Partings - A Dark Sun Story

The following story takes place about three months before the start of Chapter 4 of our Dark Sun game.

                My best friend is leaving. I have no idea when I will see him again. No matter where I look in this small guest room, I am confronted with the evidence of this. His duffle bag is half packed, half unpacked, but I see order within the apparent chaos. His most prized possessions are in the bag, secure, ready for tomorrow. The rest is careful chaos so when he fights with C’aro and storms away it will seem random. I am the one that asked him to do this, and now I cannot help but feel I am losing a vital part of myself.

                “Zarnian,” Jingleheimer is looking at me with that easy smile of his. I instantly smile in response, unable to stop even if I wanted to. “Are you ok? You came in here and froze. Were you frozen by my magnificence?” He raises a brow playfully as he strikes a pose. Truthfully he is in wonderful shape. Though his right arm has lost some muscle tone, the rest of him is becoming even more formed to compensate.

                I just raise my eyebrow skeptically, because this is what he expects, then I can’t help but laugh. When I do, he does. Everything is right again. He has a way of making this so. He is the only one who does this for me. I try to push those thoughts to the back of my mind. “Tomorrow approaches,” I say, a statement too obvious. I follow up with the first thing on my mind. “Go over the preparations with me again.”

                He rolls his eyes. He has been over this with me more than once, but he knows I need to hear it this night of all nights to calm my nerves. “Tomorrow starts off normally. Then, C’aro and I get in an argument. I call him fat.” I crack a smile again. He mulls this over a moment. “No, C’aro isn’t really fat. Portly. I’ll call him portly. It’s a new word I picked up with all the training on talking better and writing dune code.”

                “So you call C’aro portly,” I nudge, flinching at his grammar.

                “Yep.” He beams. “That part is going to be fun. There just aren’t that many times when you can call your boss a whole sack full of shit and have a reason.” I nod my agreement. “Then, when I go tell the guys what happens, Giffen, DeMatteis, Maguire and Kirby get so pissed they quit with me. We go to the merchant square before word gets out that we’re fired and we take our codlu, along with a wagon of stone that Maribel sold C’aro.”

                “Thieves,” I feign scandal.

                “We scrape together our money and we go to Sharp’s where we used to house our codlu and we buy a few more for the road. Teixeira and Bradstreet hear that we are leaving town and then they come with us. We leave town and then I send a note to Marishika telling her to come meet me and then we have the House of the Jingling Belt.”

                I nod. That’s the plan. I’ve used my spies and go betweens to make sure that everyone involved is loyal, and all but Marishika loyal to me. I cannot and will not have Jingleheimer compromised. Even the thought of the danger he could be in makes me freeze. I know how to solve this. I already saw the mug partially wrapped in his bag. Without asking, I walk over and retrieve it. It is a bright light blue glazed ceramic mug with the lightning bolt of the Sky Followers etched in it. I sit on the floor, before setting that cup before me and taking its twin from my shoulder bag. Finally, I take out one of the bottles of mescal I brought and fill each mug. Jingleheimer sits on the floor with me and I hand him his mug before I raise mine. “To the House of the Jingling Belt! Long may it trade.”

                Lifting his mug high, he salutes, “To seeing you naked at Denning’s wedding where we got these horrible things,” he drinks, closing his eyes. “This is one of the many good things about drinking with you. You always buy the expensive stuff.”

                “I drink rarely. I may as well not waste my time. And, Talmeza made these herself,” I state, not out of defense for the ugly mugs but because his comment about my nudity makes me uncomfortable and I am trying to deflect it. I take a longer sip than perhaps I should. The familiar sweet liquid burns as it trickles down into my belly. Suddenly, I laugh. Seeing Jingle’s quizzical expression I explain, “I could have lived without seeing Ohzon Sky Finger, I mean Sky Father, prancing around naked the whole ceremony.”

                Jingleheimer laughs at that, really laughs. It is warm and welcoming like hot stew after a long hungry day. “Well, it wasn’t all Ohzon’s fault. It was cold that morning and the cold tends to do horrible things to the male body.”

                “You didn’t have any problems,” I blame the mescal. The words are gone and I can’t get them back. Instead, I drink more.

                He pretends to be scandalized, clutching his arm over his already covered chest. “I am shocked at you! Staring at my private area.”

                “Like I could help it!” The words are already gone, I may as well make it sound as if I intended them. “You could have just told me you were part half giant.”

                He bows slightly, pretend shame replaced with some actual pride. “My cousin Barok has the Rainbow Sword. I have the Steel Cudgel.”

                I can see someone being knocked out with that thing, but we have to stop talking about his penis, because I am going to end up blushing like some stupid slave girl… instead I change the subject, drinking more first to make a delineation in the conversation and because I need more to drink so I can get the image of Jingleheimer naked out of my mind. I have to replace that image with something sweet, innocent. “I saw you talking with Timmuth earlier.”

                “He’s  a good boy, for being a murderous little shit.” I flinch. I am the one that gave him that title, back when he was Bay’s. It is one of the many things I now feel badly about. “He told me that you promised to buy him an iron dagger if he trains hard every day, and introduced me to his new telepathic tutor, Darius.”

                “The tutor is almost a boy himself, but Timmuth likes him and is taking to his lessons. He trains for 2-3 hours a day with Darius, trains 2-3 hours with Nathan or myself to improve his weapon skill and after the evening meal I teach him reading, writing, and dune trader code.”

                “That’s a heavy schedule.” He purposely keeps his tone light, but I know there is more to the statement.

                “He needs to be ready for what may come, with our without me. If I fall, he has to have the best possible chance. I owe him that, I owe him so much more.” When I drink, I find my hands are shaking. “When we escaped Nibenay, I said I couldn’t watch him. Bay said he would. Timmuth deserved me to be there for him. He was an innocent little boy. It wasn’t his fault that his family was who they were. It wasn’t his fault that his brother was a bastard, his mother almost killed me and his father not only sold Malik, he…” I feel Jingleheimer’s hand on my shoulder. I don’t need to say more. He can see through me. He always does. I drink again to calm the pain of the memory. “Because I was selfish, he had his arm broken in combat and ended up a slave. He now has scars on his little body from Drugar beating him. Did you know that while he was a slave some other bastard slave tried to rape Timmuth and when he fought back and bit his attacker, he was beaten for attacking another slave?”

                “Fuck,” Jingle hisses, but he his rubbing my shoulder. “You can’t blame yourself for not raising Timmuth immediately. Hey, look at me,” I was staring into my mescal. Meeting his gaze is not easy, but I force myself. “You sacrificed everything to rescue that boy. His father…” he pauses, not continuing. I am grateful he didn’t finish that thought. “And all you see is the innocent child and not the son of the man that hurt you. You are the most amazing and occasionally crazy person I know.”

                “Thank you,” it sounds stupid. I blame the drink. I drink more to chase away the warm feeling that has nothing to do with alcohol. I have to get away from this topic, too.

                Reaching into my bag I pull out two bundles wrapped in cloth. I hand him the smaller one first. He takes it, a small smile spreading over his face. “You got me cloth?”

                “Open it and stop being difficult,” I go to drink but my mug is empty. I fix that and top his mug off, too.

                He unwraps the material, balancing it on his lap. Inside are 8 coins, all unique. His smile is genuine now. “Where did you get these?”

                “Around,” meaning the elven market and I also have had my guards scour for them on caravan trails. They still are looking, with a small bounty for finding nice coins. “For your belt.”

                “I’ve been working on it.” He points down. The belt and coins are all new, not the loving, worn belt he had when we met. That is gone, destroyed in the raid and battle that took the use of his arm and almost took his life. I looked everywhere to find some scrap of it, but I only was able to find a single worn coin in the elven market a while ago. He keeps that one safe. Since the others are gone he least I can do I find some new coins for him, and get revenge on the bastard that did this to him.

                In the second package is a set of crodlu reins with coins attached, a mirror for his belt. “For Ten-Bit!” his masterwork war crodlu stallion. His eyes shone with joy as he made them jingle. “Thank you.”

                “Of course,” I smile and tip my head. I am trying to keep this casual, to keep everything bottled in one more night. I can lose it after he’s gone, but for now I need to keep this light…

                As he stares at the reins and coins his smile fades, replaced with something dark and serious. He sets them down gently on the bed before taking a very long drink of his mescal. I brace myself for whatever I might hear next. “Zarnian, there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you. You promoted me from some caravan guard to captain and now Dune Trader, no one else would do that. But, I want you to do something for me.”

                “Anything,” I try to make it sound less eager than it is.  As with other things tonight, I fail.

                “Look me in the eye and promise me that you will stay the fuck away from that one eyed son of a bitch guard captain.” I open my mouth to protest but he glares at me. He knows my inner heart better than anyone else. Then the glare is gone, replaced with a hollow sadness which stabs through me harsher than any spear ever could. He drinks again, before meeting my gaze. His eyes look through me; he is rewatching the raid. “He just stormed in, they all did. We were prepared but…” We haven’t talked about the raid before and we won’t now. He stops. I understand. Some events you just don’t want to share even with the ones you care for the most. After a pause, he sees me again. He is back in the room with me. “I don’t want you fighting him. I know you’re the best around, I know how well you can fight and I am here to tell you that he is almost as good as you, if not as good. Plus, he’ll have a lot more people with him. If he… if he hurt you because you were trying to get revenge for me because basically I couldn’t do my fucking job in the first place… fuck!”

                “Jingle…”

                “No, Zarnian, I mean it. If something happened to you, especially because of me…” He looks down into his mug now, brooding. He sips his drink as I do mine, waiting for the pain to lessen. That takes more time than we have tonight. He knows it. Taking some deep breaths he calms down. His smile returns but it is sad, forced, and pained. “Let’s talk about something less traumatic. I heard you and Trakas were officially done this time.”

                I laugh, because this is no less charged or uncomfortable, but I understand it is him putting up a shield for himself. “Yes, this time it is permanent. We are friends, and our children like brothers.”

                “What finally did it?” Now the sparkle is really returning to his eyes, the playful mischief that makes me smile. “Was it that he kidnapped our oracle and lied to you about it? Was he really banging Cael after all? Did he snore? Was it because he was an inch shorter than you?”

                “Partially, not to my knowledge, not unless he was very tired, and I didn’t care at all.” The list does the trick and he laughs. All the residual tension is gone. To celebrate I drink more. I am starting to feel the effects. My hands and toes feel tingly. The fact I just thought the word ‘tingly’ tells me I am getting drunk.

                Jingleheimer must see me pondering the state of my own inebriation because he asks, “Are you ok?”

                I nod, feeling the warmth on my cheeks, the smile on my lips. Good. If I can get wasted tonight I can go without saying what I can’t. I can pretend everything is ok. I can pretend this isn’t his last night. I feel the smile start to fade. I drink more. I am becoming numb but my inner armor is starting to fall away. I close my eyes. Tonight of all nights I need that armor.

                “Are you sure you’re ok?” He sounds concerned and with my eyes closed far away. How much did I drink again? “I shouldn’t have brought up Trakas. Fuck.”

                “No, it’s…” I stop. Speaking is bad. I am going to shatter my shell.

                His tone switches, tender now. I can feel his hand on my wrist. There are no words to describe the comfort it brings. I am going to talk, but I need to hide the full truth. I remember my training through the alcohol mist and bury the truth in a lie. “I am going to miss you.” This is true. Opening my eyes I look at him and almost break. The drink had made me weak. That rhymed. Fuck. “Before, we were separated but at least you would come sometimes with the caravans. I could look forward to that. Now, we won’t see each other for months, or more and I just…” My hands are fists and I am shaking. I spill some of the mescal, so I sit the mug on the floor. I am fucking this up. I know the booze is causing me to be weak, but I am so scared I grab the mug again and drink more. Anything to numb myself.

                “Is that it?” His brow is raised quizzically. He knows there is more, of course, I am acting like an idiot. He is concerned, and I am on the verge of collapsing inside.

                “There were two reasons I broke up with Trakas.” The words are coming now, running like water from a broken pot. Jingleheimer takes a drink from his own mug, bracing himself. “We have different lives in different places. I cannot be with someone where I am second or third.”

                “And?”

                “There was someone else.”

                “Malik?”

                “Yes, but no. Once Malik died, it made me think and my eye turned toward someone else.”

                “Oh.” A shadow flutters across his expression, unreadable. “Does this guy even know you have feelings for him?”

                I shake my head, which makes me even dizzier. The room will not stop spinning now. My hair slaps into the mescal and flicks my cheek with some of the liquor. I am aware of this but I have no idea how to stop it in my current condition.

                He drinks more, but the mug does not hide the frown pulling at the corners of his lips. Something is bothering him. Probably, he is annoyed that I had to bring this up right before he leaves. I am an idiot. He breathes, measuring his words. When he speaks there is a note of defeat to his voice. “You should tell him. You fucked that part up with Trakas. Just tell this guy or better yet grab him and kiss him.”

                Carn trained my body to react without my mind. My body does that now. Suddenly, I am kissing Jingleheimer. He tastes like mescal and spice. For a few seconds, he is frozen. I start to pull away, ashamed that I have misread this as badly as I did the situation with Trakas, but then he grabs the back of my head and pulls me even closer. I crawl into his lap while we are still kissing. I want him and I can feel he wants me, too. This feels so right, even though I am to dizzy to see, made more so by our passion. The room is getting darker and darker. I don’t care. All I want is to get his pants undone, but my fingers fumble with the knotted string, which will not loosen. I climb from his lap and concentrate now, but I can’t see anymore. This is hard. Then his hand is on my wrists, stilling them. I try to ask him why but everything is fading.

 *****

                The next morning I wake in my own bed, Timmuth asleep in the cot next to mine. My head throbs and my mouth his dry as the desert itself. When I sit up, I am stabbed through the head with a dagger. It feels that way. What happened last night? I remember getting drunk. I remember kissing Jingleheimer…

                I kissed Jingleheimer.

                I bury my face in my hands, the shame washing over me. I didn’t want him to know. Now, he probably hates me. I have loved three men in my life, and I have ruined it with them all. I could not get the sword to Malik in time to save him, I could not make it work with Trakas, and now I practically raped Jingleheimer when he has no interest, or does he?

                Other memories of last night come like ghosts. I remember a strong arm around my shoulder helping me down the hall to my room, then into my bed. Lips on mine, soft and sweet. A promise that if I still was interested when I was sober, he would wait. Then weight of something being pressed into my palm and my fingers being closed around it. I open my left hand to find Jingleheimer’s coin there, the only one we saved from his original belt.

                I breathe and allow myself to smile. I pour a small glass of water from my nightstand and raise it silently into the air. To the House of the Jingling Belt, long may it trade but more importantly to Jingleheimer, may he be with me soon.

 

               

               

Dark Sun Game Notes - Chapter 4, Game 2

Dark Sun Chapter 4 Notes – Game 2

 

Meeting with a King

                The House of the Painted Eye gathered their forces quickly as they had to leave for the meeting with Tithian almost immediately. Zarnian ordered her personal guards and five others to come with them. Only she, C’aro and Barok went inside, but Zarnian had to leave her weapons outside the Golden Tower. Cael turned into a kestrekel and Akkadian tried to stay inconspicuous as they melded into the crowd and waited. Strabbo Ianto arrived on time and was allowed inside, but Thaxos Vordon arrived insultingly late with twenty guards, four half-giants, a psionicist, and a young woman named Talera Vordon, though he ordered her to wait outside.

                Inside the chamber Bay was sitting with Esticles and Meticles as the nobles responsible for the mines. Templar Borgen was there, as was the head of the blacksmiths. Barok was summoned to stand behind Tithian, who also had defilers, psionicists, and guards inside the chamber. The King greeted the heads of House as the three Houses who sold iron in Tyr. This was the first time the House of the Painted Eye received permission to sell iron in Tyr so C’aro was happy.

                The king explained that once the Tyrian army won, the mines would reopen. Instead of the 50% cut the houses received before of the iron profits, now they would only get 20% if they bought quantities of 100 pounds or more, and 15% if they bought less than that. The city itself would also sell iron directly. The discount was only offered to those in the room as a courtesy and he wanted an answer on who was interested immediately. C’aro jumped on the offer, saying yes, but Ianto, who looked shaky, said he needed time to think about it. Vordon was incensed, and rejected the King’s deal since it was Vordon soldiers that patrolled the city. The King ordered every Vordon solider from the city and to the battle. When Thaxos refused, Tithian had a psionicist float over a box that contained the head of the Vordon agent who was planning the King’s demise. He barred Thaxos from leaving until every Vordon guard was outside the city walls.

                Ianto, C’aro and Zarnian left, but Barok was asked to stay behind. As Zarnian was leaving she saw the one eyed man who maimed Jingleheimer in command of the Vordon guards, but knew that was not the right moment to challenge him.

Thirty minutes later Thaxos signed over command of his guards to Tithian but was still held until they all left. Bay volunteered himself to go fight for the city and defend the mine. When he did, Esticles and Meticles had to follow suit, which angered them both.

After the chamber had cleared of all but Barok, Tithian asked Barok to use his influence and his Citizens on Patrol to control the warrens. If he did, there was a box of money waiting for him. Barok agreed to help the city, at which time Tithian mentioned that there was also a man speaking out against the King in the Merchant Square and since this was a time of war, and leadership needed to be clear, would Barok take care of the problem as well? Barok said he would.

 

Plans within Plans

                Back at the House, everyone met to decide who would go to war and who would stay. Bay had already volunteered, but he was joined by Akkadian, Cael, and Barok. Only Zarnian felt her place was at the House commanding the troops. She did offer to find 20% of her guard to volunteer for the war, twice the original agreed amount.

                C’aro noted that Strabo Ianto seemed to be scared and broke. He asked Zarnian to use her intrigue organization to spy on Ianto to determine his debts and assets so C’aro could simply buy House Ianto.  Zarnian agreed to speak to Aein on the matter.

                The issue of the Carrion King was still undecided, and since most of the group were leaving for war the next day they decided to attack that night. Akkadian floated the idea of conscripting some of the Carrion King’s followers into the service of the army. Bay converted one of his closed wagons into a patty wagon. Zarnian did not like the idea of marching in, remembering the archers the Carrion King employed, so she asked Cael if there was a way through UnderTyr. Cael did know of one, but it would not fit Barok. Zarnian also felt there were not enough troops so she decided to ask Ohzon the Skyfather to provide some Sky Followers, for a reasonable fee.

                Just as they decided to tell Mitzrah of the plan, he appeared with news of his own. The Tunnel Lord had been spotted in the warrens. Though everyone was concerned, it was decided to deal with one problem at a time, and take out the Carrion King. Mitzrah reported that he had as many as 70-80 fighting men, his numbers swollen in recent weeks. Then Zarnian knew she needed extra troops and left for Ohzon.

 

The Sky Father

                Barok and Zarnian arrived at Ohzon’s compound. After having to wade through several layers of followers, they were finally allowed to see Ohzon. He was less than thrilled to see them since he was still frustrated by Zarnian’s request to the Oracle to stay in the care and custody of “The Bug”. Once she made her request for followers, offering Ohzon a donation to the church and his followers a chance to loot the Carrion King’s men, the Sky Father was still unmoved. Then, she related Vordon’s fall from grace and newfound vulnerability. Then, Ohzon told her to go speak to his followers. Those that wanted to go could. Zarnian made a speech, gathered 30 followers and Barok’s Half Giant parents, then went to do the raid.

 

Over and Under

                While Bay, Zarnian, Cael and Akkadian went through the tunnels, Barok, his parents and the Sky Followers stayed on the surface and approached the Carrion King’s lair in the warrens. They were spotted and the Carrion King took his men out to talk to Barok and his parents. Meanwhile, the rest of the group burst out of the tunnel, walked through the basement up into the bar, and found it deserted of all but the Bartender. Zarnian rushed the Carrion King, stabbing him from behind with her spear. Bay also rushed out, but Akkadian and Cael stayed inside. Cael went invisible and Akkadian used his bow to shoot a few.

                Carrion King ordered his men to attack and disarm Zarnian. Several mobbed her, and tore the spear from her grasp, but it was dropped by her hand. She picked it up and fought, but was surrounded. As everyone battled, Bay took two prisoners, Akkadian was rushed by a drugged out woman, and Cael used her spells. Barok saw the Carrion King was wounded but not ready to fall, so he threw the Rainbow Sword, piercing the Carrion King. Cael followed this with a flame burst which burned part of his face, killing him.

                When the Carrion King fell, his men fled. The group was able to gather six for conscription, and they killed another 10. Then, they called Mitzrah to come in. When he arrived, they made him a gift of the Carrion King’s head, and the area of the Warrens he controlled, as well as the drug, prostitution and gambling trade in the area. In return, Zarnian demanded 10% to the House of the Painted Eye. Mitzrah agreed.

                Because Bay and Barok were wounded, Cael took them to Rhiannon. Because Bay was flexing, and Rhiannon can hold a grudge, she actually made his wounds worse, but she healed Barok. Then, Cael told her that she was going off to war.

                With their prisoners and the guards who volunteered ready, the group rested for the night before leaving for the front line of the war the next morning.

 

Dark Sun Game Notes 3 25 13, Game 1 of Chapter 4

Dark Sun Notes Chapter 4 - Game 1

 

Six months have passed in Athas since the fall of Kalak, and the core of people who helped kill the tyrant have taken very different paths.

 

Ohzon – After witnessing his friend’s decision to encourage the oracle of the House of the Painted Eye to stay under the Avangion’s care, Ohzon left the House of the Painted Eye, focusing his time and energy on his own religion.

 Barok - The Colossus of Tyr continued to grow train his loyal gladiators at his School for Gladiators who Fight Good and Want to do Other Things Good, Too. In return, those gladiators under Barok’s behest started training groups of Tyrian citizens to defend themselves and their own areas of the warrens.

Bay – Now Lord Varius Damolces, Bay continued to tend to his own estate, and his power in the Senate. After brining the matter of reopening the mines onto the senate floor, he has been placed in charge of this matter along with Esticles and Meticles.

Cael – Cael studied relics at the ancient site known as the ‘Wet Spot’ by the guards, due to the never ending well there. She came back to Tyr after a time and started a relationship with Rhiannon, a healer in the Warrens. Partially due to these events, and  the prospect of assisting in the death of more sorcerer kings, Cael is less angry though still focused on both killing Astinicus and joining the avangion.

Zarnian – Zarnian and Trakas ended their romance to focus on their friendship after he was recalled by the avangion. Focusing on building and protecting the House of the Painted Eye, Zarnian has been leading not only the guards and the spies, but training to become a Dune Trader.

Akkadian – A new addition to the House, the Urikite was rescued in the city of his origin as a runaway slave. After Mak’ti rescued him, he swore 10 years service to the House. He is a telekinetic specialized in destruction of objects with his mind in addition to being a talented archer.

 

Zarnian

                After being called to C’aro office, she had to wait outside while C’aro concluded his business with the new Templar of the Merchant district, Amos. C’aro bribed the templar with very expensive mescal and a sack of coin. The templar was grateful for the gifts, especially as times are hard. He complained of not being able to take tax from Thaxos Vordon since he is providing troops for the city, and those guard’s lack of respect. Due to the war, the merchants are broke. After finishing his drink he was left and Zarnian was called in. As part of her training to become a Dune Trader, he asked her to buy him an Inix on a Stick for 2 bits, instead of the going rate of 3 bits from the vender. She left and went to the vender, but after her initial negotiations failed, she struck a bargain that if she could bring him business from her guards, she could get a reduced price on her own food. Going back to the House she gave 5 of her guards three bits each and marched them over with her to buy Inix on a Stick, and bought C’aro’s for 2 bits. Going back with her prize, she was pleased but C’aro accused her of cheating, because she gave her own money to the guards. He refused to clear her as a Dune Trader until she started bringing money into the House.

 

Barok

                Barok went to place his handprint on the pots that C’aro has hired children of the warrens to make. When he entered, the children were glad to see him but he noted there were less than normally showed up for work. The overseer, Vidar said that more and more children were not appearing for work. When Barok went to the parents of one of the children in the warrens he discovered that the Carron King was shaking down families for money and making children work for him for free.

 

Bay

                Bay was having a late night meeting with Esticles and Meticles as they worked to reopen the still closed mines. Templar Borgen was still in charge of the mines even though several people a previous senate meeting spoke out against him. Though the nobles had been trying to get an audience with Borgen for weeks they were rejected every time.  Seeing that the templar’s light was on, Bay suggested they go to his office. After Bay got them past security, and into see Borgen, Damocles suggested that a noble presence at the mines would assure the safety of them and help them reopen. Templar Borgen revealed that he  could not reopen the mines until the war had passed.

 

Cael –

                Back in Tyr, Cael was busy brewing, but then was called into a meeting by the Veiled Alliance. They were trying to decide how many wizards to send to the war effort. Though Cael’s friend Bellesaria voted to send 10, Cael voted to send only 5. After, Cael asked her ally why she could vote to send more into jeopardy, to which Bellesaria answered she did not help kill one dictator to allow another to take over the city. After this information, Cael was rattled and went to Rhiannon. The healer informed her that the Blue Lipped Boy, Astinicus’ son was spotted around the warrens in the same area as the Carrion King. Though pressed, that was all she knew though the healer offered to have people keep an eye out for the boy.

 

Akkadian –

                Akkadian found himself helping out the war effort by briefing the Tyrians on Urikite tactics. His templar contact asked why the Urikite would turn on his own people to which Akkadian answered he had some scores to settle. When pressed on was it worth betraying all his people to get to a few Akkadian answered it was. After the meeting, the Urikite went to the School of Thought to register his talents. On the way back he went to a bar and drank with House Vordon soliders who did not know that he worked for the House of the Painted Eye. They extended Akkadian an offer of employment which he declined. In this process, Akkadian did learn that there was rising anti-Urikite sentiment so he went to the market after the meeting to buy a hat. There, he saw a young Urikite boy, Urian, being beaten. After saving the youth’s life, the boy pledged his life and service to Akkadian.

 

The Group –

                After the group reassembled at the House of the Painted Eye they discovered that a set of gifts arrived from the Avangion or “the Bug” as he is known by the group. An orb that limited telepathic scans was kept in a ‘war room’ so that everyone could use it while planning. Also, a coffer with a magically large secret compartment was kept by C’aro. Cael received 5 arcane scrolls, Barok a rune which allowed his sword to cut through armor with greater ease, Bay a psionic boosting crystal necklace, and Zarnian received a device to help her project her voice on the battlefield. She also received a packet of seeds from Trakas.

               

Once the loot was divided, Mitzrah the Lion arrived at the House to explain that the Carrion King was in the middle of a land and power grab in the warrens. During this process he had Mitzrah pinned in which meant that he could not smuggle in Torin’s caravan of iron and other cargo. After a quick caucus the group decided to throw a pro Tyr celebration in the street staring the Colossus of Tyr rallying support for the army as a distraction. Cael transformed into a kestrekel and scouted ahead to see when Torin would arrive.

 

Right as Torin was arriving, the team assembled  a huge group of fans. Speeches were made the distraction started, including large amounts of alcohol. Vordon guards arrived and tried to break up the gathering. Meanwhile, Zarnian spotted an agent of House Vordon watching as one of the caravan gate captains started scrutinizing Torin’s caravan. Zarnian went to the other captain and bribed him well to leave the shipment alone, and Torin slipped through right as the celebration had to disperse.

 

Back at the House, Torin revealed to C’aro that Mak’ti was pregnant. Before anyone had time to digest the news the criers arrounced that the army of Urik was only a day’s march away from Tyr. C’aro had everyone start to pack in case the House had to be cleared, and Tyr left, but then a messeger came. King Tythian demanded the House of the Painted Eye, House Vordon, and House Ianto all assemble in just a few hours.

 

                                                                                                                                                End Game 1  

Vordon - A Dark Sun Story

(This is based on a dream I had. It is messed up, violent, and brutal, but I dreamed it, so I worked it into a story. This takes place a few months after the death of Kalak)

Vordon

             "We're not going to shake them," called out Nathan as she glanced over her shoulder at the hoard of advancing Vordon troops. "Go! We'll hold them off!" She turned her crodlu spurring it forward as his partner Logn did the same.

            Without hesitation, Zarnian barked, "Trakas, get the kids and go!"

            "It's suicide," he called angrily.

            They had little time to argue. The mul took one last glance at her lover and her son, then drew her spear before kicking her crodlu forward.

            Trakas cursed. He stopped his own mount, jumping to the ground, to gather the energy he would need for any spells. They were in the desert between the House of the Painted Eye and Tyr. There were not many plants to aid him here, but running from the oncoming hoard would accomplish little. He and the children would still be overrun, and if he worked quickly, he might still be able to save Zarnian.

            For her part, Zarnian did not look back. Instead, she gritted her teeth and plowed into the onslaught, as did Nathan and Logan. Her two new guards were cut down almost instantly. As she charged, Zarnian felt the weight of her spear in her hand. She would die, but she would take many of them with her. With this certainty of death everything else fell away and she was simply gladiator whose only sorrow in this moment was the lack of spectators to witness her glory. The first three troops to ride upon her fell with her spear slashing their throats. She managed to dodge another one's spear but crashed into a fifth that cut her with his sword. Though she managed to incapacitate him with a stab of her spear yet another launched off his kank and tackled her. She rolled with him when she hit the ground but he managed to land on her spear arm, pinning it for just an instant. In those few seconds, two more guards jumped down, holding her down. Bucking one off, she tossed another one. Somewhere behind her Zarnian could make out the sound of iron on obsidian - Trakas and possibly Timmuth were fighting. Rage stabbed red across her vision. They were supposed to run! She had to take out as many as she could. Punching another in the throat, she tried to retrieve her spear but instead a lucky boot landed on her hand. An involuntary cry erupted from her throat as she felt bones break. With her left hand, she pulled her dagger and stabbed another soldier in the heart. A dagger or sword found a weakness in her armor and a blade stabbed into her right shoulder. Pulling her own dagger free of the newly made corpse, she turned to stab another when she heard "Zarnian!" It was not Trakas, but it still made her turn. Her lover lay unconscious (lifeless?) at the feet of one of her nightmares. The one-eyed guard captain that slaughtered his way through her house under a templar’s orders was now standing with a metal sword to Timmuth’s throat. Next to Timmuth, someone held Sorin with a dagger to his throat. Zarnian's eyes locked with her son's. The only thing behind those dark brown eyes was rage. Holding Timmuth's gaze she responded by throwing down her dagger, then all went dark.

*****

            Her head throbbed and her mouth was dry when she woke. Her shoulder screamed obscenities from her battle wound as her entire body was suspended by her wrists, with only the tips of her toes touching the floor. She was alone in a bleak room with nothing except a door. This was not UnderTyr, this was too uniform. For an instant, she thought there was some safety in this, then she realized that Vordon had any number of complexes or places that they could do as they wished.

            As she pondered this, Thaxos Vordon entered the room with one-eyed captain, two male muls, and three other guards that looked battle tested. All were armed, except Thaxos. The old man stepped forward with a soft smile on his face. "Zarnian, I am sorry that we had to meet like this." In response the mul raised a single brow of disgust. "You should know that nothing has been done to the boys. Trakas will live as well. He may have a black eye, but that is all." Zarnian kept her expression as still as possible. After searching her face for a time, Thaxos simply shrugged. "I understand. If I were in your position, I would likely also be angry.”

            "Cut the shit," Zarnian snarled.

            Now all the mirth was gone from him. His voice a growl, he stated "You know what I want."

            "I know what you think you want. It does not exist."

            Now it was Thaxos' turn to snarl. Stepping forward, he stared deep into Zarnian's eyes. "Do not make me angry. I know that mine exists. All I need from you is the location."

            "Why me?"

            "Because you are a symbol, king slayer. I might be able to get one of the others of your house and break them with greater ease, but you are the heart of the Painted Eye. If you give me the location, you will kill that heart. Spare yourself what may come and save me time. Tell me now." He growled the last word.

            So it comes down to this, Zarnian thought. She was strangely calm. A smile stretched her full lips. "Do whatever you are going to do to me, but," she made eye contact with everyone in the room one by one, "if anyone harms those boys I will track you down and kill you slowly, and everyone you love when I get out of this." Then she turned her attention to Vordon exclusively, "and I will survive and get out of this."

            "I heard you were stubborn, but I didn't know that you were suicidal. Arkan," he nodded at his lieutenant.

            "Fuck you Vordon," spat Zarnian, testing her bonds once more.

            He turned to her. "No, I am not the one getting fucked today." With that he turned and walked out of the room.

            Then, she felt Arkan's hands unbuckling her armor and choaked back the vomit rising in the back of her throat. Not again, not with him. He tossed her armor to the side and he was before her, his hands slipping under her undershirt. Though her hands were tied, but she could still kick him, or perhaps her legs wrapped around his throat to kill him, a small payback for the horrors inflicted on her house. Yet, as if reading her thoughts, Arkan stated, "If you think about resisting I will bring the boy in here and use him instead in front of you." There was something in his voice that made her believe that he would. As someone behind her cut her down and they dragged her to the floor her heart tightened. Panic threatened to overtake her. She thought of Timmuth in the next room. If he heard her cry out he would know, she had to be strong. Before she could fully steel herself she felt her body rip apart with the intrusion. Gasping, pain and violation washed across her in waves. This was one of her greatest fears and it was happening now. During the act time passed and perpetrators passed uncertainly. Eventually, it stopped, but by then she was torn and beaten. Before she could take a single unchoked breath, she was restrung from the ceiling. The pain in her broken hand and damaged shoulder tightened the world around her until she passed out.

            The sound of the boots walking in the room startled her awake. Vordon was once again with the others. Now, Thaxos did nothing to hide his true personality. The masks were off. Both were naked before the other. Zarnian bit back shame. Very few had willingly seen her naked before without even iron paint to hide her scars. Given what had just happened, it was odd to feel ashamed about her whip scars, but she did. Looking her up and down, Vordon inquired, "Are you ready to tell me about your mine?"

            "There is no mine," she spat, though her swollen jaw made it less forceful than she would have liked.

            Thaxos appeared amused. "What you do not understand is that I already know of it, if not its location, just as I know so much about you." He stepped behind her then she could feel a finger trace one the whip scars on her back. Despite her resolve, she shuttered in disgust. "A mul slave only whipped once in her entire life? Others would give anything to live a life that privileged, but you, you do everything to hide the fact it ever happened." Then he was before her again, his eyes sparkling with his power over her. Reaching forward, he gently took her topknot, slipping it behind her left ear and in front of her chest. "Is that what your mentor did as you were lashed to the post? He gentled your hair away from your back and whispered in your ear he was sorry. Then he raised his whip. Do you think it was the horror of having to beat you that caused him to take his own life two weeks later?"

            Something inside of her was dangerously close to breaking. Vordon should not know, no one alive should know. Panic welled inside. She fought to keep it in check. If she panicked now, she couldn't help Timmuth or the others. Suddenly, the whip just appeared in his hand. The markings and wear made it easy to identify. "Your mentor's whip." He examined the thongs. "Woven with spines and needles. You know exactly how this feels." Anger soared though her. Arkan took it from her room, stealing her last memento of her mentor. Fresh hatred caused her to tug on the bonds making them tighten, biting deeper into her wrists. "I can see this frightens you. That is not my intent. This whip won't be used on you." On cue, the door opened and Trakas' barely conscious form was dragged in. Blood dried on his face from a gash in the side of his head.

            "No," slipped from the mul's lips as the henchmen quickly strung Trakas from his wrists less than six feet from her. The druid moaned as one of the guards ripped his clothing from his torso.

            Holding the whip before her eyes, Vordon hissed, "The mine."

            "No," this time she meant to say the word. It tasted sweet. Though it was a temporary victory, it was still just that.

            Shrugging, Thaxos motioned to the guard by the door. "Bring in the healer."

            A man with a shaved head walked in. Though psionic, he held himself like a slave. Vordon indicated the druid with a slight tilt of his head. Without a word, the psionic walked to Trakas, placed a hand on his head and closed his own eyes. A moment later, a livid wound appeared on his own bald pate. He stumbled but a guard dragged him out of the room.

            Healed of his head wound, Trakas' bright green eyes opened. When he locked eyes with Zarnian, his were full of sorrow. She knew she looked bad, with blood, bruises, and a black eye swelling from a blow she received during the assault. They said nothing, for no words were necessary.

            The guard with her mentor's whip stepped behind Trakas, unfurling the lash. Zarnian heard someone step behind her as well. If she could have taken the whipping alone she would have, or even been raped again. But this torture was about watching Trakas suffer. Unable to look away, she kept her eyes locked with his as they both received the first lash. The sudden pain stole her breath, leaving her unable to do more than gasp. After five more she heard the first scream then realized it was her own. Trakas followed a few lashes after. More rained upon their bodies. Zarnian felt her skin tear, blood pour down her legs. Then, the pain became so intense that her vision began to dim. She welcomed this, anything to get away from the agony. Then the whipping stopped. Without warning, she tumbled to the floor as her bonds were cut, and saw Trakas do the same. He was a horror of blood and torn flesh as she knew she was. Her body would not fully follow her commands, but she managed to crawl forward enough to take his hand in hers. Weakly, his fingers responded, holding hers. "I'm sorry," she whispered, hating the idea of others hearing.

            He tried to smile. "I'm sorry."

            She loved him intensely for his smile, his words, which made his suffering worse. The mine. To end Trakas' pain she was almost willing to tell of it. However, in the pit of her stomach she now knew that this would end with their deaths. If she told of Iteriuk, they would both die. If she didn't, they would likely both die. The secret may hasten their deaths but it would bring death to everyone else she loved. Looking deep into his eyes, the same color as the forest he loved, she explained, "I can't."

            "Don't," but before he could say more a boot kicked him in the ribs. He cried out automatically trying to roll away from more blows. It was this sight that spurred her to action. Finding the last reserves of strength within herself she rose, lashing out with her right leg to sweep the legs of the man kicking Trakas, then with a sickening blow a stone warhammer descended on her leg, breaking it. The sound and sensation brought a wave of nausea into her throat but was released as a scream instead. Her leg rebroke over the old injury, the one that kept her from glory in the arena and almost took her life. Howling at the pain, she held her leg and physically shook, her mind holding on now by a silken thread. She could feel Trakas' hand on her, but it offered no true relief.

            For moments, they stayed like that on the floor, Zarnian's scream dwindling though the pain in her leg did not, and the writhing had reopened wounds on her back. As she tried to cope with it all, she heard a child's voice cry out. Looking up, two guards held onto Timmuth and Sorin. The boys appeared untouched, but Sorin was now sobbing. Timmuth just glared, all trace of youth and hope gone. Only hatred remained in those eyes, now the color of kank shell. His eyes were locked with Vordon and they spoke only of death. "Do not harm the children," she gasped, every word a struggle.

            Thaxos stated, "I grow tired of this. I have other things to do besides find ways to make you reasonable. Tell me now, or I will slit the throat of one of the boys."

            She reached forward for Timmuth prompting one of the muls to stomp down on her wrist, breaking it as well. Trakas did the same but received two more vicious kicks in his ribs; she heard something break. Sorin sobbed louder, then Timmuth elbowed his captor in the groin, then as the guard doubled over, Timmuth bit his captor’s cheek and gouged his eyes. Another guard swung a warhammer and as Zarnian screamed and reached, she watched it sail for Timmuth's head, a killing blow...

           

            With a scream of pain and rage, Zarnian bolted forward in her bed. Timmuth, she thought. She had to get to Timmuth. Her feet barely touched the ground as she bound forward bursting through the boy's door. At the sound of her footfalls Timmuth sat up in bed drawing his dagger from under his pillow in a fluid motion. Seeing it was Zarnian he relaxed, dropping his weapon to his side. Sorin woke, his eyes heavy with sleep. "Bad dream?" asked her adopted son. There was more concern in his dark brown eyes than he allowed in his voice.

            She nodded. Making her way to the side of the bed she kissed him on the forehead. Leaning over she repeated the gesture with Sorin. She could smell both of the boys. This was real. The children were safe, her body was whole and unbroken, and Trakas was alive, his back not raw. Yet, every time she blinked, she could see the horrors of her dream. It was so real, yet, she knew it was not a prophetic dream. Those were different, but it was also not normal. With a wave of nausea also came a wave of realization. Vordon. He just used her dreams to probe all her worst fears - he had a systematic plan to break her.

            "Zarnian?" Sorin's small, quizzical voice snapped her back to the room. Her hands were balled into fists, twisting handfuls of the boys' bedding. She could feel the clammy sweat covering her. Timmuth again clenched the dagger, his eyes scanning for the threat.

            Recovering slightly from the realization, she tried to twist her face back into a smile. It was weak at best, but she had to try. “It was just a bad dream. Both of you, go back to sleep.” Kissing them again, she tucked them into bed. Timmuth allowed her to cover him, but as he slid his hand under the pillow his eyes clearly said he would not allow himself to go back to sleep that night.

            Leaving, she grabbed Bobby and Kurt, shoving them in front of the boy’s room. “You watch them. No one in besides me.”

            Kurt snapped to attention. Bobby nodded, but appeared more concerned. Zarnian managed to make it back to her own room. Nearly falling on her bed she grabbed a pillow and silently screamed into it until she was spent. Then, having dispelled some of the horror and violation she hardened her heart. Vordon thought he knew her now, but if he tried to break her, he would her a find her a formidable enemy. If this was going to end in death for one of them, and her prophetic dream made her think it would, then it would not be her in the gray. She killed one king, and Vordon was no king. Taking her spear into her hands, she held it as a talisman against the dark and started planning Thaxos Vordon’s demise.

Petra's Proposal - A Warhammer Story

It occurred to me that I had never posted this story. We have taken a long break with our Warhammer characters from our Monday game, and Petra was one of my characters. For those of you who wondered what has happened to her over the break, read on....

Petra's Proposal

                It was cold and wet. The air smelled partially decayed and green at the same time. The slight musky tang of swamp drifted from some unnamed direction and stung the nostrils of everyone in the tiny collection of hovels that made up Stony Hollow. Petra took a deep breath and smiled. It was a good day. It was one of the few times that this new landlocked location actually felt like home. She had been born and raised in the swamps, so seeing too much grass or sun made her feel uncomfortable. With the gray sky and the slight stink, it felt  better.

                As she sat on a boulder and watched, children laughed and played. Her own brothers and sisters had made friends with George’s children. Now, they made a small gang of snot nosed terrors. The adults banded together out of self preservation to give the children chores, but they simply worked together to complete the tasks quickly and get back to what they were doing before – being children. Petra did not begrudge them being children – it was a state that did not last long. She was barely an adult in the eyes of the law, but she had been an adult for a very long time. Lately she had felt more than adult. She felt old, warn, battered.

                It began with the tower. She was not the smart like some of the others, but she had valuable instincts. The tower was wrong, against the nature she spent her entire life with. Seeing her little brother Elric, dead inside the tower, was more than she could take. It instilled a fear within her that she had not been able to remove from her heart. Though she enjoyed traveling with Wilhelm, Maxwell, and even Bartleby, she had departed for her simple home, far away from the Hollow. There, she spent time trying to protect her siblings with her body and earning a small living, but she knew that it was not enough. Finally, while she was getting supplies one day, she had come across Max at the trading outpost in her village, on his way to Altdorf. He told her about Stony Hollow and she packed up, leaving here everything she and her family had known for generations to get away from the horror of the tower.

                But getting away from the horrors of the road had not been so easy. On a simple supply run with Wilhelm, Bartleby, and the new dwarf Milgrom, they ended up far from home. Biitten by a werewolf, she slipped into a deep and tortured dream. She remembered some of it – sensations of running, the way the moon shone of the soft bed of pine needles around her, the smells of prey, dirt, and grass. It called to her in a way that was horrifying and appealing all at once. Then, she awoke, far from home and with nothing. She adventured for a share of the money, but while the others had gained bars of silver, she had every single brass bit stolen, and the horse she had just paid a gold for. With nothing more than the clothes on her back she watched while the others got new clothing, shaves, and fancied up for a party that she almost wasn’t invited to. Wilhelm had stood up for her, and only his act of kindness had kept her from having to work for whoever would give her a few coppers for her protection of their wagons as they traveled. She owed him, and she wouldn’t forget. But she also would not forget that Milgrom and Bartleby casually spent their silver without giving her a brass. If she hadn’t attacked and killed the first werewolf they might not been alive to spend that money.

                Fortunately, she had more money now than she thought she would see in a dozen lifetimes, thanks to the Elector Count’s gifts. They were a much needed surprise when she was destitute and desperate. Most of that money would be saved. Her family would not go hungry, and she could afford to build them a proper house. She could even move them into a city if she wanted, but she didn’t want to. Seeing the children play with their new friends was powerful incentive to stay at the Hollow.

                Seeing George cross the field toward Belle’s house stabbed Petra with a certain nervousness she rarely possessed. Straitening up, she smoothed down her short black hair and wondered if she had any dirt on her face. She rubbed her hands over her face, took a deep breath and walked quickly enough to catch up with him. “George,” she greeted. Suddenly, her mouth was dry.

                “Petra.” The name was both greeting and question.

He stopped walking. They were not alone, but no one was close, either. If she was going to do what she considered, now was as good a time as any. “George, I have a proposal for you.”

He nodded, and wore the sage look he bore at times. He was neither handsome nor ugly, and the years had worn on him out in his place with its vampires, wolves, and zombies. The death of his wife still haunted his eyes, yet he still managed to maintain an air of dignity and kindness. “What would you like to propose?”

She could tell he still had no idea. If she wanted to back out, she could now. Instead, she plowed forward. “I want to marry you. I have money, I can build us a place. I won’t lay with you in a way that will get me pregnant, but I will in any other way you want. That way, if you die, I’ll watch your kids because they will be mine and if I die, you do the same for me.”

He looked a little started. She was a full decade younger than he was, with a bridge of freckles across her nose and dark brown eyes that were at once curious and hard. Her lips were thin, and she did not use them to smile often, but when she did, she was pretty. He looked past her shoulder at their collective families playing together and back at her. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yep,” she answered with a nod of her head. “Been thinkin’ about it. They’re practically family anyway and this way, should the worst happen, I know they’re in good hands. Besides, been watching you. You’re a good man, and I could do worse.”

“You could do better,” he answered with a wistful smile.

“Not around here, and not like I am.” There was no criticism or harshness in her words, only truth. “You interested?”

“Yes, I will marry you,” he replied with a soft smile. He took her hand and kissed it. She nodded, before turning and going back to sit on her boulder in the cold mist, to watch her family, and try not to think of the tower…

 

Keeping Track

A short pencil is better than a long memory.

 

My stepfather Tom says that all the time. He is the one that looks and sounds like a cast member from the Sopranos, so sometimes I listen to what he has to say and sometimes I just walk away. However, that one phrase is something he says so much it stuck in my brain like spit out gum finding its way from the sidewalk to my shoe. Ewww.

 

Yet, the one case where this advice is never more necessary is with gaming. Just when you think that you don’t need to write everything down, write it down and then write some more. A thousand things can interfere with you remembering details from one game to another. Perhaps your gaming group only meets once a month, or perhaps you are playing 2-3 times a week! Either way, your brain can become taxed. Did your character buy a point in charm, or is that your other character? Did you spend your XP on getting loyalty for your organization or did you just think that you did?

Recently, I was talking to a group member about their organization. They said they wanted to buy a trait for it. Next week, they were saying they had that trait even though we had no XP yet. This wasn’t done to be fraudulent, it was done because nothing was written down. I have had similar things, but always default on screwing myself over. Character sheets help keep track of XP spent on your character, but when you have a more complex system such as our Dark Sun system where you can buy things for your organizations, always keep track on paper, because the memory can be a flimsy thing.

 

However, it also pays to take great notes on every game session. Keep track of things your character is doing, things you find interesting, and big events. My advice on this is to not rely on one person to do it. What your teammate finds interesting may not be the same thing you find interesting. I try to keep very even, detailed notes. When I have posted them in the past I have been told they are very based on my character by one person, and told they were far to detailed by another.

The best thing you can do you make your gaming experience a little more smooth is take some notes, and be very sure that you know where you are spending your own XP. Then when the DM asks, you can answer, and when you look back, you know for sure.