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Lubidius

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

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"That went well, I think. Shall we continue our shopping? I humbly ask that you take no offense at the things I said of your people. I simply hoped he held his rage in less rigid control. No matter. You're not fond of your uncle, are you?"

Edited by Lee Torres

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Behind her mask, Osuré's brow wrinkles in surprise. "You two will not duel at the Hirílakte arena for all to see?" Then she shrugs it away as a trifling matter. "Ur Athal, your uncle certainly seems a disagreeable sort, but why do you not simply purchase your brother's freedom? Though, I have heard that Nhluss are exceedingly expensive slaves because of their size and utility. . ."

 

The priestess stares into space for a bit, losing her train of thought. "I have not seen a duel since I was a young girl in Khirgar. It is a very popular thing there with all the soldiers, but not much approved of within the temple of Hmakuyal. Kasi, would you mind if I attended, and watched? There should be some neutral party to attest that all the proper forms were followed."

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"No my friend, I am not fond him at all, it saddens me that you will be the one to spill his entrails instead of I. I fear we will be headed into an ambush." Looking pensive. "Anyway lets finish shopping, I have a very long night ahead of me, I will need some of your men. It would be best if your friends are there long before my uncle's friends arrive. Speaking of which we will need a paralytic to help keep our guests quiet."

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Hanúmal laughs at the question. "We need to find a suitable wardrobe for our ponderous friend, here. Then I will return to the ship for my armor and go to the arena. I should have dispatched our malodorous friend in plenty of time to reach the festivities. I would imagine that many of the tactics we've used against the Shen will avail me, and if Ur Athal knows of any particular weakness his uncle evinces in battle, perhaps he is of a mind to share that with me also. I would naturally consider it a great honor if you would attend. It is right and noble to observe all proper forms, even when the battle is against one so degenerate."

 

"No my friend, I am not fond him at all, it saddens me that you will be the one to spill his entrails instead of I. I fear we will be headed into an ambush." Looking pensive. "Anyway lets finish shopping, I have a very long night ahead of me, I will need some of your men. It would be best if your friends are there long before my uncle's friends arrive. Speaking of which we will need a paralytic to help keep our guests quiet."

 

"Perhaps the priestess can help with the paralytic. Should we return to the ship now and seek out your new clothing closer to the gathering tonight? Truly, I would welcome an ambush at this stage. These streets give me tactical advantages that the arena lacks."

Edited by Lee Torres

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"I can make such a thing tomorrow. There are some reptile venoms that would suffice, if applied when freshly milked from the beasts. I wonder where one buys such animals?

 

I am afraid I will be of no use in the dressing. I know little of formal Salarvyani costume. I was just going to wear my circle robes. That can't be taken amiss. . . can it? In any case I must finish my business here. I am tired of watching the sailors mangle my clothes in the washing and having to braid my own hair, so I have set my mind upon a slave. If you do not mind the waiting I shall accompany you after that, otherwise we will see each other at this party."

 

Osúre begins to look around for the stand of a more reputable slaving clan.

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[sorry I thought the duel was tomorrow, hence the minor confusion.]

 

"Well no paralytic then. Extra men and armor though should at least keep things open to a fair conclusion."

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"Ah. You mean a poison for your duel. That sort of thing is rather frowned upon, isn't it? I suppose I could make you one this evening if we can get an appropriate beast, or if you don't mind spending coin at an alchemist's shop, I can advise you on a good purchase." While she speaks Osúre eyes a slaver's stall that seems less seedy than the rest.

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"No. No trickery. Not of that sort, anyway. I am no stranger to the killing ground of the Hirilakte arena. I have plenty of tricks of my own, although none of them that would compromise my name. Let us return to the Nosalas. I'll send some of my men out to find you a fitting garment, pardon the pun, while I confront your uncle."

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@Osure - You make your way to the local slaver you eyed. He is helping one other person as you approach. He nods lightly to you, letting you know he will help you soon. After the person makes their mark, using a red inked stamp the slaver puts his seal over the contract. With such a simple act, the life of the slave has changed hands. The seemingly friendly man approaches you, "Tusmishan, ngangmuru! How may I be of service honorable priestess?"

 

@Hanumal / Ur Athal - You make your way back to the Nosalas, quickly asking your Ahoggya friend Barrel of Swords to attend to gathering clothes for yourself and Ur Athal for the evening. After a simple look over Ur Athal, Barrel pipes in... "I'm sure a local merchant might have a tent this N'luss could use as britches! Hah! My Tsoyani better now, yes Kasi?!" You relay to Barrel , and your Pe Choi brethren in arms your intent to battle Ur Athal's uncle. You relay your desire to have all your belongings to be given to your sister, in the ultimately improbable result of your death. Ur Athal gives you a thankful glance as you both make your way towards the pits of death, just outside of town to the East. You arrive in the immediate area, hearing a crowd of locales cheering from below the muddy ramparts that surround them. This is far from the clean and well kept arenas of Tsolyani. For such a rich culture, with golden spires and gilded onion topped temples, the smell is atrocious, and even the dead are not honored with an arena worth viewing on their travel to the death pyramids beyond. As you approach the pits, you see a funeral procession off in the distance, many priests trailing behind; like small river birds trailing their mothers feathery bond. You enter the pits down a make-shift wooden stair well. Wobbly at best, the trip down to the waiting area is almost as dangerous as the duels within! You are met by a man in dank, dirty wardrobe. He asks your name, which is met by a 'hrrmmmph, a Tsoyani warrior. We'll see if you can fight on your own then. Do you relinquish your right to a death debt?' As you are asked this question, you quickly peer upon the towering N'luss and his squirmy slaver friend nearby, 'checking in' in similar fashion. Loud clanging and the screams of an arena fight attacks your eardrums, startling you from your stare at the N'luss. You see what appears to be the final blows of a fight.

 

godsofthearena.jpg

 

@Kamar, GM Note: It is assumed you are gathering simple goods, conversing with Osure as/when needed, and she has spoken her desire to be left alone while shopping in the merchant area. Just PM me if you want to act otherwise. You can replenish all of your basic needs in the immediate area. If there is anything special you want to find, let me know via PM or the out of character thread.

Edited by Lubidius

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Hanúmal watches the fight, taking in the layout of the arena; what might be used to his advantage, what his foe might try to use to his. The killing going on now is of little concern. He intends to give this crowd a show that will be long remembered. He does his best to look unduly nervous.

 

He turns back to the official. "Ssa."

Edited by Lee Torres

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((OOC: I am going to take some liberties to speed this scene along and get Osúre to the duel. I am purposely not describing the slave much in case you wanted to, but if you don't I'll flesh her out a bit))

 

Osúre looks down at the merchant "I am looking to purchase a slave." She pauses "A girl. No special talents, just domestic skills, I do not care what she looks like, but she should speak Tsolyani, ideally be Tsolyani. You must get some of my countrymen being traded through a port this large."

 

The merchant describes a few girls, one is chosen, and he begins to rub his hand and settle down to bargain. "130 kaitars," he opens with nearly double her value.

Behind her mask, Osúre--who for the past five years has had all of her needs supplied by the monastery and not paid money for anything but animal carcasses or tools of her trade --pauses. She had had no idea slaves cost so much. 130 kaitars would uncomfortably deplete her resources.

 

"I'll give you 150, but you have to take it as a promissory note on the Great Stone Clanhouse. I am sure you can trade that, or pay someone to fetch the money."

 

The merchant's mouth drops open in surprise at the backwards direction her bargaining is taking, and mistaking this for pained inconvenience, and not wishing to seem niggling, the priestess offers "Oh yes well I suppose it is a great distance to the border cities. Make it 175 even."

 

A kíren later Osúre leaves the merchant's tent with her slave-girl in tow, congratulating herself on her success in her "adventurous little outing" while behind her the merchant stares at the promissory note and giggles to himself.

 

"Keep up, we're going to go watch my friend Hanunmal duel. I'll buy you a treat or something, but if you try and run away I'll shrivel your leg." she explained in the tone of voice one would use with a recalcitrant five year old.

Edited by Danielle

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A kíren later Osúre leaves the merchant's tent with her slave-girl in tow, congratulating herself on her success in her "adventurous little outing" while behind her the merchant counts his coins and giggles to himself.

 

"Keep up, we're going to go watch my friend Hanunmal duel. I'll buy you a treat or something, but if you try and run away I'll shrivel your leg." she explained in the tone of voice one would use with a recalcitrant five year old.

 

Kamár, his tongue beginning to hurt from the effort of biting it, chose this moment to intervene. "Yes, worthless slave! You will obey the mighty sorceress, or you will feel the back of my hand!" Stepping closer, he continued in level tones, "Honored priestess, perhaps you'd better let me handle the task of disciplining the slave--it's beneath the dignity of a noble lady like yourself."

 

Osúre waved a hand airily and proceeded on. Grabbing the no-doubt terrified girl by the arm, he whispered in a much warmer tone, "Don't carry on, girl, it's not so bad as that. She's a noble lady who has spent her whole life living in a slumbering volcano surrounded by sorcerors and demons. She's not accustomed to commanding servants of flesh and blood, but she'll not harm you if you do as you're told. She's got no taste for cruelty, and won't demand you do more than braid her hair and keep her quarters neat. Keep your head down and be a good girl, and you may even get to end your days back home in Tsolyánu instead of among these greasy yellow back-stabbers."

 

Straightening his back and squaring his soldiers, he boomed, "And don't make me tell you again! Now move, churl!" Marching forward, he seemed to forget the slave's existence. "Ah, honored priestess, the Salarvyáni grub after money like rényu after knucklebones. Perhaps if there's bargaining to be done in the future, it might better preserve the dignity of your ladyship's noble clan and our own temple of the Blue Lord to allow your humble guardsman to do the chaffering, eh?" He wished he could take off his mask and wipe the sweat from his brow--but was also glad it hid his features. She'd lost enough money to buy one of his cousins a first-circle clerkship in the Palace of the Priesthoods on this slip of a girl-slave....

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"Oh!" the ebon mask turns to him and tilts in worry "You don't think I came across as ignobly concerned with material wealth in my chaffering, do you? In any case, yours is a wise suggestion."

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"Oh!" the ebon mask turns to him and tilts in worry "You don't think I came across as ignobly concerned with material wealth in my chaffering, do you? In any case, yours is a wise suggestion."

 

"Aaaahhh..." Kamár paused awkwardly, praising the Lord of the Blue Shadows for the thousandth time for His wisdom in providing His servants with masks to conceal their faces, lest they betray themselves. "Ah, no, certainly not, noble lady. You displayed a most noble disregard for the humble káitar. Most noble, indeed."

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shranaklelshamukh.png

 

"Shranuk lel Shamukh" - 'Bread And Blood'

 

Osure, Kamar, and their recently purchased servant girl make their way in relative haste to the Pits of Chame-el, just east of the edge of the city proper. Large terraced pyramids (adorned with the symbols of various gods), several gilded obelisks, large artwork of various designs dot the nearby horizon. While paling in comparison to the equivalent Tsolyani 'City Of The Dead', they still hold equal value in this culture. The long journey to the isle of death begins here. The pits are an odd fore-play to the immanent climax that is your last voyage. The stench of death and Salarvyani garbage is difficult to separate! As they approach the largest pit (the one where audible applause emanates from), they see a small procession of the Priests of Q'on making their way down the wooden stairwell into the pit. The one at the front has a highly ornate dog mask on, particular ferocious looking. The priest is carrying a large two-handed war-hammer, with a bronze like metal as it's head. Of great worth, this must be a prized possession.

 

Switch to Ur-Athal and Hanamal's view -

Looking up you see the yellow and white garbed Priests of Q'on make their way into the muddy bloody pit. They slither down the ramparts until they take their seats in a row of chairs set aside for their use. An iconographic image of Q'on is placed in front of the great Belkhanu's statue, which stands watch over the dead and dying that will line the floor of this sandy pit of doom. In front of the Priests Of Q'on, several attending Priests of Karakan, scramble to and fro , taking care of patron requests, tidying up blood spatters that dot the flimsy railings protecting the growing crowd. Several Karakan initiates are seen rattling about the crowd with goods, wares, and most deliciously, foods of sweet and meaty prospect.

 

The crowd wails as the match before Hanumal's ends in a bloody mess. The victor showing his bloody chlen blade, shaking it in excitement.

 

The Priests of Q'on assemble into a sanctified line, slowly they approach the body of the fallen one. The rest of the priests circle the body, chanting in old Engsvanyali. They stop cold, then stare up at the head Priest. The priest, holding the war-hammer, takes it up high, then slams the slightly pointed front edge of the hammer head down upon the bulbous head beneath him. Audible gasps are heard, several children who snuck into the pit to watch scream out loud, cowering into one another's shoulders.

 

Once the death ritual ends, the priests cross the fallen's hands over his heart, raise him above, and lead the body out an exit way; a hole really, towards the city of the dead nearby.

 

Hanumal and Ur Athal's uncle (gm note: I'll supply his name forthwith) are soon led to their preparation chambers. Each are stripped down to their undergarments, provided a short sword of chlen hide, a small round shield of the same, a helmet that covers all but the eyes (you may chose from the colors of your god), and padding for one arm and leg.

 

You are led out by the same Priest of Q'on who held the death ritual. He recites a prayer over you both in Engsvanyali. A referee approaches with a stick and a whip circled and tied to his belt. "Are you ready to die? Are you ready to give your life for your deeds? Are you prepared to meet your God? ... " Both fighters nod. "Then it is done. Begin!!"

 

<GM Note: The fighting area is circular in shape. The ground is sand, and mud, some very small rocks here and there. And it is blood stained, more then you've ever witnessed, even during battles of old. You are set approximately 20 ft. apart. Near the edge of the fighting ring. There are no objects within the ring other then yourselves and your weapons. You can of course use the tall walls of the fighting area to bound off of, etc. If you have particular questions, ask away in the OOC thread. Other characters then Hanumal can of course also post their actions, conversations, purchases, whatever you are doing while watching the match. >

Edited by Lubidius

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Hanúmal circles toward his foe, wearing an expression belying more worry and concern than he feels. He gets a feel for the balance of the blade. Not a quality weapon. No matter, he thinks, it only needs to strike a few times. Sending up a quick prayer to Karakan, he closes.

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"I see you are quivering like that no good nephew of mine. This should be easier then expected. Rrrrraaaaaaahhh!!" A first mighty blow is sent towards Hanumal. As Hanumal feints; depicting an inexperienced lack of decision, he is able to block the incoming blow. A great crashing sound ensues. "CRAAAACCCCK KATHOOM". The shield is not of great quality, as good as your slightly bent sword. But the first round you go unscathed. As the shield is hit you make a go at his mid-quarters, a jab that is quickly parried by the enemy. "Catchin.....caching...." the swords rattle as they interlock near the hilt. Both men attempt to force the footing off for the other fighter, this exchange ends with both men forcefully pushing the other away. All along Hanumal acts like he is winded, moves as if unsure of himself (again, acting the part).

 

<GM Note: More soon, do not reply yet please. I'm still computing the last portion of this three round section.>

Edited by Lubidius

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Hanumal continues to act the part of winded soldier. Appearing unsure of himself, he works his way close into the fight, then rebounding off the N'luss's shield in an effort to regain footing. As Hanumal appears to gain momentum, the N'luss performs a unique pinning move with his shield and sword, twisting both as he moves in pushing hard on Hanumal's torso. He is able to pierce Hanumal's side in a resulting strike post maneuver. Hanumal winces in pain as he takes one slashing poke to his right side. Blood spurts out. The wound is not life-threatening but painful none-the-less. He must make his move soon or this crafty N'luss may get a lucky strike.

 

Hanumal uses the wounding as a chance to continue the appearance of degrading strength and stamina. He allows the N'luss to pummel his shield, he allows himself to fall down, letting loose his grip on both the shield that protects him; and the sword that gives him any chance of victory. The sword, he makes sure falls towards the side and back of the approaching N'luss.

 

The N'luss, sensing false victory laughs. Looking up at Ur Athal, "You WOULD call this pissling a friend now wouldn't you nephew! He is nothing but a <insert LOUD unintelligible N'luss curse> rat... needing fracking extermination.." He makes his way to the cowering Tsolyani warrior. Raising his short swort, hilt to the top, he attempts to make a final plunge into Hanumal. Hanumal quickly gathers his strength and agililty. He rolls over to the right, grabbing the sword he placed ever so perfectly for the planned attack. He quickly slices into a previous wound the N'luss has on his right rear thigh. The N'luss falls to his knees shreaking in agony. He is able to still hold onto his own sword, but as he attempts to let himself turn for a quick reversing attack, Hanumal beheads the towering N'luss; taking him down to Tsolyani height in the process.... Blood gushes from the now severed neck of the N'luss. A scream is heard bellowing from the head, quickly doused as the windpipe no longer is attached to head and throat.

 

<GM Note: I will interject into some after your initial reaction postings, but otherwise we will move to the night's gala. You have approximately one Tenmre (give or take a Kiren) before the 'normal' time for a dinner here on the coast of Salarvya. You should still have time to research, shop further, find particular goods of need, return to the Nosalas for much needed healing :) or otherwise.>

Edited by Lubidius

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Hanúmal lifts the gory head of the giant, holding it aloft for the crowd. Spotting the slaver lurking in the shadows of the arena entrance, he yells "Release the slave or share this one's fate!" He winces at the wound in his side, hoping that someone can wrap the wound, lest he bleed through his tunic at tonight's celebration.

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Osure sighs at the duel's cnclusion. It had all seemed much more exciting when we was a young alcolyte in Khirgar. Maybe it is the missing panoply? This fetid pit, is certainly no hirilakte arena. Or maybe she has just wearied of the sight of blood. She turns to Kamar "Well that's done then." She watches the crowd, idly glaring at the priests of Qon from beneath her mask, and then calls out to Hanumal. "Can you make it back to the Nossalas? I would prefer not to do any doctoring in this place."

 

((OOC: I abstracted out in an earlier post that Osure spent most of the day doing research, had found some promising books, and was having them copied out so that she could do more detailed researches while the ship was under-way. I am going to assume that is either Investigation (what I think is most likely) or a default Int check, both of which are 5D for me. Here is the roll to determine whether I found good intel: Results for 5D-4W 5 5 6 4-Total: 24. I do not have anythign else I want to accomplish before the party, other than getting ready and bandaging Hanumal))))

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Kamár cheers for his comrade's victory and regrets that he did not have more money to lay down on bets. "Well struck, Kási!" he calls out, so that the captain will know that his countrymen have witnessed his triumph over the hulking barbarian.

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Hanúmal hears a voice from the crowd call out "Well struck, Kási!" He lifts the cheap blade, nodding. The priestess had said something about the Nosalas. Must get ready for the gathering tonight. And hopefully stop this bleeding. Shaking his head to clear it, Hanúmal walks to the arena gate to gather his things. He wonders for a moment if there might still be an ambush. Now that everyone in the crowd has seen him hold back and wait for a sign of weakness, the deception will not likely work twice unless the ambushers are remarkably dull-witted.

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((OOC: Can I get a sense from the GM whether Hanumal is going to faint from blood loss before making it back to the ship? I have Healing of 5D+1, surgery at 6D+1. Feel free to roll for me, I can't right now))

 

Osure turns to Kamar. "Guardsman, do you think we should escort the kasi back to the ship? I have no head for these militant activities. Are there likely to be 'hard feelings' as it were?"

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Kamár answers without hesitation, although he drops his voice to a whisper. "Without a doubt, honored priestess. These greasy Salarvyáni would knife their own mothers for a qírgal, and that's without bringing flesh-eating N'lüss cannibals into it. He may require your medicaments, as well."

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