[Game Thread] Chapter 1: Blood on the Sand

[Avelestar]

It's your average day in Soulrya, hot. It's also your average day in Karn, busy. For some of you, the hustle and bustle of a main city going about its regular business is more than a little daunting, you're used to the open sand dunes or small peaceful villages and clans. Those of you from the city, or who've spent at least some time here are more used to it, and shoulder your way through the crowd with ease, preferring the discomfort of physical contact in the heat than taking a side alley. Even the most prosperous of towns has its cutthroats, and the streets surrounding the market district are some of the worst.

Today however, you're heading towards the very center of town, to the House of Three. It's here that the three heads of the Trade Guild, Fishing Guild and the Karnas Guard meet twice a week to run the province. However, at all other times there's a host of lesser political members, clergys and the like that run the more mundane day to day things. The building itself is huge, big enough to contain the records of Karnas' entire history, along with dozens of meeting and courtrooms. From the outside it's a magnificent place, two large archways allow entrance to the House of Three, between them stands a mighty statue of Soo-Ra carved into the marble walls. On either side of the archways are two more statues, one of Jan-Sai on the left and Ka-Men on the right. To stop any political and religious backlash, all three statues are of the exact same height and craftsmanship. The common story is that each of the three was carved by a different artist, each a devoted follower of their god, wanting to make his look the best to please his deity. The result is three very beautiful statues, looking directly towards the mighty river Iona, guarding the entrance to this important place.

Upon entering, you see that the extravagant marble continues into the lobby, with large vases and paintings around the room. Unusually there's no fountain, usually a sign of rich and wealth...but Magnai Foress, head of the Fishing Guild and devout follower of Jan-Sai kicked up a stink, and it was removed. Past all the art and finery is a large desk, staffed by a pair of humans with bright smiles, behind them is a large collection of drawers and filing cabinets, all made of wood. The use of wood is meant to show the extravagant wealth of Karnas, to wow and impress dignitaries from other provinces. Most businesses and families are lucky to own a single piece of wooden furniture, everything is either steel or stone.

The male clerk at the front desk greets you kindly, and points you upstairs, downstairs being reserved for the more higher ranking officials, due to being cooler. You enter into a world of chaos the moment you reach the first floor, young children run around frantically, carrying large sheaths of paper or sometimes magic tablets that store information. The offices here and quite small, and the people inside look rather hot but work diligently none the less, signing papers and doing calculations. However you're not here to enquire about a desk job, or get water for snobby politicians, and continue down a hallway marked Resources, dodging the odd pageboy.

At the end of this is a room, the door left open and you can see into a far larger office, with a round metal table at the center. A half-dozen clay stools with straw stuffed cushions surround this table, and at the center there's a platter of cups and a jug of water. It's not cool, but its not warm either, and free water is rarely ever turned down in Soulrya. At current the room is empty, but you're sure this is where the clerk at the front desk told you to wait for...what was his name? Lyle something...regardless, you're here because you're interested in becoming a mercenary to help ease the pressure of bandit raids on outlying towns, whether that be for personal gain or because you're a good person it doesn't matter.

OOC: Welcome to the game! Please take this chance to introduce your character, give us a little description of what you look like to set it into our minds. Pets would be forced to wait outside, or left at home...especially a big ashworm, who is currently stabled elsewhere in the city. Please remember to tell me what colour you want your token to be in the OOC thread, and I need you to list your level of Heat Protection underneath the link to your character sheet.

[orangehatter]

Just a little further...

It was not easy to imagine a 226lb. man shuffling childishly through the throng of sweaty masses. From the top of the 6' 5" form, a pair of dark lips would whisper "Excuse me" in the tongue of both Humans, Asherati, and Bhuka as he tried is best to slip his wide form smoothly into the multi-racial crowd that shoved their way into the colossal building. He had only been here a few times himself, each time for the same job to repair a minor crack in the outer wall. As well, each time his light brown eyes habitually made sure to pay homage to the working hands that built the statues.

His vision, occupied by the marble images of the desert gods, temporarily broke his chair-like flow. In the span of two steps his thigh rebounded with the torso of a lingering Bhuka. "My apologies," he muttered in Bhuka as the male specimen was nearly knocked senseless by the accidental collision. The creature cursed viciously before disappearing back into the assembly of moving bodies. Wincing in regret, the giant of a man continued to press forward towards his destination.

Once inside, he let out a sigh of relief. While his claustrophobic tendency had less effect on his life than when he first moved to this city, it still managed to blossom when his mind was unable to occupy itself with constructive labor. He approached the wooden desk swiftly, his wide gait clearing the distance in mere hairs of a second, and leaned in close with his question burning brightly behind his eyes. "Ummm...hello..." His deep voice was soft as he kept his tone low. "Could you please point me...mm...to the mercenary...mmm...meeting?" It was easy enough to tell he was a little bit lost. His squared-off ears seem to twitch at every sound, and the nostrils of his bent nose flared in response to the density of his environment.

The man at the desk seemed to notice this, greeting with a warm smile while successfully stifling a giggle that threatened his lips. With efficiency he kindly adjusted the large man's destination, using small hand gestures to emphasize the clarity of his instruction. With a thank you, the clay-skinned continued on his way, heading up the stairs and breathing a sigh of relief as he expected a degree of vacancy from the crowd below. Certainly, he was wrong.

The first floor was alive with the pitter-patter of young feet racing across with errands to run. He held his breath as he took a moment to wipe the stray strands of black hair from his face. After another moment to suck fresh, humid air into his lungs, he stepped into what could most assuredly be a death trap for disaster. With surprising agility and foresight, he managed to weave and dodge between the youths with the skill of a veteran matador. His wild shuffling eventually died out as he finally reached his goal, the open door calling to him as a haven of safety.

He already felt him skin begin to cool as he stepped into the office, once again taken aback to the large boundaries of what he thought to be a much smaller room. He looked about, realizing quickly he must be the first to arrive, and walked slowly up to the table. The water was inviting and he quickly poured the refreshing life-drink into one of the clay cups set aside. He drank it down quickly and poured himself some more, carrying it around to the left side of the table. Sat now on a stool, he threw both arms down in front of him as he supported his weight on the table, relishing the respite as he gazed over his form for final approval.

His father had always told him the first impression was the most important, and he made sure to do his best to present himself as appropriate for the job. For today he wore his red caftan, the minor rips sewn up by his elderly neighbor Lu'jiena who often enjoyed playing the part of his adoptive grandmother. Atop this he wore her husband's leather ranching vest, the material faded but clean. The many holes in his off-white pantaloons were patched up with spare scraps of fabric, again a work of Lu'jiena who'd stated, "I can't have you going to these things looking like you came from the dunes of Kael-Ra!"

For today he'd forgone the homemade headband, opting instead for his neat fitting dark-brown turban. Unfortunately he could already feel his braid begin to unravel in the heat of being trapped in the fabric atop his head. Ah, forget it, he thought as he used a large hand to reach up and rip the turban from atop his head. As he shoved the thin turban into his pocket, the shadowy snake-esque braid spiraled into the air and managed to land neatly across his right shoulder.

As he waited, his hands dwarfing the clay cup between them, he thought again about what laid in store for him at this meeting. He was certainly not bloodthirsty or vengeful to occupy himself with the possibility of this defense against the raiders, but he did see it as necessary. While he would have rather been back across town working on the construction of the new bar, he chose to take the day off for something as important as this. He knew it was becoming harder to find help in fending off these desert vermin. Certainly someone had to step in, and while he didn't think of himself as exceptionally capable, he certainly was willing to try. Once this is dealt with, I can return back to making a living. He hummed softly to himself in an old Maox lullaby-the lyrics consisting of spearing out your enemies' liver-as his sandal-wrapped feet tapped in rhythm against the floor.

[chaosaccountant]

Wind moved through the streets of the city, his slight frame winding between the crowds. It was not hard - herds moved to the same pulse, whether through the filth of the city or the dust of the plains. The wind passed over and through them, and they or he would turn aside.
Where people paused to note the ragged clothes, the openly worn weapons, or the bare feet that crossed even the blazing hot stone where others avoided walking, they hurried on. There was something about him, something in the dark, sunken eyes that stared alike at man and woman, elf and dwarf, person and stone, something in the gait that stopped and started, apart from the ebb and flow of the crowd, something in the course, which led him through animal pens and over rooftops as readily as through the streets. Something that defied the city, and it's suposed control.
Now he was outside the great capitol building, squatting flat-footed on white marble that blazed with the heat of the sun. He didn't seek shade.
Beyond those three tall stones, within the stone-nest. There is where the bull of this herd is. We shall see what he has for the hyenas.
The doorway was thronged, a press of people coming and going, but there is little difficulty in the eyes of the wind. The tall stones that held no more significance for him than the dust at his feet would provide ample hand-holds.
He was oblivious to the mutterings, and then outright crys of consternation, as he scaled the great statue, lifting himself far enough above the crowd that he could easily swing around the column of the doorway and past the bottleneck at the doorway. Motion had stopped - those few who hadn't seen him were trying to find out what all the fuss was. He wove through the crowd like they were trees or stones as he came to the desk.
There, the first hint of hesitation crept into his eyes.
"I am here. Raiders... the wind sends aid."
The human behind the desk looked at him blankly, but the other was slightly quicker on the uptake, or perhaps simply more proficent in the language.
"You've come for the mercenary work? Certainly..."
Wind was guided through the maze of corridors, following mutely and calmly, treating the chaos of the offices much like business of an ants' nest or termite mound. Finally shown a room empty but for a large human, the servant departed.
Wind surveyed the room, the large man, the water on the table. He walked to that first, ignoring the cups and lifting the jug itself to his lips, then replacing the slightly less full jug on the table. Then he sat, cross-legged on the floor between two stools, directly opposite the other occupant. His face barely showed over the top of the table, less so as it slowly tilted to the side as he unashamedly studdied his compainon.

[orangehatter]

"...and the velvet tide will raise before your eyes, while your blade makes a trail from his back to thigh..."

The second round of the chorus dispersed into the air as the warrior-bred fixed his eyes on the newest arrival. Outside the plainness of his face, a jovial curiosity consumed his stare as he watched the odd Bhuka drink from the water jug. It didn't bother the young man in the least; had common etiquette allowed for such, he would have done the same thing himself. More intriguing, it appeared that this particular Bhuka was no stranger to this line of work. The scimitar was displayed for public viewing, and he was wondering if he should had brought his formidable eagle's claw with him.

Well, I guess I did.The thought turned his attention down to his calloused knuckles. The skin of his hands were rough and dry, especially since yesterday's stone sanding. Idly, he removed his hands from the cup and rubbed them gingerly together, circumstantially glancing up.

To find him staring into the eyes of an inquisitive Bhuka.

In fact the eyes were nearly the only thing he could see. Apparently the creature wasn't preferential to the stools provided. Nearly simultaneously, as the curtain of silence hung between them, he leaned his head to the side just as the Bhuka did. He was not unaccustomed to Bhuka studiousness, yet something deep laid behind this one's eyes. Determination? Mourning? Conffusion?

The small giant finally decided to try and break the ice a little. With a timid smile, he craned his neck and offered a small welcome in the Bhuka tongue. "Hello, Bhuka-friend. My name is Cheveyo Dezba." Had his formality been so good half the time in Common, he may have been considered a nobleman.

[chaosaccountant]

Wind watched the large human as it bared it's teeth slightly. He slowly shifted his head to the other side, apparently contemplating the greeting, then carefully balanced his hands, fingers laced, on the table, and placed his chin on the hands, craning his neck slightly.
"I am not Bhuku. I am the wind." He was silent again for a moment, studying the muscle-bound man from the new vantage - the lines of caluses, the slightly sunken knuckles. "What do you fight for so often? Do you hunt, or for a mate?"

[orangehatter]

Cheveyo was completely intrigued by the creature's, well, the wind's moniker. He remained amiable, retaining his smile as his bulky forearms returned to rest on the table. He leaned in to support his weight as his hands once again hid the clay cup. "My father was a fighter, but I am no warrior. I hunt when needed, and I do not search for a mate. Yet." Cheveyo had lost his innocence to a single woman, in a rare night of drunken bravado in younger days. It left little pride with him while he found new respect for a woman's skin.

He reassessed his company, then continued. "I do train often in the footsteps of my father out of tradition. Are you a warrior, Wind?"

[chaosaccountant]

So, this one's father was a herd leader, and tussles with others to test them and himself, but he is not yet ready to challenge his father. Perhaps he hunts the hyenas to prove himself.
Wind lowered his head from the table, so that it was his flat nose rather than his chin that rested on the table's edge.
"I am the wind. Sometimes I kill, scouring with grit or burrying with sand or drying the life out. Sometimes I cool the day, or bring rain."
The words were coming easier now - the patterns of speach more natural. But the room was getting close - it was too small, too square, and too enclosing. He stood abruptly, careless of the stool he knocked over, and when to the window, pressing his face to the screen to see better.
"What do you see, river-clay?"

[orangehatter]

"Mmm." The Bhuka spoke in an eclectic tongue. Cheveyo saw it more as a puzzle rather than poetry. Wind came off the floor suddenly, Cheveyo responding with the widening of his eyes.
"What do you see, river-clay?"
While the creature gazed out the window the young man slowly moved out his seat with a grin and moved around to the other side of the table to put the stool back upright. The question perplexed him. Is he talking to me? My name's not rive-oooooh. His skin. His flesh. The muscles formed over his bone. I get it. His smile broadened as he deduced the answer.
"I see people in need of help. That's why I'm here." He decided to remain in the Common speech, realizing Wind was more than capable of understanding. "My life here is petty if I considered leaving this job to everyone else. I am...a part of these sands." He attempted to take on some of the same qualities as the Bhuka's frame of mind. "My home cannot...be harmed...by the-err-foul wind of these desert raiders." He moved back to his seat in his neutral position, studying Wind as openly as he had before.

[tilbert]

The small clay bowl produces a faint smacking sound as the thin-boned hands pull it out of jug of water. While doing so the rusty-colored hands carefully avoid to touch the water. Probably a question hygiene. A determined motion raises the bowl to a pair of dry and chapped lips. Only small sips disappear in the mouth of a face with striking features and pearly opalescent eyes. A couple of drops run down at the outside of the bowl as it is put down. The bowl is halfway to the platter, when the drops touch the skin. But instead of moistening the skin, the drops are absorbed into the skin. The hand slightly twitches and almost drop the bowl. While regaining the grip, the hands display fine webs between the fingers. The wiry person, robed in tight leather clothes, utters some unintelligible words. Underneath his wide cloak some shimmering objects can be noticed. only the dose permits something not to be poisonous - that's so ture. Taharqua smiles as the memory of his mentor and distant ancestor Sahitep flashes back to his mind.

There's an Bhuku he didn't notice earlier, but now he is talking to a giant-like human. The impressive stature instantly caught his attention - few people of the waste grow this tall, a question of heat management of the body. He address both of them a short break in their talk "May Ka-Men bless your travels and Jan-Sai gift you with water every day." He slightly bows to both of them "My name is Taharqua. On account, you are waiting in this room, we will be fellows in close future."

[chaosaccountant]

"You see your heard, your pack. They are a part of you?" The wiry figure nodded, as if he understood something, but his eyes were fixed beyond the city.
"If you are part of the sands, then nothing is... petty." He rolled the word around his mouth, silently tasting it, though he never looked around. "You are the dust gods, as I am the passage of their fall."
The sound of more water being poured drew him from the window, his deep eyes fixing on the latest to enter the room with the same intent stare. This one wears his second skin tight to his body, and drinks like a hamster.
Feeling more confident, he responded to the tall, reedy creature. "I am the wind. As the waste wills, I shall blow beside you for a time." He raised on leather-skinned hand to gesture to the window. "What do you see?"

[tilbert]

The small one's words sound funny, nonetheless there's wisdom in the carefully chosen words. Taharqua feels compelled to follow the follow the Bhuku's request and steps to the window. The bright sun dazzles him for a second. He shades his eyes and takes the view of the Karnas in.

"Whatever I choose to see." Taharqua slowly turn back to the Bhuku "Wind, that's and interesting name. What do you see?

[chaosaccountant]

"Choose? Be careful that you see not merely what you wish." At his question in return, wind turned, a slight sparkle in his deep-set eyes.
"There is a maze of burrows and canyons, and the herd huddles in them for protection. The river rises in the sun, and brings life for the evening, or is stolen from the earth. The air dances with the dust.
"I see the wrath of gods, and their fall, and their final gift to us. I see life, and I see death, and all this is."

[tilbert]

"My mentor told me once: 'A man can hardly stand to see the true reality, as the gods do see.'. Isn't our perception ever the interpretation of the reality done by our mind? I'm aware, that my mind distorts the reality, to make the world fit better into my imagination. Thus if I want to see some that cheers me up, I adept to see alike and if I need to get angry, I do the same - just another direction.
May I assume, by the way you described your view, that your life was ever close to nature?"

[orangehatter]

"You see your heard, your pack. They are a part of you?"

Herd? Pack?

Somehow, Cheveyo could relate to how Wind spoke. The massed gatherings of people actually did begin to resemble, in his mind, a herd of camel. The epiphany tickled his senses in an...unusual way. Perhaps the idea that man and animal could be so similar bothered him.

"If you are part of the sands, then nothing is... petty. You are the dust gods, as I am the passage of their fall."

Oooooo boy. The time of revelation had ended. Cheveyo was simply confused. The work-horse of a man was not used to his mind being pressed in such ways. As his tongue just began to trip and fall in response, it was fortunate that another visitor had entered. An Asherati at that.

The creature was nearly as tall as he was, but it was quite usual for a specimen of their kind. Seems male enough too. His pearl-esque eyes were striking, a window of faint colors cast in the light of the sun pouring through the window. "May Ka-Men bless your travels and Jan-Sai gift you with water every day. My name is Taharqua. On account, you are waiting in this room, we will be fellows in close future." Cheveyo stayed in his seat and nodded his head in greeting, punctuated with a short wave of his hand. He sipped gingerly at his cup while the unusual pair began to converse about deep things.

It would make for a unique group of mercenaries.

[Silk]

'I hate... city's.' Emeria thought that as she wound her way through the press of hurrying people, a glare here and there intimidating people out of her way. She had always thought of city's as large camps of wide spaced tents and a few permanent structures for gatherings. She could not have been more wrong. 'Yet another childhood dream gone. Little pieces of me are being shed and cut out as the years pass..., just as my clan was. The depressing turn of Emeria's thoughts made her grip the leather wrapped hilt of her scimitar like she was going to use it and her next glare sent a young man running. Stopping she closed her eye's and sighed, it was over two years since that day and it still bothered her deeply. Of course, having ones people slaughtered tends to make them angry from time to time. Easing the grip upon her sword hilt and taking a deep breath Emeria opened her eye's to find people staring at her and a off to one side a silk merchant's guards were standing at the ready with hands on their weapons. She frowns at the attention and moves on with people readily moving out of her way. But that only lasted until she reached people who did not see what happened and then Emeria had to go back to intimidating people with body language and a scowl.

'I should have brought Purja along. Most of these soft skins would readily move for a growling Puma.' The thought brought a very slight smile to Emeria's face until someone nearly knocked her and several other pedestrians over with a large rolled up rug. She scowled at the indifferent Dwarf and others around her shouted at him as she moved on. She thought about making her way through the back ally's again but the satisfaction of chopping off a few fingers during that fight with the bandit and the few coppers she got from him while he was cowering was not worth the effort. The few people that got to know her always told Emeria that her views on thievery was skewed. "Being indifferent to people who steel from others but considering it a personal insult when it is done to you and then steeling from them is not rational." To such comments she would only shrug and say, "Well, rational or not, it works for me." Such entertaining thoughts were banished from her as Emeria came to the plaza over looked by the 'House of Three'.

Pushing through the crowd with seeming haste, Emeria bowed as best as she could to the statue of Soo-Ra with the press of people around her and then quickly entered the building to get way from the croud. Much to her displeasure the inside was almost as crowded as it was outside. But as she made her way through the building, asking directions of the youngsters as she went, Emeria found it much easier to walk here then outside and quickly realized that everyone was being careful not to bump into others as they did not want to risk dropping their large sheaths of paper or stone tablets.

Even though it was easier going, Emeria still sighed when she entered the room where she was to wait only to find it nearly as crowded as the hall. 'At least these people are not walking around like they are late for their own execution.' The sardonic thought erases the scowl from her sun burnt brown face and brings back the very faint smile to her lips. Emeria pauses in the doorway to glance at the Asheratis, Bhuka, and Human with her dark blue eyes before she removes her turban and shakes the sand out of it that, even in the city, seems to get into everything. Pushing the slightly damp cloth behind the sheath to her Kukri, Emeria runs her hand over the rows of small braid's that adorn her scalp and then down to the long pig-tail braid that all the smaller ones are tied into. Pulling the pig-tail braid from around her neck, where it fell when she removed her turban, she flicked it behind her where it reaches down to the middle of her back. As Emeria moves to the pitcher of water it is noted by observers that flashes of light off shiny metal under her flowing outer robe of grey-brown indicate she is wearing a chain shirt of some kind. The placement of her outer robe over the armor is obviously not meant to conceal her armor but to prevent direct sunlight from heating the metal.

Reaching gracefully down and picking up a cup in a ritualistic manner Emeria recites a prayer as she holds the cup over the pitcher of water, "Thank you Soo-Ra for the world." She slowly dips the cup into the water and raises it above the pitcher and mutters another prayer, "Thank you Soo-Ra for wisdom." Then leaning over the pitcher so any drops of water from the cup fall into the pitcher she drinks slowly. Once she is done Emeria still holds the cup over the pitcher and speaks the last stanza of the prayer, "Thank you Soo-Ra for life's gift." She sits down the cup without any embarrassment for her ritualistic prayers and glances once more at the rooms occupants before giving a small bow in greeting, "Hello."