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Lubidius

Winds Of Salarvya : Dreams Of A Petal Throne - Chapter 2

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One of the guards who was waiting outside enters the hold and approaches Jathali. He hands him a small piece of parchment, giving a slight bow as he retracts his hand. Jathali uses a shard of limited light entering the hold to read the note. "My friends, I need to speak to the Captain. Prepare yourselves for arrival, we will be in Chame'el by tomorrow's early light. There will be more time as we re-supply in Chame'el to review these materials. There is more that this man has revealed, through.. <pausing> .. interrogations then I can speak of at this time. Good evening to you all, and thank you for your aid today. The members of this expedition owe you their lives."

 

The night turns to day, as the Nosalas approaches the grand harbor of Chame'el. You have only small stories of the exuberant culture found in this grand port of Salarvya. Those stories pale in comparison to the gilded towers, and grotesque stone-carved demonic images that line the main harbor's long walls. Colorful streaks of paint mix amongst green and alabaster stones, in a mosaic menagerie of emotive works of art. It was as if the creators of such works wished for the port walls to ward off the demonic effigies there-upon , cast for centuries length; to hold all of the Salarvyan populace close to heart and hearth; lapped delicately but at arms length from the dark ones of the ocean's deep.

 

The Nosalas creaks and curls into the recess of the awaiting mother's arms that the Chame'el dock resembles. As if a man sighing relief at the end of a long day's work, the ships boards creek and release the pressures of a long first leg of your journey. What would be in store for you on this next portion of the voyage. It is with trepidation and naked fear that you all step off onto the docks of Chame'el, jewel of the south-western coast of Salarvya.

 

<GM Note: You may openly communicate with one another now about what has occurred up to this moment, travel within the city to do research, go to your local temple, anything you wish to do at this time. Before debarking ship ,the Captain has stated it will take at least two full days to repair the ship properly for the next leg of the journey, and to obtain enough goods to last the next portion of the sea voyage. If you have any questions about the immediate area, feel free to PM me. Jathali had also allowed for you all to copy down the markings and general shape of the items he displayed to you. >

Edited by Lubidius
typos...

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Osúre blinked in the dim hold and held out a hand to brush the artifacts. The Temple would KILL for a ward to the Blue Room. Her mind was a tempest of emotions and motivations and fears that it would not to to display, and so she simply turned and walked from the hold.

 

"Kamár, I will be going ashore in two kíren if you wish to accompany me."

 

An hour later she had regained some equilibrium and was ready to go about her business. She summoned a ship's slave to carry the bag of coins she had promised to deliver for her clan as part of a trade deal, and checked that the list of requested supplies was tucked in her robes, along with the copies of the writings from the objects in the hold. Surely there must be a decent library in this strange country?

 

[[Anyway, those are her two goals. I will write more later]]

Edited by Danielle

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As Osure and Kamar make their way down the gang plank, to the bustling portside festival that is under way today in the grand city of Chame'el; they see Hanumal and Ur-Athal bartering nearby for some much needed fruit and meats. As Osure and Kamar clear the planking, they hear the tom-tom-toming of chlen hide drums beating from behind them. Startled, Osure looses her footing a bit, stumbling over, dropping several of the goods she has brought off ship. A small boy nearby runs and picks up the dropped wares, carefully giving them back to Osure, a broad smile on his rosy cheeks. The retinue of the grand lady that was voyaging with your entourage makes their way slowly and surely down the plank, fanning the Lady as she descends to port side. Hanumal and Ur-Athal take their newly purchased foods and stuff them into pouches and traveling bags they had dragged ashore from the Nosalas. As they make their way to where Osure and Kamar stand, the Princess see's Hanumal, and moves towards him as if to speak. Quickly, one of her female attendants barges in, and says ... "Ngangmura Kasi Hanumal, the lady Bsuha hiSsánmirim would like to thank you for your efforts, and those of your cohorts during the voyage. She feels that without your efforts, we all would have met on another less amenable voyage, to the Paradises of Teretane! Her highness would like to invite your party to a gala tonight, at the clanhouse of the Cloak Of Azure Gems, near the center of Chame'el. I'm sure you will be able to find your way without directions. We all of her gracious party, wish to give you our personal thanks as well. Tonight then? You shall grace us perhaps with stories of your glorious past? The Lady has heard your name before Kasi Hanumal, with great respect too. She has had the friendly ear and lofty words piercing her presence of your dear Hrúgash Thayéng hiShanggárdas. She has met and admired the man many times."

 

{GM Note: You all may open role-play for two to three replies. Then we move to the night gala, or other scenes as dictated by roleplay}

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Hanúmal watches the lady Bsuha hiSsánmirim's expression as her attendant speaks. He thinks back to the clan-house of the Iron Fist in Jakálla, watching her retinue pass by in the street. Her remarkable beauty was undiminished by either this close proximity or the rough voyage to this port.

 

"Chegúkh, tùsmitléshu. It would be both honor and joy to join you in the clan-house of the Cloak Of Azure Gems -"

 

In his thoughts, he hears the words of Heréksa Tsutel hi’Chiáng. "...before Túleng kisses the world at nightfall.”

 

Hanúmal feels his skin crawl, and for a moment thinks of the caged madman in the hold of the ship, wondering if it is, in truth, all of them that are insane, and the man within the cage is the only sane one he has met since his encounter in the vortex outside Agésha.

 

He snaps out of the thought, looking at the lady Bsuha hiSsánmirim. "-this evening. Chegúkh."

 

He watches her face, thoughts racing. If the skein of my destiny was torn apart at Agésha, how is it that you seem so tangled in it?

Edited by Lee Torres

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"Hanumal, I do believe this may present something of a unique problem. Since I have been traveling and studying there has been little need for me to be presentable at affairs of state, which I assume this will technically qualify as. So I have a question, what would be appropriate wear for such an event, and as I clearly lack anything resembling what you will surely describe to me, would you be willing to assist me in shopping for the correct apparel, and other sundries?"

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Hanúmal stifles the laugh that threatens to emerge. The very thought of this giant in courtly finery...

 

"Of course. You shall be appropriately garbed this evening. Come, we will find a clothier capable of this task."

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Hanumal and Ur Athal make their way to a local Salarvyani haberdasher. As they meander the tightly packed merchant area of the port, they are bumped and prodded constantly by beggars, children at play, and pickpockets attempting a quick snatch. To no avail of course. Both warriors quickly stop anyone from taking their goods. Ur Athal grabs one of the pickpockets by the hand, raises him like a play toy, laughs endlessly, then says 'Be gone little thief..' There are endless shops, savory carts of meats and veggies, many of which Hanumal and Ur Athal have never laid eyes on before now. They make their way into the nicest looking clothier's shop. Looking at the wares lining the walls, they appear to have shawls, longer robes, layered clothing which they might be able to patch work a three ring tent to drape over Ur Athal's massive body. As they begin to look closer at a few articles of clothing, Ur Athal sees a chlen cart droning down the lane outdoors of the make-shift sidewalk shop. Creeek. Creeek, ca thunk, Creeek Creeek Creek ca thunk. An odd beat to the drum that is the cart's wheels beats down on his brain. Ur Athal's eyes take particular note of a rather Tall (even in N'luss standards) male N'luss, the face of which is so hair bound that an expedition would need to be sent to find the face underneath.

Edited by Lubidius

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"Excuse me for a moment..." as I set the fabrics down. Stepping out in to the lane directly in front of the great beast (I am prepared to dive away at a moments notice should it prove to be necessary.) "Hail countryman! Have we met before?"

 

[Gotta start collecting minions sometime ;) ]

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"Ur... Ur... my... " the enslaved N'luss collapses against the side of the cage. Sweat flies off the face of the imprisoned giant. The rigid tree limbs that make up the lonely lodging bulge slightly due to the lack of fore-sight of it's maker in designing for N'luss warriors. As his hair falls back from sun seared flesh, a tattoo across his upper right cheek pierces Ur Athal's soul. It is the marking of his clansmen. Looking closer at the left leg of the man, another tattoo, this one depicting the given name the man achieved in early life. The symbol he sees there sends home to his heart shards of glass, evicerating the memory that is... his brother. Could it be?.... Ur Athal thinks... Anger, questions prevail in Ur Athal's newly shattered mind. Three strongmen, and a slimy merchant approach the front of the cage. The loathsome merchant chimes in "How can we help you large one? Would you like a closer look? Perhaps on the same selling stage as this oaf is sold to the highest bidder?"

Edited by Lubidius

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[[i am recovered!]]

 

Os'ure pinches her nose and blows out the lamp. Some of the script in this book looks similar, but after nearly 6 kirén all of the letters are beginning to blurr. At Hmakuyal this would have been a relatively easy task, but her god's temple in this Salarvyani city is a pitiful thing, it's library a pale shadow of what she is used to.

 

In frustration, she grabs a low level alcolyte by the arm. "Tusmichan. See these three books? You will have them copied out for me by sunset tomorrow. Enlist help if you must. This one," here she points to the slim old volume she was just reading, "in full. These other two you need only copy the pages I have noted down. It is imperative that each glyph be copies exactly.. Now, take them away. I am going to get some air."

 

She would study the texts once they were back at sea and there was nothing better to do. For now, there was an entire city to explore, and her mind thought best when her body was occupied.

 

After walking the better parts of the city lost in thought, she looks up to see herself at the slave market. It would be good to buy a slave. At Hmakuyal she had not needed one of her own, as servants were plentiful, but the scant few on the ship were ham-fisted, and always busy, and she would not trust one of them to launder a fine robe. Plus, it was a waste of her time to be braiding her own hair. . .

 

Preoccupied with these thoughts, Osúre wandered into the slave market looking about for a merchant.

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Three strongmen, and a slimy merchant approach the front of the cage. The loathsome merchant chimes in "How can we help you large one? Would you like a closer look? Perhaps on the same selling stage as this oaf is sold to the highest bidder?"

 

Hanúmal, seeing the impending trouble, strides into the street, his posture arrogant, like a Kérdu reviewing his niqómi. "Look at this!" He looks very pointedly at the three hulking guards. "These three would indeed make fine slaves. We need strong backs at the oars of our ship. What would these cost? They look a little soft in the arms and gut, but a few days at the oars will harden them well enough."

 

He waits for their reactions while his mind takes him, step-by-step, through the various methods to pass through them, that his knife blade may pierce the soft meat under the merchant's chin and up into his brain before his three burly escorts realize that Hanúmal has already killed them in passing.

 

 

 

[is there any indication of the merchant's clan? Is he Collar of Bronze, by chance? As one of the ship's contingent is of the Collar of Bronze, perhaps Hanúmal can use what he knows of his own man to push buttons on this one...]

Edited by Lee Torres

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"You will release your captive, NOW!" Staring at the tiny little speck of a merchant with every ounce of hatred in my heart summoning up every bit of intimidation I can, and slowly grinding out the next sentence in a level and bone chilling telling of absolute certain future truth "Or before another candle mark passes your servants will die as I shove your entrails down their puny throats. CHOOSE NOW!"

 

[intimidation Results for 3D+1 Wild Die: 4 Die 2: 5 Die 3: 6 Total: 16]

 

Should he say anything but that which I command him to I will Dodge any attempts to attack me and neatly slice open the merchants belly, at which point I will begin to make a neat pile of his entrails to kill his men with.

 

[Dodge Results for 5D Wild Die: 3 Die 2: 6 Die 3: 6 Die 4: 2 Die 5: 4 Total: 21]

[Melee Results for 6D Wild Die: 6 Bonus Die: 3 Bonus! Die 2: 3 Die 3: 4 Die 4: 3 Die 5: 6 Die 6: 2 Total: 27]

[Damage Results for 4D+1 Wild Die: 4 Die 2: 6 Die 3: 2 Die 4: 5 Total: 18]

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Recalculating the circumstances, Hanúmal sighs. "Pah! Now see what has happened. You have angered the ambassador in the middle of his shopping for tonight's diplomatic reception. You must do as he says, or yet another glorious war may be inevitable. Not that I'd mind, as a soldier, but Salarvya may be very upset with you for provoking it, given how the alliances between the nations are shaping up. As you can see, the ambassador of the Nlüss is very charming and persuasive in his reasoned arguments..."

 

[Command roll - 4D - 5, 4, 4, 6 = 19]

Edited by Lee Torres

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"Normally my words would be sweeter than those spoken by a mother to a babe, but this aggression shall not stand! This effrontery to my house must be resolved immediately or only blood will fulfill the demands of honor, you see this foolish merchant has dared to imprison my very brother, and lest he moves quickly death will surely follow."

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"La! The ambassador's very own blood, caged like a common slave! You would be well advised to release this esteemed Nlüss nobleman at once, industrious seller of slaves. You will naturally be handsomely rewarded if you do the noble and right action at this moment... Persist in ignoble action, though, and I suspect your blood shall swiftly and messily answer for the affront to his."

Edited by Lee Torres

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((Wouldn't this be more fast-talk than command? Does this game even have a lying skill?))

 

Hearing the shouts, Osure wanders over to see the impending confrontation. "Honorable Kasi, could you please do me the favor of explaining what is going on here?"

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((If it is ruled to not be Command, here is a roll on Charisma = 3D - 3, 6, 5 = 14))

 

"I shall explain later, learned priestess. At the moment I'd suggest you keep a respectful distance as bloodshed may be imminent."

Edited by Lee Torres

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Laughs begin to curdle from the men, like the smell of three day old milk of a Okhiba. The audible percolating pungency is halted only by the booming voice of another. This one chimes in "Perhaps the actual ambassador to these lands would have something to say about that. Ur Athal... ahh, the young lad I used to bounce around like a small plaything on my legs. Perhaps you have more control of your bowels now and have learned only to shite in the public houses and not on your uncles legs. Speaking of dung, my nephew here, your long lost brother, the cowardice thug he is, is but a small price to pay for recognition as the true leader of the N'luss in the eyes of the Salarvyani consulate. He may finally make a great warrior, the gods know he will surpass your cowardly edifice and spring to immortality, either on these sands, or those on the isle of the dead. He will make a great warrior in the growing business here in Chame'el, the Hirila'kte pits that have sprung up like the prick of a young loving lad. A warrior he will be, dead or alive, it matters not to the audience who will pay to see him perform. And you Tsolyani warrior (spitting to the ground). You speak of nobility. Your kind lacks the common courtesy to allow this slaver to go about his noble duties. Speak not of "ignoble" to me Tsolyani turd." The large older N'luss takes a defensive posture standing next to one of the three thugs in tow.

 

<GM Notes, edits complete, you may reply.>

Edited by Lubidius

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The priestess shrugs and steps back, not wishing to get blood on her robes or become embroiled in anything unseemly. She stares curiously at the caged Nhluss from behind her mask.

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((This speech only happens if Ur Athal is not already attacking before the other Nlüss has finished speaking. If that is not the case, my character will use the slave cart as a springboard for a targeted decapitation strike on the elder Nlüss.))

 

"This man is the Nlüss ambassador to a new Tsolyani colony, beyond the known world. No one else seemed to want the job. I'd ask for you to retract your hasty misjudgment and offensive prattling, tsamungá, but I sense in you a barbaric overgrown Chlen-humping loud-mouthed fool that is eager to die in as bloody and horrible a fashion as can be arranged. Perhaps you so treasure your simple-minded and incomplete impressions of the afterlife that you hasten to begin it, before you become even more aged and decrepit than you already are. I am overjoyed for you that the skein of your pathetic destiny has drawn you here, to one that is more than willing and certainly more than able to oblige you."

Edited by Lee Torres

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Osure ignores the braggart Nhluss, and what she assumes will be the ensuing duel, and turns to the merchant.

 

"Tusmiténga, tell me how this man came to be enslaved? His he a war prisoner? A debtor? Sold by his clan? And keep a civil tongue in your mouth while you explain, empty threats and insulting speech are little to me but signs of ill breeding and low stature."

 

((I am going to hold off on further actions or comment until I know whether I get a response from the merchant))

Edited by Danielle

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Ur Athal's uncle snorts... "Hrrrrrrrrrrrrmpppphhh. I see your friend has a larger pair then you Ur. Perhaps he would take THIS option (making a note not to talk directly to Hanumal). A duel, to the death, in the pits. If this braggart wins, I have your brother released. We settle this in the old ways? Yes?.. As otherwise" looking down the marketplace center.. "we have attracted the locals. I think their courts might not see the matter in either of our favor otherwise." Several Salarvyani locals are talking to a group of 4 guards. They are starting to eye the group and move to the location of the tuffle.

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“Ignore me at your peril, old fool. I am Hanúmal hi'Kharsáma of the clan of the Iron Fist, Kási of Kuruthúni in the Tsolyáni Imperial Fifth Heavy Infantry, the Legion of the Mighty Prince. It is through the efforts of Tsolyáni 'turds' like me that your malformed and ungainly people have not conquered the world, and why you sit idly in the north stroking yourselves and dreaming of the ancient and forever-lost days of the Empire of the Dragon Warriors. I will accept your challenge to the arena. And as it is you that has placed upon me these accusations of dishonorable and ignoble acts, it is you, tlòshuntsám, that I will kill there.

Edited by Lee Torres

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Your commanding presence finally forces the hardened N'luss to stare you straight in the eye. "Then it is set. Meet us at the pits, which are between the town and the temples to the dead on the outskirts to the East. I'll be the tall one waiting to rip your skein of destiny in two." Barking quickly back to the slithering merchant, visibly perturbed he may lose his prized posession. "I'll pay double back on the boy for the trouble if this Tsolyani wins, which he will not...I'll arrange for the moneys to meet your hand if I meet our makers. Hrrrmmphhhh, either way you will all be fed and wined while you watch me slice this oaf." All four of the men back up slowly, making sure to make there way towards the approaching guards. "Until then... " the merchant punctuates the withdrawal. All of their hands slowly release their sword and dagger hilts in the process.

 

<GM Note: Ur Athal, I'll private message you with more details on your uncle and brother's past. In interim, realize they were both prisoners of war, and you have not heard from either of them for nearly 5 years on. You thought your brother dead up to this point. You all may open role-play for two to three replies after which time we can move to the evening's gala. If I don't see any piping in within two days real-time, I'll forward the action as needed.>

Edited by Lubidius

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