another, so ah do as ah like, and fuck anyone what don't like it. But that's me."
You suffer from use of the Way.
Nodding toward several elves seated at a large stone table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"But these folk here, is willin - and even askin - ta work -wit- Tuluk. A city what'd kill'em on sight if they was ever caught near th'gates."
At your table, the leanly muscled, topknotted elf says in allundean, scratching at his chin as he observes you:
"So, I don't know much about the Pits. Why do they call you Chosen? Who chose you, and what for?"
At your table, the corded, bronze-hued male elf says in allundean, as he slides his ceramic mug over a large stone table:
"We'll call our meet'ere. More'a think on than speak."
Her tone softening, the slender, crooked-nosed woman asks you, in sirihish:
"All they're askin, is fer ya ta put yer feelins about'em on hold. Fer awhile. Ta help deal wit th'bigger prollem. Fair enough, Sir?"
You begin speaking allundean.
The corded, bronze-hued male elf touches a fingertip to his lips on a glance for the leanly muscled, topknotted elf.
The freckled, light-skinned man nods slightly towards the slender, crooked-nosed woman, then shifts his attention to the leanly muscled, topknotted elf.
Shifting her gaze to the corded, bronze-hued male elf and leaning over, the lithe, sandy-haired elf whispers something to the corded, bronze-hued male elf.
You suffer from use of the Way.
Rising up from the table slowly, the lithe, sandy-haired elf stands up from a large stone table.
You suffer from use of the Way.
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf looks up at the lithe, sandy-haired elf.
With a look after the lithe, sandy-haired elf, the corded, bronze-hued male elf says, in allundean:
"You spoke well. Shade."
You suffer from use of the Way.
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf inclines his head up to the lithe, sandy-haired elf.
Gazing across the table and speaking softly as she rises, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says, in tribal-accented allundean:
"We can win this battle through love and forgiveness. We need to give each other a chance."
The leanly muscled, topknotted elf lifts his shoulders to the corded, bronze-hued male elf. With a sigh, he falls silent, leaning into his chair.
At your table, you say in allundean, his response coming to the fore easily:
"The Sun King chose my people"
Her gaze warming as she regards you face, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Thanks Chosen, Sir. Ah knew ya'd unnerstand."
emote nods simply towards ~leanly.
The freckled, light-skinned man nods simply towards the leanly muscled, topknotted elf.
The slender, crooked-nosed woman rises and returns back to stand between the amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf and the sinewy, weather-worn man.
The stern-eyed, weathered half-elf dips his head to the lithe, sandy-haired elf.
You think:
"Love and forgiveness?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
Lowering her voice into a solemn plea, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says, in tribal-accented allundean:
"You are all wise, and you all have a choice to make. I pray to you all that you choose the path of protection for these beautiful lands."
You suffer from use of the Way.
The lithe, sandy-haired elf says, in tribal-accented allundean:
"Never lose hope, never lose faith. It is always there, beside you all."
You think:
"I'll love and forgiveness a mace aside that bitch's head if she keeps flouting such airy shit."
Aside, the sinewy, weather-worn man whispers something to the slender, crooked-nosed woman.
With a faint smile, the lithe, sandy-haired elf says, in tribal-accented allundean:
"I've spoken more than enough. A fine Barani to you all."
Lifting her hand to wave at her, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says to the lithe, sandy-haired elf, in sirihish:
"Ah - twas good ta see ya agin ole friend. We'll talk, another day. Smooth sands."
The lithe, sandy-haired elf slowly fades from view.
The Desert Rose [ES Quit]
Entering this busy bar is like stepping into a dimly-lit cave, the
thick stone walls keeping it comfortably cool inside and adding to the
cave-like feel of the place. A constant buzz of conversation fills the
room, which is populated by elves from a variety of tribes. Narrow arrow
slits on the western wall are draped with sandcloth to block the heat of the
afternoon sun, but still let in a scant measure of filtered light. The
sandcloth covers are rolled up and tied at dusk to let in the cool night
breezes. The bar is on the north wall, and tables and chairs, most of them
occupied, are grouped about the room in the shadows. On the south wall, a
clear area provides a spot for dancing or entertainment to be performed. An
elaborate archway in the eastern wall allows entry to a vibrantly-hued room,
smoke writhing out past its entry curtain.
The desert elf outpost message board is propped up against the wall here.
A multi-ringed dartboard hangs on a wall here.
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf is reclining on a thick rug of quirri hide.
The amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf is sitting at a large stone table.
The slender, crooked-nosed woman is standing here.
The corded, bronze-hued male elf is sitting at a large stone table.
The braided, ebony-skinned elf is sitting at a large stone table.
The red maned, anakore-tattooed elf is standing here.
The burly, red-haired woman stands at attention.
The sinewy, weather-worn man is standing here.
The stern-eyed, weathered half-elf is sitting at a large stone table.
The leanly muscled, topknotted elf is sitting at a large stone table.
A sinewy, ebon-skinned elf leans against the western wall, surveying the bar.
The dark-haired elf is standing here.
A slender, cold-eyed elven woman stands behind the bar, pouring drinks.
The freckled, light-skinned man blinks a few times, then glances to the corded, bronze-hued male elf.
You suffer from use of the Way.
After observing the sandy-haired elf fade away, the leanly muscled, topknotted elf turns his head, grinning.
Just past the arrow slits, someone opens the gate.
You think:
"Fuck me. Damn it."
l
The Desert Rose [ES Quit]
Entering this busy bar is like stepping into a dimly-lit cave, the
thick stone walls keeping it comfortably cool inside and adding to the
cave-like feel of the place. A constant buzz of conversation fills the
room, which is populated by elves from a variety of tribes. Narrow arrow
slits on the western wall are draped with sandcloth to block the heat of the
afternoon sun, but still let in a scant measure of filtered light. The
sandcloth covers are rolled up and tied at dusk to let in the cool night
breezes. The bar is on the north wall, and tables and chairs, most of them
occupied, are grouped about the room in the shadows. On the south wall, a
clear area provides a spot for dancing or entertainment to be performed. An
elaborate archway in the eastern wall allows entry to a vibrantly-hued room,
smoke writhing out past its entry curtain.
The desert elf outpost message board is propped up against the wall here.
A multi-ringed dartboard hangs on a wall here.
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf is reclining on a thick rug of quirri hide.
The amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf is sitting at a large stone table.
The slender, crooked-nosed woman is standing here.
The corded, bronze-hued male elf is sitting at a large stone table.
The braided, ebony-skinned elf is sitting at a large stone table.
The red maned, anakore-tattooed elf is standing here.
The burly, red-haired woman stands at attention.
The sinewy, weather-worn man is standing here.
The stern-eyed, weathered half-elf is sitting at a large stone table.
The leanly muscled, topknotted elf is sitting at a large stone table.
A sinewy, ebon-skinned elf leans against the western wall, surveying the bar.
The dark-haired elf is standing here.
A slender, cold-eyed elven woman stands behind the bar, pouring drinks.
Just past the arrow slits, someone closes the gate from the other side.
Gaing toward the now-empty space on the floor, the slender, crooked-nosed woman whispers something to the sinewy, weather-worn man.
You suffer from use of the Way.
Setting it on a large stone table, you discard your ceramic mug.
At your table, you say in allundean, letting out a grunt as he speaks, his lips pulled back tightly against his teeth:
"I think we've covered enough for this discussion."
At your table, the corded, bronze-hued male elf says in allundean, iolite gaze settled for you:
"Ah don' have anything to say. They've said ta much. You're ready to ride?"
It is late morning on Barani, the 131st day of the Ascending Sun,
In the Year of Ruk's Peace, year 37 of the 21st Age.
At your table, you say in allundean, nodding to the corded, bronze-hued male elf:
"Yes. Quite."
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf stands up from a thick rug of quirri hide.
The braided, ebony-skinned elf's lips twitch at the edges.
Looking toward the slits in the wall, the sinewy, weather-worn man whispers something to the slender, crooked-nosed woman.
At your table, the leanly muscled, topknotted elf says in allundean, lifting his chin as speaks to you, adopting a cordial tone:
"Nice meeting you."
Rising to his feet, you stand up from a large stone table.
The stern-eyed, weathered half-elf stands up from a large stone table.
Pushing away from his chair, the leanly muscled, topknotted elf stands up from a large stone table.
With a grunt, you say to the leanly muscled, topknotted elf, in allundean:
"Spice's yours. Enjoy it."
The slender, crooked-nosed woman whispers something to the sinewy, weather-worn man.
The raw-boned, top-knotted elf says to the corded, bronze-hued male elf, in allundean:
"I'll run with them to the White Road."
You suffer from use of the Way.
The braided, ebony-skinned elf gets her ceramic mug from a large stone table.
You pull your pair of spiked, chitin-backed gauntlets onto your hands.
With a nod aside to the raw-boned, top-knotted elf, the corded, bronze-hued male elf says, in allundean:
"Good."
The stern-eyed, weathered half-elf walks south.
Just past the arrow slits, the raw-boned, top-knotted elf has arrived from the south.
Just past the arrow slits, the stern-eyed, weathered half-elf has arrived from the south.
With a tipped nod for you, the corded, bronze-hued male elf says, in allundean:
"Tohego will be ya guide to the white road, his eyes ah sharp."
Pushing off her seat, the amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf stands up from a large stone table.
You suffer from use of the Way.
Thoughtfully, the slender, crooked-nosed woman asks the corded, bronze-hued male elf, in allundean:
"Want me ta stick around?"
Just past the arrow slits, The raw-boned, top-knotted elf frees some mounts from a wooden pole and arranges them near the gate.
Nodding to him, you say to the corded, bronze-hued male elf, in allundean:
"Shade, then..."
Just past the arrow slits, the raw-boned, top-knotted elf opens the gate.
You begin speaking sirihish.
The sinewy, weather-worn man whispers something to the slender, crooked-nosed woman.
The corded, bronze-hued male elf stands up from a large stone table.
Pushing it aside, the braided, ebony-skinned elf discards her ceramic mug.
With a rise from his seat, the corded, bronze-hued male elf says to you, in allundean:
"Shade."
Turning southward, the amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf says, in tribal-accented allundean:
"I'll make my way to the Gem. Be safe."
The amber-hued, obsidian-eyed elf walks south.
Nodding to the sinewy, weather-worn man and the slender, crooked-nosed woman, you say, in sirihish:
"Thanks for the ride."The Desert Rose [ES Quit]
Entering this busy bar is like stepping into a dimly-lit cave, the thick stone walls keeping it comfortably cool inside and adding to the cave-like feel of the place. A constant buzz of conversation fills the room, which is populated by elves from a variety of tribes....
Continue Reading...Not very subtle, are you? by Maglos
Added on Jan 22, 2011Thrend and a potential partisan run into a problem. Thrend, in his typical proud, selfish, and arrogant manner, decides to take matters into his own hands on the sly, using the disturbance to test that potential partisan and rid the City of one undesirable.
-------
Thrend arrives at the Sanctuary after being informed about some disturbance. (think this was in a previous log but I didn't dig it up)
-------
The Sun King's Sanctuary [NESWUD]
A polished, white marble floor covers the ground of this expansive
room, gleaming under the light of a large glass chandelier that hangs
overhead. A semi-circular bar, made of hard-grained wood painted a deep
black, extends from the eastern wall, several high-backed barstools sitting
around it. The walls of this room are brightly decorated, with several
elaborate paintings placed carefully for unobstructed view, and shelves
holding many exotic potted plants, blooming with bright red and white
flowers. Two large stained-glass windows, decorated with elaborate sun
symbols, adorn the northwest and southeast corners of the room.
Several decoratively carved tables fill this room, while a polished
leather couch nearly ten cords in length sprawls along the northern wall. A
stately spiral staircase sits in the center of the room, winding upwards
toward the common rooms of the second floor. The sounds of laughter and
music can be heard from a doorway along the western wall, while the scents
of cooked meat waft in from the east. A small, straight stairway sits along
the northern wall, ending at a slightly raised loft and a large carven
baobab door sits in the southern wall, leading out onto the North Road
outside.
The Tuluk bulletin board is here propped up on a stand.
The ochre-eyed, lissome man is standing here.
The weatherworn, fuzzy-haired old man is sitting on a supple, black leather couch.
The broad, harsh-looking woman is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The svelte, bronzed man is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The lithe, tanned man is standing here.
The short haired, heavy-set man stands here mug in-hand.
The tall, well-groomed man sits here on a plush couch.
The gaunt, black-haired man is here, leaning on the bar.
The plump, tawny-skinned woman sits on a stool, strumming on her mandolin.
The long-haired, middle-aged man stands behind the counter.
The burly, red-haired woman has arrived from the south.
You lower the hood of a hooded, mace-stitched grey linen cloak.
At 1) a supple, black leather couch are:
the weatherworn, fuzzy-haired old man, and a few empty seats.
At 2) a black-painted bar are:
the broad, harsh-looking woman, the svelte, bronzed man,
and some empty seats.
At 3) a long, white painted table are:
some empty seats.
At 4) an intimate, dimly lit table are:
a couple of empty seats.
At 5) a highly polished table are:
a few empty seats.
The lithe, tanned man nods politely to you.
In a hooded, mace-stitched grey linen cloak (used) :
a green chitin archery brace
a pile of coins
The broad, harsh-looking woman clenches and unclenches her fist, ignoring the lithe, tanned
man.
Heading to the stairs, the ochre-eyed, lissome man walks up.
The freckled, light-skinned man makes his way through the tavern, wrapping your hooded, mace-
stitched grey linen cloak more tightly around his form.
At a black-painted bar, the broad, harsh-looking woman speaks, to the svelte, bronzed man.
Easing down onto a stool, you sit at a black-painted bar.
The lithe, tanned man sits at a black-painted bar.
The broad, harsh-looking woman notices you and lowers her head to her, awkwardly.
The svelte, bronzed man inclines his head in a nod, respectfully, in your direction .
You are using:
inva black-scaled leather surmac a black-scaled leather gorget a new black-scaled leather longvest a black-scaled leather vambrace a leather and chitin strap-sheath a pair of black leather and chitin scaled gauntlets a slender crimson and silver ring a ruby and moonstone inlaid, silver signet ring a glossy, black leather swordbelt a silver-etched, stone-spiked mace a bloodied narrow-hilted, jaded khopesh blade a hooded, mace-stitched grey linen cloak a grey, black, and crimson silk sash a pair of black-scaled leather leggings a pair of black-scaled leather boots
You are carrying:
nothing.
Glancing down a black-painted bar, you look at the svelte, bronzed man.
This human male looks like he has lived a life in the wilderness.
He has scraggly hair hanging haphazardly to just about shoulder length. He is
above average height for his race, and seems to carry himself well, his
movements seeming natural, not laboured. His svelte figure is adorned with
many tattoos of random beasts. Bronzed all over, his muscles appear more
toned. His skin is hairless from neck to foot, no doubt due to his life in
the intense heat. His blue eyes bring his face to life, a playful
glint within.
The svelte, bronzed man is in excellent condition.
The svelte, bronzed man is using:a tough tandu-leather cap a blue and purple inked band a long, agate-headed spear a rough canvas backpack a pair of carru leather sleeves a scrab shell wristguard a studded hide wrist-wrap a tattoo of a six-pronged star a hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth duster a sweat-stained pair of sandcloth and leather leggings a pair of grey hide boots
He is carrying:
nothing obvious
The broad, harsh-looking woman notices you and lowers her head to you, awkwardly.
It is early morning on Waleuk, the 160th day of the Ascending Sun,
In the Year of Suk-Krath's Anger, year 43 of the 21st Age.
At your table, you say in sirihish, lacing his gauntleted fingers together in his lap:
"Such a fine morning."
At your table, the broad, harsh-looking woman says in sirihish, turning her broad back towards
the lithe, tanned man:
"A real nice morning, Chosen Lord."
At your table, the lithe, tanned man says in sirihish, Nodding his head in agreement:
"Definitely so Chosen lord"
At your table, the broad, harsh-looking woman says in sirihish, to the svelte, bronzed man:
"Notice the Coward isn't speaking anymore?"
At your table, the lithe, tanned man says in sirihish, With a grin to you:
"I think someone needs a drink Chosen Lord"
The freckled, light-skinned man glances briefly over to the broad, harsh-looking woman and
then to the lithe, tanned man.
The svelte, bronzed man nods minimally.
The slim, golden-haired woman has arrived from the north.
At your table, the broad, harsh-looking woman says in sirihish, rolling her eyes:
"I'm trying."
The lithe, tanned man gives the long-haired, middle-aged bartender many coins in exchange for
a finely made glass goblet.
The lithe, tanned man offers his finely made glass goblet to you.
At your table, you say in sirihish, flicking his attention back to the lithe, tanned man:
"Aren't you a bit old to be cajoling folk into trying to kill you?"
He is older than you.
He is about the same size as you.
He weighs about the same as you.
The lithe, tanned man is in excellent condition.
The lithe, tanned man does not look tired.
Holding out his finely made glass goblet, the lithe, tanned man says to you, in sirihish:
"I was speaking of buying a drink for you Chosen Lord"
The broad, harsh-looking woman's eyes flick to you and she unclenches her fists.
The svelte, bronzed man nods in agreement.
The slender, tea-skinned male has arrived from the south, panting softly as #me steps through
the doorway.
The lithe, tanned man looks up at the slender, tea-skinned male.
The dark-blond, tall human has arrived from the south.
At your table, you say in sirihish, waving a hand in dismissive response to the lithe, tanned
man:
"No, thank you. I'm going to be training shortly."
The weatherworn, fuzzy-haired old man looks up at the dark-blond, tall human.
The slim, golden-haired woman runs north.
Pulling out a stool, the slender, tea-skinned male sits at a black-painted bar.
The dark-blond, tall human says to the slender, tea-skinned male, in sirihish:
"Hey there."
The dark-blond, tall human opens a dusty sizeable leather backpack.
The dark-blond, tall human closes a dusty sizeable leather backpack.
The dark-blond, tall human sits down at the bar.
The dark-blond, tall human sits at a black-painted bar.
The dark-blond, tall human looks at the slender, tea-skinned male.
Lips curling upwards as he bobs his head, the slender, tea-skinned male asks the dark-blond,
tall human, in sirihish:
"How goes?"
At your table, the dark-blond, tall human says in sirihish:
"Everythin' pretty normal, and yourself ?"
The lithe, tanned man shrugs his shoulders and downs his finely made glass goblet in one gulp.
The lithe, tanned man drinks reynolte-dry from his finely made glass goblet.
The dark-blond, tall human looks at the lithe, tanned man.
The lithe, tanned man looks at the dark-blond, tall human.
At your table, the slender, tea-skinned male says in sirihish, drawing a deep breath before
speaking:
"A'right... 'Tok out on th' road 'gain."
The dark-blond, tall human sheathes a dusty razor-edged, obsidian tomahawk.
The dark-blond, tall human sheathes a dusty one-handed, crescent-bladed axe.
Ignoring the lithe, tanned man, the broad, harsh-looking woman looks at the slender, tea-
skinned male.
At your table, the slender, tea-skinned male says in sirihish, shaking his head with a short
chuckle:
"Couldn' find m'spears, an' some skinny's followin' me 'round."
At your table, the lithe, tanned man says in sirihish, Looking down at the broad, harsh-
looking woman:
"Okay lady, maybe it's time we settled things, what do you want from me?"
The dark-blond, tall human looks at the broad, harsh-looking woman.
Slowly gazing down the bar, the slender, tea-skinned male looks at the svelte, bronzed man.
The weatherworn, fuzzy-haired old man chuckles, glancing towards the bar.
The dark-blond, tall human looks at the weatherworn, fuzzy-haired old man.
At your table, the broad, harsh-looking woman says in sirihish, narrowing her eyes at the
lithe, tanned man:
"You and I go somewhere noone's going to care, and I punch you until I feel better."
The svelte, bronzed man has lost link.
The svelte, bronzed man has reconnected.
The dark-blond, tall human chuckles quietly.
The freckled, light-skinned man smirks ever so slightly.
At your table, the dark-blond, tall human says in sirihish, to the broad, harsh-looking woman:
"What's the problem ?"
The svelte, bronzed man nods affirmatively.
At your table, the svelte, bronzed man says in sirihish:
"That's the only reasonable solution I can see. "
The dark-blond, tall human looks at the svelte, bronzed man.
At your table, the broad, harsh-looking woman says in sirihish, to the dark-blond, tall human:
"I'm going to make him bleed. No problem."
The broad, harsh-looking woman looks at the dark-blond, tall human.
At your table, the dark-blond, tall human says in sirihish:
"Yeah, but why ?"
At your table, the lithe, tanned man says in sirihish, Shrugging his shoulders:
"I was out in the woods and she tried to take my sid"
At your table, the lithe, tanned man says in sirihish:
"I wouldn't give it up, she got mad, here we are"
At your table, the dark-blond, tall human says in sirihish, with a frown:
"Is that so ?"
At your table, the broad, harsh-looking woman says in sirihish, after looking him over:
"After I kick him in the balls I few times, I'll tell you."
The dark-blond, tall human looks at the lithe, tanned man.
The dark-blond, tall human looks at the broad, harsh-looking woman.
At your table, the dark-blond, tall human says in sirihish, to the lithe, tanned man:
"You're a woodworker ?"
At your table, the broad, harsh-looking woman says in sirihish, narrowing eyes at the lithe,
tanned man:
"Coward, don't lie. You called me stupid, then have taunted me since."
Raising a brow, the slender, tea-skinned male looks at the broad, harsh-looking woman.
At your table, the svelte, bronzed man says in sirihish, to the lithe, tanned man:
"Was this before or after you insulted her mother?"
The dark-blond, tall human stands up from a black-painted bar.
At your table, the lithe, tanned man says in sirihish:
"this was very much before"
The dark-blond, tall human says, in sirihish:
"Fuck, I gotta leave."
The dark-blond, tall human walks up.
At your table, the broad, harsh-looking woman says in sirihish, to the lithe, tanned man:
"Well, Coward? We going somewhere?"
At your table, the svelte, bronzed man says in sirihish:
"And before you called her fat?"
At your table, the lithe, tanned man says in sirihish:
"this was before i called her fat also"
The broad, harsh-looking woman opens a rough canvas backpack.
At your table, the svelte, bronzed man says in sirihish, nodding:
"I see."
The broad, harsh-looking woman gets her small portion of a travel cake from her rough canvas
backpack.
The broad, harsh-looking woman eats her small portion of a travel cake.
The broad, harsh-looking woman closes a rough canvas backpack.
At your table, the broad, harsh-looking woman says in sirihish:
"And when you stole my shield?"
At your table, the lithe, tanned man says in sirihish, Raising an eyebrow:
"You mean the shield that I picked up after you tried to hit me with it and the same one
that neck ran off with?"
At your table, the lithe, tanned man says in sirihish, Looking over at the svelte, bronzed
man:
"All I was trying to do was take a rest in the woods and this is the result"
At your table, the broad, harsh-looking woman says in sirihish, frowning:
"I tried to put you in a headlock when you were laughing at me, you idiot."
At your table, you say in sirihish, shifting his attention back to the lithe, tanned man and
the broad, harsh-looking woman:
"It seems that you two wish to resolve the matter."
At your table, the broad, harsh-looking woman says in sirihish, after a sigh:
"Sorry, Chosen Lord. I'm trying...I really am..."
At your table, the lithe, tanned man says in sirihish:
"I personally have nothing to do with her, I am just trying to find out what her problem
is"
At your table, you say in sirihish, blinking at the lithe, tanned man:
"Then resolve the matter. Stop insulting the woman like a Southron, it is unbecoming."
At your table, the broad, harsh-looking woman says in sirihish, to the lithe, tanned man:
"Come on then. I'll never talk to you again after I pummel you for a while."
At your table, the lithe, tanned man says in sirihish, Glancing over at you:
"She only wishes to resort to violence and violence mind you for something she started,
I personally want her to stay out of my affairs, before you came in, she was the one taunting
me"
At your table, the lithe, tanned man says in sirihish:
"see what I mean?"
At your table, the broad, harsh-looking woman says in sirihish, to the svelte, bronzed man:
"Was I?"
At your table, you say in sirihish, peering at the lithe, tanned man, then the broad, harsh-
looking woman:
"Alright. Both of you, come with me. I have the solution."
Rising to his feet, you stand up from a black-painted bar.
The lithe, tanned man stands up from a black-painted bar.
The broad, harsh-looking woman stands up from a black-painted bar.
The broad, harsh-looking woman falls in behind you.
With a subtle smirk, the slender, tea-skinned male looks up at the lithe, tanned man.
The freckled, light-skinned man lets out a longsuffering sigh and glances back to a black-
painted bar.
You raise the hood of a hooded, mace-stitched grey linen cloak.
North Road [NESW]
The stark white of this wide stone road lies nestled between the rise
and fall of a conglomerated jumble of eclectically styled buildings.
Passing through the city, the road is kept clean of any blowing sand and
forest debris. The pale backbone cuts a decisive line east across the
bustling metropolis towards what remains of the Old City.
The pale white of the road merges with a newer road just to the east.
Further in the distance, the crumbled ruins of the old city can be seen
rising up above the newer walls that have been built up around them. Set on
the north side of the road is a large two-story tavern. On the south side
of the road is a large wagon yard.
A down-trodden group of Allanaki refugees shuffles down the road.
The lanky, russet-haired lad lounges by the tavern.
The wiry, obsidian-haired Jihaen templar is standing here.
The broad, harsh-looking woman has arrived from the north.
The burly, red-haired woman has arrived from the north.
The lithe, tanned man has arrived from the north.
The lithe, tanned man falls in behind you.
The svelte, bronzed man has arrived from the north.
North Salt Road [NSW]
Rows of pale stones form the backbone for this broad avenue, settled
into the ground with graceful fervor. Decorating the edge of the street,
the buildings and storefronts are universally adorned with garish and tawdry
sculptures, bas reliefs, and murals. The road is filled with a continual
throng of humans and demi-humans alike as they scurry about the bustle of
daily life.
The sounds of a rowdy commotion spills out onto the streets from the
building to the west. A trio of humanoid sculptures are caught before the
junction between two roads, the crowds passing around them. An odd-looking
sculpture surrounds a stone bench off to one side of the road.
The tawny, blonde-haired woman strolls down the street, eyes bright.
A few colorful individuals sit in a circle on the street corner, drumming.
The lithe, tanned man has arrived from the west.
The broad, harsh-looking woman has arrived from the west.
The burly, red-haired woman has arrived from the west.
The Red Sun Commons [NESW]
The chaotic roar of the tumultuous clamor within the commons fills the
air with a constant din, building into a flooding crescendo as deals are
bartered. Throngs of humans and demi-humans flock from one multi-colored
tent to another, ducking in and between the various stands that have been
erected along the breadth of the commons. Craftsmen and tradesmen alike
wander the sandstone grounds, mingling themselves with the rest in search of
opportunity. The scents of the commons, myriad and varied in their potency
and origins, mingle together to create a somewhat acrid and sweaty feel to
the atmosphere.
A mound of dung, heaped shoulder high, stands here.
A sour-faced dwarf hunches here, buying dung.
The lithe, tanned man has arrived from the north.
The broad, harsh-looking woman has arrived from the north.
The burly, red-haired woman has arrived from the north.
The Red Sun Commons [ESW]
The chaotic roar of the tumultuous clamor within the commons fills the
air with a constant din, building into a flooding crescendo as deals are
bartered. Throngs of humans and demi-humans flock from one multi-colored
tent to another, ducking in and between the various stands that have been
erected along the breadth of the commons. Craftsmen and tradesmen alike
wander the sandstone grounds, mingling themselves with the rest in search of
opportunity. The scents of the commons, myriad and varied in their potency
and origins, mingle together to create a somewhat acrid and sweaty feel to
the atmosphere.
The lithe, tanned man has arrived from the east.
The broad, harsh-looking woman has arrived from the east.
The burly, red-haired woman has arrived from the east.
As he slows to a stop in the Commons, you say, in sirihish:
"Alright. Here's what I propose."
You look at the lithe, tanned man.
This man is of very average height with his hair at a length no longer
than the bottom of his ears. His skin is rather unremarkable, lightly
tanned from exposure to the sun and slightly smooth. His eyes are a dull
brown with no outstanding features and set evenly in his head beneath rather
neatly groomed eyebrows. His hair is a dark black blend with streaks of
grey running through it. His body is lithe and lightly muscled, resembling
the normal Zalanthan human physique.
The lithe, tanned man is in excellent condition.
The lithe, tanned man is using:a long-handled, flint lumber axe a sizeable leather backpack a blue and purple inked band an unlit large wooden torch a hooded, black sandcloth windcloak a pair of rough canvas pants a pair of grey hide boots
He is carrying:
nothing obvious
The broad, harsh-looking woman stands apart from the lithe, tanned man, eyes on you.
The svelte, bronzed man has arrived from the east.
You say to the lithe, tanned man, in sirihish:
"The woman here wishes to challenge you, so I suggest you both oblige each other and beat
on each other until one or both parties are satisfied."
The svelte, bronzed man keeps his distance.
With a frown, the lithe, tanned man says, in sirihish:
"That's what she wants, I want her to stop her violence toward me"
The mighty sun begins to crawl across the western sky.
You say to the lithe, tanned man, in sirihish:
"As it's not appropriate to do this just anywhere, I suggest on the grounds of my Estate
in the sparring yard."
The broad, harsh-looking woman smiles at the lithe, tanned man.
Nodding, the broad, harsh-looking woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Sounds fair to me, Chosen Lord."
The svelte, bronzed man frowns.
The weatherworn, fuzzy-haired old man has arrived from the east.
The lithe, tanned man says, in sirihish:
"she has assaulted me three times, I'd say she has more than had her turn"
Looking him up and down, the weatherworn, fuzzy-haired old man looks at the lithe, tanned man.
Rolling her eyes, the broad, harsh-looking woman says to the lithe, tanned man, in sirihish:
"I'll just use my fists."
Nodding agreeably, the svelte, bronzed man says, in sirihish:
"Seems like the only solution."
The weatherworn, fuzzy-haired old man glances at you, inclining his head as he does.
Quirking a brow curiously, you ask the lithe, tanned man, in sirihish:
"do you taunt bahamets?"
You ask the lithe, tanned man, in sirihish:
"And then complain afterwards when they rip into your organs?"
The svelte, bronzed man grins.
The lithe, tanned man says, in sirihish:
"I disagree with the solution since it is only fair for one party, besides, she did her
fair share of taunting"
Lifting his linen clad shoulders in a shrug, you ask the lithe, tanned man, in sirihish:
"You disagree with -my- solution?"
Staring at the lithe, tanned man with a deep frown, you ask the lithe, tanned man, in
sirihish:
"Are you aware of where you are, citizen?"
The broad, harsh-looking woman folds her muscular arms, watching the lithe, tanned man.
With a nod, the lithe, tanned man says to you, in sirihish:
"Aye Chosen Lord, I am aware of where I am, but if the Law is to be just and fair, then
hauling off citizens at your whim because of another party that has no claim"
Narrowing his pale green eyes on the lithe, tanned man, you say to the lithe, tanned man, in
sirihish:
"This is not the first time you have deemed yourself wiser than His Chosen. And where
you are is, in point of fact, the Red Sun Commons."
The broad, harsh-looking woman looks with shock at the lithe, tanned man.
The lithe, tanned man says, in sirihish:
"then surely we are no better than living in the south"
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The weatherworn, fuzzy-haired old man sends you a telepathic message:
"This fella... well he ain't too smart, but I guess you can see that."
The figure in a hooded, mace-stitched grey linen cloak smiles politely over at the lithe,
tanned man.
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
Beckoning with one hand, you say to the lithe, tanned man, in sirihish:
"You've got quite a bit of spunk for a citizen. I think I can use people like that."
The lithe, tanned man moves closer to you.
Waving her off, you say to the broad, harsh-looking woman, in sirihish:
"He's quite right, Rosie. You should certainly stop taunting him."
You stop leading the broad, harsh-looking woman.
The svelte, bronzed man looks shocked.
The broad, harsh-looking woman nods to you.
Stepping lightly, you say to the lithe, tanned man, in sirihish:
"We'll head to the Lyksaen Estate. I'll get you outfitted properly."
------
Thrend takes the "potential partisan" to the Estate. The follow conversation occurs on the way there.
------
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the broad, harsh-looking woman with the Way.
Glancing back to the lithe, tanned man, you ask the lithe, tanned man, in sirihish:
"You don't already have employment with some other patron, do you, Omanet?"
The late, red sun descends toward the western horizon.
The red orb of Jihae, the red moon, begins to vanish as it slowly sets.
The pale face of the white moon, Lirathu, rises over the agafari trees.
You send this message to the staff:
"Just an FYI, Thrend is going to have Rosie beat the hell out of Omanet inside the
Lyksaen Estate, and then let him disappear quietly."
You send this message to the staff:
"I would have just gone for the "beat the hell out of Omanet" but he has insulted His
Chosen in front of many witnesses. That's a no-no."
Lowering his shoulders, the lithe, tanned man says to you, in sirihish:
"I hope I have not offended you Chosen Lord"
Tugging down his hood, you ask the lithe, tanned man, in sirihish:
"Offended me? How could you have offended me?"
You lower the hood of a hooded, mace-stitched grey linen cloak.
Pausing before the gates, you ask the lithe, tanned man, in sirihish:
"You do realize, however, that speaking such things in public--outright against His
Chosen and His City--are not to be done, yes?"
The lithe, tanned man glances around him.
Sheisett's Plaza [NEW]
Here, massive gates lead out of Tuluk's Noble's Quarter. The road has
been laid by a circular pattern of white alabaster and red jasper stones,
creating a massive work of art that portrays a blazing sun. The gates
themselves, lying at the north end of the circle, are made of a
crisscrossing pattern of polished agafari, both attractive and
extraordinarily sturdy. The pattern formed by the gates' wood ends at the
top by curved spires, blackened at their tops.
The lithe, tanned man has arrived from the north.
The burly, red-haired woman has arrived from the north.
Nodding as he speaks, the lithe, tanned man says to you, in sirihish:
"Aye Chosen Lord, I do understand"
Dipping his head agreeably, you ask the lithe, tanned man, in sirihish:
"Are you familiar with the Red Sun Commons?"
Lowering his head as he speaks, the lithe, tanned man says to you, in sirihish:
"I do admit that I have erred"
Nodding his head, the lithe, tanned man says, in sirihish:
"Aye, I am familiar with the commons"
You suffer from use of the Way.
Gesturing grandly towards the gates to the south, you ask the lithe, tanned man, in sirihish:
"And here we are, the Lyksaen Estate. Have you been here before, Omanet?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the broad, harsh-looking woman:
"Find my mind when you are near the gates, Rosie."
The lithe, tanned man looks up toward the gates in awe.
His face lighting up, the lithe, tanned man says, in sirihish:
"I have not Chosen Lord"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You think:
"Rosie will kill him, I'm fairly sure."
You think:
"A good way to prove herself, too."
Nodding once, you say to the lithe, tanned man, in sirihish:
"Well. I'll show you about the Courtyard."
The burly, mohawked man stops using his etched, red stone key.
The burly, mohawked man unlocks the gates with an etched, red stone key.
The burly, mohawked man opens the gates.
The burly, mohawked man steps aside, allowing you to pass.
The Courtyard of House Lyksae [NEW]
The overall impression of this courtyard is one of greyness, as that
color has been used in the stones forming the walls to the east, west, and
south. To the north is a gate of charred bone, offering a slightly
contrasting shade of grey, as well as the occasional glimpse of a more
colorful world beyond it. Even the landscaping, such as it is, is grey,
with stout short bushes at each of the courtyard's four corners. The focal
point in all this greyness is a statue at the center of the courtyard,
surrounded by a series of lightening circles of stones, the centermost being
black, and those at the edge being a pale dun.
To the west, a door leads into the manor house, inset with a panel of
bright crimson silk in the shape of a rising sun. To the east, through a
door painted with a mace, is a more humble building.
A sizable stone building has been built against the southern wall.
A muscular man, sculpted life-size from granite, stands here triumphantly.
The weathered, burly-armed man stands watch at the gates.
The lithe, tanned man has arrived from the north.
The burly, red-haired woman has arrived from the north.
The burly, mohawked man closes the gates from the other side.
You suffer from use of the Way.
The lithe, tanned man looks back as the large mohawked man closes the gates behind him.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The broad, harsh-looking woman sends you a telepathic message:
"I'm there now, Chosen Lord."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
Clearing his throat, you ask the lithe, tanned man, in sirihish:
"Different regions of His City are governed by His Chosen--were you aware of that?"
You send a telepathic message to the broad, harsh-looking woman:
"I'll get you inside shortly."
You dissolve the psychic link.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You are unable to reach their mind.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You are unable to reach their mind.
Shrugging his shoulders, the lithe, tanned man says to you, in sirihish:
"I was aware of that but not exactly who is in charge of where"
Dipping his head, you say to the lithe, tanned man, in sirihish:
"I'm the Governor of the Red Sun Commons."
Nodding his head as he speaks, the lithe, tanned man says, in sirihish:
"I see now"
The last spire fades to darkness as Suk-Krath abandons the city to night.
Pursing his lips thoughtfully, you say to the lithe, tanned man, in sirihish:
"And you called His City no better than the South."
Wrinkling his brow, the lithe, tanned man says to you, in sirihish:
"Begging your pardon Chosen Lord, but I was actually saying that in context, relating to
my prior comment concerning the young lady in question"
You say to the lithe, tanned man, in sirihish:
"Well, I am a man with many solutions, for many problems. Hold here for just a moment,
good citizen."
You stop leading the lithe, tanned man.
The weathered, burly-armed man stops using his etched, red stone key.
The weathered, burly-armed man unlocks the gates with an etched, red stone key.
The weathered, burly-armed man opens the gates.
The weathered, burly-armed man steps aside, allowing you to pass.
Before the Gates of House Lyksae [ES]
Lengthy slabs of mekillot bone have been laced together with woven
ropes of kylori sinew to create an imposing and austere set of gates that
bar movement to the south. The tips of the bone slabs have been hewn to
sharpened protrusions and blackened with fire, creating a churning swirl of
sooty black that cascades down the length of the bleached bone.
The azure and amber of the granite paving stones form a broad circle
before the gates of the estate, twining around in ever-decreasing spirals.
Circling this courtyard are stands of loreshi shrubs that lend a darker and
more earthen contrast to the outer ring of the plaza.
Secured to the wall by a wooden frame is a fire-scorched copper wardrum.
The broad, harsh-looking woman stands here to the side.
The burly, mohawked man stands staunchly before the gate.
The burly, red-haired woman has arrived from the south.
The weathered, burly-armed man closes the gates from the other side.
The freckled, light-skinned man beckons to the broad, harsh-looking woman.
Simply, you say to the broad, harsh-looking woman, in sirihish:
"Keep your temper in check."
You think:
"...how to -do- this?"
The broad, harsh-looking woman falls in behind you.
The broad, harsh-looking woman nods to you.
The burly, mohawked man stops using his etched, red stone key.
The burly, mohawked man unlocks the gates with an etched, red stone key.
The burly, mohawked man opens the gates.
The burly, mohawked man steps aside, allowing you to pass.
The Courtyard of House Lyksae [NEW]
The overall impression of this courtyard is one of greyness, as that
color has been used in the stones forming the walls to the east, west, and
south. To the north is a gate of charred bone, offering a slightly
contrasting shade of grey, as well as the occasional glimpse of a more
colorful world beyond it. Even the landscaping, such as it is, is grey,
with stout short bushes at each of the courtyard's four corners. The focal
point in all this greyness is a statue at the center of the courtyard,
surrounded by a series of lightening circles of stones, the centermost being
black, and those at the edge being a pale dun.
To the west, a door leads into the manor house, inset with a panel of
bright crimson silk in the shape of a rising sun. To the east, through a
door painted with a mace, is a more humble building.
A sizable stone building has been built against the southern wall.
A muscular man, sculpted life-size from granite, stands here triumphantly.
The weathered, burly-armed man stands watch at the gates.
The lithe, tanned man is standing here.
The broad, harsh-looking woman has arrived from the north.
The burly, red-haired woman has arrived from the north.
The burly, mohawked man closes the gates from the other side.
Turning her attention towards him, the broad, harsh-looking woman looks down at the lithe,
tanned man.
The lithe, tanned man looks up at the broad, harsh-looking woman.
Pointing over to the broad, harsh-looking woman, you say to the lithe, tanned man, in
sirihish:
"This is Rosie. I believe you two have met."
The lithe, tanned man says, in sirihish:
"we have been acquainted a few times, yes"
The broad, harsh-looking woman's eyes narrow on the lithe, tanned man but she says nothing.
You ask the lithe, tanned man, in sirihish:
"You said things were not fair. Well, who determines what is fair?"
You stop leading the burly, red-haired woman.
The lithe, tanned man says to you, in sirihish:
"I guess it depends on who is in charge Chosen Lord"
Nodding in agreement with the lithe, tanned man, you ask the lithe, tanned man, in sirihish:
"And who, precisely, is in charge?"
You ask the lithe, tanned man, in sirihish:
"I think it fair for both of you to have your conflict and be done with it. Am I not a
fair Chosen Lord?"
Nodding as he speaks and looking around the courtyard, the lithe, tanned man says to you, in
sirihish:
"from where I stand Chosen Lord, that would be you"
You think:
"Patience, Thrend. Perhaps he can be useful somehow besides dying."
Dropping his arms, the lithe, tanned man says to you, in sirihish:
"She is free to have her conflict chosen Lord, I tire of her constant attacks, but I
will not fight her"
The broad, harsh-looking woman looks about to say something then closes her mouth firmly.
Quirking a shaped eyebrow at the lithe, tanned man, you say to the lithe, tanned man, in
sirihish:
"And why not? You have instigated the entire ordeal."
The night has begun.
You say to the lithe, tanned man, in sirihish:
"You wish to fight like a Southron--hurl blunt insults as though they are weapons, then
hide behind false claims when the seeds you have sown have grown into an unmanageable mess."
You say to the lithe, tanned man, in sirihish:
"Oh, His City is -very- fair, indeed, Omanet. And very different from the South--for,
had you been in the South, you would have been slain outright for slandering the very City you
live in."
The lithe, tanned man says to you, in sirihish:
"I will not dispute your words Chosen Lord, however I still stand behind the fact that
there are other factors at work that noone is willing to listen to"
The lithe, tanned man says to you, in sirihish:
"Let us have this be done with Chosen Lord, let us let herhave her way, I am man enough
to face consequences"
Dipping his head, you say to the lithe, tanned man, in sirihish:
"Indeed. I think that would be appropriate."
The lithe, tanned man says to the broad, harsh-looking woman, in sirihish:
"have your way woman, I won't fight you"
You say, in sirihish:
"Come with me, you will square off in the yard."
The broad, harsh-looking woman looks to the lithe, tanned man and shrugs.
Glancing distastefully to a life-sized granite statue of a muscular man, you say, in sirihish:
"I will not have blood spilled or violence done beneath this memorial."
An Orderly Mess Hall [EW]
Everything in this cooking and dining area has been arranged with
military precision, tall baobab cabinets standing at attention on either
side of the cooking ovens. Sturdy baobab benches are in precise formation
with their matching tables, which are in turn squared off on the northern
side of the room. But although there is not a single touch of disorder
about the place, it is not precisely clean, either, being tinged with smoke
from the cooking and curing of food.
A couple of sturdy baobab tables are here.
A sturdy baobab tun is full of clean drinking water.
The smoke-smudged, wide-eyed young woman stands before the stoves here.
The broad, harsh-looking woman has arrived from the west.
The broad, harsh-looking woman narrows her eyes at the lithe, tanned man.
Beckoning briefly, you say to the lithe, tanned man, in sirihish:
"Come laong."
The lithe, tanned man falls in behind you.
A Dimly Lit Barracks [NWD Quit Save]
This windowless room is relatively cool and dim, although a bit
stuffy. Earthy scents waft into it from the adjoining rooms: smoke and
victuals from the mess hall to the west, and dust and sweaty bodies through
the doorway to the north. Hammocks are strung from the rafters and support
beams, each slightly personalized by an article of clothing or some personal
effect. At the head of each hammock hangs a thick woven-grass net in which
additional belongings are stowed. In the southeast corner, beside a table,
a trapdoor leads down into the ground.
A thick rug of quirri hide is here laid out near the hammocks.
A plain chest of maroon baobab hardwood sits here.
An elongated, heavy trunk made of agafari lies here.
A simple wooden chest sits here on the floor.
The stern, iron-braided woman watches over the trapdoor.
The slim, porcelain-skinned maiden sits behind a needle-covered table.
The lithe, tanned man has arrived from the west.
The broad, harsh-looking woman has arrived from the west.
A Covered Training Yard [SU Save]
This spacious yard is walled in on all four sides, with a door leading
into the building to the south. Hard-packed reddish sand forms the ground
here, dusty and stained in spots with what might be blood. At the center of
the yard is a circle lined in granite tiles marking out the main sparring
area, but officers can be seen giving private instruction outside this area.
Overhead, a series of wooden catwalks provide a measure of shade while also
serving as a vantage point for the guards that patrol them.
A shadow falls over the area, driving off the uncomfortable heat.
An empty hefty wooden barrel sits here.
A dwarf sized chunk of raw salt is here.
A couple of simple wooden chests are here off in a far corner of the yard, away from the
sparring area.
An elongated, heavy trunk made of agafari lies here.
The lithe, tanned man has arrived from the south.
The broad, harsh-looking woman has arrived from the south.
In a heavy agafari trunk (here) :
a new hammer-carved wooden shield
a couple of short bone sparring swords
a short bone sparring spear
an used round tortoiseshell shield
a long wooden-bladed training halberd
a couple of wood-bladed training staves
several slim wooden training daggers
some wooden training longswords
a few slim wooden training clubs
a few slim wooden training axes
l in chest
In a simple wooden chest (here) :
an untanned rough, mangy hide
some long lengths of bone
You are carrying:
nothing.
The broad, harsh-looking woman looks from the lithe, tanned man to you.
Nodding towards an empty ring of sand, you say, in sirihish:
"Enjoy yourselves. It seems both of you have a lot to learn."
The freckled, light-skinned man stands stoically by a dwarf sized jagged boulder of salt.
Moving out further into the yard, the broad, harsh-looking woman asks the lithe, tanned man,
in sirihish:
"Why will my life be numbered in moments?"
The broad, harsh-looking woman stops using her open sleeveless robe.
You begin watching the broad, harsh-looking woman.
The lithe, tanned man moves out into the yard with a grin on his face.
Tossing it to the ground at the edge of the circle, the broad, harsh-looking woman drops her
open sleeveless robe.
You think:
"Hmm. She needs to learn to be more subtle."
You think:
"Definitely."
You think:
"But...she does have that violent spirit. And that is something we need."
Watching him with narrowed eyes as she stretches, the broad, harsh-looking woman asks the
lithe, tanned man, in sirihish:
"Only speaking in my mind?"
The lithe, tanned man whispers something to the broad, harsh-looking woman.
Pushing the lithe, tanned man away, the broad, harsh-looking woman says to the lithe, tanned
man, in sirihish:
"Speak louder."
The broad, harsh-looking woman balls up her fists, approaching the lithe, tanned man.
The lithe, tanned man drops his fists to his side.
With a heavy sigh, you say to the lithe, tanned man, in sirihish:
"The other difference in the South and His City that I'm afraid you're unfamiliar with is
that no one will ever find out what happened to you. Before you insulted -me-, you had a
chance."
The broad, harsh-looking woman swings just after you speaks.
The broad, harsh-looking woman attacks the lithe, tanned man.
The broad, harsh-looking woman hits the lithe, tanned man, barely grazing his body.
The broad, harsh-looking woman hits the lithe, tanned man, barely grazing his body.
The broad, harsh-looking woman swiftly dodges the lithe, tanned man's hits.
The lithe, tanned man swiftly dodges the broad, harsh-looking woman's hits.
The broad, harsh-looking woman stops attacking the lithe, tanned man.
The broad, harsh-looking woman swiftly dodges the lithe, tanned man's hits.
Dipping his head towards her, you say to the broad, harsh-looking woman, in sirihish:
"And you have a lot to learn, as well, partisan. You should not have stated your
intentions."
The lithe, tanned man drops an unlit large wooden torch.
The broad, harsh-looking woman swiftly dodges the lithe, tanned man's hits.
The broad, harsh-looking woman swiftly dodges the lithe, tanned man's hits.
The broad, harsh-looking woman swiftly dodges the lithe, tanned man's hits.
The broad, harsh-looking woman swiftly dodges the lithe, tanned man's hits.
The broad, harsh-looking woman looks towards you and nods, before swinging again at the lithe,
tanned man.
The broad, harsh-looking woman hits the lithe, tanned man, barely grazing his foot.
The broad, harsh-looking woman hits the lithe, tanned man, barely grazing his body.
The broad, harsh-looking woman hits the lithe, tanned man, barely grazing his leg.
The lithe, tanned man unslings a long-handled, flint lumber axe from his back.
The broad, harsh-looking woman hits the lithe, tanned man, barely grazing his body.
The lithe, tanned man's eyes roll back in his head.
A long-handled, flint lumber axe clatters to the ground as the lithe, tanned man releases it.
The lithe, tanned man crumples to the ground.
The broad, harsh-looking woman scowls, knocking out the lithe, tanned man as him unstraps a
long-handled, flint lumber axe.
As he inspects the lithe, tanned man, you say to the broad, harsh-looking woman, in sirihish:
"Not a bad form, for using no weapons."
Standing over top of you, the broad, harsh-looking woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Thank you, Chosen Lord."
The broad, harsh-looking woman says, out of character:
"oops"
Crossing his arms and staring at the broad, harsh-looking woman, you say to the broad, harsh-
looking woman, in sirihish:
"He is yours. Tell me what must be done to this one."
Looking down at the lithe, tanned man, the broad, harsh-looking woman says to you, in
sirihish:
"He told me that I should run to the south, he would have me killed."
The broad, harsh-looking woman looks down at the lithe, tanned man.
The broad, harsh-looking woman reaches down to pick up the lithe, tanned man by his hair.
Looking over, the broad, harsh-looking woman says to you, in sirihish:
"I think he's talking from his ass. But, who knows."
The broad, harsh-looking woman swings her fist at the lithe, tanned man again.
The broad, harsh-looking woman attacks the lithe, tanned man.
The broad, harsh-looking woman hits the lithe, tanned man on his head.
Dipping his head in agreement, you ask the broad, harsh-looking woman, in sirihish:
"We'll need to dispose of the body when you have killed him. You will need to learn to
think on your feet--so tell me, what happened to this man?"
The broad, harsh-looking woman takes the lithe, tanned man by the hair again, looking over at
you.
You ask the broad, harsh-looking woman, in sirihish:
"He ran off on the way to my Estate, and I did not see him again, did I?"
Balling her fist once more, the broad, harsh-looking woman says to you, in sirihish:
"I don't think anyone saw him again, Chosen Lord."
The broad, harsh-looking woman attacks the lithe, tanned man.
The broad, harsh-looking woman solidly hits the lithe, tanned man's head.
The broad, harsh-looking woman grins down at the lithe, tanned man before unstrapping her
stone-studded baobab flail.
The broad, harsh-looking woman draws a stone-studded baobab flail.
The broad, harsh-looking woman stops using her curved agafari shield.
The broad, harsh-looking woman brandishes her stone-studded baobab flail in both hands.
Raising her stone-studded baobab flail, the broad, harsh-looking woman says to you, in
sirihish:
"May want to step back, Chosen Lord."
You say to the broad, harsh-looking woman, in sirihish:
"A better option would have been to pretend that you were not angry with him, earlier."
her Stone-studded baobab flail raised, the broad, harsh-looking woman says to you, in
sirihish:
"I tried. I did."
The broad, harsh-looking woman attacks the lithe, tanned man.
The broad, harsh-looking woman brutally bludgeons the lithe, tanned man on his head.
The broad, harsh-looking woman raises her stone-studded baobab flail again, the left side of
his head caved in.
The broad, harsh-looking woman attacks the lithe, tanned man.
The broad, harsh-looking woman viciously bludgeons the lithe, tanned man on his head.
The freckled, light-skinned man watches impassively.
The giant crimson sun rises in the east.
Jihae, the red moon, rises up into the sky.
The broad, harsh-looking woman kicks at the lithe, tanned man with her feet, frowning.
The broad, harsh-looking woman says, in sirihish:
"Still breathing."
The broad, harsh-looking woman raises her stone-studded baobab flail high once more.
The broad, harsh-looking woman attacks the lithe, tanned man.
The broad, harsh-looking woman brutally bludgeons the lithe, tanned man on his head.
The broad, harsh-looking woman hits the lithe, tanned man a couple of times with her stone-
studded baobab flail.
The broad, harsh-looking woman attacks the lithe, tanned man.
The broad, harsh-looking woman bludgeons the lithe, tanned man's head, inflicting a grievous
wound.
The broad, harsh-looking woman attacks the lithe, tanned man.
The broad, harsh-looking woman bludgeons the lithe, tanned man's head, inflicting a grievous
wound.
The broad, harsh-looking woman finally steps away from the body of the lithe, tanned man.
Glancing to the body of the lithe, tanned man, then back to the broad, harsh-looking woman,
you say to the broad, harsh-looking woman, in sirihish:
"You have a bit to learn, I think...but good work."
You say, out of character:
"afk a moment"
Looking over after wiping some blood from her stone-studded baobab flail, the broad, harsh-
looking woman says to you, in
sirihish:
"I'll get rid of him. I'm willing to learn, Chosen Lord."
The broad, harsh-looking woman sheathes a stone-studded baobab flail.
The broad, harsh-looking woman moves away from the body of the lithe, tanned man to an open
sleeveless robe.
The broad, harsh-looking woman picks up an open sleeveless robe.
The broad, harsh-looking woman wears her open sleeveless robe about her body.
After putting her open sleeveless robe on, the broad, harsh-looking woman says to you, in
sirihish:
"I learned if I'm patient, I get what I want."
The broad, harsh-looking woman holds her curved agafari shield.
The broad, harsh-looking woman picks up a long-handled, flint lumber axe.
The broad, harsh-looking woman puts her long-handled, flint lumber axe into her rough canvas
backpack.
The broad, harsh-looking woman picks up an unlit large wooden torch.
The broad, harsh-looking woman puts her unlit large wooden torch into her rough canvas
backpack.
The broad, harsh-looking woman picks up the body of the lithe, tanned man.
The broad, harsh-looking woman swings her body of the lithe, tanned man over her shoulder,
grunting.
nod broad
You nod to her.
You say to the broad, harsh-looking woman, in sirihish:
"We need to get this moved somewhere. Let's see..."
You think:
"How to get rid of the body?"
You think:
"Could hack it into pieces..."
You think:
"...then shove him in a trunk. Maybe."
Gesturing with one hand, you say, in sirihish:
"We'll pack him on an inix, cover it with a rug."
A Dimly Lit Barracks [NWD Quit Save]
This windowless room is relatively cool and dim, although a bit
stuffy. Earthy scents waft into it from the adjoining rooms: smoke and
victuals from the mess hall to the west, and dust and sweaty bodies through
the doorway to the north. Hammocks are strung from the rafters and support
beams, each slightly personalized by an article of clothing or some personal
effect. At the head of each hammock hangs a thick woven-grass net in which
additional belongings are stowed. In the southeast corner, beside a table,
a trapdoor leads down into the ground.
A thick rug of quirri hide is here laid out near the hammocks.
A plain chest of maroon baobab hardwood sits here.
An elongated, heavy trunk made of agafari lies here.
A simple wooden chest sits here on the floor.
The athletic, olive-skinned man is standing here.
The stern, iron-braided woman watches over the trapdoor.
The slim, porcelain-skinned maiden sits behind a needle-covered table.
To the north: the broad, harsh-looking woman walks south.
The broad, harsh-looking woman has arrived from the north.
A Dimly Lit Barracks [NWD Quit Save]
This windowless room is relatively cool and dim, although a bit
stuffy. Earthy scents waft into it from the adjoining rooms: smoke and
victuals from the mess hall to the west, and dust and sweaty bodies through
the doorway to the north. Hammocks are strung from the rafters and support
beams, each slightly personalized by an article of clothing or some personal
effect. At the head of each hammock hangs a thick woven-grass net in which
additional belongings are stowed. In the southeast corner, beside a table,
a trapdoor leads down into the ground.
A thick rug of quirri hide is here laid out near the hammocks.
A plain chest of maroon baobab hardwood sits here.
An elongated, heavy trunk made of agafari lies here.
A simple wooden chest sits here on the floor.
The broad, harsh-looking woman is standing here.
- she is carrying the body of the lithe, tanned man.
The athletic, olive-skinned man is standing here.
The stern, iron-braided woman watches over the trapdoor.
The slim, porcelain-skinned maiden sits behind a needle-covered table.
An Orderly Mess Hall [EW]
Everything in this cooking and dining area has been arranged with
military precision, tall baobab cabinets standing at attention on either
side of the cooking ovens. Sturdy baobab benches are in precise formation
with their matching tables, which are in turn squared off on the northern
side of the room. But although there is not a single touch of disorder
about the place, it is not precisely clean, either, being tinged with smoke
from the cooking and curing of food.
A couple of sturdy baobab tables are here.
A sturdy baobab tun is full of clean drinking water.
The smoke-smudged, wide-eyed young woman stands before the stoves here.
To the east: the broad, harsh-looking woman walks west.
The broad, harsh-looking woman has arrived from the east.
The Courtyard of House Lyksae [NEW]
The overall impression of this courtyard is one of greyness, as that
color has been used in the stones forming the walls to the east, west, and
south. To the north is a gate of charred bone, offering a slightly
contrasting shade of grey, as well as the occasional glimpse of a more
colorful world beyond it. Even the landscaping, such as it is, is grey,
with stout short bushes at each of the courtyard's four corners. The focal
point in all this greyness is a statue at the center of the courtyard,
surrounded by a series of lightening circles of stones, the centermost being
black, and those at the edge being a pale dun.
To the west, a door leads into the manor house, inset with a panel of
bright crimson silk in the shape of a rising sun. To the east, through a
door painted with a mace, is a more humble building.
A sizable stone building has been built against the southern wall.
A muscular man, sculpted life-size from granite, stands here triumphantly.
The burly, red-haired woman stands at attention.
The weathered, burly-armed man stands watch at the gates.
To the east: the broad, harsh-looking woman walks west.
The broad, harsh-looking woman has arrived from the east.
You enter a sizable, gray stone building.
A Spacious Stable [Leave Save]
Rows of box stalls line the interior of this spacious, high-ceilinged
building, each one suitable for even the largest inix to reside in
comfortably. The creak of leather and the sounds of animals eating fills
the area. The flagstone paved ground underfoot is strewn with straw.
Slaves can be seen hurrying up and down the corridors of the stable, bearing
food, cleaning implements, and various bits of harness and leather.
A few large, wooden crates have been stacked in an empty stall.
A gargantuan lizard with glossy black scales stands here foraging for food.
A slender, striped cheotan lizard crouches here, nostrils flaring.
A huge, four-legged, reddish-shelled lizard is here, nosing about for forage.
A large yellow sunback lizard stands here.
A gargantuan lizard with glossy black scales stands here foraging for food.
The broad, harsh-looking woman has entered a sizable, gray stone building.
The broad, harsh-looking woman follows you, the arms of her body of the lithe, tanned man
hanging down.
The freckled, light-skinned man indicates a glossy, black-scaled inix with one gauntleted
hand.
The broad, harsh-looking woman straps her body of the lithe, tanned man to a glossy, black-
scaled inix's back.
The broad, harsh-looking woman wipes bloody hands on the inside of her open sleeveless robe.
A reddish-shelled inix puffs through its nostrils and bobs its head.
"A moment."
You are already standing.
Alas, you cannot go that way.
You stop leading the broad, harsh-looking woman.
leave
You step out to...
The Courtyard of House Lyksae [NEW]
The overall impression of this courtyard is one of greyness, as that
color has been used in the stones forming the walls to the east, west, and
south. To the north is a gate of charred bone, offering a slightly
contrasting shade of grey, as well as the occasional glimpse of a more
colorful world beyond it. Even the landscaping, such as it is, is grey,
with stout short bushes at each of the courtyard's four corners. The focal
point in all this greyness is a statue at the center of the courtyard,
surrounded by a series of lightening circles of stones, the centermost being
black, and those at the edge being a pale dun.
To the west, a door leads into the manor house, inset with a panel of
bright crimson silk in the shape of a rising sun. To the east, through a
door painted with a mace, is a more humble building.
A sizable stone building has been built against the southern wall.
A muscular man, sculpted life-size from granite, stands here triumphantly.
The burly, red-haired woman stands at attention.
The weathered, burly-armed man stands watch at the gates.
An Orderly Mess Hall [EW]
Everything in this cooking and dining area has been arranged with
military precision, tall baobab cabinets standing at attention on either
side of the cooking ovens. Sturdy baobab benches are in precise formation
with their matching tables, which are in turn squared off on the northern
side of the room. But although there is not a single touch of disorder
about the place, it is not precisely clean, either, being tinged with smoke
from the cooking and curing of food.
A couple of sturdy baobab tables are here.
A sturdy baobab tun is full of clean drinking water.
The athletic, olive-skinned man is standing here.
The smoke-smudged, wide-eyed young woman stands before the stoves here.
A Dimly Lit Barracks [NWD Quit Save]
This windowless room is relatively cool and dim, although a bit
stuffy. Earthy scents waft into it from the adjoining rooms: smoke and
victuals from the mess hall to the west, and dust and sweaty bodies through
the doorway to the north. Hammocks are strung from the rafters and support
beams, each slightly personalized by an article of clothing or some personal
effect. At the head of each hammock hangs a thick woven-grass net in which
additional belongings are stowed. In the southeast corner, beside a table,
a trapdoor leads down into the ground.
A thick rug of quirri hide is here laid out near the hammocks.
A plain chest of maroon baobab hardwood sits here.
An elongated, heavy trunk made of agafari lies here.
A simple wooden chest sits here on the floor.
The stern, iron-braided woman watches over the trapdoor.
The slim, porcelain-skinned maiden sits behind a needle-covered table.
You pick up a thick rug of quirri hide.
It is easily manageable.
An Orderly Mess Hall [EW]
Everything in this cooking and dining area has been arranged with
military precision, tall baobab cabinets standing at attention on either
side of the cooking ovens. Sturdy baobab benches are in precise formation
with their matching tables, which are in turn squared off on the northern
side of the room. But although there is not a single touch of disorder
about the place, it is not precisely clean, either, being tinged with smoke
from the cooking and curing of food.
A couple of sturdy baobab tables are here.
A sturdy baobab tun is full of clean drinking water.
The athletic, olive-skinned man is standing here.
The smoke-smudged, wide-eyed young woman stands before the stoves here.
The Courtyard of House Lyksae [NEW]
The overall impression of this courtyard is one of greyness, as that
color has been used in the stones forming the walls to the east, west, and
south. To the north is a gate of charred bone, offering a slightly
contrasting shade of grey, as well as the occasional glimpse of a more
colorful world beyond it. Even the landscaping, such as it is, is grey,
with stout short bushes at each of the courtyard's four corners. The focal
point in all this greyness is a statue at the center of the courtyard,
surrounded by a series of lightening circles of stones, the centermost being
black, and those at the edge being a pale dun.
To the west, a door leads into the manor house, inset with a panel of
bright crimson silk in the shape of a rising sun. To the east, through a
door painted with a mace, is a more humble building.
A sizable stone building has been built against the southern wall.
A muscular man, sculpted life-size from granite, stands here triumphantly.
The burly, red-haired woman stands at attention.
The weathered, burly-armed man stands watch at the gates.
You enter a sizable, gray stone building.
A Spacious Stable [Leave Save]
Rows of box stalls line the interior of this spacious, high-ceilinged
building, each one suitable for even the largest inix to reside in
comfortably. The creak of leather and the sounds of animals eating fills
the area. The flagstone paved ground underfoot is strewn with straw.
Slaves can be seen hurrying up and down the corridors of the stable, bearing
food, cleaning implements, and various bits of harness and leather.
A few large, wooden crates have been stacked in an empty stall.
The broad, harsh-looking woman is standing here.
A gargantuan lizard with glossy black scales stands here foraging for food.
- he is carrying the body of the lithe, tanned man.
A slender, striped cheotan lizard crouches here, nostrils flaring.
A huge, four-legged, reddish-shelled lizard is here, nosing about for forage.
A large yellow sunback lizard stands here.
A gargantuan lizard with glossy black scales stands here foraging for food.
Handing over the hastily rolled-up rug, you give your thick rug of quirri hide to the broad,
harsh-looking woman.
The broad, harsh-looking woman drapes her thick rug of quirri hide over the body on a glossy,
black-scaled inix.
You say to the broad, harsh-looking woman, in sirihish:
"Drape that over the body, and lead the inix on out of the gates out of His City. Dump
the body a few leagues away, and then return to the Sanctuary after you take the inix back
here."
You initiate the broad, harsh-looking woman into 'Servants of House Lyksae'.
The broad, harsh-looking woman arranges her thick rug of quirri hide over the body, tucking a
stray arm beneath.
Simply, you say to the broad, harsh-looking woman, in sirihish:
"Should be able to get in and out of the gates now with that inix."
The broad, harsh-looking woman nods to light.
The broad, harsh-looking woman nods to you.
The broad, harsh-looking woman begins leading a glossy, black-scaled inix.
Tugging on a glossy, black-scaled inix, the broad, harsh-looking woman says to you, in
sirihish:
"As you say, Chosen Lord. Thank you."
The broad, harsh-looking woman lowers her head to you, a happy grin on her face.
With another assessive glance over the broad, harsh-looking woman, the corners of his
features quirking upwards, you say to the broad, harsh-looking woman, in sirihish:
"We'll discuss this later. See me after you've taken the inix back. You are not to go
into the barracks."
You step out to...
The Courtyard of House Lyksae [NEW]
The overall impression of this courtyard is one of greyness, as that
color has been used in the stones forming the walls to the east, west, and
south. To the north is a gate of charred bone, offering a slightly
contrasting shade of grey, as well as the occasional glimpse of a more
colorful world beyond it. Even the landscaping, such as it is, is grey,
with stout short bushes at each of the courtyard's four corners. The focal
point in all this greyness is a statue at the center of the courtyard,
surrounded by a series of lightening circles of stones, the centermost being
black, and those at the edge being a pale dun.
To the west, a door leads into the manor house, inset with a panel of
bright crimson silk in the shape of a rising sun. To the east, through a
door painted with a mace, is a more humble building.
A sizable stone building has been built against the southern wall.
A muscular man, sculpted life-size from granite, stands here triumphantly.
The burly, red-haired woman stands at attention.
The weathered, burly-armed man stands watch at the gates.
You think:
"I think she'll work out."
You don't see that person here.
The broad, harsh-looking woman emerges from a sizable, gray stone building.
A glossy, black-scaled inix emerges from a sizable, gray stone building.
The burly, red-haired woman falls in behind you.
Thrend goes back to the Sanctuary.
You send this message to the staff:
"Rosie is taking the body outside of the city to dump a few leagues from the gates. She
has it stowed on an inix, and has RPed covering the body with a quirri rug she has."
You think:
"Well. That went well."
------
Thrend heads back to the Sanctuary.
------
The Sun King's Sanctuary [NESWUD]
A polished, white marble floor covers the ground of this expansive
room, gleaming under the light of a large glass chandelier that hangs
overhead. A semi-circular bar, made of hard-grained wood painted a deep
black, extends from the eastern wall, several high-backed barstools sitting
around it. The walls of this room are brightly decorated, with several
elaborate paintings placed carefully for unobstructed view, and shelves
holding many exotic potted plants, blooming with bright red and white
flowers. Two large stained-glass windows, decorated with elaborate sun
symbols, adorn the northwest and southeast corners of the room.
Several decoratively carved tables fill this room, while a polished
leather couch nearly ten cords in length sprawls along the northern wall. A
stately spiral staircase sits in the center of the room, winding upwards
toward the common rooms of the second floor. The sounds of laughter and
music can be heard from a doorway along the western wall, while the scents
of cooked meat waft in from the east. A small, straight stairway sits along
the northern wall, ending at a slightly raised loft and a large carven
baobab door sits in the southern wall, leading out onto the North Road
outside.
The Tuluk bulletin board is here propped up on a stand.
The short haired, heavy-set man stands here mug in-hand.
The tall, well-groomed man sits here on a plush couch.
The gaunt, black-haired man is here, leaning on the bar.
The plump, tawny-skinned woman sits on a stool, strumming on her mandolin.
The long-haired, middle-aged man stands behind the counter.
The burly, red-haired woman has arrived from the south.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the broad, harsh-looking woman with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the broad, harsh-looking woman:
"No trouble thus far?"
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The broad, harsh-looking woman sends you a telepathic message:
"I'm almost at the Sanctuary, Chosen Lord. I left the rug in the stables."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You dissolve the psychic link.
The thin gangly woman has arrived from the south.
The thin gangly woman walks up.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the svelte, bronzed man with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the svelte, bronzed man:
"Have you seen that fellow I hired as a partisan?"
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
You suffer from use of the Way.
The svelte, bronzed man sends you a telepathic message:
"No, Chosen Lord. Not since you left with him."
You send a telepathic message to the svelte, bronzed man:
"Or was going to hire. He ran off."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the svelte, bronzed man:
"Ah. Well, if you see him anywhere, do let me know. Odd how people up and disappear
like that."
You dissolve the psychic link.
The svelte, bronzed man sends you a telepathic message:
"He was an unusual sort."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The svelte, bronzed man sends you a telepathic message:
"Will do, Chosen Lord."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.-------
Thrend arrives at the Sanctuary after being informed about some disturbance. (think this was in a previous log but I didn't dig it up)
-------
The Sun King's Sanctuary [NESWUD]
A polished, white marble floor covers the ground of this expansive
room, gleaming under the light of a large glass...
Continue Reading...Interrogation of a 'Rinth Rat by HaiWolfe
Added on Feb 14, 2010A half-breed 'Rinthi, newly inducted into the Guild, suddenly finds himself in over his head when picked out of a southside crowd for interrogation by a templar.
It is before dawn on Nekrete, the 214th day of the Ascending Sun,
In the Year of Lirathu's Slumber, year 11 of the 21st Age.
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 trim, sorrel-haired man is sitting at a boxy wooden bar.
The one-eyed, white-haired half-elf is sitting at a boxy wooden bar.
The goateed, orange-eyed man is sitting at a wobbly baobab table.
The misshapen, lucent-eyed man is sitting at a wobbly baobab table.
The lithe, dark-haired man is sitting at a broad table of scarred agafari wood.
The small, dark-haired man sits at a table in the back, staring into his drink.
The bald, muscular woman slouches at a large table, drinking ale.
The huge, sun-bronzed man surveys the room casually from a table here.
The husky, weatherworn dwarf relaxes at a table here, clay mug in hand.
A tall, amber-eyed woman polishes glasses behind the boxy wooden bar.
A lean, spike-haired elf drums softly in the corner.
A lean, grey-eyed bard leans against the stage.
The trim, sorrel-haired man sits quietly at his stool, tugging on his beard with a
distracted expression.
Your new ldesc is:
The scrawny, half-breed teen with a badly swollen wrist leans here on a crutch.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar has arrived from the north.
The sallow, top-knotted half-giant has arrived from the north.
The one-eyed, white-haired half-elf stands to his feet quickly.
The scrawny, half-breed teen turns to see the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar with wide
eyes.
The one-eyed, white-haired half-elf bows deeply to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar,
his cloak dragging the ground.
The scrawny, half-breed teen bows before the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, barely
keeping his balance.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar passes through the northern entrance, flanked by the
imposing figure of the sallow, top-knotted half-giant.
The trim, sorrel-haired man rises to his feet, and bows gracefully to the oddly-bent,
yellow-skinned templar, his eyes lowered before retaking his barstool after a moment's
pause.
The one-eyed, white-haired half-elf sits down at a boxy wooden bar.
The misshapen, lucent-eyed man glances up at the sounding sound of scraping bar stools
before spotting the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar.
Ignoring the majority those bowing him, the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar's gazes falls
in harsh interrogation of a few faces.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar looks down at you.
The scrawny, half-breed teen shrinks back against a wall, keeping his gaze lowered.
Rising halfway out of his seat, the misshapen, lucent-eyed man bends respectfully at the
waist towards the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar before reseating himself.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar looks down at the lithe, dark-haired man.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned man sends you a telepathic message:
"Tell me of the Statue."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
Seeing the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar's attention upon him, the lithe, dark-haired man
quickly stands and bows before retaking his seat.
Passing through the parting crowds the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar's eyes lock onto
you, his yellow-spotted lips curling lightly into odd smile.
The scrawny, half-breed teen nearly falls to his knees, but catches himself and presses
himself against the wall.
The misshapen, lucent-eyed man looks up at you.
You think:
"Kade must've told him!"
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar curls his finger a few times in your direction,
beckoning for you to follow.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Come along...Ish."
Staring at the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar's feet, you say, in sirihish:
"I-I... "
You now follow the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar.
The trim, sorrel-haired man looks up at you.
The scrawny, half-breed teen reluctantly steps toward the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned
templar.
The lithe, dark-haired man sends you a telepathic message:
"Be respectful and don't piss off Rezaul."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the lithe, dark-haired man with the Way.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar glances once to the lithe, dark-haired man his eyes
lingering there for a few moments before making his way west.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar walks west.
You follow the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, and walk west.
An Antechamber of the Bard's Barrel [EU]
The sallow, top-knotted half-giant has arrived from the east.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar walks up.
You follow the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, and walk up.
A Wide, Spacious Room [ED]
The sallow, top-knotted half-giant has arrived from below.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the lithe, dark-haired man:
"He wants ta know about th' figurine!"
You dissolve the psychic link.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar walks east.
You follow the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, and walk east.
A Wide, Spacious Room [EW]
The sallow, top-knotted half-giant has arrived from the west.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar walks east.
You follow the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, and walk east.
A Wooden-Railed Balcony [W]
This wide balcony overlooks the street below, providing ample view of
the passersby, as well as a general vista of the sprawl of the Commoner's
Quarter. A railing of polished thuja wood surrounds it, carved with a
pattern of tumbling coins in bas-relief. Sounds of singing and raucous
revelry float up from somewhere below. An arched doorway to the west leads
back inside the building, covered with a curtain of bright red canvas. A
heavy stone bench is firmly affixed to the wall, while along the top of the
balcony, clay planters have been fastened, each one holding several small
plants spilling over with dusty green leaves and tiny, fragrant white
flowers.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar is standing here.
The sallow, top-knotted half-giant has arrived from the west.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar closes the curtain.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Well then....explain."
The scrawny, half-breed teen swallows hard.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar takes a few steps toward a heavy stone bench, and
slides onto it, watching you firmly.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar sits down on a heavy stone bench.
Shaking his head, his voice light, the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar asks you, in
southern-accented sirihish:
"You are aware of what I did to your friend Kade?"
The scrawny, half-breed teen shakes his head mutely.
With an idle shrug, the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar asks you, in southern-accented
sirihish:
"Seen him about of late?"
Licking dry lips, you say to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"I.. I nicked a figurine, a small one.. Kade helped. It was a test."
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"A test? Given by whom. "
Adding quickly, the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar asks you, in southern-accented
sirihish:
"Don't blame Kade for ratting on you...You'd have done the same if I had you fingers
and tongue removed, hmmm?"
The scrawny, half-breed teen twitches his head.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"So, a test...a figurine. Continue."
You say to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"A gang, westside... in the 'rinth. Called th' Third Eyes... they offer protection..."
You say, in sirihish:
"Fer a price."
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Ah? And how did you meet Kade?"
You think:
"(is terrified, but a small part of him is frantically hoping that this is another test
arranged between Vel and the templar)"
The lithe, dark-haired man sends you a telepathic message:
"Tell him what you will. The black figurine wouldn't be something for you to die over."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
You say to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"I-in th' Gaj, Lord Templar."
Out on the plaza, the lithe, dark-haired man has arrived from the south.
Out on the plaza, the lithe, dark-haired man walks north.
Shaking his head and gesturing to the sallow, top-knotted half-giant, the oddly-bent,
yellow-skinned templar asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Do you know how I found out about you?"
You say to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"Kade..."
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Yes of course. For every lie, Kade told me...Mgran pulled off one of his pinkies.
Perhaps you require the same coaxing?"
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"You work for Vel."
You exclaim to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"N-no, I ain't lyin'! I know what 'appens ta rats git caught an' don't tell th' truth!"
Glancing to the sallow, top-knotted half-giant, the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar asks
you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"How were you injured?"
You say to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"I was jumped inna alley, eastside."
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"By whom?"
You think:
"I told Kade! I told Kade Vel's name!"
Shaking his head jerkily, you say to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"I dun' know... some hooded skinnies.."
You think:
"Ish ya dumbshit yer dead, dead!"
Shaking his head lightly, the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to you, in southern-
accented sirihish:
"You know something you're not telling me half-breed."
Without much interest, the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to the sallow, top-
knotted half-giant, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Tear off his arms or something..."
The scrawny, half-breed teen stands rooted to the spot, stone-still in fear.
The sallow, top-knotted half-giant glances to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar with
surprise for a moment and then with a shrug lumbers toward you.
The scrawny, half-breed teen works his lips silently as he stares at the floor.
The sallow, top-knotted half-giant reaches out at you with a large meaty hand.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar gives the sallow, top-knotted half-giant an order.
The sallow, top-knotted half-giant subdues you, despite your attempts to struggle away.
Kicking and flailing, you exclaim, in sirihish:
"Eyaaargh!"
Frantically, you exclaim to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"I'll tell ya.. I! Whaddya wanna know!"
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Who was the figurine stolen from and why."
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Who ordered it."
The red moon, Jihae, rises over the streets of Allanak.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar sighs shaking his head with annoyance.
You exclaim to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"D-dice! Fella named Dice!"
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Dice? Tell me about Dice."
With a sigh, the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to the sallow, top-knotted half-
giant, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Should he utter a word about not knowing something, just pull it off and toss it over
the ledge."
The sallow, top-knotted half-giant nods once affirmatively to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned
templar, your arm head tightly in his closed fist.
The words spilling from his mouth, you say to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in
sirihish:
"He's got th' tattoos, he an' Siltwind, they th' leaders of th' gang."
You think:
"I shoulda used th' mul! Too late too late!"
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Gang?"
You say to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"They, they.. call'emselves th' Third Eyes cause they put a tattoo of a eye on their
forehead. Yeh, gang. Every'un in the 'rinth's talkin' bout'em, they're real strong."
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Oh? And the black fist?"
You say to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"Tha's another gang, I thought Kade knew some'un who was innit."
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Vel. Where does he fit. I know you're lying about this Dice fellow..."
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to the sallow, top-knotted half-giant, in
southern-accented sirihish:
"Twist...."
You exclaim to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"I can 'xplain!"
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"I know. Thats why we're here."
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar stands forcefully, his peaceful, placid demeanor
bursting into a fiery anger.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar pushes off of a heavy stone bench and rises to his
feet.
In a smooth motion, the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar slides a topaz-pommeled ivory
dagger out of a leather and chitin strap-sheath.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar brandishes a topaz-pommeled ivory dagger.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar marches toward where the sallow, top-knotted half-
giant holds you.
You exclaim to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"I ain't lyin'! I seen Vel aroun' in the 'rinth a few times, he always kickin' me
round. 'alf-breed do this, clean that up, ya worthless!"
The scrawny, half-breed teen grows panicked as he squirms in the sallow, top-knotted half-
giant's grip.
His voice a harsh rasp, his eyes fills with hatred, placing the tip of his topaz-pommeled
ivory dagger under your left eye, the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar whispers to you in
sirihish:
"Listen to me you filthy lying half-breed....Do you think I want to be in your presence
any longer? Tell me *everything*."
You exclaim to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"So I needed Kade ta help me do th' job... th' nickin'! An' Kade was askin' all these
questions 'fore he would do it! But Dice tol' me ta not spill his name, so I tol' Kade Vel's
name instead!"
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar straightens for a moment as if shocked, he seems to
lose his concentration and takes a step away from the sallow, top-knotted half-giant.
A ragged sob tears itself from the scrawny, half-breed teen's throat as he slumps forward.
Hunched for a moment, the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar's eyes widen as he glances
downward at his hands in awe.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar straightens, still not looking at you or the sallow,
top-knotted half-giant, he turns his eyes raging with some mad pleasure.
As he approaches you again, his eyes awash with determination and he snatches your face, the
oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to you in southern-accented sirihish:
"I am His Will."
The scrawny, half-breed boy twitches involuntarily.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar asks you in southern-accented sirihish:
"What does Dice look like?"
Screwing his eyes shut, you say to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar in sirihish:
"He's a-a... a big fella, tall, strong."
Voice calm and even as the tip of his topaz-pommeled ivory dagger is placed again under
your eye, the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to you in southern-accented sirihish:
"More..."
You say to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar in sirihish:
"Got dice tattooed on'is hands, an' the eye on'is forehead."
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to you in southern-accented sirihish:
"What is it worth to you? For me to not tell Vel, or your arrangement with Dice?"
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to you in southern-accented sirihish:
"What have you to trade besides this eye?"
You exclaim to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"I-I.. they'll kill me!"
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Of course they will."
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"I'm the only one who can keep you alive now....treat me well...."
You say to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"I got less'an fifty sid.. jus' what I'm wearin'."
Presses the top of his topaz-pommeled ivory dagger just a touch into the flesh under your
eye, the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Do you think I require funding?"
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"What can you offer me aside from this eye?"
Sweat rolling down his face, you exclaim to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in
sirihish:
"Whaddya want!"
A final glimmer of light marks the white moon Lirathu's slow descent.
Simply, the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Information. "
You exclaim to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"I ken get ya information!"
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar twists the tip of his topaz-pommeled ivory dagger
lightly digging a small nich in your skin.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"No....now."
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar lifts his chin to the sallow, top-knotted half-giant.
The sallow, top-knotted half-giant begins pulling forcefully at your arm.
Stifling a scream, you exclaim to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"Eyaa--- ask me a question!"
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Armless, eyeless....a pitiful way to live."
Laughing, the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Was that an order? Simply talk...."
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Just talk, talk, talk."
His face soaked with sweat and tears, you say to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in
sirihish:
"Dice an' Siltwind, they been 'round the 'rinth a few months now, they started off
small..."
Looking bored the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar removes his topaz-pommeled ivory dagger
slipping it back into his burned leather and chitin strap-sheath.
You say to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"But they gitted a reputation th' way they din't take no shat from skinnies."
You say to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"Whole eastside hates'em but they don't care 'cause they got th' west on their side."
Lifting his chin, the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to the sallow, top-knotted
half-giant, in southern-accented sirihish:
"This is pointless....Let him go. I'm bored of Rinth politics,"
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar gives the sallow, top-knotted half-giant an order.
The sallow, top-knotted half-giant releases you, and you immediately move away.
The scrawny, half-breed teen falls to the ground in a heap.
With a sigh gesturing to you idly, the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says to you, in
southern-accented sirihish:
"Your arm and eye are now owned by me. You've three months to bring me two pieces of
information that will purchase them back. I'll see you soon."
The scrawny, half-breed teen quickly scrambles up using your worn wooden crutch and nearly
falls again as he bows deeply to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, then shuffles
toward the curtain.
You say to the oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"Yes Lord Templar, I do everythin' ya say, thank ya Lord Templar."
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar wets his yellow spotted lips turning to look out over
the balcony.
The oddly-bent, yellow-skinned templar says, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Off with you..."
The scrawny, half-breed teen backs through the curtain, bent at the waist.It is before dawn on Nekrete, the 214th day of the Ascending Sun,
In the Year of Lirathu's Slumber, year 11 of the 21st Age.
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...
Continue Reading...Fecked a Fruit by Taven
Added on Dec 29, 2009This is the craziest party (with the possible exception of a certain Fale party) any of my PCs has ever attended. It's so crazy, you have to consent to read it. Just be glad you're not the fruit.
It’s a long log, to get you into the mood of the scene. I apologize for the crappy formatting, but it’s the crazy Arm Original Submissions doing it, not me.
-------
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man has arrived from the north.
At your table, the burn-scarred, curly-haired man says in sirihish, glancing around:
"Discard if ya've still got a card, mates, an' here we go."
Calling over, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette says to the gaunt, grungy-bearded man, in sirihish:
"Cactus, grab a drink, but no getting drunk."
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man deals himself a Kruth card.
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man deals a Kruth card to the slender, obsidian-eyed man.
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man deals a Kruth card to the willowy, grey-streaked man.
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man deals a Kruth card to the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman.
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man deals a Kruth card to the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette.
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man deals a Kruth card to the rugged, dusk-toned man.
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man deals a Kruth card: the Sun of Life to you.
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man deals a Kruth card to the scarred, ebony-haired woman.
Rolling his eyes, the willowy, grey-streaked man discards his Kruth card: the Water of Death.
At your table, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette says in sirihish, eyeing her card solemnly:
"Damn."
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man deals a Kruth card to the willowy, grey-streaked man.
At your table, the scarred, ebony-haired woman says in sirihish, tossing her Kruth card: the Wind of Deceit to the table:
"New one, Farran."
The rugged, dusk-toned man grins a large grin, glancing down to his card.
The slender, hack-haired man smiles at your card.
At your table, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette says in sirihish, pointing at the willowy, grey-streaked man:
"Makarim!"
The scarred, ebony-haired woman discards her Kruth card: the Wind of Deceit.
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man deals a Kruth card to the scarred, ebony-haired woman.
At your table, the furrowed, stubbled man says in sirihish, to the burn-scarred, curly-haired man:
"Fergot me."
Grunting, the burn-scarred, curly-haired man discards his Kruth card: the Water of Kings.
At your table, the burn-scarred, curly-haired man says in sirihish, glancing to the furrowed, stubbled man:
"Yeah. Who th' fuck are ya, anyway/"
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man salutes the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette and nods obediently as he weaves his way over to a broad table of scarred agafari wood.
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man deals himself a Kruth card.
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man gets his small stone shotglass from a broad table of scarred agafari wood.
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man gets his small stone shotglass from a broad table of scarred agafari wood.
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man deals a Kruth card to the furrowed, stubbled man.
At your table, the furrowed, stubbled man says in sirihish, with a shrug:
"Jus' some fek. Names Yaroch."
The scarred, ebony-haired woman frowns at her card.
At your table, the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman says in sirihish:
"I'll stay."
Tilting his head back, the gaunt, grungy-bearded man downs his small stone shotglass.
At your table, the burn-scarred, curly-haired man says in sirihish, shrugging:
"Aye, very well. Anyone else?"
At your table, the furrowed, stubbled man says in sirihish:
"Another."
At your table, the burn-scarred, curly-haired man says in sirihish, dipping a nod:
"Gotta discard it first mate."
The furrowed, stubbled man discards his Kruth card: the Wind of Death.
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man deals a Kruth card to the furrowed, stubbled man.
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man smacks his lips a few times and eyes his small stone shotglass.
At your table, the burn-scarred, curly-haired man says in sirihish, glancing around:
"Going... goin'... gone. Flip 'em."
The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman flips over her Kruth card: the Sun of Fate.
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette absently turns over her Kruth card: the Stone of Death.
The furrowed, stubbled man turns over his Kruth card: the Stone of Truth.
Flipping it over, the scarred, ebony-haired woman discards her Kruth card: the Sun of Deceit.
Grunting, the burn-scarred, curly-haired man discards his Kruth card: the Wind of Truth.
The willowy, grey-streaked man discards his Kruth card: the Sun of Truth.
The slender, obsidian-eyed man discards his Kruth card: the Stone of Fate.
The furrowed, stubbled man discards his Kruth card: the Stone of Truth.
At your table, the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman says in sirihish:
"Safely in tha middle... "
Tossing it down with a large grin, the rugged, dusk-toned man discards his Kruth card: the Stone of Life.
Swallowing hard, the gaunt, grungy-bearded man lifts the second glass and gulps it down unflinchingly.
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man drinks brandy from his small stone shotglass.
At your table, the burn-scarred, curly-haired man says in sirihish, smirking:
"So far, it's Horus winnin' and Laila loosin'."
At your table, the burn-scarred, curly-haired man says in sirihish, shaking his head:
"Jenneth's winnin' that is."
Making a wry face as he eases it back onto the table, the gaunt, grungy-bearded man discards his small stone shotglass.
At your table, the rugged, dusk-toned man says in sirihish, to you, with a frown:
"Well, fuck you."
At your table, you say in sirihish, to the rugged, dusk-toned man with a slight smirk:
"Love to. You pick the place, or should I?"
At your table, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette says in sirihish:
"Turnabout's fair play, Jenneth, what's it to be?"
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man shuffles a deck of Kruth cards.
Stepping over, the gaunt, grungy-bearded man tosses his dark, hooded cloak into a crate half-packed with debris and trash.
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man walks south.
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"Anybody got a good idea?"
At your table, the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman says in sirihish:
"Table dance!"
At your table, the willowy, grey-streaked man says in sirihish:
"Regardin' Laila? I got -dozens- of good ideas fer Laila."
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man shuffles a deck of Kruth cards.
The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman grins at the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette.
At your table, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette says in sirihish:
"I'm hard to embarrass too, unless Cera's around."
At your table, the rugged, dusk-toned man says in sirihish, to the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman:
"Tha's... yer idea -every- time."
At your table, the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman says in sirihish, to the rugged, dusk-toned man:
"An yer complainin why?"
At your table, you say in sirihish, to the willowy, grey-streaked man with a chuckle:
"Well, spit 'em out. N' no, we don't want to watch more foreplay n' shet with you two."
At your table, the rugged, dusk-toned man says in sirihish, to you:
"Make 'er beat th'piss out've Farran! I want t'watch that sibling rivalry shit."
At your table, the burn-scarred, curly-haired man says in sirihish, pursing his lips:
"I want a story."
At your table, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette says in sirihish, pointing her clay bottle at the willowy, grey-streaked man:
"And I doubt the Sergeant's ideas are legal in public."
At your table, the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman says in sirihish:
"They are, and Fale pays double if they get ta watch."
The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman grins at the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette.
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette laughs at the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman.
At your table, the furrowed, stubbled man says in sirihish:
"Who's gonna arrest ya?"
The scarred, ebony-haired woman chuckles, shaking her head.
The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman nods to the furrowed, stubbled man.
At your table, the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman says in sirihish:
"Excellent point"
At your table, the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman says in sirihish:
"I won't."
At your table, the willowy, grey-streaked man says in sirihish:
"Like -you- fuckers get to see what I'm gonna do t'Laila later."
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette leans over the edge of the table, still laughing.
The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman fans herself, glancing sidelong at the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette.
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man wrinkles up his nose.
At your table, the rugged, dusk-toned man says in sirihish, jamming a thumb into his chest:
"My idea is th'best."
At your table, the burn-scarred, curly-haired man says in sirihish, sagely:
"I don't -want- to."
At your table, the rugged, dusk-toned man says in sirihish:
"Siblin' brawl."
At your table, the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman says in sirihish, to the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette:
"I know what yer birthday present is.. Yer gonna be walkin' bowlegged fer weeks."
At your table, the rugged, dusk-toned man says in sirihish, to the burn-scarred, curly-haired man:
"Then don't fight back. Jus' let 'er beat th'fuck out've ya'."
With a wink, the slender, obsidian-eyed man says to the willowy, grey-streaked man, in sirihish:
"You never know who might be watching."
At your table, you say in sirihish, chuckling:
"I agree with Farran. I -don't- want to see that."
At your table, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette says in sirihish, waggling her eyebrows at the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman:
"Let's hope."
At your table, the burn-scarred, curly-haired man says in sirihish, rolling his eyes at the rugged, dusk-toned man:
"Wasn't talkin' about that."
The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman grins at the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette.
At your table, the burn-scarred, curly-haired man says in sirihish, peering at you:
"Pick summat."
Pursing his lips, you look at the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette.
The confident carriage of an athletic physique, healthy glow of bronze
skin, and clear gaze of this young woman combine to radiate an aura of
vitality and energy. Tall for a human, her body bears the sleek, taut
musculature of one trained in physical arts, clearly seen in strong
shoulders, sculpted arms, and long, shapely legs. Modest but womanly curves
are accentuated by a slim waist, and she has large, capable hands with
slender fingers. A single lock of brunette hair falling to the left side of
her face has been ornamented with a lustrous strand of small, smoothly
rounded jade beads ranging in hue from dusky to brilliant green; at the end
of this length dangles two slightly larger beads painstakingly carved in the
shapes of a lushly blooming rose and a wickedly barbed thorn. Haphazardly
woven into the remainder of the waving mane that frames her round face is a
fringe of dozens more jade beads which clack gently with movement and gleam
in ambient light. The soft depth of warm brown eyes and sensuous sweep of
wide lips are countered by emphatically dark eyebrows; a straight, firm
nose; and a resolute set to her squared chin. Etched at the corners of
mouth and eyes, faint lines are beginning to give testimony to laughter and
care.
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette is in excellent condition.
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette is using:
<worn in hair> a jade hairclasp
<face> branching fiery temple veins
<worn in left ear> an earring of glittering black glass
<worn in right ear> a small jade earring
<worn around neck> a jet-colored, chitin gorget
<worn about throat> a jade and ebony cross
<slung across back> an obsidian-headed, jade-emblazoned mace
<worn across back> a new jade-emblazoned, hoplite shield
<right shoulder> a black-inked tattoo of a sprawling city
<left shoulder> a wicked jade warrior tattoo
<worn on arms> a pair of black, cloth armbands
<worn around wrist> a tortoiseshell bracer
<worn around wrist> a dragon-carved spiked bracer
<worn on hands> a pair of fine, black suede gloves
<worn on forearms> a dragon-emblazoned armsheath
<worn around body> a black, hooded militia dustcloak
<worn on legs> a jade-trimmed reinforced leather skirt
<right ankle> a small, jade songbird tattoo
<worn on left ankle> an obsidian anklet set with jade studs
<worn on feet> a pair of polished, black leather boots
She is carrying:
nothing obvious
At your table, the rugged, dusk-toned man says in sirihish, nodding:
"Oh. A'right, then."
At your table, the rugged, dusk-toned man says in sirihish, to you:
"My idea's th'best, y'know."
At your table, the willowy, grey-streaked man says in sirihish:
"Let's have somethin' Jenneth."
The dapper, pony-tailed woman has arrived from the south.
The sinewy, emerald-eyed man has arrived from the south.
At your table, the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman says in sirihish:
"Jes don' make me think again.. that hurt"
The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman grins.
At your table, you say in sirihish, waving a hand to the burn-scarred, curly-haired man:
"'S goin' to be a table dance. I'd make it a table -strip- dance, but the feckin' Gith won't go for that, eh?"
Tipping it back, the burn-scarred, curly-haired man drinks brandy from his small stone shotglass.
The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman grins.
At your table, the burn-scarred, curly-haired man says in sirihish, smirking:
"I wouldn't go for a strip dance. Since it's my sister an' all."
You get your small portion of a small roasted erdlu breast from your pouched belt.
It is very light.
At your table, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette says in sirihish, looking down at herself:
"I could take off my cloak...weapons...shield...but yeah."
At your table, the willowy, grey-streaked man says in sirihish, to you:
"Think you was mistaken. Think you meant to say that there's no way you'd ask her to strip."
Pacing through the crowd behind the sinewy, emerald-eyed man, the dapper, pony-tailed woman claims the chair him draws back for her at a round, blue-painted table and settles down, crossing her legs)
The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman thumps a booted foot against the floor to set a steady beat for the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette.
The dapper, pony-tailed woman sits at a round, blue-painted table.
At your table, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette says in sirihish, nodding to you:
"Highly recommend that's what you meant to say."
At your table, the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman says in sirihish:
"No threatenin when we're playin!"
The rugged, dusk-toned man snickers, shaking his head.
Tilting his head back, the sinewy, weather-worn man drinks ale from his miniature barrel.
At your table, the burn-scarred, curly-haired man says in sirihish, chuckling:
"Jenneth's just fond of strip dance in general for some reason. I doubt it has anythin' to do with Laila doin' it."
At your table, the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman says in sirihish:
"Jen made NADIM strip.. tha man's got no limits."
Scraping her chair back, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette stands up from a broad table of scarred agafari wood.
Pushing back in his chair, the sinewy, weather-worn man stands up from a wobbly baobab table.
At your table, you say in sirihish, chuckling:
"Nadim -did- get to keep his pants on."
As she straightens, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette says to the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman, in sirihish:
"Tell Cactus he can have my chair, I'll sit on the Sergeant's lap. When I'm done."
The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman nods to the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette.
At your table, the furrowed, stubbled man says in sirihish, nodding to you:
"Ya got the right idea, Jenneth."
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette steps up on her chair, placing a booted foot firmly, and then onto a broad table of scarred agafari wood.
The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman keeps thumping out a rhythm, pounding a heel against the floor.
Leaving it behind on a wobbly baobab table, the sinewy, weather-worn man discards his miniature barrel.
With a glance from the northern archway, the gaunt, ivory-toned lad looks down at the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman.
With a flick of a gloved hand, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette sweeps her black, hooded militia dustcloak over her shoulders and catches a fistful of it.
The scarred, ebony-haired woman claps her hands, matching the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman's heel thumps.
The willowy, grey-streaked man leans back in his chair and folds his arms over his chest, looking up at the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette with a grin.
With a squint as a head breaks the usual swarm of patrons, the dapper, pony-tailed woman looks towards the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette with a curious eye expression.
The sinewy, weather-worn man steps forward through the tavern, slowly making his way to a broad table of scarred agafari wood.
Matching the rhythm, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette smiles down at the willowy, grey-streaked man as she clicks bootheels on a broad table of scarred agafari wood, keeping her gaze on him as she turns in a slow circle.
The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman drinks brandy from her small stone shotglass.
Tossing it back onto the table after slamming it down, the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman discards her small stone shotglass.
The sinewy, weather-worn man places a hand on the back of the rugged, dusk-toned man's chair and crouches down to his level.
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man pounds the table with the side of his fist, in rythym with the other encouragements.
Twisting her hand, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette sweeps her black, hooded militia dustcloak out to brush toward the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman's face as she turns, heels pounding out the rhythm on the table.
At your table, the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman says in sirihish, adding loud clapping to the steady thump of her heel:
"OOOH! Tha's our Laila, if her blade won' kill ya, her sexiness .. or jealous mate.. will."
Still watching the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette, the willowy, grey-streaked man gets his small stone shotglass from a broad table of scarred agafari wood.
At your table, the willowy, grey-streaked man says in sirihish:
"Probably th' last one."
The willowy, grey-streaked man drinks brandy from his small stone shotglass.
The furrowed, stubbled man pats his knee in time, his head bobbing up and down.
At your table, the scarred, ebony-haired woman says in sirihish, calling out:
"Work it, Laila!"
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette laughs and slides a foot forward, tapping her heel and then continuing her turn with a sinuous swing of her hips.
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man covers his eyes.
The slender, hack-haired man chuckles at the burn-scarred, curly-haired man.
Arching her arms over her head and clapping along with the rhythm, gloved palms thudding quietly, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette asks the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman, in sirihish:
"Am I done yet?"
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man has arrived from the north.
The scarred, ebony-haired woman giggles and reaches out to pat the burn-scarred, curly-haired man shoulder.
At your table, the willowy, grey-streaked man says in sirihish, to the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette:
"I reckon you are. Git down here."
At your table, the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman says in sirihish, with a grin up at the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette:
"Jen made tha terms.. gotta ask him!"
At your table, the burn-scarred, curly-haired man says in sirihish, from behind his hands:
"Please be done!"
Weaving through the crowds, the gaunt, grungy-bearded man moves over to a broad table of scarred agafari wood.
The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman laughs at the burn-scarred, curly-haired man.
Casting a glance to the archway, the dapper, pony-tailed woman looks up at the gaunt, grungy-bearded man.
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man sits at a broad table of scarred agafari wood.
The slender, obsidian-eyed man's head wavers slightly, his eyes squeezing shut in pain.
The furrowed, stubbled man chuckles.
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette stomps her feet a last time, then hops down from a broad table of scarred agafari wood next to the willowy, grey-streaked man.
At your table, you say in sirihish, chuckling:
"Alright, you're done, if only for Farran's sake."
Sliding it back onto a round, blue-painted table, the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman discards her clay bottle.
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man glances thoughtfully down at the collection of shotglasses then shakes his head with a faint grunt.
At your table, the burn-scarred, curly-haired man says in sirihish, with a happy sigh:
"Thanks Jen. Alright, next round? All cards been discarded?"
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette settles sideways on the willowy, grey-streaked man's lap and hooks an arm around his shoulders.
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man shuffles a deck of Kruth cards.
At your table, the burn-scarred, curly-haired man says in sirihish, nodding firmly:
"Next round. Hup!"
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man deals himself a Kruth card.
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man deals a Kruth card to the slender, obsidian-eyed man.
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man deals a Kruth card to the willowy, grey-streaked man.
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man deals a Kruth card to the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman.
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man deals a Kruth card to the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette.
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man deals a Kruth card to the rugged, dusk-toned man.
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man deals a Kruth card: the Wind of Truth to you.
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man deals a Kruth card to the scarred, ebony-haired woman.
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man deals a Kruth card to the furrowed, stubbled man.
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man deals a Kruth card to the gaunt, grungy-bearded man.
The willowy, grey-streaked man wraps a long arm around the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette's waist, snagging a card with his free hand.
At your table, the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman says in sirihish:
"I'll stay"
At your table, the burn-scarred, curly-haired man says in sirihish, rpusing his lips:
"Keepin'."
At your table, the rugged, dusk-toned man says in sirihish:
"Keepin'."
Wordlessly, the slender, obsidian-eyed man rises to his feet, moving hurriedly into the plaza.
At your table, the rugged, dusk-toned man says in sirihish:
"Actually.."
The willowy, grey-streaked man discards his Kruth card: the Stone of Deceit.
Tossing it away, the rugged, dusk-toned man discards his Kruth card: the Stone of Fate.
At your table, the rugged, dusk-toned man says in sirihish:
"What th'hell? Another."
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man deals a Kruth card to the willowy, grey-streaked man.
At your table, the scarred, ebony-haired woman says in sirihish:
"New one, please"
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man deals a Kruth card to the rugged, dusk-toned man.
The scarred, ebony-haired woman discards her Kruth card: the Water of Truth.
At your table, the gaunt, grungy-bearded man says in sirihish, glancing down at his card:
"I dunno how to play."
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man deals a Kruth card to the scarred, ebony-haired woman.
At your table, the willowy, grey-streaked man says in sirihish:
"Not bad. Not bad."
At your table, the furrowed, stubbled man says in sirihish:
"I'll stay. Don't have a clue which is fekin' which, but it looks alright."
The scarred, ebony-haired woman frowns intently at her card.
At your table, the rugged, dusk-toned man says in sirihish, snickering:
"MUCH better."
At your table, the burn-scarred, curly-haired man says in sirihish, glancing to the gaunt, grungy-bearded man:
"Ranks are Life, Truth, Fate, Kings, Deceit, and Death. Suits are Wind, Sun, Stone, and Water. Ranks before suits."
At your table, the burn-scarred, curly-haired man says in sirihish, raising his finger:
"You can discard once."
At your table, you say in sirihish, with an appreicatve nod to the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette:
"You do a nice dance. You dance often? Not, of course, that I'm suggestin' -anythin'-, Sarge."
[Background: Jenneth loves to dance, it's one of his passions, so he's actually not suggesting anything by it]
The rugged, dusk-toned man discards his Kruth card: the Wind of Death.
At your table, the rugged, dusk-toned man says in sirihish:
"I think I lose."
At your table, the gaunt, grungy-bearded man says in sirihish, glancing at the burn-scarred, curly-haired man:
"They any 'sid involved?"
Flipping it onto the table, the willowy, grey-streaked man discards his Kruth card: the Sun of Truth.
At your table, the willowy, grey-streaked man says in sirihish:
"That's mine."
At your table, the burn-scarred, curly-haired man says in sirihish, shaking his head:
"Nah, just dares. Flip!"
Tossing it to the table, the scarred, ebony-haired woman discards her Kruth card: the Wind of Deceit.
Pointing at the burn-scarred, curly-haired man, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette says to you, in sirihish:
"We used to see the Arabeti dance at Luir's. I learned a bit then."
Flipping it, the burn-scarred, curly-haired man discards his Kruth card: the Water of Kings.
The furrowed, stubbled man turns over his Kruth card: the Sun of Life.
Flipping it, you discard your Kruth card: the Wind of Truth.
The furrowed, stubbled man discards his Kruth card: the Sun of Life.
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man discards his Kruth card: the Water of Death.
Turning it over, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette discards her Kruth card: the Water of Fate.
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man slides the card back to the burn-scarred, curly-haired man and makes a beckoning motion.
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette laughs and points to the gaunt, grungy-bearded man, shaking her head.
At your table, the rugged, dusk-toned man says in sirihish, to the gaunt, grungy-bearded man:
"Fuck you. I want t'win, or lose, or SOMETHIN'."
At your table, the burn-scarred, curly-haired man says in sirihish, chuckling:
"Yaroch's on top, Cactus lost."
At your table, the gaunt, grungy-bearded man says in sirihish:
"We can't trade in a card?"
At your table, the scarred, ebony-haired woman says in sirihish, laughing:
"I'm with Horus. I want -something- to happen."
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man looks at the rugged, dusk-toned man.
At your table, the burn-scarred, curly-haired man says in sirihish, wryly:
"Ya missed th' deadline, mate."
Uncrossing her legs to rise, the dapper, pony-tailed woman stands up from a round, blue-painted table.
At your table, the furrowed, stubbled man says in sirihish:
"Well I'll be. Who's cactus?"
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man points to the gaunt, grungy-bearded man.
Lightly rubbing at her temple and giving a grunt, the dapper, pony-tailed woman moves towards the northern plaza, the sinewy, emerald-eyed man in tow.
The dapper, pony-tailed woman walks north.
The sinewy, emerald-eyed man walks north.
At your table, the gaunt, grungy-bearded man says in sirihish, showing his nasty teeth with a half grin:
"I can think of a few somethins for you t'do, sir Kurac."
The caramel, alabaster-haired woman walks north.
At your table, the rugged, dusk-toned man says in sirihish, waggling his brows at the scarred, ebony-haired woman:
"I make shit happen."
At your table, the burn-scarred, curly-haired man says in sirihish, chuckling:
"You should make 'im kiss Horus. Since Horus almost lost. An' he sucks at kissin'."
At your table, the burn-scarred, curly-haired man says in sirihish, smirking:
"With tongue, I might add."
At your table, the rugged, dusk-toned man says in sirihish, to the burn-scarred, curly-haired man:
"I don't suck at kissin'. I suck at kissin' when I'm piss drunk, an' kissin' YOU."
At your table, the burn-scarred, curly-haired man says in sirihish, rolling his eyes:
"As far as I know, ya fuckin' suck at kissin' worse than anyone I've ever kissed in m' life, and ya haven't proven otherwise yet."
The furrowed, stubbled man gets his fleshy blue fruit from his dusty bone-studded backpack.
At your table, the furrowed, stubbled man says in sirihish:
"I want Cactus here ta stand up, and in front'a the bar seduce this here fruit like it was the hottest fekin' woman he's ever seen."
The slender, hack-haired man bursts into laughter.
The furrowed, stubbled man tosses his fleshy blue fruit to the gaunt, grungy-bearded man.
The rugged, dusk-toned man chortles, shaking his head.
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man looks at the furrowed, stubbled man.
The willowy, grey-streaked man laughs loudly, putting a hand to his stomach.
At your table, the scarred, ebony-haired woman says in sirihish, chuckling:
"This should be interesting."
At your table, the willowy, grey-streaked man says in sirihish:
"Fuckin' -right-, lad."
At your table, the rugged, dusk-toned man says in sirihish:
"It'll pro'lly be th'prettiest thing he's ever seduced."
At your table, the gaunt, grungy-bearded man says in sirihish, eyeing the furrowed, stubbled man dubiously:
"The most extent of seducin' I ever done, fella, is passin' twenty sid to a whore."
At your table, the furrowed, stubbled man says in sirihish:
"Then this should be good."
At your table, the rugged, dusk-toned man says in sirihish, to the gaunt, grungy-bearded man, flatly:
"Jus' stick yer dick in it, then."
The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman chuckles.
The scarred, ebony-haired woman snickers.
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man shuffles a deck of Kruth cards.
At your table, the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman says in sirihish:
"Fek it an cheat it of half tha sid afterwards then."
The furrowed, stubbled man leans back, watching the gaunt, grungy-bearded man.
Calling over, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette exclaims to the reedy, sorrel-skinned woman, in sirihish:
"Cera! It's my birthday, have a drink, damnit!"
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette waves to some glasses on a broad table of scarred agafari wood.
At your table, the gaunt, grungy-bearded man says in sirihish, looking at the rugged, dusk-toned man, eyes slivering:
"I ain't about to fuck no fuckin' fruit in front've the whole fuckin tavern, fella. Have another drink."
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man stands up from a broad table of scarred agafari wood.
Smiling, the reedy, sorrel-skinned woman asks the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Wull no shit, yeh an adult yet ya pretta thin'?"
The reedy, sorrel-skinned woman pushes away from a boxy wooden bar.
As he holds up his fleshy blue fruit, clearing his voice, the gaunt, grungy-bearded man says, in sirihish:
"Hey, scumbag."
Waggling her eyebrows, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette says to the reedy, sorrel-skinned woman, in sirihish:
"I'm all woman, Cera."
At your table, the rugged, dusk-toned man says in sirihish, shrugging:
"I've done worse."
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man bursts out laughing.
With a dramatic sigh as she moves to the table, the reedy, sorrel-skinned woman says to the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Don' ah wish ah knew."
Addressing his fleshy blue fruit with a dour, coarse voice, the gaunt, grungy-bearded man says, in sirihish:
"Fifty sid? You gotta be smokin' some've that bad shit, y'nasty fuckin wench. Twenty 'sid or I'm takin' this cock further on down the road."
The scarred, ebony-haired woman watches the gaunt, grungy-bearded man, chuckling.
At your table, the furrowed, stubbled man says in sirihish:
"Cactus get all the ladies with that line I bet."
The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman chuckles.
The willowy, grey-streaked man laughs.
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette bursts into a laugh at the gaunt, grungy-bearded man.
At your table, the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman says in sirihish:
"yeah.. he's a real ladies man"
The slender, hack-haired man chuckles.
Smiling and tipping her head, the reedy, sorrel-skinned woman says to the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"ah'll be back. Got an erran' ta run."
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man pounds his fist on a broad table of scarred agafari wood, laughing uproariously.
The rugged, dusk-toned man suddenly bursts into a laugh, watching the gaunt, grungy-bearded man.
Nodding, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette says to the reedy, sorrel-skinned woman, in sirihish:
"'s'fine."
Lobbing his fleshy blue fruit over to the furrowed, stubbled man, the gaunt, grungy-bearded man grins nastily and retakes his seat.
Tossing it at the head of a passing half-elf and missing, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette discards her clay bottle.
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man gives his fleshy blue fruit to the furrowed, stubbled man.
At your table, the rugged, dusk-toned man says in sirihish, to the gaunt, grungy-bearded man:
"Shoulda' fucked it."
At your table, the furrowed, stubbled man says in sirihish:
"No he shouldn'a...I wanna still eat this."
The willowy, grey-streaked man says to the gaunt, grungy-bearded man, in sirihish:
"Real good, Cactus. Real good."
At your table, the scarred, ebony-haired woman says in sirihish, grinning at the rugged, dusk-toned man:
"At least the fruit would've enjoyed -that-, I think."
At your table, the gaunt, grungy-bearded man says in sirihish, eyeing the rugged, dusk-toned man:
"Three small and I'll even fuck it in the ass."
At your table, the rugged, dusk-toned man says in sirihish, to the furrowed, stubbled man:
"You woulda' ate it still."
At your table, the rugged, dusk-toned man says in sirihish, to the gaunt, grungy-bearded man:
"Two small an' it's a deal."
The rugged, dusk-toned man opens a dusty expansive, crimson-fist emblazoned backpack.
At your table, the gaunt, grungy-bearded man says in sirihish:
"Two and a half."
The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman chuckles.
The scarred, ebony-haired woman shakes her head.
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man eyes the rugged, dusk-toned man shrewdly.
At your table, the rugged, dusk-toned man says in sirihish, nodding:
"A'right."
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man stands up from a broad table of scarred agafari wood.
The rugged, dusk-toned man pulls a bag from his pack, grinning.
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man says to the furrowed, stubbled man, in sirihish:
"Hey, I need that fruit."
[Another game round has started, and he strives to get people's attention...]
At your table, the rugged, dusk-toned man says in sirihish, shaking his head:
"WAIT! Cactus is gonna fuck th'fruit."
Dubiously, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette asks the gaunt, grungy-bearded man, in sirihish:
"How are you going to fuck a fruit in the ass?"
At your table, the rugged, dusk-toned man says in sirihish:
"For two an' a half small."
The scarred, ebony-haired woman blushes, then blinks.
The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman nods to the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette.
Extending his mangled hand, the gaunt, grungy-bearded man says to the rugged, dusk-toned man, in sirihish:
"My mammy didn't raise no fool; I need that sid up front."
At your table, the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman says in sirihish:
"I have ta say.. was thinkin' tha same thing."
The rugged, dusk-toned man asks the gaunt, grungy-bearded man, in sirihish:
"How're y'gonna do it?"
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man says to the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette, in sirihish:
"Like a savage fuckin beast, sir."
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man asks the rugged, dusk-toned man, in sirihish:
"What, don't ya'll Kuraci ever fuck in the ass?"
Bursting into a laugh, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette buries her face against the willowy, grey-streaked man's shoulder.
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man again bursts into uproarious laughter.
At your table, the furrowed, stubbled man says in sirihish, looking down at the fruit:
"Fek, yer a juicy one too. At least he'll enjoy it."
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man says, in sirihish:
"All's you gotta do is turn it around and do it from behind."
Smirking, the rugged, dusk-toned man says to the gaunt, grungy-bearded man, in sirihish:
"A'right. "
The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman slaps a palm against the table, laughing hard enough to almost lose her seat.
Tossing the sack over, the rugged, dusk-toned man gives some coins to the gaunt, grungy-bearded man.
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man shrugs his gangly shoulders helplessly, callous hand still extended toward the rugged, dusk-toned man.
The rugged, dusk-toned man opens a dusty expansive, crimson-fist emblazoned backpack.
The rugged, dusk-toned man puts his pile of allanaki coins into his dusty expansive, crimson-fist emblazoned backpack.
The furrowed, stubbled man gives his fleshy blue fruit to the gaunt, grungy-bearded man.
At your table, the willowy, grey-streaked man says in sirihish:
"I ain't sure I want to see this."
Amusedly, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette says, in sirihish:
"I thought the boot-licking was good, but -this- is -good-."
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man gets his small stone shotglass from a round, blue-painted table.
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man gets his small stone shotglass from a round, blue-painted table.
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man gets his small stone shotglass from a round, blue-painted table.
At your table, the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman says in sirihish:
"I think I'm about ta be scarred fer life."
The rugged, dusk-toned man watches the gaunt, grungy-bearded man, leaning back.
Patting her chest, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette says to the willowy, grey-streaked man, in sirihish:
"I'll hide your eyes for you. Sir."
At your table, the scarred, ebony-haired woman says in sirihish, grinning at the gaunt, grungy-bearded man:
"Be nice...this is the fruit's first time, ya know."
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man scowls and rummages around the table for a full glass.
At your table, the willowy, grey-streaked man says in sirihish, to the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette:
"Might be you'll have to."
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man stares at the gaunt, grungy-bearded man with full interest.
At your table, the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman says in sirihish:
"No wonder he's fekkin' tha fruit.. if he drank that many shotglasses."
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette says, in sirihish:
"He better not have, I told him not to get drunk."
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man tilts his chin up and drains his small stone shotglass with a bit've a flinch.
At your table, the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman says in sirihish:
"Cactus.. leave some fer tha rest of us ya fekkin' greedy shit."
The rugged, stubble-bearded templar has arrived from the north.
The rugged, dusk-toned man exclaims to the gaunt, grungy-bearded man, in sirihish:
"Get to it!"
The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman glances at the rugged, stubble-bearded templar and doubles over in laughter, trying to stand and salute but laughing so hard she misses her chest.
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man places his new stained spiky helmet on his head.
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette says, in sirihish:
"I hope this isn't how long it usually takes him."
At your table, the furrowed, stubbled man says in sirihish:
"S'called foreplay"
The willowy, grey-streaked man asks the gaunt, grungy-bearded man, in sirihish:
"You havin' trouble gettin' it up, lad?"
Unstrapping his stained leather swordbelt, the gaunt, grungy-bearded man drops his leggings to his knees.
At your table, the furrowed, stubbled man says in sirihish:
"You saw how he seduced it...what ya expect?"
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette eases up off of the willowy, grey-streaked man's lap, bows and salutes to the rugged, stubble-bearded templar, and then settles down again.
At your table, the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman says in sirihish:
"In front of tha Lord.. templar...."
The scarred, ebony-haired woman exclaims to the gaunt, grungy-bearded man, in sirihish:
"Let's see some action!"
The willowy, grey-streaked man says to the gaunt, grungy-bearded man, in sirihish:
"Try talkin' dirty to it."
Staring fascinatedly at the gaunt, grungy-bearded man, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette says, in sirihish:
"He's really gonna do it."
The slender, hack-haired man chuckles.
At your table, the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman says in sirihish, idly to the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette:
"Won' hurt the fruit that much from tha looks of it."
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man says, out of character:
"Consent needed."
The rugged, dusk-toned man says, out of character:
"yes, rofl."
The scarred, ebony-haired woman stands and gives a slightly off-balance bow to the rugged, stubble-bearded templar before retaking her seat.
The rugged, stubble-bearded templar says, out of character:
"Ooh, me me! What am I consenting to again?"
The furrowed, stubbled man says, out of character:
"Given"
The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman says, out of character:
"go for it, that's my call."
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man says, out of character:
"Uh, yeah."
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette says, out of character:
"Go ahead."
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man says, out of character:
"Fruit sex."
The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman says, out of character:
"You'll see :)"
Snickering, the rugged, dusk-toned man says to the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette, in sirihish:
"I -did- pay for th'shit."
The scarred, ebony-haired woman says, out of character:
"Go for it!"
You say, out of character:
"Given."
The reedy, sorrel-skinned woman says, out of character:
"yay for consent"
Tilting her head as she stares at the gaunt, grungy-bearded man, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette asks the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman, in sirihish:
"Is that all of it?"
At your table, the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman says in sirihish, tilting her head sideways:
"I think so..."
The willowy, grey-streaked man says, out of character:
"I'm not sure the fruit is consenting... but go for it."
The rugged, stubble-bearded templar pauses in the entryway, trying to make sense of the scene.
After playing with himself for a moment, the gaunt, grungy-bearded man manages a rather feeble erection.
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette tilts her head even farther, staring blatantly at the gaunt, grungy-bearded man and the hapless fruit.
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man grunts and shoves his thumb deeply into his fleshy blue fruit, pushing a hole out through the other side.
The furrowed, stubbled man shakes his head silently watching the gaunt, grungy-bearded man.
The scarred, ebony-haired woman snorts in laughter, watching the gaunt, grungy-bearded man with the fruit.
At your table, the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman says in sirihish:
"Shit.. the whores tha been chargin' him twenty sid been overchargin' tha man."
The rugged, dusk-toned man watches the gaunt, grungy-bearded man quite closely, laughing the whole time.
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man stands from his chair, staring at the gaunt, grungy-bearded man with a can't-look-away-fascination written on his face.
In an artifically high voice, the willowy, grey-streaked man exclaims, in sirihish:
"No! Please! Aiee!"
The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman falls out of her chair laughing at the willowy, grey-streaked man's comment.
The slender, hack-haired man laughs loudly at the willowy, grey-streaked man's comment.
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette begins laughing helplessly, batting at the willowy, grey-streaked man's shoulder.
The scarred, ebony-haired woman bursts out laughing.
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man eases his fleshy blue fruit onto his dick and begins to slide it back and forth, face taut with concentration.
The reedy, sorrel-skinned woman moves to the table seeming completely lost at what is going on, but breaks into a guffaw as she draws close enough to see.
The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman crawls back into her seat, laughing so hard tears are rolling down her cheeks.
Amongst her laughter, the scarred, ebony-haired woman says to the gaunt, grungy-bearded man, in sirihish:
"Say something to it...show it you love it."
The rugged, stubble-bearded templar's jaw goes slack.
The rugged, dusk-toned man leans back, still laughing.
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man clutches his stomach, laughing so hard he falls back into his seat.
Between laughs, the rugged, dusk-toned man exclaims to the gaunt, grungy-bearded man, in sirihish:
"Talk dirty to it!"
The furrowed, stubbled man coughs, holding his stomach.
Grunting loudly, the gaunt, grungy-bearded man smacks the side of his fleshy blue fruit, his hips gyrating rhythmatically.
The slender, hack-haired man glances over at the door way, sees the rugged, stubble-bearded templar's face and nearly falls off his chair laughing.
The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman holds her side, wheezing for breath between laughs.
The reedy, sorrel-skinned woman drops to her knees and clutches her stomach, laughing herself to tears.
Laughing helplessly, the willowy, grey-streaked man says, in sirihish:
"Oh... shit... he should've at least bought it dinner first..."
Tears gleaming in her eyes and face flushing, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette just keeps laughing.
The rugged, dusk-toned man holds his gut, shaking his head as he continues to laugh.
The scarred, ebony-haired woman gasps for breath, laughing so hard that tears come to her eyes.
Moaning down at his fleshy blue fruit, the gaunt, grungy-bearded man says, in sirihish:
"Aw baby, mmm.... fuckin'.... yeahhhhhh.... you're almost as good as that kalan I had last week.. Ohhh.. ughh..."
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man rubs helplessly at one streaming eye at a time, his face crimson as he continues to laugh, almost choking.
The willowy, grey-streaked man screams out his laughter, nearly dropping the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette from his lap as he rocks back and forth in his chair.
Tears coming down his cheek, the furrowed, stubbled man says, in sirihish:
"Oh krath."
The slender, hack-haired man clucthes his sides, hanging onto his chair so he wont fall off in his mirth.
Gasping, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette says, in sirihish:
"Hope she took mul mix, I do -not- want to see the product of this union."
The rugged, stubble-bearded templar just stares on in disbelief, speechless.
The scarred, ebony-haired woman slaps her thigh, laughing helplessly.
The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman gives in, just resting her arms against the tabletop, laughing and crying as she watches in helpless fascination.
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man vigorously pumps himself a few more times into his fleshy blue fruit before finally exhaling and hunching over, his face flushed and slick with sweat.
Barely able to get the words out, the furrowed, stubbled man asks, in sirihish:
"Anyone hungry?"
To the fruit with a low, slurred drawl, the gaunt, grungy-bearded man says, in sirihish:
"Hope it was as good f'you as it was f'me.."
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette bursts into a fresh gale of laughter at the furrowed, stubbled man's question.
The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman bursts into more laughter, rubbing the back of a sleeve across her eyes.
The willowy, grey-streaked man exclaims, in sirihish:
"F...f....fruit salad!"
The slender, hack-haired man gets another look at the rugged, stubble-bearded templar's face, looks back to the gaunt, grungy-bearded man and finally looses the battle, falling off his chair and hitting the floor with a thump.
Finally managing to call out, the rugged, dusk-toned man exclaims, in sirihish:
"One small to whoever eats it!"
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man says to the rugged, dusk-toned man, in sirihish:
"Two."
Silently, the tall, amber-eyed woman comes around the bar and drops her white linen towel upon the tabletop.
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man lowers his forehead to a broad table of scarred agafari wood, hiding his face in the crook of his arm, still choking on laughter.
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man suddenly turns, noticing the rugged, stubble-bearded templar and paling.
The tall, amber-eyed woman puts her white linen towel onto a broad table of scarred agafari wood.
Bowing swiftly, the gaunt, grungy-bearded man salutes the rugged, stubble-bearded templar, his pants still at his knees.
Just as silently, the tall, amber-eyed woman walks back to her station behind the bar.
The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman bursts into more laughter, slapping a hand against her knee and whimpering in helpless merriment.
The scarred, ebony-haired woman laughs, tears streaming down her face.
The reedy, sorrel-skinned woman wipes tears from her face, still shaking from laughter as she collects herself from the floor.
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette stares at the tall, amber-eyed woman, laughing and wiping her eyes.
Staring over in awe, the rugged, stubble-bearded templar asks the tall, amber-eyed woman, in sirihish:
".. 's anyone ever done anythin' more ridiculous 'n this in yer bar?"
Still on the floor, the slender, hack-haired man clucthes your sides in mirth, rolling with laughter.
The rugged, dusk-toned man bursts into renewed laughter, leaning into a boxy wooden bar.
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man looks down at the rugged, dusk-toned man.
Gravely pouring herself a drink, the tall, amber-eyed woman says to the rugged, stubble-bearded templar, in sirihish:
"Not for a good many years, Lord Templar."
At your table, the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman says in sirihish:
"oh.. oh.... oh.. it hurts..... "
The scarred, ebony-haired woman clutches at her stomach, her breath coming in short gasps.
The willowy, grey-streaked man eventually catches his breath, burying his face in the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette's chest as he wheezes and gasps.
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man lifts his face from a broad table of scarred agafari wood, wiping at his streaming eyes and just shaking his head.
Squinting over dubiously, the gaunt, grungy-bearded man asks the rugged, dusk-toned man, in sirihish:
"So do I get two small for eatin' this shit, or what?"
The rugged, dusk-toned man exclaims, in sirihish:
"Best... 'sid... I -ever- spent!"
The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman chuckles at the rugged, dusk-toned man.
Yanking up his pants, the gaunt, grungy-bearded man cinches his stained leather swordbelt about his waist.
At your table, the furrowed, stubbled man says in sirihish:
"Best fruit I ever picked."
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette pulls the willowy, grey-streaked man against her, her laughter quieting and shoulders shaking.
Licking at his lips, and finally managing to stop laughing, the rugged, dusk-toned man says to the gaunt, grungy-bearded man, in sirihish:
"Hmm.. one small. I a'ready gave ya' two an' a half, y'greedy fuck."
His voice muffled, the willowy, grey-streaked man says, in sirihish:
"I ain't sure there's any point in playin' anymore. Ain't nothin' gonna top that."
The scarred, ebony-haired woman shakes her head, and wipes her eyes.
The rugged, stubble-bearded templar looks down at the furrowed, stubbled man.
At your table, the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman says in sirihish, between giggles:
"Have.. ta... agree.. with that."
The reedy, sorrel-skinned woman pants for breath, a hand still clutching her stomach as she stares at the table in disbelief.
The slender, hack-haired man's laughter slows, and he is able to climb back up on your chair.
Indignantly as he tilts up his bearded chin, the gaunt, grungy-bearded man says to the rugged, stubble-bearded templar, in sirihish:
"One and a half."
Shaking her head slowly and wiping her eyes, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette says, in sirihish:
"I think we're done with Whira's Luck for the night. That was the best ever."
Shaking his head, the rugged, dusk-toned man says to the gaunt, grungy-bearded man, in sirihish:
"Fuckin' deal."
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man puts his deck of Kruth cards onto a broad table of scarred agafari wood.
The furrowed, stubbled man continues coughing as he wipes the tears from his cheek.
Frowning with disappointment, the caramel, alabaster-haired woman asks, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Wha'I miss?"
Tossing it over, the rugged, dusk-toned man gives some coins to the gaunt, grungy-bearded man.
The rugged, stubble-bearded templar turns away, holding a hand to his face.
The rugged, dusk-toned man exclaims to the gaunt, grungy-bearded man, in sirihish:
"EAT IT!"
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette exclaims to the caramel, alabaster-haired woman, in sirihish:
"Cactus fucked a fruit!"
Teras of laughter drying on her cheeks, the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman says to the caramel, alabaster-haired woman, in sirihish:
"Righ.. here."
Slapping her forehead, the caramel, alabaster-haired woman says, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Oh krath..."
Just as soon as he takes the coins, the gaunt, grungy-bearded man takes a big bite from his fleshy blue fruit and gnashes away at it unflinchingly.
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man eats a portion of his fleshy blue fruit.
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man eats a portion of his partially eaten fleshy blue fruit.
Adding, with renewed laughter, the rugged, dusk-toned man says to the caramel, alabaster-haired woman, in sirihish:
"Now he's gonna ea-"
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man eats a portion of his half eaten fleshy blue fruit.
The rugged, dusk-toned man stops talking, and just laughs.
The rugged, stubble-bearded templar turns back and looks toward a broad table of scarred agafari wood, his face red.
Shaking her head with a somber tone, the caramel, alabaster-haired woman says, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Y'jus' ruined y'chances, Cactus. Y'dumbass."
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man eats a portion of his small portion of a fleshy blue fruit.
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man snickers helplessly into his hand.
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man says to the caramel, alabaster-haired woman, in sirihish:
"I'd take a ginka over you any day, baby."
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette stares at the gaunt, grungy-bearded man.
The reedy, sorrel-skinned woman breaks into a fresh round of uncontrollable laughter, hand grasping at the nearest chair back to steady herself.
The scarred, ebony-haired woman laughs.
The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman leans against your side, snickering now and then as she watches the gaunt, grungy-bearded man.
The furrowed, stubbled man groans, shaking his head slowly.
Bellowing out, the rugged, stubble-bearded templar shouts, in sirihish:
"FIRST UNIT, AT ATTENTION."
The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman stands up from a broad table of scarred agafari wood.
The caramel, alabaster-haired woman snorts softly, giving cactus a disbelieving stare.
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man stands up from a broad table of scarred agafari wood.
The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman stands up, snapping to attention.
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette hops from the willowy, grey-streaked man's lap.
Abruptly, you stand up from a broad table of scarred agafari wood.
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man snaps to attention.
The caramel, alabaster-haired woman snaps to attention.
The scarred, ebony-haired woman remains seated, her laughter fading away.
The reedy, sorrel-skinned woman scurries out of the way, still laughing hysterically.
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette straightens to attention, gaze going to the rugged, stubble-bearded templar.
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man suddenly stiffens to attention, facing the rugged, stubble-bearded templar.
The rugged, dusk-toned man looks up, his laughter suddenly stopping.
Straightening his squaring his shoulders, the willowy, grey-streaked man stands up from a broad table of scarred agafari wood.
The slender, hack-haired man stands at attention, gaze on the rugged, stubble-bearded templar.
The rugged, stubble-bearded templar looks at the gaunt, grungy-bearded man.
Barking out, the rugged, stubble-bearded templar says to the gaunt, grungy-bearded man, in sirihish:
"You a soldier or a prostitute, son? GET YER FUCKIN' PANTS BACK ON."
You think:
"Hey, it's not me for once."
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man makes sure his belt is tightly secured.
Flicking a glnce over, you look at the gaunt, grungy-bearded man.
A pair of broad, black obsidian eyes squint forth from slanted sockets
set widely across this tall man's face. Nicks and scrapes adorn his head
from it having been crudely shaven, and aside his from a small rat-tail
dangling down his scrawny neck, his only mane is a gritty sheen of black
stubble. All of his hair has been dispersed around his thick, scabby lips.
A full, stiffly bristled beard puffs out; it is matted with grease, bits of
debris, and is rigid with dried sweat. He is young and mostly free of
scars, although his hands and forearms have numerous lacerations, some more
severe than others. A wound has claimed the tips of the forefinger and
middle finger on his left hand, leaving callous stubs. A crudely-inked
tattoo of a woman, eyes wide with shock, taking it in the rear from a cactus
has been scrawled amongst the scars on his forearm.
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man is in excellent condition.
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man is using:
<worn on head> a new stained spiky helmet
<worn around neck> a stained inky-black leather collar
<slung across back> a double-edged bone shortsword
<worn across back> a round black shield
<worn on left shoulder> a black leather patch with a jade cross
<worn on arms> a pair of leather-reinforced sandcloth sleeves
<worn around wrist> a studded bone bracer
<worn around wrist> a spiked leather bracer
<worn on hands> a set of mesh-covered, tembo-hide gloves
<forearms> a pair of pitted, deep looking scars
<worn around body> a long, hooded aba of black sandcloth
<worn on legs> a pair of leather-reinforced sandcloth leggings
<worn on feet> a pair of knee-high dark leather boots
He is carrying:
nothing obvious
Pointing northwards, the rugged, stubble-bearded templar shouts, in sirihish:
"I'm out there workin' t' get gith killed and yer all in here -- laughin' about some dumbshit havin' sex with FRUIT? You men soldiers or Bynners? For FUCK SAKE!"
Stammering out the words, the gaunt, grungy-bearded man says to the rugged, stubble-bearded templar, in sirihish:
"Th-th-th-they're o-o-on, M-m-M'lord Templar"
The slender, hack-haired man lips twitch.
Flatly, the willowy, grey-streaked man says to the gaunt, grungy-bearded man, in sirihish:
"Shut up."
Staring, the rugged, stubble-bearded templar says to the gaunt, grungy-bearded man, in sirihish:
"Did YOU just talk out 'f order? Yer th' LAST one I wanna hear shit from."
The rugged, stubble-bearded templar asks the willowy, grey-streaked man, in sirihish:
"Sergeant! Yer men are t' run three laps between here and th' Gaj, then report to barracks fer inspection. That clear?"
The caramel, alabaster-haired woman glances between cactus and templar with her eyes.
Pursing his thick, busted lips, the gaunt, grungy-bearded man bows his head low and locks his eyes on the ale-stained floor.
Jerking his hand out towards the plaza, the rugged, stubble-bearded templar exclaims to the willowy, grey-streaked man, in sirihish:
"ON THE FUCKIN' DOUBLE!"
Simply, the willowy, grey-streaked man says, in sirihish:
"Fall in, y'all."
The willowy, grey-streaked man bows to the rugged, stubble-bearded templar's in passing, his expression neutral.
The willowy, grey-streaked man nods at the caramel, alabaster-haired woman.
The willowy, grey-streaked man walks north.
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man nods at the caramel, alabaster-haired woman.
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man walks north.
The caramel, alabaster-haired woman walks north.
You follow the willowy, grey-streaked man, and walk north.
[they do some laps]
His expression still blank, the willowy, grey-streaked man says, in sirihish:
"Think I'm gonna call you Fruits from now on, lad."
The caramel, alabaster-haired woman snickers loudly before covering her mouth with her hand.
Hoarsely, the gaunt, grungy-bearded man says to the caramel, alabaster-haired woman, in sirihish:
"That shit'll sober a fella up quick, m'dear."
As she jogs, breathing evenly, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette sings, in sirihish:
"And ooh, Jade Saber lasses, now they're the real thing,
The fiercest, finest, toughest girls that e'er a sword did swing."
Pointing back at the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette sings, in sirihish:
"Untold pleasures you'll achieve if you get one into bed,
Though I'd advise you satisfy, or you'll quickly end up dead!"
Flatly, the willowy, grey-streaked man says, in sirihish:
"One."
In a lowered voice as he jogs along, the gaunt, grungy-bearded man says to the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette, in sirihish:
"I got a cadence, sir."
The willowy, grey-streaked man says, in sirihish:
"Two."
The willowy, grey-streaked man loops yet again.
The willowy, grey-streaked man says, in sirihish:
"Double-time."
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette sings, in sirihish:
"He's a veteran of many years, as you will quickly tell,
When he kicks the enemy's ass up one side, then back down into hell!"
The willowy, grey-streaked man runs north.
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man runs north.
The caramel, alabaster-haired woman runs north.
You follow the willowy, grey-streaked man, and run north.
[eventually they enter the Barrel again]
The veins buldging from his neck, the gaunt, grungy-bearded man shouts, in sirihish:
"Left, right, left, right, left, right... KILL!!"
The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman chuckles.
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette laughs and stumbles a step.
The reedy, sorrel-skinned woman collapses into laughter at the shouts.
As he lopes along, the gaunt, grungy-bearded man shouts, in sirihish:
"Left, right, left, right, you know I WILL!"
The scarred, ebony-haired woman giggles again.
The willowy, grey-streaked man jogs right through the tavern, leading a large group of giggling soldiers.
The rugged, dusk-toned man begins to laugh again as the group steps in, despite himself.
The willowy, grey-streaked man runs south.
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man runs south.
The caramel, alabaster-haired woman runs south.
You follow the willowy, grey-streaked man, and run south.
The willowy, grey-streaked man opens his right hand, revealing his small stone shotglass.
The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman grins at the willowy, grey-streaked man.
Tossing his head back, the willowy, grey-streaked man drinks brandy from his small stone shotglass.
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man shouts, in sirihish:
"Oh me, we're the infantry -- Oh me, we're the infantry!"
Tossing it over a shoulder as she jogs, the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman discards her small stone shotglass.
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man shouts, in sirihish:
"Gunna show the gith!"
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man shouts, in sirihish:
"What we're trained to be!"
The willowy, grey-streaked man exclaims, in sirihish:
"Hup, two, three four! I'm th' fuckin' hero of th' Copper War!"
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette cheers and whoops.
Singing out as she paces along, the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman shouts, in sirihish:
"An' if they ain' scared of us like they should be;We'll paint like a belshun an set Cactus free."
The willowy, grey-streaked man exclaims, in sirihish:
"Five, six, eight, ten! I killed me a dozen Tuluki men!"
Singing out as she paces along, the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman shouts, in sirihish:
"An' if they ain' scared of us like they should be/We'll paint em like a belshun an set Cactus free."
The slender, hack-haired man chuckles, as he jogs along.
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette presses a hand to her side, laughing and wincing.
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man chortles breathlessly.
The willowy, grey-streaked man exclaims, in sirihish:
"Seven, nine, three, two! I killed me one'a them templars too!"
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man's narrow chest rattles with a ragged bout of snickering at the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman's words.
The willowy, grey-streaked man slows as he approaches the dusty, brown-haired soldier.
The willowy, grey-streaked man says, in sirihish:
"Right. Even out, children. Take a minute to catch yerselves."
The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman moves over to the side of the road, brushing herself off.
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette nods to the willowy, grey-streaked man and bends over, catching her breath.
The dusty, brown-haired soldier stops using her carru-horn key.
The dusty, brown-haired soldier unlocks the gateway with a carru-horn key.
The dusty, brown-haired soldier opens the gateway.
The dusty, brown-haired soldier steps aside, allowing the willowy, grey-streaked man to pass.
The willowy, grey-streaked man walks north.
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man walks north.
You follow the willowy, grey-streaked man, and walk north.
Sparse sands blow across your path.
A Stonepaved Courtyard [NES]
The stones paving this courtyard are newly cut, rough edges waiting
for the wear that will smooth their grey and black surface. To the east
sits a large barracks, the arms of House Tor carved above them and gleaming
with fresh paint. Along its side is an animal pen, made of wood, which
leans into the shelter of the larger building. Stone walls surround the
courtyard, topped with broken glass to keep away the worst of Allanak's
notorious thieves. A large mural, depicting the siege of the city by
rebel dwarves, their short, squat forms fleeing in terror from Tektolnes'
might in the final stages, has been painted onto the blank stone of one
wall, apparently to serve as inspiration for the troops training here.
The willowy, grey-streaked man is standing here, looking a bit winded.
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man is standing here, looking a bit winded.
- he is carrying a jozhal-hide backpack.
The bushy-browed, gangly half-giant slouches here.
The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman has arrived from the south.
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man has arrived from the south.
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette has arrived from the south.
The dusty, brown-haired soldier closes the gateway from the other side.
Panting raggedly, the gaunt, grungy-bearded man lopes slowly around in a circle for a while, cooling down.
Passing a few, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette gives some coins to the gaunt, grungy-bearded man.
Sparse sands blow across your path.
A Roomy Barracks [NEW Quit Save]
The thickness of the dull red mud bricks of which this barracks has
been built provides it with a coolness which resists the worst of the
Zalanthan sun. The furnishings are simple: neatly ordered cots sit in rows,
a few with footlockers built into one end, while a large weapons rack hangs
on the wall underneath a wooden frieze depicting the desert, gith, jozhals
and scrabs moving through the dunes. Below the frieze, extending down the
walls and covering the floor, are ceramic tiles composed of all the hues of
the desert: vermilion, bronze, amber, rust, tawny yellow, and ochre. The
tiles are laid in an abstract, undulating pattern reminiscent of rolling
dunes.
Under the weapons rack, a cracked stone storage bin is filled with mismatched armor pieces.
Pushed against a wall, a bone sided chest is filled with desert survival equipment.
Pushed against a wall, a simple wooden chest is filled with raw materials.
The willowy, grey-streaked man is standing here, looking a bit winded.
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man is standing here, looking a bit winded.
- he is carrying a jozhal-hide backpack.
A human soldier of Tektolnes walks along here.
A human soldier of Tektolnes walks along here.
The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman has arrived from the west.
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man has arrived from the west.
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette has arrived from the west.
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette says to the gaunt, grungy-bearded man, in sirihish:
"Happy birthday to me."
The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman grins at the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette.
The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman says to the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette, in sirihish:
"Yer birthdays gonna be tha talk of the town fer a long long time."
The willowy, grey-streaked man says, in sirihish:
"Shaddup, y'all."
The willowy, grey-streaked man says to the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette, in sirihish:
"Tell th' Lord Templar we're here."
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette grins at the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman and then looks back to the willowy, grey-streaked man.
The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman moves over to formation, snapping to attention and clasping her hands behind her back.
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man opens his mouth toward the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette then clamps it shut, dark eyes shiting to the willowy, grey-streaked man.
The caramel, alabaster-haired woman sighs, lowering her eyes with a dreading expression.
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette nods to the willowy, grey-streaked man, her gaze growing distant.
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette says to the willowy, grey-streaked man, in sirihish:
"Message relayed, sir."
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man steps into line, motioning to the gaunt, grungy-bearded man and the caramel, alabaster-haired woman.
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man swallows hard and stands at parade rest, hands clasped behind his back.
The caramel, alabaster-haired woman steps beside the burn-scarred, curly-haired man, sighing as she places her body into its appropriate position.
The rugged, stubble-bearded templar has arrived from the west.
The rugged, stubble-bearded templar walks north.
The rugged, stubble-bearded templar closes the door from the other side.
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette's gaze follows the templar's path before snapping straight ahead again.
The rugged, stubble-bearded templar opens the door from the other side.
The rugged, stubble-bearded templar has arrived from the north, stalking out with a steel-edged glare.
The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman keeps her eyes dead ahead, not even twitching.
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man stares forward with glazed, reddened eyes.
The willowy, grey-streaked man folds his hands at the small of his back.
Looking back and forth, the rugged, stubble-bearded templar asks, in sirihish:
"I'm in the militia barracks, right? This ain't the Byn?"
Looking at the rugged, stubble-bearded templar for just a moment, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette nods.
Looking up and down the line, the rugged, stubble-bearded templar asks, in sirihish:
"You men ARE soldiers? YES 'R NO?"
Firmly, the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman exclaims, in sirihish:
"Yes sir!"
Firmly, the burn-scarred, curly-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Yes my Lord."
Emphatically, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette says to the rugged, stubble-bearded templar, in sirihish:
"Yes, my Lord."
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man shouts, in sirihish:
"Yes Lord Templar!"
The willowy, grey-streaked man says, in sirihish:
"Ayuh."
Snapping up even straighter, you exclaim, in sirihish:
"Yes, Lord Templar!"
The caramel, alabaster-haired woman exclaims, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Yes Lord Templar!"
Glaring up and down the line, the rugged, stubble-bearded templar says, in sirihish:
"That's YES LORD TEMPLAR. Least -some- 'f you got 't right."
The rugged, stubble-bearded templar shoots the willowy, grey-streaked man a look, stalking up and down the line, his hands clenched into fists.
After a moment, the willowy, grey-streaked man says, in sirihish:
"Yes, Lord Templar."
The caramel, alabaster-haired woman purses her lips for a moment, before wiping away expression from her features.
With a clenched jaw, the gaunt, grungy-bearded man stands rigidly and stares at a wall with a hard, near unblinking gaze.
Pausing in front of her, barking into her face, the rugged, stubble-bearded templar asks the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman, in sirihish:
"This funny, Nae? You havin' a good ol' time?"
The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman exclaims, in sirihish:
"No Lord Templar.. not anymore Lord Templar!"
The slender, hack-haired man eyes slide over to view the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman and the rugged, stubble-bearded templar.
The rugged, stubble-bearded templar grunts and walks on down the line, stopping again in front of the caramel, alabaster-haired woman.
The rugged, stubble-bearded templar asks the caramel, alabaster-haired woman, in sirihish:
"Do you even know how t' talk proper yet?"
With a steady tone, the caramel, alabaster-haired woman says, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Yes Lord Templar, I speak proper."
With a roll of his eyes, the rugged, stubble-bearded templar says to the caramel, alabaster-haired woman, in sirihish:
"Proper if yer some kinda Arabet, mebbe."
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette clears her throat very quietly, obviously suppressing a smile.
The caramel, alabaster-haired woman says, in sirihish:
"I do not think so, Lord Templar."
Pointing over at him, the rugged, stubble-bearded templar says to the gaunt, grungy-bearded man, in sirihish:
"And YOU. You are the craziest fuckin' person in this barracks, and that's sayin' a LOT."
Wheeling back, the rugged, stubble-bearded templar exclaims to the caramel, alabaster-haired woman, in sirihish:
"I say anything to you, soldier?!"
The slender, hack-haired man mouth twitches a moment, then moves back straight.
The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman's eyes shift to the caramel, alabaster-haired woman briefly before snapping back ahead.
Staring forward unblinkingly, voice crisp, the gaunt, grungy-bearded man shouts, in sirihish:
"Yes, Lord Templar!"
Staring ahead with a swallow, the caramel, alabaster-haired woman says, in sirihish:
"No, Lord Templar, you did not."
Gruffly, the rugged, stubble-bearded templar says, in sirihish:
"On yer knees! Both 'f you! Take them patches off and toss 'em down in front of ya."
Kneeling down and unstrapping his patch, the gaunt, grungy-bearded man sits down.
Dropping to her knees and reaching for her black leather patch with a jade cross, the caramel, alabaster-haired woman sits down to rest.
Putting it on the ground before him, the gaunt, grungy-bearded man gives his black leather patch with a jade cross to the rugged, stubble-bearded templar.
Quivering, the gaunt, grungy-bearded man kneels, head hung low.
Dropping it promptly, the caramel, alabaster-haired woman gives her black leather patch with a jade cross to the rugged, stubble-bearded templar.
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man continues to stare forward expressionlessly.
Looking back up the line, the rugged, stubble-bearded templar says, in sirihish:
"And the rest of you, you all ought t' KNOW better. I really thought y'would. Fuck sake, I want ALL 'f you down."
Kneeling at the rugged, stubble-bearded templar's command, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette sits down.
Dropping to his knees, the burn-scarred, curly-haired man sits down.
The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman drops to her knees, eyes closing briefly.
Kneeling expressionlessly, you sit down.
Dropping to a knee, the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman sits down.
Staring at a point just over the rugged, stubble-bearded templar's shoulder, the willowy, grey-streaked man sits down.
Letting out a grunt (or maybe a snicker?), the rugged, stubble-bearded templar looks up and down the kneeling line, wordlessly.
The rugged, stubble-bearded templar asks, in sirihish:
"Y'all remind me of my old unit, them farmboys out 'n MENOS. Y'know what th' only difference I can see right now is?"
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette shakes her head very slightly.
Tonelessly, the burn-scarred, curly-haired man says, in sirihish:
"No Lord Templar."
Finally busting out into laughter, the rugged, stubble-bearded templar says, in sirihish:
"Those fuckers woulda TOLD me afore they got their 'cruits t' do shit that funny."
Quietly, the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman says, in sirihish:
"No Lord Templar.."
The slender, hack-haired man blinks at the rugged, stubble-bearded templar.
The vibrant, jade-adorned brunette bursts into a quiet laugh, dropping her head.
The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman glances up briefly, a startled expression on her face.
The caramel, alabaster-haired woman furrows her brow, glancing to the rugged, stubble-bearded templar.
The burn-scarred, curly-haired man smiles broadly, dipping his chin.
The willowy, grey-streaked man tilts his head back, exhaling with a huff.
The rugged, stubble-bearded templar laughs and shakes his head for several moments before dropping a hand down into his burned oversized black backpack.
Clearing her throat and looking up to the rugged, stubble-bearded templar, the caramel, alabaster-haired woman asks, in sirihish:
"Ah... Lord Templar...?"
Amusedly, the willowy, grey-streaked man says, in sirihish:
"Didn't nobody think he was actually gonna -do- it 'till he went and dropped his drawers, Lord Templar."
The rugged, stubble-bearded templar pulls a dustcloak out of a burned blue, hooded templar's robe.
The rugged, stubble-bearded templar pulls a dustcloak out of a burned blue, hooded templar's robe.
The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman nods in silent agreement with the willowy, grey-streaked man's words.
The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman says, in sirihish:
"Then we was laughin' too hard ta really think, Lord Templar."
The caramel, alabaster-haired woman lowers her eyes, her lips twisting.
Kneeling but straight-postured, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette watches the rugged, stubble-bearded templar with a wide smile.
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man keeps his eyes locked on the floor and continues to kneel tensely.
His angry expression from a few moments ago gone completely, the rugged, stubble-bearded templar says, in sirihish:
"You men 'r a unit now, I can see that much. That's good, that's what we need against them gith. You fight together 'n fuck around together, you'll all live."
------------
Everyone gets promoted, and gets badges for service. It's only later that Jenneth finds out after they left the Barrel, the Lord Templar Samos was cracking up so hard, he was literally rolling around on the floor. But shhh, he made everyone swear not to tell. ;)
It’s a long log, to get you into the mood of the scene. I apologize for the crappy formatting, but it’s the crazy Arm Original Submissions doing it, not me.
-------
The gaunt, grungy-bearded man has arrived from the north.
At your table, the burn-scarred, curly-haired man...
Continue Reading...Luir's Outpost Auction & Arena Event [Part 1] by Mansa
Added on Nov 15, 2009In 2004, there was a Recommended Playing Time to play Armageddon, and the event was an Arena Game and Auction in Luir's Outpost. Agent Oseres Kadius, always a party whereever he goes, shows up for fun and to make some deals with House Kurac. This is a -long- log, and is rather raw, but it shows what sort of things happen during a busy event.
>look
The Higher Tier Stands [E]
These are the western and more opulant stands of the fighting pit of
Luir's Outpost, whose black stone walls and strangely horned buildings are
visible to the east. While the walls of the pit below are built of stone,
the stands are wooden. Rows of benches fill the lower section of this area
of the stands, with cleared areas for hawkers and those taking and making
bets. A gracefully canopied section against the uppermost row of the stands
has properly cushioned chairs and is obviously set apart for those of some
standing.
A terrace staircase opens up to the east and leads out of the seating
area and the view below is of the red-stained sands of the fighting pit
itself.
A shadow falls over the area, driving off the uncomfortable heat.
Lined up with the best view of the stage is a cloth-padded wooden bench.
The tall figure in an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak is standing here.
The trim, amber-locked woman is sitting on a cloth-padded wooden bench.
The tall figure in an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak stands by a figure in a leather duster.
The tall figure in an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak is standing here, looking a bit winded.
The very tall figure in a dusty orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak is standing here.
>l tables
At 1) a cloth-padded wooden bench are:
the trim, amber-locked woman, and a few empty seats.
At 2) a cloth-padded wooden bench are:
the effeminate, pompadoured man, and a few empty seats.
At 3) a cloth-padded wooden bench are:
a few empty seats.
>l e
To the east is the Terrace Overlooking the Fighting Pit.
[Far]
The callous, thorn-inked man is standing here.
The pale, vermillion-eyed man is standing here.
The horribly thin young woman is standing here.
The thick, war-braided young man is standing here.
The flint-eyed, jasper-haired man sits here, smelling strongly of spice.
The slender, raven-haired man is standing here.
The ruddy-hued brown-haired woman is sitting on a long wooden bench.
The horribly scarred, blind man is sitting on a long wooden bench.
The huge figure in a desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak sits quietly on a bench, atching the crowd.
The tall male wearing a thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap is sitting on a long wooden ench.
The tall figure in a dusty set of hooded, shadow-grey robes sits in a bench here.
The small, tanned dwarf sits in the center of the first row of benches.
The blue-eyed dwarven woman oversees the stands here.
[Near]
The tall, willowy woman is standing here.
The tall, spindly man is standing here.
The aquiline, blond man stands sentry here, his blue eyes watchful.
The opaline, frost-haired half-elf is standing here.
The huge figure in an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak is standing here.
The gargantuan, blonde-haired man is standing here.
The rugged, dusty-blonde haired man is standing here.
The ragged-maned half-giant is standing here.
The wiry, war-braided young man is standing here.
The weathered young man is standing here.
The tattooed female dwarf is standing here.
The plaited, emerald-eyed woman is standing here.
The small-headed, dark gray dwarf is standing here.
The young gangling man is standing here.
The decrepit-looking, worn dwarf is standing here.
The lithe, brown-haired young man is standing here.
The buxom, red-haired woman is standing here.
The slight, blonde-haired man is standing here.
The whipcord thin man stands here, eyes narrowed.
The fire-haired, ruby-eyed man stands near the railing to the pit.
The rugged, goateed man is standing here.
The runic, blood-toned half-giant is here, looking extremely tense and wild eyed.
The fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf is standing here.
The burly, cobalt-skinned dwarf is standing here.
An obese, beady-eyed man moves around, hawking items from a tray of food.
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"I'll probley be out of the match first round."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"You're entering?"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"I guess it wouldnt hurt for maybe a round."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Five hundred coins per entry, one thousand per team of two."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"I'll also need names, either stage or real."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"And I should pay you, sir?"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Barvel and my self sir"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"For five hundred coins?"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"You and barvel?"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Yes sir, as a team"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Is that how much it costs to register?"
The trim, amber-locked woman lowers the hood of a sleek, crimson leather duster.
The trim, amber-locked woman tugs down her hood, her features set into hard lines as she gazes down into the fighting pit.
>l fianna
A thick mane of dark amber hair falls past this human woman's shouldersin waves, save for her bangs which are trimmed in spiky chunks to frame theperidot-hued orbs of her glittering eyes. A feral, yellow-green in color,they peer past the long veils of her golden lashes above the refinedcrescents of her cheekbones. A sensuously full mouth resides beneath theaquiline ridge of her nose, shadowed lightly by the slight flare of hernostrils. Accenting the otherwise feminine features of her face with astrong, square line is a stubbornly-set jaw that leads down to her tonedneck and shoulders. Beneath the covering of her tawny-gold skin, her petiteframe is shaped with a layer of toned muscle, giving her small body a solidbut graceful appearance.
The trim, amber-locked woman is in excellent condition.
The trim, amber-locked woman is using:
<worn in left ear> an earring of glittering black glass
<worn in right ear> an earring of glittering black glass
<worn around neck> a bejeweled, black leather choker
<worn across back> a black silk shoulder bag
<worn on right shoulder> a grey leather pauldron
<worn on left shoulder> a grey leather pauldron
<worn around wrist> a twisting, jade serpent
<worn around wrist> a silvery woven, black silk wrap
<worn on right finger> a chunky, topaz-set bone ring
<worn on left finger> a jet-inlaid marble signet ring
<worn around body> a sleek, crimson leather duster
<worn on legs> a pair of tightly-stitched scarlet leather pants
<worn on right ankle> an onyx serpentine anklet
<worn on left ankle> a silvery woven, black silk wrap
<worn on feet> a pair of calf-high scarlet leather boots
The tall figure in an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak stares down towards the pit.
Down in the pit someone opens the doors from the other side.
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul has arrived from the south.
Down in the pit the huge figure in a veiled sandcloth turban has arrived from the south.
Down in the pit The largest of a pack of wild gortok, a beast with feral red eyes turns toward the southern doorway, eyeing a wild-eyed mul.
Down in the pit A wild-eyed mul is shoved roughly onto the sands.
Down in the pit someone closes the doors from the other side.
Down in the pit A wild-eyed mul moves back to back with the huge figure in a veiled sandcloth turban, staring at the pack of gortoks.
Down in the pit A pack of wild gortok circles toward a wild-eyed mul's shout, each beast crouching low and baring its teeth.
>emote slides down along ~bench, crossing an aisle, and over to %fianna bench
The effeminate, pompadoured man slides down along a cloth-padded wooden bench, crossing an aisle, and over to the trim, amber-locked woman's bench.
>sit with fianna
[Standing first]
You sit down on a cloth-padded wooden bench.
The tall figure in an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak looks down at you.
The tall figure in an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak stares down at you, his hand dropping to your shoulder.
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Next?"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Hmm, teams of two..."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"I wish to sign up."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"One or two."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"never mind, I need to save my coins"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Stand together"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Aye, no teams of three like the last one?"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"aye"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Not unless there is enough interest."
>talk (flashing a grin towards ~fianna) Hey love.
At your seat, you say in cavilish, flashing a grin towards the trim, amber-locked woman:
"Hey love."
Lifting a black eyebrow, the tall figure in an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak asks you, in sirihish:
"Yeh there. Th'Advisor tell yeh ya could sit wi' 'er?"
Down in the pit A wild-eyed mul moves forward, slashing out at the lead gortok.
Down in the pit Suddenly, as if on-signal, a pack of wild gortok lunge.
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul swiftly dodges a pack of wild gortok's hits.
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul swiftly dodges a pack of wild gortok's hits.
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul swiftly dodges a pack of wild gortok's hits.
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul swiftly dodges a pack of wild gortok's hits.
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul slashes a pack of wild gortok's leg, connecting hard.
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul swiftly dodges a pack of wild gortok's hits.
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul swiftly dodges a pack of wild gortok's hits.
Down in the pit the huge figure in a veiled sandcloth turban heroically joins a wild-eyed mul's fight!
Down in the pit the huge figure in a veiled sandcloth turban pierces at a pack of wild gortok's body, nicking him.
Down in the pit a pack of wild gortok swiftly dodges the huge figure in a veiled sandcloth turban's whips.
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul swiftly dodges a pack of wild gortok's hits.
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul swiftly dodges a pack of wild gortok's hits.
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul slashes a pack of wild gortok on his arm, wounding him.
Down in the pit the huge figure in a veiled sandcloth turban tries to kick a pack of wild gortok in the chest, but he steps aside.
Down in the pit a pack of wild gortok swiftly dodges the huge figure in a veiled sandcloth turban's pierces.
Down in the pit a pack of wild gortok swiftly dodges the huge figure in a veiled sandcloth turban's whips.
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul swiftly dodges a pack of wild gortok's hits.
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul swiftly dodges a pack of wild gortok's hits.
Down in the pit the huge figure in a veiled sandcloth turban's blow bounces off a pack of wild gortok's tough skin.
Down in the pit a pack of wild gortok swiftly dodges the huge figure in a veiled sandcloth turban's whips.
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul swiftly dodges a pack of wild gortok's hits.
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul swiftly dodges a pack of wild gortok's hits.
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul swiftly dodges a pack of wild gortok's hits.
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul swiftly dodges a pack of wild gortok's hits.
Down in the pit a pack of wild gortok swiftly dodges the huge figure in a veiled sandcloth turban's pierces.
Down in the pit a pack of wild gortok swiftly dodges the huge figure in a veiled sandcloth turban's whips.
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul swiftly dodges a pack of wild gortok's hits.
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul swiftly dodges a pack of wild gortok's hits.
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul slashes a pack of wild gortok on his leg, wounding him.
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul swiftly dodges a pack of wild gortok's hits.
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul swiftly dodges a pack of wild gortok's hits.
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"See you dfown in the ring sarg, good luck."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Yeh and meh eh? or yeh want teh do singles?"
You hear a woman's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Indeed, this shall be legendary."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"How about both?"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Stand fast!"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"You and me then?"
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul swiftly dodges a pack of wild gortok's hits.
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul swiftly dodges a pack of wild gortok's hits.
Down in the pit the huge figure in a veiled sandcloth turban's blow bounces off a pack of wild gortok's tough skin.
Down in the pit a pack of wild gortok swiftly dodges the huge figure in a veiled sandcloth turban's whips.
Down in the pit One of a pack of wild gortok snaps onto a wild-eyed mul's arm, but is easily thrown aside.
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul slashes a pack of wild gortok's hand, connecting hard.
Down in the pit a pack of wild gortok lightly hits a wild-eyed mul's foot.
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul swiftly dodges a pack of wild gortok's hits.
Down in the pit a pack of wild gortok swiftly dodges a wild-eyed mul's slashes.
Down in the pit a pack of wild gortok solidly hits a wild-eyed mul's wrist.
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul swiftly dodges a pack of wild gortok's hits.
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul swiftly dodges a pack of wild gortok's hits.
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul swiftly dodges a pack of wild gortok's hits.
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul swiftly dodges a pack of wild gortok's hits.
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul swiftly dodges a pack of wild gortok's hits.
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"'kay."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"I'll register."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Yeh teamin' up wit one o' yer 'Bynners?"
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul swiftly dodges a pack of wild gortok's hits.
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul swiftly dodges a pack of wild gortok's hits.
Down in the pit the huge figure in a veiled sandcloth turban's blow bounces off a pack of wild gortok's tough skin.
Down in the pit a pack of wild gortok swiftly dodges the huge figure in a veiled sandcloth turban's whips.
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul swiftly dodges a pack of wild gortok's hits.
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul swiftly dodges a pack of wild gortok's hits.
Down in the pit the huge figure in a veiled sandcloth turban pierces at a pack of wild gortok's leg, nicking him.
Down in the pit a pack of wild gortok swiftly dodges the huge figure in a veiled sandcloth turban's whips.
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul viciously slashes a pack of wild gortok on his waist.
Down in the pit a pack of wild gortok swiftly dodges the huge figure in a veiled sandcloth turban's pierces.
Down in the pit a pack of wild gortok swiftly dodges the huge figure in a veiled sandcloth turban's whips.
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul swiftly dodges a pack of wild gortok's hits.
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul swiftly dodges a pack of wild gortok's hits.
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul slashes a pack of wild gortok's hand, connecting hard.
Down in the pit a pack of wild gortok avoids being bashed by a wild-eyed mul, who loses his balance and falls.
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul swiftly dodges a pack of wild gortok's hits.
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul swiftly dodges a pack of wild gortok's hits.
The tall, spindly man has arrived from the east.
The opaline, frost-haired half-elf has arrived from the east.
The aquiline, blond man has arrived from the east.
The tall, willowy woman has arrived from the east.
>say (turning around, glacing about the bunch of orange-cloaked figures) Who said that?
Turning around, glacing about the bunch of orange-cloaked figures, you ask, in cavilish:
"Who said that?"
The trim, amber-locked woman lifts a small, golden hand, making a subtle waving gesture.
The very tall figure in a dusty orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak looks down at you as he shifts his dark gaze away from the pit.
The tall figure in an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak dips his head to the trim, amber-locked woman and steps back, retaking his protective position at her back.
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul swiftly dodges a pack of wild gortok's hits.
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul swiftly dodges a pack of wild gortok's hits.
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul swiftly dodges a pack of wild gortok's hits.
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul swiftly dodges a pack of wild gortok's hits.
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul slashes a pack of wild gortok's leg, connecting hard.
Down in the pit A pack of wild gortok begins, as a unit, to back away from a wild-eyed mul and the huge figure in a veiled sandcloth turban.
Down in the pit a pack of wild gortok claws a wild-eyed mul's body, inflicting a grievous wound.
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul gets up and stands to his feet.
Down in the pit a pack of wild gortok swiftly dodges the huge figure in a veiled sandcloth turban's pierces.
Down in the pit a pack of wild gortok swiftly dodges the huge figure in a veiled sandcloth turban's whips.
Down in the pit a pack of wild gortok claws a wild-eyed mul on his leg, wounding him.
Down in the pit a pack of wild gortok viciously claws a wild-eyed mul on his body.
Down in the pit a pack of wild gortok brutally claws a wild-eyed mul on his body.
Down in the pit a thick obsidian longsword clatters to the ground as a wild-eyed mul releases it.
Down in the pit an used large round shield clatters to the ground as a wild-eyed mul releases it.
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul crumples to the ground.
Down in the pit a pack of wild gortok viciously claws the huge figure in a veiled sandcloth turban on her body.
Down in the pit a pack of wild gortok swiftly dodges the huge figure in a veiled sandcloth turban's pierces.
Down in the pit a pack of wild gortok swiftly dodges the huge figure in a veiled sandcloth turban's whips.
Down in the pit a pack of wild gortok claws the huge figure in a veiled sandcloth turban's body, inflicting a grievous wound.
Down in the pit a pack of wild gortok brutally claws the huge figure in a veiled sandcloth turban on her arm.
Down in the pit a pack of wild gortok viciously claws the huge figure in a veiled sandcloth turban on her body.
Down in the pit the huge figure in a veiled sandcloth turban cries out in pain.
You hear someone cry out in the distance.
Down in the pit a barb-headed, wooden longspear clatters to the ground as the huge figure in a veiled sandcloth turban releases it.
Down in the pit a wickedly barbed net clatters to the ground as the huge figure in a veiled sandcloth turban releases it.
Down in the pit the huge figure in a veiled sandcloth turban crumples to the ground.
The opaline, frost-haired half-elf follows along the tall, spindly man, tring hard not to look into the pit.
Leaning over the rail, the tall, spindly man shouts, in sirihish:
"That -had- to hurt!"
Down in the pit Half of a pack of wild gortok begins to tear at a wild-eyed mul as the rest of the creatures round toward a wild-eyed mul.
Down in the pit a pack of wild gortok claws a wild-eyed mul's body, inflicting a grievous wound.
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Your name, either stage or real?"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"I got it..Thanks though."
You hear a woman's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"We're all doin' singles."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Sergeant Seron, of the Tenneshi Guard."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Good luck to you, Sergeant. I will call you from the pit when its time."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"How much is it teh enteh both tournaments? A large or five hundred?"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"I wish to register."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Five hundred coins and your name."
The trim, amber-locked woman looks up at the tall, spindly man with a flick of her eyes, their gaze hard and jewel-bright.
>eq
You are using:
<worn on head> a large black and white hat
<worn on face> a smooth bone eyebrow ring
<worn around neck> a black silk collar, clasped with an ivory brooch
<worn about throat> a small, wooden whistle
<worn across back> a black silk shoulder bag
<worn on torso> a bloodied tight black silk shirt
<worn on arms> a pair of blue and purple armbands
<worn around wrist> a black silk wrist-wrap
<worn around wrist> a black silk wrist-wrap
<worn on hands> a pair of black silk gloves
<secondary hand> a leather-wrapped glass flask
<worn on right finger> an amethyst-set black bone ring
<worn on left finger> a bone ring
<worn on right finger> a ruby-set black bone ring
<worn on left finger> an embossed, silver signet ring
<worn as belt> a broad, obsidian-buttoned black silk belt
<worn around body> a black hooded silk greatcloak
<worn about waist> a svelte, black spice-kit
<worn on legs> a pair of tight black silk pants
<worn on right ankle> a deep black silk bandana
<worn on left ankle> a deep black silk bandana
<worn on feet> a pair of high, polished black leather boots
>talk (looking back to ~fianna, offering up ~flask) Drink?
At your seat, you say in cavilish, looking back to the trim, amber-locked woman, offering up your leather-wrapped glass flask:
"Drink?"
>i
You are carrying:
187 obsidian pieces
an irrig lamp
At your seat, the trim, amber-locked woman says in sirihish, her voice a quiet hiss:
"No thank you."
The tall, spindly man winks to the trim, amber-locked woman.
You hear a woman's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"The Byn is here when ye can get to us, Qeric-da."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"I am Joshua Klestion....the wanderer."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"'Dat was meh plan.. buh seein' yeh beh givin' meh cause tah ask yeh."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Good luck to you, I will call you when its time."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Next!"
Down in the pit Half of a pack of wild gortok begins to lose interest in the body of a wild-eyed mul, rounding to the body of a dusty elf.
>emote twists the cap back on ~flask, putting it away
The effeminate, pompadoured man twists the cap back on your leather-wrapped glass flask, putting it away.
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Many thanks."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"I wish teh register."
>rem flask
You stop using a leather-wrapped glass flask.
>open bag
Ok.
>put flask bag
You put a leather-wrapped glass flask inside a black silk shoulder bag.
>close bag
Ok.
Handlers rush in below, surrounding the pack with long spears as they herd them south.
Down in the pit someone opens the doors from the other side.
Down in the pit A pack of wild gortok growl and snap at the handlers, eventually being herded away.
Down in the pit a pack of wild gortok runs south.
Down in the pit someone closes the doors from the other side.
A crew moves in, dragging the bodies and gear from the blood stained sands below.
The tall, spindly man walks east.
The opaline, frost-haired half-elf walks east.
The aquiline, blond man walks east.
The tall, willowy woman walks east.
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"If I want teh enteh both, I have teh pay how much?"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"I give ya coins?"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Aye, alright."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Five hundred and your name again. I'm afriad I've forgotten it this day."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Guess ah'll beh seein' yeh on deh battlefield, eh?"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Hmm..Little Giant...Dat is meh name"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Ah ain't doubtin' yeh gonna beh 'dere."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"I have your name and coin already, Regular."
You hear a woman's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Aye, been too long since we locked blades."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"And he is my partner in the teams match"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"South and then east."
>open kit
Ok.
>l in kit
In a svelte, black spice-kit (used) :
a small, leather-wrapped bone ember box
a booklet of rolling papers
a pinch of black, viscous spice
a dragon-carved, ivory dagger
>talk (to ~fianna) Smoke?
At your seat, you say in cavilish, to the trim, amber-locked woman:
"Smoke?"
The trim, amber-locked woman's hands fall to ball the leather of her duster beneath them.
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Your name and coin?"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Hiroshi."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"The singles and team are seperate. Each will be five hundred if you wish to enter both."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Ok...Deh Singles den."
You hear a woman's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"We have there enterin' the singles competition, Veric-da."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"I'd like to register"
At your seat, the trim, amber-locked woman says in sirihish, her gaze flitting sidelong toward you:
"Tho'?"
>nod fianna
You nod to her.
At your seat, the trim, amber-locked woman says in cavilish, nodding quietly:
"Yes, please."
>talk (with a grin) From my brick you haven't had time to see.
At your seat, you say in cavilish, with a grin:
"From my brick you haven't had time to see."
>take booklet kit
You get a booklet of rolling papers from a svelte, black spice-kit.
It is very light.
>take pinch kit
You get a pinch of black, viscous spice from a svelte, black spice-kit.
It is very light.
>emote pulls out a piece of paper, then fills it with ~pinch, rolling it
The effeminate, pompadoured man pulls out a piece of paper, then fills it with your pinch of black, viscous spice, rolling it.
At your seat, the trim, amber-locked woman says in cavilish, shaking her head quietly:
"I've been very busy."
>make smoke booklet pinch
You carefully roll a pinch of spice with a booklet of rolling papers.
>talk (with a grin) So have I, love.
At your seat, you say in cavilish, with a grin:
"So have I, love."
>put booklet kit
You put a booklet of rolling papers inside a svelte, black spice-kit.
>i
You are carrying:
187 obsidian pieces
a solidly packed tube of spice
an irrig lamp
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"How many for the byn?"
You hear a woman's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Three."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"One moment."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Fifteen hundred and the names."
You hear a woman's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Akasha o' the T'zai Byn."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"I know your name, Lieutenant. I meant the other two."
You hear a woman's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"An' these two can title themselves."
You hear a woman's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"And why would we want to do that/"
You hear a woman's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Trooper Lyndra, sir."
You hear a woman's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Give 'em yer coin an' names, Byn."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Trooper Marook, Byn"
>give smoke fianna
You give a solidly packed tube of spice to the trim, amber-locked woman.
>take box kit
You get a small, leather-wrapped bone ember box from a svelte, black spice-kit.
It is very light.
The trim, amber-locked woman holds a solidly packed tube of spice.
>give box fianna
You give a small, leather-wrapped bone ember box to the trim, amber-locked woman.
>talk Light?
At your seat, you say in cavilish:
"Light?"
The trim, amber-locked woman lifts a small coal from her small, leather-wrapped bone ember box, blowing gently on it to incite it back to a sullen, orange glow.
The very tall figure in a dusty orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak is gone bathroom.
Bringing the coal to her smoke with the tongs, the trim, amber-locked woman puffs deeply, holding the smoke in her lungs as she hands the coal and box over to you.
The trim, amber-locked woman gives you a small, leather-wrapped bone ember box.
A thin trail of rich, heady smoke trickles from the trim, amber-locked woman's mouth as she smokes a solidly packed tube of spice.
The trim, amber-locked woman's eyes become glassy-red and half-closed.
>put box kit
You put a small, leather-wrapped bone ember box inside a svelte, black spice-kit.
>close kit
Ok.
>listen on
You are already listening.
>talk Do you have any Salarri's entering, love?
At your seat, you say in cavilish:
"Do you have any Salarri's entering, love?"
At your seat, the trim, amber-locked woman says in cavilish, shrugging lightly, her jaw still set in a hard expression:
"One. We're not here for pleasure."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Five hundred coins, please."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Yes please."
You hear a woman's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"We wait east until matches are announced?"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"I'll call your names, matches are not to the death and there will be a one thousand coin fine for unneeded killing."
You hear a woman's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Which was is into the pit?"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"You can wait in the stands and enjoy the matches. Someone will lead you down."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Next!"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"I'd like to register."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Five hundred and a name, please."
You hear a woman's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Thankee."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"I have you down."
>talk (nodding lightly, a tired expression about his face) You need to relax, love. Which one is yours?
At your seat, you say in cavilish, nodding lightly, a tired expression about his face:
"You need to relax, love. Which one is yours?"
At your seat, the trim, amber-locked woman says in cavilish, simply:
"The elf."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"I'd like to register a team and myself for the singles."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Wha' bout 'im?"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Fifteen hundred and the names then."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"You as well."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Grog of the Sun Legion and Altin of Nenyuk."
>l tall
Hard muscle straps over the stalwart form of this man, coiled visibly
beneath the deeply-bronzed covering of his skin. Thin, black dreadlocks
sprout from his scalp to his lower back, and while most are tied away from
his face with a thin braid of grey leather, a few hang into his narrowed,
crystalline-blue eyes. His features are chiseled and planar, with a craggy
brow, high, jutting cheekbones and a beaky nose that bears a slight hook at
its tip. A shadow of dark stubble traces the square line of his jaw,
defining its strong lines. Twined about the thick muscles of his neck is a
detailed tattoo of a serpent, done in simple black lines. The snake rests
in coils that band about the human's throat before climbing on the right
side to his cheek, where the head of the creature opens in a fanged display
of attack.
The tall figure in an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak is in excellent condition.
The tall figure in an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak is using:
<worn on head> a blackened horror-visaged helm
<worn on face> a carved, skull-shaped black onyx stud
<worn around neck> an orange-banded, grey chitin gorget
<worn across back> a black-hafted wooden spear
<worn on right shoulder> a black epaulette with one grey shield
<worn on left shoulder> a black epaulette with one grey shield
<worn on arms> a set of tentacle-branded grey leather sleeves
<worn around wrist> an orange-banded, grey chitin bracer
<worn around wrist> an orange-banded, grey chitin bracer
<worn on hands> a pair of spiked, chitin-backed gauntlets
<primary hand> a blackened basket-hilted rapier
<secondary hand> a blackened basket-hilted rapier
<worn around body> an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak
<worn on legs> a set of tentacle-branded grey leather leggings
<worn on feet> a pair of spike-toed, thigh-high leather boots
The athletic, serpent-tattooed man lowers the hood of an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak.
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Alright. I'll call your name when its time. Good luck."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Matches are not to the death, there is a one thousand coin fine on accidental death."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Thank you, Veric-da."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"YOu are the solo, correct?"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Aye, and a team with Grog."
Down in the pit the scarred, leathery woman opens the doors from the other side.
Down in the pit the tall, spindly man has arrived from the south.
Down in the pit the opaline, frost-haired half-elf has arrived from the south.
>l 2.tall
Her body is small but her movements graceful. Dark green eyes peer out
through ebony lashes, a slight tilt to their outer corners. Her skin is
soft and only lightly tanned, lips the deep color of crimson. Silken
midnight blue hair falls in soft waves to her knees, brushing over a slim
waist and gently curved hips. Pointed ears poke out from under the delicate
locks of hair.
The tall figure in an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak is in excellent condition.
The tall figure in an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak is using:
<worn on head> a thick, pale-green cap
<worn on face> a thin, obsidian nose ring
<worn in left ear> a spiral-carved moonstone earring
<worn in right ear> a purple and blue feather earring
<worn around neck> a gurth shell collar
<worn across back> a slender agafari longbow
<worn on right shoulder> a black epaulette with one grey shield
<worn on left shoulder> a black epaulette with one grey shield
<worn around wrist> a glossy, jet-colored shell bracer
<worn around wrist> a green chitin archery brace
<worn on hands> a bloodied pair of fingerless sandcloth gloves
<worn around body> an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak
<worn on legs> a pair of dark leather leggings
<worn on right ankle> a purple sandcloth bandana
<worn on left ankle> an onyx serpentine anklet
<worn on feet> a pair of knee-high fringed moccasins
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"What's the prize?"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Fourhundred of the coins from every beaten enemy and some nice gear from our crafters for the overall winners and best combatants."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Five hundred and your name, please."
Down in the pit Stepping over a few damp spots, the tall, spindly man moves to look up at the stands.
Down in the pit The tall, spindly man nods thoughtfully.
Down in the pit The opaline, frost-haired half-elf moves in softly behind the tall, spindly man, pulling up her cloak and the hem of her dress from the ground as she walks.
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Welcome Guests! "
Down in the pit The opaline, frost-haired half-elf quirks a faint hint of a grin.
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"While the combatants prepare, I would like to begin the Auction!"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"A few items of Kurac's finest!"
The trim, amber-locked woman's gaze flicks eastward.
With a lift of a signet-ringed hand, the trim, amber-locked woman brings her solidly packed tube of spice to her lips, inhaling deeply.
A thin trail of rich, heady smoke trickles from the trim, amber-locked woman's mouth as she smokes a solidly packed tube of spice.
The trim, amber-locked woman's eyes become glassy-red and half-closed.
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Do you wish to enter?"
You hear a woman's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"You the one I enter with?"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Yes."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Aye, I'd like to register"
Down in the pit The opaline, frost-haired half-elf nods her head and sets a bag down by the tall, spindly man.
Down in the pit the opaline, frost-haired half-elf drops a large bag.
Down in the pit the opaline, frost-haired half-elf walks south.
>talk (speaking softly) You don't seem to be enjoying yourself, love. Is there anything I can do?
At your seat, you say in cavilish, speaking softly:
"You don't seem to be enjoying yourself, love. Is there anything I can do?"
At your seat, the trim, amber-locked woman says in cavilish, her gaze sliding back to you, her hand betraying a faint shake, voice momentarily rough from the smoke:
"No. There's nothing that can be done."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"I need five hundred coins each and a name to call you by from the pits."
You hear a woman's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Darani"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Good luck. I'll call you when its time and there is a one thousand coin fine for accidental deaths."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Five hundred and your name>"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Cadet Issek"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Fighting for Salarr as well, correct?"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Aye, but solo"
The horribly thin young woman has arrived from the east.
The horribly thin young woman looks about hesistantly.
The horribly thin young woman strolls through the ample crowd over towards you.
>l horribly
You see a thin girl with curly, red hair that appears sparse from lack of
nutrition. Her eyes are inky black and seemingly hollow. Her body is
evenly Krath-tanned. Her nose is plain and small. Her lips are chapped and
curved. She has a round chin, dimpled cheeks, and a freckled face. The
rest of her frame is still that of a young girl.
The horribly thin young woman is in excellent condition.
The horribly thin young woman is using:
<worn on head> a wide-brimmed green and black hat
<worn in hair> a handful of mauve blossoms
<worn around neck> a crystal teardrop pendant
<worn across back> a colorful, glass-beaded shoulder bag
<worn around wrist> a sun and sword embroidered wrist wrap
<hands> a six-pronged star
<worn on left finger> a black marble ring
<worn on right finger> a garnet inlaid bone ring
<worn around body> a hooded, coal-black sandcloth dustcloak
<worn on legs> a svelte, black spice-kit
<worn on right ankle> a string of clay beads
<worn on feet> a pair of leather-thonged sandals
As she nods politely and handing over her sun and sword embroidered wrist wrap, the horribly thin young woman whispers to you in sirihish:
"A gift from the Kurac family."
The horribly thin young woman gives you a sun and sword embroidered wrist wrap.
>emote nods once towards ~horribly
The effeminate, pompadoured man nods once towards the horribly thin young woman.
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"I am offering now a complete set of the Famous Kuraci Desert Gear!"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Complete! Boots, leggings, jacket, gloves, sleeves, cap, collar, facewrap and Greatcloak!"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"The Very Finest made!"
The very tall figure in a dusty orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak's eyes widen, peering down towards the pit.
The horribly thin young woman strolls through the ample crowd over towards the trim, amber-locked woman.
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in cavilish:
"One hundred!"
>examine wrap
Undyed, beige sandcloth has been folded double to form this simple
wristwrap. The double folds have been sewn together, apart from an opening
on the inner side of the wrap, which functions as a pocket with two bone
buttons to close it. The front of the wrap is adorned by a simple picture
that has been printed upon the sandcloth using dye. The picture shows a
crimson circle symbolizing the red sun, crossed by a stylized sword printed
in black dye.
In a sun and sword embroidered wrist wrap (carried) :
nothing
The horribly thin young woman whispers something to the trim, amber-locked woman.
>value wrap
a sun and sword embroidered wrist wrap would seem to cost about 33 obsidian pieces.
a sun and sword embroidered wrist wrap would seem to weigh 2 stones.
This item appears to have been crafted by the Merchant House of Kurac.
The horribly thin young woman gets a sun and sword embroidered wrist wrap from an expansive, crimson-fist emblazoned backpack.
The horribly thin young woman gives a sun and sword embroidered wrist wrap to the trim, amber-locked woman.
As she stands, the horribly thin young woman says to the huge figure in an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak, in northern-accented sirihish:
"I am just passing out gifts on behalf of the Kurac family. It is nothing to be concerned with."
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"We will do this auction for only a few minutes!"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"No matches to the blood, aye?"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"To the blood yes, to the death, no."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Aye then, thanks - I'll wait my turn"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"All will be given quarter when asked."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"What beh deh bid?"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Please shout your name when you bid, we can't make out faces from down here."
At your seat, the trim, amber-locked woman says in cavilish, relaxing back onto her seat as she looks over her sun and sword embroidered wrist wrap:
"Two of them are fighting."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Anyone else?"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Hmm...my turn?"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Five hundred and a name, please."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Kune, of Kadius."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Good luck, I'll call you when its time."
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in cavilish:
"Jom! One hundred!"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"How much deh bid!?"
>open bag
Ok.
>put wrap bag
You put a sun and sword embroidered wrist wrap inside a black silk shoulder bag.
>close bag
Ok.
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Please make all bids in the common tongue!"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"One hundred? I sells for twenty times that! Give me more!"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Two!"
Looking up, the trim, amber-locked woman asks the huge figure in an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak, in cavilish:
"Will you be fighting?"
Clearing her throat, the trim, amber-locked woman asks the huge figure in an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak, in sirihish:
"Will you be fighting?"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Four, 'Cruit Gresh!"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Give me a name and FIVE!"
>shout Five hundred, Mister O!
You shout in sirihish:
"Five hundred, Mister O!"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"There is a one thousand coin fine for killing your opponent."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Aye....We will be directed when it is time?"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Yes."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Next!"
The wiry, war-braided young man has arrived from the east.
The wiry, war-braided young man inhales deeply through his nose as he makes his way around a few benches.
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Someone.... name and SEVEN?"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Six.. Jom!"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Seven?"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"800 kalm.... one large?"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Anyone else entering?"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Last call for registering for the matches!"
The wiry, war-braided young man sits down on a cloth-padded wooden bench.
>talk Should we bet?
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Should we bet?"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"One large for the Complete Set?"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Once..."
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Twice"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Nine.. Jom!"
The wiry, war-braided young man looks down at the trim, amber-locked woman briefly before turning his attention toward the pits.
The slender dark-eyed elf lowers the hood of an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak.
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Nine...."
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Once"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"twice"
At your seat, the trim, amber-locked woman says in sirihish, shrugging:
"We have no need for them. My house makes the best leathers, plates, chains, and we even make cloth armor as well."
>shout Thirteen Hundred, Oseres Kadius!
You shout in sirihish:
"Thirteen Hundred, Oseres Kadius!"
The horribly thin young woman walks over near the huge figure in an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak.
The horribly thin young woman gives a sun and sword embroidered wrist wrap to the huge figure in an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak.
The horribly thin young woman whispers something to the huge figure in an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak.
You overhear the huge figure in an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak whisper to the horribly thin young woman, grinning in sirihish:
"Uh. thanks"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Thirteen for Oseres Kadius! Very Good!"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Once!"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Twice"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Sold!"
>emote claps his hands together, grinning.
The effeminate, pompadoured man claps his hands together, grinning.
At your seat, the wiry, war-braided young man says in northern-accented sirihish, wiggling his brows alternately as he glances at you:
"Good job, Mr. O."
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"And an excellent deal, at that!"
The horribly thin young woman moves heading towards the athletic, serpent-tattooed man.
You overhear the horribly thin young woman whisper to the athletic, serpent-tattooed man, handing over her sun and sword embroidered wrist wrap in sirihish:
"A gift from the Kurac family."
The horribly thin young woman gives a sun and sword embroidered wrist wrap to the athletic, serpent-tattooed man.
Down in the pit the tall, spindly man picks up a large bag.
>l fianna's wrap
Crafted meticulously from a black-dyed silk, this piece of fabric wraps
around an inner lining of thin, supple leather and can be wrapped about the
wearer's arm or shin. The silk is woven with a thin, shimmering underlayer
of silken threads set in a complex pattern, and is layered so that it can
loosened or tightened to fit snugly by a pair of black ties. Upon close
inspection, a small flap of silk can be seen above an area with a small
amount of extra padding.
>talk (leaning in close to ~fianna) Fianna, love. Where'd you get that wristwrap? From one of my cousins?
At your seat, you say in sirihish, leaning in close to the trim, amber-locked woman:
"Fianna, love. Where'd you get that wristwrap? From one of my cousins?"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"I will bring your purchase to you, Oseres Kadius."
>shout I'll have more!
You shout in sirihish:
"I'll have more!"
Down in the pit the tall, spindly man walks south.
The horribly thin young woman wanders through the crowd.
The horribly thin young woman gives a sun and sword embroidered wrist wrap to the tall figure in an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak.
The horribly thin young woman gives a sun and sword embroidered wrist wrap to the very tall figure in a dusty orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak.
Taking the wrap, the tall figure in an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak glances towards the horribly thin young woman.
To the guards near the trim, amber-locked woman, the horribly thin young woman says, in northern-accented sirihish:
"A gift from the Kurac family."
The huge figure in an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak smiles and bobs his head once towards the horribly thin young woman.
The well-toned, blonde woman has arrived from the east.
Looking over the crowd, the well-toned, blonde woman makes her way towards the trim, amber-locked woman.
The well-toned, blonde woman sits down on a cloth-padded wooden bench.
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Regular Nogen and Trooper Marook, please come the center aisle!"
One of the wiry, war-braided young man's's legs bobs up and down rapidly, his thoughtful gaze locked onto nothing in particular.
The horribly thin young woman looks about the stands.
At your seat, the trim, amber-locked woman says in sirihish, arching a brow:
"I do not think your cousins could stitch such a wristsheathe. This is Salarri. I hope you didn't think we only made bulky, unattractive things."
>talk (shaking his head to ~fianna) Naw, love. Looks something I would wear. I like it.
At your seat, you say in sirihish, shaking his head to the trim, amber-locked woman:
"Naw, love. Looks something I would wear. I like it."
The dusky, jade-eyed man lowers the hood of a dusty orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak.
The trim, amber-locked woman stops using a silvery woven, black silk wrap.
The trim, amber-locked woman fastens a silvery woven, black silk wrap around her wrist.
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Where beh 'dis 'ere Marook?"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Trooper Marook here"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Gentlemen, please come with me."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Yeh's git yerself ah small 'ead."
The horribly thin young woman moves over near the well-toned, blonde woman.
The horribly thin young woman looks down at the well-toned, blonde woman as she approaches.
The horribly thin young woman whispers something to the well-toned, blonde woman.
The horribly thin young woman gives a sun and sword embroidered wrist wrap to the well-toned, blonde woman.
Her brows lifting, the well-toned, blonde woman looks over at the horribly thin young woman.
At your seat, the trim, amber-locked woman says in sirihish, retying the length of soft black leather and shimmering silk around her wrist with deft fingers:
"You don't want to know how much we sell them for."
The trim, amber-locked woman looks at you with a wan smile.
>talk (with a grin for ~fianna) Awe, love. How much?
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with a grin for the trim, amber-locked woman:
"Awe, love. How much?"
The horribly thin young woman moves from the isles, walking away.
The horribly thin young woman walks east.
The well-toned, blonde woman looks at her sun and sword embroidered wrist wrap carefully.
The slender dark-eyed elf raises the hood of an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak.
You hear a woman's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Have you see Merchant Danu?"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"he's alittle bit of everywhere"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Try the noble stands"
At your seat, the trim, amber-locked woman says in sirihish, smiling faintly at you:
"Two thousand for each one."
At your seat, the trim, amber-locked woman says in sirihish, wetting her lower lip:
"And that's with a discount."
The well-toned, blonde woman gurgles a broken chuckle.
The tall, spindly man has arrived from the east.
The aquiline, blond man has arrived from the east.
The tall, willowy woman has arrived from the east.
The tall, spindly man moves, smiling to approach you.
The tall, spindly man puts a pile of allanaki coins inside a pair of black sandcloth sleeves.
>tell danu (shaking his head) Danu, You should just get me after.
Shaking his head, you say to the tall, spindly man, in sirihish:
"Danu, You should just get me after."
The tall, spindly man nods politely to you.
The tall, spindly man says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"I will await your convenience, Oseres."
>tell danu (nodding) I'll probably be getting more, and we'll both have to go to the Nenyuk.
Nodding, you say to the tall, spindly man, in sirihish:
"I'll probably be getting more, and we'll both have to go to the Nenyuk."
The tall, spindly man dips his head politely to the trim, amber-locked woman, then turns to watch the match.>look
The Higher Tier Stands [E]
These are the western and more opulant stands of the fighting pit of
Luir's Outpost, whose black stone walls and strangely horned buildings are
visible to the east. While the walls of the pit below are built of stone,
the stands are wooden. Rows of benches fill...
Continue Reading...Luir's Outpost Auction & Arena Event [Part 2] by Mansa
Added on Nov 15, 2009In 2004, there was a Recommended Playing Time to play Armageddon, and the event was an Arena Game and Auction in Luir's Outpost. Agent Oseres Kadius, always a party whereever he goes, shows up for fun and to make some deals with House Kurac. This is a -long- log, and is rather raw, but it shows what sort of things happen during a busy event.
Down in the pit the slight, blonde-haired man has arrived from the south.
Down in the pit the whipcord thin man has arrived from the south.
Down in the pit the buxom, red-haired woman has arrived from the south.
Down in the pit The slight, blonde-haired man walks to the center of the pit.
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Ladies and gentlemen, it is my pleasure to announce the first of our pit matches!"
The huge figure in an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak flicks a look down into the pit, then raises his eyes again, glancing around quietly.
The dusky, jade-eyed man raises the hood of a dusty orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak.
The very tall figure in a dusty orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak looks down at the wiry, war-braided young man as he adjusts his hood.
The well-toned, blonde woman leans forwards noticably, her attention locked onto the pit.
The wiry, war-braided young man spares a brief glance to you before turning his attention toward the center of the pit.
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"On this side we have a man -undefeated- in all of his previous matches!"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Especially the ginka sauce matches!"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"The one! The only! Reeeegggullaaar Noooogggeeen!!"
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf has arrived from the south.
Down in the pit The slight, blonde-haired man nods a few times as dozens and dozens of dun clad soldiers hoot and hollar, cheering the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf on.
>talk (to ~fianna) You know I'll take it, love. I always buy what you have to offer.
At your seat, you say in sirihish, to the trim, amber-locked woman:
"You know I'll take it, love. I always buy what you have to offer."
At your seat, the trim, amber-locked woman says in sirihish, nodding toward you:
"Do you want a pair? Or just one?"
>talk (to ~fianna, his greenish-hued gaze shifting over towards the pit) If you lower the price, I'll take two.
At your seat, you say in sirihish, to the trim, amber-locked woman, his greenish-hued gaze shifting over towards the pit:
"If you lower the price, I'll take two."
At your seat, the trim, amber-locked woman says in sirihish, nodding toward you:
"I'll sell you two for thirty-five hundred."
Down in the pit The fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf trundles out into the fighting pit, raising his free arm up to the crowd as his other holds up his enormous shield.
>emote leans in close to ~fianna
The effeminate, pompadoured man leans in close to the trim, amber-locked woman.
>whi fianna (grinning) How about an exchange for something, other than coin, love?
Grinning, you whisper to the trim, amber-locked woman in sirihish:
"How about an exchange for something, other than coin, love?"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"'Dis beh ah dwarf tah dwarf match! Ain't gettin' better 'den 'dis 'ere!"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"And on this side, the scourge of the south! Women love him and men would love to be him! Trooper Marook!"
Down in the pit the small-headed, dark gray dwarf has arrived from the south.
Down in the pit The fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf reaches down beneath the folds of his dun-colored cloak, grasping the hilt of his obsidian blade.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf draws a dusty curved obsidian sword.
Down in the pit The small-headed, dark gray dwarf raises his maces over his head.
Down in the pit The slight, blonde-haired man looks between the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf and the small-headed, dark gray dwarf.
>emote breathes in slowly, leaning back to look towards the fighting pit.
The effeminate, pompadoured man breathes in slowly, leaning back to look towards the fighting pit.
The trim, amber-locked woman whispers to you in sirihish:
"Like what?"
>tell fianna (with a tired grin) After, love. After.
With a tired grin, you say to the trim, amber-locked woman, in sirihish:
"After, love. After."
The trim, amber-locked woman brushes her silvery woven, black silk wrap with her fingertips.
Down in the pit The small-headed, dark gray dwarf slowly circles left.
Down in the pit The slight, blonde-haired man raises his left hand high.
Down in the pit The fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf grunts with a nod as he crouches down behind his massive shield, twirling the sword at his side.
Down in the pit The slight, blonde-haired man steps back, dropping his left hand.
Down in the pit the slight, blonde-haired man walks south.
Down in the pit the whipcord thin man walks south.
Down in the pit the buxom, red-haired woman walks south.
>emote takes a double take, glancing to ~toned, before looking back towards the fighting pit.
The effeminate, pompadoured man takes a double take, glancing to the well-toned, blonde woman, before looking back towards the fighting pit.
The tall, spindly man moves to sit on a bench and lean over to watch the pit match.
Her fingers tapping on her leg incessantly, the well-toned, blonde woman watches the pit with her complete attention.
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Begin!"
The wiry, war-braided young man rests his forearms on the stone railing, hunching over as he watches the pit intently.
>listen on
You start trying to listen.
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Fer deh fists o' stone!"
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf swiftly dodges the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's bludgeons.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf parries the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's attack.
Down in the pit the small-headed, dark gray dwarf parries the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf's attack.
Down in the pit The small-headed, dark gray dwarf side steps and kicks.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf nimbly avoids the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's circle kick.
Down in the pit The fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf sneers as he rears his helmeted head back from the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's backhand, his cuff barely missing his face.
Down in the pit the small-headed, dark gray dwarf parries the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf's attack.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf parries the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's attack.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf swiftly dodges the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's bludgeons.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf parries the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's attack.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf parries the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's attack.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf slashes the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's body, connecting hard.
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"there ya go Noggen"
>contact veric
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the slight, blonde-haired man with the Way.
>psi Is this to first blood?
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the slight, blonde-haired man:
"Is this to first blood?"
Down in the pit The fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf grunts as he brings his obsidian blade over his head, slamming it down against the haft of the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's mace, then twists to give him another side slash.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf parries the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's attack.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf swiftly dodges the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's bludgeons.
Down in the pit the small-headed, dark gray dwarf tries to kick the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf in the chest, but he steps aside.
Down in the pit the small-headed, dark gray dwarf parries the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf's attack.
The well-toned, blonde woman lets out a low whistle.
The tall, spindly man shouts, in sirihish:
"Come on, Noggen!"
At your seat, the wiry, war-braided young man says in northern-accented sirihish, pressing his lips to one side in a slight purse:
"So how do we know if we're fighting for first blood or not?"
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf swiftly dodges the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's bludgeons.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf swiftly dodges the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's bludgeons.
Down in the pit The fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf squints as he brings up his shield defensively, knocking away the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's smash as it rings off his knobby-shelled shield.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf parries the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's attack.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf parries the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's attack.
Down in the pit The small-headed, dark gray dwarf slides right and swings a backhand as the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf passess.
>psi You're doing well, Veric my friend.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the slight, blonde-haired man:
"You're doing well, Veric my friend."
The tall, spindly man looks at the well-toned, blonde woman.
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Show 'em what Kurac's made of, Nogen!"
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The slight, blonde-haired man sends you a telepathic message:
"Until one yields."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
Down in the pit The fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf brings up his stumpy boot as the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's fist just misses him.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf's kick at the small-headed, dark gray dwarf is partially absorbed by his bracer.
Down in the pit the small-headed, dark gray dwarf doubles over in pain from the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf's powerful side kick.
Down in the pit the small-headed, dark gray dwarf parries the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf's attack.
Down in the pit the small-headed, dark gray dwarf tries to kick the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf in the chest, but he steps aside.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf parries the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's attack.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf swiftly dodges the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's bludgeons.
Down in the pit the small-headed, dark gray dwarf parries the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf's attack.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf parries the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's attack.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf swiftly dodges the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's bludgeons.
>psi Are all of them that way?
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the slight, blonde-haired man:
"Are all of them that way?"
>talk I think All of them are until first yield.
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"I think All of them are until first yield."
>cease
You dissolve the psychic link.
The well-toned, blonde woman chews on her lower lip.
At your seat, the wiry, war-braided young man says in northern-accented sirihish, slowly nodding as he watches the pit intently:
"I see.."
Down in the pit the small-headed, dark gray dwarf parries the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf's attack.
Down in the pit the small-headed, dark gray dwarf tries to kick the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf in the chest, but he steps aside.
Down in the pit the small-headed, dark gray dwarf parries the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf's attack.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf swiftly dodges the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's bludgeons.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf parries the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's attack.
Down in the pit The small-headed, dark gray dwarf charges forward, his shoulder lowered.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf evades the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's charge, who loses his balance and falls.
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"'Dis one 'ere, ain't no slouch!"
The tall, spindly man winces.
A thin trail of rich, heady smoke trickles from the trim, amber-locked woman's mouth as she smokes a solidly packed tube of spice.
The trim, amber-locked woman's eyes become glassy-red and half-closed.
Down in the pit The fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf brings up his boot at the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's stomach.
Down in the pit the small-headed, dark gray dwarf nimbly avoids the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf's circle kick.
Down in the pit The small-headed, dark gray dwarf rolls right and stand.
Down in the pit the small-headed, dark gray dwarf gets up and stands to his feet.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf parries the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's attack.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf swiftly dodges the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's bludgeons.
Down in the pit the small-headed, dark gray dwarf tries to kick the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf in the chest, but he steps aside.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf slashes the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's wrist, connecting hard.
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Someone goin ta be hurtin, and I don' think it goin ta be Nogen"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"That had to hurt!"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"A good shot."
Down in the pit The fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf twists his body as he brings his blade dodwn hard against the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's wrist.
Down in the pit the small-headed, dark gray dwarf parries the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf's attack.
Down in the pit the small-headed, dark gray dwarf tries to kick the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf in the chest, but he steps aside.
>shout Hurry up!
You shout in sirihish:
"Hurry up!"
The trim, amber-locked woman crushes the end of the smoke beneath the sole of her boot.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf parries the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's attack.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf parries the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's attack.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf viciously slashes the small-headed, dark gray dwarf on his wrist.
Down in the pit The fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf rushes forward at the small-headed, dark gray dwarf with his shield lowered, his boots kiocking up loose earth.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf swiftly dodges the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's bludgeons.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf swiftly dodges the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's bludgeons.
Down in the pit the small-headed, dark gray dwarf evades the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf's charge, who loses his balance and falls.
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Altin and Gargon, please come to the center aisle!"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"several"
You hear a woman's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Nice bet, Lutenant."
Down in the pit the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's attack on the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf is absorbed by a new enormous, concave tortoiseshell shield.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf swiftly dodges the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's bludgeons.
Down in the pit the small-headed, dark gray dwarf bludgeons the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf on his leg.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf swiftly dodges the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's bludgeons.
The wiry, war-braided young man's features contort into a mock grimace as he watches blood spew onto the sandy floor of the pit.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf nimbly avoids the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's circle kick.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf parries the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's attack.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf swiftly dodges the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's bludgeons.
Down in the pit the small-headed, dark gray dwarf parries the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf's attack.
Down in the pit The fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf grunts as the small-headed, dark gray dwarf slams his mace into his leg as he falls, turning to rise to his feet at the last instant.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf gets up and stands to his feet.
At your seat, the trim, amber-locked woman says in sirihish, her voice slightly harshened:
"Is this to the death?"
The tall figure in an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak walks east.
At your seat, the well-toned, blonde woman says in northern-accented sirihish, shaking her head:
"None of em are I think"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"ALtin and the little giant, rather!"
>talk (nodding, his attention on the fighting pit) There's a thousand coin fine, if one dies.
At your seat, you say in sirihish, nodding, his attention on the fighting pit:
"There's a thousand coin fine, if one dies."
The trim, amber-locked woman nods.
Down in the pit the small-headed, dark gray dwarf tries to kick the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf in the chest, but he steps aside.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf parries the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's attack.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf swiftly dodges the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's bludgeons.
Down in the pit The fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf leans to one side, favoring one foot before bringing up his wavering leg.
Down in the pit The small-headed, dark gray dwarf moves in closer.
Down in the pit the small-headed, dark gray dwarf tries to kick the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf in the chest, but he steps aside.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf's kick at the small-headed, dark gray dwarf is absorbed by his leggings.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf parries the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's attack.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf parries the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's attack.
Down in the pit the small-headed, dark gray dwarf parries the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf's attack.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf parries the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's attack.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf swiftly dodges the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's bludgeons.
Down in the pit the small-headed, dark gray dwarf attempts to disarm the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf, but finds his attack reversed!
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf knocks a obsidian-spiked mace from the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's hands and sends it flying west.
A mace comes flying in, landing with a tud.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf swiftly dodges the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's bludgeons.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf parries the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's attack.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf knocks a studded, short-handled mace from the small-headed, dark gray dwarf's hands.
Down in the pit the small-headed, dark gray dwarf panics, and attempts to flee.
Down in the pit the small-headed, dark gray dwarf tries to flee, but is too exhausted!
Down in the pit the small-headed, dark gray dwarf panics, and attempts to flee.
Down in the pit the small-headed, dark gray dwarf tries to flee, but is too exhausted!
Down in the pit the small-headed, dark gray dwarf panics, and attempts to flee.
Down in the pit the small-headed, dark gray dwarf runs south.
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Well done, Nogen!"
The tall, spindly man shouts, in sirihish:
"Kurac"
>rem whistle
You stop using a small, wooden whistle.
>hold whistle
You hold the whistle.
>emote blows loudly on ~whistle, producing a loud, shrill sound.
The effeminate, pompadoured man blows loudly on your small, wooden whistle, producing a loud, shrill sound.
The well-toned, blonde woman purses her lips.
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Hurrah fer Nogen and Kurac!"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Woaa!"
Down in the pit The fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf raises both his arms up as the crowd begins to cheer wildly, the two maces lying forgotten on both ends of the arena floor.
The tall, spindly man pushes off of a cloth-padded wooden bench and rises to his feet.
The tall, spindly man walks east.
The aquiline, blond man walks east.
The tall, willowy woman walks east.
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Any objections to you two matching up next?"
>look
The Higher Tier Stands [E]
These are the western and more opulant stands of the fighting pit of
Luir's Outpost, whose black stone walls and strangely horned buildings are
visible to the east. While the walls of the pit below are built of stone,
the stands are wooden. Rows of benches fill the lower section of this area
of the stands, with cleared areas for hawkers and those taking and making
bets. A gracefully canopied section against the uppermost row of the stands
has properly cushioned chairs and is obviously set apart for those of some
standing.
A terrace staircase opens up to the east and leads out of the seating
area and the view below is of the red-stained sands of the fighting pit
itself.
A shadow falls over the area, driving off the uncomfortable heat.
A obsidian-spiked bone mace lies here.
A couple of cloth-padded wooden benches are here.
The well-toned, blonde woman is sitting on a cloth-padded wooden bench.
The wiry, war-braided young man is sitting on a cloth-padded wooden bench.
The huge figure in an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak stands near the amber-locked woman.
The athletic, serpent-tattooed man stands watchfully here, his arms crossed.
The trim, amber-locked woman sits on a bench stiffly.
The tall figure in an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak stands near the amber-locked woman.
The very tall figure in a dusty orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak is standing behind the trim, amber-locked woman.
The wiry, war-braided young man grunts softly as he glances down at a obsidian-spiked mace.
>say (shaking his head) Shit.
Shaking his head, you say, in sirihish:
"Shit."
You hear a woman's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Are you fighting?"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"He beh puttin up ah good fight, buh ah git deh bigger head!"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Who'm I fighting?"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Your man was lucky with that last move.. A fine showing regardless."
The tall figure in an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak stops guarding the trim, amber-locked woman.
The tall figure in an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak begins guarding the trim, amber-locked woman.
The wiry, war-braided young man begins applauding quietly, its noise quickly lost in the bustling atomosphere around him.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf sheathes a dusty curved obsidian sword.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf picks up a studded, short-handled mace.
Down in the pit the fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf walks south.
>tell kune (pointing over towards ~mace) Kune? Be a dear and pick that up?
Pointing over towards a obsidian-spiked mace, you ask the wiry, war-braided young man, in sirihish:
"Kune? Be a dear and pick that up?"
The wiry, war-braided young man nods simply.
The wiry, war-braided young man pushes off of a cloth-padded wooden bench and rises to his feet.
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"If you two spar regularly then I will rematch, otherwise it is you two."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"I have faith in him"
The wiry, war-braided young man picks up a obsidian-spiked mace.
>rem whistle
You stop using a small, wooden whistle.
>wear whistle about throat
You tilt your head forward and fasten a small, wooden whistle about your throat.
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Aye, suppose we can have the final right away."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Is it too late ta.. y'know, enter?"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Appreciate it"
The wiry, war-braided young man makes his way back toward a cloth-padded wooden bench, offering his obsidian-spiked mace to you.
The wiry, war-braided young man sits down on a cloth-padded wooden bench.
Frowning as the mace soars into the room, the trim, amber-locked woman asks, in sirihish:
"Are they -insane-, tossing weapons about?"
The hearty, thin-lipped man has arrived from the east.
The hearty, thin-lipped man grins.
The hearty, thin-lipped man asks, in sirihish:
"Who grabbed the mace?"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"No, I will put you in if there is time."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Aye...First teh disengage from combat eh?"
You hear a woman's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"I heard you swing a might blade?"
>l hearty
This muscular human's body is well-muscled, hours of training evidenced
in the bulging muscles of his arms and legs and neck. Skin burned dark by
Suk-Krath's unforgiving rays wraps his form in a coppery coating, marred and
broken by numerous scars, some faded while others appear more recent. Hard,
emotionless eyes are set beneath thin dark eyebrows and his lips are so
narrow that they are barely more than a darker line of color against the
copper-hue of his face.
The hearty, thin-lipped man is in excellent condition.
The hearty, thin-lipped man is using:
<worn on arms> a pair of grey sandcloth sleeves
<worn on hands> a pair of thick grey leather gloves
<primary hand> a bone bastard sword
<secondary hand> a bone longsword
<worn around body> a hooded, dun-colored dustcloak
<worn on legs> a pair of dark grey sandcloth trousers
<worn on feet> a pair of knee-high grey leather boots
The hearty, thin-lipped man says, in sirihish:
"That needs ta go back to the contestant."
The wiry, war-braided young man raises his obsidian-spiked mace as he glances toward the hearty, thin-lipped man.
The hearty, thin-lipped man nods.
The flint-eyed, jasper-haired man has arrived from the east, striding along smoothly.
The flint-eyed, jasper-haired man looks around briefly, then grunts.
To himself, the flint-eyed, jasper-haired man says, in northern-accented bendune:
"Shit, missed him again."
The hearty, thin-lipped man walks east.
The hearty, thin-lipped man says, in sirihish:
"Gotta love a good pit fight"
The hearty, thin-lipped man grins.
The hearty, thin-lipped man says, in sirihish:
"I'll return his wepaon to him"
The wiry, war-braided young man looks up at the hearty, thin-lipped man with a faint nod as he extends his obsidian-spiked mace.
The hearty, thin-lipped man holds out a hand to the wiry, war-braided young man.
The wiry, war-braided young man gives a obsidian-spiked mace to the hearty, thin-lipped man.
The flint-eyed, jasper-haired man turns to leave.
Striding along smoothly, the flint-eyed, jasper-haired man walks east.
Down in the pit the tall, spindly man has arrived from the south.
Down in the pit The tall, spindly man looks quickly around at the stands.
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Next item.... a complete set of Kurac's "
>shout I already have that!
You shout in sirihish:
"I already have that!"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Tembo-Mesh Armor!"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Jom! One hundred!"
With her full lips pressed together, the trim, amber-locked woman leans back into her seat, stroking her silvery woven, black silk wrap.
The huge figure in an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak grins briefly, refocusing his expression as he glances about.
The stout, grey-bearded man has arrived from the east.
The hunched, red-skinned mul has arrived from the east.
>talk (to ~kune, with a tired grin) How much did yours go for?
At your seat, you say in sirihish, to the wiry, war-braided young man, with a tired grin:
"How much did yours go for?"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Jom. Three."
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Six pieces.... pus a fine matching cloak!"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"name five?!"
At your seat, the well-toned, blonde woman says in northern-accented sirihish, thoughtfully as she taps her knee:
"Tembo Mesh eh?"
The trim, amber-locked woman looks up at the wiry, war-braided young man with a sidelong flick of her jewel-hard eyes.
The wiry, war-braided young man looks up at the stout, grey-bearded man with a brief glance.
The stout, grey-bearded man looks around quietly.
At your seat, the wiry, war-braided young man says in northern-accented sirihish, in a simple tone as he runs his fingers along his dusty mesh-covered, tembo-hide gorget:
"I got this and my leggings for six fifty I think.."
The tall figure in an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak has arrived from the east.
The tall figure in an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak wanders back over to the trim, amber-locked woman's side.
Dipping into a lavish bow, then offering a stiff salute the tall figure in an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak strides to the trim, amber-locked woman side ripping down his hood.
>talk (with a smirk towards ~kune) And, you're not bidding?
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with a smirk towards the wiry, war-braided young man:
"And, you're not bidding?"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Gresh at four!"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Five Jom."
The stout, grey-bearded man walks east.
The hunched, red-skinned mul walks east.
The trim, amber-locked woman looks up and nods as the cloaked figures move back in to her.
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Fine show Noggen"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Jom Five! Give me seven!"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Tank yeh."
At your seat, the wiry, war-braided young man says in northern-accented sirihish, in a simple, lucid tone as he turns his attention back toward the pits:
"I have everything I need."
The cruel-eyed, flaxen-tressed man lowers the hood of an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak.
The cruel-eyed, flaxen-tressed man begins guarding the trim, amber-locked woman.
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Five.... going once!"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Ah beh needed back down."
>shout Six! Mister O!
You shout in sirihish:
"Six! Mister O!"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Seven, Jom."
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Once on seven!"
With a faint smile, the trim, amber-locked woman says to the cruel-eyed, flaxen-tressed man, in sirihish:
"Hello, sergeant. Glad you could make it."
>shout Seven-fifty, Mister O!
You shout in sirihish:
"Seven-fifty, Mister O!"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Once of Seven-fifty for Mister O!"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Eight, Jom"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Twice"
The well-toned, blonde woman looks up at the cruel-eyed, flaxen-tressed man with a twist of her head.
>shout Nine! Mister O!
You shout in sirihish:
"Nine! Mister O!"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Nine-fifty, Jom."
>emote grins, watching towards the fighting pit.
The effeminate, pompadoured man grins, watching towards the fighting pit.
The very tall figure in a dusty orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak looks down at the cruel-eyed, flaxen-tressed man.
With a beaming grin, the well-toned, blonde woman says to the cruel-eyed, flaxen-tressed man, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Congratulations Sargeant"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"I have sold this same set to some of you for two large..... give me one large!"
>shout One thousand!
You shout in sirihish:
"One thousand!"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"One large for the mystery man!"
Gesturing to the cruel-eyed, flaxen-tressed man, the trim, amber-locked woman says to the well-toned, blonde woman, in sirihish:
"Sergeant Darani, Captain Kella has promoted Sergeant Cord. He'll be replacing Sergeant Ferathule when he leaves."
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"One and one, Jom."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Wha' do ya' think, should I give a crack at tha', Sir?"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"eleven for Jom... Once!"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Twice!"
>talk (grinning) I should really stop.
At your seat, you say in sirihish, grinning:
"I should really stop."
With a dip of his head, the cruel-eyed, flaxen-tressed man says to the well-toned, blonde woman, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Thank you Sargeant."
At your seat, the well-toned, blonde woman says in northern-accented sirihish, nodding her head to the trim, amber-locked woman:
"Good, where is Fer goin?"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Might be too late, you should speak with Veric-da immediately"
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Sold to Jom"
>talk What a deal.
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"What a deal."
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"One and one, Jom.... congratulations."
Down in the pit the tall, spindly man walks south.
The cruel-eyed, flaxen-tressed man dips his head to the huge figure in an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak turning back to surveying the surroundings.
The slender dark-eyed elf lowers the hood of an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak.
>l cruel
A set of sinister, shooting, cobalt eyes perch above a hooked nose. Longand well-kempt ivory hued hair settles about his head, neat and maintained,while sideburns dissipate as they near his clean-shaven jaw line. Richebony skin fills in the remaining hues of color about his face, excludingthe single depression that rests in the middle of his chin remains ivorycolored. Noticeably powerful shoulders are woven into the frame of thisman, while thick beefy arms drape down from them. Connected to the arms arelarge calloused hands with neatly trimmed fingernails at each fingertip. Achiseled, barrel chest rides atop a flat toned stomach, while below thatrests his proportionate hips. Two legs, like small trunks, hold this man aloft obviously powerful in nature.
The cruel-eyed, flaxen-tressed man is in excellent condition.
The cruel-eyed, flaxen-tressed man is using:
<worn on head> a stained spiky helmet
<worn around neck> a spiked duskhorn collar
<worn on right shoulder> a black epaulette with two grey shields
<worn on left shoulder> a black epaulette with two grey shields
<worn on arms> a set of spiky arm guards
<worn around wrist> a polished duskhorn bracer
<worn around wrist> a gurth shell bracer
<worn around body> an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak
<worn on legs> a set of spiky leg guards
<worn on feet> a pair of spiky boots
You hear a woman's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"I can fight you Pendeh."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"You.. fight me?"
You hear a woman's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"Do you think I can take him?"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
"possibly"Down in the pit the slight, blonde-haired man has arrived from the south.
Down in the pit the whipcord thin man has arrived from the south.
Down in the pit the buxom, red-haired woman has arrived from the south.
Down in the pit The slight, blonde-haired man walks to the center of the pit.
You hear a...
Continue Reading...The Grey Hunt - Part 2 by Adhira
Added on Nov 15, 2009Precentor Rysha announces the winner of the Grey Hunt - with an unexpected conclusion.
Scene: The Silverwood Estate.
Event: Announcement of the Grey Hunt winner.
Note: Since this was logged by staff thinks and feels which are normally only viewable by the character in question have been left in.
<! As seen by High Precentor Rysha Uaptal>
Whistling lowly, the curvy, jallal-tressed maiden looks up at the short-haired, jade-eyed Lirathan templar.
Nodding deeply to the short-haired, jade-eyed Lirathan templar, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar says, in northern-accented sirihish:
"And High Precentor Rysha Uaptal, show them the same attention you have kindly showed to me."
The trim, ashen-skinned man leans back against a long wooden bench and sits up little straighter.
The svelte, top-knotted woman dips her head respectfully to the group approaching the stage.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman's posture straightens, watching the pearl-haired Lirathan templar and the short-haired, jade-eyed Lirathan templar with a respectful, deep inclination of her head.
Bowing his head low as he turns his attention, the stocky, clean-shaven man looks up at the short-haired, jade-eyed Lirathan templar.
The freckled, light-skinned man clears his throat and lowers his head, bending at the waist slightly as well.
The very short and thick male wearing a bloodied runic, fire-scorched mask twitches slightly then looks over and seems to relax.
With a deep bow of her head, the short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales looks up at the short-haired, jade-eyed Lirathan templar.
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden bows her head completely, but still claps wholeheartedly.
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"Rysha Uaptal... why did I think the High Precentor was Faithful Lady Fyloria?"
The trim, ashen-skinned man thinks:
"Oh fuck."
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar lifts her hands for silence, tilting her head gracefully to the newly-entered group.
Someone thinks:
"I... am in the presence of a High Precentor Faithful Lord. I am truly blessed by the Light."
His eyes focusing keenly, the swarthy, aging man looks up at you.
The dusky, sorrel-curled woman thinks:
"Don't look at them! Just sit in their ...fucking serious presence."
The spangled-blond, muscular woman sucks in a gasp, and deeply bows her head.
The short-haired, jade-eyed Lirathan templar clasps her hands before her, standing in front of the small stage.
Someone thinks:
"Eh, I gotta keep better track of this stuff. Could mis-address someone and end up in a real uncomfortable situation."
Short, straight black hair hangs down around this woman's face and falls
around her cheekbones. Her eyes are a rich jade color, round and wide
in shape. She is very taut in stature, with long limbs and delicate
hands and features.
The short-haired, jade-eyed Lirathan templar is in excellent condition.
<neck> a blue and purple inked band
<worn across back> a glossy-grey knapsack
<worn around wrist> a whitened bone key
<left wrist> a silver moon
<worn on hands> a pair of red silk gloves
<worn around body> a hooded, white and gold-trimmed templar's robe
<worn on legs> a pair of white-trimmed, red sandcloth pants
<worn on feet> a pair of soft, white silk boots
The trim, ashen-skinned man swallows then lowers his head once more to the arriving group of templars with a slight tilt at the waist.
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden thinks:
"High Precentor! What an honor, y'know?"
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man eats his small portion of a thick sausage and cheese sandwich.
The freckled, light-skinned man keeps his gaze lowered, staring directly at a long, white painted table.
Retaking her seat, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar sits at a long, white painted table.
With curiously wrinkled brows, head inclining ever so faintly, hesitant, the scruffy, brown-haired youth looks up at you.
The pearl-haired Lirathan templar glances around the crowd, returning a few nods lightly.
With a deep, respectful bow of her head, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette looks up at you.
The short, dusky woman seems still out of shock for a while, among the crowd, then mimics those around her in showing respects toward the templars.
Dipping off in a nod, the spindly, grey-haired man looks up at you.
<< The stocky, clean-shaven man feels really, really, really fucking nervous. >>
<< Someone feels curious indeed. >>
The willowy, brown-haired young man clears his throat and leans forward, his elbows on his knees.
Unclasping it and letting sweat-tangled hair fall to her shoulders, the ethereal, fair-haired woman stops using her black and red fringed headdress.
<< Someone feels gleeful. >>
Someone thinks:
"How many of my brothers and sisters would love to be able to see this?"
The spindly, grey-haired man looks up at the pearl-haired Lirathan templar.
Tossing her head, her black hair cascading back over her shoulders, you say, in sirihish:
"Citizens of Tuluk... Guests... we come now to the announcement of the Hunt."
Dusting the last few crumbs from his hands, the lofty, cunyati-tanned man bows very deeply, to the point of essentially kneeling along with many others in the crowd.
<< The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar feels a bolt of excitement in your breast. >>
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden thinks:
"I don't even know who all entered!"
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"The Hunt?"
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar smiles proudly to the ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar.
The very short and thick male wearing a bloodied runic, fire-scorched mask perks up.
At a long wooden bench, the willowy, brown-haired young man speaks, nodding to the short, lithe young man.
Someone thinks:
"Here we go."
<< Someone feels keen, interested excitement. >>
<< The ethereal, fair-haired woman feels dazed. Utterly and completely dazed. >>
The very short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales thinks:
"Rokov. It's gotta be Rokov."
The shaggy-haired, sun-branded man gives his spiced steak to the freckled, light-skinned man.
As the crowd falls silent, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar fastens her attention on the stage.
As surreptitiously as he can, the freckled, light-skinned man begins to chew on his baguette of brown bread.
Smearing her spindly hands together the svelte, top-knotted woman casts a glance to the freckled, light-skinned man and then back at the stage.
Dipping her head in the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar direction, you say, in sirihish:
"Faithful Lady Serilla. Join me."
The dusky, sorrel-curled woman thinks:
"Not Rokov. Not Rokov."
The spangled-blond, muscular woman thinks:
"She's using the lack of decoration to good effect. It looks dignified on her, rather than plain."
The freckled, light-skinned man eats a portion of his baguette of brown bread.
The tiny, reed-like Jihaen templar folds his arms over his chest, staring at the crowd with a somber stoicism that is in direct contrast to his appearance.
Lifting her brows with a gracious nod to you, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar stands up from a long, white painted table.
The willowy, brown-haired young man nods slowly to you, quickly straightening his posture and gazing forward fixedly.
The tall, muscular man watches quietly, one corner of his mouth quirking in a faint smile.
The freckled, light-skinned man eats a portion of his half eaten baguette of brown bread.
Someone thinks:
"Fuck me."
Sliding off his shoulder before easing back down, the trim, ashen-skinned man stops using his dusty steel grey duffel bag.
<< Someone feels dazed, dull shock. >>
Her hands clasped behind her back, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar steps down the slope to join you, standing back a pace quietly.
The stocky, clean-shaven man thinks:
"There's no second place. At least this won't drag on."
Plopping, the trim, ashen-skinned man sits on a long wooden bench.
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"You're in trouble"
The dusky, sorrel-curled woman thinks:
"......"
The freckled, light-skinned man thinks:
"I never thought I would ever see them."
The freckled, light-skinned man thinks:
"The High Precentor?"
Dipping her head towards her, you say to the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar, in sirihish:
"We thank you for the festival you have provided his citizens. As primary recorder for this Hunt we ask that you call each entrant to stand before us."
Nibbling quickly, masked gaze fixed on the stage, the very short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales eats her half eaten ball of soft white cheese.
The tall, muscular man's eyes shift to you as she speaks.
The willowy, grey-streaked man nods over to the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette.
Handing over, the trim, ashen-skinned man gives his dusty steel grey duffel bag to the very short and thick male wearing a bloodied runic, fire-scorched mask.
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden thinks:
"Where's Valin?"
The trim, ashen-skinned man tips a nod to the very short and thick male wearing a bloodied runic, fire-scorched mask in a slow manner.
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden begins looking around uncomfortably, her eyes searching the crowd.
The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar remains stading amidst the crowd by a long, white painted table, his reserved and reverant gaze set on the stage.
Nodding deeply to you as she steps forward, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar says, in sirihish:
"In order of recording."
<< Someone feels nervous. >>
Voice lowering, the short, dusky woman whispers something to the sinewy, bald-headed man.
The spangled-blond, muscular woman looks down at the tall, muscular man.
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"Thought she meant just leave her alone... obviously not."
The chubby, brown-haired man glances to the stocky, clean-shaven man.
Someone thinks:
"Keep quiet, you shit, or you'll get a beating."
<< The trim, ashen-skinned man feels humbled, hopeful. >>
The sinewy, weather-worn man's head turns in causual survey of the crowd, a faint grin on his lips.
Someone thinks:
"Bad fucking timing GO AWAY, woman!"
<< The ethereal, fair-haired woman feels a touch of sympathy for Vash. >>
Shaking his head, as he speaks quietly, the sinewy, bald-headed man whispers something to the short, dusky woman.
Her voice ringing out, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar says, in sirihish:
"Vejaan A'jinn of the A'jinn Academy."
The trim, ashen-skinned man thinks:
"Just keep it together, keep Aja in yer thoughts, she trained ya some 'fore all this happened."
The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar looks down at the tall, muscular man .
The ebon-haired, ruby-eyed man steps forward proudly, moving over near the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar.
The ebon-haired, ruby-eyed man stands up from a long wooden bench.
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden thinks:
"Hasn't his family won before?"
The short, dusky woman whispers something to the sinewy, bald-headed man .
Curiously, the spindly, grey-haired man looks up at the ebon-haired, ruby-eyed man .
Inclining her head to the ebon-haired, ruby-eyed man, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar says, in sirihish:
"Master Bard Adarana Irofel."
The stocky, clean-shaven man thinks:
"Vejaan's a serious contender. Can't discount him. ALL of these people are potentially going to be pissed at me if I win this."
Someone thinks:
"Huh. Was wonderin' who that guy was."
The shaggy-haired, sun-branded man thinks:
"Ahhh, Aja... will that be the one?"
The spangled-blond, muscular woman looks down at the tall, muscular man.
The sinewy, weather-worn man thinks:
"All this hubub just ta get t'the announcement? Krath, Kurac could do it better."
The short-haired, jade-eyed Lirathan templar keeps her hands clasped before her, watching each contestant as they approach.
Hesitantly, the sinewy, bald-headed man whispers something to the short, dusky woman.
Someone thinks:
"Grey hunt? I really ought to listen more closely to what's happening."
An amethyst-eyed, golden-haired woman has arrived from the east, hurrying in.
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden thinks:
"Good grief! I should have at least entered, with a list of names like that."
The trim, ashen-skinned man licks his lips quietly as he watches the quiet procession.
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar smiles to an amethyst-eyed, golden-haired woman, inclining her head.
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar says, in sirihish:
"Advisor Rokov Kurac."
The ebon-haired, ruby-eyed man remains silent and proud, standing with his hands clasped behind his back.
The svelte, top-knotted woman's brow raises in surprise.
The tall, muscular man's eyes move along the entrants as their names are called out.
The short, dusky woman whispers something to the sinewy, bald-headed man .
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden thinks:
"Oh, like he needs to win anything!"
The stocky, clean-shaven man takes a breath and makes his way down the aisle, approaching the stage.
An amethyst-eyed, golden-haired woman takes her place beside the ebon-haired, ruby-eyed man with a sheepish, nervous smile.
The swarthy, aging man, gives the stocky, clean-shaven man a quick pat, grinning.
The spangled-blond, muscular woman looks up at the ebon-haired, ruby-eyed man.
The sinewy, bald-headed man whispers something to the short, dusky woman .
The very short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales shoots a smile at the stocky, clean-shaven man, tipping an encouraging nod.
At a long wooden bench, the chubby, brown-haired man speaks, chuckling after.
Someone thinks:
"Losing is... so difficult. I have trained my entire life. My tribe has given me strength, wisdom, fortitude. But all these things mean nothing to you."
The stout, heavily-scarred dwarf grins up at the stocky, clean-shaven man , clapping briefly.
<< Someone feels like you are trying to calm your nerves. >>
The short, dusky woman nods once at the sinewy, bald-headed man , straightening the lapels of her sleek, crimson leather duster.
Quietly grabbing his arm, the sinewy, bald-headed man whispers something to the scruffy, brown-haired youth.
Face set in a serious expression, the stocky, clean-shaven man bows his head deeply to the Faithful and moves to stand beside an amethyst-eyed, golden-haired woman.
The spindly, grey-haired man looks up at an amethyst-eyed, golden-haired woman.
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"Advisor? What kind of a title is that for a hunter..."
You feel a growing sense of anticipation.
The scruffy, brown-haired youth nods softly, swallowing hard.
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"Ah well..."
The pockmarked, well-toned man looks up at the stocky, clean-shaven man .
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"You know, there are so many people here..."
The swarthy, aging man chuckles at the chubby, brown-haired man .
The grey-haired, fiery-eyed woman smiles fondly at the ebon-haired, ruby-eyed man from her seat on the bench.
A thin trail of rich, heady smoke trickles from the chubby, brown-haired man 's mouth as he smokes a naked harlot spice pipe.
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"If they were to just all drop dead and freeze in time, I'd learn more now than most people in a lifetime."
After a beat, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar says, in sirihish:
"Recruit Valin of the Sun Legions."
Someone thinks:
"It's tough to read the Chosen Lady though..."
Someone thinks:
"Valin? Seriously?"
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden thinks:
"He's not here, stupid, I don't know where he went..."
The willowy, brown-haired young man thinks:
"I have no idea how she'll take to my... hobby."
Someone thinks:
"Now wouldn' be the best time ta attack. Not with everyone's attention fixed."
The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar thinks:
"Private Valin."
The short-haired, jade-eyed Lirathan templar tilts her head, gaze shifting over the curvy, jallal-tressed maiden .
The scruffy, brown-haired youth's jaw flexes and relaxes, his youthful features tense though he attempts the faintest of smiles to offset, gentle brown hues locked upon the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar as they speak.
<< The shaggy-haired, sun-branded man feels a sense of resignation. >>
The shaggy-haired, sun-branded man thinks:
"So, ka. If that be my life in His service, then so be it. But know that my heart aches for your smile."
The caramel, alabaster-haired woman stands up from a long wooden bench.
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden clears her throat softly, her eyes unmoving from the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar .
Her tone formal, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar says, in sirihish:
"Thiza of the Al'Seik."
The caramel, alabaster-haired woman walks east.
The pearl-haired Lirathan templar glances over at the sinewy, weather-worn man for a long moment.
Hopping to her feet quickly, the dusky, sorrel-curled woman stands up from a long wooden bench.
The dusky, sorrel-curled woman's head inclines deeply as she walks along, falling in line.
The stocky, clean-shaven man thinks:
"So that's who she is."
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar says, in sirihish:
"Ani and Zharal of the Tan Muark."
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden thinks:
"Stupid, stupid man. We could have won. I could own this place. And renovate it. And make it beautiful. And me beautiful. And have Hlum babies. Beautiful ones. But stupid skips out on us."
<< The stocky, clean-shaven man feels shock. >>
The sinewy, weather-worn man meets the pearl-haired Lirathan templar's gaze for a moment before his attention drifts back through the gathering.
<< The trim, ashen-skinned man feels nervous as Drov. >>
Someone thinks:
"I guess Thiza's pretty nice. Wouldn't be too disappointed if she won it..."
Her face registering clear surprise, then a respectful nod given, as she steps forward, the short, dusky woman says, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Just.. Ani, Faithful Lady. But I will stand for her as she is not here."
<< Someone feels claustrophobia easing in as the crowd tenses. >>
With a milld nod to the short, dusky woman, the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar says, in sirihish:
"Those are the completed entries recorded officially in the books of our Order."
<< The sinewy, weather-worn man feels a sudden sense of dread. >>
The sinewy, weather-worn man thinks:
"Krath, that was just brilliant."
The scruffy, brown-haired youth curls his lips inward, hesitantly taking a half-step forward beside the short, dusky woman before he controls himself, remaining silent beside the sinewy, bald-headed man .
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar says, in sirihish:
"I believe Vash of Salarr has completed the second task, as well."
Her expression gone completely stiff, the short, dusky woman just nods, managing another more polite one as she steps up onto the stage.
Uncertainly, after a moment's pause, the trim, ashen-skinned man stands up from a long wooden bench.
Her shoulders completely tense, the short, dusky woman whispers something to the stocky, clean-shaven man .
The trim, ashen-skinned man makes his way slowly, humbly, through the crowd to stand by the short, dusky woman, giving the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar and the others a slow, polite nod.
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar inclines her head to the row of entrants, turning back to you.
With a benevolent smile, you say to the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar, in sirihish:
"Thankyou Faithful Lady."
The dusky, sorrel-curled woman's eyebrows rise over her pair of dark-lensed sunslits then immediately drop.
With a smile, the svelte, top-knotted woman looks up at the dusky, sorrel-curled woman.
<< The trim, ashen-skinned man feels nervous as all get out. >>
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"Oh, it'd be pretty wine if Vash won too, I guess."
The stocky, clean-shaven man drops a fraction of a nod as he stands stiff, eyes ahead.
Taking a step away from the stage, motioning to the space on the grass before her, you say, in sirihish:
"As I call you, please step towards me."
Someone thinks:
"PLEASE be Rokov-da or Thiza. They should've chosen one or the other...I hope."
The very short and thick male wearing a bloodied runic, fire-scorched mask leans over his new dusty tortoiseshell and black-leather shield watching the stage carefully.
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar steps to the foot of the stage, watching closely.
Someone thinks:
"How are they doing this, I wonder?"
Glancing at the assembled notables, the swarthy, aging man looks up at the pearl-haired Lirathan templar.
The trim, ashen-skinned man straightens up and eases his dusty tortoiseshell and black-leather shield to his side, hand held flat against the other hip.
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden leans against the stage as she watches, eyes bright with activity.
With a glance towards the ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar, you say, in sirihish:
"First we note that Private Valin made admirable effort, and has proven his loyalty to His Legions and His service. We regret that the Private is no longer considered in contention."
Shifting a bit closer, the very short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales sits on a long wooden bench.
Gaze settling on an amethyst-eyed, golden-haired woman, you say, in sirihish:
"Master Bard Adarana Irofel, please stand before me."
Someone thinks:
"...it just needs to be those two. One of them."
An amethyst-eyed, golden-haired woman moves gracefully to stand before you with a bow of her head.
The pearl-haired Lirathan templar blinks at the ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar.
The freckled, light-skinned man clears his throat, eyes flitting to the stocky, clean-shaven man briefly.
Extending a hand, your ruby crystal pyramid set atop her palm, you say, in sirihish:
"Master Bard, we thank you for your entry, and your loyalty and service to Him. We regret that you are no longer considered a contender."
With barely any sound at all, the stocky, clean-shaven man whispers something to the short, dusky woman .
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden thinks:
"No longer considered? But-- why? I don't understand."
The trim, ashen-skinned man stands perfectly still, gaze ahead, chest barely lifting with each breath.
You say to an amethyst-eyed, golden-haired woman, in sirihish:
"Take this as a token of your entry, and achievement."
You give your ruby crystal pyramid to an amethyst-eyed, golden-haired woman.
The chubby, brown-haired man taps his naked harlot spice pipe with a finger as he watches.
The short, dusky woman nods shallowly, staring at the proceedings.
His hand slipping from his pocket, the scruffy, brown-haired youth snaps his gloved fingers softly before placing his hand at the small of his back.
Looking over to the trim, ashen-skinned man, you say, in sirihish:
"Vash, please step before me."
An amethyst-eyed, golden-haired woman accepts her ruby crystal pyramid gracefully and moves offstage.
The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar stands solemnly looking to you with an appreciative nod before turning his attention back to the stage.
The trim, ashen-skinned man tips a very slow nod before taking a breath and careful, determined strides to stand before you.
For a brief moment, the willowy, grey-streaked man looks at the earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar .
The trim, ashen-skinned man tips a low, polite nod to you.
Someone thinks:
"I knew he wouldn't win, but I was impressed with his efforts none the less. I am glad he was given consideration."
The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihaen templar thinks:
"I will have to do something nice for him in honor of it."
Attention focused on her boots, the very short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales chances only the occasional glance to the stage.
The svelte, top-knotted woman touches her hand to the freckled, light-skinned man's only briefly as she studies the event on stage.
With a smile, her gaze set on him, you say to the trim, ashen-skinned man , in sirihish:
"Your effort in this hunt has been noted and appreciated. Know that Tuluk considers you a fine contestant."
Easing onto a seat beside the tall, muscular man, an amethyst-eyed, golden-haired woman sits on a long wooden bench.
The trim, ashen-skinned man starts to lift his gaze to you but instead tips an even deeper nod.
Holding your ruby crystal pyramid towards him, you say to the trim, ashen-skinned man, in sirihish:
"Take this as a token of your achievement and appreciation, you have done well in His eyes."
You give your ruby crystal pyramid to the trim, ashen-skinned man.
The stocky, clean-shaven man thinks:
"... she didn't say he lost."
The trim, ashen-skinned man slowly lifts his hands and accepts his ruby crystal pyramid with claw covered hands, a warm smile creeping over his lips.
With a nod, you say to the trim, ashen-skinned man, in sirihish:
"We regret that you are no longer considered a contestant."
The robust, coppery-curled teen has arrived from the east.
The lofty, cunyati-tanned man thinks:
"Dang, nice prizes. I should just enter this every year."
The trim, ashen-skinned man tips another nod to you then slowly steps back and off to the side.
<< The trim, ashen-skinned man feels content, happy, you did this and you did it well. >>
Looking to the ebon-haired, ruby-eyed man, you say, in sirihish:
"Vejaan A'jinn, please stand before me."
The pockmarked, well-toned man glances to the chubby, brown-haired man, quickly returning his eyes to the stage.
The ebon-haired, ruby-eyed man steps forward, bowing his head respecfully.
Tiptoeing in unobtrusively, the robust, coppery-curled teen sits on a long wooden bench.
For a moment, the very short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales looks up at the ebon-haired, ruby-eyed man.
The freckled, light-skinned man glances towards the ebon-haired, ruby-eyed man, the corners of his mouth turning downwards.
The trim, ashen-skinned man lifts a finger to carefully trace over the edges of his ruby crystal pyramid as he stands some distance from the group of attention.
Her gaze solemn, you say to the ebon-haired, ruby-eyed man, in sirihish:
"Vejaan A'jinn you have lived up to the name of your family. You were a fine entrant and He was pleased."
Leaning over, the robust, coppery-curled teen whispers something to the shaggy-haired, sun-branded man .
Extending your ruby crystal pyramid to him, you say to the ebon-haired, ruby-eyed man, in sirihish:
"We regret you are no longer considered a contestant, take this as a token of our appreciation."
The ebon-haired, ruby-eyed man nods his head deeply to you, taking the pyramid.
You give your ruby crystal pyramid to the ebon-haired, ruby-eyed man.
The freckled, light-skinned man covers his mouth with a gauntleted hand, coughing.
The freckled, light-skinned man thinks:
"YES!"
Leaning close, the shaggy-haired, sun-branded man whispers something to the robust, coppery-curled teen.The svelte, top-knotted woman clasps her hands tightly in front of her.
The scruffy, brown-haired youth's index and middle fingers remain crossed at the small of his back, the other hand still tucked deeply within the pockets of his desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak.
The tall, muscular man stretches, sauntering up towards the stage.
The freckled, light-skinned man thinks:
"Zharal, then. Odd."
The freckled, light-skinned man thinks:
"Odd choice..."
The short, dusky woman glances sidelong to the stocky, clean-shaven man , flashes a brave smile, then steps forward to show respects to the short-haired, jade-eyed Lirathan templar.
The curvy, jallal-tressed maiden thinks:
"When did Zharal get beat out? So it's Ani and Rokov? Gee. What great choices. Not even a citizen among them."
The stocky, clean-shaven man takes a deep breath and steps forward toward the short-haired, jade-eyed Lirathan templar.
Watching the tall, muscular man approach the stage, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette looks at him.
Someone thinks:
"Fuck. At least we have some sort of defensive agreement between each other."
The tall, muscular man steps up onto the stage, moving between the short-haired, jade-eyed Lirathan templar and the stocky, clean-shaven man and the short, dusky woman .
The willowy, grey-streaked man tilts his head, watching the tall, muscular man.
Her brow raising, the svelte, top-knotted woman looks up at the tall muscular man.
The chubby, brown-haired man looks up at the spangled-blond, muscular woman.
The stocky, clean-shaven man pauses, a hand reflexively going beneath his cloak.
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar thinks:
"A twist?"
The stocky, clean-shaven man looks up at you.
With a slightly narrowed gaze, the scruffy, brown-haired youth looks at the stocky, clean-shaven man .
Glancing over quickly at the lanky, indigo-tressed woman, the willowy, brown-haired young man quietly exhales and leans forward.
The freckled, light-skinned man looks up at you.
The short-haired, jade-eyed Lirathan templar nods slightly as the tall, muscular man approaches.
The chubby, brown-haired man looks up at you.
The short female wearing a mask of glinting, emerald scales thinks:
"The fuck?"
The earthy, sienna-maned Lirathan templar tucks her hands into her sleeves, watching silently.
With a curious shift of his gaze, the sinewy, bald-headed man looks up at the tall, muscular man.
The freckled, light-skinned man quirks an eyebrow briefly.
With a glance over, you say to the short-haired, jade-eyed Lirathan templar, in sirihish:
"This one is mine."
Scene: The Silverwood Estate.
Event: Announcement of the Grey Hunt winner.
Note: Since this was logged by staff thinks and feels which are normally only viewable by the character in question have been left in.
Whistling lowly, the...
Continue Reading...Memoir #9 - The Bynner (Marek) by Rairen
Added on Oct 27, 2009In the incident that leads to him becoming Aja's most fascinating student, an Allanaki-born Byn Sergeant illustrates how easily an outlander can upset the fragile calm of Tuluki upper-caste society.
You are Aja, of many peoples.
Objective: To learn to fight - and still be thought weak.
You are 27 years, 1 months, and 206 days old,
The Sun King's Sanctuary [NESWUD]
A polished, white marble floor covers the ground of this expansive room, gleaming under the light of a large glass chandelier that hangs overhead. A semi-circular bar, made of hard-grained wood painted a deep black, extends from the eastern wall, several high-backed barstools sitting around it. The walls of this room are brightly decorated, with several elaborate paintings placed carefully for unobstructed view, and shelves holding many exotic potted plants, blooming with bright red and white flowers. Two large stained-glass windows, decorated with elaborate sun symbols, adorn the northwest and southeast corners of the room.
Several decoratively carved tables fill this room, while a polished leather couch nearly ten cords in length sprawls along the northern wall. A stately spiral staircase sits in the center of the room, winding upwards toward the common rooms of the second floor. The sounds of laughter and music can be heard from a doorway along the western wall, while the scents of cooked meat waft in from the east. A small, straight stairway sits along the northern wall, ending at a slightly raised loft and a large carven baobab door sits in the southern wall, leading out onto the North Road outside.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman nods down to each of the others, a glass of wine deposited in front of them.
You give your finely made glass goblet to the short, dusky woman.
You give your finely made glass goblet to the freckled, light-skinned man.
You give your finely made glass goblet to the spangled-blond, muscular woman.
You give your finely made glass goblet to the robust, coppery-curled teen.
You give your finely made glass goblet to the sinewy, obsidian-haired man.
You think:
"... I'll be poor but popular."
The dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man has arrived from the south.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman relaxes back against the bar with elegant negligence, falling silent as she looks down to the spangled-blond, muscular woman, the robust, coppery-curled teen, and the others at the bar.
Stiffly, the dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man walks towards a black-painted bar.
With a sigh, the dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man sits at a black-painted bar.
At your table, the robust, coppery-curled teen says in sirihish, chuckling at the sinewy, obsidian-haired man:
"The thought counts, though."
Draining it, the short, dusky woman puts her finely made glass goblet onto a black-painted bar.
With a slight lift of her brow when she notices him and a polite nod in greeting, you look at the dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man.
Raven black hair has been twisted tightly into thin braids that dangle down this man's angular head. At the ends of the long braids, his hairs curve sharply, resembling curling claws. An intricate purple inking of a dragon has been tattooed into his dark flesh. The beasts head rests below his right eye and the long body crosses his cheek, the tail curving over his chin and up to his forehead, the tail ending where his hairline starts. His dark brows lay over his light hazel colored eyes on either side of his long nose. His jawbone is covered in dense black stubble which becomes more sparse as it trails down his thick neck. His wide shoulders spread out and hold a pair of heavily muscled arms, scarred forearms and callused hands. His torso is slender and chiseled with long, muscular legs. His features are darkly tanned to an ebon hue except for a few pale scars etched into the rest of his dark skin.
Turning his head, the dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man looks at you.
At your table, the dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man says in southern-accented sirihish, smiling at you:
"Aja."
At your table, the sinewy, obsidian-haired man says in sirihish, dipping his head into a quick nod, grinning:
"Still, knowing that we both drank from stolen cups only add to the evening."
At your table, you say in sirihish, returning the dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man's smile:
"Marek. A pity, you just missed me buying a round of drinks. You'll have to wait until I can gather the courage to do it again."
The dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man gets his leather waterskin from his leather swordbelt.
At your table, the robust, coppery-curled teen says in sirihish, giggling at the sinewy, obsidian-haired man:
"Two misplaced cups for two misplaced people."
At your table, the sinewy, obsidian-haired man says in sirihish, smiling faintly as he sips quietly from his finely made glass goblet:
"I wish it only took courage and not 'sids to be able to afford a round of drinks, 'round here.."
At your table, you say in sirihish, glancing back to the sinewy, obsidian-haired man with his words, amusement in her pale eyes:
"... Courage and 'sid seem to be synonymous, in this case."
At your table, the dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man says in southern-accented sirihish, eyeing you before unplugging his leather waterskin's stopper:
"Well, yeh'll have t'offer me somethin' else, then."
At your table, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish, head coming up:
"Huh?"
The dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man looks at the sinewy, obsidian-haired man.
The spangled-blond, muscular woman glances at you.
At your table, the sinewy, obsidian-haired man says in sirihish, chuckling softly as he shakes his head in the robust, coppery-curled teen's direction:
"Everyone commented on our dancing, I'm going to assume that we were not as misplaced in the crowd as we might wish we were.."
At your table, you say in sirihish, head turning as she looks at the dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man, her smile inescapably polite:
"... Is not the pleasure of my company - and of the company of this room - enough to sate you?"
(hemote) The ethereal, fair-haired woman's jaw tenses.
At your table, the dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man says in southern-accented sirihish, lifting a hand to scratch his short beard, leaning over his fist, elbow on a black-painted bar:
"Well, yer company's fine...but I'd be a lot more sated if th'rest of th'company wasn't 'bout."
You think:
"Such... a bold... flirt."
The short, dusky woman flicks ash from her solidly packed tube of spice, staring with droll, dark amusement at the dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man.
At your table, the robust, coppery-curled teen says in sirihish, arching a brow at the sinewy, obsidian-haired man:
"Really? Wasn't expectin' that."
At your table, the short, dusky woman says in sirihish:
"Somehow, I doubt that, Marek."
The ethereal, fair-haired woman looks at the dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man, and then laughs, a gloved hand lifting to her lips, muffling the sound.
A thin trail of rich, heady smoke trickles from the short, dusky woman's mouth as she smokes a solidly packed tube of spice.The short, dusky woman's eyes become glassy-red and half-closed.
The dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man chuckles softly, lifting his other fist to meet the other under his chin.
At your table, the dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man says in southern-accented sirihish, glancing at the short, dusky woman:
"Oh, I'd invite yeh too, Chosen Lady, but tha'd be illegal."
At your table, you say in sirihish, after inclining her head to the short, dusky woman:
"... I believe the Chosen Consort is correct, Marek, though it's been too long since we've spoken. You've been well, I trust?"
At your table, the dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man says in southern-accented sirihish, with a twisted smile:
"Shoulda approached me when yeh had th'chance."
The short, dusky woman's expression darkens with anger and disgust as she stares at the dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man, silently grinding a spice tube out on the bartop.
You think:
"... Soothe, soothe."
At your table, the dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man says in southern-accented sirihish, lifting his shoulders back into a shrug:
"Eh, not as many contracts up here as I'd expected."
At your table, you say in sirihish, in her calm, crystal-like voice as she does... not... look in the short, dusky woman's direction:
"... And I'm sorry for it. Perhaps you would walk with me? I... find I need to stretch my legs."
The spangled-blond, muscular woman taps gloved fingers on the bar, glancing between the short, dusky woman and the dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
Slowly arching a brow, the dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man looks down at the short, dusky woman.
At your table, the dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man says in southern-accented sirihish, dipping his head to the short, dusky woman:
"'Scuse me, Chosen Consort, no offense meant."
At your table, the dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man says in southern-accented sirihish, to you:
"Aye, let's walk."
In a smooth motion, your flowing white linen skirt
fluttering about her legs, you stand up from a black-painted bar.
At a black-painted bar, the freckled, light-skinned man speaks, nodding towards the dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man.
At a black-painted bar, the short, dusky woman speaks, snapping out.
At a black-painted bar, you overhear the dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man say in southern-accented sirihish, eyeing the short, dusky woman, nodding:
"I was merely statin' tha' yer above me, Chosen Consort...apologies."
The short, dusky woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Is this man valuable to the northern templarate in any way?"
The ethereal, fair-haired woman's steps slow... and then she turns, offering the short, dusky woman and the freckled, light-skinned man a polite nod in passing.
You contact the short, dusky woman with the Way.
At a black-painted bar, you overhear the dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man say in southern-accented sirihish, to the freckled, light-skinned man:
"An' we can do most anythin', Chosen Lord. Scout, hunt, kill, gather, I'm sure we'd be much easier t'place than th'soldiers of Lyksae..."
The spangled-blond, muscular woman's posture changes, tensing and coiled.
You send a telepathic message to the short, dusky woman:
"I fear that they do not confide such matters to me, and I do not know how valuable he is to the Byn."
The dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man stands up from a black-painted bar.
You send a telepathic message to the short, dusky woman:
"For now, I can take him away from you, though, while you... decide."
The short, dusky woman sends you a telepathic message:
"I see."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
The robust, coppery-curled teen attention lingers on the contents of her finely made glass goblet as she fidgets uneasily.
Adding curtly, the freckled, light-skinned man says, in sirihish:
"And all of the Warriors in my Sept can do that, and keep civil tongues in their heads."
Shrugging his shoulders, the freckled, light-skinned man says, in sirihish:
"Small wonder you have difficulty finding contracts."
You contact the sinewy, obsidian-haired man with the Way.
The spangled-blond, muscular woman stands up from a black-painted bar.
You send a telepathic message to the sinewy, obsidian-haired man:
"My apologies for having to depart so abruptly. I'm certain you understand."
With a smirk, the dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man asks the freckled, light-skinned man, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Aye, perhaps I should turn around'n head back home, hm?"
The spangled-blond, muscular woman moves down the bar and pauses near the dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man.
Inclining his head deeply, the dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man says to the freckled, light-skinned man, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Find m'when yeh think of anythin'."
The dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man looks down at the spangled-blond, muscular woman.
Touching a hand to his elbow, you say to the dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man, in sirihish:
"Not without walking with me first."
The ethereal, fair-haired woman lowers her hand, glancing up to the spangled-blond, muscular woman, as well.
The dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man nods to you, beginning to walk to the doorway.
The short, dusky woman fingers the hilt of her razor-sharp, hawk-etched halfsword, then drops her hand smoothly to the bartop, maintaining a silence.
In her strange thin falsetto, giving weight to the first few syllables, the spangled-blond, muscular woman asks the dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man, in sirihish:
"No offense, Sergeant, but I think you're creating a small disturbance. Perhaps you'd step out and return another time?"
You contact the spangled-blond, muscular woman with the Way.
At a black-painted bar, you overhear the sinewy, obsidian-haired man say in sirihish, smiling curiously in the freckled, light-skinned man's direction, tilting his head to the side:
"Surely you have a stable or two that needs cleaning, Chosen Lord?"
You send a telepathic message to the spangled-blond, muscular woman:
"I'll keep an eye on him, Sid, and let you know where he is if you need him."
Sternly, the dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man looks down at the spangled-blond, muscular woman.
Voice cool, calm, level, the short, dusky woman says to the dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man, in sirihish:
"I would have found that insulting before I was Chosen, Sergeant. Watch your tongue more carefully. You're obviously unfamiliar with northern customs."
The spangled-blond, muscular woman's gaze locks calm and steady on the dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man.
Turning, eyeing the spangled-blond, muscular woman a moment before speaking, the dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man says to the short, dusky woman, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Perhaps yeh could enlighten me."
(hemote) The ethereal, fair-haired woman's hands reach for her hood as she glances between the dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man and the spangled-blond, muscular woman.
The spangled-blond, muscular woman asks the dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man, in sirihish:
"Like I said, no offense. Just trying to keep the peace. But then too, I'm straight serious. Come back another day, huh?"
The dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man says to the short, dusky woman, in southern-accented sirihish:
"'Cause I don't know th'diference between a compliment'n an insult here. They's both seem t'come'n go th'same way."
The short, dusky woman says to the dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man, in sirihish:
"Perhaps you should walk with apprentice Aja Driamusek before you put your dung-covered boot further into that mouth of yours, Sergeant."
Frowning, the dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man walks south.
You follow the dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man, and walk south.
North Road [NESW]
The stark white of this wide stone road lies nestled between the rise and fall of a conglomerated jumble of eclectically styled buildings. Passing through the city, the road is kept clean of any blowing sand and forest debris. The pale backbone cuts a decisive line east across the
bustling metropolis towards what remains of the Old City.
The pale white of the road merges with a newer road just to the east. Further in the distance, the crumbled ruins of the old city can be seen rising up above the newer walls that have been built up around them. Set on the north side of the road is a large two-story tavern. On the south side of the road is a large wagon yard.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman relinquishes her hood, accompanying the dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man with formally correct posture.
The dragon-tattooed, claw-braided man raises the hood of a hooded, brown military aba.
The tall figure in a hooded, brown military aba asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Where yeh wanna walk to?"
His purple-inked dragon-tattooed features twisting into a dark grimace, the tall figure in a hooded, brown military aba says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Allanak'd be a good place t'begin, I'm thinkin'."
The spangled-blond, muscular woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Your solution was a lot more elegant than mine, Bard. Thank you for the help."
With a fixedly polite smile, you ask the tall figure in a hooded, brown military aba, in sirihish:
"... Have you had opportunity to tour the city during your time here?"
The tall figure in a hooded, brown military aba says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"No."
You send a telepathic message to the spangled-blond, muscular woman:
"Elegant, though I would have enjoyed yours more if it could have provoked him into being thrown into the jails. And please, call me Aja. Or Apprentice, if you will use my title."
With a slight nod as she looks out over the commons, you say to the tall figure in a hooded, brown military aba, in sirihish:
"Then let’s walk to the gardens. They've calmed hotter heads than yours."
You are Aja, of many peoples.
Objective: To learn to fight - and still be thought weak.
You are 27 years, 1 months, and 206 days old,
The Sun King's Sanctuary [NESWUD]
A polished, white marble floor covers the ground of this expansive room, gleaming under the light of...
Continue Reading...Memoir #7 - The Student (Peloquin) by Rairen
Added on Oct 27, 2009The escape from Allanak buying her status and a Jihaen patron, Aja uses a mix-up over cloaks to test her most favorite student.
The short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap = Peloquin
The bronzed, stubble-bearded man = Corporal Valin of His LegionsIt is dawn on Nekrete, the 181st day of the Low Sun,
In the Year of Whira's Vengeance, year 38 of the 21st Age.
North Salt Road [NSW]
Rows of pale stones form the backbone for this broad avenue, settled into the ground with graceful fervor. Decorating the edge of the street, the buildings and storefronts are universally adorned with garish and tawdry sculptures, bas reliefs, and murals. The road is filled with a continual throng of humans and demi-humans alike as they scurry about the bustle of daily life.
The sounds of a rowdy commotion spills out onto the streets from the building to the west. A trio of humanoid sculptures are caught before the junction between two roads, the crowds passing around them. An odd-looking sculpture surrounds a stone bench off to one side of the road.
It is a warm day.
Gritty sand blows in from the west, piling in small dunes.
You raise the hood of a hooded, dusky-green cotton cloak.
The bronzed, stubble-bearded man sends you a telepathic message:
"The barracks are slow of late. Thought I could offer you a drink or something? Unless that sounds boring -"
The short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap has arrived from the west.
You send a telepathic message to the bronzed, stubble-bearded man:
"Slow? In truth... Oh, were... you resting recently?"
Steps a touch slower as she lingers in the intersection, you look at the short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap.
Here is a short lissome young man still in the teenage years of development. His soft skin holds a deeply-bronzed tone, making it apparent the young man isno stranger to the savage rays of Suk-Krath. A mass of thick chocolate hairhangs loosely from his head in a slight shag with the occasional clump coveringhis curious deep green eyes which are covered with barely noticeable goldspeckles. Beneath his fine nose lies a soft, gentle-lipped mouth. His chin isslender, with a vaguely squared jawline and completely lacking in any noticeablefacial hair. The young man's slim build shows off what limited muscle he has. His legs are slightly toned and limber however, most likely due to a life ofrunning errands. The short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap is in excellent condition.
The figure in a hooded, dusky-green cotton cloak casts the short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap a shadowed smile.
The bronzed, stubble-bearded man sends you a telepathic message:
"I've been busy in the warrens, why?"
You send a telepathic message to the bronzed, stubble-bearded man:
"A giant roc was seen flying over the city."
The short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap inclines his head politely to you.
The bronzed, stubble-bearded man sends you a telepathic message:
"...Roc?"
You send a telepathic message to the bronzed, stubble-bearded man:
"Yes, a roc. It's a giant... hawk, for lack of better description, if you are unfamiliar with the creature. His Faithful believe it to have been a one-time sighting, but are, I understand, reviewing it."
The figure in a hooded, dusky-green cotton cloak glances skyward, for a moment, with a rueful shake of her head.
You think:
"Valin, decide where you need me."
With a hidden smile, the short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap says to you, in sirihish:
"It was a wild roc."
Glancing down to him a moment before she smiles, again, you say to the short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap, in sirihish:
"... It was. It was."
You think:
"And that was not what I was thinking."
The bronzed, stubble-bearded man sends you a telepathic message:
"When, might I ask?"
With a bemused shake of her head, you say to the short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap, in sirihish:
"... And I should learn to confine my use of the Way to when I am sitting."
You send a telepathic message to the bronzed, stubble-bearded man:
"Yesterday. Just after high sun."
With an apologetic tone, the short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap says to you, in sirihish:
"I am sorry...I've met you before but your name eludes me."
(hemote) The figure in a hooded, dusky-green cotton cloak fights a smile. Oh, does she fight a smile.
With a soft click of her tongue, you say to the short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap, in sirihish:
"... Oh, it's no problem at all. The name's Ameli."
You feel oh, so amused.
You think:
"Let this be a test."
Reaching for his facewrap, the short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap says to you, in sirihish:
"I am Peloquin."
The short, lithe young man stops using his dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap.
The bronzed, stubble-bearded man sends you a telepathic message:
"It is dangerous then...?"
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
Looking down at the short, lithe young man, face shadowed by her hood, you ask the short, lithe young man, in sirihish:
"Oh, that's right. Aren't you an Aide to a Chosen or some such?"
You send a telepathic message to the bronzed, stubble-bearded man:
"That is what His Faithful are endeavoring to discover, but I do not believe they think so."
With a slight smile, the short, lithe young man says to you, in sirihish:
"Faithful Lord Elithan, Miss Ameli."
With a long, drawn out 'oh' sound, you ask the short, lithe young man, in sirihish:
"I see, I see. That's an honor, now. Aren't you a little young to be serving one like him?"
You think:
"This is oddly amusing. I should feign voices more often."
With a sheepish chuckle, the short, lithe young man says to you, in sirihish:
"Probably...but he took me in when my mother died, otherwise I would be homeless. I suppose it is the only thing he could think to do with me until I am old enough to serve the Legion."
With a quiet, rough laugh, you say to the short, lithe young man, in sirihish:
"Is that the way of it? Stuck in the city? Better you'n me, boy."
The tall figure in a long, hooded red and white tabard has arrived from the south.
Sidelong, the tall figure in a long, hooded red and white tabard looks down at the short, lithe young man.
You send a telepathic message to the bronzed, stubble-bearded man:
"Do not recognize me."
The short, lithe young man looks up at the tall figure in a long, hooded red and white tabard.
You send a telepathic message to the bronzed, stubble-bearded man:
"Pass by me without a glance. I'm... giving a test to the Aide."
Along with the short, lithe young man, you look up at the tall figure in a long, hooded red and white tabard.
With a firm nod, the short, lithe young man says to the tall figure in a long, hooded red and white tabard, in sirihish:
"Good day Recruit."
The tall figure in a long, hooded red and white tabard tips his head amiably to the short, lithe young man after a moment.
The figure in a hooded, dusky-green cotton cloak dips her chin down as she nods to the tall figure in a long, hooded red and white tabard.
Calmly, after a moment, the tall figure in a long, hooded red and white tabard says to the short, lithe young man, in sirihish:
"Find my mind later, if you wish to get some training in."
The tall figure in a long, hooded red and white tabard walks west.
You feel highly amused.
The short, lithe young man forms his mouth into a slightly crooked grin in the direction of the departing figure.
The figure in a hooded, dusky-green cotton cloak glances down the road with a snort of laughter.
Turning to look down at him again, you ask the short, lithe young man, in sirihish:
"Is that the sort you want to be like?"
The figure in a hooded, dusky-green cotton cloak straightens her shoulders, puffing out her chest for 'militaristic' posture.
You send a telepathic message to the bronzed, stubble-bearded man:
"You have my deepest thanks, my friend. I believe I owe you a drink when this is done."
Tilting his head halfway, the short, lithe young man says to you, in sirihish:
"No, I don't think I could be as grouchy as Valin."
Making a soft 'Ah...', you ask the short, lithe young man, in sirihish:
"So grouchy, is he? He seems the sort. What are you going to be, then? Have a stick up your arse?"
You think:
"I... don't know how long I can keep this up. Oh, my."
Brightening his deep green eyes, the short, lithe young man says to you, in sirihish:
"I am going to be a good honest man who works for the good of the Ivory and its people."
You think:
"A good answer, a good answer."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The bronzed, stubble-bearded man sends you a telepathic message:
"Just doing my job, miss Aja."
The bronzed, stubble-bearded man sends you a telepathic message:
"Good luck with him."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
Starting to walk again and beckoning to him, you say to the short, lithe young man, in sirihish:
"Right, of course. A real noble sort. Like I said, better you'n me, that's to be sure. Me, give me the grasslands and I'm happy."
The short, lithe young man falls in behind you.
n (with long, quick strides)
North Salt Road [NS]
Rows of pale stones form the backbone for this broad avenue, settled into the ground with graceful fervor. Decorating the edge of the street, the buildings and storefronts are universally adorned with garish and tawdry sculptures, bas reliefs, and murals. The road is filled with a continual throng of humans and demi-humans alike as they scurry about the bustle of daily life.
The murals here are especially well-colored, the bright dye calling attention to a row of exaggerated daily scenes. An enormous sandstone sculpture of a mantis looms over the road from before one of the eastern buildings.
The short, lithe young man places his dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap onto his face.Cloak wrapped tight about her body, you say to the short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap, in sirihish:
"It's the world out there, boy. The world out there that you're missing. And -"
The figure in a hooded, dusky-green cotton cloak takes a few more, long paces and then comes to a quick halt, whirling to look down at the short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap.
You ask the short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap, in sirihish:
"Wait, wait. So you ain't a soldier yet?"
Shaking his head, the short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap says to you, in sirihish:
"I can't be until I am sixteen."
After a stunned silence, you ask the short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap, in sirihish:
"... And so, you're wasting your life in here?"
The figure in a hooded, dusky-green cotton cloak shakes her head, moving forward again with long strides.
(Walking onward and "Ameli" always half a step in front of him...)
The Road of Merchants [NS]
Squat, mud-brick structures adorn either side of this dust-covered street, rising up from the ground at varying intervals. Wide ranging colors can be seen splashed across the vast majority of them, most appearing as brightly painted murals or colorfully woven carpets and tarps. The road itself is comprised of a sullen, yellow sandstone that has been chiseled into neatly rounded blocks before being cobbled into the ground.
A thick wall composed of agafari beams rises up to the east, preventing travel in that direction.
With a slight shrug, the short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap says to you, in sirihish:"No. I am allowed to leave as long as I have someone with me. I can usually get a guard, the Faithful Lord or a recruit to take me out to hunt and such."
The figure in a hooded, dusky-green cotton cloak slows down near a group of people gathered near one wall, one of them gesturing wildly to the sky.
Still walking forward, you ask the short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap, in sirihish:
"Oh, right. A guard. So I suppose you're too kank-shit scared to come out with a real hunter?"
The Road of Merchants [NS]
Squat, mud-brick structures adorn either side of this dust-covered street, rising up from the ground at varying intervals. Wide ranging colors can be seen splashed across the vast majority of them, most appearing as brightly painted murals or colorfully woven carpets and tarps. The road itself is comprised of a sullen, yellow sandstone that has been chiseled into neatly rounded blocks before being cobbled into the ground.
A thick wall composed of agafari beams rises up to the east, preventing travel in that direction.
The figure in a hooded, dusky-green cotton cloak glances over her shoulder and then steps close to the short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap, shadows falling over her face.
You whisper to the short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap in sirihish:"I'm going to go kill that fucking bird."
The Road of Merchants [NES]
Squat, mud-brick structures adorn either side of this dust-covered street, rising up from the ground at varying intervals. Wide ranging colors can be seen splashed across the vast majority of them, most appearing as brightly painted murals or colorfully woven carpets and tarps. The road itself is comprised of a sullen, yellow sandstone that has been chiseled into neatly rounded blocks before being cobbled into the ground.
A path of cobbled, blue-hued stones runs east.
With a distinct frown, the short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap says to you, in sirihish:
"I can go...but I don't want to kill the roc. It's too beautiful and there are so many other purposes for such a creature."
Stopping again with stunned silence, you say to the short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap, in sirihish:
"Better purposes? Name one."
Ruffling his thick chocolate hair briefly, the short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap says to you, in sirihish:
"It could be trained and watch over the passage to the Ivory from atop the fortress to the west."
Silent, again, as she clicks her tongue a few times, you say to the short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap, in sirihish:
"Trained, huh? Bet His Faithful would pay a pretty 'sid for something like, wouldn't they..."
With a meek shrug, the short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap says, in sirihish:
"Probably."
Shoulder almost touching his own, you say to the short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap, in sirihish:
"Well, here's a deal. I take you with, Faithful Aide, we find a roc. I give it a clip to its wing and you help me get a commission with the Faithful."
The short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap asks you, in sirihish:
"Is it safe for me out there Miss Ameli?"
Stopping to spit off to one side, you say to the short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap, in sirihish:
"Sure'n its safe, if you stay with me and don't do nothin' stupid."
You say to the short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap, in sirihish:
"I've been hawk trainin' since you were on all fours. You stay back and down, and ain't nothin'll harm you."
The short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap asks you, in sirihish:
"Well I've got some things to do before I can go on such a big trip...maybe you could wait and I could find your minds in a few days?"
With a slight nod, you ask the short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap, in sirihish:
"I think I can wait that long. We agreed? You'll speak for me?"
You feel suddenly overwhelmed and ill from the heat.
The short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap asks you, in sirihish:
"Yes, but you understand the roc is bigger than you and it's not at all going to be easy to clip?"
The figure in a hooded, dusky-green cotton cloak nods, throwing back her cloak to offer the short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap a white linen-gloved, four-fingered hand.
The harshness in her voice giving way to something softer... and more crystalline, you say to the short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap, in sirihish:
"Yes, I think I know exactly that, Aide."
With a surprised widening of his eyes, the short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap asks you, in sirihish:
"...Aja?"
The figure in a hooded, dusky-green cotton cloak lifts her hands, pulling back the long hood of her cloak.
You lower the hood of a hooded, dusky-green cotton cloak.
You feel a sudden wave of nausea.
Pale eyes studying his face, you ask the short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap, in sirihish:
"... Yes?"
The ethereal, fair-haired woman's lips form a thin line.
The short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap looks at you.
You think:
"Keep... it together..."
You get your leather waterskin from your leather-strapped, rich purple satchel.
Slowly, you drink the water.
Still looking at the short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap, you put your leather waterskin into your leather-strapped, rich purple satchel.
Slouching his shoulders subtly, the short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap asks you, in sirihish:
"Was that a test?"
With a slight nod, you say to the short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap, in sirihish:
"Mm-hmm."
You think:
"I'm going to be sick, but... this lesson is too sweet..."
Rubbing a partially healed wounded on his cheek, the short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap says, in sirihish:
"Busted..."
With another, slight nod, you say to the short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap, in sirihish:
"Mm-hmm."
Her voice softening as she looks to the sky, you say to the short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap, in sirihish:
"I know you must... have things to attend to. We can speak on this later."
You think:
"Please, don't let me faint..."
(hemote) The ethereal, fair-haired woman’s skin pales, sweat glistening on her skin.
With a gentle sigh, the short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap says to you, in sirihish:
"Yes Aja...Light Guide you..."
With a polite nod, you say to the short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap, in sirihish:
"And you... Peloquin."
The short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap walks east.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman waits until the short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap is out of sight before she slumps against the wall.
The short male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap = Peloquin
The bronzed, stubble-bearded man = Corporal Valin of His LegionsIt is dawn on Nekrete, the 181st day of the Low Sun,
In the Year of Whira's Vengeance, year 38 of the 21st Age.
North Salt Road [NSW]
Continue Reading...Lucky Charm by Aruna
Added on Oct 24, 2009A trio of gypsies conduct some business with a fellow traveler in the wagonyard of Luir's Outpost.
You step out to...
Luir's Wagon Yard [SW]
This large tract of dry, cracked earth lies just to the northwest of
the west gate of Luirs. To the south, across Steel road, a stables is
easily visble and westward, the inner walls of the outpost loom. The hard
packed soil here shows signs of recent wagon tracks, not yet worn into the
deep ruts that time will surely provide and handlers and caravan members
bustle around at all hours of the day and night.
A large, vividly painted wagon sits here, splashed with eyestartling colors.
A desert-hued agafari wagon, drawn by inix, stands here.
A small courier wagon hitched to four erdlus stands here.
The short, dusky woman lounges against a wagon, ankles crossed.
The slick-haired, rune-nailed man is standing here, looking tired.
The hardy, midnight-curled woman stands here, beside a vividly painted wagon.
The braidlocked, turquoise-eyed woman deboards a vividly painted wagon, munching on your partially eaten honied, seed-encrusted wheat cake.
You eat part of your partially eaten honied, seed-encrusted wheat cake.
After a moment, watching him with a half-grin, the short, dusky woman says to the slick-haired, rune-nailed man, in sirihish:"We do, actually, have good-luck charms. Not so expensive."
You begin speaking sirihish.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
Moving to loiter near her, you ask the hardy, midnight-curled woman, in sirihish:
"What's new, girl?"
You eat part of your half eaten honied, seed-encrusted wheat cake.
The short, dusky woman sends you a telepathic message:
"This gajo's fucking slimy. How you been?"
Making a warding gesture, the slick-haired, rune-nailed man asks the short, dusky woman, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Have heard stories of Muarki curses all my life in the silt.....you sure this' the real deal?"
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
The red light of Jihae rises over the outpost's southern walls.
Gulping audibly, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat, the slick-haired, rune-nailed man says to the short, dusky woman, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Lemme see one, if you have an ankle charm...."
Putting her hands to her chest, eyes widening in wounded hurt, the short, dusky woman says to the slick-haired, rune-nailed man, in sirihish:
"Curses? Us? Never. We're bringers of laughs and luck. Always."
The braidlocked, turquoise-eyed woman grins toward the short, dusky woman, and shoots a glance to the slick-haired, rune-nailed man.Chuckling, the short, dusky woman turns, grabbing a plank that leans against a vividly painted wagon on the way up the ramp.
The short, dusky woman enters a vividly painted wagon.
Nodding at the ramp, the hardy, midnight-curled woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Flushed a couple of goudra out from the scrub wit' Jisiu there, yesterday."
Lifting her chin, to indicate the departing figure, you ask the slick-haired, rune-nailed man, in sirihish:
"Yer talkin' to the best lucky charm ever there was. Eh?"
The short, dusky woman emerges from a vividly painted wagon.
Licking her lips of crumbs, her eyes narrowing, you say to the hardy, midnight-curled woman, in sirihish:
"Mmm. The things I miss. "
Turning to peer directly into your eyes, the slick-haired, rune-nailed man says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"You have.....exquisite eyes."
The slick-haired, rune-nailed man pinches his pair of splotchy purple sunslits up, continuing to look into your eyes.
Looking toward the slick-haired, rune-nailed man as she steps up beside you, the short, dusky woman lets her yellow ceramic charm dangle from a finger.
The braidlocked, turquoise-eyed woman shifts her gaze to send a not-so-sure grin the slick-haired, rune-nailed man's way.The hardy, midnight-curled woman looks from you to the slick-haired, rune-nailed man and chuckles.
Without changing his serene expression, the slick-haired, rune-nailed man lets his pair of splotchy purple sunslits drop back down, covering his eyes once again.
Turning around, the slick-haired, rune-nailed man says to the short, dusky woman, in southern-accented sirihish:
"I'd prefer a charm with Whira's blessings, if you have anything like that....krath knows I'd need to fly if a horror pounced on my skimmer."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the short, dusky woman with the Way.
Glancing at her yellow ceramic charm, the short, dusky woman says to the slick-haired, rune-nailed man, in sirihish:
"Don' have much like that. This's a charm for luck, plain an' simple."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the short, dusky woman:
"Definitely a weirdo. I've been good.. you?"
You dissolve the psychic link.
The slick-haired, rune-nailed man moves one hand over the short, dusky woman's hand in which the charm is held, looking down at his nails.
Giving it a little toss, the short, dusky woman gives her yellow ceramic charm to the slick-haired, rune-nailed man.
The slick-haired, rune-nailed man moves his hand back, and nods once.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The short, dusky woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Never complaining. Negotiating. We've got our shiny thing back."
The braidlocked, turquoise-eyed woman pushes the last bit of cake into her mouth, watching the slick-haired, rune-nailed man.
You eat your small portion of a honied, seed-encrusted wheat cake.
You are full.
You are carrying:
a cream-colored japuaar fruit
Dropping it into her pocket, you put your cream-colored japuaar fruit into your desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak.Pressing both his palms around the charm, for a moment, the slick-haired, rune-nailed man asks the short, dusky woman, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Whats it gonna cost me Jisiu?"
The slick-haired, rune-nailed man asks the short, dusky woman, in southern-accented sirihish:
"And more importantly, do you make them in purple? Or blue?"
Tilting her head back, the short, dusky woman says to the slick-haired, rune-nailed man, in sirihish:
"What's good fortune worth to you? We have blue."
Returning it with the flick of a wrist, the slick-haired, rune-nailed man gives his yellow ceramic charm to the short, dusky woman.
Glancing at her yellow ceramic charm, the short, dusky woman asks the slick-haired, rune-nailed man, in sirihish:
"But not with us. What, don' like flashy bright?"
The short, dusky woman sweeps a dubious look up and down the slick-haired, rune-nailed man.
The short, dusky woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Kind of a funny story how we got it, too."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
Bending forward to unhitch his small crystal pendant, the slick-haired, rune-nailed man asks the short, dusky woman, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Tell you what, I'll pay for the charm, but instead of yours, can you bless mine?"
The slick-haired, rune-nailed man says to the short, dusky woman, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Add a few beads in the string, if you like...."
The slick-haired, rune-nailed man stops using his small crystal pendant.
Tucking it into an inside pocket, the short, dusky woman puts her yellow ceramic charm into her drab, weathered stormcloak.
The great sun rises in the east, turning the scrub plains to gold.
The slick-haired, rune-nailed man extends one hand, his small crystal pendant dangling from it.
The slick-haired, rune-nailed man gives his small crystal pendant to the short, dusky woman.
Head tilted, the short, dusky woman reaches out for the pendant.
The short, dusky woman tucks an ankle up, loosening a strap around it.
The short, dusky woman extinguishes a glowing leather-strapped green glow-crystal.
Grinning crookedly, you ask the short, dusky woman, in sirihish:
"You wanna do't, or should I?"
Turning her small crystal pendant over in her palm, the short, dusky woman says to you, in sirihish:
"You've always been better at it, pretty pena. You an' your eyes."
To the three women standing in a circle, the slick-haired, rune-nailed man says, in southern-accented sirihish:
"If its all the same, I'll go over and stand there....."
Leaning toward you, the short, dusky woman says to you, in sirihish:
"My kisses bring danger, not luck."
The slick-haired, rune-nailed man looks down at his nails, striding off.
The short, dusky woman gives you her small crystal pendant.
The slick-haired, rune-nailed man walks westwards, out of view, behind a wagon.
With a visible show of excitement, the braidlocked, turquoise-eyed woman takes the pendant, gathering it in her palm.
The short, dusky woman grins a little, leaning back and slouching against a vividly painted wagon.
The short, dusky woman intently scans the area.
The braidlocked, turquoise-eyed woman takes a couple of slow breaths and, glancing a bit westward out of the corner of her eye, covers your small crystal pendant with her other hand, rubbing it some between her palms.
Tilting her wide-brimmed, tandu hide hat back for a better view, the hardy, midnight-curled woman watches you.
The short, dusky woman watches with a completely serious face.
Resolutely, the slick-haired, rune-nailed man stands leaning against a wagon, his back against the group of three women.
In a low, serious chanting tone, rubbing the pendant between her hands with her eyes closed, you say, in sirihish:"Mm-bot, sh-ga. Mm-bot, sh-ga. Mmmmm-grtt, sh-gat-daaaaa."
The slick-haired, rune-nailed man buffs his nails on his feather-lined, purple mesh shirt, and then spreads his fingers, looking down at his nails.
The braidlocked, turquoise-eyed woman opens her eyes slowly, her face dead serious, and kisses your small crystal pendant for added luck, before clearing her throat noisily.
A strange sort of sound escapes the short, dusky woman, and she quickly coughs into a fist.
Calling out, avoiding the short, dusky woman's eyes, you say, in sirihish:
"Alright, we're good now."
The slick-haired, rune-nailed man inhales sharply, turns around and strides back.
You think:
"This guy's such an idiot."
His expression neutral, the slick-haired, rune-nailed man says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Thank you."
The slick-haired, rune-nailed man extends one palm, face up.
The slick-haired, rune-nailed man opens a blue silk backpack with purple lily embroidery.
The slick-haired, rune-nailed man gets his pile of allanaki coins from his blue silk backpack with purple lily embroidery.
The short, dusky woman smiles winsomely at the slick-haired, rune-nailed man, then adds a little wink.
Smiling with satisfaction, you give your small crystal pendant to the slick-haired, rune-nailed man.
The hardy, midnight-curled woman's eyes follow the pendant as it changes hands.
The sun begins its long voyage across the heavens.
The slick-haired, rune-nailed man crosses his hand over your hand, releasing a clinking of black coins from one palm into the other.
The slick-haired, rune-nailed man gives you 100 coins.
All eyes on him, pulling her hand away, you say to the slick-haired, rune-nailed man, in sirihish:"You'll have to let us know how it serves you, man."
The slick-haired, rune-nailed man drops a mute nod, pulling the string and jerking it over his neck.
The slick-haired, rune-nailed man bows his head, placing his small crystal pendant about his neck.
The slick-haired, rune-nailed man puts his pile of allanaki coins into his blue silk backpack with purple lily embroidery.
The slick-haired, rune-nailed man closes a blue silk backpack with purple lily embroidery.
Trailing her dark gaze up him, the short, dusky woman says to the slick-haired, rune-nailed man, in sirihish:
"A real pleasure, man of Kadius. We'll look for you in Red Storm."
Raising one hand, the slick-haired, rune-nailed man says, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Safe sands at your feet, gypsies...."
The slick-haired, rune-nailed man walks west.
The short, dusky woman smirks hard, turning.
The short, dusky woman enters a vividly painted wagon.
Shooting you a grin, the hardy, midnight-curled woman says to you, in bendune:
"That was good."
The hardy, midnight-curled woman enters a vividly painted wagon.
The braidlocked, turquoise-eyed woman smirks to herself, hopping inside.You step out
to...
Luir's Wagon Yard [SW]
This large tract of dry,
cracked earth lies just to the northwest of
the west gate of Luirs. To the south, across Steel road, a stables
is
easily visble and westward, the inner
walls of the outpost loom. ...
Continue Reading...Mister Gerakis and Misses Mosali by Reiloth
Added on Jul 28, 2009A booth in the Storm's Eye leads to bad blood, quicker than Misses Mosali would care to think.
The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak = Mister Gerakis
The figure in dusty drab weathered storm-cloak = Misses Mosali of House Salarr
~~
The Tribal Room [N]
Separated from the balcony by a curtain of beaded fringe, this
sparsely furnished room is entirely decorated in a tribal motif. Boldly
painted sandcloth murals totally blanket the walls and are tacked to the
ceiling overhead, concealing the room's artificial construction and giving
an impression of a much larger open-air space. A large, highly decorated
woven mat covers the entire floor, and only a few simple carvings finish out
the decor.
A radiantly woven, golden cloth tapestry is sewn securely to the wall.
A bead and feather adorned rug hanging has been affixed to one wall.
An impressive raptor hide, darkly-stained, has been mounted onto one wall.
Rubbing a huge hand over his squashed, hooked nose, the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"What you .. wanted to talk about?"
Placing both gloved hands atop your sleek, rantarri-headed cane's snarling feline head, easing forward, you say to the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
"I would appreciate if'n you could tell me what happened exactly, between you an' my employee, Jorue."
Narrowing an eye beneath the shadows of her sunslits, you say to the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
"I'd also prefer th' truth, as I only want t'know what happened. I, and my House, do not mean you harm."
His bushy eyebrows furrowing, the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Uhh.. so you don't know?"
In a calm rasp of a soprano, shifting her weight from right to left though it remains mostly on top of your sleek, rantarri-headed cane, you say to the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
"I would just like to hear your side of things."
You say, in sirihish:
"It is only...Fair."
Shrugging his huge shoulders a bit, the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Okay. Your employee Jorue led a Carru at me, which hurt my neck real bad. I moved off a little down the road, and there he went leadin' it my way again."
Clearing her throat roughly, you say to the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
"Yes, continue."
Stroking his massive beard and continuing, the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"When I asked him what he was doin', and told him what happened to me, he told me that.. I was too slow and it wasn't his problem. So I kicked his little ass up and down the crack in the shield wall"
With a calm nod, you say to the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
"That must have felt good."
Staring down at you, the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Was okay. I was hurtin' at the time, mostly."
North, through a curtain, is On the Balcony.
The curtain is open.
[Far]
Nothing.
[Near]
The battle-scarred, one-legged mul sits here, crutch and inks within reach.
The figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak nods in silence, watching the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak's face intently.
A few massive fingers disappearing in his beard as he scratches himself, the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Sooo.. what Jorue tell you?"
You ask the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
"That is it?"
The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Yeah. That's pretty much it."
Raising a hand from your sleek, rantarri-headed cane, you ask the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
"So you did not come back to this Outpost, an' claim Jorue tried to kill you?"
You ask, in sirihish:
"And speak personally with First Sergeant Nahkt, over this matter?"
The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Didn't I just say he was leadin' Carru to me over and over?"
With a calm smile as the hand droops back to your sleek, rantarri-headed cane, you ask, in sirihish:
"First you say once..And then over and over. Which is it?"
The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"When did I say once?"
Tilting her head to one side, you ask the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
"When did you say otherwise?"
Holding up two fingers at you, the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Two times."
Shrugging casually, you ask the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
"Did it ever occur to you that perhaps...The Carru wanted to kill you?"
You ask the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
"And Jorue?"
You say, in sirihish:
"That it...In fact...Is a dangerous animal wit' little sense or reason running through its antler'd head."
The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Where I'm from, that kind of shit gets you killed Missus Mosali."
Shrugging his huge shoulders at you, the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"An I sure didn't like it none."
With an easy nod, sucking a short breath through her flared nostrils, you say to the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
"Regardless, I cannot allow for my employees to be harmed, intentionally at tha', without recompense of some shape and form."
The figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak raps a few fingers along the snarling feline head of your sleek, rantarri-headed cane.
Gesturing between you and himself, the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"So uhh.. the inix got back to you didn't it? Recompense right there."
You ask, in sirihish:
"What inix?"
The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"The black one."
You ask, in sirihish:
"Jorue's inix?"
With a tiny nod, the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Yeah, his inix."
You say, in sirihish:
"That...Is not good enough, unfortunately."
Snapping his fingers loudly, the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak exclaims to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"I got it!"
The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Gotta large or two I could probably give you. Like 'sid right?"
In a still-calm voice, her chin lowering a fraction of an inch, you say, in sirihish:
"'sid makes problems like these go away, forever. In fact, it'd make it possible for you to still deal with our House."
As an afterthought, her blue eyes widening within the shadows of her sunslits, you say, in sirihish:
"And I do not think we would want these problems, between you and Jorue, to be remembered."
You sigh.
Nodding a bit as he begins to rise from a long woven mat, the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Okay. Salarr thought I was a raider, huh?"
The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak stands up from a long woven mat.
You say to the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
"Y'gotta see it from our point of view, Mister Gerakis."
You say to the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
"You attacked a House employee, one way or another. Shit, Jorue could've been a little prick and tried t'lead a Carru into you."
Personally-,, you say to the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
"I do not think it was the case. I think it was a misunderstanding."
You say to the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
"But, it still cannot stand that a non-afilliated half-giant attacked a member of Salarr, without there being some sort of...Parley."
Holding his massive paws up, palms out, the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"I understand, believe me."
With a simple smile, you say to the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
"I have no ill feelings towards you, Mister Gerakis. I have killed friends, over simple misunderstandings. It does not feel good to know the situation is not in your control."
The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak begins to move toward the curtain, his big bushy eyebrows wrinkling up.
The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Yeah.. yeah.."
The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak subdues you.
The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"I'll tell you though."
The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak says to you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"I have been in control."
The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak attacks you.
The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak lightly hits your hand.
PANIC! You couldn't escape!
You bludgeon the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak's leg.
You wound the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak on his wrist with your bludgeon.
You silently reach into a leather knife belt and discreetly slide out a dusty vicious claw longknife.
You land a solid stab to the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak's neck.
The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak's muscles contract, and his body goes rigid.
You wound the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak on his head with your bludgeon.
You stab the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak very hard on his back.
You viciously bludgeon the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak on his head.
The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak reels from the blow.
You stab the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak very hard on his back.
You wound the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak on his head with a brutal bludgeon.
The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak's eyes roll back in his head.
The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak crumples to the ground.
The Tribal Room [N]
Separated from the balcony by a curtain of beaded fringe, this
sparsely furnished room is entirely decorated in a tribal motif. Boldly
painted sandcloth murals totally blanket the walls and are tacked to the
ceiling overhead, concealing the room's artificial construction and giving
an impression of a much larger open-air space. A large, highly decorated
woven mat covers the entire floor, and only a few simple carvings finish out
the decor.
A radiantly woven, golden cloth tapestry is sewn securely to the wall.
A bead and feather adorned rug hanging has been affixed to one wall.
An impressive raptor hide, darkly-stained, has been mounted onto one wall.
The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak is sleeping here, rigid and unmoving, bleeding profusely.
You look down at the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak.
Before you is an unusually proportioned half-giant. Rather squat for one
of his race, this half-giant is nonetheless packing dense muscle which
bulges grossly to exaggeration wherever the eye can see. His brutish, hairy
features are clearly masculine and a full, bushy beard of coarse dark hair
frames his round face. His hairline recedes nearly over the top of his
head, which bears curly black hair in far less abundance then the lower half
of his face. Beady black eyes peer out from beneath bushy black brows,
appearing like bits of polished obsidian to either side of his squat, hooked
nose. Fine cracks can be seen all over this half-giant male's exposed skin,
appearing almost as a sprawling web over his severely sun-browned skin.
Some cracks in the tough hide seem to be the resting place of bits of
reddish and yellow dust and grit which almost livens the harshly tanned
flesh in a way similar to poorly inked tattoos.
The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak is in poor condition.
The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak is using:a dusty bone helmet a dusty dusky-black feather a dusty desert-camouflaged, sandcloth-covered collar a dusty double-layered sandcloth pack a dusty braided leather strap a dusty braided leather strap a new bloodied pair of desert-camouflaged, sandcloth sleeves a spiked, chitin bracer a spiked, chitin bracer a dusty pair of desert-camouflaged, sandcloth gloves a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak a bloodied pair of sand-colored sandcloth pants a dusty pair of sturdy leather boots
He is carrying:
nothing obvious
The figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak's breathing becomes ragged and slow.
The figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak prods the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak's side with a soft booted toe.
Through a curtain to the north is On the Balcony.
The curtain is open.
[Far]
Nothing.
[Near]
The battle-scarred, one-legged mul sits here, crutch and inks within reach.
You are:
Corporal/Hand/Merchant Trainee/Crafter of the House Salarr, jobs: recruiter | leader | banker |
Relationship to the land is neutral.
You are currently speaking sirihish with a tribal accent.
Your mood is neutral.
You are standing.
You are refusing saves on: arrest.
You are not being merciful.
You aren't watching anything in particular.
You stop using your dusty vicious claw longknife.
You carefully snap a dusty vicious claw longknife into a dusty pair of soft, grey-veined black boots.
You are very hungry.
>close curtain north
Ok.
The figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak drops down to a squat in front of the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak.
>draw vicious boots
You reach down and draw a dusty vicious claw longknife out of your boot.
You brandish your dusty vicious claw longknife.
You stop using your sleek, rantarri-headed cane.
You put your sleek, rantarri-headed cane into your dusty steel grey duffel bag.
The figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak straddles the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak's gigantic leg, drawing your dusty vicious claw longknife up from her boot.
You say, in sirihish:
"That wasn't an excellent idea."
You say, in sirihish:
"But i'm going to have to make this quick."
In a low voice, you say, in sirihish:
"I don't know why you did that, but you did."
The figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak rises from the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak's leg.
You say, in sirihish:
"If you wake up..."
You say, in sirihish:
"You will tell all of Kurac and Salarr I murdered you, or tried."
You say, in sirihish:
"Just like Jorue."
You say, in sirihish:
"Unfortunately, I can't let that happen."
The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak's eyes flutter open.
You say, in sirihish:
"Find my mind, now."
Grating her teeth, you say, in sirihish:
"This very instant."
The figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak draws your dusty vicious claw longknife up.
You begin moving silently toward your victim.
The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak groans loudly as you thrust your knife up between his ribs.
You inflict a grievous wound on the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak's back with your stab.
The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak's eyes roll back in his head.
The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak crumples to the ground.
The figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak repeatedly jabs your dusty vicious claw longknife into the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak's hindquarters, drawing long wounds up and down the small of his back.
The figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak slides your dusty razor-sharp, hawk-etched halfsword deep into the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak's back, severing the spine and pushing it upwards through the mass of intestines and entrails and other, more important organs.
>kill giant
You attack the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak.
You do unspeakable damage to the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak's back with your stab.
You viciously stab the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak on his back.
Drawing the blade out of the giant's back with a wet *SHLUP*, you say, in sirihish:
"Right shame, mate. Coulda just done with a large or two."
~~The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak = Mister Gerakis
The figure in dusty drab weathered storm-cloak = Misses Mosali of House Salarr
~~
The Tribal Room [N]
Separated from the balcony by a curtain of beaded fringe, this
sparsely furnished room is entirely...
Continue Reading...Something Wrong with the Unit by Taven
Added on Apr 26, 2009There's been alot of talk about Magickers, and how they're treated. In this log, some of the events behind the murder of the old Vividuian pool keeper are revealed. That murder led to much OOC forum discussion, and this is an interesting history about all that.
There's been alot of talk about Magickers, and how they're treated. In this log, some of the events behind the murder of the old Vividuian pool keeper are revealed. That murder led to much OOC forum discussion, and this is an interesting history about all that.
In addition a number of factor go into this log, and I'm sure each of the players involved would have different views of just what those are. Ruti (the wiry, young man) is a Private in the militia who has an unusually high paranoia about gemmers. Jenneth, whose perspective the story is told from (the slender, hack-haired man) is Ruti's some-times lover, and good friend. Nae (the pale-eyed, blond-braided woman) I think it a Corporal right now. I believe at this time Laila (vibrant, jade-adorned brunette) is the Sergeant of the First Unit of the Jade Sabers.
One of the factors of Laila's play is the belief that the mistake of leaving things glowing on Hodor was a sheerly OOC mistake, and should be overlooked the same way forgetting to sheath weapons or holding a torch should. There could possibly also be the IC reason of that they need to use the mage on this mission, and punishment right now wasn't practical. At the same time, from my perspective, it had already built up too much to be ignored. I'd venture to guess that Ruti's player felt OOCly that gemmed should be treated more strictly about forgetting such things, since of their PC's position and power. ICly, all this had been building up for awhile. Obviously, all the factors haven't been mentioned, but I feel that this was an important preface to add.
<Jenneth:: 123/123hp 117/125st 125/125sn>
A foreign presence contacts your mind.The wiry young man sends you a telepathic message:
"*warm affection and relief* Jen!"You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the wiry young man with the Way.You send a telepathic message to the wiry young man:
"You! You fecker, you keep lettin' th' wall warden drag ya off! *happy*"The wiry young man sends you a telepathic message:
"You with the unit? On patrol? Oy, I've missed you. I've -needed- you."You send a telepathic message to the wiry young man:
"Th' unit, in th' barracks. We're talkin' 'bout Luirs n' shet. You hafta come, ya know. I'm -draggin'- ya along."The wiry young man sends you a telepathic message:
"The Lord Templar ordered the Sergeant to execute me if I fuck up again. You get wall for a few weeks, and everything falls apart."You send a telepathic message to the wiry young man:
".....Wha did you -DO-? *worry*"The wiry young man sends you a telepathic message:
"It's because I don't fancy gemmers. "You send a telepathic message to the wiry young man:
"There's more t' it then tha. Wha happened?"The wiry young man sends you a telepathic message:
"We were out of water in the barracks. I told a gemmer that I was gonna fill the cisterns. She said no, not unless I paid. I told her to stop fucking around. She gave me shit about contracts and money. I talked rude to her. Because a filthy..."The wiry young man sends you a telepathic message:
".... -gemmer-, talking like that to a soldier in His militia? About water for the barracks? And they all down on me--and hard. "You send a telepathic message to the wiry young man:
"Fecker. She a Counciller, 'r wha? Which one? 'Cause she had t' be a counciller, 'r why'd th' Templar get so mad?"The wiry young man sends you a telepathic message:
"Hodor is her name. A Viv."The wiry young man sends you a telepathic message:
"I asked for a transfer. They refused."You send a telepathic message to the wiry young man:
"I've never even feckin' -heard- o' 'er. Why th' feck---? It doesn't make a feck o' sense t' me."The wiry young man sends you a telepathic message:
"Doesn't make sense to me, either. She's Council, aye. But still a gemmer. And I thought--I thought the templar held -us- higher than those fucks. Instead, I been ordered to either be confined to barracks, or ..."The wiry young man sends you a telepathic message:
"... to lower my gaze when I see them. Not to speak with them. And not to -dare- give 'em any hassle. Like a rinthi seeing a nobleman."You send a telepathic message to the wiry young man:
"...To feckin' -lower your gaze-? I mean, feck, an insulted gemmer could do all sorts o' subtle magick shet t' ya, but th' -Templarite- is suppose t'-- Well. Th' -Lord Templar- said tha? N' Laila too?"The wiry young man sends you a telepathic message:
"Sergeant said if I fuck up one more time, I'm done. It's only on account of her that I ain't dead already."You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the wiry young man:
"Feck, Ruti. You really stepped on some toes. Ya need t' make nice wi' someone high-up."The wiry young man sends you a telepathic message:
"I'm getting close to Saya. I've asked her to put a word in for me."You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the wiry young man:
"*faint traces of alarm* Saya? Put in a wor--. Uh. Well. Tha's good."You think:
"Great. Wonderful. Just wha we need. "The wiry young man sends you a telepathic message:
"What? She -seems- a good lass."You send a telepathic message to the wiry young man:
"I'm not sayin' she isn't. I wouldn't say bad things 'bout Samos' girl."The wiry young man sends you a telepathic message:
"You don't like her? There ain't no other way I'm gonna get 'round this, not that I see."You think:
"...Yeah. Well. She feckin' scares me t' death."The wiry young man sends you a telepathic message:
"Jen. I'm putting myself forward in a way that I -never- do. If you know something against her, tell me!"You send a telepathic message to the wiry young man:
"Well. She's a good person t' have on yer side. She'll put in a good word, I'm sure."Terrible, biting sand whips around you.
Caravan Road [ESW]
Stretching itself out here is a long road, paved in rough yellowy
brown sandstone, covered with reddish dust and sand, and wide enough that at
least four caravans could pass through. The sun-browned backs of slaves
march along, carrying goods. The sky's blood-red glory shines from above
the main gate, highlighting its ominously smooth stones.
Shouts and cheers sound from a fenced hardscrabble south of here.
The tall figure in a hooded, sun-patterned aba is standing here.
- she glows with a bright light!
The wiry young man has arrived from the east.The tall figure in a hooded, sun-patterned aba keeps her hood up close.
The tall figure in a hooded, sun-patterned aba walks east.
The slender, hack-haired man blinks.
The wiry young man stops.The wiry young man asks, in sirihish:
"What the fuck was -that-?"East of here is Caravan Road.
[Near]
The thick-limbed, leather-skinned dwarf drags a cart behind him here.The wiry young man says to you, in sirihish:
"That was her. Hodor."You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette with the Way.You suffer from use of the Way.
You exclaim to the wiry young man, in sirihish:
"Hodor? Feck, she's -glowin'-!"The wiry young man says to you, in sirihish:
"Yeah. I noticed."The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman has arrived from the east.
The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman walks west.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette:
"Some fecker is goin' around -GLOWIN'- on th' streets. Think it's a gemmer named Hodor."You say to the wiry young man, in sirihish:
"Feckin' -insane-."Terrible, biting sand whips around you.
Caravan Road [EW]
Stretching itself out here is a long road, paved in rough yellowy
brown sandstone, covered with reddish dust and sand, and wide enough that at
least four caravans could pass through. The sun-browned backs of slaves
march along, carrying goods. The sky's blood-red glory shines from above
the main gate, highlighting its ominously smooth stones.
The wiry young man has arrived from the east.You ask the wiry young man, in sirihish:
"N' -you're- th' one in trouble?"The slender, hack-haired man mutters angrily.
The wiry young man says to you, in sirihish:
"But gemmers are far above me. I can't question them, not even if they're glowing with a bright light walking down the middle of Caravan Road like she was."The wiry young man sends you a telepathic message:
"I mentioned seeing a gemmer glowing with bright light, in the middle of the road. Sergeant said, "Shut the fuck up about gemmers.""The wiry young man sends you a telepathic message:
"You mention it, like you don't know I did. See what she says."You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the wiry young man:
"I already did, eh? Wayed 'er."The wiry young man sends you a telepathic message:
"What'd she say?"You send a telepathic message to the wiry young man:
"Not a feckin' word. Any idea why we're here?"The wiry young man sends you a telepathic message:
"There's something very wrong with the unit, Jen. And yeah. Some Oashi lords are stuck somewhere. Beetles and spiders all around 'em. We're waiting for morning."You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the wiry young man:
"I don't feckin' understand why th' gemmers 'r bein' allowed so loose a rein. They're -dangerous- n' they're feckin' -nothin'-, too. "The wiry young man sends you a telepathic message:
"There's something very wrong with the unit."You send a telepathic message to the wiry young man:
"Aside from th' Gemmer shet?"The wiry young man sends you a telepathic message:
"No. Just that."The tall figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba nods back and leads a yellow sunback lizard up to rest behind the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette.
Just loudly enough to carry over the noise of the street even at this early hour, the tall figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba says to the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette, in sirihish:
"Sorry about earlier."Looking over the group of soldiers, and pointedly at the wiry young man, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette asks, in sirihish:
"Doesn't look like Hodor's glowing to me, is she?"To the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette, frowning, you say, in sirihish:
"She -was- before, n' in th' -middle- o' Caravan. I saw 'er m'self."Wincing at the words, the tall figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba says to the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette, in sirihish:
"I mighta been earlier. Kolt was showin' me some shit, an' sometimes you can't see it from inside."Dipping a nod, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette says to the tall figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba, in sirihish:
"You might have been. And when I let you know, you were concerned about it, seemed to me. Like you already knew that weren't a good thing."The wiry young man sends you a telepathic message:
"She woulda trusted the word of a gemmer over the word of two soldiers, did you see that?"The slender, hack-haired man blinks.
Dipping a quick and fluid nod, the tall figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba says to the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette, in sirihish:
"'course 'tain't a good thing. Gemmers already stick enough in people's collective craw without glowin'."You send a telepathic message to the wiry young man:
"Feck, she just let a -gemmer- walk down CARAVAN's -GLOWIN'-?!"Looking over at the wiry young man and you, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette says, in sirihish:
"Most of the time, folks don't realize they're doing it. You just gotta let them know. It's like people who forget they're holding a knife."The wiry young man sends you a telepathic message:
"There is something very wrong in the unit."The wiry young man says to the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette, in sirihish:
"Yessir. Like holding a knife, sir."Sheepishly, the tall figure in a dusty hooded, sun-patterned aba says, in sirihish:
"'cept a whole lot freakier."The pale-eyed, blond-braided woman says, in sirihish:
"And knives don't make nobles freak out and demand yer head as easily."Blinking, you say, in sirihish:
"'Cuse me f' sayin', Sir, but a -gemmer- walkin' down th' street -glowin'- is gonna attract a -feckload- more o' attention."The wiry young man sends you a telepathic message:
"Like holding a knife."Lifting her eyebrows at you, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette asks you, in sirihish:
"Of course they are. But that doesn't mean they're doing it because they're a pathetic idiotic dickwad intent on killing everyone, does it?"You send a telepathic message to the wiry young man:
"I agree. Somethin' is feckin' wrong. There is -no way-. I mean--"The wiry young man sends you a telepathic message:
"Because a glowing gemmer isn't a problem until they start killing. There is something very wrong in the--fuck. You know."You say to the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette, in sirihish:
"N' th' commoners 'd know tha? She could o' incited a panic. 'Member th' boy in th' bazzar saw some gemmer re-appear? Near started a panic there."Pointedly, the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette says to you, in sirihish:
"Quit arguing with me about it. I'm saying she DIDN'T KNOW SHE WAS GLOWING. That's no reason to abuse her."The wiry young man sends you a telepathic message:
"Don't push her, Jen. Let it drop. Not a big deal. Just chuckle and shake your head."You send a telepathic message to the wiry young man:
"Sure, Laila could be concerned about th' nobles. "Dipping a nod, you say to the vibrant, jade-adorned brunette, in sirihish:
"Aye, Sir. "You send a telepathic message to the wiry young man:
"--But there is NO way she'd be li' this. No way."You send a telepathic message to the wiry young man:
"So. Th' others, are they--? I mean, they think this is normal, 'r?"The wiry young man sends you a telepathic message:
"Everyone one of 'em but me. And now you."There's been alot of talk about Magickers, and how they're treated. In this log, some of the events behind the murder of the old Vividuian pool keeper are revealed. That murder led to much OOC forum discussion, and this is an interesting history about all that.
In addition a number of factor...
Continue Reading...Zan by Rhyden
Added on Apr 26, 2009After 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...Destruction of Steinal by Tektolnes
Added on Apr 1, 2009ok heres the deal, its been more than 1 year so im posting the logs from when i got pissed and blew up steinal 4 the lulz
The mighty Tektolnes is here, draped in power and splendor because he rocks.
He is wearing a cloak of pure awesome.
He is damn fine.
>score
Your are Tektolnes, of many people (type 'tribes' to see your subjugated people).
Keywords: Tektolnes Tek Godzilla Lt. Awesomesauce
Sdesc: the mighty Tektolnes
Objective: branch
Long description: Code Generated Long Description.
You are older than everyone else, which by your race is old (but by appearance you look pretty damn fine).
You are tall, dark, and handsome.
Your strength is absolutely incredible, your agility is absolutely incredible,
your wisdom is absolutely incredible, and your endurance is absolutely incredible.
You are currently speaking sirihish with a Highlord accent.
The mighty Tektolnes says, in Highlord-accented sirihish,
"lol guys ok so how do u liek my new desc? i kept emailin teh staff till they changed it"
The black-robed templar says, out-of-character:
"Dude use ooc for ooc stuff please"
The mighty Tektolnes says, in Highlord-accented sirihish,
"dude fuck off"
The mighty Tektolnes says, in Highlord-accented sirihish,
"i have shit to do"
The mighty Tektolnes waves his hand and utters an incantation.
The black-robed templar disappears in a flash of light, leaving a pile of ash on the ground.
The mighty Tektolnes says, in Highlord-accented sirihish,
"lol"
The mighty Tektolnes says, in Highlord-accented sirihish,
"guess I better get another"
The mighty Tektolnes sends this message to the staff:
"hey guys I just vape'd a blackrobe, pls put up a new call on the bbs for one, tks"
The mighty Tektolnes checks out his profile in a small obsidian mirror.
The mighty Tektolnes wishes he had a command to express how awesome he looks right now.
A human Allanaki lackey has arrived from below.
A human Allanaki lackey says, in southern-accented sirihish,
"Highlord! Steinal has attacked our forces and...practically routed them!"
The mighty Tektolnes says, in Highlord-accented sirihish,
"dude wtf, you didn't bow or anything"
The mighty Tektolnes says, in Highlord-accented sirihish,
"i need to get better lackeys, you guys all suck"
The mighty Tektolnes says, in Highlord-accented sirihish,
"noobs"
The mighty Tektolnes is gone a bit, gotta send off mail to complain about this noob.
The mighty Tektolnes is back.
The mighty Tektolnes says, in Highlord-accented sirihish,
"aight sorry bout that, go ahead"
A human Allanaki lackey says, in southern-accented sirihish,
"They beat our forces off, but we should be able to retaliate, Highlord."
The mighty Tektolnes rolls on the floor, laughing hysterically.
The mighty Tektolnes says, in Highlord-accented sirihish,
"haha"
The mighty Tektolnes says, in Highlord-accented sirihish,
"you said beat off"
The mighty Tektolnes puts on his serious cat face.
The mighty Tektolnes says, in Highlord-accented sirihish,
"ok srsly, let's do something about this"
The mighty Tektolnes says, in Highlord-accented sirihish,
"did we post a call for an rpt?"
The human Allanaki lackey says, out-of-character:
"man you really need to differentiate between IC and OOC"
The mighty Tektolnes says, in Highlord-accented sirihish,
"im sorry"
The mighty Tektolnes says, in Highlord-accented sirihish,
"i cant hear you over my root access to ginka"
The mighty Tektolnes says, in Highlord-accented sirihish,
"continue"
The human Allanaki lackey says, out-of-character:
"they had some kind of RPT already scheduled today. some steinal party or something, a victory"
The mighty Tektolnes says, in Highlord-accented sirihish,
"let's kick some ass then"
The human Allanaki lackey says, out-of-character:
"dude we can't go crash someone else's RPT"
The human Allanaki lackey says, out-of-character:
"that's bad form"
The mighty Tektolnes says, in Highlord-accented sirihish,
"Valasaurus must be extincted, as i am sure you know"
The mighty Tektolnes says, in Highlord-accented sirihish,
"send our army to wipe out the city of Steinal"
The human Allanaki lackey says, in southern-accented sirihish,
"Highlord, we do not have an army. Steinal wiped it out."
The human Allanaki lackey says, in southern-accented sirihish,
"Many of my friends within the militia have lost their lives. They went out to war at your command and gave their lives to the cause. We are recruiting more, but..."
The human Allanaki lackey says, in southern-accented sirihish,
"...it will take a long time before we can really field the amount of soldiers we had. Our forces are cut in half. We have to leave some here to defend our city..."
The human Allanaki lackey says, in southern-accented sirihish,
"...or we might face some risk."
The mighty Tektolnes has lost link.
The mighty Tektolnes has reconnected.
The mighty Tektolnes says, in Highlord-accented sirihish,
"sry, missed that"
The mighty Tektolnes says, in Highlord-accented sirihish,
"look it doesnt matter ill go deal with it"
The mighty Tektolnes says, in Highlord-accented sirihish,
"keep the light on muthafucka"
The mighty Tektolnes waves his hand and utters an incantation.
The mighty Tektolnes disappears from view!
----------
A Massive Square
Crenellated granite and baobab balconies protruded from both the
northern and southern sides of the square, heavy canvas draped over them to keep the nobility and the highest-ranked merchants of Steinal in the shade.
Valasurus is here, addressing a lot of people.
A lot of people are here, adoring Valasurus.
Valasurus says, in Steinal-accented sirihish,
"My people, last week, our armies collided with the forces of Allanak near their black walls. I urged you to support our army's endeavor, and it has..."
Valasurus says, in Steinal-accented sirihish,
...succeeded in a strategic victory that I must report to you:
we have routed Allanak's fighting forces!"
Everyone cheers.
Valasurus says, in Steinal-accented sirihish,
"You have heard the reports of tribes taking back land stolen by the conquering rulers, Tektolnes and Muk Utep. These are not rumors; they are facts proven..."
Valasurus says, in Steinal-accented sirihish,
"...by our own exceptional display of tactics in this, the first battle of the War between Allanak and Steinal."
The air begins to blow more breezily.
People begin to be a little uncomfortable.
Valasurus says, in Steinal-accented sirihish,
"We will press our advantage soon, and destroy the will of Allanak!"
Valasurus pauses to take a breath.
Everyone cheers.
Valasurus says, in Steinal-accented sirihish,
"I promise to you that I will lead you to victory against the Black Menace of Allanak!"
The mighty Tektolnes appears in a flash of light, emerging from a bright pinpoint of a portal.
The mighty Tektolnes says, in Highlord-accented sirihish,
"sup bitches"
The mighty Tektolnes says, in Highlord-accented sirihish,
can a mutha get a mimosa in this bitch?"
Valasurus says, in Steinal-accented sirihish,
"Pride will be your destruction."
The mighty Tektolnes stares strangely at Valasurus.
The mighty Tektolnes says, in Highlord-accented sirihish,
"wat"
Valasurus says, out-of-character:
"dude how the hell did you ever get your role, you are the worst roleplayer of all time"
The mighty Tektolnes says, in Highlord-accented sirihish,
"cast mon un shut the fuck up ~Valasurus"
The mighty Tektolnes says, in Highlord-accented sirihish,
"oops, mischan"
The mighty Tektolnes waves his hand and utters an incantation.
Steinal disappears from view, leaving behind salt and sand and ash.
The mighty Tektolnes says, in Highlord-accented sirihish,
"haha, noobs"
The mighty Tektolnes rolls on the floor, laughing hysterically.
The mighty Tektolnes says, in Highlord-accented sirihish,
"steinal...more like whine all"
The mighty Tektolnes says, in Highlord-accented sirihish,
"cast mon un animate all corpse"
The mighty Tektolnes says, in Highlord-accented sirihish,
"damn it"
The mighty Tektolnes waves a hand, uttering an incantation.
Salt and sand-covered zombies arise from the ground.
The mighty Tektolnes says, in Highlord-accented sirihish,
"ok"
The mighty Tektolnes says, in Highlord-accented sirihish,
"do that michal jackson dance thing"
-----
hope u guys liekd it
-TekThe mighty Tektolnes is here, draped in power and splendor because he rocks.
He is wearing a cloak of pure awesome.
He is damn fine.
score
Your are Tektolnes, of many people (type 'tribes' to see your subjugated people).
Keywords: Tektolnes Tek Godzilla Lt. Awesomesauce
Sdesc: the mighty TektolnesContinue Reading... A Byn in the Arena by Terri
Added on Feb 11, 2009Trooper Shanli had turned down a templar's offer of employment to stay in the Byn, despite a recent demotion from Sargeant. Player of Shanli can't recall why she was demoted. The templar had brought forth someone accusing her of paying him to assault Allanak soldiers.
The white-haired blue skinned woman stops, chest heaving as she bows to the
sleek, jakhal-eyed templar.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar asks the long-armed man, in sirihish:
"Is this the one?"
A man of average height, stand atop his massive feet. His purely white
hair drips down onto his powerful shoulders and cover up his lean neck. His
enormous chest stands out from the rest of his body, showing signs of
extreme labor. Dark black skin covers his entire body and two large scars
are visible on his face. Two intriguing green eyes are set atop a large and
curved nose. Two long legs extend from his torso and are mounted on his two
massive feet. His lengthy arms, extend far below his waist and almost
reaching the knees.
The long-armed man looks relatively fit.
The long-armed man is using:
<worn on torso> a sweat-stained, simple sandcloth shirt
<worn on legs> a pair of light-brown pants
<worn on feet> a bloodied, pair of black shoes
The long-armed man looks toward you and then nods in the direction of the
sleek, jakhal-eyed templar.
You ask the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Lord Templar?"
The long-armed man trembles as a human soldier tightens her grip.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar moves to you a gentle smile on his lips.
You think:
"I'm screwed. Never trust a templar's smile."
The white-haired blue skinned woman looks from the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar
to the long-armed man.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"My Pretty Shanli, however dissapointed I may be in your decission...
you're not in trouble."
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar asks you, in sirihish:
"You know this man?"
You say to the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"No, Lord Templar. I do not know him."
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar asks you, in sirihish:
"The Byn hates the soldiers for what reason?"
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar paces about, glancing from you to the
long-armed man.
You say to the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Lord Templar? I don't know that the Byn hates soldiers at all."
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar asks you, in sirihish:
"So.. you didn't offer this man sid.. to kill a soldier in His militia?"
You say to the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"No, Lord Templar."
You think:
"Some sort of setup."
Drawing in a long sharp breath, the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar says to the
long-armed man, in sirihish:
"Sorry.."
The long-armed man mumbles something as he whimpers.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar brings his bloodied, wickedly barbed whip to
bear against the long-armed man.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed man raises a wickedly barbed whip and lashes out at
the long-armed man.
*CRACK* A long, bloody gash opens up on the long-armed man's back.
The white-haired blue skinned woman watches quietly, face neutral in
expression.
The long-armed man yells out in pain as a whip cuts through his flesh.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar asks you, in sirihish:
"Would you like the chance to avenge the lies this man has told against
the noble Byn? Specifically yourself?"
The long-armed man's eyes open and close and drool drips down on the ground.
You say to the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I'd be delighted, Milord Templar. If ya think it is appropriate."
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"He attacked soldiers of the city... and tried to cover the act by
saying that the Byn paid him."
The long-armed man twitches and whimpers as his body shivers.
The white-haired blue skinned woman rolls her eyes.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar says to the long-armed man, in sirihish:
"Not the sort of reputation the Byn needs..."
In an amused tone, you ask the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"As if the Byn gonna do somethin that stupid?"
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"Well... they did demote you.. but I consider that a far cry from blood
money against His men."
The long-armed man opens his mouth to say something, but fails as his
strength gives out.
Tilting his head, the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar asks the long-armed man, in
sirihish:
"What was that?"
You say to the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I ain't the kind ta do me Highlord that kinda dishonor, Lord Templar."
Mumbling over a few words, the long-armed man asks, in sirihish:
"yes ... a ..nnd she w..il..te..ll the ...tr . u ... truth?"
The long-armed man groans as streaks of blood flow down his back.
The white-haired blue skinned woman scowls at the long-armed man.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar asks you, in sirihish:
"Arena, public or private?"
You ask the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"How bout the arena, Lord Templar?"
The sun reaches its highest point in the sky.
A final glimmer of light marks the white moon Lirathu's slow descent.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar asks you, in sirihish:
"Public show... or private?"
You say to the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"public, Lord Templar. If it be ya will, of course."
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"Do you have weapons you can lend the accused? "
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"never mind... I'll have a couple matches before then."
You say to the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"No, Lord Templar. All I have are my own."
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"Fall in..."
You now follow the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar says to the long-armed man, in sirihish:
"Your' going to be famous... if you win"
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar walks north.
You follow the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, and walk north.
Templars' Way [NS]
Templars' Way stretches north and south through the very heart of the
crowded city. The road is made of large, black-colored stones that are
covered with dust, dung, and other unsavory materials. It passes under the
Arena's morbid shadow, a gigantic structure standing to the east. Bustling
with activity, the Commoners' Quarter lies to the west. Crowds pass along
the street, hurrying on errands and avoiding the keen-eyed glances of the
templars and soldiers who use this way.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar is standing here.
- a ball of green light floats about his head.
The thick-bearded, half giant soldier stands here.
A human soldier of Tektolnes stands here vigilantly.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the south.
The human soldier has arrived from the south.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the south, dragging the long-armed man behind.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar asks you, in sirihish:
"Oh... to the death.. or no?"
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar walks north.
You follow the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, and walk north.
Templars' Way [NS]
Templars' Way stretches north and south through the very heart of the
crowded city. The road is made of large, black-colored stones that are
covered with dust, dung, and other unsavory materials. It passes under the
Arena's morbid shadow, a gigantic structure standing to the east. Bustling
with activity, the Commoners' Quarter lies to the west. Crowds pass along
the street, hurrying on errands and avoiding the keen-eyed glances of the
templars and soldiers who use this way.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar is standing here.
- a ball of green light floats about his head.
A wide hipped, elven woman with a painted face struts, smiling at people.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the south.
The human soldier has arrived from the south.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the south, dragging the long-armed man behind.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar walks north.
You follow the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, and walk north.
Templars' Way [NS]
Templars' Way stretches north and south through the very heart of the
crowded city. The road is made of large, black-colored stones that are
covered with dust, dung, and other unsavory materials. It passes under the
Arena's morbid shadow, a gigantic structure standing to the east. Bustling
with activity, the Commoners' Quarter lies to the west. Crowds pass along
the street, hurrying on errands and avoiding the keen-eyed glances of the
templars and soldiers who use this way.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar is standing here.
- a ball of green light floats about his head.
A human soldier of Tektolnes walks along here.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the south.
The human soldier has arrived from the south.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the south, dragging the long-armed man behind.
The long-armed man raises his gaze toward the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar and almost faints, but keeps conscious.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar asks you, in sirihish:
"Or do you wish it to be a suprise?"
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar walks north.
You follow the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, and walk north.
Templars' Way [NSW]
Templars' Way stretches north and south through the very heart of the
crowded city. The road is made of large, black-colored stones that are
covered with dust, dung, and other unsavory materials. It passes under the
Arena's morbid shadow, a gigantic structure standing to the east. Bustling
with activity, the Commoners' Quarter lies to the west. Crowds pass along
the street, hurrying on errands and avoiding the keen-eyed glances of the
templars and soldiers who use this way.
To the west, Miner's Road leads into the reek and constant noise of
the Commoners' Quarter.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar is standing here.
- a ball of green light floats about his head.
A human soldier of Tektolnes stands here vigilantly.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the south.
The human soldier has arrived from the south.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the south, dragging the long-armed man behind.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar walks north.
You follow the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, and walk north.
Templars' Way [NS]
Templars' Way stretches north and south through the very heart of the
crowded city. The road is made of large, black-colored stones that are
covered with dust, dung, and other unsavory materials. It passes under the
Arena's morbid shadow, a gigantic structure standing to the east. Bustling
with activity, the Commoners' Quarter lies to the west. Crowds pass along
the street, hurrying on errands and avoiding the keen-eyed glances of the
templars and soldiers who use this way.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar is standing here.
- a ball of green light floats about his head.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the south.
The human soldier has arrived from the south.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the south, dragging the long-armed man behind.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar walks north.
You follow the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, and walk north.
Templars' Way [NS]
Templars' Way stretches north and south through the very heart of the
crowded city. The road is made of large, black-colored stones that are
covered with dust, dung, and other unsavory materials. It passes under the
Arena's morbid shadow, a gigantic structure standing to the east. Bustling
with activity, the Commoners' Quarter lies to the west. Crowds pass along
the street, hurrying on errands and avoiding the keen-eyed glances of the
templars and soldiers who use this way.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar is standing here.
- a ball of green light floats about his head.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the south.
The human soldier has arrived from the south.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the south, dragging the long-armed man behind.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar walks north.
You follow the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, and walk north.
Templars' Way [NSW]
Templars' Way stretches north and south through the very heart of the
crowded city. The road is made of large, black-colored stones that are
covered with dust, dung, and other unsavory materials. It passes under the
Arena's morbid shadow, a gigantic structure standing to the east. Bustling
with activity, the Commoners' Quarter lies to the west. Crowds pass along
the street, hurrying on errands and avoiding the keen-eyed glances of the
templars and soldiers who use this way.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar is standing here.
- a ball of green light floats about his head.
A human soldier of Tektolnes walks along here.
A dark-haired elf staggers along, carrying a load of hides.
The dark, club-footed human slave is here, dragging a boulder.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the south.
The human soldier has arrived from the south.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the south, dragging the long-armed man behind.
You say to the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Less he tells the truth, I wish ta kill him, Milord Templar"
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar lowers his head.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar walks north.
You follow the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, and walk north.
Templars' Way [NSW]
Templars' Way stretches north and south through the very heart of the
crowded city. The road is made of large, black-colored stones that are
covered with dust, dung, and other unsavory materials. It passes under the
Arena's morbid shadow, a gigantic structure standing to the east. Bustling
with activity, the Commoners' Quarter lies to the west. Crowds pass along
the street, hurrying on errands and avoiding the keen-eyed glances of the
templars and soldiers who use this way.
To the west, Stonecarver's Road leads into the reek and noise of the
commoners' quarter.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar is standing here.
- a ball of green light floats about his head.
A human soldier of Tektolnes walks along here.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the south.
The human soldier has arrived from the south.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the south, dragging the long-armed man behind.
You say to the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Unless ya do not wish it."
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar walks north.
You follow the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, and walk north.
Templars' Way [NS]
Templars' Way stretches north and south through the very heart of the
crowded city. The road is made of large, black-colored stones that are
covered with dust, dung, and other unsavory materials. It passes under the
Arena's morbid shadow, a gigantic structure standing to the east. Bustling
with activity, the Commoners' Quarter lies to the west. Crowds pass along
the street, hurrying on errands and avoiding the keen-eyed glances of the
templars and soldiers who use this way.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar is standing here.
- a ball of green light floats about his head.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the south.
The human soldier has arrived from the south.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the south, dragging the long-armed man behind.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar walks north.
You follow the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, and walk north.
Templars' Way [NES]
Templars' Way stretches north and south through the very heart of the
crowded city. The road is made of large, black-colored stones that are
covered with dust, dung, and other unsavory materials. It passes under the
Arena's morbid shadow, a gigantic structure standing to the east. Bustling
with activity, the Commoners' Quarter lies to the west. Crowds pass along
the street, hurrying on errands and avoiding the keen-eyed glances of the
templars and soldiers who use this way.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar is standing here.
- a ball of green light floats about his head.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the south.
The human soldier has arrived from the south.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the south, dragging the long-armed man behind.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar walks east.
You follow the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, and walk east.
Arena Road [EW]
Arena Road runs along the north of the Arena, home of Allanak's bloody
Games. Even from this distance, the screams of gladiators practicing inside
echo over the polished bone spikes that jut above the stone walls. The
Arena itself has a smooth, polished stone wall, engraved with a variety of
inscriptions, most of them depicting scenes from famous battles and
gladiatorial combats. On the north side of the road sits a row of subdued
looking mud brick buildings, some occupied by merchants during the Games,
and others used to store supplies or house slaves.
The road extends to the east, along the north wall of the Arena,
leading towards the vast entrance. To the west lies Templars' Way,
which leads south towards the Templars' Quarter.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar is standing here.
- a ball of green light floats about his head.
The short, thick-set templar stands here vigilantly.
The lean, brown-haired slave trots along here.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the west.
The human soldier has arrived from the west.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the west, dragging the long-armed man behind.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"It is his shame against you.... your choice."
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar walks east.
You follow the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, and walk east.
Arena Road [EW]
Arena Road runs along the north of the Arena, home of Allanak's bloody
Games. Even from this distance, the screams of gladiators practicing inside
echo over the polished bone spikes that jut above the stone walls. The
Arena itself has a smooth, polished stone wall, engraved with a variety of
inscriptions, most of them depicting scenes from famous battles and
gladiatorial combats. On the north side of the road sits a row of subdued
looking mud brick buildings, some occupied by merchants during the Games,
and others used to store supplies or house slaves.
The road extends to the east, along the north wall of the Arena,
leading towards the vast entrance. To the west lies Templars' Way,
which leads south towards the Templars' Quarter.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar is standing here.
- a ball of green light floats about his head.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the west.
The human soldier has arrived from the west.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the west, dragging the long-armed man behind.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar walks east.
You follow the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, and walk east.
Arena Road [NEW]
Arena Road runs along the north of the Arena, home of Allanak's bloody
Games. Even from this distance, the screams of gladiators practicing inside
echo over the polished bone spikes that jut above the stone walls. The
Arena itself has a smooth, polished stone wall, engraved with a variety of
inscriptions, most of them depicting scenes from famous battles and
gladiatorial combats. On the north side of the road sits a row of subdued
looking mud brick buildings, some occupied by merchants during the Games,
and others used to store supplies or house slaves.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar is standing here.
- a ball of green light floats about his head.
A squinty-eyed half elf slouches here, watching pedestrians go by.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the west.
The human soldier has arrived from the west.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the west, dragging the long-armed man behind.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar walks east.
You follow the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, and walk east.
Arena Road [NEW]
Arena Road runs along the north of the Arena, home of Allanak's bloody
Games. Even from this distance, the screams of gladiators practicing inside
echo over the polished bone spikes that jut above the stone walls. The
Arena itself has a smooth, polished stone wall, engraved with a variety of
inscriptions, most of them depicting scenes from famous battles and
gladiatorial combats. On the north side of the road sits a row of subdued
looking mud brick buildings, some occupied by merchants during the Games,
and others used to store supplies or house slaves.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar is standing here.
- a ball of green light floats about his head.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the west.
The human soldier has arrived from the west.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the west, dragging the long-armed man behind.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar walks east.
You follow the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, and walk east.
Arena Road [ESW]
Arena Road runs along the north of the Arena, home of Allanak's bloody
Games. Even from this distance, the screams of gladiators practicing inside
echo over the polished bone spikes that jut above the stone walls. The
Arena itself has a smooth, polished stone wall, engraved with a variety of
inscriptions, most of them depicting scenes from famous battles and
gladiatorial combats. On the north side of the road sits a row of subdued
looking mud brick buildings, some occupied by merchants during the Games,
and others used to store supplies or house slaves.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar is standing here.
- a ball of green light floats about his head.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the west.
The human soldier has arrived from the west.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the west, dragging the long-armed man behind.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar walks south.
You follow the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, and walk south.
The Arena Gate [NESWU]
The gate to the arena stands here, open for either a Game or a
gladitorial practice. Sturdy bars stand in front of the gritty sand of the
arena floor, restraining spectators tempted to take a more active part in
the Games. The arena itself sprawls out, its surface covered with blood-
spattered sand. Stairs leading up to the stands of the arena lie to the
east and west, exits to the training cells and cages beyond them.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar is standing here.
- a ball of green light floats about his head.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the north.
The human soldier has arrived from the north.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the north, dragging the long-armed man behind.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar walks west.
You follow the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, and walk west.
Entrance to the Stands [ESU]
A stone stairway leads up to the stands, its withered, smooth surface
having known the tread of thousands of feet. Above your head you hear
the jeers and shouts of the spectators, inciting the combatants on the
Arena floor.
A door is on the south wall, and another leads east to the
Arena entrance.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar is standing here.
- a ball of green light floats about his head.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the east.
The human soldier has arrived from the east.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the east, dragging the long-armed man behind.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar walks south.
You follow the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, and walk south.
A Torch-lit Hallway [NS]
Lit by flickering torches of styrax wood, this hallway is unfurnished.
The sounds of the stands roofing it, the cries of the arena crowds and the
constant noise of moving feet overhead, echo along its length, the
reverbations amplified by the worn stone flooring underfoot.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar is standing here.
- a ball of green light floats about his head.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the north.
The human soldier has arrived from the north.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the north, dragging the long-armed man behind.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar opens the door.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar walks south.
You follow the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, and walk south.
Entrance to the Arena Floor [NESW]
You stand at the entrance to the Arena floor, before a large
metal door through which monsters for the Games are lead through,
in order to meet death at the end of a gladiator's sword. Two doors,
set into the stone wall which holds up the Arena's underside, are
south and west of you, and a tunnel-like hallway leads north toward the
entrance to the Arena stands.
A tarnished brass chain hangs down from the ceiling.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar is standing here.
- a ball of green light floats about his head.
The flame-color haired templar stands here overlooking the arena beasts.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the north.
The human soldier has arrived from the north.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the north, dragging the long-armed man behind.
You think:
"Other fella's going to probably be a strong killer."
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar pulls on a tarnished brass chain, causing a loud bell to ring up above.
A loud bell chimes, echoing across the city.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar pulls on a tarnished brass chain, causing a loud bell to ring up above.
A loud bell chimes, echoing across the city.
You sit down and rest your tired bones.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the rugged, runic-tattooed man with the Way.
The long-armed man groans as he hears the shrill of a bell.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the rugged, runic-tattooed man:
"I need a witness. Get ta the arena as soon as ya can."
The flame-color haired templar exclaims, in sirihish:
"At once!"
The flame-color haired templar orders that the gith gladiator to be released into the arena.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the rugged, runic-tattooed man:
"I'm ta fight a man who accuses the byn of givin him money to kill soldiers"
You dissolve the psychic link.
You stop resting, and stand up.
The flame-color haired templar exclaims, in sirihish:
"At once!"
The flame-color haired templar orders that a mullish gladiator to be released into the arena.
On The Beast's Chraden: the gith gladiator parries a mullish gladiator's attack.
On The Beast's Chraden: the gith gladiator lightly slashes a mullish gladiator's body.
On The Beast's Chraden: a mullish gladiator swiftly dodges the gith gladiator's slashes.
On The Beast's Chraden: a mullish gladiator nimbly avoids the gith gladiator's circle kick.
On The Beast's Chraden: the gith gladiator slashes a mullish gladiator, barely grazing his body.
On The Beast's Chraden: a mullish gladiator nimbly avoids the gith gladiator's circle kick.
On The Beast's Chraden: a mullish gladiator swiftly dodges the gith gladiator's slashes.
On The Beast's Chraden: a mullish gladiator avoids being bashed by the gith gladiator, who loses his balance and falls.
On The Beast's Chraden: a mullish gladiator swiftly dodges the gith gladiator's slashes.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar says, in sirihish:
"I like to give them a little something to watch... before the main event"
On The Beast's Chraden: a mullish gladiator swiftly dodges the gith gladiator's slashes.
On The Beast's Chraden: a mullish gladiator swiftly dodges the gith gladiator's slashes.
On The Beast's Chraden: a mullish gladiator swiftly dodges the gith gladiator's slashes.
The white-haired blue skinned woman nods, chuckling.
On The Beast's Chraden: a mullish gladiator swiftly dodges the gith gladiator's slashes.
On The Beast's Chraden: a mullish gladiator bludgeons the gith gladiator's neck, doing horrendous damage.
On The Beast's Chraden: a mullish gladiator swiftly dodges the gith gladiator's slashes.
The long-armed man coughs.
On The Beast's Chraden: a mullish gladiator bludgeons the gith gladiator on his leg, wounding him.
On The Beast's Chraden: a mullish gladiator swiftly dodges the gith gladiator's slashes.
On The Beast's Chraden: a mullish gladiator swiftly dodges the gith gladiator's slashes.
On The Beast's Chraden: a mullish gladiator parries the gith gladiator's attack.
On The Beast's Chraden: a mullish gladiator bludgeons the gith gladiator on his foot, wounding him.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar says to the long-armed man, in sirihish:
"Don't worry... your wounds will be tended"
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar pulls on a tarnished brass chain, causing a loud bell to ring up above.
A loud bell chimes, echoing across the city.
On The Beast's Chraden: a mullish gladiator bludgeons the gith gladiator on his leg, wounding him.
On The Beast's Chraden: a mullish gladiator tries to kick the gith gladiator in the chest, but he steps aside.
On The Beast's Chraden: the gith gladiator parries a mullish gladiator's attack.
On The Beast's Chraden: a mullish gladiator knocks the gith gladiator senseless with a brutal circle kick.
On The Beast's Chraden: a bone longsword clatters to the ground as the gith gladiator releases it.
On The Beast's Chraden: the gith gladiator crumples to the ground.
On The Beast's Chraden: a mullish gladiator bludgeons the gith gladiator's head, doing horrendous damage.
On The Beast's Chraden:
The bald, pallid-skinned templar has arrived from the north.
The thick-bearded, half-giant soldier has arrived from the north.
The human soldier has arrived from the north.
You ask the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Lord Templar, ya don't give the kankdroppins that fella said any belief, do ya?"
On The Beast's Chraden: a mullish gladiator walks west.
On The Western Arena Floor: a mullish gladiator has arrived from the east.
Someone sends:
"he's LD"
The bald, pallid-skinned templar glances about slowly, his hands clasped before him.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar exclaims to the bald, pallid-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"Ahhh... Lord Kriztok!"
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar says to the bald, pallid-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"Just setting up a bit of an honor duel."
The white-haired blue skinned woman bows deeply to the bald, pallid-skinned templar.
Inclining his head as he glances to the arena floor momentarily, the bald, pallid-skinned templar asks the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Indeed? what are the stakes?"
The bald, pallid-skinned templar looks at you.
l pallid before lowering her eyes
A set of dark brown eyes peer out from sunken sockets upon this human's face. His height and weight average for a person of his race, this man's most distinctive feature is his pale white skin, almost appearing as though it lacks pigmentation of any kind. His bald head, lacking growth of any type while hair still does remain upon other parts of his body. Growing from his chin, a stiletto beard, which is long, narrow, black in color, and pointed at the end. His nose is short and pudgy and while it does not extend lengthwise very far, it still remains quite wide and pronounced. The man's limbs show what the rest of his body has already demonstrated. This man is neither overly obese, nor muscular. Instead his build nestles nicely between the two, hiding all definition of muscle while at the same time not hanging loose about him. The bald, pallid-skinned templar is in excellent condition.
The bald, pallid-skinned templar is using:
<worn on head> a blue silk hood
<worn around neck> a medallion of Tektolnes
<worn across back> a gwoshi-hide knapsack
<worn on right finger> an obsidian templar ring
<worn on left finger> a Kadian signet ring
<worn around body> a blue, hooded templar's robe
<worn on legs> a pair of blue silk pants
<worn on feet> a pair of black leather boots
The bald, pallid-skinned templar looks at the long-armed man.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar says to the bald, pallid-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"Seems this man here claims the Byn, specifically Shanli... paid him to attempt to murder a soldier."
The bald, pallid-skinned templar glances between you and the long-armed man with an extended gaze.
The long-armed man raises his weary eyes to gaze upon the bald, pallid-skinned templar.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar says to the bald, pallid-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"Shanli wishes to beat him to death, until he speaks the truth..."
With a nod as he regards the long-armed man, the bald, pallid-skinned templar says to the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Excellent, I always enjoy a good fight"
The white-haired blue skinned woman nods, giving the long-armed man a hard stare.
The long-armed man trembles as he hears the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar say a few words.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar says, in sirihish:
"Now... lets tend to those lashes."
Nodding to the long-armed man, the bald, pallid-skinned templar asks the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Are you going to give him a weapon?"
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar says to the long-armed man, in sirihish:
"He can pick from the Gith dead."
The long-armed man coughs.
With a nod, looking to the gate, the bald, pallid-skinned templar says, in sirihish:
"Pity, I was hoping to see them fight it out bare handed."
On The Western Arena Floor: a mullish gladiator walks north.
The First Chraden: a mullish gladiator has arrived from the south.
You think:
"Hope to Tek not."
Pausing, the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"Up to you..."
The bald, pallid-skinned templar says to the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"It's always pleasant to see someone killed by the raw might of the hand"
Indicating your jagged chitin scimitar, you ask the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I be a swordsman, Lords Templar. I prefer these, if I may?"
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar nods.
The long-armed man glances at a jagged chitin scimitar and trembles with fear.
The bald, pallid-skinned templar asks the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, in an unfamiliar tongue:
"Ii sis'g pu rygh uo i jepsi fkyh koy, qu uuy feryuiu lpa Bon if huslojs qvy ioouiehy wcooz?"
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar calls out for the gates of the arena to be opened.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar opens the gate.
On The Western Arena Floor: the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar opens the gate from the other side.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar says to the bald, pallid-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"We shall see..."
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar says to the bald, pallid-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"and since the only reason he picked her was because I gave him the information.... I have no reason to believe him"
The bald, pallid-skinned templar nods his head once, glancing between you and the long-armed man.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar walks east.
On The Western Arena Floor: the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar has arrived from the west.
You follow the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, and walk east.
The Arena Floor [NESW]
You are on the west side of the Arena, between the First and Third
Chradens. The screams and cheers emanating from the stands above you
further add to the deadly and decadent mood. The Arena floor is made up of
sand and rocks, as if built directly over the desert that once lay here,
and chitin spikes poke through the ground in various places, threatening
those who are more wary of their opponent than themselves.
The Arena continues to the east, and a giant iron gate lies to your
west, firmly shut, trapping you inside for the spectators' amusement.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar is standing here.
- a ball of green light floats about his head.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the west.
The human soldier has arrived from the west.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the west, dragging the long-armed man behind.
A mullish gladiator has arrived from the north.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar walks west.
You follow the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, and walk west.
Entrance to the Arena Floor [NESW]
You stand at the entrance to the Arena floor, before a large
metal door through which monsters for the Games are lead through,
in order to meet death at the end of a gladiator's sword. Two doors,
set into the stone wall which holds up the Arena's underside, are
south and west of you, and a tunnel-like hallway leads north toward the
entrance to the Arena stands.
A tarnished brass chain hangs down from the ceiling.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar is standing here.
- a ball of green light floats about his head.
A human soldier of Tektolnes stands here vigilantly.
The bald, pallid-skinned templar is standing here.
The thick-bearded, half giant soldier stands here.
The flame-color haired templar stands here overlooking the arena beasts.
On The Western Arena Floor: the half-giant soldier walks west.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the east.
On The Western Arena Floor: the human soldier walks west.
The human soldier has arrived from the east.
On The Western Arena Floor: the half-giant soldier walks west, dragging the long-armed man behind her.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the east, dragging the long-armed man behind.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar calls out for the gates of the arena to be closed.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar closes the gate.
On The Western Arena Floor: the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar closes the gate from the other side.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar dusts the flame-color haired templar off.
Entrance to the Arena Floor [NESW]
You stand at the entrance to the Arena floor, before a large
metal door through which monsters for the Games are lead through,
in order to meet death at the end of a gladiator's sword. Two doors,
set into the stone wall which holds up the Arena's underside, are
south and west of you, and a tunnel-like hallway leads north toward the
entrance to the Arena stands.
A tarnished brass chain hangs down from the ceiling.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar is standing here.
- a ball of green light floats about his head.
The long-armed man stands here, held by the half-giant soldier.
A human soldier of Tektolnes stands here vigilantly.
A half-giant soldier of Tektolnes stands here impassively.
A human soldier of Tektolnes stands here vigilantly.
The bald, pallid-skinned templar is standing here.
The thick-bearded, half giant soldier stands here.
The flame-color haired templar stands here overlooking the arena beasts.
Handlers move through the arena, corralling the occupants back into the slaves and animal pens.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar calls out for the gates of the arena to be opened.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar opens the gate.
On The Western Arena Floor: the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar opens the gate from the other side.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar walks east.
On The Western Arena Floor: the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar has arrived from the west.
You follow the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, and walk east.
The Arena Floor [NESW]
You are on the west side of the Arena, between the First and Third
Chradens. The screams and cheers emanating from the stands above you
further add to the deadly and decadent mood. The Arena floor is made up of
sand and rocks, as if built directly over the desert that once lay here,
and chitin spikes poke through the ground in various places, threatening
those who are more wary of their opponent than themselves.
The Arena continues to the east, and a giant iron gate lies to your
west, firmly shut, trapping you inside for the spectators' amusement.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar is standing here.
- a ball of green light floats about his head.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the west.
The human soldier has arrived from the west.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the west, dragging the long-armed man behind.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar walks east.
You follow the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, and walk east.
The Beast's Chraden [NESW]
You are at the Beast's Chraden, a large mound of dirt piled high in the
center of the arena. Set into the top of the mound is a reinforced
trapdoor, from which the beasts and gladiators that fight for the
entertainment of Allanak are herded out of. The ground around this chraden
is a mixture of tanned sand, and dark-red of dried blood; the tell-tale
sign of countless battles fought. The arsign of countless battles fought. The arena continues in all directions.
The body of the gith gladiator fills your nostrils with a morbid stench.
A bone longsword lies here.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar is standing here.
- a ball of green light floats about his head.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the west.
The human soldier has arrived from the west.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the west, dragging the long-armed man behind.
The bald, pallid-skinned templar has arrived from the west.
The thick-bearded, half-giant soldier has arrived from the west.
The human soldier has arrived from the west.
The white-haired blue skinned woman grins down at the dead gith.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar shouts, in sirihish:
"People of Allanak! Today we have a duel! Between one that would Slander the Byn's good name!"
The bald, pallid-skinned templar reaches up, stroking his beard as he looks to the crowd.
A loud bell chimes, echoing across the city.
A loud bell chimes, echoing across the city.
A loud bell chimes, echoing across the city.
The white-haired blue skinned woman looks over the stands calmly.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar shouts, in sirihish:
"The champion for the Byn... Trooper Shanli!"
You think:
"I wish there were Byn up there, present. I just...if I die, I want them ta see it."
The bald, pallid-skinned templar glances towards the body of the gith gladiator for a long moment as he strokes his long, slender beard.
You think:
"An if I live..I want someone ta back up me braggin."
The long-armed man chokes on his saliva as he hears the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar.
The white-haired blue skinned woman smiles.
Motiontioning to the long-armed man, the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar shouts, in sirihish:
"The man accused.. the criminal who claims the Byn hired him to assassinate soldiers.... Dirr...."
The bald, pallid-skinned templar looks at the long-armed man with a momentary gaze.
The long-armed man groans and shakes.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar picks up a bone longsword.
You think:
"Scared as a jozhal. Either he was stupid an manipulated, or he's real good an pretendin."
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"one weapon only.. keep it remotely fair."
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar gives a bone longsword to the long-armed man.
You say to the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"As ya wish, Lord Templar."
The long-armed man tries to hold on to his bone longsword.
The bald, pallid-skinned templar gathers in his blue, hooded templar's robe, striding westward along the floor.
The bald, pallid-skinned templar walks west.
The thick-bearded, half-giant soldier walks west.
The human soldier walks west.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar gives the half-giant soldier an order.
The half-giant soldier releases the long-armed man, who immediately moves away.
The long-armed man brandishes a bone longsword.
You draw a jagged chitin scimitar.
The long-armed man steps back in fear.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar looks down at the long-armed man.
The white-haired blue skinned woman salutes the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar with the your jagged chitin scimitar.
You shout in sirihish:
"For the Highlord an the T'zai Byn!"
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar shouts, in sirihish:
"In the name of the Highlord! May he with truth... force the other to yeild... or take thier life!"
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar shouts, in sirihish:
"All Hail the highlord!"
The white-haired blue skinned woman turns, watching the long-armed man.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar stops leading the white-haired blue skinned woman.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar walks west.
The half-giant soldier walks west.
The human soldier walks west.
The half-giant soldier walks west.
The long-armed man mumbles something.
You ask the long-armed man, in sirihish:
"Ya gonna tell the truth?"
The long-armed man says to you, in sirihish:
"I did ... tell it."
The white-haired blue skinned woman crouches, left side towards the long-armed man.
You say to the long-armed man, in sirihish:
"No. I never saw ya before. Nor paid ya money. Ya are a liar."
The long-armed man says to you, in sirihish:
"Ahh ... yer memory is weak."
The white-haired blue skinned woman grins.
The long-armed man says, in sirihish:
"Everything will be found .... sooner or later."
You say to the long-armed man, in sirihish:
"Come an get some, fool."
The long-armed man says, in sirihish:
"if you say so ..."
The long-armed man makes a desperate lunge at you.
You deftly parry the long-armed man's attack.
You deftly parry the long-armed man's attack.
The long-armed man slashes at you, but you dodge out of the way.
The long-armed man swings his bone longsword horizontaly slashing at you.
You deftly parry the long-armed man's attack.
The long-armed man swiftly dodges your slash.
You slash the long-armed man's arm.
The long-armed man raies his bone longsword in an overhead chop bringing it to you.
You nick the long-armed man's leg with your slash.
The white-haired blue skinned woman parries, reversing to catch the long-armed man's arm.
You deftly parry the long-armed man's attack.
You slash the long-armed man's body.
You wound the long-armed man on his head with a brutal slash.
The long-armed man swiftly dodges your slash.
The long-armed man jabs desperatly at you.
You lightly slash the long-armed man's leg.
From the stands over head the stocky, mottled man shouts, " Kick his ass! Murderize him!".
The long-armed man slashes at you, but you dodge out of the way.
You slash the long-armed man very hard on his body.
From the stands over head the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar shouts, " You have the chance to yeild the Truth!".
The long-armed man parries your attack.
The long-armed man swings back in despair.
You deftly parry the long-armed man's attack.
You say to the long-armed man, in sirihish:
"Tell the truth."
You deftly parry the long-armed man's attack.
assess long
The long-armed man is in terrible condition.
The long-armed man does not look tired.
You deftly parry the long-armed man's attack.
You land a solid slash to the long-armed man's body.
The long-armed man shouts, in sirihish:
"Alright I lied"
A loud voice booms from over head: "Shout now you lie, and you may have a chance".
The long-armed man parries your attack.
The long-armed man panics, and attempts to flee.
The long-armed man runs west.
From the stands over head the spidery, black-haired man shouts, " Kill him anyway!".
From the stands over head the stocky, mottled man shouts, " Woooo! Hit him again! Chop his head off!".
You shout in sirihish:
"He admits he lied!"
The Arena Floor [NESW]
You are on the west side of the Arena, between the First and Third
Chradens. The screams and cheers emanating from the stands above you
further add to the deadly and decadent mood. The Arena floor is made up of
sand and rocks, as if built directly over the desert that once lay here,
and chitin spikes poke through the ground in various places, threatening
those who are more wary of their opponent than themselves.
The Arena continues to the east, and a giant iron gate lies to your
west, firmly shut, trapping you insidwest, firmly shut, trapping you inside for the spectators' amusement.
The long-armed man is standing here, bleeding profusely.
The long-armed man sits down.
From the stands over head the stocky, mottled man shouts, " Kill him anyway!".
The long-armed man chokes with pain.
You say to the long-armed man, in sirihish:
"Tell em the truth"
From the stands over head the stocky, mottled man shouts, " Woooo!".
You shout in sirihish:
"What be the will of the Lord Templar?"
The long-armed man shouts, in sirihish:
"I lied .... the Byn had nothing to do with it"
From the stands over head the stocky, mottled man shouts, " Make him pay!".
The long-armed man drops his bone longsword.
The long-armed man stops using a bone longsword.
The long-armed man drops a bone longsword.
The long-armed man faints back and hits the ground.
The white-haired blue skinned woman looks around at the stands.
From the stands over head the stocky, mottled man shouts, " Make him a Byn slave!".
From the stands over head the stocky, mottled man shouts, " Then kill him!".
You sheathe a jagged chitin scimitar.
From the stands over head the stocky, mottled man shouts, " Make him bleed! I want blood!".
You shout in sirihish:
"Lord Templar, what be thy will?"
The long-armed man chokes on his own blood as it spills out of his mouth.
From the stands over head the stocky, mottled man shouts, " BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD!".
The long-armed man coughs, and blood flies in every direction.
You think:
"Now that's a fella needs a life."
From the stands over head the spidery, black-haired man shouts, " (glancing back at the templars) I'll give you five hundred coins to stick your sword into him again. That fight was pathetic!".
The white-haired blue skinned woman shrugs.
You ask the long-armed man, in sirihish:
"Why did ya accuse the Byn? An me?"
From the stands over head the stocky, mottled man shouts, " Stop talking!".
From the stands over head the stocky, mottled man shouts, " Make them fight!".
The long-armed man opens his mouthm trying to mumble out words.
assess long
The long-armed man looks near death.
The long-armed man does not look tired.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar opens the gate from the other side.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar has arrived from the west.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the west.
The human soldier has arrived from the west.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the west.
From the stands over head the stocky, mottled man shouts, " Wooo!".
Coughing, the long-armed man says, in sirihish:
"a ... lie .... to sa ... ve me..h se."
You say, in sirihish:
"I'll kill him if it is ya wish, Lord Templar"
From the stands over head the stocky, mottled man shouts, " YEAH! Execute him! Let's see some blood!".
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"His life is yours... for the insult."
The long-armed man faints back and his eyes roll closed as streaks of blood flow down his head.
You hit the long-armed man, barely grazing his body.
The long-armed man swiftly dodges your hit.
The long-armed man hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
The long-armed man hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
The long-armed man hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
The long-armed man viciously leaps toward you, but a sweat-stained, new pair of one-striped studded sleeves gets in the way.
The long-armed man deftly avoids your slow kick.
You viciously leap toward the long-armed man, but a bloodied, sweat-stained, simple sandcloth shirt gets in the way.
You hit the long-armed man, barely grazing his body.
The long-armed man hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
The long-armed man hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
The long-armed man gives out a last sighs as hee sees a blade coming.
You hit the long-armed man, barely grazing his body.
The long-armed man swiftly dodges your hit.
The long-armed man hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
The long-armed man hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
You nick the long-armed man's neck with your hit.
The long-armed man swiftly dodges your hit.
The long-armed man's attack on you is absorbed by a sweat-stained, new crimson jakhal-hide jacket.
The long-armed man hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
The long-armed man lunges at you, but his blow is deftly deflected by a sweat-stained, new pair of one-striped studded sleeves.
The long-armed man hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
From the stands over head the stocky, mottled man shouts, " Knock his block off!".
The long-armed man hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
The long-armed man hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
You hit the long-armed man, barely grazing his arm.
You hit the long-armed man, barely grazing his arm.
The long-armed man hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
The long-armed man hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
The long-armed man swiftly dodges your hit.
The long-armed man swiftly dodges your hit.
The long-armed man hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
The long-armed man hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
Your attack on the long-armed man is absorbed by a pair of light-brown pants.
You hit the long-armed man, barely grazing his leg.
The long-armed man crumples to the ground.
From the stands over head the stocky, mottled man shouts, " YEAH!!!! Woooo!".
You draw a jagged chitin scimitar.
You inflict a grievous wound on the long-armed man's neck with your slash.
From the stands over head the stocky, mottled man shouts, " WOO!!!!! Yeah!".
You behead the body of the long-armed man.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar's lips peel back to a thin smile.
You sheathe a jagged chitin scimitar.
You pick up the head of the long-armed man.
It is very light, and empty.
The bald, pallid-skinned templar has arrived from the west.
The thick-bearded, half-giant soldier has arrived from the west.
The human soldier has arrived from the west.
The white-haired blue skinned woman bows, offering the head to the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar.
As he comes to a stop, the bald, pallid-skinned templar asks the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, in an unfamiliar tongue:
"Yoa jyqi gei goe hyosj kirn fih Lajs Suhip?"
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar says to the bald, pallid-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"His life was hers.... for the insult alone.. it was thier duel."
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar says to the bald, pallid-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"Had she let him live... I would have killed him."
With a nod, the bald, pallid-skinned templar says to the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, in an unfamiliar tongue:
"Speca ad deieui heiy juoh yyio zeqotuiq."
From the stands over head the stocky, mottled man shouts, " Yeah!!! That was great!".
Softly, you say, in sirihish:
"He did attack a soldier, after all, Lords Templar. THat's jus' wrong."
From the stands over head the stocky, mottled man shouts, " More more more!".
The bald, pallid-skinned templar says to the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, in an unfamiliar tongue:
"A fyrzui gyhifoen ry ooag qajisiu sioiw ki ur eiqam I kyreuha, ojo iui iaat iuki 500 pousg sivafw ro oah."
You think:
"Bet that fella wouldn't think it was so great from in here."
The bald, pallid-skinned templar shrugs lightly, gasting a momentary glance to you.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar says to the bald, pallid-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"You are so right."
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"Come, present the head to the noble that wished you to finish the fight."
You think:
"Don't like this. Why isn't it over?"
The petite pale-skinned woman has arrived from the west.
The white-haired blue skinned woman bows to the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar.
Feathery brown hair frames the petite woman's face, falling in a tumble
over her shoulders. Eyes the hue of rich, fertile soil gaze studiously over
a narrow nose and full rosy lips. A short slender scar runs down the side
of her chin, marring her otherwise flawless cream-toned skin. Though small
in stature, she bears well-muscled yet curvaceous lines.
The petite pale-skinned woman is in excellent condition.
The petite pale-skinned woman is using:
<worn around neck> a blue ceramic charm
<worn about throat> an elegant opal brooch
<worn across back> a leather-strapped, rich purple satchel
<worn on arms> a new pair of azure-sigilled black armbands
<worn around wrist> a purple-spiralled bone bracelet
<worn around body> a black and azure hooded cloak
<worn on legs> a deep blue, split silk skirt
<worn on right ankle> a polished, opal-inset charm
<worn on feet> a new pair of knee-high black boots with azure sigils
The petite pale-skinned woman curtsies to the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar and the bald, pallid-skinned templar before approaching you.
You now follow the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar.
The white-haired blue skinned woman nods respectfully to the petite pale-skinned woman.
Holding a small purse out, the petite pale-skinned woman says to you, in sirihish:
"This is from Lord Hardestadt Oash."
The petite pale-skinned woman gives you 500 coins.
You ask the petite pale-skinned woman, in sirihish:
"Tell him he has me thanks, an I'll drink ta his health, Miss. Does Lord Oash wish the head?"
Tilting his head, the bald, pallid-skinned templar asks the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, in an unfamiliar tongue:
"Daj Losf Oihq hurjudotohzo go ujuiqhh yook gegrew?"
The white-haired blue skinned woman slips the pouch into her belt.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar shakes his head to the bald, pallid-skinned templar.
You put a pile of allanaki coins inside a leather swordbelt.
Thoughtfully, the petite pale-skinned woman says to you, in sirihish:
"I can ask him, and let you know. I'm Nari, Aid to House Oash. I didn't get your name.."
The bald, pallid-skinned templar says to the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, in an unfamiliar tongue:
"Fui ap iaamju zoet iah syax enasoquhp xig ao axykuia joagigh."
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar nods.
You say to the petite pale-skinned woman, in sirihish:
"I be Shanli, trooper of the Byn."
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar says, in sirihish:
"When you are ready to leave the Arena Floor Nari."
Smiling and inclining her head, the petite pale-skinned woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Well met then, Trooper Shanli."
Looking between the petite pale-skinned woman and you, the bald, pallid-skinned templar says, in sirihish:
"This isn't a social club."
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar walks west.
You follow the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, and walk west.
Entrance to the Arena Floor [NESW]
You stand at the entrance to the Arena floor, before a large
metal door through which monsters for the Games are lead through,
in order to meet death at the end of a gladiator's sword. Two doors,
set into the stone wall which holds up the Arena's underside, are
south and west of you, and a tunnel-like hallway leads north toward the
entrance to the Arena stands.
A tarnished brass chain hangs down from the ceiling.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar is standing here.
- a ball of green light floats about his head.
The flame-color haired templar stands here overlooking the arena beasts.
On The Western Arena Floor: the half-giant soldier walks west.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the east.
On The Western Arena Floor: the human soldier walks west.
The human soldier has arrived from the east.
On The Western Arena Floor: the half-giant soldier walks west.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the east.
On The Western Arena Floor: the bald, pallid-skinned templar walks west.
The bald, pallid-skinned templar has arrived from the east.
On The Western Arena Floor: the thick-bearded, half-giant soldier walks west.
The thick-bearded, half-giant soldier has arrived from the east.
On The Western Arena Floor: the human soldier walks west.
The human soldier has arrived from the east.
On The Western Arena Floor: the petite pale-skinned woman walks west.
The petite pale-skinned woman has arrived from the east.
The white-haired blue skinned woman chuckles softly.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar calls out for the gates of the arena to be closed.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar closes the gate.
On The Western Arena Floor: the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar closes the gate from the other side.
The petite pale-skinned woman walks north.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar says to the bald, pallid-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"Give them something that is entertaining."
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar says to the bald, pallid-skinned templar, in sirihish:
"You've such a better feel for it than I do."
With a nod, the bald, pallid-skinned templar says to the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Indeed, I'll go grab an elf from the quarter"
The bald, pallid-skinned templar says to the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I don't want to pay to release the beasts again."
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar says, in sirihish:
"Another seems willing to attack the soldiers"
The bald, pallid-skinned templar says to the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"You see, always another"
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar walks north.
You follow the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, and walk north.
A Torch-lit Hallway [NS]
Lit by flickering torches of styrax wood, this hallway is unfurnished.
The sounds of the stands roofing it, the cries of the arena crowds and the
constant noise of moving feet overhead, echo along its length, the
reverbations amplified by the worn stone flooring underfoot.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar is standing here.
- a ball of green light floats about his head.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the south.
The human soldier has arrived from the south.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the south.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar walks north.
You follow the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, and walk north.
Entrance to the Stands [ESU]
A stone stairway leads up to the stands, its withered, smooth surface
having known the tread of thousands of feet. Above your head you hear
the jeers and shouts of the spectators, inciting the combatants on the
Arena floor.
A door is on the south wall, and another leads east to the
Arena entrance.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar is standing here.
- a ball of green light floats about his head.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the south.
The human soldier has arrived from the south.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the south.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar walks east.
You follow the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, and walk east.
The Arena Gate [NESWU]
The gate to the arena stands here, open for either a Game or a
gladitorial practice. Sturdy bars stand in front of the gritty sand of the
arena floor, restraining spectators tempted to take a more active part in
the Games. The arena itself sprawls out, its surface covered with blood-
spattered sand. Stairs leading up to the stands of the arena lie to the
east and west, exits to the training cells and cages beyond them.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar is standing here.
- a ball of green light floats about his head.
The petite pale-skinned woman is standing here.
A veteran mercenary is standing here at attention.
The spidery, black-haired man is standing here.
A veteran mercenary is standing here at attention.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the west.
The human soldier has arrived from the west.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the west.
The bald, pallid-skinned templar has arrived from the west.
The thick-bearded, half-giant soldier has arrived from the west.
The human soldier has arrived from the west.
The white-haired blue skinned woman smiles at the petite pale-skinned woman.
Nodding, the petite pale-skinned woman asks the spidery, black-haired man, in sirihish:
"Saw someone, didn't get a look at him though. The big one, kind of thick around the middle, wearing the sandcloth cloak?"
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar inclines his head.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar walks north.
You follow the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, and walk north.
Arena Road [ESW]
Arena Road runs along the north of the Arena, home of Allanak's bloody
Games. Even from this distance, the screams of gladiators practicing inside
echo over the polished bone spikes that jut above the stone walls. The
Arena itself has a smooth, polished stone wall, engraved with a variety of
inscriptions, most of them depicting scenes from famous battles and
gladiatorial combats. On the north side of the road sits a row of subdued
looking mud brick buildings, some occupied by merchants during the Games,
and others used to store supplies or house slaves.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar is standing here.
- a ball of green light floats about his head.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the south.
The human soldier has arrived from the south.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the south.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar walks west.
You follow the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, and walk west.
Arena Road [NEW]
Arena Road runs along the north of the Arena, home of Allanak's bloody
Games. Even from this distance, the screams of gladiators practicing inside
echo over the polished bone spikes that jut above the stone walls. The
Arena itself has a smooth, polished stone wall, engraved with a variety of
inscriptions, most of them depicting scenes from famous battles and
gladiatorial combats. On the north side of the road sits a row of subdued
looking mud brick buildings, some occupied by merchants during the Games,
and others used to store supplies or house slaves.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar is standing here.
- a ball of green light floats about his head.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the east.
The human soldier has arrived from the east.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the east.
The stocky, mottled man has arrived from the west.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar walks west.
You follow the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, and walk west.
Arena Road [NEW]
Arena Road runs along the north of the Arena, home of Allanak's bloody
Games. Even from this distance, the screams of gladiators practicing inside
echo over the polished bone spikes that jut above the stone walls. The
Arena itself has a smooth, polished stone wall, engraved with a variety of
inscriptions, most of them depicting scenes from famous battles and
gladiatorial combats. On the north side of the road sits a row of subdued
looking mud brick buildings, some occupied by merchants during the Games,
and others used to store supplies or house slaves.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar is standing here.
- a ball of green light floats about his head.
A squinty-eyed half elf slouches here, watching pedestrians go by.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the east.
The human soldier has arrived from the east.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the east.
You follow the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, and walk west.
Arena Road [EW]
Arena Road runs along the north of the Arena, home of Allanak's bloody
Games. Even from this distance, the screams of gladiators practicing inside
echo over the polished bone spikes that jut above the stone walls. The
Arena itself has a smooth, polished stone wall, engraved with a variety of
inscriptions, most of them depicting scenes from famous battles and
gladiatorial combats. On the north side ofgladiatorial combats. On the north side of the road sits a row of subdued
looking mud brick buildings, some occupied by merchants during the Games,
and others used to store supplies or house slaves.
The road extends to the east, along the north wall of the Arena,
leading towards the vast entrance. To the west lies Templars' Way,
which leads south towards the Templars' Quarter.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar is standing here.
- a ball of green light floats about his head.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the east.
The human soldier has arrived from the east.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the east.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar walks west.
You follow the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, and walk west.
Arena Road [EW]
Arena Road runs along the north of the Arena, home of Allanak's bloody
Games. Even from this distance, the screams of gladiators practicing inside
echo over the polished bone spikes that jut above the stone walls. The
Arena itself has a smooth, polished stone wall, engraved with a variety of
inscriptions, most of them depicting scenes from famous battles and
gladiatorial combats. On the north side ofgladiatorial combats. On the north side of the road sits a row of subdued
looking mud brick buildings, some occupied by merchants during the Games,
and others used to store supplies or house slaves.
The road extends to the east, along the north wall of the Arena,
leading towards the vast entrance. To the west lies Templars' Way,
which leads south towards the Templars' Quarter.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar is standing here.
- a ball of green light floats about his head.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the east.
The human soldier has arrived from the east.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the east.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar walks west.
You follow the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, and walk west.
Templars' Way [NES]
Templars' Way stretches north and south through the very heart of the
crowded city. The road is made of large, black-colored stones that are
covered with dust, dung, and other unsavory materials. It passes under the
Arena's morbid shadow, a gigantic structure standing to the east. Bustling
with activity, the Commoners' Quarter lies to the west. Crowds pass along
the street, hurrying on errands and avoiding the keen-eyed glances of the
templars and soldiers who use this way.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar is standing here.
- a ball of green light floats about his head.
A dark-haired elf staggers along, carrying a load of hides.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the east.
The human soldier has arrived from the east.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the east.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar walks south.
You follow the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, and walk south.
Templars' Way [NS]
Templars' Way stretches north and south through the very heart of the
crowded city. The road is made of large, black-colored stones that are
covered with dust, dung, and other unsavory materials. It passes under the
Arena's morbid shadow, a gigantic structure standing to the east. Bustling
with activity, the Commoners' Quarter lies to the west. Crowds pass along
the street, hurrying on errands and avoiding the keen-eyed glances of the
templars and soldiers who use this way.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar is standing here.
- a ball of green light floats about his head.
A human soldier of Tektolnes walks along here.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the north.
The human soldier has arrived from the north.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the north.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"YOu are dismissed... you did a fine show, Shanli..."
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar says to you, in sirihish:
"Pity you consider yourself so unpolished"
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar stops leading the white-haired blue skinned woman.
You say to the sleek, jakhal-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I thank ya, for ya faith in me, Lord Templar."
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar walks south.
The half-giant soldier walks south.
The human soldier walks south.
The half-giant soldier walks south.
The white-haired blue skinned woman smiles to herself as she turns.
The Gateway to the T'zai Byn [ESW]
Massive gray stone arches mark the entrance to the T'zai Byn, also known
as the Allanaki Mercenaries' Guild. A large black banner bearing a purple
dragon hangs proudly across the thick stone wall to the north, while arches
open to the east, south, and west. A heavy wooden gate is set beneath the
eastern arch, while a small courtyard is visible through the western arch.
Warriors' Way lies to the south.
The hustle and bustle of the road to the south can be heard, and a large
amount of traffic passes in that direction. Most of the people here form a
line before the gate to the east.
The obsidian-skinned dwarf is here, holding his swords at the ready.
The solid, sun-darkened half-giant is here, looming over the crowd.
The rugged, war-braided man keeps watch over the courtyard here.
The rugged, gray-haired woman stands beside the massive gate here.
The scar-faced green elf scratches his belly as he keeps watch here.
The hulking, dark gray half-giant stands here, looking around slowly.
The obsidian-skinned dwarf watches as you approach the gate.
Ok.
The rugged, gray-haired woman and you salute each other.
A Stony Path [EW]
Small, sharp gray gravel covers the ground here, forming a path leading
east and west. To the north, a massive gray stone wall rises up perhaps
fourteen cords into the air. To the south, a massive, utilitarian-looking
stone building reaches up into the sky, with arrow slits set at regular
intervals along its length.
Warriors of all kinds walk along here, either striding along to the east
or queuing up to be let out through the gateway to the west.
The rugged, brown-haired woman stands here vigilantly, beside the gate.
The muscular, sandy-brown dwarf is standing here.
The monstrous, battle-scarred mul keeps watch over the path here.
The thick-boned half-giant is here, standing to one side of the gate.
You think:
"Wish the Lieutenant was up, so's I could report."
A Stony Path [NESW]
Small, sharp gray gravel covers the ground here, forming a path leading
east and west. To the north, the path opens up into a large, dusty yard. To
the south, a large hallway marks the entrance to a massive, utilitarian-
looking stone building.
Warriors of all kinds walk along here, either striding along to the east
or queuing up to be let out through the gateway to the west.
The bald, one-eyed man leans against the side of the hall here.
The copper-skinned, claw-scarred elf is here, watching the path.
The muscular, violet eyed woman stands here vigilantly.
The fat-headed, spear-tattooed man chuckles as he talks here.
The robust gray dwarf is standing here, watching the sky.
The Drill Yard [NESW]
This large, dusty yard is set in the middle of several buildings, most
of them fairly tall. The sand underfoot is coarse and gritty, and is caked
with sweat or blood in more than a few places. Various pieces of equipment
are scattered around the area, including some humanoid-shaped practice
targets and wooden practice weapons of all kinds. Several groups of rough-
looking mercenaries are engaged in combat drills, overseen by sergeants
barking out crisp orders, and with a lieutenant or two supervising the
overall situation in this part of the yard.
To the east is a large stone hall filled with trestle tables, and to the
south, the yard meets up with a stony path. The yard continues to the north
and west.
The graceful, golden-haired elf is here, cutting the air with her weapons.
A Stony Path [NESW]
Small, sharp gray gravel covers the ground here, forming a path leading
east and west. To the north, the path opens up into a large, dusty yard. To
the south, a large hallway marks the entrance to a massive, utilitarian-
looking stone building.
Warriors of all kinds walk along here, either striding along to the east
or queuing up to be let out through the gateway to the west.
The bald, one-eyed man leans against the side of the hall here.
The copper-skinned, claw-scarred elf is here, watching the path.
The muscular, violet eyed woman stands here vigilantly.
The fat-headed, spear-tattooed man chuckles as he talks here.
The robust gray dwarf is standing here, watching the sky.
A Large Hallway [NW]
This broad hallway opens up to a stony path to the north, and the rest
of the building to the west. The plain gray flagstones here are heavily
scuffed, with evidence of much repair work to level the stones and fill in
chips and cracks. The traffic is heavy here, with many people seeking both
entry to and exit from the building. Most are dressed in armor, but many
are instead dressed in civilian clothing. Very few would appear to be at
all wealthy.
The grizzled old man scratches at himself idly as he stands here.
The flame-haired elven woman is here, her gaze darting around alertly.
The lithe, obsidian-braided man keeps watch over the hallway here.
The silver-skinned dwarven woman stands here, looking around slowly.
The Main Barracks [EU]
This massive, two-story hall seems to have undergone heavy rebuilding
at some time in the past. Most of the vast room is open air, with the first
story above ground level being nothing more than a balcony of sorts,
several cords wide and running along the walls of the building. Both upper
and lower floors are devoid of furniture, with several hundred grimy
pallets arranged in semi-orderly rows along the walls. Solid stone stairs
lead to the upper level from the western end of the hall. Suspended from
the ceiling, more than twenty-five cords above, is a large black banner
bearing a purple dragon.
The hall appears mostly empty except for a few mercenaries here and
there, mending armor, sharpening weapons, or just talking quietly.
A multi-ringed dartboard hangs on a wall here.
The tall, cleft-lipped man is here, sleeping on a pallet.
The brown-haired, blue-eyed man looks around slowly from his pallet here.
The thin, chestnut-haired woman stands here, watching the stairs.
The grey-maned, wooden-legged man sits here, sharpening a bone-toothed saw.
The dimpled, shaven-headed man looks over a wounded mercenary here.
The Main Barracks [ND]
This massive, two-story hall seems to have undergone heavy rebuilding
at some time in the past. Most of the vast room is open air, with the first
story above ground level being nothing more than a balcony of sorts,
several cords wide and running along the walls of the building. Both upper
and lower floors are devoid of furniture, with several hundred grimy
pallets arranged in semi-orderly rows along the walls. Solid stone stairs
lead to the upper level from the western end of the hall. Suspended from
the ceiling, more than fifteen cords above, is a large black banner bearing
a purple dragon.
The hall appears mostly empty except for a few mercenaries here and
there, mending armor, sharpening weapons, or just talking quietly.
A multi-ringed dartboard hangs on a wall here.
The rugged, runic-tattooed man is sitting on a pallet here, nursing a wound.
The grizzled, long-fingered mercenary sits on a pallet here, tattooing.
You ask the rugged, runic-tattooed man, in sirihish:
"Ya awake yet?"
You think:
"Love to set this head down on his chest, so's when he wakes..."
The white-haired blue skinned woman giggles.
You say to the rugged, runic-tattooed man, in sirihish:
"I got a story ta tell ya, when ya feel up to it, Pavel."
The Main Barracks [EU]
This massive, two-story hall seems to have undergone heavy rebuilding
at some time in the past. Most of the vast room is open air, with the first
story above ground level being nothing more than a balcony of sorts,
several cords wide and running along the walls of the building. Both upper
and lower floors are devoid of furniture, with several hundred grimy
pallets arranged in semi-orderly rows along the walls. Solid stone stairs
lead to the upper level from the western end of the hall. Suspended from
the ceiling, more than twenty-five cords above, is a large black banner
bearing a purple dragon.
The hall appears mostly empty except for a few mercenaries here and
there, mending armor, sharpening weapons, or just talking quietly.
A multi-ringed dartboard hangs on a wall here.
The tall, cleft-lipped man is here, sleeping on a pallet.
The brown-haired, blue-eyed man looks around slowly from his pallet here.
The thin, chestnut-haired woman stands here, watching the stairs.
The grey-maned, wooden-legged man sits here, sharpening a bone-toothed saw.
The dimpled, shaven-headed man looks over a wounded mercenary here.
A Large Hallway [NW]
This broad hallway opens up to a stony path to the north, and the rest
of the building to the west. The plain gray flagstones here are heavily
scuffed, with evidence of much repair work to level the stones and fill in
chips and cracks. The traffic is heavy here, with many people seeking both
entry to and exit from the building. Most are dressed in armor, but many
are instead dressed in civilian clothing. Very few would appear to be at
all wealthy.
The grizzled old man scratches at himself idly as he stands here.
The flame-haired elven woman is here, her gaze darting around alertly.
The lithe, obsidian-braided man keeps watch over the hallway here.
The silver-skinned dwarven woman stands here, looking around slowly.
A Stony Path [NESW]
Small, sharp gray gravel covers the ground here, forming a path leading
east and west. To the north, the path opens up into a large, dusty yard. To
the south, a large hallway marks the entrance to a massive, utilitarian-
looking stone building.
Warriors of all kinds walk along here, either striding along to the east
or queuing up to be let out through the gateway to the west.
The bald, one-eyed man leans against the side of the hall here.
The copper-skinned, claw-scarred elf is here, watching the path.
The muscular, violet eyed woman stands here vigilantly.
The fat-headed, spear-tattooed man chuckles as he talks here.
The robust gray dwarf is standing here, watching the sky.
The Drill Yard [NESW]
This large, dusty yard is set in the middle of several buildings, most
of them fairly tall. The sand underfoot is coarse and gritty, and is caked
with sweat or blood in more than a few places. Various pieces of equipment
are scattered around the area, including some humanoid-shaped practice
targets and wooden practice weapons of all kinds. Several groups of rough-
looking mercenaries are engaged in combat drills, overseen by sergeants
barking out crisp orders, and with a lieutenant or two supervising the
overall situation in this part of the yard.
To the east is a large stone hall filled with trestle tables, and to the
south, the yard meets up with a stony path. The yard continues to the north
and west.
The graceful, golden-haired elf is here, cutting the air with her weapons.
The Drill Yard [NE]
This large, dusty yard is set in the middle of several buildings, most
of them fairly tall. The sand underfoot is coarse and gritty, and is caked
with sweat or blood in more than a few places. Various pieces of equipment
are scattered around the area, including some humanoid-shaped practice
targets and wooden practice weapons of all kinds. Several groups of rough-
looking mercenaries are engaged in combat drills, overseen by sergeants
barking out crisp orders, and with a lieutenant or two supervising the
overall situation in this part of the yard.
To the south, a thick stone wall rises many cords into the air, blocking
your view in that direction, and to the west, part of a rectangular hall
forms the border of this area. The yard continues to the north and east.
The battle-scarred, sun-bronzed man is standing here.
The muscular, gray-hued mul stands here, keeping watch over the yard.
The Drill Yard [NES]
This large, dusty yard is set in the middle of several buildings, most
of them fairly tall. The sand underfoot is coarse and gritty, and is caked
with sweat or blood in more than a few places. Various pieces of equipment
are scattered around the area, including some humanoid-shaped practice
targets and wooden practice weapons of all kinds. Several groups of rough-
looking mercenaries are engaged in combat drills, overseen by sergeants
barking out crisp orders, and with a lieutenant or two supervising the
overall situation in this part of the yard.
To the north lies a dank-looking building, from which emanates a foul
stench of some kind, and, to the west, a stone archway leads into a large
hall. The yard continues to the south and east.
The slim, clear-eyed woman works her way through a weapons drill here.
The night has begun.
You enter a stone archway.
The Exercise Hall [NS]
The walls of this large training hall are lined with sturdy shelves,
tough baobab forms the higher shelves, and plain gray stone the lower
shelves. A variety of training equipment is neatly stacked on the shelves,
mostly stone weights and heavy wooden clubs and staves. Archways to the
north and south lead into smaller halls, and an archway to the east leads
out to a large, dusty training yard.
You drop the head of the long-armed man.
Shown to room as:
The head of the long-armed man is here stuck on a spike.
The Exercise Hall [NS]
The walls of this large training hall are lined with sturdy shelves,
tough baobab forms the higher shelves, and plain gray stone the lower
shelves. A variety of training equipment is neatly stacked on the shelves,
mostly stone weights and heavy wooden clubs and staves. Archways to the
north and south lead into smaller halls, and an archway to the east leads
out to a large, dusty training yard.
The head of the long-armed man is here stuck on a spike.
The white-haired blue skinned woman pulls the head off the spike.
You think:
"I'll hang onto it for a bit, till I can show it ta people"
You pick up the head of the long-armed man.
It is very light, and empty.
The white-haired blue skinned woman stares into your head of the long-armed man's dead eyes.
Softly to the head, you ask, in sirihish:
"Why did ya lie? Did ya think it would save ya?"
You say, in sirihish:
"Shoulda used ya head. It woulda stayed on ya shoulders longer."
The white-haired blue skinned woman stops, chest heaving as she bows to the
sleek, jakhal-eyed templar.
The sleek, jakhal-eyed templar asks the long-armed man, in sirihish:
"Is this the one?"
A man of average height, stand atop his massive feet. His purely white
hair drips down onto his...
Continue Reading...Rukkian Encounter by Zoltan
Added on Dec 24, 2008Some hunters stumble upon a Rukkian with out-of-control magickal vomit powers.
Indy hunters Louas and Jurij are out with some of the members of their hunters' guild in the deep desert when a sudden storm (ie sudden crash) causes the party to scatter. Jurij is finally found by Louas and the two head out in search of the others when they hear cries for help. They go to investigate. The following is from Jurij's point of view.
Jurij, the rugged, dark-eyed dwarf
This dwarf is built like a rock. His broad, chiseled shoulders are as wide as
he is tall. His well muscled arms terminate in large, rough hands. He has
slightly bow legged, adding to his square, sturdy appearance. His face is
moderately wrinkled, showing the ravages of a lifetime of hard work and
exposure to the elements. Dark eyes stare out from under his thick brow, the
vivid whiteness of the cornea contrasting intensely with the blackness of the
iris and pupil. Between his eyes is a large, round nose that sits above a
thin-lipped mouth. The very tip of his left ear appears to have been cut off
by some past trauma.You are using:
<worn on head> a chitin-studded anakore helm
<worn around neck> a reddish-brown chitinous collar
<worn about throat> a water gourd
<slung across back> a bloodied serrated, blackened bone war-axe
<worn across back> a red-striped canvas backpack
<worn on torso> a new bloodied cuirbouilli cuirass
<worn on arms> a set of cuirbouilli sleeves
<worn around wrist> a bloodied studded bone bracer
<worn around wrist> a studded bone bracer
<worn on hands> a stained pair of chitin-plated leather gloves
<worn as belt> a leather swordbelt
<hung from belt> a razor-edged, obsidian tomahawk
<hung from belt> an obsidian-headed polished-bone mace
<worn around body> a hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth duster
<worn about waist> a pouched belt
<worn on legs> a set of cuirbouilli leg guards
<worn on right ankle> a leather and chitin strap-sheath
<worn on feet> a pair of tall, carru-hide moccasinsYou swing your legs to the side and dismount.
The very tall figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak looks down at the maimed, murky-eyed man.
You stop watching the west exit.
You begin watching the maimed, murky-eyed man.Keeping his distance, you ask the maimed, murky-eyed man, in sirihish:
"What is it?"The maimed, murky-eyed man begins to quiver on his knees, making terrible moaning sounds.
The very tall figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak intently scans the area.
The figure in a dusty hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth duster grimaces.
The very tall figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak asks the maimed, murky-eyed man, in sirihish:
"What's wrong with ya?"You lower the hood of a dusty hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth duster.
You look up at the maimed, murky-eyed man.
A great swirl of creased scar tissue disturbs the shallow wrinkles of
this man's swarthy face. The left of his nose, cheek, and forehead seem to
be the most affected and are less several large chunks of tissue and
multitudes of smaller lacerations. Underneath the damage a narrow,
economical skeletal structure of sharp angles shapes high cheekbones,
slanted eyebrows, and a square jaw and chin. The dominant tone of his skin
is a brazen brown except where linear streaks of light and dark blue arch
out along the right side of his face in trails of various lengths. His eyes
and hair are a muddy brown of varying consistency, the latter of which hangs
down around his head in a shaggy crown spreading out from a thinning patch
in the center. His body is small and lean, crafted for the swiftness and
endurance necessitated by the harsh landscapes it resembles.
The maimed, murky-eyed man is in excellent condition.The maimed, murky-eyed man is using:
<worn on head> a dusty brown sandcloth turban
<face> an angular series of light and dark blue lines
<worn around neck> a dull black gem
<worn on arms> a pair of black sandcloth sleeves
<worn around body> a dusty layered black cloak with an agate clasp
<worn on legs> a pair of trim, black sandcloth trousers
<worn on feet> a dusty pair of darkly-stained, knee-high raptor-hide bootsHe is carrying:
nothing obviousThe maimed, murky-eyed man opens his mouth at the very tall figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak, but sand flies out and splatters to the dunes.
Hopping back, you exclaim, in sirihish:
"Fuckin' Krath!"The very tall figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak swings his legs to the side and dismounts.
You exclaim to the very tall figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak, in sirihish:
"Did ya see that?!"The very tall figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak unstrap his dusty leather strapped, traveling knapsack from a war beetle's back.
The very tall figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak opens a dusty leather strapped, traveling knapsack.
The maimed, murky-eyed man begins a spell, and the earth trembles in response.
The maimed, murky-eyed man utters an incantation.
The maimed, murky-eyed man gestures, summoning food from the air itself.
A dark purple kank steak suddenly appears.The very tall figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak gets his dusty water gourd from his dusty leather strapped, traveling knapsack.
The very tall figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak closes a dusty leather strapped, traveling knapsack.
The very tall figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak straps his dusty leather strapped, traveling knapsack to a war beetle's back.
The maimed, murky-eyed man bends over and vomits a stream of sand which turns into a dark purple kank steak.
The very tall figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak drops a dusty water gourd, which settles to the sand.
The rugged, dark-eyed dwarf stumbles back towards a war beetle, mouth agape.
The maimed, murky-eyed man crashes to the dune, writhing in obvious pain.
The very tall figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak points to his dusty water gourd.
As sand spews forth from his mouth, the maimed, murky-eyed man exclaims, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"GRRREEEEEEEHHHHLLLLPPPP!!!!!!"The maimed, murky-eyed man wretches forward again.
Pointing his axe at the maimed, murky-eyed man, you ask the very tall figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak, in sirihish:
"Is -that- how Falmie made our food?"Watching the maimed, murky-eyed man with wide eyes, you exclaim, in sirihish:
"Gah!"The very tall figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak says to you, in sirihish:
"Not quite so elegantly."The maimed, murky-eyed man vomits only sand.
You begin speaking mirukkim.
The maimed, murky-eyed man crashes back to the dunes, convulsing.
Flopping down, the maimed, murky-eyed man sits down to rest.
You say, in mirukkim:
"Krath. Fucking Krath..."You begin speaking sirihish.
The very tall figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak says to the maimed, murky-eyed man, in sirihish:
"Drink the fuckin' water."You say to the very tall figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak, in sirihish:
"He won't stop pukin'... sand."Pushing up to his feet, still bent double, the maimed, murky-eyed man rises and stands.
The rugged, dark-eyed dwarf shakes his head slowly.
The sun begins its long voyage across the heavens.
The maimed, murky-eyed man begins to lumber after you, sand dribbling from his mouth in a steady stream.
You exclaim, in sirihish:
"Stay back! Stay th' -fuck- back!"The maimed, murky-eyed man begins a spell, and the earth trembles in response.
The maimed, murky-eyed man utters an incantation.
The maimed, murky-eyed man gestures, summoning food from the air itself.
A slice of gritty brown bread suddenly appears.The maimed, murky-eyed man vomits sand at your feet, which suddenly turns into a slice of gritty brown bread!
The rugged, dark-eyed dwarf's left hand darts down to his waist.
You draw an obsidian-headed polished-bone mace.
The very tall figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak picks up a dusty water gourd.
The rugged, dark-eyed dwarf stumbles back, trying to ward the maimed, murky-eyed man off with your dusty serrated, blackened bone war-axe.
The very tall figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak says to you, in sirihish:
"We'll take 'im with us."Still plodding forward, more sand draining from his mouth, the maimed, murky-eyed man exclaims to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Grrrrraaaawwwllbb!"The very tall figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak stops holding his new dusty chitin-decorated wooden shield.
The rugged, dark-eyed dwarf falls over, landing on his ass.
The very tall figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak stops holding his dusty obsidian-bladed battle axe.
You sit down.
The very tall figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak bends down near the maimed, murky-eyed man, gripping the maimed, murky-eyed man's arm.
Scrambling backward, leaving a trail on the sand, you exclaim to the very tall figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak, in sirihish:
"Louas! Ya can't be serious!"The very tall figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak subdues the maimed, murky-eyed man.
The very tall figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak says, in sirihish:
"Get up on yer kank."Slowly, you stand up.
A trickle of sand sprays onto the very tall figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak from the maimed, murky-eyed man's gaping maw.
You sheathe an obsidian-headed polished-bone mace.
The rugged, dark-eyed dwarf gropes for a war beetle's reins.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the long-limbed blue-eyed man with the Way.You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the long-limbed blue-eyed man:
"*terrified* Should we just kill this freak now?"The rugged, dark-eyed dwarf looks to the very tall figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak with wild eyes.
The very tall figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak says to you, in sirihish:
"He could be useful, let's go."You dissolve the psychic link.
The maimed, murky-eyed man wriggles in the very tall figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak's arms, kicking and bucking with waning stamina.
The rugged, dark-eyed dwarf swallows hard and finds a war beetle's reins.
You jump up onto a war beetle's back.
A short trip through the desert, then...
Wave Dunes [NESW]
Cloudy glass has fused in the sands here, forming a large deposit.
The maimed, murky-eyed man is standing here held by the very tall figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak.
A war beetle is reclining here.
- it is carrying a large bag.
The large, clean-shaven man is reclining here.
A war beetle is reclining here.
- it is carrying a large bag.
The red haired, white-pupiled woman is standing here, looking a bit winded.
A huge sandy-brown lizard stands here, foraging for food.
The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak is standing here.
- he is carrying a large bag.
A war beetle has arrived from the north.The very tall figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak exclaims, in sirihish:
"Tent!"You swing your legs to the side and dismount.
You are a little thirsty.
The wind loses some momentum.The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak gets his rope-bound, tan-colored tent from his large bag.
The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak drops a rope-bound, tan-colored tent, which settles to the sand.
The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak quickly unrolls a rope-bound, tan-colored tent and begins constructing it.
The very tall figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak releases the maimed, murky-eyed man, who immediately moves away.
You exclaim, in sirihish:
"Set up th' tent! Keep yer distance!"The very tall figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak pulls on a war beetle's reins.
A war beetle curls up on the ground.The very tall figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak attempts to grab the maimed, murky-eyed man, but he wrestles away.
The maimed, murky-eyed man sprays an unnatural amount of sand out on the ground as he collapses.
You pull on a war beetle's reins.
A war beetle curls up on the ground.The very tall figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak subdues the maimed, murky-eyed man.
The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak slings a dusty heavy bone cleaver across his back.
The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak sheathes a dusty large, yellowed bone club.
The very tall figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak enters a crude tan-colored tent.
The very tall figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak drags the maimed, murky-eyed man in as well.
You enter a crude tan-colored tent.Inside a crude tan-colored tent [Leave Save]
The maimed, murky-eyed man is standing here held by the very tall figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak.The very tall figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak releases the maimed, murky-eyed man, who immediately moves away.
The very tall figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak pushes the maimed, murky-eyed man into a corner of the tent.
The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak has entered a crude tan-colored tent.
The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak begins guarding the way out.
Sand begins to leak into the tent from the maimed, murky-eyed man's mouth and nose.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man lowers the hood of a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak.
The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak asks, in sirihish:
"What wrongs?"Crumpling to the ground, the maimed, murky-eyed man sits down to rest.
Pointing menacingly, if a little shakily, with your dusty serrated, blackened bone war-axe, you say to the maimed, murky-eyed man, in sirihish:
"Stay put. Just... stay right there."The long-limbed blue-eyed man says to the maimed, murky-eyed man, in sirihish:
"sit down."The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak looks down at the maimed, murky-eyed man.
Near the maimed, murky-eyed man, the long-limbed blue-eyed man drops his dusty water gourd.
Shaking his head, you say to the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
"I don't know what's goin' on... This freak is spewin' sand... screamin'. Krath."Reaching a hand out to the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak, his eyes pleading as sand pours from his mouth, the maimed, murky-eyed man exclaims, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Grrreeeeellllbbbb!"The long-limbed blue-eyed man exclaims to the maimed, murky-eyed man, in sirihish:
"Sit back!"The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak whispers something to the long-limbed blue-eyed man.
The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak slings a dusty heavy bone cleaver across his back.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man says to the maimed, murky-eyed man, in sirihish:
"You touch anyone and I'll let 'im rip your head off."The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak draws a large, yellowed bone club.
Sand dribbling from his mouth at an alarming rate, the maimed, murky-eyed man exclaims to the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"GRreeeelellllblblbbbb!"The rugged, dark-eyed dwarf lets out a slow breath.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man holds his new dusty chitin-decorated wooden shield.
Across the tent, the long-limbed blue-eyed man sits down.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man brandishes his dusty obsidian-bladed battle axe.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man says to the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak, in sirihish:
"If he gets up, grab him."The rugged, dark-eyed dwarf keeps station beside the tent flap, his eyes locked on the maimed, murky-eyed man.
Spasming about, the maimed, murky-eyed man rises and stands.
The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak looks down at the maimed, murky-eyed man.
The maimed, murky-eyed man shouts, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Hey! Hey!"The maimed, murky-eyed man shouts, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Help! Over here!"Gurgling, the maimed, murky-eyed man shouts, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Help!"The maimed, murky-eyed man's head lolls to the side.
Sounding as if he is choking, the maimed, murky-eyed man shouts, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Lllgggggg!!"The maimed, murky-eyed man begins to quiver on his knees, making terrible moaning sounds.
The maimed, murky-eyed man crashes to the dune, writhing in obvious pain.
As sand spews forth from his mouth, the maimed, murky-eyed man exclaims, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"GRRREEEEEEEHHHHLLLLPPPP!!!!!!"The maimed, murky-eyed man wretches forward again.
The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak hastily drops a dusty large, yellowed bone club.
The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak hastily drops a large, yellowed bone club.
The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak attempts to grab the maimed, murky-eyed man, but he wrestles away.The maimed, murky-eyed man vomits only sand.
The gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak subdues the maimed, murky-eyed man.
Gently, the gigantic and obese figure in a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak holds out the maimed, murky-eyed man.
The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant lowers the hood of a dusty desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man says to the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant, in sirihish:
"Push him back on the floor."The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant asks the maimed, murky-eyed man, in sirihish:
"Yous oks?"The maimed, murky-eyed man leaks sand from his mouth and nose onto the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant.
Nodding, the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant slowly lowers the maimed, murky-eyed man.
You say to the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant, in sirihish:
"Krath! Don't breath it in!"Writhing about, sand muffling his words, the maimed, murky-eyed man shouts, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Greeeeelllbbb!"The rugged, dark-eyed dwarf begins to dart forward but keeps his position by the tent flap.
Nodding, the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant coughs as he inhales some sand floating around the maimed, murky-eyed man.
The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant releases the maimed, murky-eyed man, who immediately moves away.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man says, in sirihish:
"I'm trying to find Kolt."The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant picks up a large, yellowed bone club.
The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant brandishes his large, yellowed bone club.
The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant picks up a dusty large, yellowed bone club.
The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant holds his dusty large, yellowed bone club.
You say to the long-limbed blue-eyed man, in sirihish:
"Alright... alright. Good idea."The maimed, murky-eyed man crashes into one side of the tent, quivering madly.
You hear a man's voice shout from outside in rinthi-accented sirihish:
"What the feck is goin on in there?"The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant coughs.
You shout in sirihish:
"I-I don't know!"As more sand spews forth, littering the floor of the tent, the maimed, murky-eyed man shouts, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"GRReeeeellllbbb!"Feeling terrified, you think:
"Fucking Krath. I can't believe this shit... I just can't believe it."You think:
"Why are we helping him?"You think:
"Why didn't we just ride on by? Fuck! -Fuck-!"The maimed, murky-eyed man appears to regain control of his writhing body and stands perfectly still.
The maimed, murky-eyed man begins a spell, and the earth trembles in response.
You think:
"And now Kolt. That fucking arrogant freak... he's going to be out here. He'll only make things worse."The maimed, murky-eyed man utters an incantation.
The maimed, murky-eyed man gestures, summoning food from the air itself.
A slice of gritty brown bread suddenly appears.The maimed, murky-eyed man bends forward, wretching over.
The maimed, murky-eyed man spews out a large amount of sand, which turns into a slice of gritty brown bread!
Grinning broadly, the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant exclaims, in sirihish:
"Wow!! Food!"The rugged, dark-eyed dwarf's jaw drops open as the maimed, murky-eyed man vomits... food.
You exclaim to the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant, in sirihish:
"Don't touch it!"Reaching foir a slice of gritty brown bread, the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant jerks his hand back.
The maimed, murky-eyed man starts to run right for you in a maddening spring, sand dropping from his mouth onto the already sandy floor.
You exclaim, in sirihish:
"Oh -fuck- no!"The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant sheathes a large, yellowed bone club.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man stands up.
The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant sheathes a dusty large, yellowed bone club.
As he charges forward, the maimed, murky-eyed man exclaims to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"GREEEEEEELLLLLBBBB!!!!"The long-limbed blue-eyed man hastily drops a new dusty chitin-decorated wooden shield.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man hastily drops a dusty obsidian-bladed battle axe.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man attempts to grab the maimed, murky-eyed man, but he wrestles away.The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant subdues the maimed, murky-eyed man.
The maimed, murky-eyed man struggles in vain against the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man picks up a new dusty chitin-decorated wooden shield.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man picks up a dusty obsidian-bladed battle axe.
The rugged, dark-eyed dwarf falls over backward, screaming.
You sit down.
The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant growls squeezing the maimed, murky-eyed man.
The maimed, murky-eyed man begins to gasp as the flow of sand is choked to a trickle.
Slowly, the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant lifts the maimed, murky-eyed man up with a massive arm.
You exclaim to the maimed, murky-eyed man, in sirihish:
"Stay... -back-!"The long-limbed blue-eyed man shouts, in sirihish:
"May as well cut some glass out there."The maimed, murky-eyed man's face pulses red with blood.
The rugged, dark-eyed dwarf trembles violently.
The maimed, murky-eyed man stares straight into the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant's eyes.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man asks the maimed, murky-eyed man, in sirihish:
"You want him to let go?"With a tight grip around the maimed, murky-eyed man, the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant says to the
long-limbed blue-eyed man, in sirihish:
"What up wid dis guy boss? "You are a little thirsty.
The maimed, murky-eyed man gags on what little sand still comes out of his mouth.
With a shaky hand, you drink the water.
You are no longer thirsty.You stand up.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man says to the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant, in sirihish:
"Keep him held down."Louas heads out the tent briefly to send their hunting companions home...
The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant asks the maimed, murky-eyed man, in sirihish:
"You oks der?"The maimed, murky-eyed man shakes his head as best he can at the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant - which isn't much.
The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant asks, in sirihish:
"We ain't mean folks. What wrong, maybe we helps?"The maimed, murky-eyed man's face begins to lose all color.
You think:
"Speak for yourself, King. This guy is freaking me the fuck out."Frowning, the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant removes the tight grip from the maimed, murky-eyed man.
The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant says to the maimed, murky-eyed man, in sirihish:
"Breath deep friend."The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant grins at the maimed, murky-eyed man.
His breathing ragged, you say to the maimed, murky-eyed man, in sirihish:
"Yeah... Just stay -calm-."The maimed, murky-eyed man chokes and sputters, though the sand has seemed to stop pouring from his orifices.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man has entered a crude tan-colored tent.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man picks up a dusty water gourd.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man asks the maimed, murky-eyed man, in sirihish:
"You want this water?"The long-limbed blue-eyed man eats his bloodied pair of firm, segmented antennae.
The maimed, murky-eyed man shakes his head at the long-limbed blue-eyed man.
The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant says to the maimed, murky-eyed man, in sirihish:
"Can yous talks?"The long-limbed blue-eyed man asks the maimed, murky-eyed man, in sirihish:
"Can you sit still?"Speech broken and mangled, the maimed, murky-eyed man exclaims to the long-limbed blue-eyed man, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Can't help! I can't!"Pleadingly, the maimed, murky-eyed man exclaims to the long-limbed blue-eyed man, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Let me go! Let me go!"Simply, the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant asks, in sirihish:
"Helps whats?"The long-limbed blue-eyed man asks the maimed, murky-eyed man, in sirihish:
"Can't help what?"You ask the long-limbed blue-eyed man, in sirihish:
"Did ya find Kolt's mind?"The long-limbed blue-eyed man nods at you.
The maimed, murky-eyed man struggles in vain against the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant.
The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant asks, in sirihish:
"Let's 'im go boss?"The rugged, dark-eyed dwarf grunts and nods.
The maimed, murky-eyed man exclaims to the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Yesss! Yes!"Narrowing his eyes, the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant asks, in sirihish:
"Or knocks 'im outs?"The long-limbed blue-eyed man shakes his head.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man asks the maimed, murky-eyed man, in sirihish:
"Where ya headed?"The maimed, murky-eyed man exclaims, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Away! Gone! Away!"The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant says, in sirihish:
"Him Siek..."The long-limbed blue-eyed man asks the maimed, murky-eyed man, in sirihish:
"Siek throw ya out because of the gem?"The maimed, murky-eyed man ceases speaking, focusing instead of wriggling out of the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant's grasp.
The maimed, murky-eyed man struggles in vain against the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant.
The rugged, dark-eyed dwarf frowns.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man asks the maimed, murky-eyed man, in sirihish:
"Away, where? To die in some hole?"The maimed, murky-eyed man struggles against the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant and breaks free.
The maimed, murky-eyed man attempts to flee.
The maimed, murky-eyed man leaves a crude tan-colored tent.You exclaim, in sirihish:
"Ah, shit!"The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant leaves a crude tan-colored tent.
Outside a crude tan-colored tent: the maimed, murky-eyed man jumps up onto a war beetle's back.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man leaves a crude tan-colored tent.
A brief struggle ensues, and the Rukkian is dragged off of Louas's beetle. They return to the tent.
The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant stops guarding the long-limbed blue-eyed man.
The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant begins guarding the way out.The long-limbed blue-eyed man exclaims to the maimed, murky-eyed man, in sirihish:
"You were stealin' a beetle!"Kicking his little feet at the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant, the maimed, murky-eyed man exclaims, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Let me go!"The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant squeezes tight on the maimed, murky-eyed man.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man exclaims, in sirihish:
"My beetle!"The long-limbed blue-eyed man brandishes his dusty obsidian-bladed battle axe.
The rugged, dark-eyed dwarf scowls.The maimed, murky-eyed man gasps for air.
The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant squeezes tighter, suddenly you hear the crunching of bones, probably ribs of the maimed, murky-eyed man.
You look up at the long-limbed blue-eyed man.
The overly long limbs of this lean blue-eyed man give him an awkward
stance. His long light brown hair is pulled back snugly into a single
flowing topknot. His youthful clean features defy the wisdom-filled blue
eyes that roam over everything with a warrior's appraisal, beneath which a
solitary tattoo of three blue tears drips down his left cheek.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man is in excellent condition.The long-limbed blue-eyed man is using:
<worn on head> a dusty cuirbouilli helmet
<worn in hair> a dusty thin leather headband
<worn on face> a dusty plain sandcloth bandana
<worn in right ear> a dusty loop of bleached bone
<worn around neck> a dusty gurth shell collar
<worn about throat> a dusty water gourd
<slung across back> a dusty ebon wood, recurve longbow
<worn on right shoulder> a dusty scrab-shell shoulder plate
<worn on left shoulder> a dusty scrab-shell shoulder plate
<worn on arms> a set of cuirbouilli sleeves
<worn around wrist> a blackened grey, chitin wrist razor
<worn around wrist> a bloodied grey, chitin wrist razor
<worn on hands> a dusty pair of anakore-claw gloves
<primary hand> a dusty obsidian-bladed battle axe
<secondary hand> a new dusty chitin-decorated wooden shield
<worn on forearms> a dusty leather and chitin strap-sheath
<worn around body> a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak
<worn on legs> a bloodied set of cuirbouilli leg guards
<worn on right ankle> a dusty small leather pouch
<worn on left ankle> a dusty small leather pouch
<worn on feet> a dusty pair of spike-toed, thigh-high leather bootsHe is carrying:
nothing obviousThe rugged, dark-eyed dwarf winces slightly.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man asks the maimed, murky-eyed man, in sirihish:
"Give a good reason quick why I don' remove your head?"The maimed, murky-eyed man yelps as things inside of him make bad noises.
With a steady grasp on the maimed, murky-eyed man, the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant growls viciously.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man says to the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant, in sirihish:
"Knock him out."You think:
"Krath, am I glad King is with us."Gasping, the maimed, murky-eyed man exclaims, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"No!"The maimed, murky-eyed man struggles in vain against the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant.
The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant draws a large, yellowed bone club.
The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant releases the maimed, murky-eyed man, who immediately moves away.A real clusterfuck ensues. The Rukkian slips out, and King accidently blocks his much smaller comrades from leaving the tent. They eventually scramble out to find...
Wave Dunes [NESW]
The maimed, murky-eyed man lays here, blood dribbling from his mouth.The rugged, dark-eyed dwarf scowls as he rides up to the maimed, murky-eyed man.
The wind changes direction.
You swing your legs to the side and dismount.
You slow down to a brisk walk.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man has arrived from the east.
A war beetle has arrived from the east.Excitedly, you ask the long-limbed blue-eyed man, in sirihish:
"Is Kolt comin' or not?"The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant has arrived from the east, riding a sandy-brown inix.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man shakes his head.
The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant asks, in sirihish:
"You gets dat tent boss?"The long-limbed blue-eyed man says to you, in sirihish:
"He's in Luirs"The long-limbed blue-eyed man nods to the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant.
The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant swings his legs to the side and dismounts.
You ask the long-limbed blue-eyed man, in sirihish:
"Did he tell ya anythin' 'bout this freak?"The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant asks, in sirihish:
"King clubs?"The long-limbed blue-eyed man gives his large, yellowed bone club to the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant.
The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant holds his large, yellowed bone club.
The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant unslings a dusty heavy bone cleaver from his back.
The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant slings a dusty heavy bone cleaver across his back.
The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant sheathes a large, yellowed bone club.
The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant subdues the maimed, murky-eyed man.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man says to you, in sirihish:
"Nothing."The rugged, dark-eyed dwarf looks the maimed, murky-eyed man over, careful to keep his distance.
The maimed, murky-eyed man sags in the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant's grasp.
You ask the long-limbed blue-eyed man, in sirihish:
"Should we just leave him out here then?"The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant asks the maimed, murky-eyed man, in sirihish:
"What wrongs?"You think:
"We should!"The long-limbed blue-eyed man says to you, in sirihish:
"I don' know."The long-limbed blue-eyed man says to you, in sirihish:
"He was yellin' for help, then running."The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant asks the maimed, murky-eyed man, in sirihish:
"How we's helps yous?".Glowering to the maimed, murky-eyed man, the long-limbed blue-eyed man says, in sirihish:
"Stealing a beetle."Shrugging, you ask the long-limbed blue-eyed man, in sirihish:
"Maybe we should drag him into 'Nak? Maybe get a reward?"The maimed, murky-eyed man lies down and falls asleep.
The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant wakes the maimed, murky-eyed man up.
The maimed, murky-eyed man's his lolls to the side. His eyes are only half-open.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man says to you, in sirihish:
"I'll ask one of the militia."The rugged, dark-eyed dwarf nods.
The rugged, dark-eyed dwarf glowers at the maimed, murky-eyed man and shakes his head slowly.
The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant looks down at the maimed, murky-eyed man.
You ask, in sirihish:
"Ya don't think he was tryin' t' run from 'Nak?"Barely above the sound of his own breathing, the maimed, murky-eyed man whispers something to the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant.
The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant whispers something to the maimed, murky-eyed man.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man asks, in sirihish:
"Baghra? Is that your name?"Grunting, you ask the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant, in sirihish:
"What'd he say?"The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant says, in sirihish:
"Him want me lets him goes."The mighty sun begins to crawl across the western sky.
The maimed, murky-eyed man whispers something to the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant.
The maimed, murky-eyed man whispers something to the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man drinks water from his dusty water gourd.
You exclaim to the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant, in sirihish:
"Don't listen t' him, King! He's tryin' some witch shit, I'm sure o' it!"The long-limbed blue-eyed man drinks water from his dusty water gourd.
The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant says to the long-limbed blue-eyed man, in sirihish:
"Him want goes."The long-limbed blue-eyed man asks the maimed, murky-eyed man, in sirihish:
"Baghra?"The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant asks the maimed, murky-eyed man, in sirihish:
"You promise not hurt me or friends?"A sandy-brown inix stretches its hind legs, arching its back.
A bit of blood dripping onto him from his mouth, the maimed, murky-eyed man whispers something to the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant.
Frowning, the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant says, in sirihish:
"Maybe him needs go baaad."The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant peers over at the long-limbed blue-eyed man.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man says to the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant, in sirihish:
"Let him go."The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant asks the maimed, murky-eyed man, in sirihish:
"You not steal no mounts?"The rugged, dark-eyed dwarf nods slowly.
The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant releases the maimed, murky-eyed man, who immediately moves away.
The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant unslings a dusty heavy bone cleaver from his back.
The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant draws a dusty large, yellowed bone club.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man jumps up onto a war beetle's back.
The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant sits down to rest.
Collapsing with a thud, the maimed, murky-eyed man lies down to rest.
The maimed, murky-eyed man shudders once.
The maimed, murky-eyed man shudders again with more intensity.
You think:
"Not again..."Struggling to his knees, the maimed, murky-eyed man rises and stands.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man says to you, in sirihish:
"Let's head back."The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant asks the maimed, murky-eyed man, in sirihish:
"You bes ok?"The rugged, dark-eyed dwarf nods to the long-limbed blue-eyed man, slowly peeling his eyes off of the maimed, murky-eyed man.
The maimed, murky-eyed man's eyes roll back into his head as he rises completely.
The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant rises from the ground, and clambers to his feet.
You stop watching the maimed, murky-eyed man.
The maimed, murky-eyed man sticks out his hands at the long-limbed blue-eyed man.
The maimed, murky-eyed man begins a spell, and the earth trembles in response.
The maimed, murky-eyed man utters an incantation.
You exclaim, in sirihish:
"What the--?!"The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant attacks the maimed, murky-eyed man.
The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant chops the maimed, murky-eyed man's body, inflicting a grievous wound.
The maimed, murky-eyed man reels from the blow.
The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant bludgeons the maimed, murky-eyed man on his arm, wounding him.The long-limbed blue-eyed man narrows his eyes at the maimed, murky-eyed man.
The maimed, murky-eyed man turns to you now.
The maimed, murky-eyed man's attack on the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant is absorbed by a bloodied gurth shell and leather vest.
The maimed, murky-eyed man is thrown backwards by the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant's vicious onslaught.
The maimed, murky-eyed man lunges at the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant, but his blow is deftly deflected by a bloodied gurth shell and leather vest.
The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant chops the maimed, murky-eyed man's head, doing horrendous damage.
The maimed, murky-eyed man cries out in pain.
The maimed, murky-eyed man crumples to the ground.The rugged, dark-eyed dwarf winces.
Growling, the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant jerks his dusty heavy bone cleaver from the body of the maimed, murky-eyed man.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man watches the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant, blowing out a breath.
The rugged, dark-eyed dwarf swallows, with extreme difficulty.
To the body of the maimed, murky-eyed man, the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant says, in sirihish:
"You never be means my boss."You ask the long-limbed blue-eyed man, in sirihish:
"Yer alright?"Lifting his dusty heavy bone cleaver, the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant rises high above the body of the maimed, murky-eyed man.
The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant removes the head from the body of the maimed, murky-eyed man.
The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant rips through the headless body of the maimed, murky-eyed man with his dusty heavy bone cleaver.
The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant peers over at the long-limbed blue-eyed man.
Plucking it off carefully, you get your dull black gem from the headless body of the maimed, murky-eyed man.
It is very light.The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant asks the long-limbed blue-eyed man, in sirihish:
"You oks boss?"The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant looks down at the long-limbed blue-eyed man.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man sighs a bit.
The rugged, dark-eyed dwarf holds your dull black gem up to inspect it.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man says, in sirihish:
"Ya, I don' know what he did."Still staring at the headless body of the maimed, murky-eyed man, the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant exclaims to the long-limbed blue-eyed man, in sirihish:
"Yah, me doesn'ts eiders. Him try kills yous!"You say to the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant, in sirihish:
"Thanks fer jumpin' in there, King."You feel your fear subside.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man swings his legs to the side and dismounts.
The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant exclaims, in sirihish:
"Him was gonna try hurt me boss!"The long-limbed blue-eyed man says, in sirihish:
"Maybe, we don' know what he was doing."Nodding slowly as he toes the headless body of the maimed, murky-eyed man over, you say to the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant, in sirihish:
"Krath..."Tilting his head, the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant says, in sirihish:
"Uhh, what? "The long-limbed blue-eyed man says to the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant, in sirihish:
"There's no way to know what he was saying, what magick."The long-limbed blue-eyed man shrugs his shoulders.
The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant picks up the head of the maimed, murky-eyed man.
You say to the long-limbed blue-eyed man, in sirihish:
"Well, he -was- spewin' sand an' food before. But..."The long-limbed blue-eyed man says to you, in sirihish:
"That was different, he was pointing to us."You say to the long-limbed blue-eyed man, in sirihish:
"He was actin' different that last time. Who knows. It's... better this way."To his head of the maimed, murky-eyed man, the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant says, in sirihish:
"You come at my boss like you was gonna hurts 'im. You shoulda went likes yah said."The rugged, dark-eyed dwarf nods.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man says to the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant, in sirihish:
"Leave it all here."The long-limbed blue-eyed man gets his dusty layered black cloak with an agate clasp from the headless body of the maimed, murky-eyed man.
The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant drops the head of the maimed, murky-eyed man, which settles to the sand.
Over a body, the long-limbed blue-eyed man drops his dusty layered black cloak with an agate clasp.
The rugged, dark-eyed dwarf frowns down at your dull black gem.
The late, red sun descends toward the western horizon.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man arranges a dusty layered black cloak with an agate clasp.
You drop a dull black gem, which settles to the sand. Shown to the room as:
A small black gem on a string of plant fibers lies here.Hanging his head, the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant asks, in sirihish:
"Did I do bad boss?"You arrange a dull black gem.
Wave Dunes [NESW]
A dull black gem lies on top of a body.
A dusty layered black cloak with an agate clasp is here over a corpse.
The head of the maimed, murky-eyed man lies here.
The headless body of the maimed, murky-eyed man lies crumpled here.
A huge sandy-brown lizard stands here, foraging for food.
The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant is standing here, looking a bit winded.
- he is carrying a large bag.
A large war beetle crawls about, struggling against its chitin harness.
- it is carrying a leather strapped, traveling knapsack.
- it is carrying a large bag.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man is standing here.
A large war beetle crawls about, struggling against its chitin harness.
- it is carrying a red-striped canvas backpack.The long-limbed blue-eyed man says to the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant, in sirihish:
"No, there's no way to know."The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant sighs.
Looking down at the headless body of the maimed, murky-eyed man, you say to the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant, in sirihish:
"Ya did th' right thing, King. I woulda done it, if I had been closer."The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant nods at you.
You say to the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant, in sirihish:
"There's no tellin' with these freaks."The long-limbed blue-eyed man jumps up onto a war beetle's back.
The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant jumps up onto a sandy-brown inix's back.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man says, in sirihish:
"We're done speakin' of it."The rugged, dark-eyed dwarf wearily pulls himself up into the saddle.
The long-limbed blue-eyed man says to the huge, scaley-skinned half-giant, in sirihish:
"Ever."The huge, scaley-skinned half-giant nods to the long-limbed blue-eyed man.
Nodding firmly, you say, in sirihish:
"Agreed."Indy hunters Louas and Jurij are out with some of the members of their hunters' guild in the deep desert when a sudden storm (ie sudden crash) causes the party to scatter. Jurij is finally found by Louas and the two head out in search of the others when they hear cries for help. They go to...
Continue Reading...The Legendary "War of the Hairs" by Djamel
Added on Nov 30, 2008An Elkinhym bard lays out an elaborate performance, characteristic of his Circle's forte, ending up in mixed reactions and some words of advice to live by!
This extraordinarily short figure seems as if someone might have
physically compressed an average-sized human into half the size. Starting
from his accordian-like multiple-folded, dusky skin, this man looks like a
child dressed as an adult. His stunted body appears wider than normal, and
his wide-paced stance adds to this effect. His hands and legs are stocky,
and the fingers are stubby little appendages, which appear incapable of
bending, on first glance. A noticeable bulge is visible in the region of
his pelvis and his butt juts out excessively in proportion to his body, as
if more fat was squeezed into that particular area. His head sits atop his
short frame, connected by a thick neck. His facial features appear as if
they are pressed against a glass pane - puffed out cheeks and a sort of a
permanent smile plastered on his partially-open mouth. A thick, felt-like
five-'o'-clock beard covers his face, ending at the temples, contrasting his
bald-shaven and polished scalp. His dark skin is covered with soft, black
hair, engulfing his arms and a little of his hands, and also evident on the
exposed part of his shoulders and neck.
The swarthy, hairy midget is in excellent condition.<worn on head> a crimson, black-trimmed fez with a silver-dyed tassel
<worn across back> a bone-studded backpack
<worn on torso> a padded, numut-adorned black linen vest
<worn on arms> a pair of voluminous, ivory silk sleeves
<worn around wrist> a studded bone bracer
<worn around wrist> a studded bone bracer
<worn on hands> a pair of chitin-plated leather gloves
<primary hand> a dark-oiled, jade-headed cane
<secondary hand> a skull-topped baton
<forearms> a tattoo of three orange triangles
<worn as belt> an ebony pouched belt
<worn about waist> a tough, grey chitin codpiece
<worn on legs> a pair of vivid orange tights
<worn on feet> a pair of turned-toe, ebony silk shoesAt your table, you say in sirihish, wagging one finger towards the jutting-chinned youth:
"You know, if we get a couple of more patrons at the bar, I'll tell you the secret story....of the War of the Hairs....."
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
At your table, the jutting-chinned youth says in southern-accented sirihish, rubbing his hands:
"Ahh, yes."
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
At your table, the jutting-chinned youth says in southern-accented sirihish, to you:
"Tell it now, my friend!"
At your table, you say in sirihish, turning around and pointing a finger at the ropy, grey-skinned man:
"Well, Gull here will have to participate as well...."
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The blond half-elf has arrived from the south.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The blond half-elf sits down at a black-painted bar.
The scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf yawns as he sits back in his seat.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The jutting-chinned youth gives a leather spice pouch to the ropy, grey-skinned man.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The wiry, stony-eyed man has arrived from above.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf looks up at the wiry, stony-eyed man.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>l
The Sun King's Sanctuary [NESWUD]
A polished, white marble floor covers the ground of this expansive
room, gleaming under the light of a large glass chandelier that hangs
overhead. A semi-circular bar, made of hard-grained wood painted a deep
black, extends from the eastern wall, several high-backed barstools sitting
around it. The walls of this room are brightly decorated, with several
elaborate paintings placed carefully for unobstructed view, and shelves
holding many exotic potted plants, blooming with bright red and white
flowers. Two large stained-glass windows, decorated with elaborate sun
symbols, adorn the northwest and southeast corners of the room.
Several decoratively carved tables fill this room, while a polished
leather couch nearly ten cords in length sprawls along the northern wall. A
stately spiral staircase sits in the center of the room, winding upwards
toward the common rooms of the second floor. The sounds of laughter and
music can be heard from a doorway along the western wall, while the scents
of cooked meat waft in from the east. A small, straight stairway sits along
the northern wall, ending at a slightly raised loft and a large carven
baobab door sits in the southern wall, leading out onto the North Road
outside.
The Tuluk bulletin board is here propped up on a stand.
The wiry, stony-eyed man is standing here.
The blond half-elf is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf is sitting at an intimate, dimly lit table.
The broad-shouldered, bulky man is here, roaming around.
The jutting-chinned youth is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The ropy, grey-skinned man is sitting at a black-painted bar.
A human Tuluki soldier is here, patrolling.
The short haired, heavy-set man stands here mug in-hand.
The tall, well-groomed man sits here on a plush couch.
The gaunt, black-haired man is here, leaning on the bar.
The long-haired, middle-aged man stands behind the counter.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>The swarthy, hairy midget nods once towards the blond half-elf.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The ropy, grey-skinned man shrugs.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The wiry, stony-eyed man stumbles down the stairs, holding his head as he makes for a black-painted bar.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The wiry, stony-eyed man sits down at a black-painted bar.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The tiny, copper-skinned, auburn-haired woman has arrived from the north.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>At your table, you say in sirihish, towards the blond half-elf:
"Oy Kali, I was just about to tell these guys my famous, War of the Hairs story...."
At your table, you say in sirihish, looking at the wiry, stony-eyed man:
"I think you've heard it before, right Jarihd?"
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The burly, sun-scorched man has arrived from the south, brushing past a giant pillar of stone at the entrance.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The burly, sun-scorched man intently scans the area.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
At your table, the blond half-elf says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Do I want to hear this?"
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
At your table, the jutting-chinned youth says in southern-accented sirihish, a broad smile upon his lips:
"Tell it Ozymar! Quit stalling!"
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The burly, sun-scorched man looks over the crowds slowly, his fierce eyes sweeping the environs like a hawk does prey.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The ropy, grey-skinned man puts a leather spice pouch inside a bone-studded backpack.
The scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf looks at the ropy, grey-skinned man.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>At your table, you say in sirihish, nodding:
"Alright, I think we have a good enough group to tell it now...."
Calling out, you say to the burly, sun-scorched man, in sirihish:
"Hey Adriean, come join us at the bar, I'm telling a secret story..."
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>l
The Sun King's Sanctuary [NESWUD]
A polished, white marble floor covers the ground of this expansive
room, gleaming under the light of a large glass chandelier that hangs
overhead. A semi-circular bar, made of hard-grained wood painted a deep
black, extends from the eastern wall, several high-backed barstools sitting
around it. The walls of this room are brightly decorated, with several
elaborate paintings placed carefully for unobstructed view, and shelves
holding many exotic potted plants, blooming with bright red and white
flowers. Two large stained-glass windows, decorated with elaborate sun
symbols, adorn the northwest and southeast corners of the room.
Several decoratively carved tables fill this room, while a polished
leather couch nearly ten cords in length sprawls along the northern wall. A
stately spiral staircase sits in the center of the room, winding upwards
toward the common rooms of the second floor. The sounds of laughter and
music can be heard from a doorway along the western wall, while the scents
of cooked meat waft in from the east. A small, straight stairway sits along
the northern wall, ending at a slightly raised loft and a large carven
baobab door sits in the southern wall, leading out onto the North Road
outside.
The Tuluk bulletin board is here propped up on a stand.
The burly, sun-scorched man is standing here.
The tiny, copper-skinned, auburn-haired woman moves easily from table to table.
The wiry, stony-eyed man is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The blond half-elf is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf is sitting at an intimate, dimly lit table.
The jutting-chinned youth is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The ropy, grey-skinned man is sitting at a black-painted bar.
A human Tuluki soldier is here, patrolling.
The short haired, heavy-set man stands here mug in-hand.
The tall, well-groomed man sits here on a plush couch.
The gaunt, black-haired man is here, leaning on the bar.
The long-haired, middle-aged man stands behind the counter.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
At your table, the blond half-elf says in northern-accented sirihish:
"This better be more cheerful then your bawdy tales"
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The jutting-chinned youth gestures invitingly to the burly, sun-scorched man.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf looks up at the burly, sun-scorched man.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
You are getting hungry.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
At your table, the wiry, stony-eyed man says in northern-accented sirihish, shaking his head, his voice hoarse:
"Don't think I heard it, Ozymar. Do tell."
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The slim, golden-haired woman has arrived from the east.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The ropy, grey-skinned man pushes off of a cushioned, black-painted barstool and rises to his feet.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>nod jarihd
You nod to him.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf gets a stiffly bristled armor brush from a fine pouched belt.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The ropy, grey-skinned man turns from the bar over to an intimate, dimly lit table.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
the scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf scrubs at a pair of scrub-camouflaged, sandcloth sleeves, cleaning it.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf puts a stiffly bristled armor brush inside a fine pouched belt.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The ropy, grey-skinned man notices the scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf and turns to a highly polished table.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The ropy, grey-skinned man sits down at a highly polished table.
At your table, you say in sirihish, rubbing his hands with glee:
"Alright folks, listen carefully, while I recount this secret....."
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The slim, golden-haired woman walks west.
At your table, you say in sirihish, slapping his hands together once and then opening both his palms:
"Have you ever heard....of the War of the Hairs?"
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The jutting-chinned youth shakes his head.
With dramatic flair, the swarthy, hairy midget squints one eye comically, and peers at the faces at the bar.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
At your table, the blond half-elf says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Was that the fashion craze for black hair?"
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The blond half-elf grins.
At your table, you say in sirihish, shaking his head and continuing:
"No no, tis much.....much deeper than that Kali....."
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf pushes off of a high backed, cushioned chair and rises to his feet.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The blond half-elf chuckles.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The scarred, ashen-skinned half-elf walks south.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
At your table, the blond half-elf says in northern-accented sirihish:
"I will refrain for further comment"
At your table, you say in sirihish, raising one finger:
"Today, I will demonstrate before you all, right here on this bar.....how a pair of hair, will fight......nay....will conduct war with each other."
At your table, you say in sirihish, pointing to the ropy, grey-skinned man and the jutting-chinned youth:
"Since Corvin and Gull are nearest to me, they will be the volunteers....."
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The slim, golden-haired woman has arrived from the west.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The jutting-chinned youth exclaims to the ropy, grey-skinned man, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Come, gull!"
The ropy, grey-skinned man pushes off of a high backed, cushioned chair and rises to his feet.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>At your table, you say in sirihish, snapping his fingers:
"But....I still need the most important ingredients."
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The ropy, grey-skinned man turns towards the oad.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The ropy, grey-skinned man stealthily moves south.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
At your table, the jutting-chinned youth says in southern-accented sirihish, glancing south:
"What the..."
The swarthy, hairy midget looks a little dumbfounded.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>l
The Sun King's Sanctuary [NESWUD]
A polished, white marble floor covers the ground of this expansive
room, gleaming under the light of a large glass chandelier that hangs
overhead. A semi-circular bar, made of hard-grained wood painted a deep
black, extends from the eastern wall, several high-backed barstools sitting
around it. The walls of this room are brightly decorated, with several
elaborate paintings placed carefully for unobstructed view, and shelves
holding many exotic potted plants, blooming with bright red and white
flowers. Two large stained-glass windows, decorated with elaborate sun
symbols, adorn the northwest and southeast corners of the room.
Several decoratively carved tables fill this room, while a polished
leather couch nearly ten cords in length sprawls along the northern wall. A
stately spiral staircase sits in the center of the room, winding upwards
toward the common rooms of the second floor. The sounds of laughter and
music can be heard from a doorway along the western wall, while the scents
of cooked meat waft in from the east. A small, straight stairway sits along
the northern wall, ending at a slightly raised loft and a large carven
baobab door sits in the southern wall, leading out onto the North Road
outside.
The Tuluk bulletin board is here propped up on a stand.
The slim, golden-haired woman is here moving about the room.
The burly, sun-scorched man is standing here.
The wiry, stony-eyed man is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The blond half-elf is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The jutting-chinned youth is sitting at a black-painted bar.
A human Tuluki soldier is here, patrolling.
The short haired, heavy-set man stands here mug in-hand.
The tall, well-groomed man sits here on a plush couch.
The gaunt, black-haired man is here, leaning on the bar.
The long-haired, middle-aged man stands behind the counter.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The burly, sun-scorched man glances to a black-painted bar, grunting as he shakes his head dizzily.
At your table, you say in sirihish, shaking his head:
"What a strange man....."
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
At your table, the blond half-elf says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Don't try to include me.."
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The burly, sun-scorched man walks over to a black-painted bar, taking a seat at the end of the long bar.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The burly, sun-scorched man sits down at a black-painted bar.
You ask the burly, sun-scorched man, in sirihish:
"Adriean, you going to join us then?"
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>You nod.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
At your table, the blond half-elf says in northern-accented sirihish:
"I ain't getting hairy with no one.."
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The jutting-chinned youth grins.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"Alright then, I'll need a new set of volunteers, Corvin and Jarihd should suffice."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"And now, the most important ingredients of this secret tale....."
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
At your table, the burly, sun-scorched man says in tribal-accented sirihish, as he sinks into the bar lazily:
"I'm here ain' I?"
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"I will need two hairs, of different colours."
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>The swarthy, hairy midget turns to stare at the blond half-elf's blond hair.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
At your table, the blond half-elf says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Not a chance"
At your table, the jutting-chinned youth says in southern-accented sirihish:
"Come now, Kali. It's only fun."
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>At your table, you say in sirihish, extending one hand, with a mock look of pleading:
"Just a single strand Kali?"
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
At your table, the blond half-elf says in northern-accented sirihish:
"I don't like this.."
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The blond half-elf pushes off of a cushioned, black-painted barstool and rises to her feet.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The blond half-elf walks south.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The burly, sun-scorched man glances out to the road, sniggering.
At your table, you say in sirihish, spreading his palms in resignation, accompanied with laughter:
"Krath, folks are mighty nervous about a story."
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>l
The Sun King's Sanctuary [NESWUD]
A polished, white marble floor covers the ground of this expansive
room, gleaming under the light of a large glass chandelier that hangs
overhead. A semi-circular bar, made of hard-grained wood painted a deep
black, extends from the eastern wall, several high-backed barstools sitting
around it. The walls of this room are brightly decorated, with several
elaborate paintings placed carefully for unobstructed view, and shelves
holding many exotic potted plants, blooming with bright red and white
flowers. Two large stained-glass windows, decorated with elaborate sun
symbols, adorn the northwest and southeast corners of the room.
Several decoratively carved tables fill this room, while a polished
leather couch nearly ten cords in length sprawls along the northern wall. A
stately spiral staircase sits in the center of the room, winding upwards
toward the common rooms of the second floor. The sounds of laughter and
music can be heard from a doorway along the western wall, while the scents
of cooked meat waft in from the east. A small, straight stairway sits along
the northern wall, ending at a slightly raised loft and a large carven
baobab door sits in the southern wall, leading out onto the North Road
outside.
The Tuluk bulletin board is here propped up on a stand.
The burly, sun-scorched man is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The wiry, stony-eyed man is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The jutting-chinned youth is sitting at a black-painted bar.
A human Tuluki soldier is here, patrolling.
The short haired, heavy-set man stands here mug in-hand.
The tall, well-groomed man sits here on a plush couch.
The gaunt, black-haired man is here, leaning on the bar.
The long-haired, middle-aged man stands behind the counter.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The wiry, stony-eyed man smirks, reaching up to pluck a strand of silky black hair from his head without a wince.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
At your table, the jutting-chinned youth says in southern-accented sirihish, glaring south:
"Hmm...no fun."
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
At your table, the wiry, stony-eyed man says in northern-accented sirihish:
"My hairs are probably hung over, like I am."
At your table, you say in sirihish, nodding as he looks at the wiry, stony-eyed man:
"Alright we have one black hair...."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"Now we need one other color"
The swarthy, hairy midget looks at the jutting-chinned youth and then to the burly, sun-scorched man.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The jutting-chinned youth pushes off of a cushioned, black-painted barstool and rises to his feet.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The jutting-chinned youth walks up.
The swarthy, hairy midget looks disappointed and sighs, rolling his eyes.
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"Damnit, now I'll have to wait until we have a couple of more people, to recount the tale."
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
At your table, the wiry, stony-eyed man says in northern-accented sirihish, laughing softly:
"People are strange, man. I'm all curious now, though."
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>At your table, you say in sirihish, towards the wiry, stony-eyed man:
"I apologize for having you pluck out your hair in vain Jarihd."
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The burly, sun-scorched man plucks a curly brown strand from his arm, passing it to you.
Through gritted teeth, the swarthy, hairy midget breathes in, nodding thoughtfully.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The burly, sun-scorched man grunts as he wipes at his arm, shaking his head.
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"ALright, I guess we can do this between the three of us....."
At your table, you say in sirihish, passing the hair back to the burly, sun-scorched man:
"Here Adriean, you hang on to that hair, while I set it up."
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The burly, sun-scorched man holds up the ugly curly dark folicle, frowning.
At your table, you say in sirihish, raising one finger:
"THe two of you must promise to me, that you will not recount this tale to anyone....as it is one of my specialities."
At your table, you say in sirihish, towards the long-haired, middle-aged bartender:
"Some wine please Clint....."
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
At your table, the wiry, stony-eyed man says in northern-accented sirihish, chuckling:
"You have my promise."
The swarthy, hairy midget gives many coins to the long-haired, middle-aged bartender in exchange for a goblet of jaluar-wine.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
At your table, the burly, sun-scorched man says in tribal-accented sirihish, snorting as he leans back into the bar with a grin:
"Fuck that. I'll tell whoever I want."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"Now, watch closely, as we get into the details..."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"I'll spill the wine here, on the bar, and make a small puddle...."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"Each of you, will then, at my signal, slip in your hairs, from opposite sides."
At your table, you say in sirihish, snapping his fingers theatrically:
"You will then observe.....to your astonishment...."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"THe hairs will first be attracted to each other, and meet each other in the center....."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"And then, suddenly, they will repel each other, declaring war!"
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The burly, sun-scorched man watches you in sombre silence.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The burly, sun-scorched man frowns thoughtfully, scratching his head as he holds the hair in his fingers.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The burly, sun-scorched man frowns thoughtfully, scratching his head as he holds the hair in his fingers.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The wiry, stony-eyed man watches you, furrowing his brow curiously.
Mutely, the swarthy, hairy midget pours some wine from the goblet, then pausing, and then pouring some more, to add to the spill.
The swarthy, hairy midget nods once in satisfaction.
At your table, you say in sirihish, raising one finger each, on either side of the barstool:
"Alright gentlemen, when I give the signal, slip in your hairs."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"Gather in closely, so that you may observe their motion...."
Nodding, the swarthy, hairy midget flips his fingers, signalling to the wiry, stony-eyed man and the burly, sun-scorched man.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The wiry, stony-eyed man holds his hand with his strand of hair ready, leaning in close to you and slipping it in at the signal.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The burly, sun-scorched man moves in close to you, hunkering over.
At your table, you say in sirihish, beckoning with his hands:
"Come close now, peer into the puddle so you can observe the hairs...."
At your table, you say in sirihish, in an excited shrill:
"Look....look.....they float towards each other.....LOOK...."
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The burly, sun-scorched man watches his hair and the wiry, stony-eyed man's hair float in the wine.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
Frowning as he watches, the burly, sun-scorched man says, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"What the.."
The swarthy, hairy midget leans backwards slightly, allowing the wiry, stony-eyed man and the burly, sun-scorched man to observe closely.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The very tall male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap has arrived from the south.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The tall figure in a hooded, brown military aba has arrived from the south.
At your table, you say in sirihish, with dramatic flare:
"And now, in just a moment, the War will begin!"
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The tall figure in a hooded, brown military aba sits down at a long, white painted table.
As both the wiry, stony-eyed man and the burly, sun-scorched man lean in over the puddle, the swarthy, hairy midget slaps the wine with an open palm, lettingthe wine splash all over their faces.
The swarthy, hairy midget lets our a roar of laughter as the wine drenches the wiry, stony-eyed man's and the burly, sun-scorched man faces.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
A deep frown settles on the burly, sun-scorched man's face as wine sluices down his face and drips onto the bar.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The wiry, stony-eyed man licks his lips, trying to catch as much wine as possible as he laughs.
At your table, you say in sirihish, licking his lip with a sly, mirthful grin:
"And that my friends....is the famous, War of the Hairs!"
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
Lunging forward and careening into a barmaid, the burly, sun-scorched man exclaims, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"You bastard!"
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
Grinning, the wiry, stony-eyed man says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"You had me all the way, you short little bastard. That was brilliant."
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The burly, sun-scorched man knocks over a stool and a set of drinks, collapsing over himself clumsily and crashing to the floor.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>Patting both the wiry, stony-eyed man's and the burly, sun-scorched man's backs playfully, the swarthy, hairymidget nods, still laughing.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
Idly, the tall figure in a hooded, brown military aba asks, in northern-accented sirihish:
"so where did the hair end up?"
You say to the burly, sun-scorched man, in sirihish:
"Allow me to make amends, and buy the two of you a drink."
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The very tall male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap runs up.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>l
The Sun King's Sanctuary [NESWUD]
A polished, white marble floor covers the ground of this expansive
room, gleaming under the light of a large glass chandelier that hangs
overhead. A semi-circular bar, made of hard-grained wood painted a deep
black, extends from the eastern wall, several high-backed barstools sitting
around it. The walls of this room are brightly decorated, with several
elaborate paintings placed carefully for unobstructed view, and shelves
holding many exotic potted plants, blooming with bright red and white
flowers. Two large stained-glass windows, decorated with elaborate sun
symbols, adorn the northwest and southeast corners of the room.
Several decoratively carved tables fill this room, while a polished
leather couch nearly ten cords in length sprawls along the northern wall. A
stately spiral staircase sits in the center of the room, winding upwards
toward the common rooms of the second floor. The sounds of laughter and
music can be heard from a doorway along the western wall, while the scents
of cooked meat waft in from the east. A small, straight stairway sits along
the northern wall, ending at a slightly raised loft and a large carven
baobab door sits in the southern wall, leading out onto the North Road
outside.
The Tuluk bulletin board is here propped up on a stand.
The tall figure in a hooded, brown military aba is sitting at a long, white painted table.
The burly, sun-scorched man is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The wiry, stony-eyed man is sitting at a black-painted bar.
A human Tuluki soldier is here, patrolling.
The short haired, heavy-set man stands here mug in-hand.
The tall, well-groomed man sits here on a plush couch.
The gaunt, black-haired man is here, leaning on the bar.
The long-haired, middle-aged man stands behind the counter.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The burly, sun-scorched man brushes some dust off his knees, cursing up at the barmaid.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
As he mops his face, the burly, sun-scorched man says, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"You played a trick..I think a -few- drinks will do to make amends.."
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The burly, sun-scorched man pushes off of a cushioned, black-painted barstool and rises to his feet.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The burly, sun-scorched man cleans his face and arm, glaring over at you.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The wiry, stony-eyed man wipes his face with the sleeve of his cloak, still chuckling.
You say, in sirihish:
"Krath mate, you dune folks are mighty uppity....relax and sit back down."
Ushering the burly, sun-scorched man's back to the bar, you say, in sirihish:
"It was but a joke...."
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
Waving a hand as he stalks off, the burly, sun-scorched man says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Bah. We cut throat over jokes."
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
Pushing a few patrons from his path, the burly, sun-scorched man walks south.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The tall figure in a hooded, brown military aba pushes off of a carved, wooden chair and rises to her feet.
At your table, you say in sirihish, shaking his head:
"What a surly bunch......"
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The tall figure in a hooded, brown military aba smiles impishly.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
At your table, the wiry, stony-eyed man says in northern-accented sirihish, snickering:
"You should keep that one for folks with good humor, Ozymar."
At your table, you say in sirihish, nodding at the wiry, stony-eyed man:
"I swear to Utep, thats the first time I've had that reaction...."
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The tall figure in a hooded, brown military aba says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Best be careful.. a mime is a terrible thing to waste.."
The swarthy, hairy midget barks out a loud laugh!
This extraordinarily short figure seems as if someone might have
physically compressed an average-sized human into half the size. Starting
from his accordian-like multiple-folded, dusky skin, this man looks like a
child dressed as an adult. His stunted body appears wider than normal, and
his...
Continue Reading...The Golden Kank, Part 2 by Tortall
Added on Oct 23, 2008The kank comes back, the very next day...
A Bedroom [W]
The woman wearing a purple and green tragedy mask looks around warily.
A golden kank trots up to you and giggles, waving an antennae.
You think:
"I hop..."
You say, in sirihish:
"You're going to get me killed."
A golden kank looks around warily and then giggles, clacking its pinchers.
A golden kank says, in sirihish, "No, you're going to get yourself killed. I'm just your...subconscious!
A golden kank giggles and trots around the room.
You exclaim, in sirihish:
"But I shouldn’t be seeing golden kanks that can talk!"
Frowning as she rubs her head, you say, in sirihish:
"I should probably not talk about it."
A golden kank stops trotting and clacks its pinchers, looking around.
A golden kank grins and looks over at you.
A golden kank says, in sirihish, "Well, you can't get rid of... yourself, can you?"
Sighing dramatically, you say, in sirihish:
"I suppose not."
Almost to herself, you say, in sirihish:
"Well, at least it's -gold-..."
You say, in sirihish:
"You need to be painted purple too. Then we'd match."
You think:
"But where to get paint..."
A golden kank giggles and trots to the bed, lying down on top of it.
A golden kank looks at you thoughtfully.
A golden kank says, in sirihish, "So...that Lord Pretarius is quite the fellow, isn't he?
A golden kank clacks its pinchers and giggles.
You say, in sirihish:
"Yes! He has all my stuff."
Pouting, you say, in sirihish:
"Be needs someone to teach him to be -nice-."
A golden kank nods and giggles.
A golden kank says, in sirihish, "Definitely lacking in the humor department, I'd say."
Her eyes lighting up, you say, in sirihish:
"Maybe -I- could do that! After all, a Fale is the best for that kind of job, wouldn't you say? Of course you would. I just said it, and since you're me..."
The tiny, gold-purple haired woman nods firmly.
A golden kank says, in sirihish, "You know what you need? A party. A great great party, wouldn't that be nifty?"
A golden kank emote nods and clacks its pinchers.
You exclaim, in sirihish:
"Yes! We need a -big- party!"
Thoughfully, you say, in sirihish:
"Although I don't think I can talk him into coming to the one I currently have planned."
A golden kank excitedly, says in sirihish, "Yes! The biggest party ever! You know… he has a big butt, Lord Pretarius does..."
A golden kank giggles and looks up thoughtfully.
Giggling, you exclaim, in sirihish:
"Lord Commander of the Butt!"
A golden kank says, in sirihish, "You know, you're more important than that old fuddy humorless big butted commander anyway!"
A golden kank emote clacks its pinchers and nods affirmatively.
A golden kank says, in sirihish, "You can throw a party this city will never forget, and get Fale in good favor, and everyone will love you and adore you!"
A golden kank jumps down from the bed and trots over to you.
You exclaim, in sirihish:
"Yes! And since -he- won't be there, he'll just look like a stick in the sand!"
A golden kank says, in sirihish, "Exactly! Now, you need to think of some really neat little things we can sell to everyone, and what foods to get, and...dances!"
A golden kank clacks its pinchers excitedly.
You say, in sirihish:
"Foods... Anything with -honey-! Those squashes are really good with honey..."
Making a face, you say, in sirihish:
"They taste -horrible- with out it."
A golden kank says, in sirihish, "You know, you could hire out that popular performing troupe to do a play or something one night of the festival!"
You say, in sirihish:
"Ohhh, yes! There's even a stage at the Barrel too! Perfect."
You say, in sirihish:
"I have such good ideas."
A golden kank says, in sirihish, "Oh, yes! Honey is the best... You should know... You are so smart!"
Nodding, you say, in sirihish:
"That's why I'm so important."
A golden kank clacks its pinchers and giggles.
A golden kank says, in sirihish, "Ok, so, you're the one to bring Fale to the glory it can be! Honey on everything! Boost morale and fun for all!"
A golden kank raises its antennae and waves it with a giggle.
Excidetly, you exclaim, in sirihish:
"Yes!"
A golden kank says, in sirihish, "Kojiro used to talk about some woman... Deihenia or something… maybe she could perform! I hear she's good!"
A golden kank trots around the room, slowly fizzling out of view.
You say, in sirihish:
"Deihenia? Hum... Never heard of her! But I shall... Find her."
.
The tiny, gold-purple haired woman looks around and shrugs.
You feel a slight tingling sensation in your head, which dissolves.
The tiny, gold-purple haired woman blinks at the purple-dreadlocked, dark-skinned woman and the green-haired, green tattooed man as they stare at you.
You ask, in sirihish:
"What? You've never talked to yourself before?"
The tiny, gold-purple haired woman humfs softly, moving to the door.
A Bedroom [W]
The woman wearing a purple and green tragedy mask looks around warily.
A golden kank trots up to you and giggles, waving an antennae.
You think:
"I hop..."
You say, in sirihish:
"You're going to get me killed."
A golden kank looks around warily...
Continue Reading...Dragon Killer by Tisiphone
Added on Jan 18, 2008In this log, my sixth character, a dwarf named Monta, tries to claim steel from the back of the Dragon on Allanak's walls, and gets what's coming to him.
In this log, my dwarf, Monta, has a focus of gaining a steel breastplate and sword to go kill all of the mekillots, who killed his father. He's from Red Storm, not a particularly bright fellow, and has just found out that the dragon overhanging Caravan gate is made entirely out of steel. He had joined the Byn, figuring that even with a steel breastplate and sword he'd need to be a good fighter, and besides, they had the best offer on 'sid, which he'd need to buy the aforementioned. This is an early character, my sixth. The rugged, brown-haired woman closes the gate. The rugged, brown-haired woman watches as you approach the gate. Ok. The rugged, brown-haired woman closes the gate. The monstrous, battle-scarred mul and you salute each other. Stinging sand swirls around you. The gate seems to be closed. A Stony Path [EW] Small, sharp gray gravel covers the ground here, forming a path leading east and west. To the north, a massive gray stone wall rises up perhaps fourteen cords into the air. To the south, a massive, utilitarian-looking stone building reaches up into the sky, with arrow slits set at regular intervals along its length. Warriors of all kinds walk along here, either striding along to the east or queuing up to be let out through the gateway to the west. The rugged, brown-haired woman stands here vigilantly, beside the gate. The thick-boned half-giant is here, standing to one side of the gate. The monstrous, battle-scarred mul keeps watch over the path here. The muscular, sandy-brown dwarf is standing here. The monstrous, battle-scarred mul and you salute each other. Stinging sand swirls around you. The gate seems to be closed. The rugged, brown-haired woman watches as you approach the gate. Ok. The monstrous, battle-scarred mul and you salute each other. Stinging sand swirls around you. The Gateway to the T'zai Byn [ESW] Massive gray stone arches mark the entrance to the T'zai Byn, also known as the Allanaki Mercenaries' Guild. A large black banner bearing a purple dragon hangs proudly across the thick stone wall to the north, while arches open to the east, south, and west. A heavy bone gate is set beneath the eastern arch, while a small courtyard is visible through the western arch. Warriors' Way lies to the south. The hustle and bustle of the road to the south can be heard, and a large amount of traffic passes in that direction. Most of the people here form a line before the gate to the east. The obsidian-skinned dwarf is here, holding his swords at the ready. The hulking, ashen-skinned half-giant stands here, looking around slowly. The scar-faced green elf scratches his belly as he keeps watch here. The robust, grey-haired woman stands beside the massive gate here. The rugged, war-braided man stands here, watching the gates. The solid, sun-darkened half-giant is here, looming over the crowd. Stinging sand swirls around you. The Meeting of the Road of Slaves and Warriors' Way [NSW] Here the dusty street used as a slave market by Allanak's slavers ends as it meets the short road known as Warriors' Way, which leads between the Mercenaries' Guild and Allanak's Main Bazaar. The massive stone archway to the north leads into a courtyard which marks the entrance to the T'zai Byn of Allanak. Triangular clay pipes jut unevenly from a depression here, caked with filth. A noble's servant slips through the crowds, walking swiftly. You raise the hood of a hooded, brown military aba. The figure in a hooded, brown military aba pushes through against the crowd and sand, apparently unperturbed, keeping your eyes down. You think: "Need a chisel. Or a pick." Monta proceeds to the mining shop in Allank to procure these. .... The Road of Slaves [NEW] This dusty street is used as a slave market by Allanak's slavers, for the major Merchant Houses fear that slaves in the bazaar would drive away business. The Merchants' Quarter itself is past a row of shops whose backs now face the south side of the road. Along the north side of the road are a few stone platforms from which slaves are auctioned off daily, surrounded by commoners and nobles alike, attempting to outbid one another. A small, rickety slave pen sits on the northwest side of the street. The figure in a hooded, brown military aba pushes through the crowds, leaving small eddies of people. Stinging sand swirls around you. The Road of Slaves [EW] This dusty street is used as a slave market by Allanak's slavers, for the major Merchant Houses fear that slaves in the bazaar would drive away business. The Merchants' Quarter itself is past a row of shops whose backs now face the south side of the road. Along the north side of the road are a few stone platforms from which slaves are auctioned off daily, surrounded by commoners and nobles alike, attempting to outbid one another. ... You think: "And water...well, feck food. Too late." You think: "I got those tubers." Stinging sand swirls around you. Tradesmen's Street [NS] This street flanks the west side of the Merchants' Quarter, and is where most merchants from outside the city go to sell their goods. Oddly-decorated caravans and wagons are parked along the edge of the street, which bustles with activity, as traders carry their goods into the chaos of the Main Bazaar. Here and there, traders stop members of the passing crowd, trying to convince them of the veracity of a crude map purporting to show Steinal's whereabouts or the mystic powers of an oddly carved bone flute. A tilt-nosed, sly-eyed elf stands hawking treasure maps. The crooked-backed pale woman is hunched over a bucket. ... Stinging sand swirls around you. Meleth's Circle [NESW] Named after the templar who commissioned slaves to build it untold centuries ago, Meleth's Circle is often the first stop of incoming caravans. The stones on the ground here, each more than a meter across, form a large hexagonal pattern. A multitude of people crowd the circle, members of all social classes. Great, rough blocks of obsidian thrust themselves out of the ground to the southwest to form a jagged temple that takes up nearly half of the circle, absorbing Suk-Krath's harsh rays and cooling the surrounding area with its dull blackness. The circle branches onto a busy road to the north and continues on to the south and west, while Allanak's busy Main Bazaar lies to the east. A human soldier of Tektolnes walks along here. A droopy-eyed, double-chinned servant walks by, head down as he mutters. A slick-haired merchant with widely gapped teeth hawks rugs nearby. A team of slaves works here, clearing sand from the road. The figure in a hooded, brown military aba takes an abrupt turn. ... Stinging sand swirls around you. Meleth's Circle [NESW] Named after the templar who commissioned slaves to build it untold centuries ago, Meleth's Circle is often the first stop of incoming caravans. The stones on the ground here, each more than a meter across, form a large hexagonal pattern. A multitude of people crowd the circle, members of all social classes. To the east, great, rough rocks of obsidian thrust themselves out of the ground, forming a jagged temple that takes up nearly half of the circle, absorbing Suk-Krath's harsh rays and cooling the surrounding area with its dull blackness. Many people dressed in common attire filter in and out of the temple, some holding waterskins or containers in hand, or carrying gourds around their necks. The soft drone of chanting and other voices can be heard from within the temple. Two unlit torches thrust out on each side of the doorway. Meleth's Circle continues to the south and north, and the yellowy-brown sandstone of Caravan Road stretches to the west. Several desiccated corpses lie here, withered and baking in the heat. A human soldier of Tektolnes walks along here. To the east is Inside the Temple of the Dragon. [Near] A white robed templar carefully attends the fountain. Stinging sand swirls around you. Inside the Temple of the Dragon [W] The great obsidian blocks that form the jagged exterior of this temple have been cut into a dull black dome that reaches nearly fifty cords at its pinnacle. Etched into the dome is the figure of a great white dragon screaming towards the temple floor. The fine white lines defining the body of the dragon converge into a sinewy tail that wraps around the walls, spiraling down until it merges into the temple floor. Scenes of battles and magicks, many of them prominently featuring smaller versions of the dragon, cover the spiraling tail. The smooth black floor of the temple is bare except for the great fountain of a thin templar rising from the temple floor itself, his eyes raised in exultation towards the screaming dragon and his hands outstretched, pouring water into the wide, clear pool in which he stands. White robed templars shuffle quietly about the temple, while a line of supplicants stretches out the great black-stained wooden door to the west, waiting for the statue's bounty. A white robed templar carefully attends the fountain. You get a pile of coins from a double-layered sandcloth pack. There were 15 coins. It is very light. You stop using a leather water-pouch. You bow to the statue and give 15 coins to the white robed templar. The white robed templar fills a leather water-pouch to the brim. You strap the pouch about your waist. You think: "Right. Now." Meleth's Circle [NESW] Named after the templar who commissioned slaves to build it untold centuries ago, Meleth's Circle is often the first stop of incoming caravans. The stones on the ground here, each more than a meter across, form a large hexagonal pattern. A multitude of people crowd the circle, members of all social classes. To the east, great, rough rocks of obsidian thrust themselves out of the ground, forming a jagged temple that takes up nearly half of the circle, absorbing Suk-Krath's harsh rays and cooling the surrounding area with its dull blackness. Many people dressed in common attire filter in and out of the temple, some holding waterskins or containers in hand, or carrying gourds around their necks. The soft drone of chanting and other voices can be heard from within the temple. Two unlit torches thrust out on each side of the doorway. Meleth's Circle continues to the south and north, and the yellowy-brown sandstone of Caravan Road stretches to the west. Several desiccated corpses lie here, withered and baking in the heat. A human soldier of Tektolnes walks along here. The figure in a hooded, brown military aba pushes out, through the throngs of people waiting in line and the loud beggars, absently stepping on a few hands and elbows, crushing them. Stinging sand swirls around you. Caravan Road [EW] Stretching itself out here is a long road, paved in rough yellowy brown sandstone, covered with reddish dust and sand, and wide enough that at least four caravans could pass through. The sun-browned backs of slaves march along, carrying goods. The sky's blood-red glory shines from above the main gate, highlighting its ominously smooth stones. The broad sweep of Meleth's Circle opens to the east. A short, squinty-eyed half-elf with tangled black hair is here. ... Commoners' Way [NESW] Commoners' Way proceeds onward from here, wandering amidst the tangle of crumbling, old mud brick buildings and faded tents that house Allanak's working class. The well-tracked road underfoot initially looks like simple hard-crusted filth, but upon closer inspection appears to be a layer of worn bricks caked with years' worth of animal dung mixed with gritty sand. The greatest concentration of muck along Commoners' Way seems to lead into the wide, open entryway of a stone-walled building to the east crouching among the other ramshackle facades along the street. Judging by the strong stench wafting out from the open entryway, it appears to be a slaughterhouse of some sort, a suspicion confirmed by the occasional kank or chalton dragged inside through the ten cords' wide opening by grimy workers. To the west is the entrance to what appears to be a small, cluttered shop. The road is crowded with Allanak's common folk and slaves, some hurrying about their business, while others linger, lounging in any patch of available shade to find respite from the fierce sun. The figure in a hooded, brown military aba pushes through relentlessly. A small archway leads into the confines of a small shop. [Near] A lop-eared, squinting elf stands behind the counter. Stinging sand swirls around you. The Meeting of Miner's Road and Commoners' Way [NEW] Commoners' Way and the dusty street known as Miner's Road meet here, weaving in a tangle between the ramshackle constructions which mark the housing here. The road is crowded with Allanaki commoners, and the air is thick with dust and noise. The smells of unwashed citizenry, rancid garbage, and offal all mingle here, mixed with the stench emanating from the kank and chalton slaughterhouse lying to the northeast. A drawn, straggly-bearded man crouches here, arms clutched to his chest. A young child dressed in rags is standing here, selling fruit. The figure in a hooded, brown military aba takes another abrupt turn to the west. Stinging sand swirls around you. The Meeting of Miner's Road and Commoners' Way [ESW] Commoners' Way and the the dusty street known as Miner's Road meet here, weaving in a tangle between the ramshackle constructions which mark the housing here. The road is crowded with Allanaki commoners, and the air is thick with dust and noise. The smells of unwashed citizenry, rancid garbage, and offal all mingle here, mixed with the stench emanating from the kank and chalton slaughterhouse lying to the north. A midden heap sits off to one side, stinking of decay. The tanned, red-haired girl stumbles along here, looking unwell. ... Stinging sand swirls around you. "The Black Lode" Mining Shop [N] This dusty, clay-walled shop is tucked away on Miner's Road in the Commoner's Quarter of Allanak, and looks to function as a provisioner of mining supplies. Cheap bone shelves, bound with leather, line the red walls, bearing equipment like pickaxes, shovels, helmets, and gloves. A woven grass carpet covers the floor, and two jallal-wood planks sit atop a pile of brown clay bricks, serving as a rudimentary counter. A curtain of beads leads north onto Miner's Road. The short, black-skinned dwarf stands here, tending to customers. the short, black-skinned dwarf has the following goods to trade: 01) a bone helmet for 186 obsidian coins. 02) an unlit bone-handled torch for 15 obsidian coins. 03) a broad stone chisel for 36 obsidian coins. 04) a coil of hemp rope for 18 obsidian coins. 05) a bloodied long, wickedly sharp fang for 61 obsidian coins. 06) an obsidian hide-scraper for 72 obsidian coins. 07) a quartz hide-scraper for 108 obsidian coins. 08) a rigid, angular leg for 38 obsidian coins. 09) a stone-headed glasshacker for 63 obsidian coins. 10) a new sturdy inix-hide helmet for 109 obsidian coins. The figure in a hooded, brown military aba rubs hands over various tools, quickly picking up a glasshacker and chisel once you finds them. You get a pile of allanaki coins from a double-layered sandcloth pack. There were 25 coins. It is very light. You get a pile of allanaki coins from a double-layered sandcloth pack. There were 367 coins. It is very light. You give the short, black-skinned dwarf 36 obsidian coins for a broad stone chisel. You give the short, black-skinned dwarf 63 obsidian coins for a stone-headed glasshacker. The figure in a hooded, brown military aba looks over your broad stone chisel and your stone-headed glasshacker, nodding in satisfaction, without a word. You are carrying: 293 obsidian pieces a stone-headed glasshacker a broad stone chisel an used round black shield a short bone sparring sword a daraq shield You put a pile of allanaki coins inside a double-layered sandcloth pack. Miner's Road [NESW] The dusty old street known as Miner's Road weaves between the ramshackle constructions which make up the housing of the Commoner's Quarter, decrepit buildings of ancient mud brick, augmented with panels of rotting canvas and hide. Crowds wander through the thoroughfare, clad in faded abas and carrying their assorted burdens. The ground underfoot is thick with dung from the animals being driven to the slaughterhouse that sits at the intersection of Miner's Road and Commoners' Way. A broad archway bearing the jade cross of the Allanaki templarate leads north into an office, and a small shop sits on the south side of the street. A dusty, sun-cracked man squints at his surroundings as he ambles along. The thin-framed man ambles along, frowning. The night has begun. ... Stinging sand swirls around you. Wall Road [NSU] Shadowed by night, Wall Road leads its ponderous way along the inside of the city wall, a large structure of gargantuan stone blocks, spikes of stone and chitin affixed along the top to ward off would-be invaders. The road is made of small cobblestones covered with sand and gritty dust, smelling of the wind-swept wastelands past the looming shadow of the giant city wall. Stinging sand swirls around you. Inside the Main Gate [NESW] The main gate of the city-state of Allanak towers high here, its twin obsidian towers separating the life-threatening perils of the desert from the life-threatening perils of the city. Outside of the gate, a wide road stretches outwards before circling around the city, side roads branching in all directions: the boulder wastelands to the west, the flat, empty plains to the south, and the endless, infernal desert to the infinite north. Inside the gate, Caravan Road plunges eastward into the heart of the city, passing by the elemental temples and three Quarters before reaching its end. Wall Road leads north and south, creeping along the inside of the high city walls. A human soldier of Tektolnes stands here, warily guarding the city gate. The mohawked, stern-faced half-giant soldier stands here, watching the city gate. A half-giant lumbers on his way, avoiding passers-by. The bald, harshly-tanned soldier is standing here. Stinging sand swirls around you. The gates seems to be closed. The figure in a hooded, brown military aba turns again, nearly running into the gates before you stops and stares, then suddenly turns away south. The human soldier briefly inspects your belongings before allowing you to pass. Stinging sand swirls around you. Wall Road [NSU] Shadowed by night, Wall Road leads its ponderous way along the inside of the city wall, a large structure of gargantuan stone blocks, spikes of stone and chitin affixed along the top to ward off would-be invaders. The road is made of small cobblestones covered with sand and gritty dust, smelling of the wind-swept wastelands past the looming shadow of the giant city wall. You think: "Maybe I can get over on the catwalk." Stinging sand swirls around you. Along A Steep Stairway [UD] A narrow set of stairs has been built into the surface of the wall itself, running zigzag along its immense stock blocks. The stairs lack a railing, making the downward view of Wall Road passing underneath a dizzying one. From this vantage point, the lights of Allanak, marking the lines of houses are visible in the night, and flickering torches mark the progression of wanderers, here and there along the streets. The figure in a hooded, brown military aba stumps carefully up the stairs. Stinging sand swirls around you. Atop the Wall [ND] A narrow catwalk proceeds along the wall, passing over the gates of Allanak. From this perch, one can see the vast expanse of desert lying outside the city, a landscape of inhospitable red sand dunes constantly being reshaped by the harsh manipulations of the wind. A set of zigzagging stairs have been built into the surface of the interior wall and descend down towards Wall Road. Stinging sand swirls around you. Above the Main Gate [NSD] A narrow catwalk proceeds along the wall, passing over the gates of Allanak. From this perch, one can see the vast expanse of desert lying outside the city, a landscape of inhospitable red sand dunes constantly being reshaped by the harsh manipulations of the wind. To the west, the top of the wall itself forms an adequate railing, but to the east the catwalk falls away, guarded only by a simple rope. Down from here is In the Air Below a Catwalk. [Near] Nothing. You think: "Hmmm..." Stinging sand swirls around you. Atop the Wall [SD] A narrow catwalk proceeds along the wall, passing over the gates of Allanak. From this perch, one can see the vast expanse of desert lying outside the city, a landscape of inhospitable red sand dunes constantly being reshaped by the harsh manipulations of the wind. A set of zigzagging stairs have been built into the surface of the interior wall and descend down towards Wall Road. Down below is Along A Steep Stairway. [Near] Nothing. Stinging sand swirls around you. Above the Main Gate [NSD] A narrow catwalk proceeds along the wall, passing over the gates of Allanak. From this perch, one can see the vast expanse of desert lying outside the city, a landscape of inhospitable red sand dunes constantly being reshaped by the harsh manipulations of the wind. To the west, the top of the wall itself forms an adequate railing, but to the east the catwalk falls away, guarded only by a simple rope. You see nothing special. The figure in a hooded, brown military aba looks out to the west, eyes centering on the dragon. The figure in a hooded, brown military aba yanks at the rope guardrail, pulling mightily to no avail. The figure in a hooded, brown military aba fumbles around in you for a few moments, something gleaming in your hand afterwards. You cannot carry an obsidian dagger, you have too many items. You are carrying: a stone-headed glasshacker a broad stone chisel an used round black shield a short bone sparring sword a daraq shield You drop an used round black shield. Shown to the room as: An used round black shield lies here. You cannot carry an obsidian dagger, you have too many items. You hold the shield. You get an obsidian dagger from a hooded, brown military aba. It is very light. You brandish the dagger. The figure in a hooded, brown military aba hacks at the rope guardrail powerfully. In two strokes, it falls away. You pick up an used round black shield. It is very light. You put an obsidian dagger inside a hooded, brown military aba. The figure in a hooded, brown military aba shuffles it back into you, regarding the dark expanse neutrally. You think: "I can scale down the wall..." You stop holding a daraq shield. The figure in a hooded, brown military aba looks around and, when you thinks no one is looking, grabs hold of the rope and ties it around himself, quickly dipping over the edge. Stinging sand swirls around you. You try to go down but fall. In the Air Below a Catwalk [UD] Just above, a catwalk proceeds along the western wall of the city, passing over the gate, the top of which is immediately to the west. To the north and south are a pair of staircases leading up to the catwalk, and spread out below is the inside guard post of the gates. <121/121hp 114/114st 132/138sa> You plummet to the ground below... Inside the Main Gate [NESW] The main gate of the city-state of Allanak towers high here, its twin obsidian towers separating the life-threatening perils of the desert from the life-threatening perils of the city. Outside of the gate, a wide road stretches outwards before circling around the city, side roads branching in all directions: the boulder wastelands to the west, the flat, empty plains to the south, and the endless, infernal desert to the infinite north. Inside the gate, Caravan Road plunges eastward into the heart of the city, passing by the elemental temples and three Quarters before reaching its end. Wall Road leads north and south, creeping along the inside of the high city walls. A human soldier of Tektolnes stands here, warily guarding the city gate. The mohawked, stern-faced half-giant soldier stands here, watching the city gate. A half-giant lumbers on his way, avoiding passers-by. The bald, harshly-tanned soldier is standing here. The figure in a hooded, brown military aba grunts loudly as you hits the ground, and lays still. But only for a few moments; soon enough, you gathers himself and slowly gets to your feet, favoring your right side. You think: "Wrong side. I'll just wait. The day'll give me more chance to study." The figure in a hooded, brown military aba limps over to lean against the wall, face recessed deep into your hood. You send this message to the staff: "Okay. 'twill be a little while, since I have to wait until the gates opened (he already tried scaling down the wall and that didn't work), then for the sun to set again, but I really would appreciate some interaction. Thanks so much." I had previously wished up about Monta's plan to steal steel from the dragon. The response I got from the staff was priceless. It went something like, “What?” then, “Is your character insane? Are you serious?” The answers to the two questions were, in order, a little bit, and yes. The figure in a hooded, brown military aba stares over at the closed gates, glowering. You think: "Damned...kankfecking...half-giant-loving...arms of the spotty dragon." The figure in a hooded, brown military aba spits, letting it dribble down the stones and evaporate quickly. The figure in a hooded, brown military aba leans and stares at nothing in particular. You think: "Better watch the Gaj. Make sure no Byn's coming out when I leave." It is before dawn on Detal, the 132nd day of the Ascending Sun, In the Year of Dragon's Agitation, year 28 of the 21st Age. The figure in a hooded, brown military aba slowly fondles your stone-headed glasshacker, a nasty crooked grin sneaking onto your face. You think: "I'm gonna have steel! Just a day..." The figure in a hooded, brown military aba shifts your feet around slightly, trying to hide your stone-headed glasshacker behind your body. You think: "Hey wait! I should get a kank!" You think: "...nah. Can't ride worth shit enough that it wouldn't slow me down." The figure in a hooded, brown military aba whistles softly, in a manner you probably thinks is nonchalant. It is, in fact, piercing and off tune. It is before dawn on Detal, the 132nd day of the Ascending Sun, In the Year of Dragon's Agitation, year 28 of the 21st Age. The figure in a hooded, brown military aba glances back over at the gates, half-glowering, half gleeful. You think: "Hmm. I'd better move up the schedule. I can't sit outside all day, would get caught. I'll do it at dawn." The figure in a hooded, brown military aba keeps a furtive grip on your stone-headed glasshacker. You are carrying: a daraq shield an used round black shield a stone-headed glasshacker a broad stone chisel a short bone sparring sword It is before dawn on Detal, the 132nd day of the Ascending Sun, In the Year of Dragon's Agitation, year 28 of the 21st Age. <110/121hp 114/114st 132/138sa> The sun rises over the spires of Allanak's east wall. A final glimmer of red light marks the red moon Jihae's slow descent. A final glimmer of light marks the white moon Lirathu's slow descent. <110/121hp 114/114st 132/138sa> The human soldier groans and rises from his position. The human soldier shouts, in sirihish: "Open the gatej!" NPC typo I hadn't noticed until dressing this log. The human soldier sends up a call to the tower to open the gates. The human soldier opens the gates. <110/121hp 114/114st 132/138sa> The towering, nigrescent man has arrived from the east, riding a yellow kank. A yellow kank walks west, carrying the towering, nigrescent man on his back. <110/121hp 114/114st 132/138sa>You send this message to the staff: "Sorry if I'm a nuisance; I just thought I should inform you all that I'm moving up the schedule. Monta decided 'twould be better to try at dawn than wait and risk another Byn happening by." <110/121hp 114/114st 132/138sa> A line of bare-backed kanks carves its way through the populated street, led by a single rider at the front end. The figure in a hooded, brown military aba glances about furtively, slipping out the gate when you is sure no other person is looking directly at you. The pudgy, brown-haired half-giant soldier has arrived from the east. Terrible, biting sand whips around you. Saving at the gate of Allanak. Saving Monta. Outside the Main Gate [NESW] The two dark towers of Allanak's main gate lie just to the east, soaring skyward in an apparent attempt to pierce the endless sky above. Their rough red stones look as if they could stand firm for all eternity, towering over fifty cords above. The gate itself is a large stone barricade of sorts that is normally closed only at night. The Outer Circle extends to the north and to the south from here. A black steel dragon sits atop the mighty walls, gazing hungrily towards the western horizon from its place by the towers. A large crowd of Allanaki citizens--from the filthiest commoner to the most refined noble--gathers at the wall below the statue, all in various degrees of prostration before the great beast. The figure in a hooded, brown military aba mills about by the base of the statue, in the crowd. Your new ldesc is: The figure in a hooded, brown military aba mills about in the crowd here. A black steel dragon, towering some fifty cords above the city, glares hungrily toward the western horizon. The dragon's wings, which span over a hundred cords, are poised as if in preparation to lift it into the harsh desert sky. Under one of its gargantuan claws is a life-sized stone dwarf, caught in the last writhing moments of a painful death. Under the other is a winged beast larger than a half- giant, its body torn and lifeless. The dragon's maw, filled with steel razors the size of halflings, emits a silent, challenging scream that tears through your sanity. You think: "Hmm....no, gotta get on the walls..." The figure in a hooded, brown military aba scurries back through the gates hurriedly. Terrible, biting sand whips around you. You pass beneath the shadow of the black dragon. Inside the Main Gate [NESW] The main gate of the city-state of Allanak towers high here, its twin obsidian towers separating the life-threatening perils of the desert from the life-threatening perils of the city. Outside of the gate, a wide road stretches outwards before circling around the city, side roads branching in all directions: the boulder wastelands to the west, the flat, empty plains to the south, and the endless, infernal desert to the infinite north. Inside the gate, Caravan Road plunges eastward into the heart of the city, passing by the elemental temples and three Quarters before reaching its end. Wall Road leads north and south, creeping along the inside of the high city walls. The pudgy, brown-haired half-giant soldier watches over the thick gates. A human soldier of Tektolnes stands here, warily guarding the city gate. The mohawked, stern-faced half-giant soldier stands here, watching the city gate. A half-giant lumbers on his way, avoiding passers-by. The bald, harshly-tanned soldier is standing here. The human soldier briefly inspects your belongings before allowing you to pass. Terrible, biting sand whips around you. Wall Road [NSU] Wall Road leads its ponderous way along the inside of the city wall, a large structure of gargantuan stone blocks, spikes of stone and chitin affixed along the top to ward off would-be invaders. The road is made of small cobblestones covered with sand and gritty dust, smelling of the wind-swept wastelands past the looming shadow of the giant city wall. The road continues south, while to the north lie the main gates of Allanak. A narrow stairway, built into the wall itself, leads upward towards a catwalk stretching along the top of the wall. The figure in a dusty hooded, brown military aba leaps up the stairs, clanking all the way. Terrible, biting sand whips around you. Along A Steep Stairway [UD] A narrow set of stairs has been built into the surface of the wall itself, running zigzag along its immense stock blocks. The stairs lack a railing, making the downward view of Wall Road passing underneath a dizzying one. The heat of the sun beats down upon the dark surface of the steps, sending up shimmering waves of warmth. Terrible, biting sand whips around you. Atop the Wall [ND] A narrow catwalk proceeds along the wall, passing over the gates of Allanak. From this perch, one can see the vast expanse of desert lying outside the city, a landscape of inhospitable red sand dunes constantly being reshaped by the harsh manipulations of the wind. A set of zigzagging stairs have been built into the surface of the interior wall and descend down towards Wall Road. Terrible, biting sand whips around you. Above the Main Gate [NSD] A narrow catwalk proceeds along the wall, passing over the gates of Allanak. From this perch, one can see the vast expanse of desert lying outside the city, a landscape of inhospitable red sand dunes constantly being reshaped by the harsh manipulations of the wind. To the west, the top of the wall itself forms an adequate railing, but to the east the catwalk falls away, guarded only by a simple rope. The figure in a dusty hooded, brown military aba flattens out on your belly, staring down at the dragon. <110/121hp 114/114st 130/138sa> Down below, the very tall figure in a dusty hooded, black sandcloth longcloak has arrived from the east. Down below, the white-haired, olive-skinned man has arrived from the east. <110/121hp 114/114st 130/138sa> Down below, the very tall figure in a dusty hooded, black sandcloth longcloak walks west. Outside the gates, the very tall figure in a dusty hooded, black sandcloth longcloak has arrived from the east. Down below, the white-haired, olive-skinned man walks west. Outside the gates, the white-haired, olive-skinned man has arrived from the east. The figure in a dusty hooded, brown military aba freezes, reaching out, trying to hide behind the dragon's silhoutte. Down below is In the Air Below a Catwalk. [Near] Nothing. <111/121hp 114/114st 130/138sa> Outside the gates, The white-haired, olive-skinned man starts mixing his way into the crowd of worshipers. Above the Main Gate [NSD] A narrow catwalk proceeds along the wall, passing over the gates of Allanak. From this perch, one can see the vast expanse of desert lying outside the city, a landscape of inhospitable red sand dunes constantly being reshaped by the harsh manipulations of the wind. To the west, the top of the wall itself forms an adequate railing, but to the east the catwalk falls away, guarded only by a simple rope. <111/121hp 114/114st 130/138sa> Down below, the rosy-cheeked dwarf has arrived from the east, riding a grey kank. <111/121hp 114/114st 130/138sa> Down below, a grey kank walks west, carrying the rosy-cheeked dwarf on his back. Outside the gates, the rosy-cheeked dwarf has arrived from the east, riding a grey kank. <111/121hp 114/114st 130/138sa> Down below, the tall, black-bearded man has arrived from the east, riding a saffron-colored kank. <111/121hp 114/114st 130/138sa> Down below, a saffron-colored kank walks west, carrying the tall, black-bearded man on his back. Outside the gates, the tall, black-bearded man has arrived from the east, riding a saffron-colored kank. The figure in a dusty hooded, brown military aba edges out further, slowly unlimbering your stone-headed glasshacker and getting a good grip. <111/121hp 114/114st 130/138sa> Outside the gates, The rosy-cheeked dwarf gives a salute to the statue as he rides. <111/121hp 114/114st 130/138sa> Outside the gates, a grey kank walks north, carrying the rosy-cheeked dwarf on his back. Outside the gates, a saffron-colored kank walks north, carrying the tall, black-bearded man on his back. <111/121hp 114/114st 130/138sa> Outside the gates, The very tall figure in a dusty hooded, black sandcloth longcloak moves with the white-haired, olive-skinned man through the gathered crowd, stopping at a less cramped area in the back and taking a knee beside the white-haired, olive-skinned man. You think: "Right. Here goes." You take hold of the glasshacker with both hands. <112/121hp 114/114st 130/138sa> Outside the gates, The white-haired, olive-skinned man grasps his dusty jade and ebony cross about his neck, bowing down in the sand. The figure in a dusty hooded, brown military aba swings powerfully, connecting with a wing and leaving a small gouge. The figure in a dusty hooded, brown military aba swings again from your precarious perch atop the wall, leaving another smallish gouge right next to the first. Above the Main Gate [NSD] A narrow catwalk proceeds along the wall, passing over the gates of Allanak. From this perch, one can see the vast expanse of desert lying outside the city, a landscape of inhospitable red sand dunes constantly being reshaped by the harsh manipulations of the wind. To the west, the top of the wall itself forms an adequate railing, but to the east the catwalk falls away, guarded only by a simple rope. The catwalk proceeds northward. [Near] Nothing. The catwalk proceeds southward. [Near] Nothing. <113/121hp 114/114st 130/138sa> Outside the gates, The very tall figure in a dusty hooded, black sandcloth longcloak bends his head down, face entirely hidden by the cloth that makes up his hood, a nearly inaudible murmur of prayer leaving his lips. The figure in a dusty hooded, brown military aba glances around, trying to see if there are any signs of response. Encouraged by their lack, you swings again, making the gouge deeper and longer, into a furrow. <113/121hp 114/114st 130/138sa> Outside the gates, The white-haired, olive-skinned man mumbles under his breath, pressing his forehead down to the sand. <113/121hp 114/114st 130/138sa> Down below, the mohawked, stern-faced half-giant soldier walks east. <113/121hp 114/114st 130/138sa> Outside the gates, The white-haired, olive-skinned man lifts his head slowly, pausing to brush the sand from his brow. The figure in a dusty hooded, brown military aba swings again, digging up a very small chunk, which skitters nearer and slightly to the left. <113/121hp 114/114st 130/138sa> Outside the gates, The very tall figure in a dusty hooded, black sandcloth longcloak rises up just after the white-haired, olive-skinned man, absently dusting off his knee before reaching over, chasing a few stray grains of sand off the white-haired, olive-skinned man's forehead with his fingertips. <114/121hp 114/114st 130/138sa> Outside the gates, The white-haired, olive-skinned man glances upwards at the very tall figure in a dusty hooded, black sandcloth longcloak's fingertips, smiling faintly. The figure in a dusty hooded, brown military aba scoots out further, trying to reach for the small chunk of steel with stubby arms. Unfortunately, since they are far too short, you falls over the side and onto the dragon's back with a loud CLANK! <114/121hp 114/114st 130/138sa> Outside the gates, Smiling, the very tall figure in a dusty hooded, black sandcloth longcloak leans in, brushing a quick kiss across the white-haired, olive-skinned man's brow. The figure in a dusty hooded, brown military aba sits up slowly with a groan. Once you realizes where you is though, your eyes light up and you reaches out to snatch up the chunk, stuffing it into you. <114/121hp 114/114st 130/138sa> Outside the gates, The very tall figure in a dusty hooded, black sandcloth longcloak slides his arm over the white-haired, olive-skinned man's shoulders, then begins making his way back through the milling crowd. <114/121hp 114/114st 130/138sa> Outside the gates, the very tall figure in a dusty hooded, black sandcloth longcloak walks east. Down below, the very tall figure in a dusty hooded, black sandcloth longcloak has arrived from the west. Outside the gates, the white-haired, olive-skinned man walks east. Down below, the white-haired, olive-skinned man has arrived from the west. <114/121hp 114/114st 130/138sa> Down below, the human soldier briefly inspects the very tall figure in a dusty hooded, black sandcloth longcloak's belongings, then allows him to pass. Down below, the very tall figure in a dusty hooded, black sandcloth longcloak walks east. Down below, the white-haired, olive-skinned man walks east. You stop holding a stone-headed glasshacker. The figure in a dusty hooded, brown military aba drops your stone-headed glasshacker, fumbling as you goes to grip your broad stone chisel, almost dropping it. You brandish the chisel. Made of a single piece of dense grey stone, this chisel has a broad flat head. Its grip is wrapped with braided leather cording. The figure in a dusty hooded, brown military aba starts hacking at the dragon's injured wing, arms rising and falling powerfully, leaving dents and scratches with each blow. It is early morning on Detal, the 132nd day of the Ascending Sun, In the Year of Dragon's Agitation, year 28 of the 21st Age. The figure in a dusty hooded, brown military aba keeps hammering tirelessly, corded muscles bunching with each loud impact, slowly carving a larger chunk from the dragon. You send this message to the staff: "Umm....hi. One last time. I'm currently on top of the dragon (having fallen off the catwalk above it) having a grand old time making an awful ruckus with the chisel. I'm pretty sure someone'll have noticed by now..." The figure in a dusty hooded, brown military aba keeps banging away, lit by the tireless energy of a fanatic. Above the Main Gate [NSD] A narrow catwalk proceeds along the wall, passing over the gates of Allanak. From this perch, one can see the vast expanse of desert lying outside the city, a landscape of inhospitable red sand dunes constantly being reshaped by the harsh manipulations of the wind. To the west, the top of the wall itself forms an adequate railing, but to the east the catwalk falls away, guarded only by a simple rope. The figure in a dusty hooded, brown military aba manages to secure another small chunk, and takes just enough time to squirrel that away in your double-layered sandcloth pack before taking up the chisel again. <115/121hp 114/114st 130/138sa> Below, a pair of half giants point upwards and begin to shout an alarm. <115/121hp 114/114st 130/138sa> Outside the gates, the huge male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap has arrived from the north. <115/121hp 114/114st 130/138sa> Outside the gates, the huge male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap sheathes a dusty obsidian-headed polished-bone mace. <115/121hp 114/114st 130/138sa> Outside the gates, the huge male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap sheathes a dusty obsidian-headed polished-bone mace. <115/121hp 114/114st 130/138sa> Outside the gates, the huge male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap runs east. Down below, the huge male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap has arrived from the west. <115/121hp 114/114st 130/138sa> Down below, the huge male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap starts cleaning. <115/121hp 114/114st 130/138sa> Down below, the huge male wearing a dusty thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap dusts himself off. <115/121hp 114/114st 130/138sa> Down below, the human soldier briefly inspects the huge male wearing a thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap's belongings, then allows him to pass. Down below, the huge male wearing a thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap runs east. The figure in a dusty hooded, brown military aba keeps banging, going after another chunk. You think: "Almost...got...enough....for...sword..." The figure in a dusty hooded, brown military aba curses as your broad stone chisel turns in your hand, leaving the beginnings of a nasty welt. However, unconcerned with that, you picks it up again and restarts with chipping away at the steel. <116/121hp 114/114st 130/138sa> To the north and south, templarate and soldiers begin to gather at the stairs. Above the Main Gate [NSD] A narrow catwalk proceeds along the wall, passing over the gates of Allanak. From this perch, one can see the vast expanse of desert lying outside the city, a landscape of inhospitable red sand dunes constantly being reshaped by the harsh manipulations of the wind. To the west, the top of the wall itself forms an adequate railing, but to the east the catwalk falls away, guarded only by a simple rope. Unconcerned, the figure in a dusty hooded, brown military aba keeps chipping. And chipping. Painstakingly gouging out another chunk. <116/121hp 114/114st 130/138sa> Your chisel breaks after some how severing a small chunk of corrosion from the steel statue. Above the Main Gate [NSD] A narrow catwalk proceeds along the wall, passing over the gates of Allanak. From this perch, one can see the vast expanse of desert lying outside the city, a landscape of inhospitable red sand dunes constantly being reshaped by the harsh manipulations of the wind. To the west, the top of the wall itself forms an adequate railing, but to the east the catwalk falls away, guarded only by a simple rope. Grunting in pain, you shout in sirihish: "KANKFECKER!" You'll need two free hands. You drop a broad stone chisel. Shown to the room as: A broad-headed chisel carved from stone lies here. You take hold of the glasshacker with both hands. <117/121hp 114/114st 130/138sa> Down below, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar has arrived from the east. The figure in a dusty hooded, brown military aba grabs your stone-headed glasshacker again and starts swinging, causing an even louder ruckus. <117/121hp 114/114st 130/138sa> Down below, The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar looks up towards the top of the statue. <117/121hp 114/114st 130/138sa> You hear some shouting from below as another templar arrives. The figure in a dusty hooded, brown military aba BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! your stone-headed glasshacker falls in something of a rhythm, skittering off the dragon's skin. <117/121hp 114/114st 130/138sa> Small bits of stone begin to chip and ricochet away from the statue, pelting you. The figure in a dusty hooded, brown military aba continues on doggedly, your stone-headed glasshacker down again and again. <117/121hp 114/114st 130/138sa> Down below, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar calls to the bald, harshly-tanned soldier for aid, and she strides to her side. <117/121hp 114/114st 130/138sa> Down below, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar gives the bald, harshly-tanned soldier an order. Down below, the bald, harshly-tanned soldier begins guarding the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar. <117/121hp 114/114st 130/138sa> Down below, The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar gestures to a guard, and then makes for the stairs. <117/121hp 114/114st 130/138sa> Down below, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar walks north. Down below, the bald, harshly-tanned soldier walks north. Above the Main Gate [NSD] A narrow catwalk proceeds along the wall, passing over the gates of Allanak. From this perch, one can see the vast expanse of desert lying outside the city, a landscape of inhospitable red sand dunes constantly being reshaped by the harsh manipulations of the wind. To the west, the top of the wall itself forms an adequate railing, but to the east the catwalk falls away, guarded only by a simple rope. <117/121hp 114/114st 130/138sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar has arrived from the north. The bald, harshly-tanned soldier has arrived from the north. <117/121hp 114/114st 130/138sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar begins guarding the north exit. <117/121hp 114/114st 130/138sa> As she walks along casually, hands empty, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, in sirihish: "Put thak hacker down, taeijor." The figure in a dusty hooded, brown military aba looks back, and, grabbing after any small flecks which flaked off, does as you is told. You drop a stone-headed glasshacker. Shown to the room as: A sharp-bladed stone glasshacker lies here on the ground. The figure in a dusty hooded, brown military aba scoots over slightly, further out on the statue. You suffer from use of the Way. You fail to build a psychic barrier around your mind. You suffer from use of the Way. You fail to build a psychic barrier around your mind. You think: "Feck. She'll rip my brain apart." <117/121hp 76/114st 130/138sa> Looking across the open air towards you, giving a slight, nasty smirk, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, in sirihish: "Come here willongly, and your judgement shull be skift." <117/121hp 76/114st 130/138sa> The air around you begins to warm up. The figure in a dusty hooded, brown military aba looks over at the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar and the bald, harshly-tanned soldier, then simply slips off the statue. <117/121hp 85/114st 130/138sa>Terrible, biting sand whips around you. You try to go down but fall. In the Air Below a Catwalk [UD] Just above, a catwalk proceeds along the western wall of the city, passing over the gate, the top of which is immediately to the west. To the north and south are a pair of staircases leading up to the catwalk, and spread out below is the inside guard post of the gates. <117/121hp 85/114st 130/138sa> You plummet to the ground below... Inside the Main Gate [NESW] The main gate of the city-state of Allanak towers high here, its twin obsidian towers separating the life-threatening perils of the desert from the life-threatening perils of the city. Outside of the gate, a wide road stretches outwards before circling around the city, side roads branching in all directions: the boulder wastelands to the west, the flat, empty plains to the south, and the endless, infernal desert to the infinite north. Inside the gate, Caravan Road plunges eastward into the heart of the city, passing by the elemental temples and three Quarters before reaching its end. Wall Road leads north and south, creeping along the inside of the high city walls. The pudgy, brown-haired half-giant soldier watches over the thick gates. A human soldier of Tektolnes stands here, warily guarding the city gate. A half-giant lumbers on his way, avoiding passers-by. The figure in a dusty hooded, brown military aba gathers himself up quickly. <99/121hp 44/114st 130/138sa>You stop resting, and stand up. You speed up to a fast run. Terrible, biting sand whips around you. Saving at the gate of Allanak. Saving Monta. Outside the Main Gate [NESW] The two dark towers of Allanak's main gate lie just to the east, soaring skyward in an apparent attempt to pierce the endless sky above. Their rough red stones look as if they could stand firm for all eternity, towering over fifty cords above. The gate itself is a large stone barricade of sorts that is normally closed only at night. The Outer Circle extends to the north and to the south from here. A black steel dragon sits atop the mighty walls, gazing hungrily towards the western horizon from its place by the towers. A large crowd of Allanaki citizens--from the filthiest commoner to the most refined noble--gathers at the wall below the statue, all in various degrees of prostration before the great beast. Monta knows just enough about templars to realize that he's a dead man if he doesn't get away. So, like any stupid Bynner, he runs for the Shield Wall. ... <102/121hp 56/114st 58/138sa> The sun reaches its highest point in the sky. The figure in a dusty hooded, brown military aba stops for a moment to 'rest', panting and looking back. You think: "I get to...I dunno. Luir's. Then I feckin' take the aba off. And pretend like nothin' happened. AND NEVER COME BACK." Terrible, biting sand whips around you. Wave Dunes [NESW] Short wave dunes roll northward, each no more than three cords tall, but more than five times that in length. Dull yellow sand and thick, reddish- brown dust make up the desert landscape here. The sun hangs soundlessly in the sky above, beating down relentlessly on the hot, dry sands. Red dust clouds the air in a malicious attempt to blind and choke travelers. You slow down to a brisk walk. ... Terrible, biting sand whips around you. Atop the Shield Wall [NESW] Here drops down and away the sheer cliff of the Shield Wall, which runs east to west at this point. Far below, to the north, the land stretches out as far as the eye can see, endless rocky, barren land strewn with tortuous gulches and canyons extending out to the horizon. Medium-sized sand dunes lie to the south, trying in vain to escape being blown over the edge. The figure in a dusty hooded, brown military aba looks over the edge, then back south, then east. To the south is Wave Dunes. [Near] To the north is Over the Edge. [Near] Nothing. East of here is Atop the Shield Wall. [Near] Nothing. Terrible, biting sand whips around you. Atop the Shield Wall [NESW] Here drops down and away the sheer cliff of the Shield Wall, which runs east to west at this point. Far below, to the north, the land stretches out as far as the eye can see, endless rocky, barren land strewn with tortuous gulches and canyons extending out to the horizon. Medium-sized sand dunes lie to the south, trying in vain to escape being blown over the edge. You are Monta, a Runner of the T'zai Byn. Keywords: windburned patchwork dwarf parti quirri hairy jape Sdesc: the windburned, patchwork dwarf Objective: Get a steel broadsword, and breastplate. Long Description: Code Generated Long Description. You are 29 years, 0 months, and 121 days old, which by your race and appearance is young. You are 58 inches tall, and weigh 10 ten-stone. Your strength is good, your agility is below average, your wisdom is poor, and your endurance is above average. You are neither hungry nor thirsty. Your health is 103(121), you have 20(138) stamina, and 83(114) stun. You have been playing for 1 days and 10 hours. You are standing. You are currently speaking sirihish with a southern accent. <103/121hp 86/114st 20/138sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar has arrived from the west. The bald, harshly-tanned soldier has arrived from the west. <103/121hp 86/114st 20/138sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar gives the bald, harshly-tanned soldier an order. The bald, harshly-tanned soldier attempts to grab you, but you wrestle away. You approach the edge of the cliff and peer over it ... You teeter precariously, then move back from the edge. OOC: If you definitely want to go over, use: "north now" Terrible, biting sand whips around you. You try to climb, but slip. Over the Edge [ESWD] Far below, the sheer face of the Shield Wall slams into the ground. For some distance from the Wall, the desert floor is strewn with boulders, even stretches of steppes, and beyond that, the landscape stretches out endlessly, wave after wave of sand, until it vanishes into the single, barely visible dark line of the mountain range to the west. <103/121hp 89/114st 0/138sa> You plummet to the ground below... Face of the Shield Wall [UD] Quite some distance below, the sheer face of the Shield Wall meets with the ground, where chunks of rock lie scattered around. Looking away from the Wall, the terrain below gradually turns from boulder-strewn to hard-packed clay, and then to endless sand. <103/121hp 89/114st 0/138sa> You plummet to the ground below... Face of the Shield Wall [UD] Quite some distance below, the sheer face of the Shield Wall meets with the ground, where chunks of rock lie scattered around. Looking away from the Wall, the terrain below gradually turns from boulder-strewn to hard-packed clay, and then to endless sand. <103/121hp 89/114st 0/138sa> You plummet to the ground below... Base of the Shield Wall [NEWU] A towering wall of solid, reddish-brown rock rises out of the shattered, reddish-brown ground immediately to the south, easily soaring more than a few hundred cords upward into the sky. The cliff face is marred by numerous jagged edges, as if it were regularly pelted. Rocks of varying shapes and sizes are scattered over the ground, doubtless originating from the worn rock wall. The blazing crimson sun hangs far above, giving the sky a strong orange cast and causing the air to shimmer. The remains of a high, blue-painted wooden wagon are here at the base of the wall. Your vision goes black. The figure in a dusty hooded, brown military aba groans, then falls silent. You dream: "Steel...dragons...eating dwarfs..." You dream: "Oh, it hurts, it hurts hurts..." <50/121hp 0/114st 16/138sa> Someone floats gracefully down the cliff face. <50/121hp 0/114st 16/138sa> Someone reaches out, gently taking you by the throat. The figure in a dusty hooded, brown military aba doesn't even stir, knocked out cold. <56/121hp 0/114st 48/138sa> You feel someone grasp your throat, and then you dream the sensation of floating high up through the air. You dream: "Mmmmmm....steel floats? Dragon?" <68/121hp 0/114st 88/138sa> You can't see anything; you're sleeping! You dream: "Ugh...gnashing steel mekillots..." <70/121hp 0/114st 112/138sa> Someone float gracefully along through the whirling sand. <70/121hp 0/114st 112/138sa> Someone floats casually along, dragging you. <70/121hp 0/114st 112/138sa> Someone makes a bleating noise and moves its head from side to side. The figure in a dusty hooded, brown military aba grunts, bumping over small rocks and hardpacked piles of sand, but not waking. <72/121hp 0/114st 120/138sa> A cheer goes up around someone as she drags you through the gates. <72/121hp 0/114st 120/138sa> A rider on a grey kank canters westward along the busy road. <72/121hp 0/114st 120/138sa> Someone casually drags an unconcious form along by one hand. <72/121hp 0/114st 128/138sa> The guards grab you harshly and strap you down onto the obsidian slab, tying each of your limbs securely with a length of braided rope. Your new ldesc is: The figure in a dusty hooded, brown military aba is stretched between a set of stone poles. The figure in a dusty hooded, brown military aba hangs, unconscious, by the slab. <72/121hp 0/114st 128/138sa> Someone begins to pat over you carefully. <72/121hp 0/114st 128/138sa> Someone reaches deep into some rancid brown cloak pockets, and pulls out some lumps of questionable, black matter. <72/121hp 0/114st 128/138sa> Someone smears some grunge off of a few of the bits, and tucks them away. The figure in a dusty hooded, brown military aba groans softly, blood dripping down from your gashed and swelling forehead. <74/121hp 0/114st 128/138sa> Your head clears and your eyes flutter open. Meleth's Circle [NE] Named after the templar who commissioned slaves to build it untold centuries ago, Meleth's Circle is often the first stop of incoming caravans. The stones on the ground here, each more than a meter across, form a large hexagonal pattern. A multitude of people crowd the circle, members of all social classes. Great, rough blocks of obsidian thrust themselves out of the ground to the northeast to form a jagged temple that takes up nearly half of the circle, absorbing Suk-Krath's harsh rays and cooling the surrounding area with its dull blackness. A set of four stone poles rest upon an obsidian base here. The bald, harshly-tanned soldier is standing here. The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar is standing here. - her feet hover above the ground. The copious, ragged bearded man staggers along here, bottle in hand. Four Allanaki soldiers stand in place before a set of stone poles. <74/121hp 6/114st 128/138sa> Her voice lifting to the crowds, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar exclaims, in sirihish: "Citizens of allanak! Loak upon a traitor!" The figure in a dusty hooded, brown military aba groans and shakes your head slowly, trying to clear it. Working your lips and spitting out a tooth, you say, in sirihish: "Wha? I ain't a traitor..." <75/121hp 26/114st 128/138sa> Reaching over to you, and gripping the clothing tightly before ripping, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar exclaims, in sirihish: "Thiz! This mercenary! This traya! Bear witness to he who dare defy the sanctity of His Statui!" The figure in a dusty hooded, brown military aba blinks slowly, head hanging forward. You lower the hood of a dusty hooded, brown military aba. <76/121hp 46/114st 128/138sa> As she rips the hood down, and then brings her fist back, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar exclaims, in sirihish: "Announge your mrimo!" <76/121hp 51/114st 128/138sa> Waiting only a moment, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar then delivers a swift, brutal backhand to your face. Grunting and turning at the force of the blow, you ask, in sirihish: "My what?" The windburned, patchwork dwarf spits blood with another groan. <76/121hp 76/114st 128/138sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar gestures imperiously to the pole guards. <76/121hp 76/114st 128/138sa> The guards return to their posts and turn them a single rotation, stretching the ropes around the limbs of the windburned, patchwork dwarf taut. <76/121hp 76/114st 128/138sa> The neat, clean-shaven man has arrived from the north. <76/121hp 106/114st 128/138sa> Speaking through her teeth, glaring at you, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar exclaims, in sirihish: "Your crame, traitor. unnounce your cmije!" <76/121hp 106/114st 128/138sa> The neat, clean-shaven man walks east. <76/121hp 106/114st 128/138sa> The guards turn the poles on the device another notch. <74/121hp 111/114st 128/138sa> The neat, clean-shaven man has arrived from the east. The windburned, patchwork dwarf spreads out with the force, then whimpers quietly at the stretching. <74/121hp 111/114st 128/138sa> The neat, clean-shaven man looks down at you. Looking confused, you ask, in sirihish: "What crime?" <74/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The neat, clean-shaven man looks shocked. <74/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The neat, clean-shaven man asks, in northern-accented sirihish: "oaatl going on here?" <74/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The neat, clean-shaven man bows deeply to the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar. <74/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The neat, clean-shaven man asks, in northern-accented sirihish: "Hairy?" <74/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> Screaming at you, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar shouts, in sirihish: "You lnow what crime! Annouyie it or petish!" <74/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The guards turn the poles on the device another notch. <68/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The neat, clean-shaven man looks at the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar. <68/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> With a slow, bitter turn of her gaze, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar looks at the neat, clean-shaven man. Looking around slowly, gagging on the pain before opening your mouth again, you say, in sirihish: "Wha? Uh...do I get to live oth-" <68/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The neat, clean-shaven man bows deeply to the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar. <68/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> Her lips twisting into a deep scowl, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, in sirihish: "A northern bynneq... bill well... your compajriot here was caagnt..." The windburned, patchwork dwarf gags, chokes, and a deep scream bubbles up as one of your shoulders gives a loud POP! <68/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The neat, clean-shaven man says, in northern-accented sirihish: "Your greatnejs" <68/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, in sirihish: "difilinn His grand statee at txu Dragon's Gaue." <68/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The neat, clean-shaven man says, in northern-accented sirihish: "Ohhh haire, what have you done" <69/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar holds up a hand towards the pole guards, halting the turning of the straps for a moment. <69/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The neat, clean-shaven man says, in northern-accented sirihish: "Yuur greytness, ha is a xyarf" <69/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> Simply, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, in sirihish: "He is a dead dwarf." <69/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The neat, clean-shaven man says to the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar, in northern-accented sirihish: "ohey can bocomy obsesvive about some thingk, as eou know" <70/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The neat, clean-shaven man asks the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar, in northern-accented sirihish: "Is there anytaing that hy could do so make it up??" Gasping for breath, whispering the words through blood, you say, in sirihish: "I...uh...went after...steel, right? Statue's steel...didn't know was defiling nothing..." <70/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The neat, clean-shaven man cringes a little. <70/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> Her eyes narrowing, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, in sirihish: "Yyu farget who you spoyk ta, commonen." <70/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The neat, clean-shaven man says to the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar, in northern-accented sirihish: "I am terrible sorry your greatness" <71/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The thick-bearded, bulky man has arrived from the north. <71/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The thick-bearded, bulky man walks east. <71/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The late, red sun descends toward the western horizon. <71/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar shouts, in sirihish: "vady vemplar!" <71/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The neat, clean-shaven man bows deeply. Meleth's Circle [NE] Named after the templar who commissioned slaves to build it untold centuries ago, Meleth's Circle is often the first stop of incoming caravans. The stones on the ground here, each more than a meter across, form a large hexagonal pattern. A multitude of people crowd the circle, members of all social classes. Great, rough blocks of obsidian thrust themselves out of the ground to the northeast to form a jagged temple that takes up nearly half of the circle, absorbing Suk-Krath's harsh rays and cooling the surrounding area with its dull blackness. A set of four stone poles rest upon an obsidian base here. The neat, clean-shaven man is standing here. The bald, harshly-tanned soldier is standing here. The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar is standing here. - her feet hover above the ground. The copious, ragged bearded man staggers along here, bottle in hand. Four Allanaki soldiers stand in place before a set of stone poles. <71/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> Hefting up her medallion of Tektolnes, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar exclaims, in sirihish: "I am a Lidy vemplag of His Gloroousnoss, and uou wull oou call me by some heethen nirthern term!" <71/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The neat, clean-shaven man drops to the ground. <71/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The neat, clean-shaven man shakes with fear. <71/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar asks, in sirihish: "What do yau dave to ofhen for qis liye?" The windburned, patchwork dwarf groans loudly, shoulder slowly turning purple. <71/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar shouts, in sirihish: "Speak!" <71/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> You notice the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar glance your way. <71/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The neat, clean-shaven man says to the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar, in northern-accented sirihish: "Perhaps he could do some servyce" <71/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The neat, clean-shaven man says to the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar, in northern-accented sirihish: "He is so obsissed" <71/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> With a nasty sneer, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar asks, in sirihish: "And what aboun you? What do you ofrer me for you?" <71/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The neat, clean-shaven man says to the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar, in northern-accented sirihish: "If he fando speel, ie could moke ynether statue" <71/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The very tall figure in a dusty hooded brown sandcloth cloak has arrived from the east, moving among a bunch of people, head hanging low. <71/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The neat, clean-shaven man says to the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar, in northern-accented sirihish: "An enen moze imjrissipe statuu" <71/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The neat, clean-shaven man trembles. Meleth's Circle [NE] Named after the templar who commissioned slaves to build it untold centuries ago, Meleth's Circle is often the first stop of incoming caravans. The stones on the ground here, each more than a meter across, form a large hexagonal pattern. A multitude of people crowd the circle, members of all social classes. Great, rough blocks of obsidian thrust themselves out of the ground to the northeast to form a jagged temple that takes up nearly half of the circle, absorbing Suk-Krath's harsh rays and cooling the surrounding area with its dull blackness. A set of four stone poles rest upon an obsidian base here. The very tall figure in a dusty hooded brown sandcloth cloak is standing here. The neat, clean-shaven man is standing here. The bald, harshly-tanned soldier is standing here. The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar is standing here. - her feet hover above the ground. The copious, ragged bearded man staggers along here, bottle in hand. Four Allanaki soldiers stand in place before a set of stone poles. <71/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The neat, clean-shaven man talkes very quickly. <71/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The very tall figure in a dusty hooded brown sandcloth cloak staggers back as the crowd moves away from the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar. <71/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The very tall figure in a dusty hooded brown sandcloth cloak . <71/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> Glancing behind her for a moment, scowling, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, in sirihish: "You haven't suffered enough aet... to maky zhose naises" <71/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar touches her medallion of Tektolnes. Looking up slowly, you ask, in sirihish: "Hey...Finna, 'sat you?" <71/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar calls upon the power of her King. <71/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The neat, clean-shaven man waits on the ground shaking slightly. <71/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar utters an incantation. <71/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar calls upon the power of her King. <71/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The very tall figure in a dusty hooded brown sandcloth cloak drops down to his knees along with other people, at some distance from the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar. <71/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar utters an incantation. <71/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The neat, clean-shaven man covers his head. <71/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar calls upon the power of her King. <71/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar utters an incantation. A warm feeling fills you, as wounds close all over your body. <87/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> With a sharp laugh, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, in sirihish: "He did wot wibh to use His power po iase youq poin, traitor! eut... He will ewjoy wetchisg you quffer." <87/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> A foreign presence contacts your mind. <87/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The neat, clean-shaven man sends you a telepathic message: "I tried hairy...Im sorry" <88/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind. <88/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> With a swift gesture, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar exclaims, in sirihish: "More! Both shoyldevl away!" <88/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The guards turn the poles on the device another notch. <80/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The very tall figure in a dusty hooded brown sandcloth cloak looks down at you. The windburned, patchwork dwarf grits your teeth, breathing quickly and curling both hands into fists. <80/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> Her voice lifting, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar shouts, in sirihish: "What say yoe, cammeners!" <80/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar shouts, in sirihish: "Whai shall his ponishmenr b?!" <81/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar shouts, in sirihish: "Shall we strutch him uytil his entrails show?" <81/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The neat, clean-shaven man lifts his head. <81/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar shouts, in sirihish: "Or shall we place uim in the pyt?!" <81/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The very tall figure in a dusty hooded brown sandcloth cloak remains silent as his red gaze is moving over the crowd. You think: "Ugh...the pain..." <81/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar shouts, in sirihish: "choql se feed him to the gij? Or shall we xuns him to the 'ronth?!" <81/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> A foreign presence contacts your mind. <82/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> With a nasty sneer as she turns to regard you, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, in sirihish: "Or saall... we epile him..." <82/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The neat, clean-shaven man sends you a telepathic message: "which do you want? the rinth? exile?" <82/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind. You suffer from use of the Way. You are unable to reach their mind. <82/121hp 101/114st 128/138sa> The neat, clean-shaven man raises his hand. You suffer from use of the Way. You are unable to reach their mind. You suffer from use of the Way. You are unable to reach their mind. <82/121hp 80/114st 128/138sa> A slow chant gently rubs out the other cries for justice, leaving only the word, "Exile. Exile. Exile! Exile!" <82/121hp 85/114st 128/138sa> The neat, clean-shaven man quickly brings it back down. <82/121hp 85/114st 128/138sa> As the crowd starts murmuring and shouting, the very tall figure in a dusty hooded brown sandcloth cloak remains low among them. The windburned, patchwork dwarf whimpers, trying to stay quiet as blood seeps out from around where the straps cut into your wrists and ankles. You suffer from use of the Way. You are unable to reach their mind. You suffer from use of the Way. You are unable to reach their mind. Brightly laughing, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar shouts, in sirihish: "phhh, an Exile! So shall it be... but yie are not yet tall enough to exist in the wazves. Stretch him!!" <84/121hp 79/114st 128/138sa> His voice is kept low, the very tall figure in a dusty hooded brown sandcloth cloak joins to the crowd in the chant. <84/121hp 79/114st 128/138sa>You suffer from use of the Way. You contact the neat, clean-shaven man with the Way. <84/121hp 66/104st 128/138sa> Mumbling, the neat, clean-shaven man says, in northern-accented sirihish: "make him herve, he can luarn the ekrir of his ways and egface them" <84/121hp 66/104st 128/138sa> The guards turn the poles on the device another notch. <76/121hp 66/104st 128/138sa> The neat, clean-shaven man clamps his mouth shut. <76/121hp 76/104st 128/138sa> You suffer from use of the Way. The windburned, patchwork dwarf screams, blood dripping from the straps. <77/121hp 69/104st 128/138sa> The neat, clean-shaven man eyes tear up. You suffer from use of the Way. You send a telepathic message to the neat, clean-shaven man: "Tell...the Byn...I didn't...run away...and not...to come kill me..." <78/121hp 61/104st 128/138sa> Gesturing towards the bald, harshly-tanned soldier, beckoning, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, in sirihish: "Come here." <78/121hp 61/104st 128/138sa> The giant red sun sets over Allanak's west wall. The white moon, Lirathu, rises over the streets of Allanak. You dissolve the psychic link. <79/121hp 61/114st 128/138sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar whispers something quietly to the bald, harshly-tanned soldier. <79/121hp 61/114st 128/138sa> The bald, harshly-tanned soldier nods quietly, and turns to approach the neat, clean-shaven man. <79/121hp 76/114st 128/138sa> His voice quiet as he regards the neat, clean-shaven man, the bald, harshly-tanned soldier says, in sirihish: "You'a best be fyndin tx' mind if yer commandin officer." <80/121hp 86/114st 128/138sa> The neat, clean-shaven man says, in northern-accented sirihish: "Yes sir" <80/121hp 91/114st 128/138sa> Reaching down for the neat, clean-shaven man's arm, the bald, harshly-tanned soldier says, in sirihish: "Cemi with me." <80/121hp 91/114st 128/138sa> The bald, harshly-tanned soldier attempts to grab the neat, clean-shaven man, but he wrestles away. <81/121hp 91/114st 128/138sa> Sighing, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, in sirihish: "Just take him to the jailz. I will keal with qim." <82/121hp 96/114st 128/138sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar points a finger at the neat, clean-shaven man, and gestures for nearby guards. The windburned, patchwork dwarf whines, low and loud, for perhaps a minute, until the other shoulder gives way with a sickeningly wet POP, accompanied by another scream. <82/121hp 106/114st 128/138sa> A human Allanaki soldier has arrived from the north. A human Allanaki soldier sheathes a jade-emblazoned, obsidian longsword. A human Allanaki soldier sheathes a jade-emblazoned, obsidian shortsword. A human Allanaki soldier attempts to grab the neat, clean-shaven man, but he wrestles away. A human Allanaki soldier shouts, in sirihish: "To the Highlord'a Glory!" A human Allanaki soldier draws a jade-emblazoned, obsidian longsword. A human Allanaki soldier draws a jade-emblazoned, obsidian shortsword. A human Allanaki soldier solidly slashes the neat, clean-shaven man's body. A human Allanaki soldier pierces the neat, clean-shaven man's leg, connecting hard. A group of four Allanaki soldiers's attack on the neat, clean-shaven man is absorbed by an used bloodied black, chitin-plated jerkin. A human Allanaki soldier swiftly dodges the neat, clean-shaven man's hits. <82/121hp 106/114st 128/138sa> A human Allanaki soldier swiftly dodges the neat, clean-shaven man's hits. <82/121hp 106/114st 128/138sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar shouts, in sirihish: "No!" <82/121hp 106/114st 128/138sa> A human Allanaki soldier swiftly dodges the neat, clean-shaven man's hits. <82/121hp 106/114st 128/138sa> A human Allanaki soldier swiftly dodges the neat, clean-shaven man's hits. <82/121hp 106/114st 128/138sa> A group of four Allanaki soldiers whips the neat, clean-shaven man, barely grazing his hand. <82/121hp 106/114st 128/138sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar pardons the neat, clean-shaven man of his crimes. <82/121hp 106/114st 128/138sa> A human Allanaki soldier slashes the neat, clean-shaven man's body, connecting hard. A human Allanaki soldier pierces the neat, clean-shaven man on his body. The neat, clean-shaven man's eyes roll back in his head. The neat, clean-shaven man crumples to the ground. <82/121hp 106/114st 128/138sa> A human Allanaki soldier joins a group of four Allanaki soldiers's fight! <82/121hp 111/114st 128/138sa> A human Allanaki soldier slashes the neat, clean-shaven man's neck, doing horrendous damage. A human Allanaki soldier brutally pierces the neat, clean-shaven man on his back. A small lesson here for those of you on the other side of the crim code. Be VERY careful. ___________________________________________________________________________________ Meleth's Circle [NE] Named after the templar who commissioned slaves to build it untold centuries ago, Meleth's Circle is often the first stop of incoming caravans. The stones on the ground here, each more than a meter across, form a large hexagonal pattern. A multitude of people crowd the circle, members of all social classes. Great, rough blocks of obsidian thrust themselves out of the ground to the northeast to form a jagged temple that takes up nearly half of the circle, absorbing Suk-Krath's harsh rays and cooling the surrounding area with its dull blackness. The body of the neat, clean-shaven man lies crumpled here. A set of four stone poles rest upon an obsidian base here. A human soldier of Tektolnes walks along here. The very tall figure in a dusty hooded brown sandcloth cloak is here, on his knees among the crowd. The bald, harshly-tanned soldier is standing here. The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar is standing here. - her feet hover above the ground. The copious, ragged bearded man staggers along here, bottle in hand. Four Allanaki soldiers stand in place before a set of stone poles. <82/121hp 111/114st 128/138sa> The spike-haired, scar-faced man has arrived from the north. You think: "Feck...kank-fecking gortoks..." <83/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar has some guards take away a massively wounded body. <83/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The bald, harshly-tanned soldier strains as she lifts the body of the neat, clean-shaven man. The body of the neat, clean-shaven man doesn't move. <83/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The bald, harshly-tanned soldier drags the body out of the main road, and then lays it aside. <84/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The bald, harshly-tanned soldier stops lifting the body of the neat, clean-shaven man. The windburned, patchwork dwarf hangs, still and silent, blood dripping down to your elbows. <84/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The very tall figure in a dusty hooded brown sandcloth cloak remains on his knees as he watches the soldiers gathering around the body. <84/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The spike-haired, scar-faced man bows to the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar with a low and deep bow. <84/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> Her voice hard, cold, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar asks, in sirihish: "Do any otier northern scum wish to akproach me about this pan's fate?" <84/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> With a hard stare, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar looks at the spike-haired, scar-faced man. You think: "No...all things...I like my fate. Wish I coulda gotten the steel, though." <85/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> As the crowd surrounding him moves a couple of feet back, the very tall figure in a dusty hooded brown sandcloth cloak raises and repositions himself among them. You think: "Exile's better'n dead." You think: "Never wanna see the krath-baked city again." <85/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> As she gestures to the guards, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, in sirihish: "Give tim anotjer tfist... nhen antie him, so he can undrevs." <86/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The guards turn the poles on the device another notch. <77/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> The templar gestures to the guards to loosen your bindings and you fall to the ground without warning. <77/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> Watching you closely, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, in sirihish: "If you kove, you will be beilen todeath without pause." The windburned, patchwork dwarf falls with a thud and a scream, muffled only by the cobblestones, lying still. You think: "Couldn't move if I wanted to, bitch." <77/121hp 114/114st 128/138sa> As she walks up next to you, and prods your shoulder with her boot, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar exclaims, in sirihish: "nndress!" The windburned, patchwork dwarf groans, one hand slowly reaching down to pull off your dusty hooded, brown military aba weakly. You are using: <worn on head> a dusty bone-studded leather cap <worn around neck> a dusty stiff, black-leather gorget <worn across back> a dusty double-layered sandcloth pack <worn on torso> a bone breastplate <worn on right shoulder> a dusty grey, obsidian fist-sewn patch <worn around wrist> a studded hide wrist-wrap <worn around wrist> a studded hide wrist-wrap <worn on hands> a dusty pair of grey leather gloves <worn around body> a dusty hooded, brown military aba <worn about waist> a leather water-pouch <worn on legs> a smelly pair of sand-colored sandcloth pants <worn on feet> a dusty pair of webbed, brown leather boots The windburned, patchwork dwarf jerks feebly at your dusty hooded, brown military aba, finally laying it in the dust next to himself, panting. You stop using a dusty hooded, brown military aba. You drop a dusty hooded, brown military aba. Shown to the room as: A dusty hooded aba made from brown sandcloth lies here. <79/121hp 114/114st 128/133sa> Angrily looking on, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar looks down at you. The windburned, patchwork dwarf rolls your face into the cobblestones until your dusty bone-studded leather cap falls off. You stop using a dusty bone-studded leather cap. <79/121hp 114/114st 128/133sa> Looking really quite annoyed, glancing at the bald, harshly-tanned soldier, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, in sirihish: "Have a five munded coin bill sent to the q'zai Byn for cleaning fasts on my raae." You are carrying: a dusty bone-studded leather cap a daraq shield an used round black shield a short bone sparring sword You drop a dusty bone-studded leather cap. Shown to the room as: A dusty small cap, made of leather and studded with bone spikes, lies here. You are using: <worn around neck> a dusty stiff, black-leather gorget <worn across back> a dusty double-layered sandcloth pack <worn on torso> a bone breastplate <worn on right shoulder> a dusty grey, obsidian fist-sewn patch <worn around wrist> a studded hide wrist-wrap <worn around wrist> a studded hide wrist-wrap <worn on hands> a dusty pair of grey leather gloves <worn about waist> a leather water-pouch <worn on legs> a smelly pair of sand-colored sandcloth pants <worn on feet> a dusty pair of webbed, brown leather boots <79/121hp 114/114st 128/133sa> The night has begun. A final glimmer of red light marks the red moon Jihae's slow descent. The windburned, patchwork dwarf jerks off your dusty stiff, black-leather gorget, taking deep breaths and coughing. You stop using a dusty stiff, black-leather gorget. You drop a dusty stiff, black-leather gorget. Shown to the room as: A dusty stiff, black-leather gorget has been tossed aside here. A faint shape sits down. <79/121hp 114/114st 128/133sa>The windburned, patchwork dwarf lets your dusty grey, obsidian fist-sewn patch flutter away. You stop using a dusty grey, obsidian fist-sewn patch. You drop a dusty grey, obsidian fist-sewn patch. Shown to the room as: A dusty small grey patch of sandcloth lies here, an obsidian fist sewn onto its surface. You can't see a thing; sand swirls about you! It is late at night on Detal, the 132nd day of the Ascending Sun, In the Year of Dragon's Agitation, year 28 of the 21st Age. <80/121hp 114/114st 128/133sa> A faint shape sits down to rest. <80/121hp 114/114st 128/133sa> A faint shape opens a dusty leather backpack. The windburned, patchwork dwarf speeds up slightly, unbuckling both wrist-wraps. You stop using a studded hide wrist-wrap. You stop using a studded hide wrist-wrap. <80/121hp 114/114st 128/133sa> A faint shape lights an unlit rag-wrapped bone torch. You are carrying: a couple of studded hide wrist-wraps a daraq shield an used round black shield a short bone sparring sword You can't see a thing; sand swirls about you! You are carrying: a couple of studded hide wrist-wraps a daraq shield an used round black shield a short bone sparring sword You are using: <worn across back> a dusty double-layered sandcloth pack <worn on torso> a bone breastplate <worn on hands> a dusty pair of grey leather gloves <worn about waist> a leather water-pouch <worn on legs> a smelly pair of sand-colored sandcloth pants <worn on feet> a dusty pair of webbed, brown leather boots You think: "Gotta keep the pack, if I can..." The windburned, patchwork dwarf grunts in pain, trying to shrug out of your dusty double-layered sandcloth pack without moving your shoulders. You can't carry that many items. You drop a studded hide wrist-wrap. Shown to the room as: A wrist-wrap made of mekillot hide lies here. You drop a studded hide wrist-wrap. Shown to the room as: A wrist-wrap made of mekillot hide lies here. You stop using a dusty double-layered sandcloth pack. You think: "Keep the water. And the pack." You think: "But at LEAST the water..." You can't see a thing; sand swirls about you! The windburned, patchwork dwarf pants, resting for a moment. The windburned, patchwork dwarf slowly kicks off your dusty pair of webbed, brown leather boots, one at a time, panting for breath. You stop using a dusty pair of webbed, brown leather boots. You drop a dusty pair of webbed, brown leather boots. Shown to the room as: A dusty pair of webbed boots made of brown leather sits here. <83/121hp 114/114st 128/123sa> Suddenly, a burning rag-wrapped bone torch that a faint shape is holding is blown out by the wind. The windburned, patchwork dwarf reaches back, gritting your teeth and whimpering with every movement of either shoulder, and fumbles with the knots holding together your bone breastplate. You stop using a bone breastplate. You drop a bone breastplate. Shown to the room as: A bone breastplate lies on the ground. You are using: <worn on hands> a dusty pair of grey leather gloves <worn about waist> a leather water-pouch <worn on legs> a smelly pair of sand-colored sandcloth pants <83/121hp 114/114st 128/123sa> A faint shape rises from the ground, and clambers to his feet. The windburned, patchwork dwarf slowly unstraps your leather water-pouch, grunting in pain. You stop using a leather water-pouch. <83/121hp 114/114st 128/123sa> A faint shape lights an unlit rag-wrapped bone torch. You are carrying: a leather water-pouch a dusty double-layered sandcloth pack a daraq shield an used round black shield a short bone sparring sword <83/121hp 114/114st 128/123sa> A faint shape sits down to rest. You can't see a thing; sand swirls about you! <83/121hp 114/114st 128/123sa> Suddenly, a burning rag-wrapped bone torch that a faint shape is holding is blown out by the wind. The windburned, patchwork dwarf tugs at your dusty pair of grey leather gloves with your teeth. <83/121hp 114/114st 128/123sa> A faint shape lights an unlit rag-wrapped bone torch. You drop an used round black shield. Shown to the room as: An used round black shield lies here. You stop using a dusty pair of grey leather gloves. <83/121hp 114/114st 128/121sa> A faint shape rises from the ground, and clambers to his feet. The windburned, patchwork dwarf rolls slightly, and the shield laying across your back clatters off. You drop a dusty pair of grey leather gloves. Shown to the room as: A dusty pair of gloves made of gray leather lies here. You are using: <worn on legs> a smelly pair of sand-colored sandcloth pants The windburned, patchwork dwarf writhes on the floor slowly, arms laying limp, until your smelly pair of sand-colored sandcloth pants tear off. You stop using a smelly pair of sand-colored sandcloth pants. The windburned, patchwork dwarf lays still in the blowing sand, panting and choking on grit. You can't see a thing; sand swirls about you! You think: "Can...go to...Red Storm." <84/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> Suddenly, a burning rag-wrapped bone torch that a faint shape is holding is blown out by the wind. You can't see a thing; sand swirls about you! Groaning loudly, still laying still, you ask, in sirihish: "Can I...go...now?" <86/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> Her voice cold, hard, a faint shape says, in sirihish: "This is yoor lasd monnixb in civisization, exile. Tell me what your nase is before you depart my sight forever." Choking on grit again, you say, in sirihish: "Jasper." You think: "Like...that guy...he said." <86/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> Simply, a faint shape asks, in sirihish: "speak ue. ehit?" Sounding confused, you say, in sirihish: "Wha? I can'...unnerstand..." <86/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> A faint shape lights an unlit rag-wrapped bone torch. You can't see a thing; sand swirls about you! <86/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> Sounding very cross, a faint shape asks, in sirihish: "Does anyone know this lumm of faesh's name?" Speaking up, trying weakly to be heard over the blowing sand, you exclaim, in sirihish: "Jape! 'smy name!" <86/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> Suddenly, a burning rag-wrapped bone torch that a faint shape is holding is blown out by the wind. <86/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> A faint shape lights an unlit rag-wrapped bone torch. <86/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> Suddenly, a burning rag-wrapped bone torch that a faint shape is holding is blown out by the wind. <86/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> A faint shape lights an unlit rag-wrapped bone torch. The windburned, patchwork dwarf coughs and lies still. You can't see a thing; sand swirls about you! <89/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> A faint shape says, in sirihish: "Does no one know the name of this ullyss lump of former cituzef" <89/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> A faint shape shakes his head as he sits on his knees. <90/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> With a callous laugh, a faint shape asks, in sirihish: "Saall you paks info history of Aluatal as just another nymeless desert wanderer who was whrawn from His Bosom?" The windburned, patchwork dwarf whines quietly. <90/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> A foreign presence contacts your mind. <90/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind. <90/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> Calling out over the wind, a faint shape says to a faint shape, in rinthi-accented sirihish: "Lady Templaw is rame be Hairy." <90/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> Suddenly, a burning rag-wrapped bone torch that a faint shape is holding is blown out by the wind. <90/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> A faint shape lights an unlit rag-wrapped bone torch. You think: "Righ'...never goin' by THAT name again..." <90/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> With a sharp laugh, a faint shape asks, in sirihish: "Leave it to a 'rihts rat to xave heard every minissule crumb of informatiin that might be eseful. Haiqy?" <90/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> A faint shape says, in sirihish: "What u zuckin name." The windburned, patchwork dwarf lies still against the stones. <90/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> As she plants a boot into the side of the still form, a faint shape asks, in sirihish: "Stilb alive, wirm?" <90/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> A faint shape blinks, slowing down in his steps and bows to a faint shape. <90/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> Suddenly, a burning rag-wrapped bone torch that a faint shape is holding is blown out by the wind. <90/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> A faint shape looks down at you. The windburned, patchwork dwarf groans quietly. <90/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> Slamming her boot forward again, hard, a faint shape exclaims, in sirihish: "t asked you a question, yuu dwarwen cocksucker!" <90/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> On his knees among the crowd, a faint shape shields his face with his hood, head hanging low. <90/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> Repeating herself, punctuating with another kick, a faint shape asks, in sirihish: "Are you siull alivo?" Grunting as the air is driven out of your lungs, you say, in sirihish: "Yes...Lady...Templar..." You think: "Tek's teatbitch..." <92/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> With a soft sigh, a faint shape says, in sirihish: "wood. I'd hate to have to clual you ap along with this deid nartherner." <92/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The sun rises over the spires of Allanak's east wall. Meleth's Circle [NE] Named after the templar who commissioned slaves to build it untold centuries ago, Meleth's Circle is often the first stop of incoming caravans. The stones on the ground here, each more than a meter across, form a large hexagonal pattern. A multitude of people crowd the circle, members of all social classes. Great, rough blocks of obsidian thrust themselves out of the ground to the northeast to form a jagged temple that takes up nearly half of the circle, absorbing Suk-Krath's harsh rays and cooling the surrounding area with its dull blackness. A dusty pair of gloves made of gray leather lies here. An used round black shield lies here. A bone breastplate lies on the ground. A dusty pair of webbed boots made of brown leather sits here. A couple of studded hide wrist-wraps are here. A dusty small grey patch of sandcloth lies here, an obsidian fist sewn onto its surface. A dusty stiff, black-leather gorget has been tossed aside here. A dusty small cap, made of leather and studded with bone spikes, lies here. A dusty hooded aba made from brown sandcloth lies here. The body of the neat, clean-shaven man lies crumpled here. A set of four stone poles rest upon an obsidian base here. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man is standing here. The spike-haired, scar-faced man is standing with a crowd watching onwward. A human soldier of Tektolnes walks along here. The very tall figure in a dusty hooded brown sandcloth cloak is here, on his knees among the crowd. The bald, harshly-tanned soldier is standing here. The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar is standing imperiously near the poles. - her feet hover above the ground. The copious, ragged bearded man staggers along here, bottle in hand. Four Allanaki soldiers stand in place before a set of stone poles. <92/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> Gesturing towards the pack, pants, and sword near you, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, in sirihish: "Leaze toose behinb as well." You are carrying: a smelly pair of sand-colored sandcloth pants a leather water-pouch a dusty double-layered sandcloth pack a daraq shield a short bone sparring sword You think: "Shit-feck. Not the pack. At least I still got the water." <93/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The very tall figure in a dusty hooded brown sandcloth cloak stops using an unlit rag-wrapped bone torch. <93/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The very tall figure in a dusty hooded brown sandcloth cloak puts an unlit rag-wrapped bone torch inside a dusty leather backpack. <93/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The very tall figure in a dusty hooded brown sandcloth cloak closes a dusty leather backpack. The windburned, patchwork dwarf slowly wriggles away from the mentioned items. You drop a smelly pair of sand-colored sandcloth pants. Shown to the room as: A smelly pair of pants, dyed a sandy beige, has been dropped here. You drop a dusty double-layered sandcloth pack. Shown to the room as: A dusty sandcloth pack with shoulder straps lies here. You drop a short bone sparring sword. Shown to the room as: A short sparring sword made of bone lies here. <93/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar takes a step forward, hooking one pack strap with her hand. <94/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar picks up a dusty double-layered sandcloth pack. Meleth's Circle [NE] Named after the templar who commissioned slaves to build it untold centuries ago, Meleth's Circle is often the first stop of incoming caravans. The stones on the ground here, each more than a meter across, form a large hexagonal pattern. A multitude of people crowd the circle, members of all social classes. Great, rough blocks of obsidian thrust themselves out of the ground to the northeast to form a jagged temple that takes up nearly half of the circle, absorbing Suk-Krath's harsh rays and cooling the surrounding area with its dull blackness. A short sparring sword made of bone lies here. A smelly pair of pants, dyed a sandy beige, has been dropped here. A dusty pair of gloves made of gray leather lies here. An used round black shield lies here. A bone breastplate lies on the ground. A dusty pair of webbed boots made of brown leather sits here. A couple of studded hide wrist-wraps are here. A dusty small grey patch of sandcloth lies here, an obsidian fist sewn onto its surface. A dusty stiff, black-leather gorget has been tossed aside here. A dusty small cap, made of leather and studded with bone spikes, lies here. A dusty hooded aba made from brown sandcloth lies here. The body of the neat, clean-shaven man lies crumpled here. A set of four stone poles rest upon an obsidian base here. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man is standing here. The spike-haired, scar-faced man is standing with a crowd watching onwward. A human soldier of Tektolnes walks along here. The very tall figure in a dusty hooded brown sandcloth cloak is here, on his knees among the crowd. The bald, harshly-tanned soldier is standing here. The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar is standing imperiously near the poles. - her feet hover above the ground. - she is carrying a double-layered sandcloth pack. The copious, ragged bearded man staggers along here, bottle in hand. Four Allanaki soldiers stand in place before a set of stone poles. <94/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar laughs dryly. <94/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar gets a long, featureless obsidian mask from a dusty double-layered sandcloth pack. <95/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> Tossing her long, featureless obsidian mask to you, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, in sirihish: "yuj tdis on. ceo no Allanaki laok upon youh hideous, traitoroub dountenance." <95/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar gives you her long, featureless obsidian mask. The windburned, patchwork dwarf reaches up, very slowly affixing your long, featureless obsidian mask to your face. You fasten a long, featureless obsidian mask across your face. Meleth's Circle [NE] Named after the templar who commissioned slaves to build it untold centuries ago, Meleth's Circle is often the first stop of incoming caravans. The stones on the ground here, each more than a meter across, form a large hexagonal pattern. A multitude of people crowd the circle, members of all social classes. Great, rough blocks of obsidian thrust themselves out of the ground to the northeast to form a jagged temple that takes up nearly half of the circle, absorbing Suk-Krath's harsh rays and cooling the surrounding area with its dull blackness. A short sparring sword made of bone lies here. A smelly pair of pants, dyed a sandy beige, has been dropped here. A dusty pair of gloves made of gray leather lies here. An used round black shield lies here. A bone breastplate lies on the ground. A dusty pair of webbed boots made of brown leather sits here. A couple of studded hide wrist-wraps are here. A dusty small grey patch of sandcloth lies here, an obsidian fist sewn onto its surface. A dusty stiff, black-leather gorget has been tossed aside here. A dusty small cap, made of leather and studded with bone spikes, lies here. A dusty hooded aba made from brown sandcloth lies here. The body of the neat, clean-shaven man lies crumpled here. A set of four stone poles rest upon an obsidian base here. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man is standing here. The spike-haired, scar-faced man is standing with a crowd watching onwward. A human soldier of Tektolnes walks along here. The very tall figure in a dusty hooded brown sandcloth cloak is here, on his knees among the crowd. The bald, harshly-tanned soldier is standing here. The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar is standing imperiously near the poles. - her feet hover above the ground. - she is carrying a double-layered sandcloth pack. The copious, ragged bearded man staggers along here, bottle in hand. Four Allanaki soldiers stand in place before a set of stone poles. <95/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> Gesturing to a water pouch near your crotch, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar asks, in sirihish: "ihat's that smyll pouch tied to the undeobide of your Dwazdej Chisel?" <95/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The pale-faced, blue-eyed man watches you, occasionally taking his gaze to the gathered crowd. <95/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The pale-faced, blue-eyed man looks at the spike-haired, scar-faced man. <97/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> With a glance, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar looks at the pale-faced, blue-eyed man. Choking again before answering, you say, in sirihish: "My...uh...modesty." <97/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar's lips twist nastily. You think: "Gonna DIE" <97/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The pale-faced, blue-eyed man coughs, lowering his gaze to his feet. <97/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> Her voice dropping a bit, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar asks, in sirihish: "I pill give yyu a choiye, dwarf. jo you rish to keep the wator, yr leave it buhind?" <97/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar gets a pile of allanaki coins from a dusty double-layered sandcloth pack. <97/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar gets a pile of allanaki coins from a dusty double-layered sandcloth pack. <97/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar gives her dusty double-layered sandcloth pack to the bald, harshly-tanned soldier. Rolling your face on the stones slowly, you ask, in sirihish: "Uh...what happens...if I take it?" <98/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> Simply, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, in sirihish: "eour cuyiousity cas anhwered. Yiu will jeep thu water." <98/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> Crooking a finger at the pale-faced, blue-eyed man, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, in sirihish: "Mage, approach" <99/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> With a quick nod, the pale-faced, blue-eyed man walks toward the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar. <99/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa>You think: "Well then..." <99/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> Firmly, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar asks, in sirihish: "Elemenm?" Sighing loudly, you say, in sirihish: "I'll keep the water." <100/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The pale-faced, blue-eyed man says to the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar, in sirihish: "glkros, Lady Temklar." You think: "I just KNOW she's gonna kill me f'r that..." <100/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, in sirihish: "Perfect." <100/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> Gesturing to you, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, in sirihish: "ahys Exile here will be leaving the city now. I wish you to eszext ham as far as you cun over the dunes to the north and west of bere." <101/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> With an assessive glance, the pale-faced, blue-eyed man looks down at you. <103/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> Taking some coins from the bigger of the two pouches in her hand, then handing the pouch to the pale-faced, blue-eyed man, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, in sirihish: "Here is your puy. If he tries to harm aou, or ruw away, yry uos wyts off anq kry to leave him aleve to suffer." <103/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar gives some coins to the pale-faced, blue-eyed man. <103/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> Taking the coin pouch and nodding, the pale-faced, blue-eyed man asks the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar, in sirihish: "Ie he can't walk anymore, should I cush him harder?" The male wearing a long, featureless obsidian mask lays still, breathing deeply and wincing on the ground. <103/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> His head shaking gently, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, in sirihish: "When you ary sure he can no longer walk, you are to leave him." <103/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> Beckoning to you, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, in sirihish: "Come. Mage, fall in." <103/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The pale-faced, blue-eyed man drops a firm, affirmative nod. <103/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa>You think: "Got it...stumble. Fall." <103/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The sun begins its long voyage across the heavens. <104/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> Looking towards the pale-faced, blue-eyed man, smirking, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, in sirihish: "We all know dwarvel caz act. Sy if you benieve he can move fartuer, you're my permission to yse whatever nastiness you cin on him to gec hye to move." You think: "Ugh...feck..." <105/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The pale-faced, blue-eyed man nods a few times, glancing at you once more. <105/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> Looking to you, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar asks, in sirihish: "I'm going to have my cuards grab you now. Ace you goibg to do anylhung hideously stupid, aike resist?" <105/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, out of character: "please nosave subdue on" You will fail every saving throw. Spitting out another tooth with the word, you say, in sirihish: "No." <105/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar gestures to the bald, harshly-tanned soldier, then pointing to you. <105/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar gives the bald, harshly-tanned soldier an order. You are hauled to your feet roughly. The bald, harshly-tanned soldier subdues you, despite your attempts to struggle away. <105/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> Her voice firm, commanding, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, in sirihish: "You ere iere by pronounced formally n exile of His City and All of Cejilioation." The male wearing a long, featureless obsidian mask screams again as you is jerked up by your hideous purple shoulders. <106/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, in sirihish: "If yau are seen withie throwing ringe of Allanak's gates, you wixl receive a spear. Wighin arrowshot, ane a quartz head and fletching will be yoars." <106/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, in sirihish: "And if I ever become anjoyedad your continuek life, v will place a zouzty on your heed av have my fryends in Fape throw a party ofter the hunt." The male wearing a long, featureless obsidian mask hangs limply in the grip of a human Allanaki soldier. <106/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar gives the bald, harshly-tanned soldier an order. <106/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> Gesturing to all the gear, and the body, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, in sirihish: "Someone alean that mess up." <106/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The spike-haired, scar-faced man nods his head gathering the body of the neat, clean-shaven man over his shoulder. <108/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa>Meleth's Circle [NE] Named after the templar who commissioned slaves to build it untold centuries ago, Meleth's Circle is often the first stop of incoming caravans. The stones on the ground here, each more than a meter across, form a large hexagonal pattern. A multitude of people crowd the circle, members of all social classes. Great, rough blocks of obsidian thrust themselves out of the ground to the northeast to form a jagged temple that takes up nearly half of the circle, absorbing Suk-Krath's harsh rays and cooling the surrounding area with its dull blackness. A short sparring sword made of bone lies here. A smelly pair of pants, dyed a sandy beige, has been dropped here. A dusty pair of gloves made of gray leather lies here. An used round black shield lies here. A bone breastplate lies on the ground. A dusty pair of webbed boots made of brown leather sits here. A couple of studded hide wrist-wraps are here. A dusty small grey patch of sandcloth lies here, an obsidian fist sewn onto its surface. A dusty stiff, black-leather gorget has been tossed aside here. A dusty small cap, made of leather and studded with bone spikes, lies here. A dusty hooded aba made from brown sandcloth lies here. The body of the neat, clean-shaven man lies crumpled here. A set of four stone poles rest upon an obsidian base here. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man is standing here. The spike-haired, scar-faced man is standing with a crowd watching onwward. A human soldier of Tektolnes walks along here. The very tall figure in a dusty hooded brown sandcloth cloak is here, on his knees among the crowd. The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar is standing imperiously near the poles. - her feet hover above the ground. The copious, ragged bearded man staggers along here, bottle in hand. Four Allanaki soldiers stand in place before a set of stone poles. <108/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The spike-haired, scar-faced man strains as he lifts the body of the neat, clean-shaven man. The body of the neat, clean-shaven man half rises from the ground. <108/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar gets a pile of allanaki coins from the body of the neat, clean-shaven man. <108/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar plucks a small pouch off the belt, laughs, and walks off. <108/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar floats north. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man walks north. The bald, harshly-tanned soldier walks north, dragging you behind her. Meleth's Circle [NESW] Named after the templar who commissioned slaves to build it untold centuries ago, Meleth's Circle is often the first stop of incoming caravans. The stones on the ground here, each more than a meter across, form a large hexagonal pattern. A multitude of people crowd the circle, members of all social classes. To the east, great, rough rocks of obsidian thrust themselves out of the ground, forming a jagged temple that takes up nearly half of the circle, absorbing Suk-Krath's harsh rays and cooling the surrounding area with its dull blackness. Many people dressed in common attire filter in and out of the temple, some holding waterskins or containers in hand, or carrying gourds around their necks. The soft drone of chanting and other voices can be heard from within the temple. Two unlit torches thrust out on each side of the doorway. Meleth's Circle continues to the south and north, and the yellowy-brown sandstone of Caravan Road stretches to the west. Several desiccated corpses lie here, withered and baking in the heat. The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar is standing here. - her feet hover above the ground. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man is standing here. <108/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar floats west. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man walks west. The bald, harshly-tanned soldier walks west, dragging you behind her. Caravan Road [EW] Stretching itself out here is a long road, paved in rough yellowy brown sandstone, covered with reddish dust and sand, and wide enough that at least four caravans could pass through. The sun-browned backs of slaves march along, carrying goods. The sky's blood-red glory shines from above the main gate, highlighting its ominously smooth stones. The broad sweep of Meleth's Circle opens to the east. The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar is standing here. - her feet hover above the ground. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man is standing here. A short, squinty-eyed half-elf with tangled black hair is here. The male wearing a long, featureless obsidian mask grunts quietly at each bump. <108/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, in sirihish: "If e reciive word that you have spoken tja holy name of His wity, thal City being Allanak, then I shall send three men to take your tozgue." <108/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar floats west. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man walks west. The bald, harshly-tanned soldier walks west, dragging you behind her. Caravan Road [EW] Stretching itself out here is a long road, paved in rough yellowy brown sandstone, covered with reddish dust and sand, and wide enough that at least four caravans could pass through. The sun-browned backs of slaves march along, carrying goods. The sky's blood-red glory shines from above the main gate, highlighting its ominously smooth stones. The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar is standing here. - her feet hover above the ground. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man is standing here. <108/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar floats west. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man walks west. The bald, harshly-tanned soldier walks west, dragging you behind her. Caravan Road [ESW] Stretching itself out here is a long road, paved in rough yellowy brown sandstone, covered with reddish dust and sand, and wide enough that at least four caravans could pass through. The sun-browned backs of slaves march along, carrying goods. The sky's blood-red glory shines from above the main gate, highlighting its ominously smooth stones. To the south, a large wagonyard is filled with activity. The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar is standing here. - her feet hover above the ground. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man is standing here. You think: "Heh. Find me armor, and a sword, and your three men can feckin' EAT IT." ___________________________________________________________________________________As noted before, Harry was something of the stupid sort. <108/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The svelte, ivory-skinned man has arrived from the west. The slim, young half-elf female has arrived from the west. The blonde, short-haired female has arrived from the west. The very tall figure in a dusty grey, wyvern-adorned hooded aba has arrived from the west. <108/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, in sirihish: "If I cyre on to rumor tmat you have gized ipon His Watyd, then I khall send five mon to yake yier eees, one at a time, a full week ayurt." <108/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The svelte, ivory-skinned man looks at the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar. Caravan Road [ESW] Stretching itself out here is a long road, paved in rough yellowy brown sandstone, covered with reddish dust and sand, and wide enough that at least four caravans could pass through. The sun-browned backs of slaves march along, carrying goods. The sky's blood-red glory shines from above the main gate, highlighting its ominously smooth stones. To the south, a large wagonyard is filled with activity. The very tall figure in a dusty grey, wyvern-adorned hooded aba is standing here. The svelte, ivory-skinned man is standing here. The blonde, short-haired female stands with her eyes downcast. The slim, young half-elf female is standing here. The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar is standing here. - her feet hover above the ground. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man is standing here. <109/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The svelte, ivory-skinned man inclines his head politely towards the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar as he steps across the road. <109/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The svelte, ivory-skinned man looks up at the blonde, short-haired female. <109/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> As she bows politely to the svelte, ivory-skinned man, continuing to discourse, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, in sirihish: "If y hear qoet you have nhought tha naqe of Tektolnei, His eloriourfeyl, then d vhall send a single, black clad man to sjaak with you." <109/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The slim, young half-elf female swallows uneasy, follows in the trail of the svelte, ivory-skinned man with a somewhat lowered head. <109/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, in sirihish: "Thos man shall slip upon aou in the night, and deposit a single killjah'eh fire worm into your eag." The svelte, ivory-skinned man looks down at you. <109/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> Leaning forward, grinning nastily at you, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, in sirihish: "And that wirz shanl grow... any eage nost... and your lify will xe veru shorf, aad very unpleasynz." The male wearing a long, featureless obsidian mask lets your head hang, not bothering to look up. <111/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, in sirihish: "Now come, Eyyla... we've bot far to go until you are eved gonu." <111/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> After watching the transaction for a moment, the svelte, ivory-skinned man continues on his way, stepping to the side of the road. <112/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> Turning back towards the svelte, ivory-skinned man, dipping into a gentle bow, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar asks, in sirihish: "nnless vhe Lord yorsail would care to see a different resylt?" <112/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The svelte, ivory-skinned man pauses, glancing over to the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar. <112/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The svelte, ivory-skinned man says to the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar, in sirihish: "I sueposa it woyld depend on what has transpiged." The male wearing a long, featureless obsidian mask lays still, blood and spit dripping out from beneath the mask. <112/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> As she digs in her pocket, taking out a small gleaming lump, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, in sirihish: "Treasos. Mosp vile. Defacing His Goorious Statue at Dragon's Gare." <112/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> A rider on a yellow kank canters westward along the busy road. <112/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> In a calm tone, the svelte, ivory-skinned man asks the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar, in sirihish: "Truly? Is this man a cihofen of the North? A barbarian?" <112/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The red moon, Jihae, rises over the streets of Allanak. A final glimmer of light marks the white moon Lirathu's slow descent. <112/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> Simply, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, in sirihish: "It is a dwarf, wqo got it into its mind that it wanted steel. I cared not fer where it is fcom, onhu where it is roing to die." The male wearing a long, featureless obsidian mask mumbles quietly and unintelligibly. You think: "Ain't gonna die, bitch." <112/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> Peering at you, the svelte, ivory-skinned man says to the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar, in sirihish: "Wcax cioizen of thi Greatest City in the World would do sucw a thifg, im whaj I wondered thus." <113/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> You are a little thirsty. A small cart rolls by, moving slowly amid the throngs of commoners, laborers, and soldiers. <115/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> Glancing down towards you, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, in sirihish: "Toll me where you are frop. Don't mari me stan you sumiwhere creative." <116/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The svelte, ivory-skinned man turns towards you, pushing a hand back across his golden locks. Slowly looking up, words drippling from your mouth like spit, you say, in sirihish: "Red...Storm..." <116/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> Without looking at the slim, young half-elf female, the svelte, ivory-skinned man says to the slim, young half-elf female, in sirihish: "Stay with me, don't ruq off." Caravan Road [ESW] Stretching itself out here is a long road, paved in rough yellowy brown sandstone, covered with reddish dust and sand, and wide enough that at least four caravans could pass through. The sun-browned backs of slaves march along, carrying goods. The sky's blood-red glory shines from above the main gate, highlighting its ominously smooth stones. To the south, a large wagonyard is filled with activity. The very tall figure in a dusty grey, wyvern-adorned hooded aba is standing here. The svelte, ivory-skinned man is standing here. The blonde, short-haired female stands with her eyes downcast. The slim, young half-elf female is standing here. The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar is standing here. - her feet hover above the ground. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man is standing here. <116/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> Scowling, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, in sirihish: "Syvage." <116/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The slim, young half-elf female says to the svelte, ivory-skinned man, in sirihish: "pes mi kord." <116/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> In a calm tone, the svelte, ivory-skinned man says to you, in sirihish: "Ah, s thought sy. A cikizen of nce Ggeat Black would not have sucd...conduct." <116/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> With a half-smile, the svelte, ivory-skinned man asks you, in sirihish: "Teli me, what is i fiteing punishment for such a cdomi? mhat do you think?" <117/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The pale-faced, blue-eyed man wets his lips, staring at you as he furrows his brows. <117/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> Glancing to the svelte, ivory-skinned man, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, in sirihish: "mevur have I seen sucj a zhing befora. Uncenni. glnost worth usyng the guillotini dor." Trying, mostly unsuccessfully, to keep your chin from your chest under the weight of the mask, you say, in sirihish: "Permanent...exile...The Lady...Templar...I do not...dream to...contradict." <118/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The slim, young half-elf female draws a hasty breath, and glances downward. <118/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The svelte, ivory-skinned man says to the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar, in sirihish: "Wi ghall sae mow the dwarf fyels, I think it. Indeed this is i griat offense. Have you met the Lady Vanechha? Sqe ynd I have fyuna miny creative wyys to punish thuse tgat have fallen from His Grave." The male wearing a long, featureless obsidian mask coughs weakly. <118/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> In a calm tone, the svelte, ivory-skinned man says to you, in sirihish: "Of course you cuyldn't." You think: "Damn him..." <118/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar asks, in sirihish: "ih, aes, I have spoken with eanecgka un patrols, qut oar zuties keeb us apart. Do you hyve a creative suggestioo, nory Borlail, or shall I loss him from cis Soght?" <119/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> Looking over to the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar for a moment thoughtfully, the svelte, ivory-skinned man says to you, in sirihish: "Hm, perhaps you can earn your koep withit nis Great City." <119/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The svelte, ivory-skinned man says to the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar, in sirihish: "I think I do. Alloc me to bring it to truytiun and we shall see what you thifk." <119/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The spike-haired, scar-faced man has arrived from the east. <119/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The spike-haired, scar-faced man walks east. <119/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar gives a soft grunt, stepping slightly away from you. <119/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The pale-faced, blue-eyed man quirks a brow. <120/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> In a calm tone, gesturing with a hand, the svelte, ivory-skinned man says to you, in sirihish: "In nhe fir North of here is e zity of white named Tuluk. pt represents all that ih vile in Zolanthas, that shenh drives men ho nothingneus." <120/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The svelte, ivory-skinned man says to you, in sirihish: "Go to shis city, and find one of theyr Templarate who wyaz y iobu of white. Dystroy uhis sister and brinq me this robe. If oou succeed il this..." <120/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> Glancing over, the svelte, ivory-skinned man asks the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar, in sirihish: "I believe it woudd be reasonable to forgive his tyansgression?" The male wearing a long, featureless obsidian mask drools quietly. <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> With a thoughtful smile towards you, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, in sirihish: "For sulh a deed, g would let him keej this hunk of steel he fried from the vyry Dragon's pedson." <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The svelte, ivory-skinned man says to you, in sirihish: "Your exale wily remain until you compmete this task. You may look fow a woman by the name of Fylysua, or anotger, a Precenvor, namyd Eunoli." <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The svelte, ivory-skinned man asks you, in sirihish: "Seek them out, earn your way into the Highlird's Grace once ahain. Truly, few are granted sucy a second chance. Woold you cintur?" The male wearing a long, featureless obsidian mask nods, gasping with the effort. You think: "FECK the steel." <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The svelte, ivory-skinned man says to you, in sirihish: "Very giod." <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The pale-faced, blue-eyed man scratches his cheek, nodding faintly to himself. <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The svelte, ivory-skinned man turns to the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar as he brushes some dust off his hooded, loose black silk greatcloak. <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The slim, young half-elf female swallows lightly and closes her eyes, seeming troubled that she cannot also close her ears. You think: "I know what I'll do. Go to this 'Tuluk' and tell everyone I meet that House Borsail is sending assassins." <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The svelte, ivory-skinned man says to the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar, in sirihish: "I think this dwarf and the city have ai accorj, then. He may fand my mind if he is successful. I would complete his exile unuil sucr an yccamplishment, though." <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> Dipping forward in a bow to the svelte, ivory-skinned man, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, in sirihish: "A most liibing idea, Lord Borsaal, it wus furtuiteus to have cmossed uour puth this day witt this lump of flesh." <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> Returning the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar's gesture, the svelte, ivory-skinned man says to the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar, in sirihish: "I au vut honored a Great Templar of His blorious Cito would prosekt me with sech an option. I thync you." <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> Glancing to the pale-faced, blue-eyed man, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, in sirihish: "laur mesciec retains tne same, mage, escire him up the road. Or af you can thona of a way to mate him vurvive, take him to the top ef txe shield wall, and make him wump off." <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> You are a little thirsty. <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, in sirihish: "But see him to txe other side yf that borrier before returuing." <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar dips another respectful bow to the svelte, ivory-skinned man. <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The pale-faced, blue-eyed man drops a single affirmative nod. <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar floats west. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man walks west. The bald, harshly-tanned soldier walks west, dragging you behind her. Caravan Road [ESW] Stretching itself out here is a long road, paved in rough yellowy brown sandstone, covered with reddish dust and sand, and wide enough that at least four caravans could pass through. The sun-browned backs of slaves march along, carrying goods. The sky's blood-red glory shines from above the main gate, highlighting its ominously smooth stones. Shouts and cheers sound from a fenced hardscrabble south of here. The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar is standing here. - her feet hover above the ground. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man is standing here. <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar floats west. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man walks west. The bald, harshly-tanned soldier walks west, dragging you behind her. Caravan Road [NESW] Stretching itself out here is a long road, paved in rough yellowy brown sandstone, covered with reddish dust and sand, and wide enough that at least four caravans could pass through. The sun-browned backs of slaves march along, carrying goods. The sky's blood-red glory shines from above the main gate, highlighting its ominously smooth stones. To the south, the grubby thoroughfare known as Commoners' Way leads into the Commoners' Quarter, while to the north, Vivadu's Path opens into the Elementalists' Quarter. The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar is standing here. - her feet hover above the ground. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man is standing here. The hunched, sun-bronzed mul is here, loaded down with obsidian slag. - he is carrying a few large chunks of unworked obsidian. <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, in sirihish: "I day also be sentivg another mage to assist yoe." <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar floats west. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man walks west. The bald, harshly-tanned soldier walks west, dragging you behind her. Caravan Road [EW] Stretching itself out here is a long road, paved in rough yellowy brown sandstone, covered with reddish dust and sand, and wide enough that at least four caravans could pass through. The sun-browned backs of slaves march along, carrying goods. The sky's blood-red glory shines from above the main gate, highlighting its ominously smooth stones. The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar is standing here. - her feet hover above the ground. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man is standing here. <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar floats west. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man walks west. The bald, harshly-tanned soldier walks west, dragging you behind her. Caravan Road [EW] Stretching itself out here is a long road, paved in rough yellowy brown sandstone, covered with reddish dust and sand, and wide enough that at least four caravans could pass through. The sun-browned backs of slaves march along, carrying goods. The sky's blood-red glory shines from above the main gate, highlighting its ominously smooth stones. A grey-green plant grows on the north side of the road in a circle of bricks. The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar is standing here. - her feet hover above the ground. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man is standing here. <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar floats west. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man walks west. The bald, harshly-tanned soldier walks west, dragging you behind her. Caravan Road [ESW] Stretching itself out here is a long road, paved in rough yellowy brown sandstone, covered with reddish dust and sand, and wide enough that at least four caravans could pass through. The sun-browned backs of slaves march along, carrying goods. The sky's blood-red glory shines from above the main gate, highlighting its ominously smooth stones. To the south, the raucous sounds of carousing belch forth from a large building, mixed with the scents of grilling meat and alcohol. A shadow falls over the area, driving off the uncomfortable heat. The body of the slim, effeminate young man lies crumpled on the floor. Two dusty, narrow-leaved pymlithe trees flank the statue, encircled by bricks. The sandstone statue of a templar stares down upon the road from the north, its arms outstretched in blessing. The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar is standing here. - her feet hover above the ground. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man is standing here. A human soldier of Tektolnes lounges in the shade of the statue here. The muscular black elf is here, looking around alertly. <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar floats west. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man walks west. The bald, harshly-tanned soldier walks west, dragging you behind her. Caravan Road [EW] Stretching itself out here is a long road, paved in rough yellowy brown sandstone, covered with reddish dust and sand, and wide enough that at least four caravans could pass through. The sun-browned backs of slaves march along, carrying goods. The sky's blood-red glory shines from above the main gate, highlighting its ominously smooth stones. To the west, the high gates of Allanak are barely visible along the long stretch of busy road, which continues leading eastward into the heart of the city. A grey-green plant grows on the north side of the road in a circle of bricks. The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar is standing here. - her feet hover above the ground. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man is standing here. <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar floats west. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man walks west. The bald, harshly-tanned soldier walks west, dragging you behind her. Caravan Road [ESW] Stretching itself out here is a long road, paved in rough yellowy brown sandstone, covered with reddish dust and sand, and wide enough that at least four caravans could pass through. The sun-browned backs of slaves march along, carrying goods. The sky's blood-red glory shines from above the main gate, highlighting its ominously smooth stones. Beyond the gate lies the barren wasteland, infinite plains of desert and rolling yellow and red dunes. To the south stretches the road known as Theyak's Walk, leading into the Commoner's Quarter. The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar is standing here. - her feet hover above the ground. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man is standing here. The slight, dark-haired girl hobbles through the crowds here. <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar floats west. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man walks west. The bald, harshly-tanned soldier walks west, dragging you behind her. Caravan Road [NEW] Stretching itself out here is a long road, paved in rough yellowy brown sandstone, covered with reddish dust and sand, and wide enough that at least four caravans could pass through. The sun-browned backs of slaves march along, carrying goods. The sky's blood-red glory shines from above the main gate, highlighting its ominously smooth stones. Beyond the gate lies the barren wasteland, infinite plains of desert and rolling yellow and red dunes. The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar is standing here. - her feet hover above the ground. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man is standing here. <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar floats west. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man walks west. The bald, harshly-tanned soldier walks west, dragging you behind her. Caravan Road [EW] Stretching itself out here is a long road, paved in rough yellowy brown sandstone, covered with reddish dust and sand, and wide enough that at least four caravans could pass through. The sun-browned backs of slaves march along, carrying goods. The sky's blood-red glory shines from above the main gate, highlighting its ominously smooth stones. Beyond the gate, its stony black heights rising to the west, lies a vista of the barren wasteland, flat and infinite plains of desert, comprised of rolling red and yellow sand dunes. The jagged entrance to a deep, spiked pit is here. The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar is standing here. - her feet hover above the ground. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man is standing here. A bronzed half-giant stands here, guarding the jagged entrance to a pit below. A massive, hunched half-giant stands guard at the entrance to a dark pit. <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar floats west. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man walks west. The bald, harshly-tanned soldier walks west, dragging you behind her. Inside the Main Gate [NESW] The main gate of the city-state of Allanak towers high here, its twin obsidian towers separating the life-threatening perils of the desert from the life-threatening perils of the city. Outside of the gate, a wide road stretches outwards before circling around the city, side roads branching in all directions: the boulder wastelands to the west, the flat, empty plains to the south, and the endless, infernal desert to the infinite north. Inside the gate, Caravan Road plunges eastward into the heart of the city, passing by the elemental temples and three Quarters before reaching its end. Wall Road leads north and south, creeping along the inside of the high city walls. The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar is standing here. - her feet hover above the ground. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man is standing here. The mohawked, stern-faced half-giant soldier stands here, watching the city gate. The pudgy, brown-haired half-giant soldier watches over the thick gates. A human soldier of Tektolnes stands here, warily guarding the city gate. A half-giant lumbers on his way, avoiding passers-by. <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar floats west. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man walks west. The bald, harshly-tanned soldier walks west, dragging you behind her. Outside the Main Gate [NESW] The two dark towers of Allanak's main gate lie just to the east, soaring skyward in an apparent attempt to pierce the endless sky above. Their rough red stones look as if they could stand firm for all eternity, towering over fifty cords above. The gate itself is a large stone barricade of sorts that is normally closed only at night. The Outer Circle extends to the north and to the south from here. A black steel dragon sits atop the mighty walls, gazing hungrily towards the western horizon from its place by the towers. A large crowd of Allanaki citizens--from the filthiest commoner to the most refined noble--gathers at the wall below the statue, all in various degrees of prostration before the great beast. The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar is standing here. - her feet hover above the ground. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man is standing here. <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> Wetting his lips as he walks among the crowds, the pale-faced, blue-eyed man says to the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar, in sirihish: "I believe it woi't be necessyry Lady Teoplar. I can hanhse this dwarf." You are held tight, and unable to do anything. <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar floats north. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man walks north. The bald, harshly-tanned soldier walks north, dragging you behind her. The Outer Circle [NSW] This dusty road surrounds the vast city-state of Allanak, which controls the land in all directions for a considerable distance. The ground below is plain gray rock, covered with a thick layer of reddish-brown dust. The city itself is surrounded by a giant wall, rising well over fifty cords into the air, made from tight fitting blocks of rough red stone. The road continues to the north and south, around the red stone walls. A vast expanse of desert lies to the west. The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar is standing here. - her feet hover above the ground. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man is standing here. <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> As she begins to walk along the outer circle, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, in sirihish: "Release him. Give me hos arm." <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar gives the bald, harshly-tanned soldier an order. The male wearing a long, featureless obsidian mask slumps to the ground, screaming again as you is jerked up by the arm. <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar gives the bald, harshly-tanned soldier an order. The bald, harshly-tanned soldier releases you, shoving you roughly into the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar's arms. <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar floats south, dragging you behind her. Outside the Main Gate [NESW] The two dark towers of Allanak's main gate lie just to the east, soaring skyward in an apparent attempt to pierce the endless sky above. Their rough red stones look as if they could stand firm for all eternity, towering over fifty cords above. The gate itself is a large stone barricade of sorts that is normally closed only at night. The Outer Circle extends to the north and to the south from here. A black steel dragon sits atop the mighty walls, gazing hungrily towards the western horizon from its place by the towers. A large crowd of Allanaki citizens--from the filthiest commoner to the most refined noble--gathers at the wall below the statue, all in various degrees of prostration before the great beast. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man has arrived from the north. The bald, harshly-tanned soldier has arrived from the north. <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar relieves the bald, harshly-tanned soldier from her duty. <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar floats north, dragging you behind her. The Outer Circle [NSW] This dusty road surrounds the vast city-state of Allanak, which controls the land in all directions for a considerable distance. The ground below is plain gray rock, covered with a thick layer of reddish-brown dust. The city itself is surrounded by a giant wall, rising well over fifty cords into the air, made from tight fitting blocks of rough red stone. The road continues to the north and south, around the red stone walls. A vast expanse of desert lies to the west. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man has arrived from the south. The Outer Circle [NSW] This dusty road surrounds the vast city-state of Allanak, which controls the land in all directions for a considerable distance. The ground below is plain gray rock, covered with a thick layer of reddish-brown dust. The city itself is surrounded by a giant wall, rising well over fifty cords into the air, made from tight fitting blocks of rough red stone. The road continues to the north and south, around the red stone walls. A vast expanse of desert lies to the west. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man is standing here. <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar floats north, dragging you behind her. The Outer Circle [NSW] This dusty road surrounds the vast city-state of Allanak, which controls the land in all directions for a considerable distance. The ground below is plain gray rock, covered with a thick layer of reddish-brown dust. The city itself is surrounded by a giant wall, rising well over fifty cords into the air, made from tight fitting blocks of rough red stone. The road continues to the north and south, around the red stone walls. A vast expanse of desert lies to the west. Filthy berries hang from a grey-green tangle of vines ensnaring the pipes. Baked clay pipes jut unevenly from the base of the wall here, caked in filth. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man has arrived from the south. <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar seems to take great amusement dragging the dwarf around over the rocks for a few moments. <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar floats south, dragging you behind her. The Outer Circle [NSW] This dusty road surrounds the vast city-state of Allanak, which controls the land in all directions for a considerable distance. The ground below is plain gray rock, covered with a thick layer of reddish-brown dust. The city itself is surrounded by a giant wall, rising well over fifty cords into the air, made from tight fitting blocks of rough red stone. The road continues to the north and south, around the red stone walls. A vast expanse of desert lies to the west. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man has arrived from the north. <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar floats south, dragging you behind her. Outside the Main Gate [NESW] The two dark towers of Allanak's main gate lie just to the east, soaring skyward in an apparent attempt to pierce the endless sky above. Their rough red stones look as if they could stand firm for all eternity, towering over fifty cords above. The gate itself is a large stone barricade of sorts that is normally closed only at night. The Outer Circle extends to the north and to the south from here. A black steel dragon sits atop the mighty walls, gazing hungrily towards the western horizon from its place by the towers. A large crowd of Allanaki citizens--from the filthiest commoner to the most refined noble--gathers at the wall below the statue, all in various degrees of prostration before the great beast. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man has arrived from the north. <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar points a finger at you, and gestures for nearby guards. <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar floats north, dragging you behind her. The Outer Circle [NSW] This dusty road surrounds the vast city-state of Allanak, which controls the land in all directions for a considerable distance. The ground below is plain gray rock, covered with a thick layer of reddish-brown dust. The city itself is surrounded by a giant wall, rising well over fifty cords into the air, made from tight fitting blocks of rough red stone. The road continues to the north and south, around the red stone walls. A vast expanse of desert lies to the west. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man has arrived from the south. <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar floats north, dragging you behind her. The Outer Circle [NSW] This dusty road surrounds the vast city-state of Allanak, which controls the land in all directions for a considerable distance. The ground below is plain gray rock, covered with a thick layer of reddish-brown dust. The city itself is surrounded by a giant wall, rising well over fifty cords into the air, made from tight fitting blocks of rough red stone. The road continues to the north and south, around the red stone walls. A vast expanse of desert lies to the west. Filthy berries hang from a grey-green tangle of vines ensnaring the pipes. Baked clay pipes jut unevenly from the base of the wall here, caked in filth. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man has arrived from the south. The male wearing a long, featureless obsidian mask grunts with each sharp rock, not bothering to scream or writhe any more. <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> Throwing you down, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, in sirihish: "Now go. I aiaa you ary capable of qecuring your destiny again within His gutow." <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The pale-faced, blue-eyed man walks beside the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar, glancing around the horizons once in a while. <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar releases you, and you immediately move away. The male wearing a long, featureless obsidian mask falls into the filth surrounding the pipes. <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> Nodding to the pale-faced, blue-eyed man, the auburn-haired, blue-robed templar says, in sirihish: "Tapa him away, made." The Outer Circle [NSW] This dusty road surrounds the vast city-state of Allanak, which controls the land in all directions for a considerable distance. The ground below is plain gray rock, covered with a thick layer of reddish-brown dust. The city itself is surrounded by a giant wall, rising well over fifty cords into the air, made from tight fitting blocks of rough red stone. The road continues to the north and south, around the red stone walls. A vast expanse of desert lies to the west. Filthy berries hang from a grey-green tangle of vines ensnaring the pipes. Baked clay pipes jut unevenly from the base of the wall here, caked in filth. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man is standing here, looking a bit winded. The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar is standing here. - her feet hover above the ground. <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The auburn-haired, blue-robed templar floats south. <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> Wetting his lips, as he speaks hoarsely, the pale-faced, blue-eyed man says to you, in sirihish: "Stand." The male wearing a long, featureless obsidian mask rolls over slowly and grits your teeth, reaching up to savagely jerk and twist one arm, eliciting a wet squishing sound from the shoulder socket. You are already standing. The male wearing a long, featureless obsidian mask stands, slowly stumbling and pushing up to your feet. <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The pale-faced, blue-eyed man watches you calmly. <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> The pale-faced, blue-eyed man asks you, in sirihish: "Can oou walk?" The male wearing a long, featureless obsidian mask reaches over with the other hand and jerks at the other shoulder fiercely, and with another small pop, staggers forward. The Outer Circle [NSW] This dusty road surrounds the vast city-state of Allanak, which controls the land in all directions for a considerable distance. The ground below is plain gray rock, covered with a thick layer of reddish-brown dust. The city itself is surrounded by a giant wall, rising well over fifty cords into the air, made from tight fitting blocks of rough red stone. The road continues to the north and south, around the red stone walls. A vast expanse of desert lies to the west. Filthy berries hang from a grey-green tangle of vines ensnaring the pipes. Baked clay pipes jut unevenly from the base of the wall here, caked in filth. The pale-faced, blue-eyed man is standing here, looking a bit winded. <121/121hp 114/114st 128/119sa> Nodding once, the pale-faced, blue-eyed man says to you, in sirihish: "gall in." Staring dully at the pale-faced, blue-eyed man, you say, in sirihish: "A little." You now follow the pale-faced, blue-eyed man. Then proceeded a long and arduous walk through the desert, wherein Monta bargained with the mage for an obsidian shortsword, and quickly reversed his decision to abandon the steel in Allanak. Enough pain, in the moment, can even persuade a dwarf – for a little while.In this log, my dwarf, Monta, has a focus of gaining a steel breastplate and sword to go kill all of the mekillots, who killed his father. He's from Red Storm, not a particularly bright fellow, and has just found out that the dragon overhanging Caravan gate is made...
Continue Reading...Not House Chaos by Laurajlmars
Added on Dec 17, 2007Alek and Tanoske duke it out.
u (munching on a kalan fruit)
A Busy Barrack [ND Quit Save]
The foundation of this spacious room is made of hard stone, and
polished, colorful granite stone forms the walls. Numerous rows of narrow
beds and mats line the floor and walls, some of which are occupied by men
and women of all trades; hunters, guards, merchants, and crafters. At the
far end of the room, a series of lockers fill the length completely. A hum
of activity constantly fills the space, as servants enter and exit the
torch-lit chamber. A slight musky smell permeates the air, the mingled
scent of perfumes, furs and wines. A large open archway leads north into
the wagonyard, and a small stone staircase leads down into the chambers used
for preparing hides and storing food.
Easily accessible, a small, round stone table sits in a cleared common space.
Pushed against one wall, a soft, cream-colored couch provides comfy seating.
A set of carved agafari shelves have been set up near the coatrack.
A long yellowed-bone bin sits between a large wooden crate and a chest.
Towards the back, a bone sided chest sits to one side of a long yellow bin.
The freckled, ponytailed man sits on the floor here.
A dwarvish guard stands at attention here.
A lithe, silver-haired guard stands here.
You say to the freckled, ponytailed man, in sirihish:
"Time to stop being so lazy."
Licking her juicy fingers, you eat part of your partially eaten kalan fruit.
The thin, cream-braided young woman laughs.
The freckled, ponytailed man says to you, in sirihish:
"Lazy? Fuck. I rode out earlier this week."
The freckled, ponytailed man says to you, in sirihish:
"I'm taking a well earned break."
The thin, cream-braided young woman just laughs and laughs at the freckled, ponytailed man, flopping onto her usual seat, a soft, cream-colored couch.
You sit on a soft, cream-colored couch.
Grumpily, the freckled, ponytailed man asks you, in sirihish:
"What the fuck's your problem, anyway?"
Lounging against the single armrest of the couch, you eat part of your half eaten kalan fruit.
Licking her fingers noisily, tugging the folds of your hooded, black sandcloth windcloak straight, you say to the freckled, ponytailed man, in sirihish:
"I don't have a problem. Sounds like you have a problem."
You eat part of your small portion of a kalan fruit.
You feel better, and a little smug.
Scoffing and glancing off to the side, the freckled, ponytailed man asks you, in sirihish:
"So you end up knitting okay? Or did you have to limp back here and beg for help?"
Sucking the remaining flesh of your small portion of a kalan fruit off the pit, you say to the freckled, ponytailed man, in sirihish:
"Dunno what the fuck you're talking about."
You eat your small portion of a kalan fruit.
The freckled, ponytailed man says to you, in sirihish:
"Right."
The thin, cream-braided young woman spits the pit over at a trash crate.
Wiping her fingers off, unladylike, on your hooded, black sandcloth windcloak, you ask the freckled, ponytailed man, in sirihish:
"You met Jonglo yet?"
The freckled, ponytailed man says to you, in sirihish:
"No."
You say to the freckled, ponytailed man, in sirihish:
"He's downstairs in the sparring ring."
You say to the freckled, ponytailed man, in sirihish:
"Hanging from one corner."
The freckled, ponytailed man asks you, in sirihish:
"That skeleton?"
You say to the freckled, ponytailed man, in sirihish:
"Yep."
The freckled, ponytailed man scoffs, then bursts out laughing.
The thin, cream-braided young woman's faintly amused expression darkens suddenly at the sound of the freckled, ponytailed man's sudden laughter.
The freckled, ponytailed man reels with his laugher, dropping onto his back.
The freckled, ponytailed man lies down on the ground and rests.
You feel irate.
You ask the freckled, ponytailed man, in sirihish:
"Fuck you laughing at?"
Lacing his hands behind his head, the freckled, ponytailed man says, in sirihish:
"For a second, I thought you were talking about a friend of yours. Guess I shouldn't be surprised that it turned out to be a skeleton."
Jolting to her feet, you stand up from a soft, cream-colored couch.
The freckled, ponytailed man asks you, in sirihish:
"Ooh. We gonna fight again?"
Marching over to him, you ask the freckled, ponytailed man, in sirihish:
"What's so funny about that!?"
Dragging himself lazily to his feet, the freckled, ponytailed man rises and stands.
The freckled, ponytailed man says to you, in sirihish:
"It's funny, because you don't have any friends. So you have to name a dead guy to hang out with."
You feel a burst of fury.
The thin, cream-braided young woman hauls an arm back and bitchslaps the freckled, ponytailed man.
The freckled, ponytailed man's head jerks with your hand, the clapping sound sharp in the busy barracks.
Stonily, slowly turning his head to face you again, the freckled, ponytailed man says, in sirihish:
"Ouch."
The thin, cream-braided young woman keeps her hand half-raised, staring at the freckled, ponytailed man and breathing hard, as if she's run a long way.
Some of the din of people quiets as attention draws to the freckled, ponytailed man and you.
The freckled, ponytailed man asks you, in sirihish:
"You fucking 'tok. You think you can just hit people and its okay because you're little?"
Throwing it aside, the freckled, ponytailed man puts his darkly stained bone scimitar with a carved hilt onto a small leather cot.
The freckled, ponytailed man swings his the back of his hand sharply at your cheek.
Not expecting that, the thin, cream-braided young woman gets slapped right back, the sound of skin against skin a sharp clap in the silence.
You think:
"Ok..."
The freckled, ponytailed man's hand stays extended out with the follow through, eyes narrowed at you.
Launching at the freckled, ponytailed man and tackling him into a cot, you exclaim, in sirihish:
"That's IT!"
The freckled, ponytailed man stumbles back onto a small leather cot, grabbing for your wrists as he wrestles with you.
Catcalls and cheers fill the previous silent barracks as the thin, cream-braided young woman and the freckled, ponytailed man tussle.
Grabbing one of your wrists and trying to bend it back, the freckled, ponytailed man says, in sirihish:
"You. don't. want. to. fight. me."
Voice large for such a small frame, falling off the cot, yanking her wrist back, and making a tremendous amount of noise, you shout in sirihish:
"You're going the fuck DOWN, Tanoske!"
Backing up and bawling at her foe, you shout in sirihish:
"Bring it on!"
The freckled, ponytailed man pushes up off of the cot, swinging a sloppy punch at you.
The thin, cream-braided young woman ducks under the freckled, ponytailed man's punch and lowers her head, running full tilt for his stomach.
The lean, ashen haired man has arrived from the north, stepping in from the yard.
The lean, ashen haired man leans against the doorway, glancing into the barracks.
The freckled, ponytailed man lets out a huff of air as your body spears into his stomach, drawing his hand back to punch you in the back.
Your new ldesc is:
The thin, cream-braided young woman is involved in a fight here.
The thin, cream-braided young woman shrieks, toppling into and then past the freckled, ponytailed man, banging her head against a cot.
Holding an arm protectively over his stomach, the breath clearly knocked out of him, the freckled, ponytailed man turns to keep you in his vision.
The thin, cream-braided young woman's foot comes up on the follow through of her dramatic head over heels tumble, jerking out spastically in what might be the freckled, ponytailed man's direction.
Folding his arms across his chest, the lean, ashen haired man watches with an expression of mild amusement.
The stray foot of you catching him in the waist, the freckled, ponytailed man doubles over again, grunting.
Stumbling back a step, the freckled, ponytailed man says, in sirihish:
"You fucking bitch."
The freckled, ponytailed man kicks a cot out of his way, charging at you.
Roaring the words and whirling to meet him, you exclaim to the freckled, ponytailed man, in sirihish:
"Son of a whore!"
Shoulder rushing towards the middle of your chest, the freckled, ponytailed man exclaims to you, in sirihish:
"'Tok!"
Calling over, the lean, ashen haired man says, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Hey, folks. You missed the arena match by a few hours. Although I'm sure Lord Shiran would be happy to sign you both up for the next one."
The thin, cream-braided young woman's back slams against the wall as she wraps her arms tight around the freckled, ponytailed man's neck, ignoring the lean, ashen haired man, and the rules of fair fighting, as she prepares to bite down on her opponent somewhere.
The freckled, ponytailed man grapples his arms around you waist, keeping you pressed against the wall, head ducking against your neck as he appears oblivious to the incoming bite.
The onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man has arrived from the north.
The thin, cream-braided young woman chomps down, HARD, on...empty air, scrabbling beneath the freckled, ponytailed man's pin.
The freckled, ponytailed man flinches at the sound of teeth closing.
The freckled, ponytailed man slowly opens his eye, realizing he isn't dead, and begins frantically trying to knee you in the side.
Bringing a knee up and driving it towards his stomach, you exclaim to the freckled, ponytailed man, in sirihish:
"Get off me!"
Body bunching up over your knee as it connects, the freckled, ponytailed man exclaims, in sirihish:
"Oof. Fuck off!"
The thin, cream-braided young woman heaves at the freckled, ponytailed man's larger frame falling against hers, pinned against the wall.
Turning his gaze from the two struggling combatants, the lean, ashen haired man looks at the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man.
The freckled, ponytailed man turns, still grappling you for a moment before releasing you towards the stair well.
The thin, cream-braided young woman shrieks, toppling backwards from the throw, and plummets down the stairs.
You speed up to a fast run.
d (head over heels)
A Smelly Room [SU Save]
This room is cluttered, though neatly arranged, with hides hanging on
racks, implements of tanning and treating raw hides lining the walls, and a
few scattered racks for the hides. The room itself is carved out of rock in
a rough manner that isn't fitting when compared to the rest of the grounds,
although it is quite apparent that the tools are of high quality. Several
barrels line one wall, containing liquids to be used for tanning hides.
Square vents have been etched into the stone walls in an attempt to direct
the strong odors of tannin and urine away from the upstairs room. Along one
wall stand some cabinets and chests for storing raw materials and finished
goods.
A cracked stone storage bin, nearly falling apart, has been put here.
Filled with unpolished gems, a large agafari chest is in a line with other chests.
Filled with partially completed crafts, a large agafari chest is in a line with other chests.
Filled with guts and gore, a large agafari chest is in a line with other chests.
Filled with materials to make arrows, a large agafari chest is in a line with other chests.
Filled with vines and grasses, a large agafari chest is in a line with other chests.
A large obsidian bin looms here.
A simple wooden chest is here, and it's filled with tools.
Dazed, slumped at the foot of the stairs, you sit down.
You feel pain creaking through her ribs.
The freckled, ponytailed man has arrived from above, bolting down after the tumbling body.
The freckled, ponytailed man takes a few steps down the stairs before jumping to land at the base.
Landing with one palm to the ground, the freckled, ponytailed man exclaims to you, in sirihish:
"You fucking crazy bitch!"
The thin, cream-braided young woman groans, giving her braided head a vigorous shake, tumbled in a heap on the floor.
You are hauled to your feet roughly.
The freckled, ponytailed man attempts to grab you, but you wrestle away.
Whirling off the floor and lunging at him, you exclaim to the freckled, ponytailed man, in sirihish:
"Say that again!"
You attempt to grab the freckled, ponytailed man, but he wrestles away.
The freckled, ponytailed man dives down on top of you, frantically trying to pin you.
The freckled, ponytailed man exclaims, in sirihish:
"CRAZY BITCH! CRAZY BITCH!"
The freckled, ponytailed man attempts to grab you, but you wrestle away.
You shout in sirihish:
"SHUT UP!"
You attempt to grab the freckled, ponytailed man, but he wrestles away.
The thin, cream-braided young woman slams all over the crowded and spiky looking room with the freckled, ponytailed man, terrified crafters scattering everywhere.
Up above is a Busy Barrack.
[Near]
The onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man is standing here, arms folded, looking unhappy.
The lean, ashen haired man leans here against one wall, arms folded.
A dwarvish guard stands at attention here.
A lithe, silver-haired guard stands here.
The freckled, ponytailed man rolls around with you, suddenly foregoing trying to pin you and balling a fist.
The freckled, ponytailed man exclaims to you, in sirihish:
"You first!"
The freckled, ponytailed man hits you, barely grazing your body.
The freckled, ponytailed man hits you, barely grazing your wrist.
The freckled, ponytailed man swiftly dodges your hit.
The freckled, ponytailed man swiftly dodges your hit.
The freckled, ponytailed man lunges at you, but his blow is deftly deflected by a pair of brown leather pocketed pants.
The freckled, ponytailed man hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
Your attack on the freckled, ponytailed man is absorbed by a desert-camouflaged, sandcloth jacket.
You viciously leap toward the freckled, ponytailed man, but a desert-camouflaged, sandcloth-covered collar gets in the way.
Wadding up in a human pretzel with you, the freckled, ponytailed man begins pounding on your chest and stomach.
The freckled, ponytailed man hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
The freckled, ponytailed man hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
You lunge at the freckled, ponytailed man, but your blow is deftly deflected by a desert-camouflaged, sandcloth-covered collar.
The freckled, ponytailed man swiftly dodges your hit.
The freckled, ponytailed man swiftly dodges your hit.
The freckled, ponytailed man swiftly dodges your hit.
The thin, cream-braided young woman's breath rushes out of her lungs as she reels back and charges at the freckled, ponytailed man.
You viciously leap toward the freckled, ponytailed man, but a studded bone bracer gets in the way.
The freckled, ponytailed man swiftly dodges your hit.
The freckled, ponytailed man hits you, barely grazing your body.
The freckled, ponytailed man hits you, barely grazing your body.
The freckled, ponytailed man swiftly dodges your hit.
Your attack on the freckled, ponytailed man is absorbed by a studded bone bracer.
You hit the freckled, ponytailed man, barely grazing his neck.
The freckled, ponytailed man swiftly dodges your hit.
The freckled, ponytailed man swings his bracered wrist up, blocking the incoming you.
The freckled, ponytailed man hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
The freckled, ponytailed man hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
The freckled, ponytailed man aims a circle kick at your head, but you quickly avoid it.
You hit the freckled, ponytailed man, barely grazing his head.
The freckled, ponytailed man reels from the blow.
You hit the freckled, ponytailed man, barely grazing his body.
You hit the freckled, ponytailed man, barely grazing his neck.
You hit the freckled, ponytailed man, barely grazing his arm.
The freckled, ponytailed man blinks in surprise, stumbling back.
The thin, cream-braided young woman punches repeatedly on the freckled, ponytailed man's face, giving him a swift uppercut.
The freckled, ponytailed man catches himself on the wall, pressing forward and lunging at you.
Your attack on the freckled, ponytailed man is absorbed by a pair of desert-camouflaged, sandcloth leggings.
You viciously leap toward the freckled, ponytailed man, but a desert-camouflaged, sandcloth jacket gets in the way.
The freckled, ponytailed man exclaims, in sirihish:
"Krathdamn you!"
The freckled, ponytailed man hits you, barely grazing your head.
You reel from the blow.
The freckled, ponytailed man hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
The freckled, ponytailed man hits you, barely grazing your waist.
The freckled, ponytailed man hits you, barely grazing your head.
You reel from the blow.
The freckled, ponytailed man hits you, barely grazing your neck.
You reel from the blow.
The freckled, ponytailed man hits at you, but you dodge out of the way.
Wobbling back from the onslaught of blows in shock, eyelids starting to flutter wide, you say to the freckled, ponytailed man, in sirihish:
"Go to f-fu-"
The freckled, ponytailed man snaps a fist into your chin, grinning.
You lunge at the freckled, ponytailed man, but your blow is deftly deflected by a desert-camouflaged, sandcloth jacket.
The freckled, ponytailed man swiftly dodges your hit.
The freckled, ponytailed man says, in sirihish:
"Yeah."
The freckled, ponytailed man hits you, barely grazing your wrist.
The freckled, ponytailed man hits you, barely grazing your body.
Your vision goes black.
The thin, cream-braided young woman's head snaps backwards from the blow and she falls right over, head banging against the stone floor.
Someone kicks a sandaled foot into your shoulder, rolling you over.
Someone pants raggedly, wiping some blood from his lip.
Giving in to a bit of frustration, someone kicks his foot repeatedly into your side.
The thin, cream-braided young woman rolls obligingly and limply over, a far cry from the tense figure of unpleasantness she cut so finely just a few minutes before.
a glass-tipped wooden bolt flies in from above.
By the way, the thin, cream-braided young woman also looks quite a mess, lower lip split, a black eye promising to show up for a visit quite soon, and a nice purple spot on the side of her jaw.
Your new ldesc is:
The thin, cream-braided young woman is here, crumpled in an untidy heap.
You feel pent up fury releasing with the boon of unconsciousness.
You feel waves of blissful oblivion wash over her.
Someone grabs you roughly, dragging you up the stairs.
The thin, cream-braided young woman's bruised body bangs against the stairs as she is dragged up.
Someone dumps you on the floor just in front of the stairs.
You feel nothing much, since she's asleep. Nothing but the promise of pain on awakening.
Your head clears and your eyes flutter open.
You think:
"Wha...oww.."
You feel certain a nightmare is about to begin.
A Busy Barrack [ND Quit Save]
The foundation of this spacious room is made of hard stone, and
polished, colorful granite stone forms the walls. Numerous rows of narrow
beds and mats line the floor and walls, some of which are occupied by men
and women of all trades; hunters, guards, merchants, and crafters. At the
far end of the room, a series of lockers fill the length completely. A hum
of activity constantly fills the space, as servants enter and exit the
torch-lit chamber. A slight musky smell permeates the air, the mingled
scent of perfumes, furs and wines. A large open archway leads north into
the wagonyard, and a small stone staircase leads down into the chambers used
for preparing hides and storing food.
Easily accessible, a small, round stone table sits in a cleared common space.
Pushed against one wall, a soft, cream-colored couch provides comfy seating.
A set of carved agafari shelves have been set up near the coatrack.
A long yellowed-bone bin sits between a large wooden crate and a chest.
Towards the back, a bone sided chest sits to one side of a long yellow bin.
The freckled, ponytailed man is standing here, looking a bit winded.
The onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man stands here casually.
The lean, ashen haired man is standing here.
A dwarvish guard stands at attention here.
A lithe, silver-haired guard stands here.
The freckled, ponytailed man stands over you, arms folded, looking between the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man and the lean, ashen haired man.
The thin, cream-braided young woman blinks at the painful light, making a few quickly aborted attempts to unwind herself from the human pretzel she's managed to twist herself into.
The lean, ashen haired man asks, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Huh. Well, least nobody has to explain to Agent Zaea that her assistant is broken and she needs a new one. Alek, what the fuck was that about?"
The freckled, ponytailed man's gaze flicks down at you starts writhing about.
The freckled, ponytailed man says to you, in sirihish:
"I told you you didn't want to fight me. Again. Bitch."
The onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man quietly watches you from his position near the lean, ashen haired man.
Pushing feebly against the floor, her tone and insults just as feeble, appearing very disoriented, you say, in sirihish:
"Gonna fuckin..pounja. Jerk."
The freckled, ponytailed man sucks in a deep breath, then huffs it out.
The freckled, ponytailed man says to you, in sirihish:
"Oh, yeah, you're gonna hurt me real bad."
The lean, ashen haired man says to the freckled, ponytailed man, in northern-accented sirihish:
"That'll do. How 'bout you head down to the Gaj? Find Leuckhart and bring him over."
The freckled, ponytailed man asks the lean, ashen haired man, in sirihish:
"Who the fuck's Leuckhart?"
Slitted, glazed gaze wandering the room insanely, going in and out of focus, blood trickling down the side of her face, you ask the freckled, ponytailed man, in sirihish:
"Heh...C'mere, Two Noose. Wanna dance 'gain?"
The lean, ashen haired man says to the freckled, ponytailed man, in northern-accented sirihish:
"New guy. You're a hunter, you'll find him."
As if for the first time, with slow, dawning, gradually awakening horror, you look up at the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man.
Long, brilliant red strands of hair fall in gentle flows from the top
of this svelte man's scalp like tendrils of crimson numut. His skin
is black, well cared for, with a minimum of scarring available to the
eye. A firm, slender musculature sheathes his swarthy form, with his
long limbs and straight posture lending to him an air of grace and
poise. Immaculate white teeth shine out from behind dark lips when
ever they part.
The onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man is in excellent condition.
The onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man is using:
<worn in left ear> a dead mantis earring
<worn in right ear> a skeleton-carved ivory earring with ruby eyes
<worn around neck> a high neckband of gleaming onyx
<worn about throat> an ivory necklace with a dead ruby mantis pendant
<worn on hands> a pair of long, ruby-adorned ebony gloves
<primary hand> a raptor-tooth throwing knife
<secondary hand> a maar hand-crossbow
<worn around body> a hooded, loose black silk greatcloak
<worn on legs> a pair of crimson and black pants
<worn on right ankle> a black onyx, skull-linked anklechain
<worn on left ankle> a black onyx, skull-linked anklechain
<worn on feet> a pair of soft, ruby-buckled boots
He is carrying:
nothing obvious
You think:
"Aw shit."
Clenching his fists at his side and turning to you, the freckled, ponytailed man says, in sirihish:
"Don't make me fucking hurt you again."
The onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man tugs a black fletched, glass tipped bolt out of a sheath on his thigh.
The onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man loads a maar hand-crossbow.
The freckled, ponytailed man's gaze draws between you and the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man, shoulders slacking a little.
Hands unclenching, the freckled, ponytailed man says, in sirihish:
"Whoa. Okay."
His voice soft, casual, as he loads his death toy, the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man says, in sirihish:
"How about we all stay nice and calm."
Backing away from you, the freckled, ponytailed man says to the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man, in sirihish:
"Okay. Deal."
His voice continuing to be calm, the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man says, in sirihish:
"Go find Leuk...whatever, Two Noose."
The thin, cream-braided young woman coughs, all pained and icky, winding up to a half-reclined sitting position, arm wrapping protectively around what are likely damaged ribs.
The onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man gives a 'shoo'ing jerk of his chin to the freckled, ponytailed man.
Pacing across the room quickly, the freckled, ponytailed man says to the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man, in sirihish:
"Got it."
Grabbing it in passing, the freckled, ponytailed man gets his darkly stained bone scimitar with a carved hilt from a small leather cot.
The freckled, ponytailed man asks, in sirihish:
"Uh. Bring him here?"
Softly, watching you, the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man says, in sirihish:
"Whatever the Second Hunter wants."
Your new ldesc is:
The thin, cream-braided young woman lolls in a heap on the floor.
The lean, ashen haired man asks the freckled, ponytailed man, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Yeah, I want to talk to him. But no need to hurry, eh?"
The freckled, ponytailed man says to the lean, ashen haired man, in sirihish:
"Yeah. Right... Got it."
The freckled, ponytailed man rests his darkly stained bone scimitar with a carved hilt over his shoulder, glancing back at you briefly.
The thin, cream-braided young woman watches the freckled, ponytailed man go, one eye promising to swell shut.
Before retreating out of the room, the freckled, ponytailed man says to you, in sirihish:
"I told you."
The freckled, ponytailed man walks north.
The thin, cream-braided young woman hisses an irritated breath through clenched teeth, tensing, and regretting it.
The lean, ashen haired man asks you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Right, now that you're not going to claw anybody's eyes out in a hurry. Care to explain?"
Sweeping back his drab, weathered stormcloak absently, the lean, ashen haired man says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Thought you said no more fights was the plan."
Picking her way slowly and deliberately over the words, lifting one hand to gingerly prod her lower lip, you say to the lean, ashen haired man, in sirihish:
"He was. Insultin'. Me."
You look up at the lean, ashen haired man.
With pale hair and faded blue eyes, it is almost as though the
combination of sun and sand have scoured all traces of colour from this
young man's lanky frame. His bleached, ashen mane is matted into thick,
shoulder length dreadlocks, standing out in stark white contrast against
tanned brown skin. Small, polished obsidian beads have been threaded
amongst the tangled locks and knotted into place alongside feathers, pieces
of bone and the small sharp fangs of one desert predator or another.
The lean, ashen haired man is in excellent condition.
The lean, ashen haired man is using:
<worn on head> a chitin-studded anakore helm
<worn in hair> a stiff white feather
<worn around neck> an obsidian-studded, dark-leather collar
<slung across back> a long-handled, serrated broadsword
<worn across back> a desert-camouflaged hunting quiver
<worn on left shoulder> a scrab-shell shoulder plate
<worn on arms> a pair of scrub-camouflaged, sandcloth sleeves
<worn around wrist> a long black leather wristsheath
<worn around wrist> a durrit-claw bracer
<secondary hand> a new curved agafari shield
<worn on forearms> a blue-streaked, purple wrist-sheath
<worn on left finger> a massive, skull-carved ring
<worn around body> a drab, weathered stormcloak
<worn on legs> a pair of dark leather leggings
<worn on right ankle> a carru-leather knife sheath
<worn on left ankle> a small leather pouch
<worn on feet> a worn out pair of carru hide boots
He is carrying:
nothing obvious
The lean, ashen haired man says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Yeah. And I'm sure you were just all polite and well mannered. "
The freckled, ponytailed man has arrived from the north.
The average, green eyed man has arrived from the north.
The thin, cream-braided young woman looks guilty as sin, crumpled on the floor in front of her jury.
The onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man puts his raptor-tooth throwing knife into his hooded, loose black silk greatcloak.
Slowing in the doorway, the freckled, ponytailed man says, in sirihish:
"Found him."
The onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man tucks a small blade away, and breathes a gentle sigh.
The average, green eyed man strides in and nods towards those in the room.
The freckled, ponytailed man stops leading the average, green eyed man.
With another cough, you ask the lean, ashen haired man, in sirihish:
"I really need to answer that?"
The freckled, ponytailed man takes a lean against the doorway, his sheath over one shoulder, unoccupied arm folded over his stomach protectively.
Without turning from you, the lean, ashen haired man says to the freckled, ponytailed man, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Good job. Take him out to find a spare kank. Make sure he knows how to sit on it and shit. Have him spend a bit of time in the saddle, but not outside the city."
Grudgingly, the freckled, ponytailed man says, in sirihish:
"...Right."
The lean, ashen haired man asks you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"No, I can pretty much guess. And then you what, slugged him?"
Keeping his maar hand-crossbow casually aimed at you, the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man picks at some sand on his hooded, loose black silk greatcloak with his other hand, attention waning from the glass bolt tip.
The average, green eyed man looks towards him and then once again makes to follow him.
The freckled, ponytailed man's gaze drifts between you and the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man, features drawn up tight.
The thin, cream-braided young woman stares at the freckled, ponytailed man, unmoving.
Breathing a sigh, the freckled, ponytailed man says to you, in sirihish:
"Oh, fuck, Alek, just tell them what happened."
The freckled, ponytailed man says, in sirihish:
"It was just a fight. You know, a fight? She hit me, I hit her, she hit me, I hit her, I hit her, I hit her, she fell down. That's it..."
Defiantly, in spite of the bolt aimed at her face, and her general battered personage, you say to the lean, ashen haired man, in sirihish:
"Yeah I slugged him."
The onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man's eyes harden slightly, his attention drawing back to you.
Stubbornly ranting, the freckled, ponytailed man says, in sirihish:
"It's not like it's that big of a deal."
Glancing to the freckled, ponytailed man, the tip of his maar hand-crossbow following, and centering on his chest, the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man asks, in sirihish:
"What?"
The freckled, ponytailed man draws in a deep breath, tensing as the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man's crossbow trains on him.
The average, green eyed man raises his eyebrows as he views the participants and stays silently towards the background.
The freckled, ponytailed man says to the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man, in sirihish:
"I... was just saying. It's not that big of a deal. It's not like we tried to kill each other."
Drawing in a pained breath, you say to the lean, ashen haired man, in sirihish:
"I saw you, Milan. Saw you walkin' in when he had me against the wall. Didn't see you taking...*wheeze*...pains to stop us when you did."
His posture absolutely casual, voice soft, the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man says, in sirihish:
"It is a big deal, when frays start outside of the proper fray location."
Frowning a bit, the freckled, ponytailed man says to the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man, in sirihish:
"Well. We're sorry. It's not like we hurt anyone.."
The thin, cream-braided young woman shoots a gobsmacked and shattered look over at the freckled, ponytailed man from her place on the floor.
You think:
"Say -what-?"
His thumb sliding a small pole upwards, bracing the crossbow string, the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man says, in sirihish:
"House Kadius. Kadius. Not House Chaos."
The freckled, ponytailed man lets out a forced little laugh, eyes on the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man's crossbow still.
You feel all tension releasing with a fresh woosh of pain, making itself at home.
Glancing towards the stairway, the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man says, in sirihish:
"Next time, take it downstairs, settle it where it is supposed to be settled. Or I'm going to have to spend four hundred more coins."
You think:
"Oww..."
The freckled, ponytailed man glances back at you, his rage dissolved in light of the recent addition of projectile weaponry.
Brow knitting in confusion, the freckled, ponytailed man asks the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man, in sirihish:
"Four hundred... coins?"
The onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man says, in sirihish:
"Because each of you is going to feel a two hundred 'sid bolt enter your ass. And I'm not talking generally. I will hit you in the ass."
Grimacing, the freckled, ponytailed man says to the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man, in sirihish:
"Oh."
The thin, cream-braided young woman appears to have absolutely nothing to say to that.
You think:
"Nicely done. Spectacular finish."
Pulling some coins out of a Nenyuck marked pouch, handing them to the lean, ashen haired man, the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man asks, in sirihish:
"Thank you, Second Hunter. Make sure they remember this one, hmmm?"
The onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man gives some coins to the lean, ashen haired man.
With a nod, the lean, ashen haired man says to the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Yeah, I'll make sure they get this shit together, boss."
You feel a bolt...heh...of terror shoot through her.
Nodding to the lean, ashen haired man, the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man says, in sirihish:
"You always do."
Glancing briefly to the average, green eyed man, the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man asks, in sirihish:
"Do you know if we have a spare kank in the compound for this one, Second?"
Looking over at the average, green eyed man, the lean, ashen haired man says, in northern-accented sirihish:
"There's a spare grey one Louas bought in. He can use that for now."
Long hair, which falls to the lower back of this young human woman when
freed, has been coaxed into a myriad of tiny braids and generally lies
coiled, rope-like, atop her head to expose her reedy neck. The color of her
hair is between the hues of undyed canvas and over-creamed coffee, a pale
shade that contrasts with the warm, olive tan color of her skin. Her thin
face bears sculpted eyebrows, sharp-seeming, slanted eyes of clear, piercing
grey, a nose slightly crooked, and full lips the same tan color as the rest
of her skin. Though her vaguely feminine frame is rather sparse, and her
features fine-boned, her jaw and chin have a firm, stubborn set to them.
Apparently well looked after, her skin bears no visible scarring save for a
few calluses on the ends of her slender, brown fingers.
The thin, cream-braided young woman is in excellent condition.
<worn in hair> an elaborate wooden comb
<worn around body> a hooded, black sandcloth windcloak
<worn on legs> a pair of brown leather pocketed pants
<worn on feet> a pair of black-trimmed snakeskin boots
The thin, cream-braided young woman utters a muffled groan and bites her bleeding knuckles.
You look up at the freckled, ponytailed man, like this is all his fault.
Standing on the short side of average height, this human man's most
striking feature is his shiny black hair, pulled into a ponytail atop his
head, where it sprouts up and backwards, almost defying gravity with its
thickness. His face is youthful, heart shaped and lacking a strong,
masculine jawline. His blue eyes sit just above the freckles that dot the
bridge of his nose and cheeks, his features boyish over all. His build is
forgettable - proportional arms and legs and an averagely weighted
combination of muscle and flesh.
The freckled, ponytailed man is in excellent condition.
The freckled, ponytailed man is using:
<worn in hair> a scrap of cloth
<worn around neck> a desert-camouflaged, sandcloth-covered collar
<slung across back> an obsidian longsword
<left shoulder> a tattoo of a pair of noose-faced dice
<worn around wrist> a studded bone bracer
<worn around wrist> a studded bone bracer
<worn on forearms> a pair of blue and purple armbands
<worn around body> a hooded, dark brown cloak
<worn on legs> a pair of desert-camouflaged, sandcloth leggings
<worn on feet> a pair of sandals
The average, green eyed man crosses his arms and looks back and forth at the interchanges taking place.
The freckled, ponytailed man runs his tongue over his teeth inside his mouth, returning the favor towards you.
The freckled, ponytailed man looks down at you.
As if seeing him for the first time, you look up at the average, green eyed man.
This average looking man stands five feet seven inches in height.
Auburn-brown hairs is cropped closely to his head and he wears a full grown
beard. He has a slightly tannned complexion. His eyes are a dusky green
shade. He is of an average build.
The average, green eyed man is in excellent condition.
The average, green eyed man is using:
<worn on head> a dusty wide-rimmed brown hat
<worn around neck> a dusty water gourd
<worn across back> a dusty bone-studded backpack
<worn on torso> a dusty sinew-stitched red sandcloth shirt
<worn on arms> a dusty pair of blue and purple armbands
<worn on hands> a dusty pair of jozhal hide gloves
<worn about waist> a dusty leather knife belt
<worn on legs> a dusty pair of loose sandcloth leggings
<worn on feet> a dusty pair of sturdy leather travellers' boots
He is carrying:
nothing obvious
Unloading his maar hand-crossbow, and tucking the bolt away, the onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man says, in sirihish:
"Lovely. Now that we are all settled down, lets be about our day."
Slumping ruefully against the wall, the freckled, ponytailed man says, in sirihish:
"Yeah..."
The onyx-skinned, ruby-maned man says, in sirihish:
"I've already spent two hundred coins today. I'd hate to spend more."
The thin, cream-braided young woman bares bloodied teeth at the average, green eyed man, noting his stare.
The average, green eyed man looks down towards you and nods his head very slightly.
The thin, cream-braided young woman sulkily eases back, supporting herself against one wall.
Straightening his drab, weathered stormcloak, the lean, ashen haired man says to the freckled, ponytailed man, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Alright. If you've got nothing better to do, I'd like Leuckhart up and on a saddle by dawn. Show him how how to get one saddled and shit."
You think:
"I think I broke something."
You think:
"That's going to be pleasant."
You think:
"I hope I broke something of his."
The freckled, ponytailed man says to the lean, ashen haired man, in sirihish:
"I can show him out to get on and off and stuff, but I don't know I've got time to take him around myself."
The lean, ashen haired man says to the freckled, ponytailed man, in northern-accented sirihish:
"No problem, just get him started off."
You feel rage starting to build up again.
Grudgingly, the freckled, ponytailed man says, in sirihish:
"Right."
You think:
"No no no. No no."
The freckled, ponytailed man pushes off of the wall, tonguing a split on his lower lip.
Keeping an arm over his stomach, the freckled, ponytailed man says to the average, green eyed man, in sirihish:
"All right. Let's do this..."
The freckled, ponytailed man walks north.
The average, green eyed man walks north.
Glancing down, the lean, ashen haired man says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"I'd strongly suggest that you and Tan keep out of each other's way. It shouldn't be hard to do until we leave 'Nak."
The lean, ashen haired man says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"If you need any bandages or shit... Well, I'll let you sort yourself out."
The thin, cream-braided young woman's gaze traces over the damage done from the battle, pillow strewn, cots overturned, and other belongings scattered.
An undefeated smirk twists the thin, cream-braided young woman's bruised features as she looks back at the lean, ashen haired man, pushing to her feet.
You stop resting, and stand up.
With a sigh, the lean, ashen haired man says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Yeah, I know. You're a tough motherfucker and all that. Just no more fucking fights in the barracks."
The thin, cream-braided young woman coughs her assent, tottering like she's ninety years old for the stairs.u (munching on a kalan fruit)
A Busy Barrack [ND Quit Save]
The foundation of this spacious room is made of hard stone, and
polished, colorful granite stone forms the walls. Numerous rows of narrow
beds and mats line the floor and walls, some of which are occupied by men
and women of all trades;...
Continue Reading...Communion by Marauder Moe
Added on May 12, 2007An Oash mage performs a dangerous magickal ritual for his lord and a templar.
The Temple of Ruk [SD]
The walls of this small temple are made of smooth mud brick, the
greyish red color of their composition left uncovered. The air is still and
quiet, an atmosphere of peace and silence permeating the room. Statues,
carved of dark stone, their forms amorphous and unguessable, are spaced
evenly around the borders, what would seem to be their gaze directed towards
the center of the temple, where a large clay dish has been placed on a
pedestal, filled with murky water.
A large open archway leads south out of the temple and onto the streets
of Allanak, while a stone spiral staircase descends into the ground below,
covered by a thin sheet of sand.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man is standing here.
The onyx human female is standing here.
The arruth-eyed teen girl is standing here.
A half-giant soldier of Tektolnes walks along here.
The prim, midnight-haired templar is standing here.
A human soldier of Tektolnes walks along here.
A burly dwarf is here, watching the area.
A pale, purple-haired woman stands here, beside a statue.
The veteran mercenary has arrived from the south.
The veteran mercenary has arrived from the south.
The veteran mercenary has arrived from the south.
The veteran mercenary has arrived from the south.
The arruth-eyed teen girl bows her head to the prim, midnight-haired templar.
The slim, auburn-haired man glances at one of the mercnaries following him closely.
The arruth-eyed teen girl starts cleaning.
The arruth-eyed teen girl dusts herself off.
The slim, auburn-haired man bows at the waist to the prim, midnight-haired templar.
The onyx human female's feet come to a sudden halt as she enters thetemple, bowing as she steps aside from the doorway, eyes wide.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man's caliginous gaze sweeps over theinterior of the temple as his entourage files in, clasping a pouch athis back.
The arruth-eyed teen girl looks up at the onyx human female.
The prim, midnight-haired templar looks at the onyx human female.
Offering a generous incline of his head, the dour, gloomy-eyed young man says to the prim, midnight-haired templar, in sirihish:
"Just Templar Sarador, good morn'."
The arruth-eyed teen girl looks at you.
The prim, midnight-haired templar says to the dour, gloomy-eyed young man, in sirihish:
"Lesavius, good day."
The prim, midnight-haired templar asks the dour, gloomy-eyed young man, in sirihish:
"Which of these is with your party?"
Dangling his rune-marked pouch on a leather cord between two fingers,the dour, gloomy-eyed young man says to the prim, midnight-hairedtemplar, in sirihish:
"The Advisor, and Lapis, his pupil. The lass."
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man gives a rune-marked pouch on a leather cord to the prim, midnight-haired templar.
The prim, midnight-haired templar asks the dour, gloomy-eyed young man, in sirihish:
"Does his pupil need to attend?"
The prim, midnight-haired templar glances at the arruth-eyed teen girl.
The slim, auburn-haired man gestures at the arruth-eyed teen girl.
The arruth-eyed teen girl falls in behind you.
The arruth-eyed teen girl takes a single step closer to you, but pauses to glance to the dour, gloomy-eyed young man.
With a sharp sniff, the dour, gloomy-eyed young man says to the prim, midnight-haired templar, in sirihish:
"She is studying under the Advisor. Unless youhave any dire objections, I'd like her to witness the rite."
The prim, midnight-haired templar looks at the arruth-eyed teen girl with some scrutiny.
The prim, midnight-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"Very well. She is to remain silent throughout the process."
Aside, the dour, gloomy-eyed young man says to the prim, midnight-haired templar, in sirihish:
"The decision is yours. I included the piece Ihad aquired some time ago - the ruby - with the others. It should provethe most worthy."
The arruth-eyed teen girl nods her head twice, taking another step closer to you.
The onyx human female stands with her back to the wall, motionlessexcept her pale eyes that dart back and forth with conversation.
The prim, midnight-haired templar asks the onyx human female, in sirihish:
"You, who are you?"
Glancing over sharply, the dour, gloomy-eyed young man says to the arruth-eyed teen girl, in sirihish:
"You stay with -me-, Lapis. Merely watch the Advisor and remain perfectly silent."
The prim, midnight-haired templar points at the onyx human female.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man looks up at the onyx human female with a swivel of his darting eyes.
With a sudden bow, eyes downcast, the onyx human female says to the prim, midnight-haired templar, in sirihish:
"I am the Ebony Bardess Gilti, my Lord Templar."
Leaning over, you whisper to the arruth-eyed teen girl in sirihish:
"Lapis, I'm going to need you to try your very best to not be frightened during this."
The prim, midnight-haired templar says to the onyx human female, in sirihish:
"Yes, thats quite wonderful. Fuck off."
The prim, midnight-haired templar points south.
The arruth-eyed teen girl makes a curious facial expression, frowning slightly.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man sweeps his wine-purpled tongue over his teeth, eyeing the onyx human female shrewdly.
The prim, midnight-haired templar says to the onyx human female, in sirihish:
"Your presence in the Temple is not permitted for the moment."
Glancing in the direction his finger points, the onyx human female asks the prim, midnight-haired templar, in sirihish:
"But, Lord Templar, I was going to get somerest in the temple...may I beg leave to do that, rather than leave?"
Gesturing towards the prim, midnight-haired templar, you whisper to the arruth-eyed teen girl in sirihish:
"Between Lord Templar Sarador and myself, we'll be quite safe."
The prim, midnight-haired templar says to the onyx human female, in sirihish:
"You may, though if I see you trying to observe our business you will pay severely."
As her chin nearly meets her chest, the onyx human female says, in sirihish:
"Your will, Lord Templar."
The prim, midnight-haired templar nods, and gestures towards the entrance to the Temple below.
The onyx human female edges along the wall a step, before stepping quickly at the prim, midnight-haired templar's gesture.
The sand over the stairs ripples and parts, rolling away before the onyx human female.
The onyx human female walks down.
The prim, midnight-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"Let us commence then..."
**The group makes their way into the temple**
You whisper to the arruth-eyed teen girl in sirihish:
"But you can't scream or throw any magick or anything. Just stay with Lord Oash."
Whispering as he descends, the dour, gloomy-eyed young man says, in sirihish:
"Wonderful."
The arruth-eyed teen girl glances quickly at you and blinks suddenly.
The prim, midnight-haired templar asks you, in sirihish:
"Is there a chamber which is best suited for this?"
The arruth-eyed teen girl looks at the dour, gloomy-eyed young man.
Nodding and pointing to the south, you say to the prim, midnight-haired templar, in sirihish:
"Yes."
The arruth-eyed teen girl turns to the dour, gloomy-eyed young man and takes a few steps towards him.
**They go to an empty room**
Before the Sand Fountain [E]
A large, black marble figure rises out of the ground here, its arms
outstretched, reaching out towards the viewer. Its large, stylized head
hangs out over a wide, round pool of sand, huge mouth gaping open. Deep
sunk stone eyes peer sightlessly out at the world as, mysteriously, sand
pours endlessly from its gaping mouth, dribbling down its chin and into the
pool of sand. Oddly, the level of the sand in the pool doesn't seem to
change, though the rate at which the sand pours out of the statue's mouth
never seems to slow down.
The pool is tiled with white and black marble tiles, each sixth one
inlaid with the symbol of Ruk in red stone. Candles ring the pool of sand,
casting a yellowish light, and apart from the soft hiss of sand as it pours,
the air is silent. To the east, a large open archway leads out into a
darkened passageway.
Some strips of kank steak are here.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man is standing here, looking a bit winded.
The arruth-eyed teen girl is standing here, looking a bit winded.
The prim, midnight-haired templar is standing here, looking a bit winded.
The veteran mercenary has arrived from the east.
The veteran mercenary has arrived from the east.
The veteran mercenary has arrived from the east.
The veteran mercenary has arrived from the east.
A human Allanaki soldier has arrived from the east.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the east.
close door
Ok.
The arruth-eyed teen girl folds her hands behind her back, lacing the fingers together tightly.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man's guards take up rigid stances oneither side of the doorway, himself standing closely to the wall beside.
You feel a bit nervous, but also excited..
The prim, midnight-haired templar looks towards the dour, gloomy-eyed young man, examining his guard and nods his approval.
You get a ragged hempcloth pouch from a hooded, black aba trimmed in azure.
It is very light, and less than half full.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man snaps two muted fingers towards thearruth-eyed teen girl, then points to the floor beside him against thewall.
The prim, midnight-haired templar says to you, in sirihish:
"You may proceed when you're ready."
The slim, auburn-haired man pours several blue crystals out of your ragged hempcloth pouch in to his hand.
You get a small piece of crystal from a ragged hempcloth pouch.
It is very light.
You get a small piece of crystal from a ragged hempcloth pouch.
It is very light.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man looks at the prim, midnight-haired templar with a returning nod before looking to you.
You get a small piece of crystal from a ragged hempcloth pouch.
It is very light.
You get a small piece of crystal from a ragged hempcloth pouch.
It is very light.
The pouch does not contain 'crystal'.
The prim, midnight-haired templar steps between his escort.
The arruth-eyed teen girl's jaw tightens visibly.
The slim, auburn-haired man steps into the center of the room, next to a large, black marble fountain.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
Glancing over his shoulder, you ask the prim, midnight-haired templar, in sirihish:
"How strong?"
The prim, midnight-haired templar focuses off into space for a moment, before setting his attention on you.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man sends you a telepathic message:
"Make sure you are properly protected."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
The prim, midnight-haired templar says to you, in sirihish:
"I leave that choice to you."
The prim, midnight-haired templar says to you, in sirihish:
"As strong as you feel capable of handling reasonably."
The slim, auburn-haired man nods, then kneels on the ground and presses his hand to the floor.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man nods in agreement from where he stands, eyeing you.
cast 'sul un censored magick words' me
The earth trembles in response to your call.
You are getting hungry.
The slim, auburn-haired man utters the incantation, 'sul un censored magick words'.
Ok.
Your skin turns to a stone-like substance.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man bobs his head silently, his glinting eyes resting on you.
The slim, auburn-haired man returns to his feet and takes a deep breath.
A muted rumble sounds from the walls and floor of the chamber as theslim, auburn-haired man turns to face the far end of the room.
Clutching several blue crystals in one hand, the slim, auburn-hairedman starts to chant. The rumbling strengthens in time with hisvoice, giving it an unnaturally deep quality.
cast 'kral un censored magick words'
The earth trembles in response to your call.
The slim, auburn-haired man utters the incantation, 'kral un censored magick words'.
You lost your concentration!
The prim, midnight-haired templar stands with a resolute expression, posture composed.
The prim, midnight-haired templar shouts, in an unfamiliar tongue:
"py rio naguo oh duihujooo, apgon yaod kuogypr mje sjmorwpa ap a syws-soibs!"
The prim, midnight-haired templar utters the incantation, 'mon un censored magick words'.
The prim, midnight-haired templar's muscles bulge with newfound strength.
The slim, auburn-haired man pauses and takes another long breath beforerepeating the chant, calling forth the rumbling once more.
cast 'kral un censored magick words'
The earth trembles in response to your call.
The prim, midnight-haired templar takes a quiet inhale, gazing at you.
The slim, auburn-haired man utters the incantation, 'kral un censored magick words'.
Ok.
A small piece of crystal folds in upon itself with an audible grinding noise.
You're now wanted!
You focus your will as a man-sized sandstone golem is brought to this plane.
A man-sized sandstone golem falls in behind you.
The prim, midnight-haired templar looks at a man-sized sandstone golem.
l golem
Of average human height, this sandstone mass is an impressive sight if
for nothing more than the depression it causes in the ground: evidence of
its tremendous weight. The head is little more than a block with indented
holes to represent the eyes and wide mouth. Meanwhile, the limbs are thick
and blocky, ending with stubby digits.
A man-sized sandstone golem is in excellent condition.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man looks at a man-sized sandstone golem with a rapid blink of his eyes.
The slim, auburn-haired man grits his teeth and stares at a man-sized sandstone golem.
A man-sized sandstone golem turns to stare at you, the floor groaning under its weight.
The arruth-eyed teen girl's skin pales somewhat, her eyes trailing from you to a man-sized sandstone golem.
The arruth-eyed teen girl looks at a man-sized sandstone golem.
Lowering his hands, you say, in sirihish:
"I have it. It's mine."
The prim, midnight-haired templar nods at you.
Speaking softly, the prim, midnight-haired templar says to a man-sized sandstone golem, in an unfamiliar tongue:
"korqihe va eoo hpoui, pariqei eo ser..."
Its voice crackling like the sounds of rock on rock, a man-sized sandstone golem asks you, in an unfamiliar tongue:
".."ge'x gepa"? gui rhaok r iq iyul ageve?"
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man forces a deep swallow as he glances between you and a man-sized sandstone golem.
You are getting hungry.
The slim, auburn-haired man looks between the prim, midnight-haired templar and a man-sized sandstone golem curiously.
Gesturing at the prim, midnight-haired templar, you say to a man-sized sandstone golem, in sirihish:
"Speak with him."
A man-sized sandstone golem looks at the prim, midnight-haired templar.
The arruth-eyed teen girl's shoulders shake with a gentle but chronic tremble.
A man-sized sandstone golem's rocky mouth turns into a sneering frown as it regards the prim, midnight-haired templar.
You think:
"This is amazing! It -is- intelligent! It speaks!"
The prim, midnight-haired templar asks a man-sized sandstone golem, in an unfamiliar tongue:
"kie tag aoqeargisk ryh, xuk yei? ohef roiijk qe jseojf qfus pys, hgioe kiioee?"
It's voice like the sounds of breaking rock, a man-sized sandstone golem says, in earth-accented sirihish:
"Yes, I speak both tongues, servant of the Putrid Beast."
You think:
"I only hope they're speaking the same language..."
The slim, auburn-haired man bites his lip nervously.
The prim, midnight-haired templar says to a man-sized sandstone golem, in sirihish:
"I will not abide blasphemy..."
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man draws a sharp inhale, recoiling back a bit as he watches a man-sized sandstone golem.
Its voice rocky, a man-sized sandstone golem says to the prim, midnight-haired templar, in earth-accented sirihish:
"Then stop your mouth from moving."
A man-sized sandstone golem says, in earth-accented sirihish:
"For servants of He Who Defiles perform blasphemy against the Old Way, each day they breath."
The arruth-eyed teen girl bites down on her lower lip.
The slim, auburn-haired man shoots an uncertain glance over his shoulder towards the dour, gloomy-eyed young man.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man glances harshly between the prim, midnight-haired templar and you.
You think:
"This can't be good..."
With a faint roll of his eyes, the prim, midnight-haired templar says to a man-sized sandstone golem, in sirihish:
"This is not the topic I had intended to discuss."
Its face stoic as it speaks, a man-sized sandstone golem says to the prim, midnight-haired templar, in earth-accented sirihish:
"But the one who summoned me has ordered me tospeak to you. So speak to you I will.. servant of the RottingKing."
Inhaling sharply, you say to a man-sized sandstone golem, in sirihish:
"Speak and speak politely."
The prim, midnight-haired templar says to you, in sirihish:
"Kelad, ask him about the visions. Thenext words I speak to this blasphemous creature will be the ones todestroy it."
The arruth-eyed teen girl looks at you.
The arruth-eyed teen girl looks at a man-sized sandstone golem.
The slim, auburn-haired man glances at the prim, midnight-haired templar and nods.
Taking a deep breath first, you ask a man-sized sandstone golem, in sirihish:
"I've had a vision, possibly of the place you just came from. Are you aware of this?"
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The prim, midnight-haired templar looks at a man-sized sandstone golem.
Its stone head shifting from side to side, a man-sized sandstone golem says to you, in earth-accented sirihish:
"No."
The prim, midnight-haired templar looks at you.
The prim, midnight-haired templar pardons you of your crimes.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man sends you a telepathic message:
"Tell it you have heard voices, and you need to know if it is really the earth speaking to you.."
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man sends you a telepathic message:
"Or an imposter..."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
Nodding faintly, you ask a man-sized sandstone golem, in sirihish:
"Then, do you know of the one named Betob?"
No emotion showing on its face, a man-sized sandstone golem says to you, in earth-accented sirihish:
"Yes."
You say to a man-sized sandstone golem, in sirihish:
"Tell me about Betob."
A trickle of sand pouring from its mouth, a man-sized sandstone golem says to you, in earth-accented sirihish:
"Betob is a great Mountain of Ruk. One of the more powerful of our kind to exist."
A man-sized sandstone golem says, in earth-accented sirihish:
"With the shaking of the world he could flatten this weak building to the ground."
One stoney hand raising to gesture, a man-sized sandstone golem says, in earth-accented sirihish:
"Bring to the knees of humility half this city."
With a quick nod, you ask a man-sized sandstone golem, in sirihish:
"I understand. Has he been communicating with those like me recently?"
The prim, midnight-haired templar looks at a man-sized sandstone golem.
Both hands opening to show cracks in his palms, a man-sized sandstone golem says, in earth-accented sirihish:
"I do not know. Possibly. He has done so before, when the third city prospered."
contact Lesavius
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the dour, gloomy-eyed young man with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the dour, gloomy-eyed young man:
"I'm out of questions. This creature seems to have confirmed Nara's story, though."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The slim, auburn-haired man nods thoughtfully.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man sends you a telepathic message:
"Ask it -why- Betob might have asked you to look for a 'psiak' component."
The prim, midnight-haired templar says to you, in sirihish:
"As about the component these visions seek."
You dissolve the psychic link.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man sends you a telepathic message:
"And ask it if it might know where you can find something like what Betob is asking you to get for it."
You ask a man-sized sandstone golem, in sirihish:
"Alright, why would the great Betob wish a magick component from this world?"
The slim, auburn-haired man holds out your small piece of crystal demonstrativly.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man sends you a telepathic message:
"What it might look like, what shape it might be, what it would be made of..."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
You hold the crystal.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man stares at you with a glazed distance, a deep breath squaring his posture.
A man-sized sandstone golem holds a hand out towards you, palm up.
The arruth-eyed teen girl stares at a man-sized sandstone golem solemnly.
You give a small piece of crystal to a man-sized sandstone golem.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
A man-sized sandstone golem puts the crystal in his mouth, and chews it, crushing it with a loud, strange crunch.
A man-sized sandstone golem breaks a small piece of crystal.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man sends you a telepathic message:
"You may have to tell it that Betob has specifically asked for a 'psiak' component."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
The slim, auburn-haired man blinks in suprise.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man nods in quiet agreement to himself as he watches a man-sized sandstone golem.
A man-sized sandstone golem says, in earth-accented sirihish:
"Ruk is pure. There are no other elements polluting Ruk."
A man-sized sandstone golem says, in earth-accented sirihish:
"But things of the Plane of Life are the combination of all elements."
Sand pouring from its mouth as it speaks, a man-sized sandstone golem says, in earth-accented sirihish:
"So, there are things here that are unobtainable on Ruk"
You think:
"Got it."
A man-sized sandstone golem says, in earth-accented sirihish:
"Things like water, fire."
With an understanding nod, you ask a man-sized sandstone golem, in sirihish:
"I see. Why then would he want a component for the word 'psiak' in particular?"
The prim, midnight-haired templar looks at a man-sized sandstone golem.
Its rocky shoulders rising a bit, a man-sized sandstone golem says, in earth-accented sirihish:
"I do not know what specifics he wishes it for."
The prim, midnight-haired templar watches a man-sized sandstone golem, expressions drawn in silent observation.
A man-sized sandstone golem says, in earth-accented sirihish:
"You would have to ask him."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man sends you a telepathic message:
"Ask it -what- the component he wants looks like.'Psiak', at 'mon'. Also ask it how you can talk back to Betob."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
With a slow nod, you ask a man-sized sandstone golem, in sirihish:
"Yes well, I may. Do you know, though,what form a psiak component at the power of mon would take?"
A gravely tone to its voice, a man-sized sandstone golem says, in earth-accented sirihish:
"Perhaps Betob intends to create a powerful - or everlasting - enchantment upon himself."
A man-sized sandstone golem holds out its hand towards you, palm up.
The slim, auburn-haired man glances down at his palm.
You give a small piece of crystal to a man-sized sandstone golem.
A man-sized sandstone golem takes the crystal and devours it like food, a loud, strange crunching sound.
You are hungry.
The arruth-eyed teen girl flinches at the crunching.
You think:
"I wonder if they're tasty. Usually I'm a decent cook."
A man-sized sandstone golem says, in earth-accented sirihish:
"A blade with but one edge often embodies Psiak.. find one of great value."
You think:
"Well shit, I knew -that- already."
A man-sized sandstone golem says, in earth-accented sirihish:
"An <censored>, made of <censored>, perhaps.."
You think:
"But that I didn't know."
The slim, auburn-haired man nods quickly.
A man-sized sandstone golem says, in earth-accented sirihish:
"Or a <censored>, like <censored>, <censored>."
The ground seemingly to barely noticably sink beneath its weight, a man-sized sandstone golem says, in earth-accented sirihish:
"Imbued with power, by your hands."
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man pats himself down, bowing his headcuriously as his fingers lay on the hilt of his azure-handled,finely-carved shortsword.
Nodding rapidly, you say to a man-sized sandstone golem, in sirihish:
"Good, good."
Pointing at the prim, midnight-haired templar, a man-sized sandstone golem says, in earth-accented sirihish:
"Likely you could trade his head for it, to the enemies of the King Who Defiles"
The prim, midnight-haired templar grips his medallion of Tektolnes andglares at a man-sized sandstone golem, his other hand pointing towardshim.
The prim, midnight-haired templar shouts, in sirihish:
"In the name of the Highlord, let the foul magicks present here be cleansed!"
The prim, midnight-haired templar utters an incantation.
A fiery light sparks from the prim, midnight-haired templar's hands towards a man-sized sandstone golem.
The diffused air around a man-sized sandstone golem wavers momentarily.
A man-sized sandstone golem becomes less angry.
A man-sized sandstone golem regains mental control.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man flits a quick glance to the veteran mercenary.
The slim, auburn-haired man gasps.
The prim, midnight-haired templar shouts, in sirihish:
"In the name of the Highlord, let the foul magicks present here be cleansed!"
The prim, midnight-haired templar utters an incantation.
The arruth-eyed teen girl's arms fold up over her head.
A human Allanaki soldier tries to protect the prim, midnight-haired templar but fails!
The half-giant soldier tries to protect the prim, midnight-haired templar but fails!
A man-sized sandstone golem lightly hits the prim, midnight-haired templar's leg.
The prim, midnight-haired templar swiftly dodges a man-sized sandstone golem's hits.
A man-sized sandstone golem swiftly dodges the prim, midnight-haired templar's hits.
A man-sized sandstone golem swiftly dodges the prim, midnight-haired templar's hits.
The prim, midnight-haired templar shouts, in sirihish:
"In the name of the Highlord, let the foul magicks present here be cleansed!"
A man-sized sandstone golem hits at the prim, midnight-haired templar's body, nicking him.
The prim, midnight-haired templar swiftly dodges a man-sized sandstone golem's hits.
A man-sized sandstone golem swiftly dodges the prim, midnight-haired templar's hits.
A man-sized sandstone golem swiftly dodges the prim, midnight-haired templar's hits.
The veteran mercenary leaps before the dour, gloomy-eyed young man.
The prim, midnight-haired templar utters an incantation.
A fiery light sparks from the prim, midnight-haired templar's hands towards a man-sized sandstone golem.
The diffused air around a man-sized sandstone golem wavers momentarily.
A man-sized sandstone golem becomes less angry.
A stillness descends around a man-sized sandstone golem and he slowly fades away.
You stop holding a small piece of crystal.
The prim, midnight-haired templar shouts, in sirihish:
"In the name of the Highlord, let the foul magicks present here be cleansed!"
The prim, midnight-haired templar utters an incantation.
The slim, auburn-haired man slowly lowers his hands which he had raised defensivly.
The prim, midnight-haired templar grunts, and steps back as his spell destroys the golem the moments after it strikes.
The arruth-eyed teen girl peeks out between her arms.
The arruth-eyed teen girl's quivers.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man's shoulders deflate in relief, the veteran mercenary moving to the side.
The prim, midnight-haired templar glances down at his bloodiedjade-studded, black-scaled hauberk, a bit of rock and sand visiblewhere the creature hit him.
The prim, midnight-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"Blaspheming creature..."
The prim, midnight-haired templar says to the dour, gloomy-eyed young man, in sirihish:
"We got what we wanted from it."
The prim, midnight-haired templar turns to the dour, gloomy-eyed young man.
Nodding his head sharply as he glances to you, the dour, gloomy-eyedyoung man says to the prim, midnight-haired templar, in sirihish:
"Indeed we did."
The arruth-eyed teen girl licks her dried lips, wetting them.
Clearing his throat before speaking, the dour, gloomy-eyed young man says to you, in sirihish:
"Good work Advisor."
The arruth-eyed teen girl drops her arms back to her sides, with some visible effort.
The prim, midnight-haired templar says to you, in sirihish:
"Yes, Kelad. Well done..."
With an uneasy voice, you say to the dour, gloomy-eyed young man, in sirihish:
"Thankyou... Lord Oash."
Pursing his lips in contemplation, the dour, gloomy-eyed young man says to the prim, midnight-haired templar, in sirihish:
"How interesting how it accepted the offerings..."
The prim, midnight-haired templar says to the dour, gloomy-eyed young man, in sirihish:
"Yes, quite interesting. I suppose that was good food for a creature of Ruk."
The arruth-eyed teen girl opens her mouth, then shuts it with a click of teeth.
Extending a gloved hand, the dour, gloomy-eyed young man says to the prim, midnight-haired templar, in sirihish:
"I'm pleased we didn't have to sacrifice the ruby."
The prim, midnight-haired templar says to the dour, gloomy-eyed young man, in sirihish:
"Yes, that would have been wasteful to give to that pathetic, though wise, creature."
The prim, midnight-haired templar glances at the half-giant soldier and you.
After a few slow breaths, the slim, auburn-haired man calms visibly.
Shifting his gaze back to you, the dour, gloomy-eyed young man asks the prim, midnight-haired templar, in sirihish:
"We just may be able to use it later. Have westill need for the Advisor, or shall we move on elsewhere to discuss?"
Looking at his escort, the prim, midnight-haired templar asks, in sirihish:
"Got scared of it did you? Didn't protect me well did you?"
The slim, auburn-haired man wipes a hand across his stone-grey forehead.
The prim, midnight-haired templar snorts, glaring at the half-giant soldier.
You are famished.
The prim, midnight-haired templar turns back to the dour, gloomy-eyed young man.
The prim, midnight-haired templar says to the dour, gloomy-eyed young man, in sirihish:
"Yes, let us retire to discussion."
With a bit of a wave, the dour, gloomy-eyed young man says to you, in sirihish:
"Regroup yourself, Advisor, and speak with your pupil. We'll speak on this later."
You ask the prim, midnight-haired templar, in sirihish:
"May I have this spell removed, Lord Templar?"
The prim, midnight-haired templar looks at you.
The prim, midnight-haired templar nods.
The arruth-eyed teen girl falls in behind you.
The prim, midnight-haired templar gestures, palm out, at you.
The prim, midnight-haired templar shouts, in sirihish:
"In the name of the Highlord, let the foul magicks present here be cleansed!"
The prim, midnight-haired templar utters an incantation.
A fiery light sparks from the prim, midnight-haired templar's hands towards you.
Your skin becomes softer.
Your skin becomes softer.
The arruth-eyed teen girl wrings her hands tightly in front of her, squeezing the fingers.
The veteran mercenary stops guarding the dour, gloomy-eyed young man.
The veteran mercenary begins guarding the dour, gloomy-eyed young man.
The veteran mercenary stops guarding the dour, gloomy-eyed young man.
The veteran mercenary begins guarding the dour, gloomy-eyed young man.
The veteran mercenary stops guarding you.
The veteran mercenary begins guarding the dour, gloomy-eyed young man.
The veteran mercenary stops guarding you.
The veteran mercenary begins guarding the dour, gloomy-eyed young man.
With a beckon to the two guards watching you, the dour, gloomy-eyed young man says, in sirihish:
"Both of you come with me."
Extending his azure-handled, finely-carved shortsword, the dour, gloomy-eyed young man says to you, in sirihish:
"See if you can do anything with this, Advisor."
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man gives you an azure-handled, finely-carved shortsword.
The prim, midnight-haired templar asks the dour, gloomy-eyed young man, in sirihish:
"Shall we depart then?"
With a sharp nod of his head, the dour, gloomy-eyed young man says to the prim, midnight-haired templar, in sirihish:
"Indeed, let's."
The prim, midnight-haired templar opens the door.
The prim, midnight-haired templar walks east.
The dour, gloomy-eyed young man walks east.
The veteran mercenary walks east.
The veteran mercenary walks east.
The veteran mercenary walks east.
The veteran mercenary walks east.
A human Allanaki soldier walks east.
The half-giant soldier walks east.
close door
Ok.
The arruth-eyed teen girl looks at you.
The slim, auburn-haired man slowly shuts the door then looks over at the arruth-eyed teen girl.
The arruth-eyed teen girl peers at the sand fountain, then to you.
The arruth-eyed teen girl folds her hands behind her back, swallowing.
With a faint smile, you say to the arruth-eyed teen girl, in sirihish:
"You've had an interesting day."
The Temple of Ruk [SD]
The walls of this small temple are made of smooth mud brick, the
greyish red color of their composition left uncovered. The air is still and
quiet, an atmosphere of peace and silence permeating the room. Statues,
carved of dark stone, their forms amorphous and...
Continue Reading...The Case of the "Drove" Beetles by Manhattan
Added on May 5, 2007WARNING: RATED "R" FOR SOME VIOLENCE AND GORE. Come one, come all! Sit back, and revel in the outrageous tale of two militiamen. A patrol out in the desert turns out to be much more than they expected. They soon learn what the consequences are for their exaggerations... Audiences may find a certain comical aspect amongst all of it. Enjoy!
*****From the perspective of the splotched, mauve-tousled man******
You pass beneath the shadow of the black dragon.
Inside the Main Gate [NESW]
The main gate of the city-state of Allanak towers high here, its
twin obsidian towers separating the life-threatening perils of the
desert from the life-threatening perils of the city. Outside of the
gate, a wide road stretches outwards before circling around the city,
side roads branching in all directions: the boulder wastelands to the
west, the flat, empty plains to the south, and the endless, infernal
desert to the infinite north.
Inside the gate, Caravan Road plunges eastward into the heart of
the city, passing by the elemental temples and three Quarters before
reaching its end. Wall Road leads north and south, creeping along
the inside of the high city walls.
A yellow kank stands here, carrying the trim, ebon-haired templar on his back.
The pudgy, brown-haired half-giant soldier watches over the thick gates.
A human soldier of Tektolnes stands here, warily guarding the city gate.
The dark brown elf is standing here.
The bald, harshly-tanned soldier is standing here.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the west.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the west.The brawny, black-haired man has arrived from the west, riding a grey kank.
The trim, ebon-haired templar slips her blackened serrated bone warsword behind her backpack, examining a few ragged tears in her flesh.
Halting her kank and looking back, trying to hide the traces of pain on her face, the trim, ebon-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"Good work, you two."His head kept low in respect, you say to the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"It was a honor, milady. To ride with you."Half-bowing atop his kank, the brawny, black-haired man asks the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"C'n we help ya with anythin' else, Yer Ladyship?"Shaking her head, her left arm pressed against a bloody spot on her robe, the trim, ebon-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"No. I've a few places to go to now."The brawny, black-haired man nods and ushers his kank closer to you.
Turning back to face ahead, the trim, ebon-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"Dismissed."Pausing before he approaches the stables, you say to the brawny, black-haired man, in sirihish:
"Stay on that kank, recruit. You need the practice."The brawny, black-haired man says to you, in sirihish:
"Yessir. I'll ride 'im back and forth 'cross the city ten times if I gotta."You say to the brawny, black-haired man, in sirihish:
"Tell you what, you can practice that riding while we patrol the farming villages."A yellow kank walks east, carrying the trim, ebon-haired templar on his back.
The half-giant soldier walks east.
The half-giant soldier walks east.You ask the brawny, black-haired man, in sirihish:
"You up for it, recruit?"The brawny, black-haired man says to you, in sirihish:
"Sure."--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The two militiamen turn around on their kanks and ride back out into the desert. With Private Harlan at the lead, they begin their regular patrols of Allanak's surrounding villages, Recruit Soriel desperately trying to keep up.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------To the south are Dusty Plains.
[Very far]
Nothing.
[Far]
A huge black beetle crawls around the desert floor.
[Near]
Nothing.The brawny, black-haired man draws an obsidian-bladed battle axe.
You say to the brawny, black-haired man, in sirihish:
"Weapons out."You swing your legs to the side and dismount.
You unsling a massive bone greatsword from your back.
The brawny, black-haired man swings his legs to the side and dismounts.
The brawny, black-haired man draws a crescent-bladed obsidian axe.
Dusty Plains [NESW]
Endless arid plains and rugged rock outcroppings dominate the landscape
here. The desolate ground is mottled, with sand in one place, red dirt in
another, and sharp stones elsewhere; it is as if the winds had discarded
the refuse of creation here. The sun beats down on the barren ground with
heavy, dry heat, and a thick layer of dark red dust cakes everything.
The brawny, black-haired man has arrived from the north.
A grey kank has arrived from the north.
A yellow kank has arrived from the north.A large black beetle has arrived from the south.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Just as the skirmish begins, the duo is instantly torn apart by the beetle in a vicious onslaught. Naturally, the militiamen flee head over heels, spurring their kanks into a breakneck gallop. The beetle follows closely behind them as it scampers across the sands.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------Dusty Plains [NESW]
Endless arid plains and rugged rock outcroppings dominate the landscape
here. The desolate ground is mottled, with sand in one place, red dirt in
another, and sharp stones elsewhere; it is as if the winds had discarded
the refuse of creation here. The sun beats down on the barren ground with
heavy, dry heat, and a thick layer of dark red dust cakes everything.
A huge black beetle crawls around the desert floor.
A kank stands here, its yellow shell mottled with dust.
A grey kank stands here, vigorously waving its pinchers.
The brawny, black-haired man is standing here.A large black beetle bites the brawny, black-haired man on his body, wounding him.
You sling a massive bone greatsword across your back.
You jump up onto a yellow kank's back.
A large black beetle bites the brawny, black-haired man's leg, connecting hard.
The brawny, black-haired man sheathes an obsidian-bladed battle axe.
A large black beetle brutally bites the brawny, black-haired man on his wrist.
You exclaim to the brawny, black-haired man, in sirihish:
"Mount up and ditch!"--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Overwhelmed by the bloodthirsty beetle, Soriel pulls back and stumbles across the plains. Just as things couldn't get worse, another beetle, likely the first ones mate, joins the carnage. Harlan tugs on the reins of Soriel's kank and rides towards the road, where Soriel
was temporarily seeking sanctuary.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------A Rock-lined Road [NESW]
A small road of sorts runs from east to west here, a narrow greyish line
separating the endless dune-filled landscape to the north from the dull and
barren wastelands to the south. Small rocks mark the northern border of the
road, apparently cleared from the path. The crimson sun beats down upon the
dusty road, causing the rocks to shimmer slightly in the intense heat.
The brawny, black-haired man is standing here, bleeding heavily.
A grey kank has arrived from the south.You stop leading a grey kank.
The brawny, black-haired man begins leading a grey kank.
The brawny, black-haired man jumps up onto a grey kank's back.
You say to the brawny, black-haired man, in sirihish:
"C'mon, it's on our tail."--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The militiamen saddle up as fast as they can and continue their escape back to civilization. They make it safely back to Allanak, but not without terrible wounds. They stable their kanks, and assess their situation.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------The brawny, black-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Uh... private... I'm bleedin'.... everywhere."Wobbling in his steps, you say to the brawny, black-haired man, in sirihish:
"Shut..up...ya' lookit..me..."The splotched, mauve-tousled man coughs, dripping blood everywhere.
The brawny, black-haired man looks at you.
The brawny, black-haired man's eyes go wide.
Wavy locks of mauve-colored hair flays wildly on this young man's head.
He has a normal build, pronounced muscles and a somewhat discolored skin
tone. He is pale in some spots but also tanned-brown in others. There is a
light crimson stain the size of a coin on the side of his face, irregularly
shaped and noticeable from afar. His mmauve eyebrows emanate intensity as
they are thinly groomed and close together, as if giving him a scowl which
contradicts with the two permanent dimples on his smooth cheeks.
The splotched, mauve-tousled man looks near death.<worn on head> a new stained black, braxat-shell greathelm
<worn in hair> a thin leather headband
<worn on face> a pair of bone sunslits
<worn around neck> a reddish-brown chitinous collar
<slung across back> a massive bone greatsword
<worn across back> a bahamet-embroidered leather backpack
<worn on arms> a new pair of black, bone scalemail arm-guards
<worn around wrist> a scrab shell wristguard
<worn around wrist> a sleek black quirri-clawed bracer
<worn on hands> a pair of sable, chitin-plated leather gloves
<worn around body> a black, hooded militia dustcloak
<worn on legs> a bloodied set of cuirbouilli leg guards
<worn on right ankle> a black sandcloth bandana
<worn on left ankle> a black sandcloth bandana
<worn on feet> a pair of high, polished black leather bootsHalf-smirking, blood tracing his teeth, you say to the brawny, black-haired man, in sirihish:
"Still standin'."The brawny, black-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Mebbe... we better... go see them... healers... 'r else..."Coughing blood, the brawny, black-haired man says, in sirihish:
"we ain'.. gonna be able... t' go on... t' misshun."--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
With nothing but heading back to the barracks on their mind, they stagger down Theyak's Walk, rapidly losing blood.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------You say to the brawny, black-haired man, in sirihish:
"If ya can't heal in one week, I'll kick yer ass."The splotched, mauve-tousled man clutches his arms, a large gash lacerated on his flesh.
The brawny, black-haired man asks, in sirihish:
"From that? He took half me chest off, and that ain' even half what he did to you?"The splotched, mauve-tousled man pauses for a moment, falling to his knees.
As blood pulsates and spurts from his wounds, you exclaim, in sirihish:
"Krath..shit!"Painedly, the brawny, black-haired man asks you, in sirihish:
"You sure we shouldn' see them healers, Private...?"The splotched, mauve-tousled man eyes the massive pool around his body with wide-eyes of horror.
The brawny, black-haired man says to you, in sirihish:
"Better git afore y' start feelin' all them wounds..."Slowly crawling to his knees, you say to the brawny, black-haired man, in sirihish:
"Back...to the barracks...medics..."The brawny, black-haired man grunts and wraps an arm around your shoulders, helping you up.
The splotched, mauve-tousled man falls onto the brawny, black-haired man's arms, blood spilling all over the brawny, black-haired man's clothes.
The brawny, black-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Yessir..."--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
With Harlan slumped over his shoulders, Soriel painfully trudges towards the barracks.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------Eyeing his messy red wounds with horror, you exclaim to the brawny, black-haired man, in sirihish:
"What the fuck devil beetle was that!"The small, red-mopped boy sends you a telepathic message:
"I don't know where you are or what in Krath happened to you, but I've already informed the Vivaduans to make preparations to save your life. I'd get to their temple as soon as possible...You look like hell."As he stumbles through the gates, the brawny, black-haired man exclaims to the dusty, brown-haired soldier, in sirihish:
"Were five beetles, ambushed us! Crazy drov beetles they was!"A Roomy Barracks [NEW]
The thickness of the dull red mud bricks of which this barracks has
been built provides it with a coolness which resists the worst of the
Zalanthan sun. The furnishings are simple: neatly ordered cots sit in rows,
a few with footlockers built into one end, while a large weapons rack hangs
on the wall underneath a wooden frieze depicting the desert, gith, jozhals
and scrabs moving through the dunes. Below the frieze, extending down the
walls and covering the floor, are ceramic tiles composed of all the hues of
the desert: vermilion, bronze, amber, rust, tawny yellow, and ochre. The
tiles are laid in an abstract, undulating pattern reminiscent of rolling
dunes.
A simple wooden chest sits here on the floor.
A cracked stone storage bin, nearly falling apart, has been put here.
The brawny, black-haired man is standing here, bleeding heavily.The splotched, mauve-tousled man grunts as he is dragged along by the brawny, black-haired man, a bloody red trail in his wake.
The brawny, black-haired man drags you over to a cot and lowers you down before falling down to one near it.
The splotched, mauve-tousled man falls backwards into a small leather cot.
Groaning, the brawny, black-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Tryin'.. t' find... them healers'... minds...."His voice barely a whisper, you say to the brawny, black-haired man, in sirihish:
"Vivaduan temple...now...healers...waiting..."The splotched, mauve-tousled man rolls and falls from his cot.
Groaning as he pushes up, the brawny, black-haired man says to you, in sirihish:
"C'mon Private... I'll.. drag ya..."The brawny, black-haired man grabs your arms weakly to pull you up, and uses his brawny bulk to support your weight.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The wounded men make their way to the Vivaduan Temple, so close yet so far...and not without staining the streets with their dripping blood.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------The slender, sun-browned man sends you a telepathic message:
"If you're as fucked up as Jasper says, I'd suggest coming to the Temple, Private."Stumbling in as he half-carries a bloodied man, red streaks following his wake, the brawny, black-haired man walks west.
You follow the brawny, black-haired man, and walk west.The Temple of Vivadu [EW]
Here inside the Temple of Vivadu, the architecture is simple and
serene, surfaces unadorned to allow the beauty of the stonework to show
unobscured by excess ornamentation. In the center lies a large pool of
water, its basin carved of smooth blue stone, elementalists sitting around
it to meditate while contemplating its unruffled surface. The walls are
curved, forming a large cylinder which arches upwards towards a low,
white-painted dome. The floor is composed of alternating blue and grey
ceramic tiles, laid in rippling, wave-like patterns. In small alcoves along
the wall sit abstract sculptures, their clean, uncomplicated lines pleasing
to the eye.
An open archway, made of smooth grey stone, leads eastward outside the
temple towards Vivadu's Path. To the west, in the middle of the wall, a
small door appears to lead further into the temple.
The brawny, black-haired man is standing here, bleeding heavily.
The small, red-mopped boy is standing here.
The willowy, tangle-haired girl is standing here.
The slender, sun-browned man is standing here.
The sleek, pale-eyed woman stands here in quiet contemplation.Pointing weakly with a finger, you say to the brawny, black-haired man, in sirihish:
"There...there.."The willowy, tangle-haired girl's cheeks flush as she stares at the still-empty waterskin.
A fine mist condenses near the willowy, tangle-haired girl as she begins a spell.
The willowy, tangle-haired girl utters an incantation.
The willowy, tangle-haired girl opens her palm and water flows from her skin into a leather waterskin.Softly, the willowy, tangle-haired girl says, in rinthi-accented sirihish:
"c'mon dammit..."Turning towards the commotion at the entryway, the small, red-mopped boy says to the slender, sun-browned man, in sirihish:
"There they are."Keeping his gaze towards you as he furrows his brows, though speaking to the willowy, tangle-haired girl, the slender, sun-browned man says, in sirihish:
"Keep yourself relaxed, don't force anything.."Moisture suddenly swells up around the willowy, tangle-haired girl as water fills her leather waterskin completely and even overflows out of it.
Shaking his head as blood seeps onto the ground, you exclaim to the slender, sun-browned man, in sirihish:
"No, no, your floors... your floors!"The small, red-mopped boy looks up at you with a grim face as he steps back.
The brawny, black-haired man drags you a little further and then simply collapses as his knees give out.
Dropping you beside him, the brawny, black-haired man sits down to rest.
The willowy, tangle-haired girl looks at you going very still, with wide blue eyes.
Shifting his attention to the brawny, black-haired man with a brisk tone, the small, red-mopped boy asks, in sirihish:
"Recruit, what in Drov happened, and where is the Lady Templar?"Collapsing and following next to the brawny, black-haired man, you sit down and rest your tired bones.
Stepping towards you as he flicks his left hand dismissively, the slender, sun-browned man says, in sirihish:
"It's fine, Harlan. Keep quiet, hmm? I'm relatively certain my waters can clean a few stains.."Looking up, his voice weak, the brawny, black-haired man says to the small, red-mopped boy, in sirihish:
"She's fine... we went out fer a patrol after she got back... were five beetles... drov-beetles they was.. ambushed us..."Pressing his lips together as he shifts his azure-stained gaze towards the brawny, black-haired man, the slender, sun-browned man asks, in sirihish:
"Drov-beetles?"The splotched, mauve-tousled man's eyelids shut as he fades in and out of consciousness, his head rolling in the brawny, black-haired man's lap.
Murmuring to himself, the small, red-mopped boy asks, in sirihish:
"Five?"The small, red-mopped boy asks the brawny, black-haired man, in sirihish:
"How close to the city?"Nodding weakly, the brawny, black-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Were the size of.. of... giants... crazed... out fer blood..."Grunting softly to himself as he graps your ankles, dragging you to the edge of a shallow stone pool with a heavy grunt, the slender, sun-browned man asks, in sirihish:
"Jasper, tell him to shut up for now.. Contact the Lady Templar Oash, and bring here her, hmm?"Meekly, shivering as she stares at the two bleeding men, the willowy, tangle-haired girl says, in rinthi-accented sirihish:
"I... I um... yer skin's full."Sighing gently to himself, the slender, sun-browned man furrows his brows as he gazes downward towards you, lightly clasping his hands together as they shine with a faint layer of moisture.
The willowy, tangle-haired girl pushes her leather waterskin over to the small, red-mopped boy.
Dropping to his knees, the small, red-mopped boy says to the slender, sun-browned man, in sirihish:
"I believe she's unavailable, as i tried earlier. But I'll search for her mind again."The small, red-mopped boy sits down to rest.
Pausing to flash a quick smile up at the willowy, tangle-haired girl, the small, red-mopped boy says, in sirihish:
"Thanks."Surrendering a soft sigh, the slender, sun-browned man whispers a soothing hymn to himself, drawing his palms downward as light tendrils of mist begin to flood downward, seeping along your form within a shimmering sheen of dew.
The willowy, tangle-haired girl flushes and then slowly drags herself over near the slender, sun-browned man.
A fine mist condenses near the slender, sun-browned man as he begins a spell.
The slender, sun-browned man utters an incantation.
A warm feeling fills you, as wounds close all over your body.Quietly, the willowy, tangle-haired girl says to the slender, sun-browned man, in rinthi-accented sirihish:
"Lemme help..."Raising his left hand as he motions his chin towards the brawny, black-haired man, the slender, sun-browned man says, in sirihish:
"Help him, then, until I can treat him.."The brawny, black-haired man's eyes go wide as he watches the slender, sun-browned man.
The willowy, tangle-haired girl looks down at the brawny, black-haired man and nods slowly.
Shaking his head as he rises again, the small, red-mopped boy says, in sirihish:
"No, I can't reach any of the Templarate."The small, red-mopped boy rises from the ground, and clambers to his feet.
Relaxing his form visibly, the slender, sun-browned man clenches his rune-etched hands together, his knuckles turning white with strain as a small droplet splashes downward against your chest, allowing the rivulet to spread across a bloodied wound.
A fine mist condenses near the slender, sun-browned man as he begins a spell.
The slender, sun-browned man utters an incantation.
A warm feeling fills you, as wounds close all over your body.The willowy, tangle-haired girl pads over to the brawny, black-haired man and kneels down, brushing her hair out of her eyes as she looks over his wounds.
The small, red-mopped boy takes a swig from his leather waterskin as he shifts his attention to the brawny, black-haired man again.
Pulling back his hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth duster, the brawny, black-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Me leg... 'n half me ribs... that beetle were ferocious..."Sniffing softly as he brushes the underside of his nose, slowly rising to his feet as he glances downward towards you, the slender, sun-browned man says, in sirihish:
"Stay down there as long as you want.. You'll be fine, now."Blinking in surprise as he removes his leather waterskin from his lips, the small, red-mopped boy says, in sirihish:
"That's very good, Flower."The willowy, tangle-haired girl takes a deep breath, her hands shaking as she lays them on the brawny, black-haired man's chest, finding the open skin of the bleeding wounds with a warm touch.
The splotched, mauve-tousled man peers down at his torso with complete shock.
A fine mist condenses near the willowy, tangle-haired girl as she begins a spell.
The willowy, tangle-haired girl utters an incantation.
The willowy, tangle-haired girl heals the brawny, black-haired man.The willowy, tangle-haired girl passes her hands down over the brawny, black-haired man's chest and then down to his pants, then falls backward with a gasp, her body covered in a faint sheen of moisture.
Watching as his wounds visibly close up in front of him, by magickal forces, you ask the slender, sun-browned man, in sirihish:
"What the...where....wounds....gone?"The slender, sun-browned man folds his arms lightly across his chest as he watches the willowy, tangle-haired girl for a moment, flicking his azure-stained gaze towards a shallow stone pool as he quietly approaches it's edge, surrendering a painful sigh.
The splotched, mauve-tousled man summons the strength and picks himself up onto his feet.
Cringing for a moment as he gazes towards a shallow stone pool, before looking back towards you, the slender, sun-browned man says, in sirihish:
"Yes, they're gone, now.."Straightening, you rise and stand.
The brawny, black-haired man shivers in anticipation as moisture gathers around the willowy, tangle-haired girl, squeezing his eyes shut, then blinks them open a few times and sits straight up.
Speaking quietly as he heads for the street, the small, red-mopped boy says to the slender, sun-browned man, in sirihish:
"You've got enough people in here without me too, Kasyh. I'll be in the Barrel if you're feeling up to venturing out later."His cheeks flushing back to a healthy, glowing complexion, you say to the slender, sun-browned man, in sirihish:
"Kasyh."Glancing over his left shoulder towards the small, red-mopped boy, the slender, sun-browned man says, in sirihish:
"She's coming.."The brawny, black-haired man pulls back his hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth duster, freshly healed pink skin visible under the breaks in his breastplate and pants.
Pausing as he glances back over at the slender, sun-browned man, the small, red-mopped boy asks, in sirihish:
"Who's coming?"Pushing up to his feet with a dazed expression, the brawny, black-haired man rises and stands.
The brawny, black-haired man takes a few steps testingly.
Shaking his head faintly as he looks back towards you, the slender, sun-browned man says, in sirihish:
"It's my job, Private.."As he finds himself able to walk, the brawny, black-haired man shouts, in sirihish:
"Highlord be praised! She done fixed me!"Turning from the edge of a shallow stone pool completely, regaining his own posture, the slender, sun-browned man says, in sirihish:
"The Lady Templar Oash."The brawny, black-haired man rushes back over to the willowy, tangle-haired girl and envelops her in a tight hug of his huge arms.
The trim, ebon-haired templar has arrived from the east.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the east.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the east.The brawny, black-haired man shouts, in sirihish:
"She done fixed me! I's saved!"The willowy, tangle-haired girl squeaks against the brawny, black-haired man's chest.
The small, red-mopped boy looks up at the trim, ebon-haired templar's entrance and bends at the waist.
Striding in briskly, her tone annoyed, the trim, ebon-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"Militia, start talking."Keeping a calmed, if nozt slightly drained expression, the slender, sun-browned man bows respectfully towards the trim, ebon-haired templar upon her approa.
The splotched, mauve-tousled man turns upon hearing entrance, then snaps a firm salute to the trim, ebon-haired templar.
The brawny, black-haired man looks over at the trim, ebon-haired templar, then back at the willowy, tangle-haired girl, then down to the gem around the willowy, tangle-haired girl's neck.
The brawny, black-haired man releases the willowy, tangle-haired girl quickly and backs away slowly.
You say to the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"We went out to patrol the farming villages, milady. And was ambushed by a horde of drov-beetles the size of giants."Gazing to you sharply, the trim, ebon-haired templar asks you, in sirihish:
"Which village?"You say to the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"Menos, milady."The willowy, tangle-haired girl looks at the brawny, black-haired man with a light frown and sighs, padding over to sit on the floor by herself.
The trim, ebon-haired templar says to you, in sirihish:
"Direction, not some name that means nothing to me."Muttering, the willowy, tangle-haired girl sits down to rest.
The brawny, black-haired man points westward.
His breathing firm and steady, his flesh healed over pink, you say to the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"South of 'nak. In the fields."The small, red-mopped boy shoots a quick glance at the slender, sun-browned man before scrunching his face up thoughtfully.
Grimacing faintly and peering over her shoulder, the trim, ebon-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"Show me at dawn."The slender, sun-browned man dips his head lightly towards the small, red-mopped boy as he twists his lips to one side, thoughtfully.
His face flushing red, his cheek muscles tensing, you ask the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"Show...show you, Lady Templar?"Crossing her arms over her chest, the trim, ebon-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"Yes. Private, you may stay. All others who have no business being in the temple of Vivadu, get out."The brawny, black-haired man glances over at you uneasily.
Immediately, you say to the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"Yes, right away."The brawny, black-haired man bows to the trim, ebon-haired templar and starts to shuffle out, glancing aside at the willowy, tangle-haired girl.
The small, red-mopped boy bows briefly to the trim, ebon-haired templar as he moves towards the street outside.
The slender, sun-browned man folds his arms within the sleeves of his water-hued robes, idly pacing along the edge of a shallow stone pool.
Stepping out quickly, the brawny, black-haired man walks east.
Without looking at her as he passes the willowy, tangle-haired girl, the small, red-mopped boy says, in sirihish:
"Thanks for the water."The small, red-mopped boy walks east.
Annoyedly, muttering to herself, the willowy, tangle-haired girl says, in rinthi-accented sirihish:
"'She done fixed me! I's saved!' Blah blah blah..."The slender, sun-browned man raises his right hand from his chest, snapping his fingers as his lips start to move, glancing back towards the willowy, tangle-haired girl.
Turning to look out to the street, the trim, ebon-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"Vivaduans, at dawn you'll place what protective magicks you can on me, and then Private Harlan if able."The willowy, tangle-haired girl snorts and jerks a hand up, raising a middle finger towards the entrance of the temple.
The willowy, tangle-haired girl quickly looks back to the slender, sun-browned man and hides her hand behind her back.
The splotched, mauve-tousled man peers with distaste at the willowy, tangle-haired girl.
Bowing his head lightly, keeping his gaze downward, the slender, sun-browned man whispers something to the trim, ebon-haired templar.
The trim, ebon-haired templar pinches the bridge of her nose lightly.
The willowy, tangle-haired girl sighs, pulling her knees up to her chest.
The trim, ebon-haired templar asks you, in sirihish:
"Is this village easily within walking distance?"Leaning up against the archway, the trim, ebon-haired templar sits down.
After a moment's thought, you say to the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"It is...but not adviseable, milady."Nodding, the trim, ebon-haired templar says to you, in sirihish:
"Very well. Unless you've two mount tickets on you, go fetch another."Nodding once more and holding out her hand, the trim, ebon-haired templar stands up.
You give a stitched, obsidian-dyed ticket to the trim, ebon-haired templar.
Lowering her voice, the trim, ebon-haired templar asks you, in sirihish:
"Did you see any sign of who summoned them?"Shaking his head, you say to the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"No milady, those black armored beasts just rampaged from across the horizon."Starting to pace away, the trim, ebon-haired templar says to you, in sirihish:
"I see. Just in case, come here."The trim, ebon-haired templar walks west.
You follow the trim, ebon-haired templar, and walk west.Moving up the stairs, not slowing as she nears the thorns, the trim, ebon-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"I don't like crowds."--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Lady Templar Anezka finds an empty room upstairs.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------The trim, ebon-haired templar gazes around, making sure the chamber is empty.
The trim, ebon-haired templar closes the door.
Turning to you, raising her right hand, the trim, ebon-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"A temporary gift from the Highlord."The trim, ebon-haired templar touches your forehead, her finger surrounding itself with greenish light while her lips move silently.
The trim, ebon-haired templar shouts, in sirihish:
"In the name of the Highlord, let my eyes see true foul magicks hidden from me!"The trim, ebon-haired templar utters an incantation.
You feel in tune with the elements.The trim, ebon-haired templar looks at you thoughtfully.
The splotched, mauve-tousled man blinks his eyes, the pupils glowing green.
Keeping her hand in place, the trim, ebon-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"And one more..."The trim, ebon-haired templar shouts, in sirihish:
"In the name of the Highlord, let those hidden by magicks be rendered visible!"The trim, ebon-haired templar utters an incantation.
Your eyes tingle.The splotched, mauve-tousled man jostles, his eyes washing over in another dazzling flash of colors.
Your encumbrance is manageable.
You are:
Recruit of the Allanak Militia Recruits, jobs:
Private / Archer / Soldier / Black Soldier / Clerk / Praetorian Guard of the Arm of the Dragon, jobs:
Relationship to the land is neutral.
You are currently speaking sirihish with a southern accent.
You are affected by:
Detect Invisible, Detect Magick
You are standing.
You are refusing saves (nosave on).
You are not being merciful.Moving back to the door, the trim, ebon-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"If any are attempting to hide with magicks, you shall see them. And I'd suggest you keep this to yourself."The trim, ebon-haired templar opens the door.
His eyes opening and dilating with renewed vigor, you say to the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"An honor milady."The trim, ebon-haired templar nods her head firmly.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
They leave the temple and make their way to the city gates. Concerned with the gravity of the situation, Lady Templar requests further assistance from the Gemmed and an outfit of militia soldiers.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------Outside the Main Gate [NESW]
The two dark towers of Allanak's main gate lie just to the east, soaring
skyward in an apparent attempt to pierce the endless sky above. Their rough
red stones look as if they could stand firm for all eternity, towering over
fifty cords above. The gate itself is a large stone barricade of sorts that
is normally closed only at night. The Outer Circle extends to the north and
to the south from here.
A black steel dragon sits atop the mighty walls, gazing hungrily towards
the western horizon from its place by the towers. A large crowd of Allanaki
citizens--from the filthiest commoner to the most refined noble--gathers at
the wall below the statue, all in various degrees of prostration before the
great beast.
A human soldier of Tektolnes lounges in the shade of the statue here.
A human soldier of Tektolnes walks along here.
A yellow kank stands here, carrying the trim, ebon-haired templar on his back.
The small, red-mopped boy lingers at the edge of the morning crowds.
The slight, dark-skinned man is standing here.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the east.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the east.The figure in a set of hooded, water-hued robes has arrived from the east.
The willowy, tangle-haired girl has arrived from the east.The willowy, tangle-haired girl raises the hood of a hooded, ebony cloak.
The trim, ebon-haired templar falls in behind you.
Nodding, the trim, ebon-haired templar says to you, in sirihish:
"Bring me just beyond sight of it."Riding a yellow kank forward, you say to the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"Menos, milady."The trim, ebon-haired templar unslings a blackened serrated bone warsword from her back.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
They ride in silence through the golden wheat fields of 'nak, before Menos rises into view.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------West of here are Barren Fields.
[Very far]
Nothing.
[Far]
A broad, sprawling farm village lies in the fields here.
[Near]
Nothing.Raising a hand to shield his eyes from the harsh sunrays, you say, in sirihish:
"There it is, Lady Templar."Glancing around, the trim, ebon-haired templar asks you, in sirihish:
"You saw them in front of it?"You say, in sirihish:
"The largest farming village to supply Allanak...Menos."Nodding, you say to the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"Yes, those beetles were around the vicinity."The trim, ebon-haired templar nods, gesturing onward.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
They pull their bleating kanks towards the head of the village, and survey the area.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------The splotched, mauve-tousled man pulls to a halt beside the entrance.
The trim, ebon-haired templar rides up by a broad, sprawling farm village, peering within.
You ask the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"You think a sorceror may be hiding in there?"The trim, ebon-haired templar asks you, in sirihish:
"Doubtful, but possible. It happened right here?"You say to the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"No, I will show you."--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
With Private Harlan at the lead, they traverse across the desert of the Vrun Driath, the unrelenting glare of Suk-krath beating on their backs.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------The splotched, mauve-tousled man glances around warily, hands gripping the reins tightly.
The trim, ebon-haired templar says to you, in sirihish:
"Try bringing us in at an angle."The splotched, mauve-tousled man nods silently to the trim, ebon-haired templar.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Some time passes, and they are still riding quietly across the desert.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------The trim, ebon-haired templar asks, in sirihish:
"How much farther?"Shaking his head with disbelief, you say, in sirihish:
"Krath...it's moved across the entire desert..."To the north is Dusty Plains.
[Very far]
Nothing.
[Far]
A huge black beetle crawls around the desert floor.
[Near]
Nothing.A tremor in his voice, you say to the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"There, milady...that cursed beast."Gesturing lightly, the trim, ebon-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"With me now."You now follow the trim, ebon-haired templar.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
They circle around the beetle, dismount, and draw their weapons. The battle ensues...
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------A human Allanaki soldier slashes a large black beetle's neck, inflicting a grievous wound.
The splotched, mauve-tousled man pants heavily, stepping back as the massive beetle crashes to the ground.
The trim, ebon-haired templar gazes down at the body of a large black beetle expectantly, then climbs onto her kank, tucking a sword away.
Worried, you ask the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"Will it explode now, milady?"Riding off to the north, the trim, ebon-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"A regular beetle."--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
They continue their trek through the desert, an air of suspicion rising about the Lady Templar.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------Raising her eyebrows, the trim, ebon-haired templar asks you, in sirihish:
"What gave you the idea they were summoned magickally?"You say to the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"You said they were summoned, Lady Templar."The trim, ebon-haired templar asks you, in sirihish:
"When did I say such a thing?"You say to the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"When I told you we nearly died, Lady Templar..."Glancing behind his back, you ask the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"It won't come back to life and chase us, will it?"Sighing, the trim, ebon-haired templar asks you, in sirihish:
"Private...those beetles are common to this area. You and the recruit had mentioned the beetles were summoned by Drov, did you not?"You say to the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"It was...eating us alive... I...saved..."--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
At a further loss for words, Private Harlan rides on with the Lady Templar back to 'nak.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------Outside the Main Gate [NESW]
The two dark towers of Allanak's main gate lie just to the east, soaring
skyward in an apparent attempt to pierce the endless sky above. Their rough
red stones look as if they could stand firm for all eternity, towering over
fifty cords above. The gate itself is a large stone barricade of sorts that
is normally closed only at night. The Outer Circle extends to the north and
to the south from here.
A black steel dragon sits atop the mighty walls, gazing hungrily towards
the western horizon from its place by the towers. A large crowd of Allanaki
citizens--from the filthiest commoner to the most refined noble--gathers at
the wall below the statue, all in various degrees of prostration before the
great beast.
A half-giant soldier of Tektolnes stands here impassively.
A half-giant soldier of Tektolnes walks along here.
A human soldier of Tektolnes lounges in the shade of the statue here.
A human soldier of Tektolnes walks along here.
A yellow kank stands here, carrying the trim, ebon-haired templar on his back.
The willowy, tangle-haired girl is standing here.
The figure in a set of hooded, water-hued robes is standing here.
The brawny, black-haired man is standing here.The brawny, black-haired man bows to the trim, ebon-haired templar as the large group approaches.
Looking back, tucking her sword away, the trim, ebon-haired templar asks you, in sirihish:
"Where there five, Private? Or just two?"Similiarly, the figure in a set of hooded, water-hued robes bows respectfully towards the trim, ebon-haired templar, before slowly straightening his form.
You say to the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"I saw two, milady."The figure in a set of hooded, water-hued robes blinks several times, glancing over towards the brawny, black-haired man, then back towards you.
The trim, ebon-haired templar frowns and rides up closer to you, solidly thumping the flat of her blackened serrated bone warsword against your head.
The willowy, tangle-haired girl attempts an awkward bow toward the trim, ebon-haired templar.
The splotched, mauve-tousled man grunts, the heavy bone crashing against his skull.
Turning to the gates, scowling, the trim, ebon-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"Gemmed...you won't be needed. You two, come to the recruit barracks."The trim, ebon-haired templar touches her hand against her medallion of Tektolnes before riding on.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
They head to the barracks.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------A Small Training Yard [S]
This dusty square yard is enclosed by sturdy-looking stone walls topped
with shards of broken glass. The walls appear to be either fairly new or
relatively well maintained, though they bear a number of rough scuff marks
and scratches. The ground is hard-packed and fairly flat, allowing the dust
to tell its tale of combats fought here. To the north, a wooden weapons
rack is set along the wall, and to the south, a small wooden gate opens up
into a courtyard.
A shadow falls over the area, driving off the uncomfortable heat.
A bench, made of worn grey stone, sits against a wall.
The trim, ebon-haired templar is standing here.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the south.
The half-giant soldier has arrived from the south.The brawny, black-haired man has arrived from the south.
The brawny, black-haired man hurries in on the double and bows to the trim, ebon-haired templar.
Striding into the middle of a clearing, the trim, ebon-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"Both of you, remove your dustcloaks, backpacks, any weapons hung on your back, and chest protection."The splotched, mauve-tousled man heaves a breath before immediately acquiescing.
The brawny, black-haired man swallows as he starts unstrapping his gear.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Uneasily, they begin stripping off their clothes, shaking on their knees in fear.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------Crossing her arms over her chest, the trim, ebon-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"And while you do that, explain how the fuck five beetles summoned from Drov itself turned out to be two beetles commonly found in the area."His voice hoarse, the brawny, black-haired man says to the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"Well... er... y'see... Lady Templar.. er... we was..."As he strips off his clothes, his torso bared against the sun, you say to the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"We both nearly died, milady. We ran like the wind when it hit us only twice, trying to eat us."The trim, ebon-haired templar slips her hand into her oversized black backpack, pulling out a coiled length of leather.
Clearing his throat, the brawny, black-haired man says, in sirihish:
".. uh... tryin'... not t' make His Militia look bad... t' them gemmers 'n that kid."The trim, ebon-haired templar gets a wickedly barbed whip from an oversized black backpack.
Nodding enthusiastically to you, the brawny, black-haired man exclaims to the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"It sure were real vicious!"You say to the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"Lady Templar, the entire unit was given ten lashes just a few days ago..."The splotched, mauve-tousled man gazes down at the ground, the fresh wounds upon his back pink under the sun.
Letting the barbed tips of her whip drop, the trim, ebon-haired templar says to you, in sirihish:
"I know, Private."The trim, ebon-haired templar brandishes a wickedly barbed whip.
The splotched, mauve-tousled man kneels to the ground as if automatically, head bowed into the dust.
Head bowed, kneeling low in the ground, back bared, you say, in sirihish:
"Lord Templar Vaedon says pain will cleanse the mind. Do what you must, my lady."The trim, ebon-haired templar walks behind the brawny, black-haired man, then suddenly cracks her wickedly barbed whip, opening a wide gash on his back.
The trim, ebon-haired woman raises a wickedly barbed whip and lashes out at the brawny, black-haired man.
*CRACK* A long, bloody gash opens up on the brawny, black-haired man's back.Falling to his knees and letting out a cry through clenched teeth, the brawny, black-haired man sits down.
The trim, ebon-haired templar brings her bloodied wickedly barbed whip down again, the spurs lodging themselves into the brawny, black-haired man's flesh before she tears them out with another flick of her wrist.
The trim, ebon-haired woman raises a wickedly barbed whip and lashes out at the brawny, black-haired man.
*CRACK* A long, bloody gash opens up on the brawny, black-haired man's back.The brawny, black-haired man cries out both as the whip hits and as it pulls away, his hands grabbing at the hard, dusty ground.
The splotched, mauve-tousled man does not bear to glance up, his head lowered as it stares into the ground, awaiting.
The trim, ebon-haired templar snaps her bloodied wickedly barbed whip one last time, each of its nine barbed braids slicing through the brawny, black-haired man.
The trim, ebon-haired woman raises a wickedly barbed whip and lashes out at the brawny, black-haired man.
*CRACK* A long, bloody gash opens up on the brawny, black-haired man's back.The trim, ebon-haired templar looks down at the brawny, black-haired man as she moves to stand by you.
Blood streaks down the brawny, black-haired man's back as he bites down into the leather sleeves on his arms, his back shaking.
The splotched, mauve-tousled man steadies his breathing, unperturbed by the brawny, black-haired man's cries of agony.
Looking over your back, searching for the deepest lash before opening a fresh one over it, the trim, ebon-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"Pride is one thing, lying about it to your superior is another."The trim, ebon-haired woman raises a wickedly barbed whip and lashes out at you.
*CRACK* Fiery pain dizzies you as the blow savages your back.The splotched, mauve-tousled man lifts a fist and bites down on it, reallocating the pain searing across his bare back.
The trim, ebon-haired templar lifts her right boot, stomping the heel against the fresh cut on you.
Hot tears streaming down his cheeks, you say to the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"That moment, Lady Templar...they were truly monster beetles....no pride, no pride, my lady."Cracking her bloodied wickedly barbed whip again, ripping through your flesh, the trim, ebon-haired templar shouts, in sirihish:
"They're bugs!"The trim, ebon-haired woman raises a wickedly barbed whip and lashes out at you.
*CRACK* Fiery pain dizzies you as the blow savages your back.The splotched, mauve-tousled man digs his nails into the dusty ground, firmly gripping it in pain.
With a final sharp snap of her wrist, the trim, ebon-haired templar opens up a long gash crossing over your shoulder blades.
The trim, ebon-haired woman raises a wickedly barbed whip and lashes out at you.
*CRACK* Fiery pain dizzies you as the blow savages your back.Spittle flies from the splotched, mauve-tousled man's mouth as he cries in pain.
First kicking you down to the ground, then doing the same to the brawny, black-haired man, the trim, ebon-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"Serve well as you had on the patrol, and you'll be rewarded well..."The splotched, mauve-tousled man shivers in his own bloody mess, the lacerations in his back reopened and pulsating, spewing blood with each heartbeat.
Sending the tip of her bloodied wickedly barbed whip into the air with a loud *CRACK*, flinging off bits of blood and flesh, the trim, ebon-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"Fuck up so bad and lie about it, and I'll make you wish you were dead long before I grant that mercy."The trim, ebon-haired templar quickly wipes the blood off of a bloodied wickedly barbed whip.
The brawny, black-haired man swallows and nods, managing to look up, his eyes bleary.
Lying prostrate before the trim, ebon-haired templar, struggling to speak, you say to the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"Merciful, milady. You are merciful. We thank you...thank you..."Looking between you and the brawny, black-haired man and coiling her whip back up, the trim, ebon-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"Neither of you are allowed to go on patrols outside the city without an officer or higher. And you'll not get these wounds healed by the Vivaduans."Weakly, the brawny, black-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Yes milady.... merciful... no patrollin'..."Barely able to nod his head, you say to the trim, ebon-haired templar, in sirihish:
"Understood, Lady Templar...each cut across my back serves as a lesson, milady."While tucking her wickedly barbed whip away, turning, the trim, ebon-haired templar says, in sirihish:
"There's hope for both of you. Don't fuck it up by being stupid."The splotched, mauve-tousled man lies flat in a red pool of blood then scrambles to his knees as he hurries to scoop of bits of his own flesh littering the ground.
The brawny, black-haired man nods to the trim, ebon-haired templar weakly once again, grabbing up his discarded armor and duster.
A Roomy Barracks [NEW]
The thickness of the dull red mud bricks of which this barracks has
been built provides it with a coolness which resists the worst of the
Zalanthan sun. The furnishings are simple: neatly ordered cots sit in rows,
a few with footlockers built into one end, while a large weapons rack hangs
on the wall underneath a wooden frieze depicting the desert, gith, jozhals
and scrabs moving through the dunes. Below the frieze, extending down the
walls and covering the floor, are ceramic tiles composed of all the hues of
the desert: vermilion, bronze, amber, rust, tawny yellow, and ochre. The
tiles are laid in an abstract, undulating pattern reminiscent of rolling
dunes.
A simple wooden chest sits here on the floor.
A cracked stone storage bin, nearly falling apart, has been put here.The brawny, black-haired man has arrived from the west, dragging himself in.
The splotched, mauve-tousled man stumbles to the floor.
Falling face-forward, the brawny, black-haired man rests on a small leather cot.
Falling on his rear, you sit down.
The splotched, mauve-tousled man quickly tosses his armors back on, his wounds drying and hard.
The brawny, black-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Well shit.... we done fucked that up..."Glancing up at a small leather cot weakly, you say to the brawny, black-haired man, in sirihish:
"That was something."You say to the brawny, black-haired man, in sirihish:
"Fortunate she spared us with a lashing, s'all."Grunting, the brawny, black-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Yah-huh."You say to the brawny, black-haired man, in sirihish:
"Don't ever say the words "drov" or "five" or...never again."The brawny, black-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Or... beetle."Nodding meakly, you say to the brawny, black-haired man, in sirihish:
"Beetle. Don't say beetle."Muttering, you ask, in sirihish:
"Shit..how're we going to redeem ourselves?"The brawny, black-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Uh... not fuck up again... 'n... uh...... shit.... I jus' wanna sleep."Falling asleep on the ground where he lays, you say, in sirihish:
"Beetles...whippings...I've had enough..."--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
And that concludes our story, kids. Hope you enjoyed it. We certainly did. ;)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------*****From the perspective of the splotched, mauve-tousled man******
You pass beneath the shadow of the black dragon.
Inside the Main Gate [NESW]
The main gate of the city-state of Allanak towers high here, its
twin obsidian towers separating the life-threatening perils of the
desert from the...
Continue Reading...Mercenaries by FiveDisgruntledMonkeysWit
Added on May 1, 2007When is a mercenary not a mercenary? When he works for Kurac, apparently.
A young man in dire need of food and 'sid makes his way to Luir's Outpost, following rumors of military work to be had with House Kurac. Unfortunately, he's not the brightest fellow...
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish, watching you:
"So yer name's Rilath. What brings ya ta lookin fer work here wit Kurac?"
>Feeling glum, you think:
"Desperation."
>At your table, you say in sirihish, with a shrug:
"I've been in a bad way recently, needing work. And I heard you were hiring. Simple as that."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish, taking a deep breath:
"Well. Workin fer Kurac ain't just some job. We dont hire hunters, we don't hire mercs."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish:
"We hire soldiers fer th'army what's called th'Fist."
>At your table, you say in sirihish, lifting a brow:
"You don't hire mercenaries? Most everyone's been telling me you do..."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish, shaking her head:
"Most everyone been tellin ya wrong."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish:
"Merc is a rank in our units."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish:
"Mercenary is what ya kin be, after yer promoted from bein a Recruit."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish:
"But it ain't like a Byn merc, cause yer expected ta still do yer chores, and be available while yer on contract wit us."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish:
"Also when yer a Kuraci Mercenary yer allowed ta ride on yer own on yer days off."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish, to you, sternly:
"But while yer a recruit, that's yer first two months. And durin that gime, ya ain't allowed ta leave th'Post without a officer takin ya."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish:
"Except ta git t'the
>At your table, you say in sirihish, blinking:
"So what makes the mercenaries not mercenaries?"
>At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish, watching your expression as she continues:
"Cause a mercenary's a sellsword, who takes contracts fer jobs from outsiders who pay'em ta do whatver th'sids pay fer."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish:
"A Kuraci Mercenary don't take outside jobs. They work fer Kurac, and Kurac don't take outside jobs. We work fer th'House."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish:
"Military Operations pays us, not some noble or templar or grebber lookin fer escort."
>At your table, you say in sirihish:
"Can Kurac mercenaries ever leave Kurac?"
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish, inclining her head:
"Sure, long as they git permission. We've had a couple do that. Ya kin also be a merc short-term, and come back if ya left on good accountin wit us."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish:
"Merc's just a halfway mark ta movin up in th'ranks though, yer still just a tick away from bein a grebber if yer a Merc wit us."
>You think:
"Krath, this woman's an idiot."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish, to you:
"If it turns out yer doin good, showin innerest, helpin out, stayin busy, not bein a pest, we offer ya a life-oath ta promote ta Regular."
>You think:
"What makes a Kuraci mercenary not a mercenary? Sounds like a feckin' mercenary to me..."
>At your table, you say in sirihish, scratching his cheek:
"Okay, I think I'm starting to understand."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish, glancing at you:
"How's that sound so far? Ah'm more innerested in how ya feel about bein stuck in th'Post fer two months, cept when a officer takes ya out fer field trainin or patrol."
>At your table, you say in sirihish, tapping the table a few times:
"In order to merc for Kurac, you first have to go through a training period. Then you're a mercenary."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish:
"If it don't suit ya, or ya think ya kin't handle that, we kin end th'innerview and yer welcome ta hang out, do business, trade, buy yerself some firebreather, that kinda shit."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish:
"If ya pass th'trainin period, yeah."
>At your table, you say in sirihish, chuckling and shaking his head:
"You seem to be saying that a Kuraci mercenary is somehow not a mercenary... but, ah, alright, I'm not arguing with you on that..."
>At your table, you say in sirihish, scratching his brow:
"Fact of the matter is, I spent my last 'sid getting down here. I need work."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish, chuckling back at you:
"It ain't. Th'Byn, they're a Mercenary outfit. They take jobs from whoever pays'em ta do a job. Escort duty, helpin this or that Templar do this or that thing.."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish:
"And whoever they're escortin, or the templar, they're th'ones what pay the Byn unit."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish:
"When yer a Mercenary fer th'Kuraci Fist, yer not gonna be takin jobs fer people what ain't wit Kurac."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish:
"We escort Kuracis. We do this or that or the other thing fer Kuracis. And we git paid salary, plus bonuses, from Kurac. Not from no one else."
>At your table, you say in sirihish, leaning forward:
"I know, but... listen. If a merc takes a job with, say, Salaar, then he's working with Salaar -for the time being-."
>At your table, you say in sirihish:
"Isn't it the same way with Kurac?"
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish, shrugging:
"Ah din't know Salarr hired mercs."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish:
"But If they do, they don't spend two months trainin'em. The merc works fer hisself."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish:
"If yer a Merc wit Kurac, ya ain't workin fer yerself. Yer employed by Kurac."
>At your table, you say in sirihish, scratching his head:
"Yeah... and a merc who takes a job with the Templarate is working for the Templarate. And a merc who takes a job with Nenyuk is working for Nenyuk."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish:
"And ya kin't just ride off any time ya like, go wherever ya like, do whatever ya like, and not worry about gittin yer pay from us."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish:
"Ya gotta do afternoon chores, ya gotta come on patrol when we're goin on patrol, gotta run escort wit us, and ya don't leave th'Post if ya ain't got a day off on th'schedule."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish:
"Ya still stick wit th'schedule, and yer days off are th'days off we tell ya they is."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish, grumbling:
"Ya know, ya ain't answered ma first question, and yer hemmin and hawin over a fuckin word."
>At your table, you say in sirihish, some amusement creeping over his features:
"I'm just trying to figure out what makes Kurac mercs so special."
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish:
"Ah'm thinkin..if ya kin't figger it out, maybe ya ain't right fer us. Look fer one o'the Salarris, see if they're innerested in hirin a independant. We ain't."
>
The slender, crooked-nosed woman stands up from a small table near the stairs.
>
The slender, crooked-nosed woman grumbles and moves back to a long, carved wooden bar, shaking her head.
>
The slender, crooked-nosed woman sits at a long, carved wooden bar.
>You think:
"Ah... feck..."
A young man in dire need of food and 'sid makes his way to Luir's Outpost, following rumors of military work to be had with House Kurac. Unfortunately, he's not the brightest fellow...
>
At your table, the slender, crooked-nosed woman says in sirihish, watching you:
"So yer name's...
Continue Reading...The Criminal, part VI: "Kill me, or let me go." by Ghost
Added on Mar 23, 2007Staying in a foreign city started to show its unpleasant face. Sophie could not get to talk to anyone. Nor did Serpent have much of a control over his organisation in the Labyrinth. Returning and starting everything again, started to show its sweet face. And after about a month of time, Serpent decided it was time to take the risk and return.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Submitter's note:
Staying in a foreign city started to show its unpleasant face. Sophie could not get to talk to anyone. Nor did Serpent have much of a control over his organisation in the Labyrinth. Returning and starting everything again, started to show its sweet face. And after about a month of time, Serpent decided it was time to take the risk and return.
P.S: I have edited the log many times, deleting some passages of conversations, mindtalks, and some emotes and I have also replaced some names/actions as **censored** to avoid passing some information that better kept as it is. I hope you find it a good read.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Sun King's Sanctuary [NESWUD]
A polished, white marble floor covers the ground of this expansive
room, gleaming under the light of a large glass chandelier that hangs
overhead. A semi-circular bar, made of hard-grained wood painted a deep
black, extends from the eastern wall, several high-backed barstools sitting
around it. The walls of this room are brightly decorated, with several
elaborate paintings placed carefully for unobstructed view, and shelves
holding many exotic potted plants, blooming with bright red and white
flowers. Two large stained-glass windows, decorated with elaborate sun
symbols, adorn the northwest and southeast corners of the room.
Several decoratively carved tables fill this room, while a polished
leather couch nearly ten cords in length sprawls along the northern wall. A
stately spiral staircase sits in the center of the room, winding upwards
toward the common rooms of the second floor. The sounds of laughter and
music can be heard from a doorway along the western wall, while the scents
of cooked meat waft in from the east. A small, straight stairway sits along
the northern wall, ending at a slightly raised loft and a large carven
baobab door sits in the southern wall, leading out onto the North Road
outside.
The Tuluk bulletin board is here propped up on a stand.
The tiny, copper-skinned, auburn-haired woman moves easily from table to table.
The svelte, loreshi-tressed woman is standing here.
The short figure in a black, moonstone-buttoned cloak is standing here.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier is standing here.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is sitting at a highly polished table.
A human Tuluki soldier is here, patrolling.
The auburn, charm-tasseled man is sitting at a black-painted bar.
The sharp-featured human soldier flanks the silver-haired templar.
The spare, silvery-blonde templar is sitting at a highly polished table.
The umber-skinned, azure-eyed man stands here attentively.
The prodigious, purple-skinned half-giant soldier looms on duty here.
The short haired, heavy-set man stands here mug in-hand.
The tall, well-groomed man sits here on a plush couch.
The gaunt, black-haired man is here, leaning on the bar.
The long-haired, middle-aged man stands behind the counter.
Passing a highly polished table, the svelte, loreshi-tressed woman inclines her head to the table's
occupants and smilesa.
<95/95 114/124 101/101 - walking >listen on
You are already listening.
Noticing a crowd of soldiers around a highly polished table, the short figure in a black,
moonstone-buttoned cloak inclines her head deeply, then continues toward a black-painted bar.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the sleek, honey-eyed young woman with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the sleek, honey-eyed young woman:
"Getting ready for the trip?"
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman sends you a telepathic message:
"I am, and I see you. Silence and I are getting along well."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Dawn?"
You ask the sleek, honey-eyed young woman, in sirihish:
"You think I should call our escort for the trip or should it wait?"
You say to the sleek, honey-eyed young woman, in sirihish:
"Hmm.. daybreak is a good timing indeed."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the sinewy, bald-headed man with the Way.
Nodding lightly as she shifts on a saffron-colored kank, the sleek, honey-eyed young woman asks
you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Have anything you need me to gather in preparation?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the sinewy, bald-headed man:
"Good day Kot. You think we can set for the trip at tomorrow daybreak?"
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The sinewy, bald-headed man sends you a telepathic message:
"Should be an easy trip, then. Bring water and food."
Her torso wrapped in a linen sling holding a blond-haired baby, the sleek, honey-eyed young woman
steps to a small white stone bench.
Leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek, the sleek, honey-eyed young woman whispers to you in
sirihish:
"I'm going to go get everything from the apartment, love."
Slipping an arm around your shoulders, the sleek, honey-eyed young woman whispers to you in
sirihish:
"Mmm, I bought some rations, I'll cook with the rest of the supplies we have. I'll be changing
clothes, as well."
Before releasing her grip on you, the sleek, honey-eyed young woman squeezes your shoudler with her
arm.
Bobbing his head, you say to the sleek, honey-eyed young woman, in
sirihish:
"Alright. Sounds good."
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman walks south.
You think:
"Wonder how it will be like to be in Allanak again."
It is dusk on Dzeda, the 42nd day of the Ascending Sun,
In the Year of King's Defiance, year 19 of the 21st Age.
You think:
"Nearly the day is going down. Little time till the dawn."
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman has arrived from the south.
Wiping sweat from her brow, the sleek, honey-eyed young woman sighs as she lower sonto a small
white stone bench.
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman sits on a small white stone bench.
At your seat, the sleek, honey-eyed young woman says in southern-accented sirihish, settling her
sizeable leather backpack in her lap:
"This is heavy."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the robust, crimson-eyed man:
"I will most probably make my trip to south this week, Faithful Lord. Just wanted to say it."
You dissolve the psychic link.
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Evening."
At your seat, the obsidian-skinned woman says in southern-accented sirihish, nodding slowly:
"Evening."
At your seat, the obsidian-skinned woman says in southern-accented sirihish, shaking her head:
"There is something going on around here..."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"What is it?"
At your seat, the obsidian-skinned woman says in southern-accented sirihish:
"I don't know... bugs disappearing..."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, blinking in surprise:
"What?"
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman has arrived from the north.
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman sits on a small white stone bench, settling next to you.
At your seat, the obsidian-skinned woman says in southern-accented sirihish, shaking her head:
"I think I just need a bit of rest."
At your seat, the sleek, honey-eyed young woman says in southern-accented sirihish, dipping her
head to the obsidian-skinned woman:
"Hello, Ferris."
At your seat, the obsidian-skinned woman says in southern-accented sirihish, to the sleek,
honey-eyed young woman:
"Evening, Sophie."
At your seat, the sleek, honey-eyed young woman says in southern-accented sirihish, tilting her
head at the obsidian-skinned woman:
"What's the matter?"
At your seat, the obsidian-skinned woman says in southern-accented sirihish, surveying the area:
"I've been seeing things.... then they'd disappear."
At your seat, the sleek, honey-eyed young woman says in southern-accented sirihish, her brows
lifting a bit:
"What.. kind of things?"
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"You took spice or something?"
The obsidian-skinned woman shakes her head.
Giving an irritated grunt, the sleek, honey-eyed young woman squeezes her eyes shut.
At your seat, the sleek, honey-eyed young woman says in southern-accented sirihish, lifting a
hand to touch her head:
"Been awhile since I've felt that."
At your seat, the obsidian-skinned woman says in southern-accented sirihish, shaking her head:
"The tempalars kicked me out of the tavern, because it happened. They were going to do it
anyway."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, quietly:
"A little more quiet on that."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"Remember.. We are all foreigners here."
At your seat, the sleek, honey-eyed young woman says in southern-accented sirihish, squinting an
eye open:
"What did you see, Ferris?"
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman is gone just a second..
The sinewy, bald-headed man sends you a telepathic message:
"I'll be hanging around the stables, whenever you three are ready to leave."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the sinewy, bald-headed man:
"Waying someone.. We will be there once we are finished."
You dissolve the psychic link.
At your seat, the obsidian-skinned woman says in southern-accented sirihish, looking around:
"I saw bugs crawl up my leg... They were there for a second... The next... They were gone."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar has arrived from the west.
The spare, silvery-blonde templar has arrived from the west.
The prodigious, purple-skinned half-giant soldier has arrived from the west.
The umber-skinned, azure-eyed man has arrived from the west.
The sharp-featured human soldier has arrived from the west.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the west.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the west.
The spare, silvery-blonde templar glances to the robust, crimson-eyed templar.
Slowly walking along the crowd, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to the spare, silvery-blonde
templar, in an unfamiliar tongue:
"Irhihirkojt."
Tilting her head to one side as she answers, the spare, silvery-blonde templar says to the robust,
crimson-eyed templar, in northern-accented sirihish:
"His Radiance guides us always."
The male wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap glances at the approaching crowd, rising from his seat to incline his head, before reseating back on a small white stone bench.
The well-shaped, slash-marked man has arrived from the north.
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman inclines her head respectfully as she catches sight of the spare,
silvery-blonde templar and the robust, crimson-eyed templar.
The obsidian-skinned woman shakes her head and pulls her pair of elegant red silk shoes with heels
off the ground and onto a small white stone bench.
The well-shaped, slash-marked man nods his head gently toward the spare, silvery-blonde templar as
he passes by.
Turning to a small white stone bench, the spare, silvery-blonde templar asks you, in
northern-accented sirihish:
"Good day. Tell me, out of curiosity...how long have you been seated here?"
Dipping his head once, going on walking along dark road slowly, the robust, crimson-eyed templar
says to the spare, silvery-blonde templar, in an unfamiliar tongue:
"Ar ufpyyo."
The well-shaped, slash-marked man shifts his gazes to the robust, crimson-eyed templar and drops a
gentle nod in that direction.
Blinking a few times behind the silken fabric of his facewrap, you say to the spare, silvery-blonde templar, in sirihish:
"Probably..six hours or so"
Stopping near a small white stone bench, the robust, crimson-eyed templar glances between the
spare, silvery-blonde templar and you.
The well-shaped, slash-marked man has arrived from the west.
Her brow knitted as she turns, the spare, silvery-blonde templar says to the robust, crimson-eyed
templar, in an unfamiliar tongue:
"I ihqydeptoo kise jarg atipe iojuyqojp pa jy."
Offering a firm nod, the robust, crimson-eyed templar asks the spare, silvery-blonde templar, in an
unfamiliar tongue:
"Se jqy shoaioj iujuuog imjeaktup?"
You whisper to the sleek, honey-eyed young woman in sirihish:
"Are you ready? Kot is waiting."
The auburn, charm-tasseled man has arrived from the north.
The auburn, charm-tasseled man walks south.
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman nods gently to you, rising from a small white stone bench.
Hefting under the weight of your sizeable leather backpack, you stand up from a small white stone bench.
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman stands up from a small white stone bench.
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman falls in behind you.
Pausing to glance at the obsidian-skinned woman briefly, the spare, silvery-blonde templar says to
the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in an unfamiliar tongue:
"Nu. Swu ej roeyn. Toy Sewr Mogezups kek pnaieh."
Lifting a hand, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"A moment Serpent."
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman lifts a hand, waving to the obsidian-skinned woman as she remains
by your side.
Softly, holding up a hand, the spare, silvery-blonde templar says to the sleek, honey-eyed young
woman, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Hold."
Lowering your sizeable leather backpack to the ground, breathing heavily, the male wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap bobs his head.
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman dips her head in respect to the spare, silvery-blonde templar,
her gaze lowered reverently toward the ground.
The enormous sun rises above the barren plains in the east.
The obsidian-skinned woman says to the well-shaped, slash-marked man, in southern-accented
sirihish:
"Cadet, if you'd like, I could make it fall to pieces when your trying to bring down those
tembo."
The male wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap lifts an eyebrow, glancing between the spare, silvery-blonde templar and the robust, crimson-eyed templar.
Quitely, the well-shaped, slash-marked man asks the obsidian-skinned woman, in northern-accented
sirihish:
"Shh.. Respect to the Faithfuls'. Dont raise your voice... And what Tembo??"
The robust, crimson-eyed templar strides towards the sleek, honey-eyed young woman, after a glance
to the spare, silvery-blonde templar.
The obsidian-skinned woman glances down the length of a small white stone bench towards the robust,
crimson-eyed templar. After a moment, she settles her back on the well-shaped, slash-marked man.
The male wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap gaze follow the robust, crimson-eyed templar as he progresses to the sleek, honey-eyed young woman, stepping closer to her.
The spare, silvery-blonde templar nods solemnly to the robust, crimson-eyed templar.
With a booming voice, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to the sleek, honey-eyed young woman,
in northern-accented sirihish:
"Come with me Sophie."
Jumping to her feet, the obsidian-skinned woman stands up from a small white stone bench.
Glancing to you, grunting, the robust, crimson-eyed templar exclaims to the sleek, honey-eyed young
woman, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Alone!"
The obsidian-skinned woman beckons towards the well-shaped, slash-marked man.
Furrowing his brows, hesitation in his tone, you ask the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"What is happening Faithful Lord? Maybe I can be of help?"
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
Reaching up to unfasten the linen sling holding the small, blond-haired baby, the sleek, honey-eyed
young woman asks the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in southern-accented sirihish:
"May I give the baby to Serpent, Faithful Lord?"
Quietly, the spare, silvery-blonde templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"This is none of your concern, Serpent. Take the child and leave the Faithful to their
business."
The robust, crimson-eyed man sends you a telepathic message:
"*with dark mist*Not this time Serpent, Not this time."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
Quitely, the well-shaped, slash-marked man says to the obsidian-skinned woman, in northern-accented
sirihish:
"I will be waiting you in Garrison'.. Come with meh now if you want."
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman carefully removes the baby from the linen that hugs her torso and
extends it to you, her features bearing no expression.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar stands near the sleek, honey-eyed young woman rigidly, as baby
changes hands from the sleek, honey-eyed young woman to you.
Her tone quiet as she steps to his side, the sleek, honey-eyed young woman says to the robust,
crimson-eyed templar, in southern-accented sirihish:
"I am ready, Faithful Lord."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar offers a firm nod to the sleek, honey-eyed young woman, motioning
the one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier to stand behind.
His hands shaking, his chest heaving up and down, you say, in sirihish:
"What is going on? We are just leaving.."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar slowly walks along stone road, his reddish gaze set on the sleek,
honey-eyed young woman.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks south.
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman walks south.
The spare, silvery-blonde templar walks south.
The prodigious, purple-skinned half-giant soldier walks south.
The umber-skinned, azure-eyed man walks south.
The sharp-featured human soldier walks south.
A human Tuluki soldier walks south.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier walks south.
The slender, russet-haired man has arrived from the north.
With her arms folded, the obsidian-skinned woman says, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Let us not think about it right now..."
You think:
"What?!"
The delicate, young brunette snickers quietly to herself before walking away.
To you, the obsidian-skinned woman asks, in southern-accented sirihish:
"This is yours, serpent?"
The delicate, young brunette walks west.
The obsidian-skinned woman places her sizeable leather backpack on a small white stone bench.
His hands shaking as he holds the tiny baby in his arms, the male
wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap bobs his head, gaze following southwards.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the robust, crimson-eyed man with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the robust, crimson-eyed man:
"What is happening Faithful Lord?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the spare, silvery-blonde woman with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the spare, silvery-blonde woman:
"What is happening Faithful Lady? Why did you take Sophie?"
You dissolve the psychic link.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the sleek, honey-eyed young woman with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the sleek, honey-eyed young woman:
"Where are they taking you to?"
You dissolve the psychic link.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman sends you a telepathic message:
"I don't know, Love. If you don't see me again, know I love you and tell Sen all about me."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the sleek, honey-eyed young woman with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the sleek, honey-eyed young woman:
"No! If I don't see you again, I am no more too!"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the sinewy, bald-headed man with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the sinewy, bald-headed man:
"Troubles. The trip has to be delayed.. At least one day."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
You slow down and start moving carefully.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The spare, silvery-blonde woman sends you a telepathic message:
"It is unfortunate, good Serpent. But, this woman has deceived you and acted as a spy for the
Black City during her stay here in the Ivory."
You think:
"NO!"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the spare, silvery-blonde woman with the Way.
The spare, silvery-blonde woman sends you a telepathic message:
"It is not even a question. There is absolute proof. But, because she is your mate, if you
wish to come to the Heart and discuss, we will extend you that option."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the spare, silvery-blonde woman:
"I am on my way."
The spare, silvery-blonde woman sends you a telepathic message:
"My Brother and I will meet you at the Gate. Do not come bearing arms. We wish you no ill."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Worried, Serpent ran the familiar way to the Heart. Within minutes, he was there before the giant gates.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the spare, silvery-blonde woman:
"She can't be! She does not know anyone here. She has no access to any information. What
proof is it?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the spare, silvery-blonde woman:
"I am at the gates, Faithful Lady."
You dissolve the psychic link.
The male wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap pats on the small
baby in his arms, knitting his brows.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the spare, silvery-blonde woman:
"I am at the gates of the Heart."
You dissolve the psychic link.
The tall, greying-haired Tuluki soldier opens the gate from the other side.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar has arrived from the north.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the north.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the north.
The tall, greying-haired Tuluki soldier closes the gate from the other side.
Motioning you to follow with a vague wave of his hand, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to
you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Come Serpent, we need to talk."
The young, wavy-haired female soldier opens the gate.
The young, wavy-haired female soldier steps aside, allowing the robust, crimson-eyed templar to
pass.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks north.
You follow the robust, crimson-eyed templar, and walk north.
The Bahamet's Maw Tavern - Main Room [ESU]
Half a dozen tables are scattered throughout this diminutive tavern.
Despite the lack of lavish decor, the bar exudes a feeling of being anything
but paltry. The walls are coated in a layer of vivid tan paint, and
occasionally a framed painting hangs from their glossy surfaces. The
floorstones below are simple squares of red sandstone, haphazardly inlayed
into the level ground. Just above the elongated bar on the northern wall
hangs a luxurious tapestry, the tedious embroidery of a fiery sunburst
stitched onto a white background.
The cramped entrance to the east leads out to a road, while the room
snakes away to the south. A polished baobab staircase is affixed to one end
of the bar to carry patrons to an upper level dormitory.
A wooden-paneled painting sits supported by a miniature bone tripod.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
The plump, reddish-hued templar is standing here.
A stocky, bald-headed bartender stands upright behind the glazed bar.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the east.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the east.
Gesturing a highly polished table with a lift of his single-tasseled, bladed staff, the robust,
crimson-eyed templar asks you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Sit down. Want anything?"
The robust, crimson-eyed templar opens a Jihae-embossed toolbelt.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar gets a pile of allanaki coins from a Jihae-embossed toolbelt.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks towards counter in front of the stocky, bald-headed
bartender.
Putting some coins on counter, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to the stocky, bald-headed
bartender, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Prepare me some bowls of stew and a pint of ale."
His tone quiet, holding the small baby in one arm, you say to the
robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I just want to get Sophie out of here. Nothing else."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
After a glance to baby in your arm, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in
northern-accented sirihish:
"Sit down, babies feel the fear much easier then us."
The stocky, bald-headed bartender trades a bowl of carru-meat stew to the robust, crimson-eyed
templar.
The stocky, bald-headed bartender trades a bowl of carru-meat stew to the robust, crimson-eyed
templar.
The stocky, bald-headed bartender trades a bowl of carru-meat stew to the robust, crimson-eyed
templar.
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
Furrowing his brows, you ask the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in
sirihish:
"Faithful Lady coming?"
You sit at a highly polished table.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar strides towards a highly polished table putting his reddish clay
pint in front of you.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, pushing empty
bowl aside, reaching a full one:
"Do you know what Sophie was doing while she is with you?"
At your table, you say in sirihish, placing your reddish clay pint on a highly polished table:
"Thank you. But I don't need a drink."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"I know. Taking care of the child, preparing food. Nothing else."
You stop using a grey shaded, black face-wrap.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, pushing another
empty bowl, reaching a full bowl:
"You miss a small thing what she was doing."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"I don't think I do. But say it, what is it?"
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, lifting a
ceramic spoon:
"She was using you for protection and spying for Borsail."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"She was -running- away from Borsail. How can she be spying for them?"
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"You are just mistaken.. Borsail wants her dead and you are just doing what they want."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, softly, his
gaze set on you:
"His Faithfuls hear everything including conversations with the Way. You know that very well,
don't you."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"I do. But I am guessing, Borsail is playing a trick here. It must be that way."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, exhaling
softly:
"She was spying for House Borsail during her stay in the Ivory."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"She does not know anyone, is not friend to anyone here. Has no connection, has no access to
any information."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, dipping his
spoon into bowl:
"Tell me Serpent, how can you explain the messages Sophie send via the Way to House Borsail?"
The robust, crimson-eyed templar eats a portion of a bowl of carru-meat stew.
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"In her first day, she had a friend.. Miko, and someone else, that my mind is busy enough that
I can't make the name."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"I told her to cut her friendships as well."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"And she did it."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, his shoulders
raising into a shrug:
"No, actually a rotten Borsail she was information. "
The robust, crimson-eyed templar eats a small portion of a bowl of carru-meat stew.
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"A noble? Tell me his name is Veralius."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Not an aide, not another servant but a rotten Borsail."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, grunting:
"Actually, I just know that rotten blood was a Borsail Lady. Nothing more."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"She was Haadith's aide. I killed Haadith, and Borsail wanted to kill more of what is
Haadith's."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"Sent militia.. Templars on her."
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman sends you a telepathic message:
"She's taken me back to the Sanctuary, Serpent."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"I kidnapped her and we ran away."
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man blinks, furrowing his brows.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, bending forward
towards table:
"Then maybe she was trying to secure her position in the Black City."
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man reaches to his temple, grunting.
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"Can't be. She is still being sought, I am about to just threaten or maybe even kill Veralius
because of this."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"And you are giving them what they want"
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"Now.. She is back in the sanctuary. Why is Faithful Lady not here?"
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, firmly:
"Most Honorful Mistress gave her word, she was in contact with a rotten blood and spying on
the Ivory!"
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Serpent! Hold yourself and think! You do that well.. Very well!"
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"I am thinking, and the more I think, the more you are just doing what Borsail wants. We were
on our way.."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Think what Sophie was doing with you using -your- baby. She was just protecting herself,
nothing else."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Mistress gave her word! Sophie was a spy in contact with rotten Borsail."
At your table, you say in sirihish, wetting his lips, patting the small baby in his arms:
"Now.. I think it is my turn after her, is not it?"
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, after a while
looking at you, wetting his lips before going on:
"Serpent or whatever you call yourself. You are seated with me at a table, and I am trying to
show the true face of Sophie who used your maybe single weakness."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"She saw you want a family, and she gave it to you. Nothing else.. In return she got power and
a lot of coins.. Isn't it?"
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"No."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, grunting:
"Then what? She was using you, and you ignore it."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"The baby.. The family.. All came out of the blue."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the spare, silvery-blonde woman with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the spare, silvery-blonde woman:
"Let us go..Faithful Lady.."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the spare, silvery-blonde woman:
"I will do anything.. For it."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the spare, silvery-blonde woman:
"Just let us go."
You dissolve the psychic link.
The sleek, honey-eyed young woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Go! Take Sen! Raise our son! I'm condemned to death! I love you, Serpent!"
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man bites his lower lip, his hand clenching into a fist.
You think:
"They killed Sophie.."
You think:
"Now is my turn.."
You think:
"So long.. it has been."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"She gave you what you wanted, and expected power and coins in return."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, glancing down
to your hand then baby in your arm:
"Seems she succeeded."
At your table, you say in sirihish, pressing his lips together,
his voice trembling:
"Until she was arrested by Sarador, she got nothing.. asked nothing of me."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"And even then.. She did not ask. But I did."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, grunting:
"She was using you as a cover while she is spying for the Borsail.."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"Alright.. Now.. Let's think about it. What does Borsail give her in return, while she is a
foreingner here?"
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"Who does she have as a friend when she is here?"
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"What kind of a spying is it? No payment? No access?"
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, with a raise of
his broad shoulders:
"Probably Borsail offered to make her stay in the Black City safe. As you said she can not
walk in the Black City safetly, unless she does jobs for the Borsail and the cursed templarate."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"Borsail did? Well.. They did not do it hard enough then, since.. I was still planning to
kill one of their numbers because of it."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, rubbing his
eyes as he speaks in a quiet tune:
"In any case, Sophie was spying for the Borsail with the unspoken way while she was living in
the Ivory under my protection. "
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, lifting his
head, with a tired voice:
"Are you speaking with Sophie with the Way right now?"
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"No."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, his reddish
gaze set on you:
"You know what is inevitable, don't you."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
At your table, you say in sirihish, pursing his lips:
"I can see what is going to happen to me as well."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, tilting his
head to a side:
"What will happen to you?"
The short, scar-faced man sends you a telepathic message:
"Hey, Chief! You arrived Nak?"
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the short, scar-faced man:
"I am going to die.. So.. Enjoy your time with the crew."
You dissolve the psychic link.
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man sighs tiredly, patting the tiny baby wordlessly.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The short, scar-faced man sends you a telepathic message:
"What does that mean, Serpent? I still need your assistance."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, glancing down
to baby in your arm:
"Must be interesting that feeling. Watching it slowly growing up."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the short, scar-faced man with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the short, scar-faced man:
"Well, it does not mean a lot does it? I am in Tuluk, templarate here want a little blood, and
I will give them that."
The short, scar-faced man sends you a telepathic message:
"Don't do anything insane, Boss. Try to convince them, bribe them.."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the short, scar-faced man:
"Leave it to me. You mind your own crew fuck it. Since when am I being lectured by my
underlings?"
You dissolve the psychic link.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, lifting his
gaze, staring at you:
"You will be with your child while he is growing up, don't you want that?"
At your table, you say in sirihish, scratching his neck:
"Well I wanted some more things but I guess it does not matter much what I want, does it?"
The short, scar-faced man sends you a telepathic message:
"I'm sorry, Boss. I said that, because I care about you. I'm sure, other bosses care about you
too."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the short, scar-faced man with the Way.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Actually it really matters. When our conversation is over, I wonder what you will do first?"
At your table, you say in sirihish, pursing his lips:
"Well.. I wonder that as well."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the short, scar-faced man:
"Oh don't go emotional, or I will kick your ass. Go Effen and say that his mugs were all
fucked up.. Well.. Most of them. And mind your own business."
You dissolve the psychic link.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Leave the Ivory..? or... Find someone decent to take of the child.. or maybe risk your and
that baby's life unneccesarily? "
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Why don't you let me personally take care of your bady?"
The short, scar-faced man sends you a telepathic message:
"I -will- be emotional. Come down here and kick my ass for it."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Until grows up to age three or four.. or anytime you want. He will taken care as good as
younglings from Great Houses of the Ivory."
The short, scar-faced man sends you a telepathic message:
"Why don't you come here and tell that to him yourself? I don't think Effen likes me more than
a bug on his bar."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"If there is any need of it, well.. It can work."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"You are his father, you will decide if there is a need or not."
You think:
"Oh..fuck.. Go mind your own business damn it!"
The short, scar-faced man sends you a telepathic message:
"Tell me, who's gonna kill you, Chief."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the short, scar-faced man with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the short, scar-faced man:
"Did not I tell you to mind your own business? Piss off."
You dissolve the psychic link.
The short, scar-faced man sends you a telepathic message:
"If that's what your order is. I wish you can get through it too, and come here to kick my
ass."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man stares blankly at your sizeable leather backpack.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"Well, actually I visit younglings almost every week once. There are two children of Tamara
and Garrity who are growing up quickly. "
You think:
"Tamara..Tikuri's sister.."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, softly:
"Eh, if you leave your child, I can be sure he is in good hands as well."
You think:
"Oh.. Everything seems so difficult now."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man's face looks paler for a moment, exhaling a soft sigh.
The sinewy, bald-headed man sends you a telepathic message:
"Feel like making that trip soon?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the sinewy, bald-headed man with the Way.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, softly:
"Sophie is no more Serpent and you will continue your life. Like you did after Falka who has
fallen with a foul trick."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the sinewy, bald-headed man:
"Troubles. I am not sure. If you have other business, go about it."
The sinewy, bald-headed man sends you a telepathic message:
"Alright. I'll be around. Let me know."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"Foul trick?"
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, grunting:
"A kind of cursed magickal trick as I recall from reports."
At your table, you say in sirihish, softly:
"Is Faithful lady coming here?"
You dissolve the psychic link.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, with a shake of
his head:
"I guess she has returned to her studies. What did you wish to speak with Faithful Lady?"
You think:
"Maybe I should just try to kill her?"
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The sinewy, bald-headed man sends you a telepathic message:
"Don't usually make a point of getting involved in other folks business, but I just saw a
templar carrying Miss out the gate. Just figured you should know, if you didn't already."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, wetting his
lips before going on:
"Serpent?"
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man tilts his head, his dark eyes staring at the robust, crimson-eyed templar blankly.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, grunting:
"What is passing through your mind Serpent?"
At your table, you say in sirihish, knitting his brows thoughtfully:
"Lots of things.. and nothing."
You think:
"If only I could see her now."
You think:
"Everything would be easier."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, gazing the
polished surface of wooden table for a moment, then chuckling softly:
"Then, when will you tell me of your plans.. until that time, seems we will be seated on those
chairs. "
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"My plans? I don't have any plan."
The ruddy, purple-bearded man sends you a telepathic message:
"Ahh, Serpent. I don't think we've been formally introduced. I'm Lord Templar Mazlaen Fale,
of the War Ministry."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the ruddy, purple-bearded man with the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the ruddy, purple-bearded man:
"Well met then, Lord Templar."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"What do you mean you do not have any plan? You are leading a powerful group and you have a
child to grow, surely you must have plans."
At your table, you say in sirihish, softly:
"In better words, I had some plans. But they are ruined now at the moment."
The ruddy, purple-bearded man sends you a telepathic message:
"I offer my approval at the death of that **censored**. If anything else of note happens
in the Northlands, I'll have your underlings compensated for passing the information along."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar bobs his head absently a few times, his gaze standing at you.
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the ruddy, purple-bearded man:
"My pleasure, Lord Templar. I will see what I can do. And Scar, the one now taking care of
the crew will be in contact with you."
You dissolve the psychic link.
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, steadying his
posture:
"Do you need time for making new plans Serpent?"
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"Seems like it."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"What About your child?"
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"He will share my fate."
You think:
"It is meaningless."
You think:
"I just want to kill... Just want to kill.."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, his gaze
falling down to polished surface of wooden table:
"And your possible fate is..?"
You think:
"Where is Eunoli when I need her?"
At your table, you say in sirihish, lifts his shoulders into an exhausted shrug:
"We will see."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"I don't know yet myself."
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, hitting the
table with his fist loudly with voice of cracking wood:
"WHAT FOOLISHNESS IS THIS?"
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish:
"YOU ARE A GOOD DAMM LEADER OF A GANG!"
At your table, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says in northern-accented sirihish, his voice
echoing through tavern:
"YOU TELL ME YOU ARE LOST OF YOUR MIND BECAUSE OF A WOMAN YOU KNOW FOR WHAT.. A COUPLE OF
YEARS!"
The robust, crimson-eyed templar staring at the plump, reddish-hued templar direction, exhaling
softly.
At your table, you say in sirihish, patting the baby in his arms, his tone soft:
"I think I know pretty much what I am, Faithful Lord. We don't need to go over that."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"But it is not often.."
Offering a firm nod, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to the plump, reddish-hued templar, in
northern-accented sirihish:
"I do apologize High Templar."
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"That my plans gets ruined. I am a little.. Surprised."
Motioning you to raise with a wave of his hand, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in
northern-accented sirihish:
"Come."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar stands up from a highly polished table.
You stand up from a highly polished table.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar strides along the crowded tavern with long steps.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks east.
You follow the robust, crimson-eyed templar, and walk east.
Way of Acquisition [NSW]
Smoothed chunks of fire-blackened stone make up the walkway of this
cobbled road. Just to the east, walls of sturdy wooden logs are nailed
together to form a steadfast barrier between the street and the massive
pyramid enclosed within. The road is rather minute in width, its
overshadowing western wall adding to its tiny appearance. Although the path
seems rather new, the surface of each of the durable stones is marred by the
imperfection of wheel marks and the occasional stain.
A break in the wall to the west reveals the awning-covered entryway to
a bustling tavern. Just above the leather-reinforced canvas awning, a
wooden carving hangs from the building to depict the visage of a beady-eyed
bahamet.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the west.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the west.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks south.
You follow the robust, crimson-eyed templar, and walk south.
Street of the Blazing Fist [NE]
Round-edged plates of red sandstone have been placed together to form
this road. An occasional slab bears the faint etching of a sunburst, though
they are otherwise undecorated. A pair of walls hamper movement in the two
cardinal directions, and the tip of a pyramidal object can be seen just over
the towering northern barrier. Scatterings of greyish grass sprout up from
between various pieces of the road below, struggling to survive amidst the
dusty surface.
Mirroring the corner of the pyramid, the road takes a jutting turn
from the east to the north here. The wall surrounding the pyramid seems
sunken at this point, allowing glimpses of the sleek grey marble structure.
A smooth statue of sculpted stone stands here upon a thin circle.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the north.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the north.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks east.
You follow the robust, crimson-eyed templar, and walk east.
Street of the Blazing Fist [EW]
Round-edged plates of red sandstone have been placed together to form
this road. An occasional slab bears the faint etching of a sunburst, though
they are otherwise undecorated. A pair of walls hamper movement in the two
cardinal directions, and the tip of a pyramidal object can be seen just over
the towering northern barrier. Scatterings of greyish grass sprout up from
between various pieces of the road below, struggling to survive amidst the
dusty surface.
Pink-mottled red fruit clings to the sides of a thorny vine that
creeps over the northern wall. The vine dangles precariously from atop the
wall, still clearing the ground by multiple cords.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the west.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the west.
Shrugging, you say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I won't need it anymore. Someone else can take the pack."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks east.
You follow the robust, crimson-eyed templar, and walk east.
Tembo Pass [NESW]
A pair of matching gates looms just to the north, their height
slightly dwarfed when compared to the ones above. A gate-tower remains
elevated in the air above this road, the patrolling of which can be heard
constantly through day or night. Lightly speckled grey plants lead
alongside the road to the east, while to the west the colors of the blossoms
are much more vivid and appear to be more taken care of.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
A tall, greying-haired Tuluki soldier stands here, guarding the southern gate.
A lean, tattooed Jihaen slave is here cleaning the streets.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the west.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the west.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks north.
You follow the robust, crimson-eyed templar, and walk north.
Chakal's Gateway [NS]
Brilliant banners hang from the eastern and western guardtowers,
stopping just short of a gargantuan wooden gateway. The pair of tapestries
depict scenes of battle, their detailed stitchwork capturing each crimson
droplet of blood as Tuluki soldiers massacre the southlands militia. Rows
of vibrantly-hued blossoms have been planted to lead up to the gate, over
which the glistening tip of a pyramid can be seen.
A scattering of wildflowers lies drifted through the grass.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
A stout, scruffy-haired male soldier blocks the northern gateway.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the south.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the south.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar gets a thornwood and leather keyring from a Jihae-embossed
toolbelt.
The prim, midnight-haired man sends you a telepathic message:
"So we never had that little chat a couple months ago, as we had planned..."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar slings a single-tasseled, bladed staff across his back.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar holds a thornwood and leather keyring.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar searches through a thornwood and leather keyring.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar unlocks the gate with a knob-ended baobab key.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar exclaims to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"I will do something for you!"
The stout, scruffy-haired male soldier steps aside, allowing the robust, crimson-eyed templar to
pass.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks north.
You follow the robust, crimson-eyed templar, and walk north.
Within Piory's Yard [NESW]
The saplings of purple and grey-barked trees are no match to the sheer
height of the marble pyramid that dominates this yard. Standing with an
enormous stature, the pyramid's greyish marble walls elegantly taper up to a
statue-tipped point. Scattered around the base of the pyramid are various
beds of lush blossoms, their colors appearing vibrantly-hued in contrast
with the dreary building. Just near the wooden gateway to the pyramid, a
lush strip of rosebushes sprawl towards the door.
A gigantic, grey-marble pyramid overshadows the rest of the yard.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
A bulging, wide-lipped man sits toying with some needles.
A Jihaen slave stands here, caring for the plants.
The braided, hook-nosed templar is standing here.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the south.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the south.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar closes the gate.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the prim, midnight-haired man with the Way.
Firmly, the robust, crimson-eyed templar exclaims to a Jihaen slave, in northern-accented
sirihish:
"Come here!"
The robust, crimson-eyed templar asks a Jihaen slave for assistance, but he refuses.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the prim, midnight-haired man:
"Oh.. There is not any more need for it. As your target is dead already."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar dips his head once as a Jihaen slave approaches.
The prim, midnight-haired man sends you a telepathic message:
"...she is... *surprise*"
The burning sun rises high into the sky, searing the earth.
The red orb of Jihae, the red moon, begins to vanish as it slowly sets.
The prim, midnight-haired man sends you a telepathic message:
"When?"
Gesturing a Jihaen slave, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented
sirihish:
"Give your child to this slave, or you will ruin yourself without a sudden anger."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the prim, midnight-haired man:
"It does not matter much, I guess. But right.. I am as much surprised."
The prim, midnight-haired man sends you a telepathic message:
"It does matter, a great deal."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the prim, midnight-haired man:
"Time.. Does not matter I meant."
The prim, midnight-haired man sends you a telepathic message:
"The time does."
The prim, midnight-haired man sends you a telepathic message:
"When did it happen?"
Tilting his head, you ask the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in
sirihish:
"Why?"
The robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"You will always able to ask your child back, but I insist him to stay here at least a
month."
The use of the Way drains you.
Shaking his head, you say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"No. I don't want to part with anyone else at the moment. You can keep me along with the
child if you want."
You shrug.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"You seem to have nothing to lose right now. After years of effort, I can not even imagine how
you manage to dig a hole in the filth you born, you seem to lost everything within yourself."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the prim, midnight-haired man:
"Today.. Or was it yesterday? I am losing the track of time."
The prim, midnight-haired man sends you a telepathic message:
".....today.....by...who?"
Pointing baby with a slender finger, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in
northern-accented sirihish:
"That's a baby and needs attention, on the other hand you need time to think what you have
done so far. "
The short templar wearing a thin veil of white silk opens the gate from the other side.
The short templar wearing a thin veil of white silk has arrived from the south.
The umber-skinned, azure-eyed man has arrived from the south.
The sharp-featured human soldier has arrived from the south.
The short templar wearing a thin veil of white silk closes the gate.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks east.
You follow the robust, crimson-eyed templar, and walk east.
In a Small Corner of a Garden [NW]
Pymlithe saplings are planted in variegated rows along this tight
strip of the garden. Nearly all of the flora that thrives within the
surrounding area seems to be in the earliest stages of their growth. The
vividly-colored blossoms of the roses strewn about are on the brink of
spreading open, though each stem's jade hue stands out stiffly above the
flowerbed. A few rounded slabs of red sandstone create a path throughout
the underlying greb grass' dark violet cascade.
Just beneath the row of trees planted in the southeastern corner of
the garden lies a cozy wooden bench, its seat covered with a pair of linen
cushions.
A shadow falls over the area, driving off the uncomfortable heat.
A wylrith tree stubbornly flourishes, its leaves forming a shaded canopy above the ground.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
The short templar wearing a thin veil of white silk has arrived from the west.
The umber-skinned, azure-eyed man has arrived from the west.
The sharp-featured human soldier has arrived from the west.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the west.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the west.
The short templar wearing a thin veil of white silk walks west.
The umber-skinned, azure-eyed man walks west.
The sharp-featured human soldier walks west.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the prim, midnight-haired man:
"Tuluk.. Public execution."
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man glances westward sharply.
You dissolve the psychic link.
You think:
"Slipped.. Missed my chance."
You hear a woman's voice shout from the west in northern-accented sirihish:
"Sorry to disturb, Brother."
The prim, midnight-haired man sends you a telepathic message:
"....by the Hi- *his thoughts are cut off abruptly as the link snaps shut*"
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man's chest heaves up and down, a hand reaching to his temple.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The prim, midnight-haired man sends you a telepathic message:
"*guardedly* You and I need to have that chat."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar exclaims to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"High Templar Eunoli will not join us!"
The prim, midnight-haired man sends you a telepathic message:
"Send an emissary if you don't trust me after that stunt you pulled by smuggling her out of
Allanak."
Pursing his lips, exhaustion in his words, you say to the robust,
crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Can I go then? I have a long way to south."
With a shake of his head, firmly, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in
northern-accented sirihish:
"No, as I said I insist your baby to stay. You are not in good mood for taking care of this
baby. "
Softly, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Serpent, this is best for your child."
You say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"My organisation will take care of him."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar puts a thornwood and leather keyring inside a Jihae-embossed
toolbelt.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Serpent, let the baby stay."
The prim, midnight-haired man sends you a telepathic message:
"But this cannot be discussed over the Way."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
Grunting, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"At least let your baby to be taken care of in decent conditions."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
".. at least for a couple of months."
Shaking his head, you say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in
sirihish:
"My organisation takes care of many babies. And this one will be looked over specially."
You say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I will keep him."
The sun reaches its highest point in the sky.
The small, blond baby starts to wail in the pale-faced,
serpent-tattooed man's arms.
Softly, you say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Let us go."
Leaning aganist a thin, canopied wylrith tree, the robust, crimson-eyed templar asks you, in
northern-accented sirihish:
"You do understand me right?"
You say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I think I do."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar asks you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Do you understand your position in my eyes?"
You ask the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"What does it have to do with the baby?"
The robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"With that baby in under my protection, I will be sure you will not do anything with a sudden
anger of yours.. And I guess results of your anger could be .. very harmful."
Shaking his head, after a moment of thought, you say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"There is no way.. I am parting with him."
Stepping close to you, lifting his head to face, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in
northern-accented sirihish:
"Why don't you leave him with me. Surely he will spend a couple of better months then in a
place full of hunger, thievery and brutallity."
Lowering your leather waterskin from his lips, his tone calm, you
say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I take good care of what is mine. So long..."
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man presses his lips together,
shutting his mouth tightly.
His lips curling up slightly, the robust, crimson-eyed templar asks you, in northern-accented
sirihish:
"So if I insist to keep your baby, you wish to stay with him right?"
Without a word, the pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man stares at
the robust, crimson-eyed templar blankly.
His arms folded on his chest, the robust, crimson-eyed templar stares at you .
You think:
"I am getting tired."
In a calm tone, you ask the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in
sirihish:
"You are not letting me go?"
Softly, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"How damm important you are."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
Pursing his lips, you say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in
sirihish:
"Seriously, I am not sure. Depends on who is asking I guess."
The short, scar-faced man sends you a telepathic message:
"What's the deal you had with Juye, Boss?"
Scratching his hair under his red silk hood, slowly walking along the path in garden, the robust,
crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Well, for me at least."
Turning back for a moment, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented
sirihish:
"You are a smart person.. very smart I must say."
The short, scar-faced man sends you a telepathic message:
"I don't know if you're in the condition to reply me, but she told me that I need to ask you
about it."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the short, scar-faced man with the Way.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"On the other hand, I am not quite sure of how good you are controling your emotions."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the short, scar-faced man:
"There is a merchant to be killed. On the miner's road. The cloth seller. In one month, the
job should be done."
The short, scar-faced man sends you a telepathic message:
"How much is the bounty on their head?"
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
Kneeling near a flower bush, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented
sirihish:
"Seems that spy manage to seduce and .. control you to some degree."
The late, red sun descends toward the western horizon.
The pale orb of the white moon, Lirathu, vanishes as it slowly sets.
With an exasperated sigh, you say to the robust, crimson-eyed
templar, in sirihish:
"It is not doing any progress at all. I am really tired. Just do what you want to do
Faithful Lord. Or let me go."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Unless I am convienced you are going to dig the sour of that spy, I can not let you leave."
Grunting, the robust, crimson-eyed templar exclaims to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Look at yourself Serpent, you are not even caring of your life!"
The robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"You even know you may not leave this place alive, you still do not care about it."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"That's why I ask for the child. At least there will be something you care for."
You say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Truly, I have not thought much about my life for quite a long time. Longer than I know you,
I think."
Shaking his head, you say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in
sirihish:
"The child stays with me, and the only way to part with him is taking him off my dead
fingers."
Reaching long shaft of his single-tasseled, bladed staff, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to
you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Then make my decision easier if you do not care about your life a bit."
You think:
"If he reaches for the baby.."
You think:
"I will first kill my son.. Then kill him.."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar unslings a single-tasseled, bladed staff from his back.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar stops using a serrated, ivory longknife.
Offering his serrated, ivory longknife from its hilt, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you,
in northern-accented sirihish:
"If you do not want to live, take this and end you life. As you said, seems we are not making
an progress here."
Spreading his empty hand, his other arm holding the baby, you say
to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I want to go. That is what I said. And I will take the child with me. If you want to kill
me, or take the child, I am not going to try persuading you otherwise."
You say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"But I am not parting with the baby."
The hilt of his serrated, ivory longknife standing close to your, the robust, crimson-eyed templar
asks you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Serpent, will you continue doing your business?"
The robust, crimson-eyed templar asks you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Will you able to get your emotions out and continue you to make business with His
Faithfuls?"
The last rays of the red sun fade over the Grey Forest.
The scarlet face of Jihae rises, staring down from the sky.
With an exasperated sigh, you say to the robust, crimson-eyed
templar, in sirihish:
"I am.. really.. tired Faithful Lord. Can we discuss this later? Either let me go, or kill
me.. Or do something. But please end this for now."
Slowly sliding his serrated, ivory longknife to a sheath on his Jihae-embossed toolbelt, the
robust, crimson-eyed templar asks you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Are you, two leaving for the Black City?"
The robust, crimson-eyed templar walks west.
You follow the robust, crimson-eyed templar, and walk west.
Within Piory's Yard [NESW]
The saplings of purple and grey-barked trees are no match to the sheer
height of the marble pyramid that dominates this yard. Standing with an
enormous stature, the pyramid's greyish marble walls elegantly taper up to a
statue-tipped point. Scattered around the base of the pyramid are various
beds of lush blossoms, their colors appearing vibrantly-hued in contrast
with the dreary building. Just near the wooden gateway to the pyramid, a
lush strip of rosebushes sprawl towards the door.
A gigantic, grey-marble pyramid overshadows the rest of the yard.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar is standing here.
A bulging, wide-lipped man sits toying with some needles.
A Jihaen slave stands here, caring for the plants.
The braided, hook-nosed templar is standing here.
A human Tuluki soldier has arrived from the east.
The one-eyed half-giant Tuluki soldier has arrived from the east.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar slings a single-tasseled, bladed staff across his back.
Offering a firm nod, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to the braided, hook-nosed templar, in
northern-accented sirihish:
"High Templar."
Holding the baby in his arms securely, you say, in sirihish:
"Seems like it."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar gets a thornwood and leather keyring from a Jihae-embossed
toolbelt.
Reaching a key on his thornwood and leather keyring, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you,
in northern-accented sirihish:
"Leave this week."
The robust, crimson-eyed templar holds a thornwood and leather keyring.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar searches through a thornwood and leather keyring.
The robust, crimson-eyed templar unlocks the gate with a knob-ended baobab key.
Gesturing baby in your arm, the robust, crimson-eyed templar asks you, in northern-accented
sirihish:
"What is his name?"
You say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Sen Hiatus. Sophie put his name."
Stepping close to baby, his lips slightly curled up, the robust, crimson-eyed templar asks you, in
northern-accented sirihish:
"Sen Hiatus.. Does it have a meaning?"
The robust, crimson-eyed templar puts a thornwood and leather keyring inside a Jihae-embossed
toolbelt.
You say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Sen.. Was what people used to call me when I was a kid. And Hiatus means "disruption".
Well.. Because he was a disturbing one."
A faded smile touched on his lips, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in
northern-accented sirihish:
"Beatiful name. He is growning up close to weapons.. He will be tough."
Slowly walking towards large wooden gates, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in
northern-accented sirihish:
"I would hope he to speak smooth Sirihish though."
You send a telepathic message to the sinewy, bald-headed man:
"Two of us.. And the baby.. We should progress on the trip as soon as possible."
You say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"As smooth as mine."
You say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"Or more like a southsider.. I am not sure."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The sinewy, bald-headed man sends you a telepathic message:
"Sounds good. Where should we meet?"
Chuckling softly, raising his head from baby to you, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says, in
northern-accented sirihish:
"At least I can understand what you can, unlike other labyrinth born."
Softly, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Leave the Ivory this week, without leaving your weapons from your sheath."
You think:
"We will see."
You say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I will go to south. As soon."
Softly, the robust, crimson-eyed templar asks you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"Should I give you a soldier to assist you?"
Rubbing his pointed chin, the robust, crimson-eyed templar asks you, in northern-accented
sirihish:
"Can not you make this week Serpent?"
You say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"I can."
You say to the robust, crimson-eyed templar, in sirihish:
"And I will."
Softly, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"I would appreciate it."
You fasten a grey shaded, black face-wrap across your face.
Holding the tiny baby securely in his hands, the male wearing a
grey shaded, black face-wrap inclines his head to the robust, crimson-eyed templar.
Lifting his hand, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
"I bid you a safe travel."
His gaze passing to baby, the robust, crimson-eyed templar says, in northern-accented sirihish:
"And you as well Sen."
The male wearing a grey shaded, black face-wrap silently, slips through the darkened streets, disappearing into the crowds.
You slow down and start moving carefully.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
His thoughts weak, he just let his feet carry him. After a short while, Serpent met his guide to the south.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
His tone soft as a whisper, to the small blond baby in his arms,
you say, in sirihish:
"I will take care of you, Sen.. I will."
You think:
"I would just kill you.."
You think:
"Eunoli.."
You think:
"Or try at least."
You think:
"Fuck."
The sinewy, bald-headed man raises the hood of a dusty hooded, grey sandcloth windcloak.
The very short figure in a dusty hooded, grey sandcloth windcloak slips a hand within his cloak,
and rummages through his belt.
His tone calm, you ask the very short figure in a dusty hooded,
grey sandcloth windcloak, in sirihish:
"Do we have to wait for the daybreak?"
The very short figure in a dusty hooded, grey sandcloth windcloak says to you, in sirihish:
"Nope. Wouldn't recommend crossing the Red Desert at night, but that's a ways off."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
They made it to Allanak without an incident. They parted their ways and Serpent once more was home. He traveled the alleys he has lived in for so long, his son crying in his arms.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dead End [NE]
You are standing in the middle of a poverty-stricken alley, the
Highlord's chamberpot of human life. All about you, piled against
dilapidated stone buildings, are piles of garbage, excrement, and the
occasional corpse -- or perhaps that's simply a sleeping child -- that
gather here. The sky above, what is visible of its dome through the
blood-tinged air rank with foul scents, shines less brightly upon you, the
sun's rays blocked out by the tall cracked structures of crumbling red
stone, buildings which give this alley a claustrophobic feel, despite its
being quite wide.
This alleyway ends here. To the west the grey stone of the outer wall
of Allanak is visible above the piles of trash and debris piled up against
it. A narrow doorway is visible along the north row of buildings. The only
other visible exit leads eastwards.
Matron Verwolin's Orphanage [S]
Within the sanctuary of this small building, the air is heady with the
smells of molding laundry, feces, ammonia and the ancient reek of the
Labyrinth itself. It has been recently cleared of the sand, trash and
debris that once littered this place. The building is in terrible
disrepair, but apparently now serves as a shelter for the hordes of homeless
children in Allanak. A small cooking fire burns near the back of the
building near which lies a large pile of soiled laundry. A small number of
bruised and dirty children live and thrive here, some play quietly, while
others sit listessly.
The ancient, green-eyed woman stands hunched over the fire.
A grimy, shaggy-haired urchin crouches in the shadows.
The bulky, grim-faced man is here, disciplining the children.
Holding the baby in his arms, the pale-faced, serpent-tattooed
man walks over the fire, crouching next to the ancient, green-eyed woman.
Patting the baby softly, you say to the ancient, green-eyed woman, in sirihish:
"Hello Matron. Long time no see."
The ancient, green-eyed woman glances up at you.
The ancient, green-eyed woman's eyes shift to the baby in your arms.
You say to the ancient, green-eyed woman, in sirihish:
"I have something that I want you to keep. And raise for me."
Spitting to one side before speaking, the ancient, green-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Eh, alright. Won't be much good for a couple years yet. I'l get one'a the older brats to
watch it."
The ancient, green-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"But I'll need somethin' for its upkeep."
Wetting his lips, you say to the ancient, green-eyed woman, in
sirihish:
"I want him to be raised.. With a special care matron. He is not one of the other brats."
You say to the ancient, green-eyed woman, in sirihish:
"You will get a special upkeep for him as well."
You say to the ancient, green-eyed woman, in sirihish:
"I mean.. You will get special -something- for his upkeep."
You ask the ancient, green-eyed woman, in sirihish:
"Do we understand each other?"
One eye squinted, the ancient, green-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Every month? I'll treat 'im good enough if it's worth it."
You say to the ancient, green-eyed woman, in sirihish:
"You name what it is worth then."
The baby starts wailing again, squirming in your arms.
You say to the ancient, green-eyed woman, in sirihish:
"I will come and see him once in every two weeks."
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man pats softly to the back of the baby, exhaling a soft sigh.
The ancient, green-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Well then, give me what you think he's worth an' when you come to check you decide if you're
gettin' what you paid for."
The ancient, green-eyed woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Can't say any fairer than that."
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man bobs his head, passing the baby to the ancient, green-eyed woman.
You get a pile of allanaki coins from a bone-studded backpack.
There were 1000 coins.
It is very light.
The ancient, green-eyed woman takes the baby into her arms, gently rocking it until the cries
subside.
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man takes a few coin pouches from your bone-studded backpack, tossing one of them to the ancient, green-eyed woman.
You ask the ancient, green-eyed woman, in sirihish:
"Looks good enough?"
Looking the baby over then glancing back to you, the ancient, green-eyed woman says to you, in
sirihish:
"This poor thing's half starved, I better feed it."
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man absently, tosses another
coin pouch to the ancient, green-eyed woman, bobbing his head.
His tone quiet, you say to the ancient, green-eyed woman, in
sirihish:
"Alright.. You know what to do with him."
The ancient, green-eyed woman slips the coins into a pocket, carrying the baby off with a nod.
The pale-faced, serpent-tattooed man furrows his brows, staring
at the fire thoughtfully.
You think:
"Should I just go and attempt killing Eunoli now?"
You think:
"Nah.. Does not worth half the trouble."
You think:
"I will think of something, when the time is right."
The ancient, green-eyed woman moves over to the fire, holding the baby in the crook of one arm and
taking a small bowl of mushy gruel in the other.
Staring blankly at the fire, you say to the ancient, green-eyed
woman, in sirihish:
"I will be going.. Guess I will have some business to do in the alleys. You take care of the
kid."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
Turning toward the doorway, his empty hand reaching to the hilt
of your sharp, well-balanced bone halfsword, you say to the ancient, green-eyed woman, in
sirihish:
"I will come check him in two weeks."
Dead End [NE]
You are standing in the middle of a poverty-stricken alley, the
Highlord's chamberpot of human life. All about you, piled against
dilapidated stone buildings, are piles of garbage, excrement, and the
occasional corpse -- or perhaps that's simply a sleeping child -- that
gather here. The sky above, what is visible of its dome through the
blood-tinged air rank with foul scents, shines less brightly upon you, the
sun's rays blocked out by the tall cracked structures of crumbling red
stone, buildings which give this alley a claustrophobic feel, despite its
being quite wide.
This alleyway ends here. To the west the grey stone of the outer wall
of Allanak is visible above the piles of trash and debris piled up against
it. A narrow doorway is visible along the north row of buildings. The only
other visible exit leads eastwards.
The obsidian-skinned woman sends you a telepathic message:
"I am sorry for the loss."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The news of Sophie's death traveled as fast as Serpent did. Within moments, Mazlaen Fale was in his mind
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The ruddy, purple-bearded man sends you a telepathic message:
"So I here Haadith has only recently been executed, Serpent."
The ruddy, purple-bearded man sends you a telepathic message:
"It sounds like there's about to be a blood bath. A Guild blood bath. Unless I get some
answers."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the ruddy, purple-bearded man with the Way.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The obsidian-skinned woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Serpent, you should make your way to Allanak as soon as possiable."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the ruddy, purple-bearded man:
"Answer? What is the question?"
The obsidian-skinned woman sends you a telepathic message:
"I am here and I need someone to tell a story to a Tempalar here."
The obsidian-skinned woman sends you a telepathic message:
"I will wait for you in Allanak."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The obsidian-skinned woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Tell the templars of Allanak how they killed Sophie"
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
The ruddy, purple-bearded man sends you a telepathic message:
"Previously it was claimed that the Guild was responsible for killing Haadith, but it's been
proven that.. such.. just simply isn't true. Someone's been lying to a Red Robe, Serpent."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the ruddy, purple-bearded man:
"I have killed him, myself.. With my very own blade."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the ruddy, purple-bearded man:
"What makes you think it is not so?"
The ruddy, purple-bearded man sends you a telepathic message:
"Then Sophie and two others -weren't- recently executed in the Northlands?"
The ruddy, purple-bearded man sends you a telepathic message:
"Haadith's belongings weren't destroyed publically in the North? All my sources are full of
shit, are they?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the ruddy, purple-bearded man:
"Sophie has been executed. Haadith's belongings are destroyed. What does it make at all?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the ruddy, purple-bearded man:
"Haadith is killed by me, in the labyrinth."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the ruddy, purple-bearded man:
"In the westside."
The ruddy, purple-bearded man sends you a telepathic message:
"What of this Renali fellow?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the ruddy, purple-bearded man:
"Who cares if Sophie had Haadith's belongings.. And ran away to Tuluk"
You think:
"I do."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the ruddy, purple-bearded man:
"Reneli? Well.. She has nothing about anything. She was just Veralius' concubine."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the ruddy, purple-bearded man:
"I could enlighten you a little bit about Veralius and all, but it gets a little nifty there.
We paid for this information, and if we get what we paid for, we can pass it to you of course."
You dissolve the psychic link.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Thus ended the remains of Haadith. However it sparkled the taste of revenge on the crime lord. He was uncertain how to start, but first, he had a lot of work to built back the damaged relations of his organisations.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Submitter's note:
Staying in a foreign city started to show its unpleasant face.
Sophie could not get to talk to anyone. Nor did Serpent have much
of a control over his...
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