# Barsoom Tales I - COMPLETE



## barsoomcore

Well, I've put together a Story Hour for my Barsoom campaign. A couple of notes before you get started:

This isn't a "game session" journal. I don't really want to give any stats or describe rolls -- partly because I don't want to, and partly because often I just don't remember very well. It's also not going to be as action-packed as many of my favourite Story Hours -- Barsoom is more atmospheric and stressful than hyperactive and wildly dramatic. Sometimes to its detriment, I fear.

This starts partway through the first season of Barsoom, more than two years ago now, so I'll be taking a good many liberties with what happened. If the response is favourable I hope to carry right through to at least the end of Season Two. Please let me know if you need more details on the world and previous adventures in order to keep up with what's going on, but it's not my plan to provide a large amount of exposition. I've got a story to tell, dagnabit!

If you're super-curious AND you have sigs turned off, here's a link to the campaign website:

Barsoom Online

Note that there IS an online journal there -- it's not the same as this Story Hour, but it does contain complete spoilers, so don't read it if you want to find things out throughout the Story Hour itself!

Comments are much appreciated. I hope you enjoy it.

I've added the collated text of the first three Cantos and the Interludes that came between them to this post for easier reading. These files represent the complete tale in this thread.


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## barsoomcore

*Arrival*

Steam hissed and searing droplets spat out from the aging brass of the coffee machine as Ilonka brewed for the new arrivals.

They were a rough-looking lot, but she understood how the two-week ride up to Chimney could add some rough edges to just about anyone. Especially with the unending rain they'd been having. Still, this crew made her nervous. Almost all of them carrying around big swords, pistols and with a dangerous air to them. They looked tough and desperate and Chimney was not a town where either quality was likely to shine.

"The Saijadani one's pretty."

Ilonka looked up to see Trazik leaning against the bar, eyeing the newcomers. Especially the tall Saijadani woman, the one who was scowling so fiercely at the uneven floorboards, trying to get her chair to sit with some stability. The woman's arms were powerfully muscled and she carried not just a big sword but a military crossbow across her back.

"She could break your neck with one hand, Trazik. Forget it."

Trazik made a face at his friend and stood aside as Ilonka came out from behind the bar with a tray of cups. She crossed the shop, the rain overhead thunderous and seeming to make the coffee cups shudder.

The Naridic girl smiled up at her. She had huge brown eyes and her hair stuck out from her head in rather spectacular disarray. Unlike the others, she didn't appear to be armed and was so skinny Ilonka was worried for her health.

"Hi. We're new in town."

From where Ilonka stood she could see light shining from the windows of almost every building in the tiny little town of Chimney. Beyond the ten or twelve structures and muddy streets the rain fell in unceasing waves across the endless mountain ridges that surrounded the place. Her shop was the only public building in town.

"Really. You came up with the silver wagons, right?"

"Yeah. What a terrible trip. I'm SO glad you've got coffee here, I haven't had a decent cup since I left Al-Tizim. You don't look Saijadani. Or Gap. I like your hair. What's the story with that Kishak girl?"

At first charmed by the girl's sudden rush of questions, and smiling at the compliment to her long black hair, Ilonka frowned at the last item. She set the final cup on the table and nodded, too afraid to speak. She turned to leave.

"The Kishak girl. Tell us about her."

The big Saijadani guy leaned forward, tilting his hat back to regard her with his one good eye. He was the scariest of the group, with a big old-fashioned sword and pistols and knives all over him. A big cigar clenched in his teeth added nothing to his charm. Ilonka didn't know what to say. She felt herself clutch the tray to her chest. She shook her head.

All five of the newcomers got very interested in her all of a sudden. Gratefully she felt Trazik come up behind her. Vlad and Karel were sitting over across the room and she saw them both look over, and just knowing her friends were with her gave her courage.

"I don't know... anything about her."

"Look, forgive us if we seem a little... intense," said the blonde fellow, smiling disarmingly. His long cloak dripped rainwater on the floor, and from the fashionable hilt to his rapier, and his familiar accent, he was obviously from the Jewel. Pavairelle. The greatest city in Barsoom. The city Ilonka and all her friends cursed themselves for ever having left to come to this forsaken acre of mud. "We're just a little surprised, that's all. You don't often see a Saijadani man with a Kishak daughter."

Vlad got up and strode over. Ilonka's stomach flopped over at the sight of his easy, rambling gait. "She's not his daughter."

Both Ilonka and Trazik looked around to make sure there was no-one else in the shop as Vlad spoke. Ilonka felt herself trembling.

"We don't know who she is. But she showed up at the same time as the troubles started up. Anyone who asks the wrong questions disappears. I don't know what brought you folks to Chimney, but you ought to be told right now: you will never leave."

The five at the table looked at each other after Vlad's melodramatic announcement. The Pavairellean one put his boots up on the table and leaned back. Ilonka had to smile at his bravado.

"My name's Aubrey. This is Philip," he indicated the big Saijadani guy, "Elena," the Saijadani woman Trazik was still ogling, "and Nevid," the last Saijadani, a slim young man who hadn't yet spoken. He looked rich. "We work for the del Maraviez family, and we're here to put an end to your troubles. If you know anything that can help us, we'd sure appreciate it."

He hadn't introduced the Naridic girl and Vlad looked at her curiously.

"Oh. OH. I'm Arrafin al-Fasir beni Hassan. I'm from the University at Al-Tizim. I've been researching early Naridic culture, actually Karidish culture, the people who lived in the Narid before the Seven Brothers, before Suelekar Ben Azan destroyed Ky'in."

Ilonka frowned.

"We're a thousand miles from the Narid."

Arrafin laughed. "Oh, not nearly so much. Well, not directly. But of course I had to cross to Pavairelle and then take the road up through the Gap to Fort Burnoll -- " She caught herself before she relayed more details of her trip. "Sorry. But Chimney is actually a very interesting place to me. I believe this is where Essermane Varag was buried by Ky'in. The old goddess. Kishak, well, actually Calegrian. Before Kishak, you know."

Ilonka looked at Trazik and they both shrugged. She had no idea what the girl was talking about. It looked like the other new arrivals were used to her blathering, however.

"Well, I don't know about that, but I do know this," said Vlad, still in his melodramatic mode, "Whatever that little Kishak girl's involved in, there's nothing natural about it."

Ilonka could tell the new folk weren't taking Vlad very seriously. She shook her head.

The young Saijadani, Nevid, spoke at last. His voice was soft, serious.

"Does she live with the Speaker? At his house?"

Ilonka nodded. Her eyes widened as the young man stood, bowed politely and strolled out into the dark street, ignoring the rain. His companions watched him go with mixtures of confusion and frustration. Aubrey, the Pavairellean charmer, nodded to Philip, the Saijadani bruiser.

"Why don't you go check out that invite? We'll sit tight here and see what else we can figure out."

Philip chewed at his cigar and stood up, checking pistols and sword before stomping out into the rain himself, leaving Aubrey, Arrafin and Elena. Aubrey gestured to the empty seats.

"Join us?"

*****

Nevid studied the Speaker's house. Two stories, dark. Rain trailed off the tile roof in great arcing spouts, plunging to the mud and forming craters there. With a quick study, the young man moved to the stone wall and grabbed at few handholds, deftly pulling himself up to a second-story window. The window opened easily and he was inside.

Immediately Nevid shed his cloak, revealing dark clothing beneath. He bundled the wet cloak up and stuffed it into his pack, then stood still, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. He appeared to be in an empty bedroom. Padding noiselessly to the door, he drifted it open and peered into the hallway beyond.

Nothing.

A sudden coldness touched the back of his neck and he spun, half-expecting someone to be behind him. But there was nothing.

The hallway floorboards were sturdy and Nevid made no sound at all as he crept along. He stopped in mid-stride, listening. Another chilling touch. Nevid felt his heart beat faster. He strained to see further in the darkness. He moved forward, found the hallway turned to the right, in towards the center of the house. There was just enough light to make out the near wall, the plaster disfigured from years of rain and rot.

The house felt empty. Abandoned. His hand brushed at something near the wall, clinging like spiderwebs.  He peered around the corner, down a dark hall where two high windows offered a faint glimmer in the darkness. The rain overhead threatened to come right through the roof.

A shadow passed by one of the windows. Nevid blinked, trying to make out the form. His heart began to shudder in his chest and he found it hard to maintain his quiet breathing.

Behind him something passed very near and he whirled. Still nothing. Around the corner and he planted his back against the wall, looking up and down the hall. The sense that something was very near, something he couldn't see or touch, widened his eyes and stiffened his muscles.

Nevid fancied himself something pretty special. Hand-picked by Isabella del Maraviez, an influential woman in Saijadan, he'd attended complex negotiations, intricate court politics and handled all sort of nerve-wracking affairs. He was smart, careful and could be very charming when he made the effort. He was beginning to realise, however, that a vast reserve of courage was not among his assets. Nevid was terrified. He was frightened beyond any sort of rational thought and it never crossed his mind that calling out, "Who's there?" was in no way sensible behaviour for a burglar.

His voice echoed in the empty hall. There was nobody in the house. Nobody he wanted to encounter, of that he was sure.

Something hissed.

Nevid turned and bolted back to the room he'd climbed in through. The shutters burst open as he leaped and tumbled to splash into the muck outside. He scrambled to his feet, bruised and breathless but unheeding of his injuries as his panic drove him on. He ran into the curtains of driving rain, leaving the open window behind him, black and empty.

*****

The man referred to as Philip stomped through the rain and muck, grumbling to himself. The journey up to this town had been foul enough to darken the brightest of spirits, and Philip was far from the brightest of spirits. He muttered and swore as he stumbled towards a large dormitory, shuttered windows letting slivers of candlelight out into the darkness.

As he passed under the eaves he turned up the eyepatch, revealing a perfectly healthy eye beneath it. With both eyes he scanned the immediate area, studying dark corners and overhangs with a suspicious gaze. Without losing his suspicious expression he settled the eyepatch back into place and knocked heavily on the door, resting his other hand on his swordhilt.

The heavy thuds echoed within and after some small commotion, hushed voices and sounds of movement, a young man called out, "Who's there?"

Philip sighed. He bellowed through the door, "Philip di Guzma. I was asked to speak with a young lady here."

In Saijadan such an announcement would be grounds for scandal at the least. Philip evinced a certain degree of discomfort in his scowl. Such invitations were unknown to him, and he was in no mood to play courtier to an strange lady. Or whatever the situation might be. Philip had few illusions about his own attractiveness -- he knew he was a fierce-looking fellow without much in the way of airs and graces. Ladies did not ordinarily seek him out, and he fully expected this invite to result in something much the same as the last time a woman paid any attention to him -- the duel in Fort Burnoll that resulted in his unfair expulsion from the city, all because of that hateful del Orofin wench Collette.

Philip's scowl deepened.

"She's not here. Go away."

The scowl became grotesque in its severity.

"Look, she asked me to meet her. Will you tell her I stopped by?"

"Go away. Just go away. Please."

Philip raised his eyebrows and considered the door. It would probably give way eventually, but without knowing anything what was on the other side, and without any pressing reason to find out, he decided he could live without breaking it down and defeating whatever evil lurked beyond.

Especially since said evil sounded about seventeen and frightened. Philip set his hat more firmly on his head.

"Fine, I'm leaving. But tell her I was here. She knows where to find me, apparently."

He turned and stomped off into the rain, the mud sucking at his boots with each step. His grumbling was more intense.

*****

Ilonka found herself growing friendly towards these three, despite herself. Aubrey had a breezy self-assurance that inspired confidence, and of course they had Pavairelle in common. They talked about familiar neighborhoods, traded rumours and gossip about the Kishaks and the Prince and the myriad societies and communities that made up the great city they both called home. She almost forgot her terror as they chatted.

And the Saijadani woman, Elena, turned out to be much friendlier than her expression indicated. Trazik had worked up the courage to sit next to her and despite her rather fierce expression she chatted easily with him. Ilonka was not the most vain woman on Barsoom but she couldn't help comparing herself to Elena. The Saijadani woman was a good deal bigger than Ilonka, of course, and with her broad shoulders and traveller's dress she didn't have much evident elegance, but the Pavairellean woman had to admit that her new rival had a brilliant smile and a much more generous figure than Ilonka, who had always been a little skinny. She told herself not to worry about such things. Not like she was interested in Trazik, anyway.

The other woman, Arrafin, on the other hand, stirred no competitive heat in Ilonka. It was obvious the girl was clever, and could talk a million words a minute, but she was just as obviously completely hopeless socially. Her hair was a rat's nest of tangled curls and stuck up all around her head, as though held in place by wires. She wore tattered desert robes that were covered in mud from their trip, and pulled sheet after sheet of dog-eared paper out of her shoulder bag as she explained the intricacies of ancient cultures to Vladimir. He was nodding and trying gamely to keep up as she rambled on, waving her hands around and nearly falling off the bench in her excitement. Vlad put out an arm and caught her easily. She was so skinny he could support her entire weight with one hand.

Ilonka smiled as everyone in the room reacted to Arrafin's almost-tumble. Obviously she was considered in great need of protection by everyone who encountered her. 

She turned back with a relieved smile to Aubrey, who grinned back.

"Look, I know you folks must be scared, but we've been through some pretty scary stuff before and we're still here. Believe me, we can help you."

Aubrey's attention wandered for a second as he recalled the wild battles in the Wadi Shir, those frantic seconds atop the tower in Fort Burnoll and the desperate stand against the raptors he'd thought they'd never survive. He sighed, nostalgic. At least there hadn't been any rain.

Ilonka likewise faltered after Aubrey's comforting words. She looked up at Vlad, asking Arrafin about some old religion -- always glad to show off his University education, he was -- and over at Trazik, telling the pot-bellied gambler story to an interested Elena. Something inside her trembled.

The little girl. The little Kishak girl. Her eyes. Screaming in the night.

A sudden tremor shook Ilonka's body and she turned to Aubrey.

"Let me tell you something. About that girl."

Outside, through the rain, screaming. Horrible, inhuman shrieks of pain and helpless terror turned all of them around, cutting off all conversation as in unison they all stood, facing the doorway. For a second they all stood motionless, too frightened to move as the screaming went on and on.

The tiniest sound caught Ilonka's ear over the screaming and the still-thundering rain. She turned and saw Aubrey's slim rapier in his hand. Elena, too, had drawn a weapon and with one quick look and a nod to each other, they dashed out into the rain. Vlad was two steps too slow to catch thin little Arrafin as she darted after them, out into the night. Where something screamed.


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## LostSoul

Sweet!  I've been waiting for this.


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## Desdichado

Sweet!  I'm jealous, too!  I've rarely had the patience to tell a story _in media res_ without interrupting it for all kinds of background!  This is well-written and compelling.  Keep it coming!


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## Warrior Poet

This is excellent -- a great, tight beginning, and I, also, like jumping into the "middle" (as it were) without so much background (at least just yet), because I can't help but feel swept up right away, wondering what is going to happen next, and what is the significance of it all.

I look forward to reading more.  I recognize some character descriptions (I think) from your web site.  Can you tell a bit more about Barsoom, it's geography, and climate.  I see the mention of a Wadi, and the desert, and am just wondering what you envision the world, or at least this region, like.  I'm afraid I haven't read any of the books on Barsoom, so I don't have any reference there.  Do you keep close to what was written, or have you tried to branch out and use those as inspiration for your own development?  Also, one character per player?

I am definitely curious for more.  I've always wondered what it would be like to run a campaign with limited, early firearms -- nothing to unbalance the game, and nothing to replace, of course, ye goode olde sworde of steele, but still ...

Good luck!  I look forward to more!  Thanks for posting!

Warrior Poet


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## barsoomcore

Warrior Poet said:
			
		

> *I look forward to reading more.  I recognize some character descriptions (I think) from your web site.*



You should.


> *I'm afraid I haven't read any of the books on Barsoom, so I don't have any reference there.*



Ack! I should definitely have mentioned this -- there is no connection between my campaign setting and the Barsoom of Edgar Rice Burroughs except for the following:

Red Guys
Huge White Thingies
Pink Skies
Banths

And, um, that's all. So, don't worry about that. I used the name because I think it's cool.


> *I look forward to more!*



Thanks! More is coming, I promise!


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## NoOneofConsequence

Alright!

I guess I'll have to drop in at your website now - the depth and richness of your cultural setting is really top notch. Please continue to post, I'm hooked already.


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## barsoomcore

*Check-In*

Ilonka and her friends drew back to the counter after the sudden departure of their guests. The horrible screaming outside came to an abrupt halt, and the rain seemed redouble its efforts to pound the world into muddy rubble.

Trazik spoke first. "First new girl I've seen in six months, she gets herself killed the first night here."

Ilonka's voice was quiet. "We should have warned them. We should have told them more."

Vlad put an arm around her. Ilonka was happy to forget they were mad at each other and leaned against his familiar shoulder. "It wouldn't have done any good, girl. You know that."

Karel got up from the sofa where he'd been reading and joined them. The four friends exchanged worried glances, keeping their eyes on the doorway, a frame of darkness and pouring rain.

Ilonka whispered into Vlad's shoulder, too quiet for any of the boys to hear, "We're all going to die."

*****

Elena and Aubrey stumbled through the mud, following the screams. They made their way up a muddy street and rounded a corner only to crash into a tall, powerful form. Aubrey leapt back, brandishing his sword, and Elena wound up for a good two-handed swing when the form put its hands up and yelled, "Hey! It's me, Philip!"

Aubrey cursed and shook his head. Elena leaned closer and nodded. "Yeah, it's you." She scowled.

"Of course it's me." Philip jerked his head. "This way. Down here."

The screams stopped just as they entered the narrow alley he indicated.

Aubrey frowned. "Doesn't this lead back to the del Maraviez house?"

"Yes," Elena nodded, "Our parasaurs are tethered out back."

Just then they became aware of a terrible tearing and rending, only a few yards away. All three of them charged down the alley. Philip was in the lead and so he was the one who crashed into the shadowy figure at the corner. There was a confused tumble, a burst of inventive swearing and the whole gang spilled out into the back of the del Maraviez house, a two-story stone and wood building with brightly lit windows and a high-peaked roof.

The back yard, where their big riding dinosaurs had been tied up, had been turned into a field of torn flesh and bone. Four-ton corpses lay strewn about, ripped open and entrails steaming in the cold rain. Something had just gone through six gigantic dinosaurs in a matter of seconds.

Aubrey disentangled himself from Philip, Elena and Nevid (the formerly shadowy figure formerly at the corner) and stared at the carnage.

"What the heck...?"

Elena pointed. "That."

"Huh?"

"That."

"What?"

"THAT!"

Aubrey turned and squinted through the rain. He stumbled back, craning his neck upwards to take in the immensity of the creature standing there. It was taller than the surrounding buildings, gleaming white in the rain, with great talons and powerful legs. It roared, a wild, deafening cry that echoed back from the sheer cliffs surrounding the little town, flexed its four arms and sent the foursome stumbling back in terror. Aubrey looked over at Elena, eyes wide. Off in the corner of his vision he saw Nevid shriek and fall flat on his back in the mud.

"Oh, that."

*****

Arrafin froze at the tremendous roar up ahead. She'd fallen well behind the others, unable to forge through the mud as quickly as they. For a second icy terror numbed her, and then her ever-curious brain started to work. She couldn't identify the animal right away. It certainly wasn't anything she was familiar with, not any sort of common predator. She began to move again, heading straight for the sound, heedless of the muck. Curiousity brought new life to her weary legs and they propelled her down the alley. She came stumbling out just behind her friends -- all of them staring in slack-jawed mindless fear and awe at the massive creature looming overhead.

"Look at that," Arrafin exclaimed in wonder, "It's a mammal. Oh, but four arms -- do you think it's a white ape? I never realised they were so big! That must be, oh at least ten meters, don't you think? Philip?"

The Saijadani turned his face to Arrafin, cigar forgotten, barely able to focus on her. He had a pistol in either hand.

"I need bigger guns."

*****

At the roar Trazik looked up from his coffee.

"You know, I'm beginning to think..." he began.

Vlad continued, "...that maybe leaving Pavairelle for this place..."

All four of them finished the well-worn sentiment, "...was a really bad idea."

They all smiled at each other. Trazik nodded at the way Ilonka was still resting her head on Vlad's shoulder.

"I thought you didn't like him this week."

"No, that was last week. This week he's okay."

"When's it going to be my week?"

"Anytime, Trazik. As soon as you're rich and handsome."

Ilonka laughed, ducking Trazik's cup. It shattered against the counter behind her.

At first she thought Karel had thrown his cup, too. She realised the subdued bangs she was hearing were gunshots. Vlad raised his head and peered out into the rain.

"I thought for sure they'd be dead by now."

*****

Philip was deeply offended. Two square hits with the best pistols money could buy, both firing even in this rain, and...

It didn't even notice. The great creature turned away from them and picked up two of the massive parasaur carcasses and trundled off, moving with frightening speed and stealth for such a gigantic beast. A few steps and it was almost lost in the dark rain. Carrying two dinosaurs.

"I hit it! I swear I hit the thing!"

Elena smacked his shoulder.

"Come on, don't lose it!"

She and Aubrey plunged after the beast, followed by Philip who had grabbed hold of one of Arrafin's arms and was bodily dragging the slender university student along behind him. She, of course, was still talking to herself about the probable origin of the monster, speculating as to its energy requirements and nocturnal behaviour. Nevid staggered to his feet, saw his companions taking off and realised that however bad that creature was, there were worse things roaming this night. He stumbled after them.

"It's heading out of town. What's up this way? Is this the way to the mines?"

Nobody had any answers to Aubrey's questions. Keeping up with the giant was proving more and more difficult as the mud slowed them down. It was nearly out of sight now, surging forward past the last buildings of the town. In a ragged line they staggered past a big building much like most of the others in this village, stone and wood and a tile roof. Only one light shone in a second-story window, which was where the screaming suddenly erupted from.

*****

Vlad wore a soft leather jacket, ancient and worn. It smelled of tobacco, the oil he used to keep it soft and underneath both those, a delicate spiciness. The combination always filled Ilonka's head with memories of their times together. She rested her head on his shoulder, eyes closed, inhaling the familiar, comforting aroma of Vlad's jacket.

He shifted a bit on the couch to make her angle easier, nodding at what Trazik was saying.

"Del Viandour can't take a stand. Whichever way he goes he'll be crucified by the other side."

Karel was arguing with him, but without much enthusiasm. They'd had this argument innumerable times.

"What kind of leader is that? What kind of example is he setting? We need inspiration, not plots and political maneuvering. We're not Saijadani, you know."

"Yeah, I know that," Trazik shook his head. "But we're not a bunch of bloodthirsty Gap warriors, either."

"Boodthirsty? Who said bloodthirsty? What's that--"

Ilonka cut him off, still with her head on Vlad's shoulder.

"This is it."

The three young men fell silent, eyes lowered. She spoke again.

"This is it. These people, if they can't... They're going to get us all killed."

Silence. Or rather, deafening thunder as the rain continued its roaring assault on the tiles overhead. They all sat quietly for some time.

Vlad spoke, his voice low and serious.

"We're all going to die here anyway, honey. We all know that."

The soft leather absorbed the tears from Ilonka's eyes.

*****

Aubrey edged open one side of the huge double doors to the building and peered inside.

"Anything?" Philip was reloading his guns under the shelter of the eaves.

Aubrey shook his head.

"Too dark. Can't see a thing."

The screams had stopped almost as quickly as they had erupted. The white dinosaur-murdering giant had disappeared and rather than try to follow it into parts unknown, they'd decided to investigate these more human-sounding-and-therefore-more-frightening screams. Aubrey slipped through the doorway, Elena and Philip right behind. Nevid and Arrafin exchanged glances and the Saijadani youth went next. The Naridic girl, biting her lip in worry, followed her companions into the building.

Inside the darkness was absolute. Aubrey took several cautious steps forward, waving his rapier before him like a blind man's cane. The noise of the rain abated dramatically and he paused for a second to let his ears adjust. Elena and Philip both managed to bump into him simultaneously and there were a confused few seconds while they sorted things out and Nevid and Arrafin caught up.

"Does anybody have some kind of light?"

"I think I can see something. Are those stairs over there?"

"I have some glowsticks but maybe there's a lantern around here..."

"I found an anvil. This must be a smithy."

"Those are stairs. I can see them, too."

As their eyes adapted to the dark they saw a faint glow coming from a wooden stairway leading up to the second floor. Huddled together they made their way to the foot of the stairs and peered up.

"Who's first?"

The rain carried on in its efforts to destroy the building. Nobody spoke. At last Elena sighed and started up the stairs, moving with impressive grace as she rounded the corner and made her way up. The others followed once she was half-way up. They all froze as she reached the top, peered around the second corner and gasped.

Elena had a pretty strong stomach. Growing up as she had on a tyrant ranch, she'd seen not only animals slaughtered, but men badly, even fatally injured. She'd seen a man's dead body crushed by a rex's foot, torn and bloody. Not much upset her that way.

The sight of a six-year-old girl crouched over a grown man's still-spasming body, ripping open his chest in order to drag his heart out and eat it, though, did the trick. The bodies strewn down the dimly-lit hall showed that this fellow was only the last of several to meet this horrific fate. The little Kishak girl, covered head to toe in blood that in the dark shone with black wetness, stood up and turned to smile her friendly little-girl smile at Elena.

The big Saijadani woman gave a horrified cry and stumbled backward as the girl started walking down the hall towards her. Her companions backed up behind her and the group retreated down the stairs. Arrafin shrieked as the girl appeared at the top of the stairs and smiled down at them.

The girl spoke. Nonsensical sounds, barely audible over the rain. Both Nevid and Arrafin strained to make out what she was saying. Nevid shook his head, baffled, but Arrafin's face took on her habitual expression of focus and curiousity as she listened.

She got distracted as Aubrey yanked her backwards, and looked up to see the little Kishak girl come down the steps.

Without seeming to touch one. Or move her legs at all.

Philip swore and drew both pistols. "I hate when they do that floating thing."


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## Altin

Wow -- this is _good._  Compelling characters, plot wierdness and a very readable style; all the ingredients for a classic story hour. As someone mentioned, starting right in the middle of things definitely adds a certain something. Please do write more! 

As (early) favourite characters go, I am particularly fond of Arrafin and Philip. Very cool variations on the usual fighter and wizard (at least I think she is a wizard, despite the lack of spells as yet) archetpyes.

Yours,
Altin


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## barsoomcore

*Room Service*

The little red-skinned girl drifted down the steps, her happy smile never wavering.

In a single motion, the five newcomers pressed backwards, away from her. Philip held his guns up, the barrels shaking in his big hands.

"Okay," whispered Elena, "Philip, you shoot her, and Aubrey, you and I will rush her."

Philip and Aubrey, standing to either side of her, frowned and turned to look at the Saijadani woman. Aubrey shifted his rapier to his left hand and drew his own pistol.

The Kishak girl started speaking again, gibberish to everyone. Everyone except Arrafin, who cocked her head to one side, concentrating hard. The blood-covered child stepped forward, still speaking. She raised her hands.

Fingers tightened on triggers and swordhilts. Even Nevid drew his rapier, holding it clumsily out to one side. Elena took a deep breath.

"Gesthalinik. Kam."

The little girl halted in mid-step, her face suddenly awash in confusion. Four other faces (also suddenly awash in confusion) turned to Arrafin, who stared at the girl, ignoring her friends.

"Gesthalinikam."

The Kishak girl turned and strolled out the double doors into the rain. Arrafin blinked, evidently surprised. Everybody else looked back and forth between Arrafin and the doors.

"What was that?" asked Nevid. "What language was that?"

Arrafin couldn't help looking smug. "Calegrian. From the old empire, before Kish. Nobody speaks it anymore."

Aubrey kept one eye on the door. "What did you say to her?"

The smug expression disappeared, replaced by a blush of embarrassment. "Um, 'chariot'. I think. I've never spoken Calegrian before, just read it, but... yeah, I think it was 'chariot'."

"'Chariot'?"

"Well, it was the only word I could think of. Look, she's gone, right?"

Sudden wonder filled Arrafin's big eyes. "She speaks Calegrian. She couldn't be... How could a little girl know Calegrian?"

Elena scowled. "That's no little girl. Come upstairs with me for a second. There's something all of you should see."

*****

Trazik was tall and thin and, despite Ilonka's constant teasing about his appearance, quite good-looking in a pensive sort of way. Sitting on the counter, he let his long legs dangle, his feet nearly touching the floor as he waited for Ilonka to brew up another round of coffee. The dark-haired woman nudged him.

"Too bad about the weather. Guess your girlfriend will have to stay in tonight."

Trazik rolled his eyes. He glared at Karel, chuckling over at the table.

"Iseut's a nice girl. Just because --"

He broke off as footsteps pounded up the stairs outside and in from the rain came a gangly figure wrapped in a soaking blanket. Trazik sighed and Karel's chuckles turned into ill-concealed snorts of amusement.

The blanket shook and drew back, revealing a rather pretty girl with tangled blonde hair and nervous eyes. She saw Trazik and smiled, then immediately blushed and looked at the floor.

Ilonka called out to her. "Hi, Iseut. I'm just brewing up a round now. Have a seat."

"Hi, Ilonka. Hi, Trazik."

Iseut sat next to Karel, and they exchanged greetings. Karel had controlled his laughter enough to be able to nod in a friendly fashion.

Trazik looked over at Ilonka. She grinned and leaned close to him.

"You'd have more fun if you had less scruples."

Trazik smacked her as he pushed off the counter and headed over to the table.

*****

Elena pushed Aubrey and Philip aside and shook Arrafin's limp body gently.

"Arrafin? Sweetie? Come on now, everything's okay."

"What were you thinking, Elena? Remember how she fainted when Nevid got shot?"

"Shut up. She's coming around."

Arrafin groaned and her eyes fluttered open. At the sight of Elena's worried face, she cried out and threw her arms around the bigger woman. Elena patted her on the back, smiling as Arrafin got control of herself and managed to stand up.

"Sorry, guys. I -- It was just..."

Everyone protested, insisting they understood and that it was no problem and that they all nearly fainted themselves.

"Do you want to go back upstairs?"

Arrafin's stomach gave a lurch at the thought of the sight of that hallway. She shook her head.

"That's fine, you don't have to. I think we saw all we needed to see." Aubrey went to the door and looked outside. "What do we have so far? A great big white... thing... that eats dinosaurs, and a little Kishak girl who kills people."

Everyone nodded.

Nevid spoke up. "And silver production is down. That's the problem, remember."

"Yeah, well, I guess the first two items explain the third, kind of."

Elena went to the door. "Why don't we discuss this somewhere more comfortable? Like back at the del Maraviez house?"

Retracing their footsteps through the rain and muck, the weary little band was nearly at their destination when yet another round of screaming broke out, right next door, this time.

"Philip?"

"Yeah, yeah."

*****

Ilonka and Vlad sat curled up cozily on the sofa, watching Iseut attempt to fascinate Trazik. Ilonka sighed.

"Why doesn't he just take her upstairs?"

Vlad frowned at her. "Ilonka, she's a child. It wouldn't -- "

"She's going to be a dead child soon enough. Why not -- "

She hushed as Vlad put a finger over her lips.

"Stop it, Ilonka. It doesn't do any good." Vlad looked over at his friends, his face stiff with suppressed emotion. His mouth tightened. "We can't turn into a bunch of... savages. We have to keep living properly. We have to -- "

He broke off as Ilonka hauled him down for a few serious kisses.

Trazik, Karel and Iseut looked over at the sudden commotion then looked away quickly, grinning. Iseut caught Trazik's eye.

"I guess Vlad is okay this week."

Trazik nodded and Iseut chuckled and for a second, Trazik stared at the young Gap woman, her clear blue eyes so full of honest courage. She noticed his stare and looked down at the tabletop, her cheeks burning. She blinked in shock when she felt long fingers on her face, her head turned and Trazik kissed her.

Karel looked from one couple to the other and turned his gaze up to the ceiling. He began counting broken boards overhead. Out loud.

*****

The screaming went on longer this time, but still, it was all over by the time the group of muddy, exhausted investigators made their way into the house. Not everyone was dead, at least. Somebody was sobbing, somewhere.

Most of the ground floor of the house was a single room, with heavy split-log furniture that had been overturned and tossed about. A big fireplace at the back of the room cast a sweaty, feverish light over the bodies that sprawled on the dirt floor. Long sprays of blood lay across every surface in sight.

Aubrey moved to catch Arrafin but it seemed the girl had mastered her nerves, for though she wavered she remained upright. Elena moved quickly into the room, homing in on the quiet sobbing that came from behind a shattered table. The muscles of her arms strained against her sleeves as she heaved up the furniture and cast it aside. She crouched down next to the middle-aged man who lay there, his eyes blank with terror.

"Hi. Are you injured, sir?"

Elena looked him over. He seemed to be okay. There was nothing to be done for anyone else in the room, that was for sure. The stench was incredible. She glanced up at her companions.

"Philip. Aubrey. Why don't you guys check upstairs?"

Philip nodded and moved to the stairs, then stopped and tossed Elena one of his pistols. They gave each other a weak half-smile and he ran up the steps out of sight. Elena stuck the gun in her belt and leaned down to help the sobbing man up.

Nevid, shaking with both exhaustion and fear, moved from one body to the next, gagging at smell and sight of the terrible, terrible wounds. His mind imagined what such a death would be like, wondering if you would realise that your chest had been torn open before you died. Some of the heads were cracked open, and queasily Nevid realised that the interiors of those shattered skulls were empty.

The survivor cried out at the sight of the bodies all around and stumbled to one, a solidly-built lady about his age, and fell to his knees next to the corpse, moaning in grief.

Elena sank down next to him and put an arm around his shoulders.

"I'm so sorry, sir. Can you tell me what happened? What's going on here?"

The man turned to her and Elena recoiled from the agony in his eyes. Before she could react, he yanked the pistol from her belt, stuck it into his mouth and pulled the trigger. Nevid gave a cry of disgust as blood and brains spattered across him and the man's body collapsed next to the woman's.

Philip and Aubrey came charging downstairs, weapons ready. Elena sat frozen, staring aghast at the two bodies. For a long few seconds nobody moved. Aubrey spoke at last.

"This is a bad place. I don't like it here."

Nevid wiped the worst of the gore off his face, fighting nausea. "We can't leave, unfortunately."

He looked around at the group, all of them staring at him in growing comprehension and horror.

"All our parasaurs are dead. We'll have to walk out. It must be a two-week walk back out to the highway. Where are we going to get food? And what are we going to do if either of these things comes after us? That man was right, back in the coffee shop. We're never going to leave this place. Not alive."

Nobody had ever heard Nevid make such a long speech. The corpses strewn about provided silent, incontrovertible testimony to his assessment.

Elena reached down and took Philip's pistol from the dead man's hand. She wiped it clean, stood and stepped carefully across the room to hand it back to Philip. She turned to scowl at Nevid.

"I'm not dying here. That's final."

Nevid spread his hands, apologetic.

"I'm just saying."


----------



## Warrior Poet

I was going to post a selection of some favorite moments from the story so far ...

... but there's too many of them to put in a reasonable length post.

You have a storyteller's gift -- this writing is terrific.  Good plot development, good character development, good description, good dialogue, good pacing, good structure, all of it.  Good, nothing, it's great.

Is the dialogue straight from in-game the way it was said at the table?

Compliments to you and your players.  This is a tremendous story.

And my reading list just got longer.

Thanks,

Warrior Poet


----------



## Warrior Poet

Well, o.k., maybe just a few ...



> Karel got up from the sofa where he'd been reading and joined them. The four friends exchanged worried glances, keeping their eyes on the doorway, a frame of darkness and pouring rain.




Mood -- check!



> The Saijadani turned his face to Arrafin, cigar forgotten, barely able to focus on her. He had a pistol in either hand.
> 
> "I need bigger guns."




Character -- check!



> "No, that was last week. This week he's okay."
> 
> "When's it going to be my week?"
> 
> "Anytime, Trazik. As soon as you're rich and handsome."




Humor -- check!



> She got distracted as Aubrey yanked her backwards, and looked up to see the little Kishak girl come down the steps.
> 
> Without seeming to touch one. Or move her legs at all.
> 
> Philip swore and drew both pistols. "I hate when they do that floating thing."




Mysterious and growing horror -- check!



> He broke off as Ilonka hauled him down for a few serious kisses.
> 
> Trazik, Karel and Iseut looked over at the sudden commotion then looked away quickly, grinning. Iseut caught Trazik's eye.
> 
> "I guess Vlad is okay this week."
> 
> Trazik nodded and Iseut chuckled and for a second, Trazik stared at the young Gap woman, her clear blue eyes so full of honest courage. She noticed his stare and looked down at the tabletop, her cheeks burning. She blinked in shock when she felt long fingers on her face, her head turned and Trazik kissed her.
> 
> Karel looked from one couple to the other and turned his gaze up to the ceiling. He began counting broken boards overhead. Out loud.




Honest, believeable character dynamics and interaction -- check!



> Philip nodded and moved to the stairs, then stopped and tossed Elena one of his pistols. They gave each other a weak half-smile and he ran up the steps out of sight.




Well-developed party dynamics -- check!



> The man turned to her and Elena recoiled from the agony in his eyes. Before she could react, he yanked the pistol from her belt, stuck it into his mouth and pulled the trigger. Nevid gave a cry of disgust as blood and brains spattered across him and the man's body collapsed next to the woman's.




The shock of the unexpected -- check!



> "All our parasaurs are dead. We'll have to walk out. It must be a two-week walk back out to the highway. Where are we going to get food? And what are we going to do if either of these things comes after us? That man was right, back in the coffee shop. We're never going to leave this place. Not alive."
> 
> Nobody had ever heard Nevid make such a long speech. The corpses strewn about provided silent, incontrovertible testimony to his assessment.
> 
> Elena reached down and took Philip's pistol from the dead man's hand. She wiped it clean, stood and stepped carefully across the room to hand it back to Philip. She turned to scowl at Nevid.
> 
> "I'm not dying here. That's final."
> 
> Nevid spread his hands, apologetic.
> 
> "I'm just saying."




Story tension, character resolve, twists, realizations -- check, check, check, and check!

Barsoomcore, you've really got something here!

Thanks,

Warrior Poet

edit:  aha!  Bracket trouble!


----------



## barsoomcore

Warrior Poet said:
			
		

> *Is the dialogue straight from in-game the way it was said at the table?*



It was more than two years ago, and my notes are sketchy at best. It's more "representative" than "factual", if you know what I mean.

Thanks for all your very kind words. Encouragement is always appreciated!


----------



## Dawn

Excellent storytelling.  Nice job of switching back and forth between the party and the group at the tavern/inn.


----------



## barsoomcore

*Wake-Up Call*

Karel tasted something. Something foul. Something fuzzy.

His brain spent some time considering, and decided that "fuzzy" was inappropriate for anything actually in his mouth. It tried opening his mouth, had very little success and decided it was time for Karel to wake up.

He found himself sprawled in one of the dingy armchairs, his open mouth resting on the upholstery. Iseut and Trazik were curled up on the motheaten green sofa by the counter, while Vlad snored with Ilonka across his lap in the other, slightly less motheaten, sofa nearer the door. Everyone looked very peaceful, if somewhat uncomfortable.

Karel studied the others, keeping his eyes lidded. The rule was that the first to wake up had to make coffee for the rest, so there was a certain amount of chicanery and deceit when it came to waking up. But there was no mistake. Everyone was asleep, and if Karel wanted coffee, he'd have to make it for himself, which meant he'd have to make it for everyone.

He thought about how badly he wanted coffee, gave up, and stretched, yawning.

The rain had not slackened off in the slightest. It hadn't slackened off for the past month, so Karel hadn't really expected it to. He did note the weak grey light outside and knew it was day. Or what passed for day up here. He thought of clear summer days on Duelists' Street back home, carrying banners demonstrating against the Kishak government and sighed, pushing himself up to his feet and shuffling over to the counter to start on the coffee.

Of course as soon as he got up, everyone else opened their eyes, happy that somebody else was making the morning round.

*****

Neither Arrafin nor Elena had gotten much sleep. After making their way back to the del Maraviez house, they'd spent several hours trading observations on what they'd witnessed, terrifying each other even more than they already were.

The suicide of that man had rattled Elena deeply, and she'd talked long into the night, speculating about what had caused such a reaction. She'd remained up long after she heard snores coming from Arrafin's cot.

They awoke to bustle and clatter and voices downstairs, and dressing hurriedly, found themselves in time for breakfast. Aubrey and Philip were finishing up, while Nevid was still going with a young man's appetite. Ambrose and Neria bustled about and greeted the women with scowls but served out eggs and roasted cuts and potatoes as Arrafin and Elena seated themselves.

Aubrey and Philip exchanged glances, then the Pavairellean man spoke.

"We're thinking we should go back to the coffee shop, see what else those folks know. I don't think they told us everything."

Elena nodded. "I don't think anybody's told us anything." She glanced at Ambrose and noted how the man's hands shook as he poured tea.

Thumping boots on the stairs and Boyce came into the dining room with a big smile for everyone.

"Exciting night for you folks, I guess."

He crashed into a chair and leaned back, still grinning.

Elena tried to be offended but gave up. Boyce was probably a thief and certainly a liar, but he was just too overwhelmingly charming to stay mad at.

"We could have used your help, Boyce." Philip evidently found Boyce less charming than Elena.

The Gap rogue put his hands behind his head and nodded sagely.

"Well, now, Philip, my lad, I could fetch the contract for you but I swear to you on the grave of my blessed mother there's not a word in it about stomping about in the rain after things what can slaughter our entire company's mounts in one go. But I do hope you had fun. Did you get to shoot your guns at it?"

Philip glowered. "You're not much of a caravan guard now, are you?"

Boyce spread his hands in a gesture of innocence. "It's not much of a caravan anymore, is it? Guess we won't be taking any silver back to the Fort, now will we? Unless you're offering those broad shoulders of yours."

Philip sighed and stood up. "Let's go."

After a moment's hesitation, Aubrey and Nevid rose and the three went out, followed quickly by Arrafin as she wolfed down the last of her breakfast, calling out for them to wait, she just needed to grab her notebooks and a pen and maybe she should bring her maps...

Elena and Boyce grinned at each other.

*****

When Iseut came back she was clutching Trazik, but there was nothing of romance in the girl's shattered face. Elena came over, blinking back tears, and guided the girl to a sofa.

"I'm so sorry. We... we were too slow. Maybe we could have -- "

Vlad cut her off. "Maybe you could have what? Haven't you people been listening to us? There's nothing we can do. You, her, any of us. Nothing."

Aubrey inspected his boots. They were covered in mud.

"I think we should go check out the mines."

Everyone turned to him.

"That's where all this started, right? Let's go down there and see what they found."

Philip was the first to put words to the question all of them were wondering about.

"What about that big white thing? It might be in there somewhere."

Aubrey shrugged. "It just ate two whole parasaurs. It can't be hungry again."

"You people are crazy!" Ilonka shouted, "If that thing doesn't get you, Mara will. Why are you doing this?"

Arrafin put up her hand and smiled at everyone before she spoke. "I'm curious. Aren't you? I want to know what... all this... is about. And how did Mara learn to speak Calegrian? Maybe she IS Calegrian and was imprisoned down there..."

"You're crazy!"

"No, you crazy!"

The last voice was that of a little girl, high-pitched and amused, and everyone jumped at the sound, spinning or twisting about to see the small figure in the doorway.

Ilonka put a hand on her chest and leaned against the counter, closing her eyes in relief.

"You crazy!"

The little girl was not Kishak. It wasn't this Mara that Ilonka and her friends had been telling the newcomers about. She was Yshakan, dark-skinned and with long hair pulled back into intricate braids, dressed in a bright woolen tunic and with mud-covered moccasins. She looked about at all the adults with great satisfaction.

"Hello, Atranztipac."

"Hello!"

The Yshakan girl marched smugly across the room to put a hand on Ilonka's leg. She looked up at the woman and beamed.

"Say hello to our new friends, Atranztipac."

"No!"

Ilonka rolled her eyes. She looked over at the other and explained. "There's a whole tribe of Yshakans that live here, in the shacks across town. They work in the mines, but they don't mix with us much, except for Atranztipac here. She's kind of adopted us."

"No!"

The woman sighed. "She doesn't really speak Imperial Kishak, though, so conversation can get a little strained."

Arrafin, smiling, came over and squatted in front of the Yshakan girl. "Hi there. I'm Arrafin."

Atranztipac punched Arrafin in the face and the Naridic woman fell backwards. Atranztipac seemed very pleased with herself and laughed.

Ilonka smacked the little girl in the head and helped Arrafin back to her feet.

"She likes to fight, too."

"Uh, yeah." Arrafin scowled at Atranztipac and stalked back to her seat, fuming. She didn't realize that the Yshakan child had followed her back to the table until little pudgy reached up and grabbed a half-dozen papers. Arrafin just managed to yank them free, and Atranztipac dodged the Naridic woman's backhand blow easily, chuckling. She noticed Aubrey's rapier and scuttled over, nearly dragging the weapon free before he managed to snap a hand on it and stand up.

"Let's go check it out. We need to know what's down there. What we're dealing with." The others stood and headed for the door.

"I come!" shouted Atranztipac.

"I don't think so."

Ilonka shrugged. "She knows the way up to the mine entrances. Atranztipac, take them to the mine, you understand? The mine."

"No! This way."

Aubrey, Elena, Philip, Nevid and Arrafin passed out into the rain, following Atranztipac's determined stride.


----------



## LostSoul

More, please!


----------



## Avarice

Wow this is good, and if the bits and pieces that I remember reading about in other threads are any guide, its only going to get better.  I'll second LostSoul.  More, please!  More!


----------



## Talix

Hey Barsoomcore, nice story hour!  Usually I'm less interested in non-traditional D&D, but as others have said you've got a really engaging style.    I look forward to more!


----------



## LostSoul

Bump-ba-dump.


----------



## barsoomcore

*Tour Packages*

Aubrey was happy just to be out of the rain. Water still sluiced past his boots, a steady flow down into the heart of the mine, into the blackness beneath him, but at least he was out of the rain.

He looked up at the shaft entrance, growing smaller and smaller as he descended. Along the rope above him clung his comrades, each of them walking backwards down the forty-five degree slope of the shaft. Except Arrafin, who was too exhausted and just slumped in the harness Aubrey had rigged for her, letting the others carry her insignificant weight downwards. She rummaged in her book bag and complained that it was too dark to read.

Aubrey's torch lit the walls and ceiling of the shaft with dim, flickering redness, but the tunnels to either side remained black and opaque as he went by. Straight to the bottom was their plan, reasoning that since the miners had stopped digging after Yannick uncovered whatever it was that he uncovered, it must have been found at the lowest point in the mine. After a long, long backwards descent, Aubrey saw the base of the shaft appearing out of the gloom behind him.

"Almost there," he called out, "I can see the bottom."

In a few moments they were all standing there, on loose jagged rocks beneath a good six inches of water. Arrafin was shivering from the cold and they hurriedly moved out of the shaft into the narrow tunnel that extended off into the mountainside. Philip lit a torch as well and they made their way along the rough channel, trying not to think about the vast weight of stone pressing down upon them.

"Wait, wait." Elena knelt down, tugging at something in the rocks underfoot. She stood up with a tuft of bushy white hair in her fingers.

What that implied appeared immediately on everyone's faces. Philip looked up, trying to imagine that immense creature forcing its way through this narrow passage. It could just barely fit, he decided, but it couldn't have been very comfortable.

"Well," said Aubrey with his usual bravado, "We'll be able to run much faster than him in this place, I'm sure. And hey, I don't have to run faster than him -- I just have to run faster than Philip."

Everyone chuckled at that and, looking at each other, they all took a deep breath and plunged deeper into the mine.

*****

Gap folks were crazy. Just plain crazy. Ilonka didn't know what else to say, watching Iseut and this Boyce character talking.

The girl's parents and younger brother had just been slaughtered and there she was, talking animatedly about a duel she'd fought when she was thirteen. Boyce didn't seem to think there was anything strange about that.

Crazy.

Trazik looked a little more sour than usual as he joined her at the counter.

"I told you to stay away from her."

Trazik glared. "You told me to go get her, you cow."

"What an impertinent suggestion. Me? I'm the very model of decorum and tact. As if." Ilonka elbowed Trazik in the ribs, unable to keep from grinning.

"Is that your tongue hanging out decorously? You haven't taken your eyes off de Geronton since he came in."

Ilonka's elbow acquired a little more force. But she sighed, watching Boyce's expressive face burst into delight at the finish of Iseut's tale.

"Yeah, he's... okay. You know. For a guy."

"Slut."

"Pig."

Trazik went behind the counter to help himself to some bread, absently putting up the dried dishes as he did so. He looked up to see Ilonka still staring across the shop at Boyce. He recalled kissing her at her front door once, at her insistence, since she was about to go to her first dance and she was sure a boy would try to kiss her and so she needed to practice and... As long as he could remember she had been mooning over other boys and complaining about them to him.

He cut himself two slices of bread and set to toasting them over the stove.

*****

"This looks pretty clear to me, I have to say."

Philip surveyed the spray of stone fragments from the doorway, the tufts of white hair here and there.

"Big and Nasty was in there, our miner friends found the door and boom! out he came."

Nevid considered the doorway, comparing the worked stone of the lintel with the rough chiseling of the mineshaft.

"How did he get in there in the first place? Who made this? How did it end up way down here, in solid rock? This isn't possible."

"Well, let's not stand around here." Now that a mystery had presented itself to her, Arrafin was eager to get moving. She stepped forwards, and was about to clamber through the shattered doorway when Elena, Aubrey and Philip all reached out to stop her.

"Maybe somebody else should go first." Aubrey stepped past her and carried his torch into the darkness beyond.

"Okay, Arrafin, get in here."

*****

In a dank room, filled with smoke and the stink of unwashed bodies, an old man leaned over a bowl that swirled with dark fluid. Chanting voices, faces only half-lit from the sputtering candles. A low, murmuring chant that wound up and down in volume and pitch but never stopped, never slackened.

The old man hissed. "Queen of Serpents, protect us."

A child began crying nearby. The chant wore on. The old man held up a knife.

"Once again your old enemies rise to torment your children. Once again your faithful call upon your wisdom and power. Protect us, Quitzlicoatl. Deliver us from your ancient enemies."

The knife cut flesh. Blood dripped into the bowl.

"Save us!"

*****

"Ooh, pictures."

Arrafin stumbled into the dusty passage and craned her neck to look up at the carving that covered one entire wall. She got so lost in the details of the image that she completely ignored the rest of her friends clambering over the rubble behind her.

"Wow. These are... these are ancient."

Aubrey studied the inches of dust piled along the walls. He tried to keep the sarcasm out of his voice and partially succeeded. "Really."

There wasn't as much dust as he'd expected, actually, and the few cobwebs up near the ceiling looked as if they'd barely survived a good sweeping.

"Are those claw marks? Those big gouges in the stone?"

Nevid was not panicking. He told himself that over and over again. Not panicking. Just a gigantic monster that carved stone with its toes. Nothing to panic over.

Arrafin gestured irritably at Philip as the big Saijadani moved away, taking his torch with him. He sighed and stood next to the girl, allowing her to start making sketches of the bas-relief carved into the wall. Aubrey, Elena and Nevid continued down the passage, peering into the gloom and following the gouges backwards. Arrafin muttered to herself in Naridic shaking her head.

She had seen carvings very like these before. On the Tukar Frieze, an ancient slab displayed at the Al-Tizim University. One of the few artifacts of the ancient Calegrian empire left. These were Calegrian carvings. In a mine in the north of Lasseux. It wasn't possible.

"Look at these, Philip. See this woman here, with the sticky-outy hair? She shows up here, and here and here. Look at how these people are bowing to her. Those are kings, see the rods? And look, are they dancing around her? What's going on here?"

Philip allowed how he might not be an expert on ancient bas-reliefs.

Elena stopped the others, listening. Nevid nodded and pointed up ahead. They took another few steps forward and the narrow passage opened to the right, the archway nothing more than a field of impenetrable blackness. Looking back, Aubrey could see Isaac standing next to Arrafin as the girl continued sketching like mad. The two torches, his and Isaac's lit only small pools around themselves, and between the two parties stretched a dark gulf where nothing could be seen.

"Well, let's have a look."

The three of them crept up to the archway, the passage continuing past into darkness. They peered into the room beyond.

Three slabs lay stretched out in parallel across the foor, each supporting a withered, rag-wrapped corpse. The torchlight flickered across their skeletal faces, the empty eyesockets filling each of the three explorers with horror.

"They're going to sit up and attack us any second, aren't they? The bastards." Anger was Elena's usual fear management system.

"I'll be bitterly disappointed if they don't." Light-hearted sarcasm was Aubrey's.

"Let's get out of here. This is bad." Nevid lacked a system entirely.

Isaac dropped the torch when he heard yelling erupt from down the hall. He charged down the passage, drawing both pistols and calling out for his friends.

Aubrey was not disappointed. The bodies, all three of them, sat up and lurched forward as expected. The one he fired his pistol at did not seem much incommoded by the ball, which passed straight through the brittle body and ricochetted off the far wall. Elena drew her sword and hacked at a reaching limb, backing away with a shriek of disgust. Isaac burst in and charged one, driving the dessicated thing backwards. The talons of its fingers clawed at his face in frenzied scrabbling, slicing open one cheek and drawing a curse as he let go with both guns into the thing's head.

Skull fragments blew across the room and Isaac turned to see both Aubrey and Elena being driven back by the other two horrors. He took a step and then reeled as long claws dug into his waist. He looked over his shoulder in shock as the corpse he'd just explosively beheaded took another swipe at him.

Nevid's terror vanished the instant the things sat up. He never considered drawing his sword, since he barely knew which end of it to stick in his opponent. He stepped aside as Isaac came in, and noted how little effect swords and pistols were having. Deliberately, but with great economy of movement, he slipped a coil of fine silk rope out of his shoulder bag, watching the battle as he did so.

Aubrey and Elena retreated to a corner of the room, helping each other hold the things at bay. Elena had a bad cut on her arm and neither of them seemed to be able to do much damage to their undead opponents. Isaac's big heavy sword seemed more effective, and he was methodically chopping his enemy into bits.

With two steps Nevid crossed to where Aubrey and Elena were, the two creatures with their backs to him as they silently reached out for his friends. He made a wide loop in the rope and threw it over the two, then yanked backwards with all his strength.

All Nevid's strength wasn't very much, but he weighed enough that he was able to drag them a few steps back. Elena got enough room to wind up properly then and nearly chopped one in half, and by then Isaac had joined them, and between the lot of them they managed to bash the things into inert splinters of bone. The four victors looked round at each other, eyes a little wild.

Aubrey grinned. "If that's the worse this place has for me, I may move in."

Arrafin screamed from out in the hall.

"I'll check the plumbing first, of course."


----------



## Altin

Awesome ... just awesome. 

I believe I shall be swiping the pistols and steampunkesque feel for the next game I run ... they certainly add a certain something. 

You know, along with the swashbuckling cards this will be the second thing I'm blatantly stealing from your games.  I kindly ask you remember the whole 'imitation sincerest form of flattery' buisness and not sue my ass. 

Yours,
Altin


----------



## barsoomcore

Altin said:
			
		

> *I kindly ask you remember the whole 'imitation sincerest form of flattery' buisness and not sue my ass. *



I find it hilarious that people consider imitating me, since all I've ever done is imitate others. That's how it goes, I guess.

I have no interest in your ass. It's all yours, my friend.


----------



## Warrior Poet

Whoa, whoa, whoa ... 

... page 2?

Not a moment too soon!  Off to page 1 with this excellent story hour!

Warrior Poet


----------



## barsoomcore

*Friendly Service*

Atranztipac made short work of Boyce, kneecapping the handsome Gap rogue with a plank she'd pried up from the floorboards. As he cursed and collapsed into the chair, the obnoxious little girl caught sight of Michel, the young boy who lived in the West Dormitory. He'd just come in the front door of the cafe and turned in horror at the sudden shriek, only to find Atranztipac charging him, brandishing the plank over her head.

The boy, who was no bigger than the Yshakan girl, let out a bone-chilling scream and pelted for the counter, where Ilonka stood. She winced but stood firm as Atranztipac approached. Fortunately the little girl decided not to attack Ilonka, and the Pavairellean woman leaned against the counter in relief.

"Atranztipac, be nice."

"No."

"Atranztipac."

"No."

Boyce was clutching his knee and looking a thousand sorts of venom at the girl. Trazik and Karel were helpless with laughter on the couch. Vlad, behind the counter and angry with Ilonka to begin with, only scowled. Atranztipac raised the plank and prepared to charge.

Michel, against all expectation, rushed out from behind Ilonka's skirts and barrelled into the little girl and the children, shrieking furiously, rolled across the floor, locked in mortal combat. Grown-ups bustled in to break up the fight.

*****

"Arrafin? Arrafin?"

The hallway outside was blackness and the light from their torch did not reach all the way back to where Arrafin had been, sketching the bas-relief. Aubrey and Philip charged back down the hall, with Elena and Nevid right behind.

"I'm here."

Arrafin came into view as they neared the carvings, feeling about on the floor for the torch Philip had left behind.

"The torch went out. Sorry. Did you find anything?"

The others exchanged some looks. Aubrey spoke.

"Nothing really. But the passage continues on. Why don't we stick together for a while?"

Arrafin nodded, her wild curls shaking as she did so.

"Good idea."

The five headed deeper down the dark passageway, past the archway and into a room. A big room, from the sudden echoes they heard all around. The torch did not give off enough light to see the walls, but the floor before them was strangely textured. Philip crouched down and came up with a shard of pottery in his hand.

"Floor's covered in these. A potter's shop smashed to pieces."

"Well, given that Big, White and Hungry came through here, I'm not surprised the pottery's broken," said Aubrey, "But what was it all doing down here in the first place?"

Nobody had an answer and gingerly they made their way across the field of shattered fragments. Clay snapped and crunched under their feet, and the echoes ringing back from the unseen walls seemed sinister, fraught with hostile intent.

Nevid swore very quietly and knelt. The others stopped and saw him stand up with a knife in his hand.

Not just any knife. A very particular knife. A knife that each of them was familiar with. Or at least, a knife of such distinctive aspect that each of them recognized it right away.

Small, with a simple hilt and single crossguard. A straight blade with a triangular tip that would have been nearly a foot long, had it been straight. But instead, it curved back and forth along its entire length so that it total length was a little less than eight inches, looking for all the world as though someone had driven the point into something too hard to pierce, and rather than break the blade had accordion-ed itself into this shape. Only one group of people in all Barsoom used such weapons.

"The Blood Council."

Elena took a step back, eyeing Nevid with real fear. He noticed the sudden anxiousness in his friends and protested.

"No, no. I found this. Just now. I stepped on it. Look, it's all rusty."

The air grew decidedly less tense as the others came in for a closer look. Aubrey turned to Arrafin.

"What does the Blood Council have to do with this place? Any ideas?"

The Naridic woman shook her head.

"No, no idea. Well, the story is that Ky'in was destroyed by Suelekar Ben Azan and his friend, Farouk ibn Zaoud. Now Essermane Varag, whose tomb I think this is..."

She shuddered and looked up at the rough-hewn stone of the ceiling.

"...He was one of Ky'in's lieutenants. So if he was buried here, then..."

Her voice trailed off and her eyes lost their focus. The others frowned, waiting for her to continue. Philip shrugged.

"If he's buried here, well and good. Maybe he left some trinkets behind."

*****

Anxious faces awaited the old man's judgement. Chipucuaro stayed with his head bowed, smoke curling up around his white hair. Matzatlipoc's chubby face twisted in horror and he rose to his feet, stumbled back.

"No! This cannot be!"

Chipucuaro nodded.

"You know what we saw. There is hope."

"But..."

"No."

Chipucuaro spoke without room for debate. The rest of the elders understood what was meant. Their Oldest One would never leave this place. The chipactli would consume him. But some of the People might escape.

Chipucuaro could not get to his feet without help. His frail wife took one arm and his strong daughter the other and they raised him up. He gripped his weather-beaten staff and leaned heavily on it, looking back and forth around the circle of elders.

"The chipactli cannot be defeated. Many of us will not escape this place. But some will. New arrivals have come. They will lead us out. They must have our help or all will perish."

The elders looked between each other anxiously. The only new arrivals were the caravan guards, and they were not of the People. Surely they were not being asked to put their faith in Southerners?

"We must go with them. We cannot stay."

"But... must so many die?"

"Darkness comes."

*****

"Now that's a right big hole. I'd have to be pretty pissed off to make a hole that big."

Philip looked around at the rest of his companions, all of whom were staring at the great rent in the wall in varying degrees of shock. Chunks of stone lay strewn about the pottery shards, and it was obvious that some great force had caused the thick wall to simply explode outwards.

Elena nodded.

"It might help if you were thirty feet tall, I bet."

Aubrey chimed in.

"And had been imprisoned down here for a couple of thousand years."

As a group they picked their way through the splinters and the rubble and peered through the large gap in the wall.

"Somebody light another torch."

With a bit more illumination they could see that they were looking down into a great hall, one that stretched off into the darkness. The hall was home to rows of what looked like stone booths, flat-topped and seven or eight feet on a side. Two nearby had been broken open by falling rock. The place was utterly silent. Only their breathing could be heard.

Aubrey frowned.

"Where do you suppose they kept him?" 

None of the booths were anywhere near big enough to contain the beast they had seen last night.

Elena nodded.

"And who do you suppose THEY are?"

Nevid shook.

"And do they have any more like him still down here?"

"Ooh, I never thought of that. I wonder what's in these things..?"

The entire group slid down the pile of rubble into the hall, following Arrafin as she stumbled up to one of the odd structures. Then rushing forward as she recoiled, pale and shaking.

"They're tombs..."

Inside they saw a stone bier, supporting most of the body of a young Kishak man. He seemed extraordinarily well-preserved for someone covered in the amount of dust he was covered in. Except for his head, which had been crushed by a massive fall of stone. Elena's eyes widened as she noticed a sudden movement. His finger. It was wiggling.

She pointed and the entire group stood perfectly still, mesmerised by that tiny motion. They all looked at each other, their eyes wide. Pressed together, moving as a unit, they backed away from the bier and its enclosing tomb and moved over to the next one, which had also been broken open by falling rock.

Inside this one lay an empty bier, without any body upon it. The heavy dust that lay on the stone outlined a body that had once lain there.

A small body. The size of a child. Bare footbprints led from bier to the door of the tomb.


----------



## Talix

Wow, talk about your creepy settings!


----------



## barsoomcore

*Historical Landmarks*

Ilonka gratefully accepted Vlad's offer of a seat on the couch. The shop had been packed since mid-morning, and even though everyone was quiet there seemed to be more work to do than she and Trazik could handle. Vlad and Karel pitched in, even on their day off, and now, in the early afternoon lull, they at last got a chance to relax.

Trazik carried a last tray of cups and plates back to the counter. The clinking of silverware provided ringing accents to the constant drumming of the rain.

"Won't it EVER stop raining!?"

Ilonka put her hands over her face, stretched out her legs and flopped backwards.

"Yeah, 'cause I could really get to like this place if it were a little sunnier."

She peered through her fingers at Trazik who was smirking at her as he set the tray down. He pretended surprise and shock when she stuck her tongue out at him.

Vlad stood at the door, looking outside.

"You know, I'm starting to think that it couldn't be much worse, trying to walk out of here. Get some waterskins, some biscuits, and just go."

He turned to face them all.

"We have to get out of here. We're all going to die if we stay."

*****

Little footprints ran back and forth in the dust. Big footprints obscured them from time to time. The group had advanced past the first rank of tombs and now looked up and down an aisle between two rows of the structures, with dark alleys running across to either side. There were footprints leading off into the distance in both directions.

"I don't see any of the big ones off to the right."

Aubrey peered into the darkness, holding a torch above him.

"Right it is, then."

Moving slowly and constantly turning in circles as they progressed, the group passed three or four tombs before discovering the chamber wall, running across their direction of travel. Again they looked right and left. To the right it appeared that they could see the back wall of the large chamber, but to the left Elena thought she saw an opening. They turned left.

Philip raised his torch and they all studied the sigil carved into the rough stone above the dark archway.

"What do you suppose that says? Arrafin?"

The Naridic girl bit her lip as she considered.

"Well, I don't recognize it, but I think it says something like, 'No scary little Kishak girls beyond this point.'"

When everyone turned to her in confusion, she pointed down at the floor. The footprints gathered up around the archway, but not one crossed through it. There were a few moments of worried silence.

"Fine."

Philip sighed and stepped through the archway. Everyone discovered they'd tensed themselves up and relaxed when nothing happened. In a rush, they all hurried to follow their burly companion.

Beyond, the air seemed different. Their footsteps no longer kicked up clouds of silent dust, and the oppression of the previous chambers evaporated. At first, they smiled at each other, a sense of escape lightening their stride as they made their way down the narrow hall.

With each step, however, a deep unease grew within them. Nevid studied the walls as they continued. The stonework here was smooth and precise, no marks to mar the surface or even indicate how this passage was made. The air grew cold.

At the front, Philip strained his eyes into the the ever-retreating darkness before him. Floor, walls, ceiling, featureless. At last he saw the walls on either side end, and stepped forward into a small chamber. The others crowded in behind him.

"Is that what I think it is?"

They all stared up at the hilt of the massive black sword leaning against the wall. The point of the sword rested on the floor of the room a foot or so from Philip's toe. The crossguard was at least a foot above his head. Possibly two.

"If you think it's bad trouble in every possible way, then yes."

*****

Boyce was used to the smell of oil and gunpowder. He and his lads, Michel and Nervaine, loaded their many, many guns and sharpened their many, many blades. They slid weapons into sheaths hidden all over their persons, tested positioning and balance, tightened straps and laced up armour plates under their clothes. They worked without words, reaching past each other to grab ramrods and flints, whetstones and rags.

They were supposed to be caravan guards.

Every so often one would cast an eye out the window, consider the rooftops and the driving rain.

Boyce's normally cheerful and friendly face was frozen in an intense frown as he adjusted the hang of a side sheath, testing its position with quick movements of his right hand. The knife was a curved, broad-bladed weapon, great for punching through armour or leaving behind in the back of a leg.

They were supposed to be caravan guards.

These men were not your typical Gap warriors, full of bravado and integrity and honour. They were experienced killers, uninterested in conventions of conduct or fair play. They were not preparing for battle. They were preparing for survival.

They were supposed to be caravan guards.

Boyce began swearing to himself, quietly and without emotion.

*****

The four Pavairelleans stood together at the door of their little shop.

Nobody wanted to speak so Ilonka did.

"Speaker said if anybody left they'd be killed."

Vlad shrugged.

"Speaker said if anybody talked they'd be killed and we all talked last night, didn't we?"

Trazik sighed, tried to grin.

"I can't imagine things getting any worse. We're all going to die up here, we know that."

The rain came down in staggering volume. Ilonka turned away and headed back to the counter.

"We'll need food. Heat or fire or something. Carry some coals in a pot, maybe?"

She began rooting around in the cupboards. After a moment the three young men came back and started helping. She gave them a look.

"Should we plan for four only? Or more?"

They all thought of the five strangers who'd left that morning to investigate the mines. Who had not yet returned.

Trazik pursed his lips and stared down at the floor.

"Maybe five."

He shrugged as the others grinned.

"She's a very nice girl."

*****

Opposite the massive sword the wall opened into a sheet of total darkness. At first Aubrey had thought it another archway, but as he approached it he realised the blackness filling it was far more complete than what they had encountered so far. He reached out towards it, but before his finger got halfway there, his hand snapped back against his chest as thought he'd touched something hot.

"Hey. Anyone know what this is?"

Even as he spoke, Aubrey felt a sudden panic erupt within him. He couldn't help taking a step back as the dark opening suddenly seemed hostile, malevolent. The others joined him. In silence they considered the strange phenomenon.

"It's sure dark. Anyone want to try stepping through?"

No volunteers came forward at Elena's question. Nevid nodded.

"This is where they put that guy."

"Huh?"

"That guy, Esserwhatever, Arrafin was talking about. That they put down here."

Arrafin's huge eyes got even huger.

"Essermane Varag?"

Elena shook her head.

"You know, I've never heard of this guy before, but that name is just bad. Bad news. I don't like him."

Aubrey shrugged.

"You don't even know him."

"Well, yeah, that's kind of my point. I don't want to know him."

When Arrafin spoke, it was not with her usual gusto. Her voice was hushed and reverent.

"_The days of great King Suelekar Azan, 
  All filled with honey, ripe with richest fruit, 
  Brought down by terrors now unknown to man, 
  Which all his glories would with hate uproot, 
  And crush beneath the dreaded Varag's boot, 
  For Essermane, First Raven of Tizim, 
  Came then to our fair land to persecute 
  Us; those who died escaped a fate more grim; 
For only death could end submission to his whim._"

She stood silently for a few seconds, then smiled gamely up at the others.

"That's why I came here. It's called _The Third Raven_, it's an old poem, well, about two hundred years back. It's about Gedak Gan's attack on Al-Tizim. Gedak Gan's the Third Raven, Tathak Tan is the Second Raven, and Essermane Varag is called the First. But nobody really knows who Essermane Varag was. All we know is that he must have predated the Kishak Empire, so the idea is that he's Calegrian. Which makes him a lieutenant or a general or something of Ky'in.

"I found some clues in manuscripts at the University that led me to believe he was killed in a battle up here in the mountains and buried here. I think the town of Chimney takes its name from the fortress that stood here once. Somebody buried him here."

She turned sober eyes to the sheet of blackness.

"And stuck him behind that thing."

*****

The People gathered in the little square that their shacks encircled. Chipucuaro raised his hands.

"Quitzlicoatl has spoken. She has shown us our future."

He dropped his hands and scowled.

"Death. Death for us if we stay. Death for us if we leave."

Children frowned, looked up at their parents in confusion. The People stood. The colours of their beaded tunics bled together in the murk, robbed of their proud brilliance. Dark eyes and straight black hair on all sides, solemn and patient. Chipucuaro sighed.

"We leave. The Southerners will lead you out of this place. Not all will die. We must gather Dark Water and preserve it for the trip. Not all will die. The Queen of Serpents has shown me."

Tears burst from him, lost in the downpour, but triggering sobs from all of the People surrounding him. Together, they grieved for what they knew was coming.

*****

"Maybe this book explains things."

Nevid had stepped away from the dark panel and found an alcove with not only the book he'd mentioned, but also a plain oaken staff topped with three red feathers. He examined the staff while the others crowded around the book. Arrafin was pushed to the front and studied the faded glyphs on the page.

The book was not so much a book as a block of stone carved to look like a book. Even as she began reading, it occured to Arrafin that this meant the Calegrians had modern bookbinding technology, which was pretty interesting.

"It's Calegrian. I've studying this quite a bit now."

The others waited quietly while Arrafin read to herself. That got dull very quickly and Elena, Philip and Aubrey wandered back to the black sheet. Philip held his torch close to it.

"It seems to ripple. See that?"

He reached out and, steeling himself, touched the surface.

Arrafin shrieked as Philip flew back across the room with a tremendous bang, smoke trailing from his hand. Everyone yelled and rushed over to him, except for Nevid, who went up to the panel himself.

"What the-- Are you okay?"

Elena and Aubrey helped a dazed Philip to his feet. He saw Nevid reaching out and cried out.

"What are you --!?"

Another bang, another shriek, and Nevid lay at Philip's feet. Aubrey chuckled once he saw the young Saijadani was okay.

Arrafin's voice put an end to laughter. She stared at the blackness with growing horror.

"Essermane Varag IS behind that. He was sealed in there. Forever. By the Queen of Serpents. I think Ky'in herself made this place, just to hold him."


----------



## LostSoul

Cool...


----------



## Mr Fidgit

great story so far barsoomcore!

so when do we get another update?   _nudge-nudge_


----------



## barsoomcore

*Quaint Customs*

"What's going on? Are they holding a parade?"

Ilonka stared, puzzled, out the doorway at the Yshakans struggling along the muddy street in front of the coffee shop. It looked like nearly the whole... tribe, or nation, or gang or whatever they called themselves. They appeared very exotic to the Pavairellean woman, with their beads and straw ponchos and strange headresses. Even with the rain plastering their outfits into submission, she found them regal and fascinating.

No smiles. Grim faces of determination plodded past, intent on making their way out of town and up towards the mine.

Karel, usually the one with the sarcastic remark, watched in silence.

"They know something. Maybe there's something they can do."

"Yeah, or maybe they're working with that Mara and they're going up to kill those del Maraviez yahoos."

Vlad, of course, always found a way to make any bad situation seem worse.

*****

"This can't get any worse, can it?"

Nobody answered Aubrey, so he shrugged and kept hauling himself up the sloping shaft. Water had soaked their rope while they'd explored the tomb or vault or whatever it was and the hemp was slimy under his fingers. The climbing was still easy, however, and as he walked up towards the pinhole of light above he felt the others pulling themselves up behind him.

Nevid shook as he put one hand in front of the other, stepping carefully with his feet as he followed Aubrey. The shock of that black wall's power, the way it had seared his nerves without seeming to harm him at all -- Nevid was deeply disturbed. He stared at the rope, half-expecting it to transform into something terrible beneath his hands. Everything around seemed malevolent suddenly, dangerous and slippery.

Elena scowled. Her steady tread up the sloping floor of the mineshaft went on automatically while she tried to understand the situation they seemed to be trapped in. Ancient history and forgotten languages didn't mean much to her, but there was no mistaking the seriousness of their plight. That big white thing could turn them all into paste without much effort, and whatever was going on with the Kishak girl was not something Elena wanted any part of. She shuddered, thinking of the old man's suicide. Terrible images on all sides.

Arrafin made a pretense of pulling herself up along the rope, but before long she couldn't reach up anymore and just slumped in her harness, watching Elena's back above her. Her quick mind raced, trying to encompass the implications of what she'd discovered. Essermane Varag, real and buried right here. Inscriptions claiming to be in the very hand of Ky'in herself. She thought of her father, how thrilled he'd be. She smiled to herself, imagining the conversation she'd have, explaining this whole adventure and how she'd found the carvings and the inscriptions and everything. She itched to return home and with new strength set about pulling herself upwards.

Philip kept looking into the darkness behind him. He turned around to face front, watch Arrafin's skinny frame bob along behind Elena, but the image of the terrible white monster crawling silently out from below kept springing to mind and he'd have to spin around, make sure it wasn't actually there. He chewed at his unlit cigar with fierce concentration.

"Um, hey. Something's coming down towards us. Any ideas?"

"I guess this just got worse."

*****

Even after he'd seen her tear a man's head off, Boyce found it difficult to shoot at a little girl.

When she turned toward him and hissed it got a lot easier.

The bullet struck her breastbone and she flew backwards with a shriek. She crashed through a wall and disappeared in a sudden cloud of plaster dust and wooden splinters. Boyce, Michel and Nervaine ran out the front door, leaving behind sprays of blood and a ruined house. They slipped in the mud, nearly fell, got themselves under control and charged for the coffee shop. Hollering the whole way.

They crashed into the shop, wide-eyed and quivering with sharp edges. Boyce hurriedly began reloading his pistol.

Ilonka came out from behind the counter.

"What -- ?"

"She attacked. At the house. The little girl. She killed them, everybody, damnit!"

Boyce straightened up, drew his other pistol and pointed both at arm's length at the doorway. Nervaine looked confused.

"Boyce, you shot her. You shot her right in the chest. She's dead, Boyce."

Boyce never looked aside from the doorway.

"You want to go out there and find me her dead body, you go right ahead. You saw what she did."

Nervaine and Michel looked at each other, nodded, drew their guns and joined Boyce, staring out at the rain. Ilonka and the other Pavairelleans watched in fear.

Vlad stood up.

"You got any more guns?"

Boyce nodded slowly. He dropped a heavy sack onto a nearby table. Vlad pulled it open and out spilled another half-dozen pistols of various sizes. After a second, everybody grabbed one. They all stood, pointing the guns at the empty doorway. Ilonka felt better with the hefty chunk of steel in her hands. Trazik stood on one side of her, tall and scared-looking but reassuring all the same. Vlad was on the other side, calm as ever, his broad shoulders a comforting presence. Karel had a crazy grin on, and the gun in his hands was shaking.

Most of the guns were shaking.

*****

"These Yshakans are crazy."

Elena felt the need to whisper. Their guides had shown no sign of being able to speak a word of Imperial Kishak, but she kept quiet regardless.

"Where are we going? That thing could be rummaging around in here. It could be anywhere."

They made their way along a narrow, low-ceilinged passage cut through the rock, following the line of the ore. Up ahead a hundred Yshakan men and women moved in silence, only the swinging rushes of the clothing giving any sign of their presence. At the back of the procession, Elena, Aubrey, Nevid, Philip and Arrafin struggled along, trying to keep up with their silent vanguard.

"Maybe we shouldn't be following them. Maybe this is some big Yshakan thing. Maybe they're going to sacrifice and eat somebody. I heard they do that."

"They do not. Don't be foolish."

"Oh, you're some kind of expert on Yshaka?"

"Guys, we have bigger things to worry about."

"Bigger than getting eaten? You need to rethink your priorities."

They moved on, deep beneath the dark earth, squabbling all the way.

*****

Dust settled in the room. It powdered the face of the middle-aged woman, disappeared into the spots of blood on her skin. The man's boot turned white as plaster dust drifted down on top of it. The rain pounded outside but in here everything was delicate and still. Only drops of blood, falling from the splintered table, added any sound to the scene.

Then a groan. Beams shifted and ground against each other. A slight, red-skinned form rose up from beneath a mass of shattered planks and lathes.

The little girl looked around the room. The mortals were gone. Out of habit, she reached down and pulled free an arm, started gnawing on it, but it did nothing for her hunger. One hand rubbed at her chest, the memory of that violent impact still clear to her extremely simple mind. She tore chunks of flesh from the severed arm and swallowed them, staring out the open doorway at the muddy street. Her eyes were dull and vacant.

She realised she recognized that building down the street. Her appallingly empty face suddenly lit up in a guileless smile and she looked for all the world like any other six-year-old.

Gnawing on a severed human arm.

She strode across the room, out the door and along the street.

*****

"Dark Water."

The Yshakans lit torches, revealing a vast chamber that stretched off out of sight, great flowing columns of stone rising into blackness. Their torches flickered as they formed a circle around a small pool. The five non-Yshakans watched in silence, awed by the grandeur of the cavern.

Chipucuaro turned from the water. His weathered face pulled into a friendly smile and he waved.

"Join us. Come. It is safe here."

With a few quizzical looks the five descended irregular slopes to stand next to the old chieftan.

"The chipactli cannot approach Dark Water. We are safe here. But you must lead us out."

The quizzical looks grew more quizzical. Aubrey spoke.

"Does anyone understand what the old guy is saying? That must be Yshakan. Arrafin, do you speak Yshakan?"

"Not a word."

"This could take a while."


----------



## barsoomcore

Shameless BUMP!


----------



## barsoomcore

*Day Trips*

Stark terror, Ilonka discovered, can only maintain itself for so long.

She lowered the gun and sighed.

"I'm tired. If she shows up, let me know."

Trazik followed suit. Eventually, all the others did as well. They dragged all the chairs together around one table and everyone sat quietly for a while. Boyce spoke up.

"I hate kids."

*****

"Long ago, in the time of legends, the People fought for the Queen of Serpents against the legions of the dead."

Mallinallin spoke slow, halting Imperial Kishak, but he was so ridiculously handsome and heroic in stature that even Elena couldn't help liking him. The old man, Chipucuaro, kept whispering in the warrior's ear, adding notes for the translation.

"The dead were no longer content with their lands beneath the surface and sought to create an empire under the sun. They were very angry and the People fought them for many years. At last the Queen of Serpents cast them down. The chipactli were defeated."

Arrafin was scribbling furiously in her notebook. Aubrey put up his hand.

"And this... Dark Water...? This keeps the... chipactli away?"

"Yes. This water rises up from the Buried Sea, which calls to the souls of the dead, weakening them. They will not approach Dark Water."

Philip looked across the pool, surrounded by Yshakans busily filling waterskins.

"Right. And that little girl, she's one of these chipactli? Excellent."

He began filling his waterskin. The others hurriedly followed his example.

Arrafin stopped her writing for a second and looked up at the distant, arching ceiling. She frowned.

"Is that thunder?"

Everyone paused, listening.

Aubrey sighed.

"I think those are footsteps."

From the darkness something huge roared, sending echoes crashing about them, bouncing around the cavern. Philip drew a pistol. Elena loaded her crossbow. Aubrey pulled out his rapier. Nevid sat down.

White and ghostly and massive, the beast rushed out of the gloom at the far end of the chamber into the circle of light provided by their torches. It flexed four arms and lifted its head in deafening challenge.

Philip had had enough. He shouldered his way to the front of the press of Yshakans and threw up his arms, bellowing at the gigantic creature.

It cocked its head and looked down at the mouthful-sized Saijadani. One huge, clawed foot lifted up and swept forward.

And stopped cold. The thing jerked its foot back as though having suddenly dipped its toe in searing acid. A cavern-shaking roar burst from its throat as it took several quick steps backward. Philip shouted after it.

"Yeah, you run, you freaky big... white thing!"

He chuckled as the beast disappeared into the darkness.

"Now we've got something to fight with. Bring on the dead."

His companions eyed each other worriedly. Aubrey leaned forward.

"Philip, last time you said something like that, I got shot."

He winced at the memory.

"I hate getting shot. I'm always getting shot around you."

Philip laughed.

"Don't worry about it. Let's just get out of here."

The Yshakans were already filing out of the cavern, back up the narrow tunnel they'd entered by, each clutching their precious waterskins filled with Dark Water.

Nevid bounced a full skin in his hands.

"How long does this stuff... stay fresh?"

Mallinallin patted him on the shoulder as he went by.

"A few days at least."

"But... it's at least a two-week walk out of this place, back to the highway. What are we going to do if those things come after us?"

Mallinallin smiled.

"We will die. Walk quickly."

*****

She knew her name was Mara. She knew she craved the flesh of the weak ones. Her memories were confusing to her and most of the time she shut them from her mind. She fed or she sat still until she was hungry.

The memory of the black wall, however, would not stay shut from her mind. Her lord, sealed in behind the wall, beyond her reach.

The little girl loved her lord. She would do anything to free him.

She remembered magic. Sorcerers. Priests. Ones with power. They could free her lord.

A frown crossed Mara's face. Images of weak ones, smiling at her. Smell of old leather and sawdust.

She closed her eyes and drove the strange thoughts from her mind. Her lord, entombed, with only her and the large one to save him.

She would find magic. She would find ones with power, bring them here to free her lord.

The little girl smiled to herself.

*****

Nevid had been through dangerous times before. He'd even gotten shot once, by accident, at an inn called the Four Towers.

It's possible, however, that he'd never come quite so near death as when he stumbled into the coffee shop that afternoon.

Half-a-dozen guns were snatched up and pointed in his direction. Karel even fired, though that was by accident and he was holding the pistol upside-down and just blew a hole in the ceiling.

There a few seconds' silence as plaster and wood chips settled on Karel's head, then Boyce burst out laughing. The hysteria spread. As the rest of Nevid's companions filed in, tired and wet and confused, Boyce, his companions and the four coffee-shop workers sprawled in their chairs, giggling and wheezing at each other.

"We're leaving."

They stopped laughing and looked over at Aubrey. He offered a lop-sided grin and shrugged.

"The Yshakans said so. This water keeps the bad guys away, so we're off. You lot coming with us?"

Trazik squinted and looked up at the ceiling.

"I don't know... I've gotten kinda used to this place..."

Ilonka smacked him across the back of the head.

"What do we do?"

"Round up everyone in town. Everyone alive. We'll meet on the road, just out of town. Be quick."

Boyce chuckled.

"Well, that's great, but my friends and I, we got something we need to do first. Anyone want to come with us to check out old Speaker's house?"

*****

"I can't believe you guys were going to rob us. We trusted you."

Arrafin managed to remain indignant even as she staggered through the ankle-deep mud alongside Boyce. Elena looked disgusted, but she always looked that way.

"We weren't going to rob YOU, sweetheart. We were going to rob the del Maraviez family. You're not even working for them, what do you care? You got some use for a few tons of silver?"

Philip interrupted the ongoing debate.

"Well, there won't be any silver for anyone, this time. What are you hoping to find?"

Boyce pointed down the road. The dark two-story mass of the Speaker's house loomed before them through the grey threads of driving rain. The others paused.

"You didn't hear? Those miners, the ones who found whatever it is they found down there, brought a whole passel of gold and jewelry and such things up with them. They're all stored in there."

"Yeah, but..."

*****

"You guys have done stuff like this before, right? Getting out of tough situations? This is probably no big deal for you, right?"

Ilonka watched as Aubrey stuffed another sack with biscuits, waiting for the swordsman to answer. He tied the sack shut and put it with the others. His usually confident smile twisted with unease as he turned to Ilonka.

"Yeah, we got a caravan through the Wadi Shir a few weeks ago. We were attacked by... well... by weird stuff. Walking corpses and so on. It was pretty scary."

"But you got away, right?"

"Sure. We got away."

"And the caravan was okay?"

Aubrey recalled the torn bodies and blood-soaked sand after the battle. The attack of the lions the next night, their pitiful band trying to defend against the savage beasts. The screams of those dragged away to be devoured.

"Yeah, the caravan was fine. Big party in the Fort once we got there."

He grabbed another sack and threw in handfuls of biscuits.

Across the room, Vlad watched the conversation with a mild glower burning in his eyes. Trazik nudged him.

"Forget about it. She's frightened, he's got a sword. You know how she is, Vlad."

Vlad turned to him.

"Don't tell me how she is. You love her so much, you ask her to marry you. Till then, shut up, okay?"

They continued working in silence.

*****

"See? I told you. Nervaine, Michel, start packing."

The house was filled with an indefinable sense of dread that just screamed "creepy" at everyone. Even Arrafin had fallen silent. Elena looked like she was ready to beat children to death, which is how she looked when she was frightened. Usually she looked like she was ready to beat adults to death.

The parlour had an empty, gaping fireplace that gazed sightlessly over a stack of bags and trunks overflowing with riches. Clatters and rattles echoed through the house as Boyce's men got to work gathering up the shiny goodies.

"Faster."

Philip pulled a pistol out of his belt. Overhead, the rain pummeled the tiles of the roof. Gold chains and strings of pearls crashed into backpacks.

"Come on. I want to get out of here."

Elena swore and drew her sword. Arrafin, eyes wide, clutched a heavy notebook to her chest. Michel stood up, bags and sacks jingling with packed wealth. Nervaine did the same.

"Let's go."

Philip put up a hand.

"Or not."

The little Kishak girl, her black hair neatly arranged over her shoulders, her eyes filled with curiousity and hunger, stood in the doorway.


----------



## Warrior Poet

Been too busy to drop in to the boards of late and make comments, but just a quick note to say this story is still as riveting, complex, and masterfully told as the first post.

Nice to see its development, the tension, action, and character progression!

Thanks again, and I look forward to more!

Warrior Poet


----------



## Altin

Ooo -- they're all dead this time for sure. Then again, I could swear they were all dead after the last update, and the one before that and so on ...

Damn, this is one tense game. Is it like this all the time or is this a particularly nasty section of the campaign? If the former, how is it your players haven't all turned into nervous wrecks or, alternatively, sociopaths? 

Yours,
Altin


----------



## barsoomcore

Altin said:
			
		

> *Damn, this is one tense game. Is it like this all the time or is this a particularly nasty section of the campaign? If the former, how is it your players haven't all turned into nervous wrecks or, alternatively, sociopaths? *



It's funny you should ask. The party as a whole staged a bit of a riot after this adventure concluded (you'll see why once we get there) and demanded a more light-hearted, positive kind of story.

I pretty much refused, told them just to trust me, that I knew what I was doing, and if they'd just hang in there it would reward them for their patience.

Much to their credit they agreed and since then it's all been roses.

Oh, except that they're now all sociopaths. Hee hee hee...


----------



## Carnifex

*Re: Day Trips*



			
				barsoomcore said:
			
		

> *
> 
> "Yeah, you run, you freaky big... white thing!"
> 
> He chuckled as the beast disappeared into the darkness.
> 
> "Now we've got something to fight with. Bring on the dead."
> 
> His companions eyed each other worriedly. Aubrey leaned forward.
> 
> "Isaac, last time you said something like that, I got shot."
> 
> He winced at the memory.
> 
> "I hate getting shot. I'm always getting shot around you."
> *




 Love it!


----------



## xrpsuzi

*very nice....*

It's so sad when you read and read and read and then you find yourself at the end of the thread with no more story.....

Especially such a well told story.
Ditto all the wonderful remarks, and I hope you keep telling them so I can keep reading them.

waiting for the next installment,

suzi

p.s. never mixed guns, melee weapons, dinosaurs, and ancient cults..... but it makes for a good story


----------



## barsoomcore

*Re: very nice....*



			
				suzi yee said:
			
		

> *never mixed guns, melee weapons, dinosaurs, and ancient cults..... but it makes for a good story  *



Neither had I, I have to admit. It seems so obvious, now.

Thanks to everyone for all the positive comments and feedback. It's been really overwhelming and touching and encouraging.

Another update coming soon... Promise!


----------



## Altin

Second page? How's anyone supposed to find it here? Up to the first you go.

Altin


----------



## LostSoul

Good stuff.


----------



## Avarice

Say there Barsoomcore old friend, not to crack the whip too loudly or anything, but isn't it about time for an update?  Please, don't make me have to grovel.


----------



## barsoomcore

*Easy Check-Out*

It occured to Nevid, as he sprinted towards the screaming, that the only times he ever evinced anything like courage were when it was completely suicidal to do so.

Before he could speculate on the implications of that, he skidded around the corner of a large building and cried out in shock and horror.

The huge white creature had torn the wall off what seemed to be some sort of barracks and was gathering up people in its claws. As he watched it stuffed two or three struggling bodies into its mouth and bit down. The screaming got suddenly louder, which confused him until he realised that he had begun screaming as well.

Recovering his wits fractionally, Nevid ran forward, waving his arms at the thing.

Hoping he could distract it from its meal. Hoping the water in the flask on his belt would have the same effect it had had underground. Hoping he wouldn't slip in the mud and fall flat on his face. He didn't want to die wet and covered in mud.

Or at all, now that he thought about it.

Such distractions kept him occupied as he pressed on, young men and women dressed in their nightclothes streaming past him on either side. He looked up and realised he was well within range of the huge monster's claws. So he stopped.

*****

Vlad stood up as voices grew louder outside. He and Trazik, who hadn't said a word to each other since's Vlad's angry outburst, exchanged a look and went to the door.

Just in time to get knocked backwards as three apprentices charged in, shrieking about some huge monster. Ilonka and Aubrey jumped up and tried to calm the boys down but more and more came pouring in and soon the coffee shop was awash in pandemonium as stories about a huge white monster filled the air.

Everyone turned as Nevid dragged himself up the steps and into the shop. He looked across the crowded room at Aubrey.

"It's gone."

Total silence.

"What?"

*****

Arrafin shook herself and tried to recall the Calegrian she'd been frantically studying.

She babbled complete gibberish at the little girl. The round red face pursed in a frown. Everyone stood very very still.

The little girl babbled back. Elena grunted and tightened her grip on her longsword.

Arrafin thought furiously.

"Do you have power?" was the little girl's question. She thought. She hoped. Okay. She strung together what few words she knew and hoped the grammar didn't change the sense too much.

"I might have power. Why do you want to know?"

The little girl considered. She took a step towards Arrafin. The Naridic girl stood firm, but all the others drew back. Boyce noticed a couple of gold coins on a sidetable and shovelled them into his purse as he retreated.

"Weak one. Give me power. I don't eat you."

Philip spoke up.

"Arrafin? What is she saying?"

"Hang on a sec."

Arrafin took a deep breath. She closed her eyes and thought of her father, the lecture halls and the dry winds of summer in Al-Tizim. Her big dark eyes snapped open and she drew herself up, took and step forward and pointed down at the little girl. She ho
ped her Calegrian was up to the task.

"My power is greater than yours, spawn of Ky'in! Back now, before I decide to show it to you."

She held the little girl's gaze, trying not to shake.

Everyone's eyes widened as the Kishak girl scowled and she and Arrafin stared at each other. It took a second before Philip realised Arrafin was hissing at him over her shoulder.

"That water stuff! Toss me your waterskin!"

Arrafin, of course, didn't carry water. She could barely manage all her notes and reference books. Philip searched hurriedly through his possessions and tossed the full waterskin forward.

The little girl hissed and drew back. She snarled at Arrafin.

"Soon you will show me your power. Soon."

She ran from the room.

Boyce spoke for everyone.

"Okay, that was the weirdest thing I've ever seen. Arrafin?"

Arrafin turned, her eyes wider than they'd ever been. She swallowed.

"Yeah, that was pretty weird. Let's get out of here."

*****

"You know, after all we've been through, I don't think asking for a little sunshine is too much."

Aubrey tromped through the mud and the unflagging downpour, passing dozens of terrified residents of the town. The story of the monster's attack on the apprentices' dormitory had spread, and nobody needed much convincing to follow the suggestion that getting out now, while this Dark Water stuff worked, was a good idea. A refugee train of three hundred people filed away from the squat tiled roofs of Chimney.

The road ran down from the townsite and turned sharply to the left, running along the side of a deep canyon that cut further up into the mountains. On the left the cliff climbed sharply up overhead, while on the right rain plunged into a grey abyss. Aubrey made his way past exhausted parents and their children, dragging their belongings behind them on hand carts or just a couple of lashed poles. Yshakans, Gap and Saijadani alike trudged together through the rain.

At the front of the column Aubrey found Philip, Elena, Nevid and several of the miners contemplating five small barrels under a tarpaulin. He raised an eyebrow.

"Powder."

Philip's explanation took a few seconds to register. Aubrey smiled, a smile of actual pleasure, the first such smile he'd had since coming to Chimney. He turned to watch the refugees filing past. The path here was narrow, only a ledge on the cliff face. There was nothing but sheer rock above and below.

"Seal them in?"

Philip nodded. Elena scowled.

"We don't know if it'll actually stop them, but it couldn't hurt."

*****

"Can you ask your grandfather a question?"

Arrafin yelped as her foot twisted over a rock hidden beneath the mud, but kept her eyes up on Mallinalli. The handsome Yshakan nodded. With a quick grab at her shoulder bag before it slipped off, Arrafin carried on.

"How do we... kill chipactli? I mean, are there any special tricks in your stories? Silver, or anything? Like the Dark Water, only to kill them with?"

Mallinalli shook his head. His Imperial Kishak was broken but clear.

"We cannot kill the chipactli. Only the Queen can do that."

"The Queen?"

"The Queen of Serpents."

"Who's she?"

"The Goddess. The creator of all Barsoom."

"Hm."


----------



## barsoomcore

Sometimes, you ask AND you receive.

Game note: Arrafin's player rolled a natural 20 on her Bluff check. The DM (me) rolled a natural 1 on Mara's Sense Motive.

Next episode: How a perfect Bluff can sometimes get you into worse trouble than a failed Bluff.


----------



## Altin

Dude, that was cool, and by cool I mean totally sweet ... 

In all seriousness, nice to see Arrafin getting a chance to shine. And the thing with Nevid and Big White And Hungry was just precious. 

Also, 



> "We cannot kill the chipactli. Only the Queen can do that."
> 
> "The Queen?"
> 
> "The Queen of Serpents."
> 
> "Who's she?"
> 
> "The Goddess. The creator of all Barsoom."
> 
> "Hm."




You are a bad, bad man ... 

Yours,
Altin


----------



## LostSoul

Very cool.  I can't see through the story to the D&D mechanics.  As it should be.


----------



## xrpsuzi

I think the best line (as far as the most human) is 



> "You know, after all we've been through, I don't think asking for a little sunshine is too much."




you're an adventurer, and you're not dead, but you can always have reasons to complain. 

suzi


----------



## barsoomcore

suzi yee said:
			
		

> *you're an adventurer, and you're not dead, but you can always have reasons to complain. *



I would never accuse my PCs of not having reason to complain. It's kind of my mission in life, actually, giving them reason to complain.

Good reasons, too.

Edit: too much punctuation


----------



## Jodo Kast

This storyhour is most choice, keep up the good work barsoomcore.


----------



## barsoomcore

Altin said:
			
		

> *Dude, that was cool, and by cool I mean totally sweet ... *



And it's about mammals


----------



## barsoomcore

*You'll Never Want To Leave*

The explosion was anti-climactic.

Aubrey, Elena and Nevid watched as a small cloud of debris flew into the air, barely visible through the constant downpour. A flat cracking sound cut through the rain a second later.

"Well, I guess that does it."

None of them spoke. The idea that a gap in the roadway would seriously impede the two creatures hopefully still lurking up in the now-desolated town of Chimney was a faint hope at best. But given the ten-day walk to the nearest habitation, the ragged condition of the refugees and the dubious protection offered by a bunch of water bottles filled deep underground, faint hope was better than none at all.

Eventually Philip and couple of Chimney mining engineers emerged through the wet brush. The burly Saijadani shrugged.

"If that'll stop them, I guess it'll stop them."

Elena rolled her eyes.

"You used to be a merchant? How did you sell things? 'If you need it, I guess you need it.'"

Philip grumbled an angry retort, and, squabbling like usual, the four Saijadani made their way downhill to where the rest of the refugee train continued on its way.

*****

Reading while walking was a skill Arrafin had mastered as a child, when she figured out that if she read on the way to Karidish lessons, she could get through two more books each week. That, however, was on the dry, straight and level streets of Al-Tizim. On the wet, slippery, uneven and covered with boulders forest floor of northern Lasseux, she wasn't quite as practiced.

Yet another exposed root and she stumbled, nearly falling flat on her face but a strong hand nearby steadied her. She tucked the book ("Grammatic Inconsistencies on Tilescripts, 405 - 791, (Property of the Emir's Library -- NOT TO BE REMOVED)") under her raincloak and peered up around the rim of her hood. Boyce smiled down at her.

"Careful, kiddo. Wouldn't want to drop your book, now would you?"

Arrafin grinned, a little hysterical with exhaustion and fear.

"You know, if I could just spend some more time talking with her, I bet I could put together a complete grammar of Calegrian. Imagine! Think what this could mean for archaeology -- all those friezes at the University could be translated!"

Visions of academic glory sent Arrafin's eyes into a far-off stare. Another tree root brought her back to her situation.

"Right."

Boyce was unimpressed, but too charming not to provide some encouragement.

"That'd be great."

*****

Ilonka, Vlad, Trazik and Karel tromped along behind the vanguard of Yshakans, blazing a path for the rest of the townspeople to follow. Behind them, the sheer wall of the Northern Mountains rose in an indistinct grey blur, fading into the dark clouds overhead. The muddy ground shifted under their feet with each step, and by noon Ilonka was sure she was dying.

"You're not dying. You've just never had to walk further than the nearest bar stool, that's all."

"Very funny. I could be dying."

"You're not dying."

"But I could be. Wouldn't you feel awful if I just dropped dead?"

"Depends. Could I have your share of the loot?"

"Loot? There's loot? Who said anything about loot?"

Trazik smiled.

"There's gotta be loot. Big adventure like this, there's always loot. Honestly. Have you never read a book in your life?"

Ilonka reached out to smack her chuckling friend, but didn't have the energy to reach him.

"Nice. First my physical condition, now my intellectual accomplishments? What's next?"

Vlad came up the hill behind her, leering.

"Don't ask."

The crack of the explosion reached them just then, and as a group they stopped and turned, peering back up the canyon they'd just emerged from. Nothing could be seen.

"Big adventure."

"I'm dying."

"You're not dying."

"I'm going to smack you."

"I thought you were dying."

"I am. I just want to die with a smile on my face. Come here."

*****

"Doesn't it EVER stop raining here?"

Aubrey shook his head, sending droplets out horizontally off the brim of his hat. Unhappily he watched Philip and Elena swear at each other as they tried to get a fire going. Nevid was nowhere to be seen and Arrafin sat hunkered under a cloak that fit her like tarpaulin, squinting in the darkness as she kept reading.

Boyce got into the fire-making act, and the level of profanity rose sharply. Aubrey stood up and walked off.

What passed for forest here in the foothills of the Northern Mountains would not be considered even thicket material elsewhere. Straggly pine trees rose up in twisted gnarls, their roots sprawling across bare rock and digging into mud-filled crevices. Threadbare juniper bushes clung to steep outcroppings and small flowers, pounded flat by the rain, drowned in the muck.

Aubrey clambered up and over a stony hillock and descended to a sloping field where most of the refugee train were encamped. People sat huddled around what possessions they had, taking shelter under blankets and oilcloths. No fires were burning. Darkness shadowed the outskirts of the camp, where the trees grew a little thicker and the rocks rose steeper.

As he passed, people looked up. The exhaustion and terror in their eyes did not frighten him. He felt just the same way. It was the hope. The hope that somehow, he and his friends would get these poor people out of this.

Memories of horror in the Wadi Shir, another group of frightened people trusting them. He shut his eyes to the screams.

"Aubrey?"

Somehow he'd wandered halfway across the camp. He looked down to see the pretty girl from the coffee-house, Ilonka, smiling up at him. Her friends sat in a rough semi-circle around her. Aubrey squatted down.

"You folks holding up okay? Long way from the big city, isn't it?"

They all groaned, but good-naturedly. The thin fellow muttered under his breath.

"I am never leaving Pavairelle again. Hell, I'm spending the rest of my life on Duelists' Street."

Inspiration struck Aubrey.

"Say, any of you know the Keel and Rudder? It's on Duelists' Street."

Ilonka's dark eyes lit up.

"Across from Staznoyan's? Sure, my folks run the shop next door."

Aubrey grinned and settled down on a wet, slick log. A story to tell and a pretty girl to listen took away most of his troubles.

"I fought a Kishak, what do they call them, like a lieutenant. Anjeddak, or something like that. Whatever. Anyway, I'm sitting at one of the downstairs tables with a couple of friends, we're having a pretty good night..."

*****

Chipucuaro knew his time was coming. He kept walking, long ago inured to such hardships. Memories crowded around him along with his extended family. The great market towns of the highlands, now abandoned to the cold, nothing able to grow or breath up there anymore. He remembered sunshine and endless vistas of dry, grassy hills, herds of hadrosaurs or trikes lumbering up and over the ridges.

He had been young once, and fought, and never thought of growing old. Now here he was, old and wet and cold, in a strange land surrounded by barbarians who knew nothing of the way of things. Dependent on savages.

No bitterness for him, though. The old man smiled to himself. The Queen of Serpents was not capricious or careless with the destinies of the People. If he was meant to die here it would be at her will, and all his life Chipucuaro had accepted the will of the Goddess.

He grinned impishly at the thought that perhaps her will could include some dry weather.

*****

The little red-skinned girl stared down into the canyon. The road ended. She knew the weak ones had fled down this road, she could smell their passage. But a strange odour filled the ground here. She didn't like it. Harsh and metallic. The road was gone.

She regarded the cliffside but knew with her little arms and legs she could never climb across. And her huge, white-furred companion, standing just behind her, would have even less chance.

The canyon continued on, south, out of the mountains. If she was to find that girl who claimed to have power, she could follow the river. The canyon.

Decision made, the little girl stepped off the cliff and plunged into the canyon. After a second the giant white monster did the same.

*****

"At least we won't die of thirst. I hear that sucks."

Trazik's relentless cheerfulness had gone beyond grating, past annoying and much Ilonka's chagrin, was actually proving kind of inspirational. She was inspired to survive just so she could recover enough strength to beat him to death with a big fish or something.

She was exhausted. They all were. Three days of stumbling up and down rocky hills, stumbling over tree roots and twisting ankles in cracks, all the while slowly descending into the deeper forests of Lasseux.

They'd seen no beasts, heard no birds. Nothing but rain upon rain upon rain. They slipped and fell trying to walk in the smoother, low-lying vales, which were filling up with fast-moving streams. They slipped and fell trying to walk on the high ground, where the soil had been washed away and just slick bare rock was left for their feet.

Downhill. Keep walking downhill. The road runs east-to-west and the hills slope down to the south, so keep walking downhill and you'll hit the road. Lots of inns and villages along the road. Civilization. Food. Dry clothing. Shelter.

The refugee train spread out over nearly half a mile, everybody too tired and wet and hungry and cold to even think about maintaining any sort of order. Some people were missing, maybe wandered off on the wrong path, maybe forgotten one morning. Nobody knew.

*****

"Has anyone seen Nevid?"

Elena woke up with a start, blinking away raindrops splashing onto her face. She glowered at Philip.

"No, us sleeping people haven't seen anyone. We WERE sleeping, you oaf."

Philip had grown used to Elena's constant crankiness and grinned. He chomped at an unlit cigar and fiddled with his eyepatch.

"Time for waking up, dearie. We miss your sunny personality."

Elena provided Philip with explicit, if hard to visualize, instructions as she got to her feet and stretched away a fraction of the stiffness that had built up in her muscles over the night. Boyce, sharpening a hooked knife, ogled discreetly.

"Couple of Yshakan lads found the river, just off to the right there. At least we know we're heading the right way."

Elena had appointed herself carrier of the great big sword they'd found down in the mine and slung the massive weapon over her back. She swore as the cross-guard banged against the back of her head.

"Let's get everyone moving. Another glorious day."

"Has anyone seen Nevid?"

*****

Nevid explored. He'd waited at the canyon mouth, where the path emerged into the hills, for an extra day, to see if the little girl or the huge white thingie would emerge after everyone had left, but there was no sign of them and so he made extra time trying to catch up with the column. Hurrying through the stunted trees all alone, he noticed the lack of animal life more readily than the others.

At first he told himself it was the rain. What did a kid like him know about forest life, anyway? This was the closest he'd ever been to the wilderness. Growing up on a farm taught you lots about the outdoors, but mostly he knew just to stay out of it. Stick with what's fenced and civilized and controllable. Not these stupid-looking trees and irregular boulder-strewn hills. Why anyone would want to live in land like this he couldn't imagine.

Certainly not for the weather.

He hurried on.

A night spent alone, shivering under a sparse branch. Another day, following the unmistakable trail of the refugees. He covered ground much more quickly than they but still, even a day later, he found himself spending the night all alone in the dark forest. Too many shadows, too many faint noises that might have been a variation in the rain or might have been something else. He didn't sleep much and as soon as it was light enough to see he struggled up and carried on.

He almost missed it. Through the rain, at that distance, it could have been a pale boulder. On his right, far off, barely visible through the rain. At first he though it must be no more than a hundred feet away, but a couple of trees between came into focus and he realised it was more like a hundred yards. Which meant it was three times as big as he'd thought. Which meant...

Nevid froze. Without moving his feet he sank down to the ground. Carefully shuffled behind a pine tree, watching the white blob.

The huge white thingie. Just sitting right there. In the rain.

How could it have gotten past him? He'd waited up there for a day and it never came through. Now, down here in the foothills, here it was. Had it left before them?

A splash of red against the white. Moving. Nevid's heart sealed up, turned to lead. Without thinking he turned and ran. Fled through dripping tree branches and muddy tracks until he ran right into the trailing members of the refugee train, a few hours later. Just as dusk was falling.

*****

Cold water washed over her. Mara let herself be carried along in the wild current, ignoring the pain as her slight body smacked into stones, driven along by the weight of the water. The impact after her long fall into the canyon had broken both her legs and her neck, and she spun down through the torrent helplessly. Her skull cracked against solid rock again and again, and she considered the slow decimation of her body without concern.

At last she fetched up on a rock and with her one working hand (the other arm, she noted, had been torn off after wedging into a crevice underwater) she clung there. Her legs wouldn't work so she pulled herself to the bank with her hand and lay there.

She would heal. It would take some time and she would be hungry after, but she knew she would heal. Nothing in the world could kill her.

Her companion was too massive for the water to move, and with his greater weight he'd been much more severely damaged. She waited.

*****

"What's that? What's happening?"

"Somebody's screaming. That's bad."

Aubrey and Philip peered into the darkness, trying to orient on the sudden eruption of screams coming from the other end of the column. The rear.

"Do we still have our Dark Water?"

"I sure have mine. But who knows if it's still... fresh."

Another thunderous impact and more screams. Children screaming, this time. Aubrey and Philip eyed each other. Elena sprang to her feet and immediately started cranking her crossbow. The two men charged into the darkness.

*****

"Boulders. The damned thing is throwing boulders at us."

The scene, in the darkness, was mercifully hidden from view. Two young Yshakan women had been struck by a massive boulder and plowed into the earth, their bodies flattened by the impact. Another boulder had crushed an old man. People streamed past Aubrey and Philip, screaming all the way. Nevid suddenly appeared.

"Hey, there you are."

"They're out there. They're just out there."

"Yeah, we know. Try to keep everyone together, I guess."

Philip started bellowing and waving his arms and directing people to travel along the riverbank, where the ground was easier.

Another dull thud from nearby and more shrieks. Nevid ran off to see.

"This is bad."

Aubrey nodded.

"I'm starting to wish we hadn't made it out of the Wadi Shir."

*****

Nevid found a girl no more than ten, bleeding to death from a horrifying impact wound to both her legs. He tried to help but she wouldn't stop screaming for her mother. Screaming and screaming and screaming.

Nevid heard another thump, and another, and now the beast behind them roared out and panic stabbed deep within him and he left the screaming screaming screaming girl behind.

*****

Elena grabbed Arrafin's arm and starting dragging the slim girl along with her.

"You stay right here, Arrafin. We're not getting separated."

The column rushed past them in a disorganized mob, frenzied faces appearing out of the gloom and racing by. Elena heard the impacts and starting moving them along with the others, keeping an eye out behind (and a loaded crossbow) for any little red-skinned girls who might show up.

Instead she ran headlong into a burly Gap rogue.

"Boyce!"

He, Michel and Nervaine had drawn their pistols. They surrounded Elena and Arrafin and kept moving with them, everyone watching behind. The darkness pressed in on all sides, though Boyce swore daybreak was not far off.

A round of cursing and stomping announced the arrival of Philip and Aubrey, both wild-eyed and on the edge of panic.

"It's not far back. Hasn't thrown any rocks for a while, at least."

Aubrey caught his breath.

"I think it's stopping to... to... eat the ones it got."

"I think we're going to keep running."

*****

Morning found exhausted refugees stumbling along blindly, falling over each other. The entire column was strung out along an unknown distance of riverbank, some collapsed, sleeping where they fell, others still trying to move along, stumbling and weeping.

Ilonka and her friends had been at the front of the column when the panic started and never got a clear picture of what had happened. It seemed like nobody did, but whatever had happened had scared everybody plenty.

She watched as the del Maraviez folks came along the line, encouraging people to get up, stick together, keep moving. The frowning woman, Elena, stopped to comfort three kids who'd been separated from their parents. Aubrey grinned and traded jokes with Boyce like they were on a stage in front of a crowd. The one with the eyepatch, Philip, got the able-bodied among them up and helping the others. He got Vlad and Karel and Trazik up and handed them each a few articles of baggage from some other refugees.

"Let's get moving, folks."

Vlad shifted his new bundle and took her hand. Grateful for the warm contact, Ilonka kissed him. What started as a quick thank you took on all their pent-up fear and it was only once Trazik's complaints got too loud to ignore that they separated.

Ilonka couldn't stop staring at Vlad. She'd had the terrible thought that she might never kiss him again.

*****

The hills gave way to meadow later that morning, a broad expanse of feeble grasses and flowers, the ground soft from the rain. A few streams criss-crossed the landscape, digging gullies as they carried the soil away. At last they could see the land stretching out before them, slowly dropping away in one row of low hills after another, rain cascading across them in undulating sheets. Far, far off -- the dark expanse of the Lasseux forest. Somewhere between that and where they stood lay the Highpass-Burnoll Road, civilization, dry beds and food.

Nevid knew food was becoming a problem. Boyce and his guys could hunt, but they couldn't provide for the several hundred people in the column. Already supplies were practically non-existent, and they still had the better part of a week before they could expect to reach the road. And Boyce couldn't hunt if that thing was still running around out there.

He studied the column as they emerged onto the meadow. They'd lost more people than he thought. Nearly a hundred people were missing. He hurried through the crowd to find the others. The screaming screaming girl barely bothered him at all, anymore.

*****

Crossing the meadow was almost pleasant, compared to their experience coming down through the hills. The squishy ground made walking a bit of a chore, but the rain didn't seem so fierce here and at least there were no tree roots to trip over. The refugees bunched more closely together now that they could see each other, and by mid-afternoon the group was talking and even laughing a little more normally.

Nobody spoke about the missing third of their company. Nobody expressed their growing hunger.

Arrafin kept studying, sure she was on the point of grasping something. The manner in which the girl had strung together sentences nagged at her, but she couldn't pin down what it was. For the thousandth time she wished she was back at the University Library in Al-Tizim. She'd exhausted her limited resources and had been reduced to studying her own notes, trying to make out scribbled comments while keeping the sheets out of the rain.

She stopped so suddenly that Philip walked right into her, sending her sprawling in the mud. The Saijadani yelped with surprise and dashed to help her up. Fortunately Arrafin's skinniness was so extreme he only needed one hand to lift her bodily and set her back on her feet.

Arrafin spluttered. She was mud-covered, her face a dark grey mask with two huge brown eyes blinking. Bits of mud flew from her lips as she tried to explain.

"Karidish grammar! It's not Kishak at all! The words are, but the grammar, it's Karidish! I can figure this out! I can speak this language! This is incredible! I can't wait to get back and publish something about this. This could be a whole thesis! This changes everything, it means there definitely WAS pre-Empire contact across the Shastra Mountains. This might change the whole notion of Imperial rise!"

Philip wiped the larger masses of guck off her front and smiled wanly.

"Uh-huh."

He shook his head as the tall, slender girl walked away, still talking to herself. Nice girl, clever enough, but a bit of a liability.

*****

Mallinalli the Incredibly Handsome had returned to talk to them. Elena appointed herself spokeswoman.

"There can be no fight. No fight against the chipactli."

"What? We should just let them kill us?"

His perfectly-chiseled jaw swung from side to side.

"No. We run. Do not stand to fight. The Dark Water is no longer useful. Understand?"

"Is this why you guys are always up at the front?"

"Yes. We run."

"Got it. Run."

"Yes. Run."

"Would you carry me?"

"What?"

"Never mind."

*****

Reading and walking was one thing. Writing and walking was much more difficult, but Arrafin managed. She scribbled down her thoughts on a blank section of one of her notes as she walked, carefully putting one foot in front of the other, balancing an ink bottle on the back of her left hand which also clutched the notepaper while her right elbow held it in place and her right hand moved the pen. It was doable. She was starting to cramp up, though, and lifted her head to look around for some more suitable method.

Right next to her, matching her pace for pace, walked the little red Kishak girl. Her face turned and empty eyes burned at her.

"Will you show me your power now?"


----------



## xrpsuzi

*Yeah!*

Creepy kid getting creepier.... I can't wait to see what she's going to do next.

As for Arrafin, not natural 20 on a bluff is not always a good thing, eh? 

Thanks for writing, it's made my night!

suzi


----------



## barsoomcore

*Re: Yeah!*



			
				suzi yee said:
			
		

> *Thanks for writing, it's made my night!*



I'm glad you're enjoying it. There's nothing more gratifying than appreciative comments.

We are fast approaching the close of the Chimney adventure. Next up, dancing girls, trade agreements and the dark secret of Philip's past...


----------



## Avarice

*Re: Re: Yeah!*



			
				barsoomcore said:
			
		

> *I'm glad you're enjoying it. There's nothing more gratifying than appreciative comments.
> 
> We are fast approaching the close of the Chimney adventure. Next up, dancing girls, trade agreements and the dark secret of Philip's past... *




She's not the only one, Barsoomcore.  You've really got quite a knack for writing compelling, believable NPCs.  I am completely convinced that they are all about to die grizzly, horrible deaths, and yet I can't help growing attached to them, damnit!  Well done.


----------



## barsoomcore

*Re: Re: Re: Yeah!*



			
				Avarice said:
			
		

> *I am completely convinced that they are all about to die grizzly, horrible deaths, and yet I can't help growing attached to them, damnit!*



I myself have always been attached to grisly, horrible death. I know how you feel.

(aw shucks)


----------



## Avarice

barsoomcore said:
			
		

> *I myself have always been attached to grisly, horrible death. I know how you feel.
> 
> (aw shucks) *




A fact which becomes more and more evident with each passing update.   Speaking of which, got any new installments in the works?


----------



## barsoomcore

Avarice said:
			
		

> *Speaking of which, got any new installments in the works? *



Coming up, coming up...

(bump, sir? me, sir? no, sir!)


----------



## xrpsuzi

barsoomcore said:
			
		

> *Coming up, coming up...
> 
> (bump, sir? me, sir? no, sir!) *




No one even mentioned the word bump.... I swear.

As for the next story--dancing girls, eh? It would be hard to beat creepy unkillable little girls who like to feast on flesh.... But hey, I'll give it a shot 

-suzi


----------



## dave_o

If you ever, EVER run an online game, you will consult me immediately.

And you know I've been badgering you about this forever. 

Other than that, DAMN FINE STORY HOUR!

*salivates*


----------



## barsoomcore

*Memories to treasure forever*

Ilonka stared in horror at the diminutive figure before her. Her attempt at speech turned into a confused gabble as Vlad grabbed her and shoved back away from the child. The others rose up from where they'd been resting, eyes wide.

She was giggling. This was trouble, and they all knew it.

The little girl raised a stick over her head and shouted, "Fight!"

Atranztipac charged Vlad, whirling the stick and still giggling. Trazik jumped in to try and grab her from the side and took the stick in the side of his head, roaring out in anger. She turned to deliver another rousing blow to him, but Vlad yanked the stick from her hands and held it up too high for her to reach. She promptly kicked him in the shin and lunged at him with her teeth. Trazik got a hand on her ankle and she fell in the mud, giggles turning into shrieks of outrage.

Ilonka sat on her.

"Atranztipac! Stop it!"

"No!"

The little girl writhed and hollered, trying to dislodge the woman atop her. Thoroughly frustrated, Ilonka smacked the back of the girl's head.

"Just stop it! We're tired and we don't want to play."

"No! Fight!"

Ilonka growled and looked up at Vlad.

Who suddenly disappeared. Ilonka frowned. A hiss of raindrops blew across her face. Vlad was gone. She blinked and looked around.

At first she though somebody had dug a trench and wondered if they'd stumbled into someone's farm without knowing.  At the end of the trench she saw a big boulder, and lying nearby she recognized Vlad. With a cry, without any thought at all, she leapt up and stumbled across the mud to the body. Heard a thump, ignored it. People began screaming. Heavy footsteps as the entire mob began running.

Vlad lay face-up. His body seemed strangely deformed and his tunic leaked red all over. Ilonka fell to her knees and shook him, her voice distant and hollow in her ears. Another thump and she saw a spray of mud and water as another boulder slammed into the crowd, drilling a long path out of the meadow. Bodies cartwheeled through the rain. Somebody grabbed her and began dragging her away from Vlad, who wouldn't get up.

She knew she was screaming, flailing, struggling, but it all seemed so quiet as Vlad got smaller and smaller.

*****

Elena stretched up to look over the crowd, trying to find Arrafin. The absent-minded girl had wandered off while reading, and Elena was worried. Some day that girl was going to step wrong and twist her ankle or something and then they'd have to carry her back to civilization.

Not that Arrafin weighed enough to be a serious impediment, but it was the principle of the thing. Elena hated to see people not taking their situation seriously. Arrafin had to wake up and realise how serious things really were.

Elena told herself all this in a stern internal voice, but sighed and gave up. She just couldn't be stern with Arrafin, who'd become like her little sister in the past few weeks. She'd become like everybody's little sister. Everybody's absent-minded, charming, brilliant little sister who got more excited about conjugating ancient verbs than anything Elena might consider... conjugal.

She sighed again.

She missed the ranch. The cottonwood trees along the river, the guitar from the barrio coming up to the casa at night. The roar of the rexes in their paddock, disputing some patch of territory. Her brothers.

Elena smiled to herself at the memory of sibling battles, screaming and hollering and Mama threatening them all.

She looked up, confused, at new screams.

*****

For the thousandth time Aubrey promised himself that never again would he ever go anywhere without paved roads. Heck, getting him to go anywhere beyond the walls of Pavairelle was going to take quite an effort. Or even outside his apartment, from now on.

The great outdoors could stay right where it was, thank you very much. His boots were ruined, his cloak hung in tatters and he hadn't been dry in weeks. Nor had he had a decent meal, a comfortable bed, pleasant conversation or even a good drink.

And horrible monsters were trying to kill him. Aubrey looked up into the rain and pondered the whimsical nature of fate. And why it hated him so much.

He saw Arrafin flying backwards through the air and frowned.

*****

Philip worked on his cigar. He only had two more so he was trying to make this one last, but whenever he wasn't paying attention he found himself gnawing at it with great energy, and it was getting shorter much too quickly. Bits of tobacco in his mouth kept him awake, anyway, as he moved along the edge of the crowd, trying to keep an eye out for trouble.

For the most part, the citizens of Chimney were dealing pretty well with everything. They didn't complain much, just kept on moving. Sheer terror had a lot going for it as a motivating force, he considered.

Automatically he scanned the packed mass of frightened humanity for his friends. Elena, tall and broad-shouldered, helping a struggling mother over a muddy patch. Nevid, deep in conversation with two Yshakan men, their bright woolen ponchos stained grey and dark with muck. Aubrey, still with a cheerful grin on his face, winking at a little girl to make her smile. And Arrafin, head bowed under her hood, walking with careful steps, and next to her, a little girl...

Red face. Black hair.

Philip yelled and started running, drawing a pistol, already too late.

*****

The Yshakan language spoke volumes about the way these people saw the world. Things Nevid took for granted like past tense, subject/predicate and the distinction between statements of fact and opinion didn't seem to exist. It fascinated the young Saijadani and he kept drawing other phrases out of the Yshakans walking with him, finding translations for objects or phrases, trying the words out in his own mouth, looking for connections and clues to the grammar.

It kept him from crying with fear. Nevid, with nothing but time to think about what was following them, with no action to be taken in front of him, felt his mind filling up with nameless terrors and shuddering cowardice.

"Okay, tell me again. How do you... If I don't KNOW something, but I THINK something, how do I say? You understand? THINK, not KNOW..."

Screaming. At first Nevid wanted to drop to the ground and hide but he realised he was running straight towards the screams. Arrafin's screams.

*****

Boyce frowned at the sight of Elena. Strange. Such a big, farm-healthy girl. Carrying that great big sword over her shoulders. Scowling all the time like that.

But when she smiled, well...

Never mind. He had better things to think about. More serious things, anyway. He and his lads were laden down with more gold and jewels than they really ought to be carrying, but he was glad to be able to make SOME profit out of this trip.

Assuming they survived. Boyce had an optimistic nature, always had, and yet even he was having a hard time picking a scenario in which they got out of this. So far, it seemed, they were alive only because those monsters hadn't tried to eliminate them. If they should happen to try he couldn't realistically give himself and the others much of a chance.

He shrugged. Deal with it when it came. He manuvered for a better view of Elena, grinning again.

*****

Arrafin gaped, her legs still moving her forward. The little Kishak girl walked alongside her, close enough to touch, staring at her curiously. Arrafin tried to speak, failed, noted idly that since she was already soaked to the bone, she wouldn't be able to tell if she wet herself. She carefully put her book back into her bag. Didn't want to lose that.

"Show me your power."

"I, uh, um, oh."

"You lie. You are without power. You die. Now."

Her neck broke. That was Arrafin's initial diagnosis. Even before she felt the impact, before she crashed to the muddy ground, arms pinwheeling and legs stiff, she figured she'd broke her neck. She wished she'd written to her father before she left Fort Burnoll.

Rain plunged from straight above onto her face. Dazed, Arrafin smiled at the sensation. Distantly she realised she could hear screaming. Feet and legs trampled past her, splashing mud across her limbs. She shook her head and pushed herself up. Neck not broken.

The little Kishak girl stood only a few paces away, staring at her. Her dark eyes burned.

"You are food."

Child legs stepped toward Arrafin. A chubby child hand extended forward.

Arrafin clutched at her book bag. The realisation that she was really and truly about to die brought perfect clarity to her mind. She hoped it would be quick as she fell to her knees.

*****

Elena was running before she knew what was happening. The ground shook and off to her right it appeared through the rain, towering and pale and roaring like a thousand wild hungry beasts. She watched rocks detach from its hand, boulders an arm span across arc through the air towards the screaming crowd, pushing this way and that.

She broke free and ran along the edge of the mob, shouting at them to get moving, trying to organize the group. Panic erupted everywhere but enough heard her and saw her and slowly, so slowly, the crowd began to move as a unit, away from the giant.

While she was running she couldn't draw her sword so Elena stopped herself and took out her weapon, keenly aware of how useless it would be. For now the huge creature seemed content to stay at a distance, watching the tiny humans shriek and claw at each other. Elena shook and turned , gestured with her sword over her head like famous heroes in stories were supposed to do.

She didn't feel like a hero in a story. She felt helpless and frightened and doomed. She yelled to keep people moving in the right direction, started jogging over the meadow alongside terrified townsfolk who were sobbing and trying to stay upright. Over her shoulder she kept an eye on that immense creature. It just stood there watching them.

"Elena! Please help us!"

Turning, she caught sight of one of the coffee house guys, the tall skinny one, dragging the girl, Ilonka with him. Thankfully she sheathed her sword and ran over. He was babbling.

"Vlad's dead! One of those rocks, it, oh god..."

The girl seemed unconscious but unhurt. Elena slung her over one shoulder and kept going. She didn't listen to the sobs. There were going to be plenty more of those.

***** 

People ran in all directions, at first. Nevid clawed past terrified faces, surging towards where he heard the Naridic girl crying out. He burst into a clear area and barely had time to take in the two figures staring at each other before he bowled right into the little red-skinned one.

He thought she'd be cold, but she felt alive, not like the horrible undead monster he knew she was. For a second he was afraid he'd hurt her. Then she roared and smacked him.

Nevid flew up in a graceful arc and slammed into the mud with his shoulders. Arrafin watched, impressed. A sudden rush of townsfolk came through then and the screams got louder, nearer. She blinked as something smacked her across the mouth and looked down at a leg. A man's leg. It was hairy. The sudden stink of hot blood made her head spin. She saw Nevid struggling to his feet, more people screaming, horrible tearing sounds and that roaring sound the little girl made.

Arrafin started to cry.

*****

Philip just leaped right over Arrafin, both guns out now. He extended his arms and planted the barrels of both pistols right in the little girl's face.

Her head blew apart in fragments of bone and blood and flesh and her body flew backwards, arms pinwheeling. People going in all directions, crashing into each other and knocking each other down. Philip dropped his pistols and drew the big old-fashioned sword that was all he had left of his father's estate.

Sure, he'd just blown her head right off. He had no illusions about how badly he might have hurt her.

Aubrey arrived at the same time and weapons out, they advanced on the girl's body.

"Ew."

Her skull knit itself back together even as they watched. Philip wasted no time. With a panic-tinged yell, he wound up two-handed and delivered a terrific wood-cutting chop to the girl's torso. Aubrey's rapier was unsuited for such manuvers so he just stuck her where he figured her heart would be.

They were both yelling loudly, and surrounded by screaming people, so it took them a moment to realise that yet more noise was being added to the pandemonium.

The beast, the towering four-armed white-furred monstrosity, had roared. It was looking right at them.

Aubrey turned to Philip.

"Grab Nevid."

He sprinted to where Arrafin still sat in the mud, hauled the girl up and dragged her along behind him. Philip did the same with Nevid and the four of them took off.

*****

High ground. There wasn't much in the meadow, but Boyce, Nervaine and Michel found a low rise and dropped their gear. Yanked out the muskets and knelt, sighting on the big beastie plowing into the crowd.

Boyce had seen battle. He'd fought with the King against the rebels in Lasseux, and he'd seen men turning each other inside out, weeping with rage and screaming with terror. Or possibly the other way around. Watching this thing push its way into a frenzied mass of men, women and children, sending bodies flying in all directions, stuffing shrieking, struggling figures into its maw, filled him with a cold fury he'd never known before. Boyce squinted down the barrel of his musket through the rain.

"Go for the head."

A set of sharp cracks and they set down the weapons. Nervaine and Boyce grabbed the other pair of long-barreled guns while Michel set about reloading, and methodically the rogues began pumping lead shot into the monster's skull from a hundred feet away.

*****

After Elena took Ilonka, Trazik looked around dazed for a few seconds. He saw Iseut with Karel and ran to them, and the three of them kept moving.

"Don't look back. Just keep running."

Something roared. The ground shook with monstrous footsteps. Iseut looked back.

Trazik came to an immediate halt at her scream, holding himself steady against the onrushing crowd of terrified villagers. He pushed through the crowd to her, and only reluctantly looked up.

The massive clawed hand reached down and grabbed them both. Trazik felt his a sudden pain in his side, something scraping along his rib, and then his chest began to collapse in on itself as the beast squeezed.

He kissed Iseut. He thought of Ilonka.

*****

Chipucuaro let the younger men drag him along for a ways, but proudly he shook their hands off. The old man stood as tall as his stooped frame would allow and nodded.

"Go. The Queen of Serpents claims me now. Go."

He turned away, back to where the huge monster stood. It bit into something and gore spilled down its front. Chipucuaro raised his hands. Behind him he heard his people reluctantly leaving.

Between him and the beast now there were only a few people standing. Some were running straight for him. He recognized these. He smiled.

*****

Philip, still with Arrafin over his shoulder, came to a halt in front of the old Yshakan guy. Aubrey and Nevid (who'd gotten himself on his feet) did likewise.

"Hey, oldtimer. You coming with us?"

Philip remembered the old guy didn't speak Yshakan. Nevid tried.

"Why do you stay?"

Chipucuaro kept smiling. He nodded at the barbarians. Behind him he heard muffled explosions and red spots appeared on the monster's face. It staggered backwards, swatting at nothing.

Aubrey shrugged.

"I'm not staying here with him. Let's keep going."

The four (Arrafin muttering to herself, facedown over Philip's shoulder) headed past the old guy and on across the meadow, stumbling in the thick mud.

Chipucuaro saw the girl approaching. He knelt and asked the Queen of Serpents to grant him strength.

Her fist punching into his chest hurt more than he had thought it would. But he felt no pain as he watched her withdraw his heart and stuff it into her mouth. Only sadness that somebody had done this to a little girl.

*****

To Boyce's surprise, the bullet hits seemed to be having an effect on the creature. It stumbled backwards, roaring and bellowing, as one impact after another struck its face. He yelled in triumph and laughed as Elena and a couple of townsfolk ran up.

"Look at that! We're pissing him off real good!"

"Yeah, great. Good for you."

Elena's face was streaked with mud and tears and she dropped to the ground, panting, to catch her breath. She looked up as Nevid, Aubrey, Philip and Arrafin came up the hill. They stood for just a few seconds and then turned to see the girl, the little red-skinned girl, marching determinedly towards their position.

Struck by sudden inspiration, Elena drew the huge sword over her shoulder. With both hands she could barely hold it upright.

"Alright. I'm spanking that bitch."


----------



## barsoomcore

Sorry for huge break there, folks. Next episode up much sooner, I promise. And I think next episode will be the end of the tale of Chimney, otherwise known as _Dead In A Box_. On to:

_Bayonne Opera Blues_, which will supply the previously promised dancing girls. Along with wacky hijinks involving Elena's secret powers, Philip's mysterious past, Arrafin's potential for hottieness, Nevid's negotiational expertise and introducing a whole new cast member. It's all so exciting.

Well, excuse me. I have to get back to the next episode...


----------



## Avarice

Page 2?  Page 2?!  Oh, don't think so.  Up you go, little fella...

As always, great update Barsoomcore.  I'm very much looking forward to the bloody finale.


----------



## xrpsuzi

Barsoomcore-that was cruel....

But a great quote for posterity sake. I can see a coin minted for Elena, striding along with her sword with the immortal words "I'm spanking that bitch" engraved along the curve.

-suzi
*waiting for her fix....


----------



## barsoomcore

*It's Good To Be Home*

Rain drilled into the soggy plain. The clouds hung low and grey and still.

Elena stepped in front of her friends, brandishing a huge greatsword that towered far above her head. Her feet sought steady footing in the ankle-deep mud. Behind her, a steady fire of muskets and pistols kept a giant four-armed monstrosity at bay.

What looked like a six-year-old Kishak girl stomped towards her, dull hunger in her eyes. Elena tightened her grip and thought about a whole lot of dead people. She could see bodies strewn all over the meadow. At least a hundred people had died here, just in the last few seconds. Under the steady thunder of the rain she could hear voices calling out in agony, wounded, lying in muck and blood.

Something about this scene gave Elena inspiration. She watched the little girl plod steadily up the hill. Behind her Elena's friends gathered close, all silent as they watched this monster, this creature that had just devoured hundred before their eyes, approach.

Arrafin had recovered and clung to Aubrey, unable to keep her footing in the slick mud. The Pavairellean bravo kept an arm around her thin waist as his eyes flicked back and forth between the little girl and the huge monster off to the right, still staggering about in a blind rage, unable to approach their hilltop.

Nevid held the staff he'd retrieved from the caverns, its three feathers now soggy and draggling down. He saw Elena, her faith in the sword evident, and held the staff inexpertly in front of him, like a sailor pushing off from a wharf.

Philip helped Michel loading guns for Boyce and Nervaine, keeping one eye on the approaching girl and Elena standing before her, that ridiculously huge sword wavering in the rain.

Elena stood very still. There was no doubt in her mind that Mara would come to her. Their eyes met and the Saijadani woman shuddered at the emptiness there. She found herself trying to gauge distances and forced herself to stop. Instinct. Elena was no duelist. She'd had no more than a lesson or two with a sword. She wasn't Aubrey or Philip, she had no skill or talent for this. She had to go on instinct.

Instinct let her down. The little red-skinned child charged, moving in a blur, inside the arc of Elena's over-sized blade before it could fall. Elena felt teeth dig into her stomach and a small hand push her thigh up. Bone snapped and Elena screamed as she crashed to the ground, the horrid squealing of the vampire child as it swarmed up her body all around. Her arms flailed and she struggled desperately to keep the little girl at bay, both of them covered in mud.

The black sword spiralled up into the air and plunged down pointfirst to stab into the muck. Elena saw it hit and reached out for it, but the little girl on top of her sank her teeth into Elena's throat and the Saijadani woman felt hot blood spray across her reaching arm.

Aubrey saw the sword hit the ground and left Arrafin's side, sprinting forward to wrap both hands around the yard-long hilt. With a great heave he hauled the blade free and whirled it over his head. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Philip charging in to help, and with a quick memory of the cherry trees along Duelists' Street in his mind he chopped downwards with all his strength, hoping he wouldn't cut Elena in half at the same time.

He didn't.

Instead, Aubrey recoiled in shock as a snarling, blood-covered six-year-old lunged at his face. The sword flew from his hand as she grabbed his wrist and bit savagely. Aubrey yelled and staggered backward, flailing, trying desperately to rip her from his arm. Her strength was terrifying and Aubrey felt her powerful jaws close on his wrist. All he could think of was losing his hand and the horror of that bloody stump.

Philip turned to see Aubrey falling backwards, the little Kishak girl clamped to his arm. Arrafin had fallen to her knees and crawled towards Elena, rummaging frantically for something to stop the bleeding, crying so hard she could barely move. Nevid was nowhere to be seen. Elena kicked in the mud, cursing in pain, and smacked Arrafin when the Naridic girl came close. The hungry grunting of the little girl filled Philip with horror.

The sword lay in the mud nearby. Philip grabbed it up just as Aubrey managed to tear the little vampire thing loose from his wrist. With a guttural roar he hurled her up into the air. Philip flashed on games of stickball with the other caravan youths as he cranked that massive black blade around.

The girl's shriek as the blade caught her in mid-section was that of a frustrated child denied some trinket. A sickening gout of blood exploded as Philip cut her right in half. The momentum of the huge weapon made him stumble backwards, panting, eyes wide, looking everywhere for the wee monster.

She was gone. Philip let the tip of the sword drop to the ground and leaned on it.

"Hey, come back!" 

Boyce yelled curses after the retreating monster. He and his two companions put down their guns and surveyed the battlefield.

"What a mess."

Philip growled. He was too tired to find words. He watched dully as Arrafin bandaged a calmer Elena and as Aubrey got to his feet, clutching his wrist and staring about himself. The great big white monster seemed to have lost interest as soon as the little girl disappeared.

The rain kept drilling down. The clouds still hung, low and dark and grey. They were alone, surrounded by bodies.

*****

Gupta got the stories in pieces, in confused cries and broken Imperial Kishak.

There'd been a disaster of some kind in Chimney, that much was clear. If what these Yshakans were saying was true, they were the only survivors of the mountain village. Monsters and little Kishak girls and whatnot. Gupta made sure the shutters were locked tight, and he and his son, Arup, loaded their Saijadani muskets and sat up in the great hall where the refugees slept, wet and frightened and hungry. His daughter kept the stove going, brewing soup for the new arrivals. Children cried, worn out and many of them missing their parents.

The pounding on the door startled him and he almost discharged his weapon into the ceiling. He and Arup exchanged glances and made their way to the oaken door.

"Yes?"

"Master Gupta, do you remember us? Caravan guards from the del Maraviez, we went up to Chimney a couple of weeks ago."

He did remember them. Not the usual caravan guards, this group. Not with that skinny girl and timid young man with them.

Gupta opened the door. It was still pouring outside, and water glittered on the broad-rimmed hat of the Saijadani standing there at the head of the group. Behind him, the rest of the group, battered, exhausted, bleeding, frightened, frustrated, and hungry. They stumbled into the welcome heat and dryness of the inn, crashed down at a table and stared at each other.

Boyce took out a gem-encrusted necklace and tossed it at Elena.

"Compliments of the King of Bayonne."

Blank looks replaced blank looks as everyone turned to the grinning scoundrel. He and his companions stood up and Boyce saluted, still grinning.

"We're off to deliver the rest of these goodies to our liege."

Philip's mouth dropped open.

"What did you think, I was just a thief?"

"Well, you are."

"True. But a thief with a cause. If you lot are ever in Bayonne, look me up. It's been fun."

The three Gap rogues strode out into the rain. Everyone stared.

Then jumped as a stick came out of nowhere and clouted Ilonka hard across the back of her head.

"Bad! Bad! Bad!"

Philip fended Atranztipac off as Aubrey checked to see Ilonka was not badly hurt. The Pavairellean woman glared at the Yshakan child for two seconds, then burst into tears. Uncertain, Atranztipac dropped the stick. Her belligerent expression softened and then she too began crying.

Elena looked over at the two dozen Yshakans huddled around the fireplace. She thought of the hundreds of people who had once lived in Chimney. Now bodies scattered across muddy fields. A hot bowl of soup appeared in front of her as Gupta's daughters served them. Her friends ate mechanically, unable to meet each other's eyes.

"There is a letter for you, my friends."

Gupta laid a sealed envelope on the table. The wax bore the crest of Isabella del Maraviez. Their boss. The woman who had sent them to Chimney to investigate the drop in silver production. Now she had some other task for them.

Nobody opened it.


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## barsoomcore

That's the end of _Dead In A Box_, Part One of Barsoom Tales. Hope y'all enjoyed it -- leave a note if you did. Or if you didn't, but in that case, lie.

Next up is _Bayonne Opera Blues_. Wacky fun and more melodrama!


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## barsoomcore

*Interlude: Current Events, Winter 1657*

Amongst the massive sand dunes of the Eastern Naridic desert, the banths prowled. Titanic felines thirty feet high at the shoulder, their broad paws spread across the sand as they walked under the pink sky. On their backs perched wide platforms, each roofed in colourful silks and home to dozens of soldiers. No less than thirty of these colossal beasts travelled in a line, three abreast, keeping formation with unnatural precision. Behind them, thousands of soldiers marched, a massive army beyond anything the desert had seen before.

At the center of the platform atop the lead banth, protected by ring upon ring of fanatical bodyguards and swarming bureaucrats, sat the Khadisan. Sharina al-Sharina beni Howetait, grand-daughter of the legendary Sharina herself, liberator of the Narid and leader of the Banthriders. The Khadisan was blessed with foresight and the indomitable will to drive the hated Kishaks from their desert. Her army marched west, towards the great city of Al-Tizim, towards the final confrontation with the Tyrant's Shade and his mercenaries.

Eventually, even prophetic visions become old hat. The Khadisan swayed and her attendants, used to this by now, moved in practised synchronicity to steady her. Once her tremors had died away, Scribe sat ready, pen in hand, to record the holy words of his living saint.

"He's not very attractive."

Scribe frowned. He wrote it down, of course, but for a vision that seemed a little, well, pedestrian. Not full of the fire and fury he'd come to expect. He hurriedly bent to his task as she continued speaking.

"Dispatch two kithraks to the dar Than ruin. Harim and Aran. They should take an extra kithrak, for they will be meeting a man named Dominic. They are to take him to Mullaham dar Than and then to rejoin me here."

Scribe finished writing and passed the message through the curtain to one of the pages waiting just beyond. He  waited for the Khadisan's next decree.

*****

A ruined castle perched high on a rocky precipice overlooking the Shaer Channel housed nameless, shrieking things. Things that lived in corners no mortals could perceive, but whose aura had sent all mortals fleeing from this place years ago. Only in whispers was Castle Dannockshire spoken of by those few who still remembered it was there. Black stone and dust filled the echoing hallways where storm winds howled. Strange lights danced in hollow windows and some nights, endless giggling danced from one empty chamber to the next. The castle was dark, cold, half-ruined and filled with spirits of a most disturbing nature.

"This is lovely! Kani, stand by that pillar for a second. Oh, yes, I think that red will do perfectly."

All haunting-like activity ceased when she appeared. Oh, sure, she came with a dozen or so others, some mortal, some not so much, but all the current inhabitants of Castle Dannockshire paid no attention to them. SHE was all they could see.

Madame Yuek Man Chong, formerly Countess of An Mei, formerly the Demon Goddess, emerged from faint wisps of shadowy darkness along with her varied attendants. She was fully six feet tall, not including the immense baroque architecture of black hair, gold bands and jade pins that towered above her alabaster face. A face that stopped every heart that beheld it. She was gorgeous and she was terrifying.

Madame Yuek had taken her beauty for granted for the past two and a half centuries. The residents of Castle Dannockshire had never seen anything like this towering image of bone-white skin, thick robes of embroidered silk and unearthly power. Sorcery practically oozed from her. Her massive, high-collared robes swayed and danced in a non-existant breeze like some sort of undersea creature, all tendrils and fronds. She smiled and inhuman hearts broke all over the castle.

"Hurry up, dear, don't make such a face. Won't this be lovely? Perfect!"

The most powerful sorceress in the world clapped her hands in girlish delight as one of her entourage, a surly Lohanese woman, took up a pouty stance next to an unsteady pillar. Her pout faded as Madame Yuek rushed up to her and took her hands, giddy to the point of irrationality.

"This will be so nice! What a wonderful spot. Kani, dear, you're so clever. We'll have such fun here."

She gestured imperiously to the rest of her group and a young girl, not more than fifteen, came forward and knelt at Madame Yuek's side. The tall woman looked down curiously for a second, and terrible hunger came to life behind her dark dark eyes. She descending, growling.

Kani looked away as blood spattered on the pillar. The girl never moved.

*****

Shadows whirled in a frenzy behind the fortress door. Out of the sudden darkness stepped a tall, black-skinned man with a massive curved blade in his hands. He moved forward quickly, light and quiet for such a big man.

Five Hinsuan men sat around the guardroom at their ease, feet on the rickety table as they chatted. One managed to get to his feet after the door burst open but even he took no more than a step before his body, cut into three pieces, fell to the floor. He was the last to die.

Laughter of Stones, 34th of the Scar'ith Tushan, moved on. Death came wherever he went. An alarm was sounded and he faced more alert foes. It did them no good, though the occasional blow did no good to him, either. By the time he reached his goal, he'd left behind most of his left arm and had two knives still buried in his chest. None of the wounds appeared to incommode him very much, and he did not bleed.

"Scar'ith Tushan. I have been awaiting you."

"You will still die, Keyad'ar. We have taken the oath. We are three hundred. We will hunt you down, each one of you."

"Let us see."

*****

Isabella del Maraviez fretted. Outside her cabin she could hear the constant grinding of timbers driven together by the wind and waves as their little cutter made its way around the headlands of Alquesta.

She fretted over what might be happening while she was so out of touch. One message a day from Kalibar was not enough to keep her feeling in touch with her myriad schemes. Without her army of couriers and messengers and spies and reports coming in hourly, Isabella felt lost.

The ship reeled over a wave and she nearly vomited. Again.

Isabella hated travelling. She heaped all sorts of obscenties on the head of her uncle, Marques, who had insisted she come to Pavairelle to master this caravan herself. She was happy for the chance to meet her latest agents, young Nevid and Elena and Philip and Aubrey, and of course for the chance to meet this Arrafin person face-to-face, but as the ship continued on its unsteady way she wondered if it was really worth it.

*****

Countess del Istanzic looked up from the letter she was reading to count sails. Counting sails had been a pastime of hers since her childhood, when she sat in the parlour waiting for Mother and Father to finish meeting with some merchant or captain.

Seventeen.

The waters beyond the sheltered harbour of Pavairelle were choppy as storm clouds threatened an unseasonal blow. The white triangles out there, most making for the Jewel City's protective breaks, rocked back and forth as the waves rolled underneath their hulls.

The Countess dropped the letter on to the polished surface of her desk. She pondered the wisdom of getting caught up in mainland politics (Pavairelleans always referred to the rest of Barsoom as "The Mainland", even though Pavairelle had ceased to be an island more than two centuries ago) and decided that this time, the potential rewards outweighed the possible risk. The attack on the del Maraviez vessel had gone off without a hitch and the guns were now on their way to Pavairelle. Which, of course, they had been originally, only now they were in her vessel. Fernandez del Orofin would be pleased -- any chance to black the del Maraviez eye put a smile on Fernandez' face.

She opened a drawer in the side of her desk and took out a clean sheet of white paper. As she dipped her pen into the inkwell she stared out at the sea.

Seventeen.

The Countess knew she was risking her entire fortune, her reputation, even her life on this gamble. The del Maraviez family were not to be crossed, nor was King de Beliard of Bayonne to be trifled with, for all his foolishness. She suppressed a thrill of excitement and told herself this was just business. A smart business deal.

Somewhere out there a ship was making its way towards Pavairelle with a cargo of muskets that once belonged to the del Maraviez, now secured on board her vessel, now for her to sell to de Beliard's mutinous mercenaries. She grinned.

Eighteen.


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## Joshua Randall

Am I the only one wondering what the @$#%^! is going on?  But in a good way, 'cause I am intrigued to read more.

MORE! MORE! MORE!


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## barsoomcore

*Bayonne Opera Blues -- Part One -- A Book By Its Cover*

Elena concealed her amusement at the sight of Arrafin's wide eyes turning into massive circles of surprise as the girls descended on her, giggling.

The Naridic scholar made a few, mild protests, but was entirely too shocked by the sudden attention to do anything but make querulous comments about was this really necessary and would anybody really notice and wasn't it awfully hot in here all of sudden? The wagon rocked its way along the unpaved road, setting curtains swaying, but Nitara's girls, eager to turn the shy Arrafin into a glamourous dancer like themselves, had no problem applying fine lines of kohl, rouge and other substances to their new friend's face. Elena couldn't even see Arrafin anymore; the girl had entirely disappeared behind the silks and long black hair of the Hinsuan women now attending her.

The Saijadani woman looked around, wishing she was outside, helping Isaac with the big parasaurs hauling the wagons down the riverside road to Bayonne, home of the King Percival de Beliard. King of the Gap.

_My friends,_ Isabella's letter had read, _I have learned of a secret agreement now being brokered between de Beliard and the del Orofin Familia. The del Orofins have promised to support de Beliard's efforts to subjugate the rest of the Barons if he will grant them rights to collect any and all tariffs and tolls throughout the Gap. We must oppose this not only because of the economic implications, but because we believe a strong Gap is one governed by independent Barons, not a single despot. A civil war now will fatally weaken the Gap, and that will expose Burnoll and all of Saijadan to Kishak expansion, which we fear will fall our way soon.

What the del Orofins are doing is in direct contravention of the Customs Act, and if we can acquire evidence it could not only preserve the strength of the Gap, it would be a great blow against the del Orofins themselves.

Go to Bayonne, acquire the agreement, and find your way down the Bayonne River to the sea. Our agents will meet you there.

My thanks, as always.

Isabella del Maraviez_

Elena sighed. She didn't have any great loyalty to the del Maraviez. She'd never even met Isabella. Nevid and Isaac jumped to this woman's every request, sure enough, but infighting between Las Familias held no interest for her.

The idea of a Kishak invasion, however, gave her pause. She'd been born years after the Battle of Fort Burnoll, of course, but her parents had both fought Kishak armies, and their stories of the ferocity of the red-skinned devils of Kish had kept her awake many late nights as a child, either terrified that in the shadows lurked some agent of the insidious Nevakada, the Kishak secret service, or daydreaming that a Kishak army would come over the ridge and she would have to organize the defence of the villa, heroine of the day.

Arrafin squawked as evidently Bel or Jesara pinched a little too hard while curling eyelashes. Elena chuckled, but her laughter died off as the dancers stepped back to show off their handiwork.

"Arrafin?"

The transformation in the young girl was remarkable. She'd gone from unkempt, unpolished and frantic to coiffed, pristine and gleaming. Her usual grubby robes replaced with a fine silk gown and her hair drawn back, she fit right in with Nitara's troupe. Elena grinned, then scowled as the dancers turned to her, makeup at the ready.

"No, I don't need anything..."

Bel, the sauciest of the troupe, smirked.

"You don't want anyone recognizing you, now do you?"

This time, it was Arrafin who watched in bemusement as four slender Hinsuan girls transformed a scowling Elena from Saijadani ranch hand into beautiful Hinsuan dancer.

Isaac and Nevid looked at each as laughter exploded yet again from within the wagon they were driving. Up ahead they could see the lights of the border fort shining in the dusk shadows. Their parasaurs bellowed, calling out to the beasts already tethered outside the fort's hostel, and soon the twilight air reverberated with the drawn-out croaks and roars of the animals as they greeted one another.

The presence of other draft animals reassured Isaac. At least they wouldn't be the only travellers on the road, rumours of war notwithstanding. This would be the first test of their anonymity -- if the Bayonne soldiers were looking for them, here was where the journey would end.

Unless the disguises that Nitara had promised were as effective as Isaac was sure they wouldn't be. Until the wagon door opened and six beautiful Hinsuan girls stepped into the flagstone courtyard, stopping dead in his tracks the young ostler come to lead the parasaurs to the cavernous stables. Isaac, expecting to see such a gaggle appear at their day's journey's end, didn't look twice.

Something in the voices made him look back, however, and that's when Isaac's eyes fell out of his head and landed on the mucky flagstones at his feet.

At least, that's how it felt.

"Elena?" His voice was little more than a squeak. He stood rigid for just a second, then realised that Arrafin as well was among that group. Both of his companions suddenly radiant in flowing, if not especially modest, gowns, hair piled high and gleaming, faces perfectly polished and eyes unbearably bright beneath lines of kohl and dark lashes.

Isaac fled. The parasaurs needed looking after, and the wagons ought to be checked and...

Nevid stood by the other wagon. He helped the elderly Kalibar down from his seat, the thin Hinsuan man smiling his thanks. Nevid swallowed as Kalibar's companion, Nitara descended, offering her his hand. She smiled graciously, her dark eyes sparkling with amusement at the giggling of her troupe. The dance mistress stood taller than Nevid, dark-skinned and lovely enough to stand out even amongst the beauties that formed her dance company. She allowed the Saijadani youth to accompany her to the rest of the group and they entered the hostel together.

*****

Isaac had not before considered the advantages of attractive women when attempting to travel under assumed identities. The fort commander barely even remembered to ask their names before planting himself next to the newly-made-up Arrafin and paying her more compliments than she'd received in all her years at the University.

Arrafin, for her own part, although she certainly was aware of the make-up (her face felt all stiff and she kept wanting to rub at her lips), was entirely ignorant of the effect she was having and proceeded to ply the commander with all sorts of questions about the history of the fort, the Barony of Bayonne, the rise of King Percival and every other detail that caught her attention. Which, predictably enough, had the effect of only increasing her charm in the eyes of the dashing commander, who came to the conclusion that he was succeeding very well indeed with his exotic lovely.

Elena ignored the other garrison members, and one particularly insistent Bayonne merchant who claimed to possess the perfect fragrance for one of her complexion, and found herself next to the elderly Kalibar. He smiled paternally, his eyes studying her with an intent quite different than that of the merchant.

She noticed the fine tracery of what looked like tattoos all around his throat, descending down beneath his collar. The lines were impossibly thin and perfectly formed, as if somebody had draped his skin with black thread, woven together in a loose arabesque. Kalibar saw her studying him and smiled again. Elena blinked.

"How long have you known Nitara?"

"There are two paths. The path of the child and the path of the mother. I have walked the path of the child, but you, Elena, you walk the path of the mother."

Elena blinked again.

"Is one of us confused?"

Kalibar only smiled.

*****

To Elena's disappointment, Kalibar refused to become any more communicative. To her further disappointment, the evening remained civilized and quiet. She half-expected to find herself and her friends arrested in the morning, their disguises seen through and their mission a failure.

But nobody troubled them as they organized the wagons and set out down the road to Bayonne, where the King and the del Orofin family were cooking up plans that Elena didn't much care about.


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## barsoomcore

At long last. Sorry about the HUGE wait. Hopefully this tale will carry on in a timely fashion.


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## Avarice

Barsoomcore lives?!  Ah, it's good to have the old story hour back, though I may have to do some serious re-reading to get back up to speed.  Not that that's a bad thing, mind...


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## barsoomcore

Avarice said:
			
		

> Barsoomcore lives?!  Ah, it's good to have the old story hour back, though I may have to do some serious re-reading to get back up to speed.  Not that that's a bad thing, mind...



 The complete _Dead In A Box_ tale is available... um... wherever Morrus keeps the Story Hour uploads...


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## Mathew_Freeman

Barsoomcore! I made it! After all this time, I finally read your story hour.

And verily, it doth rock muchly. 

Keep up the good work, mate. I'm really enjoying this!


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## xrpsuzi

And the saga begins again.... True to your word-dancing girls!
To get the compete Dead in a Box, just go to the sticky post at the top of the story hour boards (the one called new method) and it has Barsoomcore listed as one of the favorites.

Incidentally, I know how the girls feel. When I was 16 my mom insisted that we go for mother/daughter glamour shots together..... I couldn't feel my real skin underneath the makeup and let's just say it was the only time I could have sported a Dallas Cheeleader uniform without my father's disapproval.

-suzi


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## barsoomcore

suzi yee said:
			
		

> And the saga begins again.... True to your word-dancing girls!
> To get the compete Dead in a Box, just go to the sticky post at the top of the story hour boards (the one called new method) and it has Barsoomcore listed as one of the favorites.
> 
> Incidentally, I know how the girls feel. When I was 16 my mom insisted that we go for mother/daughter glamour shots together..... I couldn't feel my real skin underneath the makeup and let's just say it was the only time I could have sported a Dallas Cheeleader uniform without my father's disapproval.
> 
> -suzi



 ...

...

*absolutely refuses to comment on fathers approving of daughters dressing as Dallas cheerleaders*

...


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## barsoomcore

*Bayonne Opera Blues -- Part Two -- Too Many Cooks*

The deep basso moaning of the parasaurs had become a constant in Philip's life. He looked to his right, upstream, at the unruffled surface of the Bayonne river rushing towards him. Autumn sunlight dappled off ripples and played at blinding him as the water swept under the bridge and out the other side, swinging in a wide curve around the wall of the city.

Bayonne. Home of Percival de Beliard, mercenary captain and former Marshal now calling himself King. And apparently in cahoots with the del Orofin Familia of Saijadan. The family Philip had sworn to destroy.

He slapped the reins and clucked to the big dinosaurs as the wagons ahead moved forward. Guards were checking every wagon, and traffic had backed up on the bridge. With a quick look around, Philip raised a hand a slipped the eyepatch off his face, revealing two perfectly normal brown eyes. He grimaced and hoped none of his companions would come out. Awkward questions he preferred to avoid.

There was probably a del Orofin in the city right now. Maybe even somebody important. Philip knew next to nothing about the organization of the Familia, only that they had orchestrated the destruction of everything he had ever loved. Just thinking about them, laden with power and wealth, pulling at their strings and crushing innocent people, made him angry enough to scowl.

His scowl deepened as he thought of his last run-in with the del Orofins. That sneaky, deceitful cow Collette de Maynard back in Fort Burnoll, who'd manipulated him into a duel and then arranged for his arrest. She'd made fools of them all. He scowled still more blackly.

A young fruit seller going past caught the edge of Philip's scowl and decided not to approach the burly Saijadani. He hurried to the wagons behind, calling up to the drovers and displaying skewer of melon slices.

*****

Elena could make out the voice of a fruit seller calling from outside the wagon. Her throat tightened, dry and tired from the stuffiness inside the portable stage/dressing room they all sat in, crammed together, the dancers still giggling over Arrafin and Elena's transformations.

One of the girls had attached herself to Arrafin's side and plied the university student with questions about life at school and classes and books. Questions that came right back to her, as Arrafin seemed as fascinated with the rootless life of an itinerant performer as said performer seemed about the sheltered life of a university student.

"I can read."

The dancer's name was Bel. She raised her delicate chin slightly as she announced her skill, obviously proud but also intimidated by the great intellect sitting next to her.

The great intellect widened her eyes and shook her fluffy halo of unruly curls.

"Wow. I mean, that's great. I guess... Great. You can read. Me too."

Arrafin smiled.

Elena stifled a chuckle, then sighed as she shifted position yet again, bumping against Hinsuan legs to all sides of her. Costumes hung amongst them, swaying with every motion of the wagon. Outside, parasaur bellows sounded like slow-motion waves crashing against some distant shore.

"You walk the path of the mother."

Since last night, Elena had pondered these words of Kalibar's. She hadn't had a chance to talk to the old fellow yet, and curiousity consumed her. She thought back to her home, to that bizarre, horrible day when everything changed.

_The road was just as she remembered. Elena strode easily along the elderly cobblestones, following the curve around the trike paddock. The big horned creatures called out to one another, croaking rumbling cries that echoed each other with oddly comforting repetition. She grinned, repressing both excitement and concern. Surely Daniel would know that she would return in time? He would understand that she'd just needed some time to herself, to think about things apart from their families.

He'd be waiting for her.

She grinned again. He'd better be.

Daniel's family had situated the villa near the same creek that wound through the de los Santos farm. Willows overhung the banks, trailing green fingers in the murky, slow-moving water. The villa, Elena could see as she came down the birch-lined road, had been festooned with banners. With a frown, Elena counted sigils of at least four of Las Familias, indicating their official blessing on today's event.

Elena quickened her pace. Normally such displays were reserved for important occasions, like funerals or weddings. But there wouldn't be a wedding here. Not today.

She was running as she came around the courtyard gate but stopped dead at the sight there.

Daniel looked tremendously handsome. The formal suit, black and red and silver, fit him perfectly and with his hair coiffed like that he was a far cry from the grubby boy Elena had known all her life. She smiled in spite of herself at the sight. Her wedding day.

It was what stood next to him that froze Elena's smile in place, that sent her reeling back from the scene before anyone noticed her.

It WAS her wedding day. There she was. Standing up next to Daniel.

Elena shook her head violently, trying to tell herself this was a dream.

It wasn't. Elena stared at the other woman. Herself. Certainly her. The faint scar across her left cheek. The stance, the hair. Even painted and done up and wearing the dress her mother had made, it was her. Standing there.

Elena's heaving cries did not disturb the willows at all as she ran. The dinosaurs in the paddock never stopped their braying as she passed, back out along the old road, into confusion and darkness.

She could never go home again. They'd replaced her._

Elena returned to her present situation as the wagon started forward with a jolt, startling her out her near-drowse. She scowled and rubbed moodily at the rouge on her lips, causing one of the girls to squawk in alarm and descend on her, brush at the ready.

*****

Nevid clutched at the reins and tried to look like he knew what he was doing as the big dinosaurs began plodding forward. Philip had assured him that the second wagon's beasts would just follow the first wagon's, and to his great relief, that seemed to be true. He held the reins limply, trying not to stare around him too much.

The Gap was vastly different from Saijadan. Nevid felt a very long way from home. The great cities of Saijadan -- Cadencia, Mataleo, Burnoll -- were home to well-dressed, swaggering bravos with keen wits and keener rapiers. Countless factions schemed and brewed plots in the baroque architecture or among sunny gardens. Bayonne seemed like a muddy border town by comparision, where the warriors carried massive battle blades and wore half-finished furs over great swathes of plate metal. It seemed like he had gone backward in time to some savage epoch of ancient tales.

The bridge was packed with wagons, dinosaurs, soldiers, merchants, beggars, a furious whirlwind of sound roiling all about the young man. He looked forward at the gate, a purely functional structure of rough granite, towering above all the traffic like some patient monster lying still as food poured willingly down its throat.

Nevid shook his head. This was still Family business, and Family business was what he was trained to handle. Somewhere in this city some scheming del Orofin minions were trying to pull off an international tax scam at the expense of the people of the Gap and Saijadan, and at the risk of destabilizing this whole area, making it vulnerable to Kishak armies. Contracts, negotiations and legal obfuscation. Nevid grinned.

This was his idea of adventure.


----------



## Desdichado

Just got all caught up (again.)  Great stuff, as always!


----------



## barsoomcore

*Bayonne Opera Blues -- Part Three -- Life, Lemons, Lemonade*

The guard looked up at the brawny fellow sitting on the wagon board, floppy hat shading his features from the weak autumn sun.

"Where you from?"

Philip shifted in his seat and tried to look casual.

"Down from Highpass. Dancers, they're performing at the River Inn."

"You been in Bayonne before?"

"Sure."

"Stick the foreigners' section, Saijadani. Don't cause us any trouble. Move along."

Philip yanked at the reins and swore under his breath as the parasaurs heaved forward, hauling the big covered wagons in their wake.

Elena stuck her head up from within the wagon. Philip quickly tugged the eyepatch down over his right eye, turned to look, registered the heavily-made-up face of his friend, and tried not to grin.

He failed. Elena scowled. She crawled out from under the canvas cover, sat next to her companion and spent some time studying their new home.

The streets of Bayonne seethed with a disorderly blur of pedestrians, handcarts, dinosaurs and market stalls. Elena had her usual response to a Gap city -- at first she thought there must be an impending battle, then she recalled that people here always went around dressed in archaic armour and sporting massive swords. The glint of steel plate made the sea of people look like an ocean view, sparkling in the sunshine. Isaac tugged on the reins and guided the parasaurs to the left, past rows of empty pens and away from the high towers near the palace.

The palace. Elena didn't know much about this city but she could certainly distinguish the palace. Far and away the largest structure in the city, it hulked at the far end of the main street like a marble gladiator trying to intimidate all around it. She thought about trying to break into that place and decided she didn't want to.

"Del Maraviez aren't paying us enough for this."

Philip grunted.

"How are we supposed to find this document? And what's to stop them from just writing another? This is stupid."

Philip added a shrug to his grunt. Elena smacked his shoulder and grinned, the rare expression transforming her face.

"You know, you should let somebody else talk for a while. Blab, blab, blab."

They sat in silence, comfortably side-by-side, for the rest of the short ride to the River Home.

*****

As the wagons rolled to a stop, Arrafin was suddenly buffetted by a rush of Hinsuan dancers surging past her out into the fresh air. She spluttered and grabbed at her notes, papers billowing in the air. Nevid caught a few as they whirled out into the inn yard, and handed them back to Arrafin with a stiff smile.

"Thanks, Nevid. I am SO glad that's -- "

She broke off as the young Saijadani turned and walked away from her. The grin on her face held its position as if frozen for a few seconds then faded into confusion. She turned to find Bel, the dancer who'd been talking with her earlier, holding a few more sheets of paper. Putting Nevid's strange behaviour from her mind, Arrafin set about trying to organize her notes all over again, chatting with Bel as the two young women made their way toward the inn door.

*****

The arrival of Nitara's troupe always heralded a busy night in the River Inn, as travelling merchants up from Pavairelle or down from Burnoll, Saijadani mercenaries looking to sign up with the King, Yshakan tradesmen in their buckskins and a few Kishaks here and there, red faces hellish in the lamplight, crowded into the common room, jostling for seats near the front.

The gallery around the room was crowded also, as spectators leaned on the railings and watched the curtain across the stage sway.

Nitara's troupe was well-known for the beauty and grace of its members. Nitara herself had retired from dancing years ago, and sat at the side of the stage waiting for her girls to emerge. Next to her sat her constant companion, the elderly Hinsuan man Kalibar. He, too, watched the stage, oblivious to Elena's stare.

Elena, face scrubbed clean, sat with Arrafin and Philip and Nevid at a trestle table on the main floor, squashed next to a chubby woman who drank her beer with noisy satisfaction. The Saijadani woman kept only half an ear on her friends' conversation as she studied the old man by the stage.

"The path of the mother. The path of the child."

Nevid sat with his back to the stage, watching the crowd.

Philip nudged him.

"Any idea who this contact of ours is supposed to be?"

"No. But I sure hope it isn't Boyce."

"Boyce? That thief we met in Chimney? Nevid, he works for the King, he's not going to help us ruin the King's plans. We're trying to pull the rug out on the King's finances, Boyce is going to kill us if he finds out."

"Then you'd better shut up, because he's coming over to our table."

Elena turned at that, twisted to follow Nevid's gaze, and hurriedly smoothed back her dark hair, brushed at the beer stain on her jerkin and then completely failed to look nonchalant.

Arrafin looked up in delighted surprise as the handsome Gap rogue joined their table.

"Boyce! How are you?"

"Look at you lot! You finally decided to come to the greatest city in all Barsoom, did you?" Boyce grinned and winked down at Arrafin, who immediately blushed. He thumped Philip on the shoulder. "Good to see you, di Guzma. Shove over there and let me sit next to your lovely friend."

Elena smiled politely as Boyce squeezed in between her and Philip.

There was an uncomfortable couple of seconds as nobody spoke. Boyce smiled around at everyone, waiting for some response.

Nevid kept watching the crowd. Philip swirled the beer in his mug and stared at the bubbles. Elena pursed her lips and continued to watch Kalibar, who was doing nothing.

Arrafin smiled brightly.

"You're not here for some sort of secret meeting with enemies of the King, are you?"

Everyone else at the table suddenly seemed struck with respiratory problems as Boyce turned to the thin Naridic girl, a confused expression on his chiseled face.

"What?"

Arrafin's sudden laugh was tinged with hysteria.

"Joke. Ha. Ha. Ooh, look, dancing girls."

She slumped as the men all turned in unison to watch the curtain pull back and lithe young brown-skinned girls leapt onto the stage to roar of general approval.

They really were very good. Arrafin nodded, impressed, as the dancers went through their show. Bel had explained to her how the dances were really stories, like epic plays, and she'd written copious notes as the Hinsuan girl had recited one long, involved tale of familial betrayal and revenge after another. It was hard to pick them out under their elaborate costumes, but Arrafin recognized Bel's lanky stance in the gold-faced swordsman just then twirling about in frantic pirouettes.

Conversation halted as the performance went on, most of the men (and many of the women) in the audience struck silent as if intensely concentrating. When the clashing, herky-jerky music stopped and the girls bowed, there was a second of silence and then a sudden rush of applause.

Boyce leaned back and eyed his friends.

"Now what are you lot up to in the glorious metropolis of Bayonne? Surely you didn't come all this way just to see me?"

He grinned at Elena.

"Or did you?"

Elena rolled her eyes.

"No, Boyce, we're just working with Nitara for a while. A way to travel around a bit, is all."

Boyce studied the others, serious for just a moment. He grinned and leaned forward on the table.

"Well, here you are now, in my very own home town. Drinks are on me, and I won't take "No" for an answer."


----------



## barsoomcore

*Bayonne Opera Blues -- Part Four -- Raining and Pouring*

Elena spoke first. Her face showed not a trace of humour or friendliness.

"If some no-good Gap pretty-boy thinks he can outdrink a good Saijadani girl, he's in for some serious learning."

Boyce's eyes opened wide and he started frantically signalling for the serving boy to veer past their table.

"Why don't you fill us in on what's going on here, Boyce?"

Isaac drained his own glass and thumped it down on the table with a grin. A jug appeared and refilling took place in a messy sort of way. Boyce looked the group over with his trademark smirk in place.

"Okay, so you know the King has been bringing in mercenaries. No secret. Those goodies we, uh, rescued from Chimney?"

"Stole," muttered Arrafin.

"Rescued, my dear. Anyway, those valuables went to the King -- so he could pay those sword-slingers. You know he's hired the Dark Talon Company, right? Crazy Shaer bastards, no question. Crazier than us, some of them. But they don't come cheap. Nope.

"So I've been in charge of whatyoucallit, fund-raising."

"Fund-raising."

Nevid frowned.

"Why you? No offence, Boyce, but why did the King choose you?"

Boyce's smirk grew and he actually blushed. Which caused Elena to actually smile. The chain reaction was not lost on Arrafin.

"Well that's a long story, my friend, and I'll tell you everything in great detail after I've retired."

"Retired."

"I know, I know, I look young and healthy and handsome and in the prime of my life and my hair's still beautiful and my face is unlined and I don't know how you can stand to be around me I'm so good-looking, but it is true that time eats away at us all and -- "

Elena cut him off just as he was building up a good rhythm.

"Whatever. You're stealing money so the King can pay his mercenaries so he can conquer the rest of the Gap."

Boyce grimaced.

"You make stealing sound so... illegal."

Nevid had not taken his eyes off Boyce since his original question, and he did not do so now as he spoke.

"So you know the King, then?"

"Sure! Course I know him. We're good friends, the King and I."

"Could you introduce us?"

"Love to, of course, ordinarily I would, but he's not in town right now. Dunno when he'll get back."

Boyce's eyes suddenly widened and he grinned manically.

"Hey, why don't I show around the palace? We could head out tomorrow, wander around, I'll introduce to some folks, maybe Collette'll be there."

There was a crash as Philip fell off his chair, and a confused couple of seconds while he sorted out the relative positions of his feet, his head and the floor, but then he turned to Boyce.

"Collette? Who's she?"

"Collette de Maynard. She's working with the del Orofin representative here. Nice girl, a little too serious, but nice."

"Nice."

Philip thought back to the night he'd spent in jail at Collette's whim. The duel he'd gotten involved in due to her scheming.

His expression blackened and Elena leaned forward to distract Boyce.

"Are you two involved? You sound pretty sweet on her."

Boyce paid no further attention to Philip as the Saijadani lowered himself back to his chair, still reeling from the news that his hated enemy was here. He turned to look at Nevid, who had likewise been shocked by Boyce's casual revelation.

Collette had danced circles around them in Fort Burnoll, swindling them out crucial information, getting Philip involved in a duel (the fact that Philip had broken the conditions of the duel and beheaded his opponent and was therefore a man with a price on his head never got mentioned), getting them thrown in jail and generally leading them around by the nose, making them look foolish and then scarpering off with the goods.

"We have to tell Isabella that she's here. This is serious."

Philip nodded.

"I knew I'd be saying this, I just didn't think it would be so soon. I wish Aubrey were here."

*****

"The Path of the Mother. The Path of the Child."

Elena lay on her cot, listening to Arrafin sleep and trying to keep the room from spinning too much. The Naridic girl was a restless sleeper, always muttering to herself as she tossed and turned. Outside, the streets of Bayonne were quiet, with only distant braying from the game pens disturbing the air.

At least she hadn't disgraced Saijadan in matching Boyce drink for drink.

Rising from bed, Elena stepped carefully across the room to the door, opened it and slipped out into the hallway just as Arrafin mumbled, "I learned to read at home."

She made her way down the hallway, past the other inn rooms, towards the rear of the building. Elena was a big woman, but she moved with surprising grace and her footsteps made no sound as she walked. She opened the back door of the inn and slipped into the yard.

"The Path of the Mother. The Path of the Child."

Nitara's wagon was the nearest to the inn wall. Elena, not bothering with stealth any longer, strolled around to the back of the wagon and looked up at the door. She debated inside herself for a while and then knocked softly.

Inside she heard a low chuckle and the door opened.

Nitara leaned against the door, a thick velvet robe wrapped around her. She smiled down at Elena and gestured for the woman to enter.

Elena nodded and smiled, and climbed up into the wagon. Nitara's dark eyes watched her go by. Kalibar sat on the floor of the wagon, staring at the Saijadani woman as she came in.

"Yes. Sit down, child."

Elena sat. She heard Nitara close the door behind her. Kalibar smiled.

"The path of the mother. I can see you upon it, Elena del los Santos. You walk this path."

"What are you talking about? I don't understand."

Kalibar's smile widened.

"You do. You understand me perfectly."

Elena shook her head.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Why won't you explain?"

"You hear me."

"Yes, I hear you."

"But I am not speaking."

Elena frowned, confused for a second. Her mouth fell open as she realised not one word had been spoken aloud since she had entered the wagon.

*****

Philip also lay awake, also listening to his roommate sleep. Nevid snored heavily, which didn't surprise Philip so much. The young man had gone a little overboard on the beer and had been carried up to the room.

Collette. Philip's hands itched for the Gap woman's throat.

He could see her face clearly. Black hair, sleepy, half-open eyes, sly, mocking, hateful.

He lay awake a long time with that face before him. While Nevid snored.

*****

"What are you doing? How are you doing it?"

"We are both doing it, Elena. As I have said, I walk the path of the child. As a child I learned these skills -- only as a child can one learn them."

"I didn't learn them as a child."

"No. You walk the path of the mother. You are born to this, Elena. For you, it is not a question of learning, but discovering. I can set you on that journey, if you wish. But you cannot turn back, once you have begun."

Elena turned away from the intensity of Kalibar's stare. Suddenly the kindly old man seemed like a majestic figure, clothed in power and wisdom. She looked over where Nitara sat, watching, her robe gathered around her.

It took a few seconds for Elena to find her voice.

"Are you... what's the word... psychic, too?"

The wagon rocked a little from a sudden thump and there was a worried squeak from outside. Nitara and Kalibar exchanged a frown, and then the dancer went to the door, whipped it open and dragged in a sputtering, unkempt Arrafin.

"I wasn't listening! Promise! Well okay I was but nobody was saying anything! What's going on? Elena?"


----------



## barsoomcore

And that's how Elena's player discovered that her character was a psion. This is the first hint that Barsoom's whole "no magic" position is perhaps not quite as complete as it might seem...


----------



## Carnifex

Hey, Barsoomcore, just to say, I'm thinking of using your swashbuckling card system for a sci-fi d20 game I plan to run 

Have now started on reading the SH too


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## Carnifex

Oops, doublepost.


----------



## xrpsuzi

barsoomcore said:
			
		

> *absolutely refuses to comment on fathers approving of daughters dressing as Dallas cheerleaders*




This from the man whose running the "all stewardess, all the time" game and is writing a story hour centered around dancing girls??? 

Very cool intro of psionic in Elena... but what happened to Aubrey? Did I miss it? Or has it yet to be explained?

-Suzi


----------



## barsoomcore

Aubrey's disappearance happened during an adventure that we've skipped over. There'll be a reference to it in the next section. Never fear, you didn't miss a thing.

And I have never fathered a stewardess.


----------



## Desdichado

My daughter was a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader once.  Of course, we did that after moving to Michigan.  It served two purposes -- 1) proclaimed our undying allegiance to the Great Republic of Texas, regardless of our actual current location, and 2) Halloween in Michigan required her to wear a white turtleneck underneath it.


----------



## barsoomcore

Arrafin scribbled madly as Kalibar spoke.

"The human mind has powers undreamed of by most. Sadly, for the majority of us, if we do not receive training to develop these abilities at a very young age, the mind grows resistant and unable to manifest these powers.

"For some, however, the power lurks so strongly within them that even without training, it begins to manifest. Such are you, Elena. Within your mind this power lives, radiant enough that I could perceive it before you were even aware of its existence.

"I can draw this power forth, Elena de los Santos, if you wish."

Elena looked over at Arrafin. The Naridic girl's normally wide eyes seemed to fill half her face. She nodded, curls shaking. Elena scowled and turned back to the old man.

"Alright. Is it going to hurt?"

"Hold still."

Arrafin forgot to write as she watched the frail old man reach out and grasp Elena's face in a gnarled hand. He smiled and exhaled slowly. Elena's eyes fluttered and she sagged, groaning quietly. Startled, Arrafin moved to help her friend, but Nitara's strong hand on her shoulder restrained her.

"She'll be fine."

She stared in confusion and growing wonder as a fine tracery of dark lines worked themselves into Elena's face, like a striking, but barely visible tattoo of some abstract design. Elena's eyes popped open and she sat up, staring around her in confusion.

"That's the weirdest thing I've ever seen."

*****

Breakfast at the River Inn was a wholesome affair of eggs whipped and fried with spicy sausage, fresh peppers, sliced cabbage and sharp winter onions, served with an almost-frozen mix of wine and fruit. Philip came downstairs with his mouth watering, to find the two girls eating quietly.

"Where's Nevid?"

They both shrugged.

"What's the plan?"

Another shrug.

"Are we going to the palace?"

Elena did not look up as she spoke.

"Don't know."

Philip stood for a second, unhappy with the lack of information but too confused by the attitude of his friends to figure out how to proceed, then shrugged and sat down. Women had largely been a source of confusion in Philip's life, anyway, so that Elena and Arrafin were behaving in some incomprehensible manner only reaffirmed his notions.

He signalled for food and got down to business.

Arrafin looked up, glanced quickly at Philip and then studied Elena's face. The lines that had formed there last night were just barely visible, surrounding the Saijadani woman's eyes in a delicate filigree of curls and swoops. Elena met her eyes and they stared at each other for a second. Arrafin was burning with questions, but last night Elena had refused to talk about what had happened, and now, in front of Philip, she just couldn't bring herself to mention it. She took a deep breath and smiled, then turned to Philip.

"It's too bad we don't have Aubrey with us. This would be right up his alley, don't you think?"

Philip nodded and wiped at his chin. Elena scowled.

"I guess Isabella had more important things for him to do."

Philip shrugged.

"I get the impression she was more worried about those Kishaks in Highpass than her note let on. I hope he's okay. They find out he's spying, he's not going to last long. There's probably _Nevakada_ agents all over that town."

All three of them suppressed a shudder at the mention of the Kishak secret service.

"So? There's probably _Nevakada_ here, too. One of us is probably a _Nevakada_ agent."

The three friends looked up to find Nevid standing at the head of the table, studying them curiously. Elena stood up to glare at him.

"How can you say that? You think I'm a Nevakada agent? To hell with you."

Nevid swallowed and backed away from Elena, who was substantially taller than he and clearly outweighed him by a significant amount.

"I'm not saying that. Just, I mean, you never know, right? That's all. I'm not saying you're a, you know, that we shouldn't..."

Arrafin rolled her eyes.

"Sit down, Nevid. Elena won't hurt you."

Elena raised her eyebrows in silent query but sat down again, still glowering at Nevid, who managed to get himself into a seat without shaking too much. He leaned forward and spoke quietly.

"The del Orofin have rented a house here in town. Collette is staying there along with Juan Antonio del Orofin, the family representative here. He's the one negotiating the deal with the King."

Philip clenched his fists at the name "del Orofin".

"Who's this Juan Antonio?"

"He's the son of Pilar del Orofin, one of the senior family members. Kind of young to be handling something this important -- I bet Pilar is grooming him for future leadership. Supposed to be good with a rapier, at least he's killed a few folks in duels back in Cadencia."

Philip sneered and put a hand on the hilt of his father's sword. He spoke quietly.

"There must be a copy of the agreement there. I say we break in, search the place, steal the document and get out of town before anyone even knows we're here."

"What about Boyce? He's expecting to show us around the palace."

Elena smiled.

"Assuming he wasn't feeding us a complete pack of lies. I wouldn't trust that man any farther than I could throw him. What?"

The last question was directed at Arrafin, who was regarding Elena with a skeptical expression. She hurriedly looked down at the tabletop.

"Nothing, nothing."

Elena scowled around at the others.

"It's not like I have some crush on him. Sure, he's handsome enough, but I'm not some silly girl losing her head over the first guy to wink at her. I'm NOT falling for with Boyce. As if."

Boyce coughed from behind her.

"I won't say I'm not disappointed."

*****

"That's Roanna, Captain of the Palace Guard. Hey, Ro, whaddya know?"

Boyce waved at the tall woman in her gleaming armour, who smiled back and shook out her hair. Elena's scowl deepened. She still hadn't looked at Arrafin since they'd left the River Inn.

The palace gleamed with polished marble, brass and dark teak. Everywhere the clank of armour and the tramp of booted feet. Every belt supported either a big battlefield sword or, sometimes, a massive double-headed axe. Even the Chancellor looked ready to take on half the Kishak army.

Philip sighed. The people of the Gap were mad, always ready to go to war over the slightest provocation -- with each other. He could understand cutting down Kishaks anywhere they stood, but fighting each other seemed the height of idiocy.

Nevid's mind was racing. Boyce really WAS connected to King Percival. He certainly had full access to the palace, where everyone seemed to treat him like a well-loved little brother, indulgent of his lackadasical attitude and cheery nonchalance. And he seemed to trust Nevid and the others absolutely -- he was blithely showing them around the palace without the slightest hint of concern.

He dropped back to whisper to Philip.

"You know, it might be easier to break in here and steal the document. There must be a copy here as well."

"Well," said Philip, "At least at the del Orofin house the guards aren't already on a first-name basis with us."

"Juan Antonio! Let me introduce you to my friends."

Both Nevid and Philip froze as Boyce waved over a tall, hook-nosed individual in the red and yellow of the del Orofin. The newcomer looked over the little group with evident disdain.

"This is Elena de los Santos, Arrafin al-Fasir beni Hassan, Nevid of the del Maraviez and Philip di Guzma."

His eyes widened as Philip's name was given and he stared at the burly Saijadani, clearly thinking with furious speed. He came to some decision and smiled, then sneered.

"del Maraviez lapdogs. Go back to Isabella and tell her her meddling will do no good here."

Boyce looked back and forth between Juan Antonio and his friends.

"We'll just be moving along, then. Sorry to bother you, Senor del Orofin."

As they walked off, Arrafin turned to Philip.

"Do you know him?"

"No. Why?"

"Well I can't imagine somebody would hate you that much unless they knew you."

Arrafin frowned.

"I didn't quite mean that the way it sounded."

"It's okay. No, I've never met him before."

"He sure seemed to know your name."

"Yes. He sure did."

Philip bit his lip.

"I shouldn't have come. I'm endangering the mission."


----------



## Eyas

Back to the first page with you. A story this good should not lurk on page 2 or 3.


----------



## barsoomcore

"Explain to me once more how this seemed like a good idea."

Philip shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, his roughly stubbled face out of sorts with the refined interior of the del Orofin sitting room.

"Well, we're in, aren't we? And we didn't have to kill anybody, did we?"

The big Saijadani turned to glare at Elena.

"And what do we say when that door opens up and that bitch Collette walks in?"

They were seated (except for Nevid, who was standing) in the sitting room of the del Orofin house, waiting for Collette de Maynard to be announced. Philip tried again to recall how they'd come up with this plan. It was hard. They'd gone out drinking with Boyce last night at his favourite pub, The Dog's Breakfast, and well, of course they had to prove to a bunch of Gap yahoos that Saijadani were smarter, more morally upright and generally better-favoured by the winds of fortune -- which meant they of course had to drink more than their hosts.

Their hosts, thought Philip grumpily, who were probably still sleeping in this morning hour, while here he and his friends were, preparing to trade wits with the woman who'd so badly out-maneuvered them in their last encounter.

Let Nevid talk. Philip kept reminding himself of that. Let Nevid do the talking.

Risking a glance at the younger man, Philip noticed that Nevid had turned a rather interesting shade of pale green and was staring in a fixed sort of way at the windowsill. He recalled that of all of them, it had been Nevid who became the most vociferous in ordering more bottles of whatever it was they were drinking. And he had a vague recollection of CARRYING Nevid back to the River Inn. A recollection that involved watching Boyce and Elena stumble along, arms around each others' waists...

Philip scowled.

"Let's just leave. I have a very bad feeling about this."

Arrafin rolled her eyes.

"And tell them what? You already gave them your name."

She frowned at the door.

"I wonder what's taking her so long? Is she usually this slow? Or is this a Saijadani custom? Oh, but she's from the Gap, isn't she? On the other hand, this is a Saijadani house..."

The Naridic girl's voice trailed off as she got lost in contemplating the interactions of social niceties.

Elena ignored Philip and the others. She stared at the floorboards, trying to understand what had happened inside her mind since Kalibar had "awakened" her.

It was like discovering new muscles she'd never known she had. Muscles she could flex, and push, and relax. She couldn't say exactly HOW she made them work, but she could feel them responding to her commands. It was very strange, and more than a little bit intimidating.

She looked up as the door flew open.

Juan Antonio's gaze circled the room and settled on Philip. He smiled, a cold, vicious smile that made Elena want to punch him in the face. She got to her feet along with everyone else.

He wore a waistcoat of dark red velvet, yellow silk at his throat and fine leather leggings over his polished boots. His hair oiled back over his ears, making his face appear even more pointed and predatory than it already did. At his belt hung a slim rapier with a jeweled hilt. He rested his left hand on it.

"Collette sends her regards. She seems to think you mean trouble for us. Not that we're worried. Cringing little mutts like you aren't likely to interfere in matters requiring subtlety and intelligence."

Elena yawned.

"Let me know when you're done with lame insults, grease monkey."

Anger flashed in Juan Antonio's eyes. He whirled on Philip.

"Here to avenge your father's death? Think you had us fooled? Bah! We've been on to you for ages, del Valencia. How pathetic, your clumsy disguise. No doubt Philip died in a cave-in and you thought to run like the coward you are."

Arrafin, Elena and Nevid all frowned and turned to Philip. Arrafin began to speak.

"del Valencia? Isn't your name di Guz--"

"Your friend is not Philip di Guzma. Philip was an employee of THIS house. Your friend is Isaac del Valencia, the murderer of Philip di Guzma and son of a confessed traitor to Saijadan."

Philip's voice (or, more accurately if less familiarly, Isaac's voice) rattled in a low growl.

"You lie."

Juan Antonio barked a laugh.

"Do you want to hear how he begged for his life on the scaffold? How he cried like a frightened child?"

He paused and drew in a breath, savouring the moment.

"Or would you rather hear how your mother begged?"

Isaac's hand (or, less accurately if more familiarly, Philip's hand) gripped the hilt of his old-fashioned field sword.

"Don't you say a word about my mother."

"She didn't beg for her life, of course. She just begged.... for more."

Arrafin's eyes grew so wide they seemed to overlap.

"Don't you--"

"I wouldn't call her skilled, unfortunately, but she was... enthusiastic."

"Don't..."

"I don't blame you for your many failings, Isaac. After all, you are the son of a cowardly traitor..."

"Don't..."

"...and a whore."

The big sword hissed out of Isaac's sheath. Juan Antonio laughed and stepped back.

"You wish to play? Very well, young man. I am happy to accomodate you. But perhaps outside? I don't want to get your filthy coward's blood all over my fine furnishings."

Isaac could only growl, and began to follow Juan Antonio as their host left the room. Coming to a stop as Elena slammed the door shut in his face.

"Don't do this, Philip."

"Isaac. My name is Isaac."

"I don't care. Don't do this. He's too confident. He's going to kill you."

"My name is Isaac del Valencia. His family destroyed mine. They killed my father and they took my mother and they took our lands and they threw me into prison and they sent a man to kill me. I am the last del Valencia and I am going to kill him or put an end to this now."

Isaac tore open the door and stormed out. The other three all stared at each other, then raced to follow him.

Outside, a crowd was gathering. Juan Antonio had his hands in the air and was loudly declaiming to those assembled (and more arrived every second) about how he was being forced to cut down this witless young man who'd escaped from prison and was even now avoiding justice.

Philip took off his cloak and laid it by the steps. He scowled at Juan Antonio's theatrics and rolled his shoulders, shook his head from side to side as he descended to the street. He saw the tottering old butler come tottering out and pick up his cloak, then go tottering back inside just as his three friends emerged. He turned his back on them and drew his sword, swinging it through a few practice strokes as Juan Antonio continued to natter away.

The crowd had grown. Folks in Bayonne liked their duels public and with lots of fanfare, it seemed. Arrafin looked around for one of the familiar crimson robes of the Blood Council, but it seemed this duel would be fought without the sanction of the ancient order and its restrictions. She bit her lip and fretted as Juan Antonio and Philip -- or rather, Isaac -- faced one another.

Juan Antonio took his time. He pulled on his duelling gloves, light calfskin, and tugged at the silk cuffs of his shirt. Making a show of deliberation, he drew his rapier in a slow, fluid gesture and let it dangle from his hand as he studied Isaac's stance. He sneered at the heavy longsword of his opponent.

"No doubt you stole that from a museum somewhere?"

"It was my father's."

"Ah. Then it's never been used, I presume?"

"Whenever you're ready, del Orofin."

Juan Antonio bowed, smiled, and lunged.

Nevid managed to grin feebly at Elena.

"Guess we ARE going to kill somebody after all."


----------



## barsoomcore

From the top floor of the del Orofin house, Collette de Maynard watched in horror as Juan Antonio squared off against Isaac. del Valencia's broad shoulders and loose, unconcerned posture gave no indication of the emotion that must be surging through his body.

She cursed her host for a fool and stamped her foot in rage.

She knew she should run. There were papers everywhere, damning papers that would get the del Orofin family ejected from the Customs House if they came to light. Papers that would incriminate dozens of people across Saijadan and the Gap.

Not her, of course. Collette was far too careful to attach her name to any documents. Her anger subsided as she reminded herself. Always a plan. Always another door to slip through.

She froze, as did everyone on the street, as Juan Antonio lunged forward, blade flashing in the morning sun.

*****

Elena was so stunned she nearly forgot all about what had just happened to her last night.

Philip was not Philip.

She watched Juan Antonio prepare for the duel, unable to focus, too overcome with shock and betrayal to pay attention to what was happening right in front of her.

Philip was Isaac. Isaac?

She looked at her friend, strong, cynical, reliable Philip, and tried to imagine that he'd been lying to them all this time. It seemed impossible. She remembered screaming his name as he'd lined up Mara with that big sword, only realising that it wasn't his name after all. She'd been calling out to a total stranger, a dead man, apparently.

Isaac.

She gasped as Juan Antonio leapt forward, the ring of steel pulling her back to the present moment.

*****

Nevid's mind raced furiously, at last distracted from the state of his hangover.

del Valencia. He remembered the name, and few moments' concentration brought out the broad strokes: former noble family, reduced with the rise of the Customs House and Las Familias, entered into a trade agreement with the del Maraviez. Based in Petrahegna, on the far borders of Saijadan. Family head arrested and executed, but Nevid couldn't recall the charges. Nor could he recall any mention of a son.

He wondered if Isabella had known, and decided she must have known all along. The del Maraviez took their debts seriously, and he could well imagine Isabella deciding to look after the young del Valencia without giving away his secret. Isabella del Maraviez always played the angles very carefully, something Nevid was trying to accomplish himself.

His stomach churned and he wondered if he might not have missed a few angles last night. But at least he'd had no nightmares about Chimney. He didn't even notice Juan Antonio's lunge until he heard the clang of Isaac's defence.

*****

Arrafin tried to imagine her own father's death. She couldn't. Her mind ran from the idea.

Poor Philip. Or Isaac.

Arrafin had come to think of Philip as sort of a big brother. He was so protective, so fierce whenever danger came near, and ever since those terrible nights in Chimney when Philip's laconic courage had kept them alive, she'd always felt secure having him around.

She tried to consider if his name had anything to do with that. It didn't. She didn't care what he called himself.

She was curious about what had happened, though. Prison, traitors, all the intrigue of Saijadani politics. It must be an interesting story.

The sight of the two men squaring off drew her back to the current situation in horrified fascination. Growing up in the shadow of the University of Al-Tizim, spending all her days buried in stacks of manuscripts or in the coffee shops around the University, Arrafin had never witnessed a duel. Of course she'd seen bloodshed, far more bloodshed than she'd ever wanted to see, in Chimney, and in Highpass as well there had been some violence, but nothing like this rational preparation for butchery.

These two men, to all intents and purposes sane and intelligent men, stood facing each other, holding sharp piece of metal with which they fully intended to pierce one another's skin and organs in an effort to end the other's life. It was horrifying, as she began to think about it, and without being aware of what she was doing, Arrafin grasped Elena's arm and squeezed.

She cried out as Juan Antonio, without any warning or notice that she could see, leapt forward with his rapier.

*****

This was not Isaac's first duel. As he watched Juan Antonio prepare, he thought back to the last duel he'd engaged in.

That one, too, had involved Collette de Maynard. He wondered if that black-haired minx were watching this one as well, and grimly determined to deliver as good an account of himself this time around.

His sword was not a pretty thing, nor was it a light and agile weapon like the rapier of modern Saijadan. His opponent's weapon was dangerous, but Isaac had learned how to make his sword's greater weight work in his favour. A beat or a bind against his blade would almost never work, and his two-handed grip gave him a great deal more speed and control than most opponents expected.

He tightened his hands on the hilt as something in Juan Antonio's eyes told him the attack was coming.

_There is no such thing as defence, Isaac. Only attacking. Blocking the opponent's sword is an agressive action. You must attack the incoming blade. Defeat it._

Juan Antonio was good. He was very, very good, and even as Isaac whirled his blade in a half-circle to knock aside the incoming thrust, the big Saijdani felt a first stab of worry. He backed away, licking his lips and keeping his sword loose and ready in front of him.

The del Orofin paused and smirked.

"You wish to withdraw, perhaps? You may beg. I will listen to your pleas."

The point of the rapier dropped and before he was even aware of the opening, Isaac stepped forward, his longsword blurring past as he looped it up and then down at the older man's shoulder.

Juan Antonio danced aside, sliding his fine blade in behind the path of Isaac's as it went by, and Isaac had to jump back again from the darting point.

Twice more they closed with each other, steel banging, and each time it was Isaac who leapt back, just managing to avoid his opponent's strikes.

Juan Antonio was better than him. Isaac understood this clearly. He was going to lose this fight.

_It is inevitable, my son. On day you will meet a man who is better than you. You will not be able to defeat everyone you encounter. Recognize when you are outmatched, and resolve to meet your fate with honour._

He would not back away again. Isaac raised his sword high.

*****

Collette swore as she hurriedly changed out of the formal gown she'd donned for visiting the palace and yanked on her travel clothes. However this ended she wanted out of the whole affair. She was sick of fending off Juan Antonio's clumsy embraces and negotiating around his half-witted proclamations.

And, she admitted to herself, she was of two minds about del Valencia. On the one hand, he'd killed Philip, and Collette supposed she should be expected to want revenge for that. On the other, she didn't, particularly, and she wasn't sure why that was. Except, she mused, for the fact that he seemed big, stupid and mean.

_"You always did like them big, stupid and mean, de Maynard."_

She grinned at the memory of Pilar del Orofin's words. The real Philip di Guzma had certainly been all those things, and Collette had certainly liked him well enough. She paused in the hurried lacing of her shirt to lean over to the window and watch the progress of the duel.

Juan Antonio seemed to have things well in hand, but Collette would never again underestimate del Valencia, not after having seen him decapitate Sebastian back in Fort Burnoll. She studied him for second, then turned back to her preparations. Even if Juan Antonio cut down the poor bastard, she was leaving.

*****

Elena watched the first moments of the duel frozen between anger and concern. She glared at Isaac as her friend narrowly avoided Juan Antonio's lightning thrusts. After a couple of close shaves, however, she calmed down a little and her glare turned into a frown of concentration.

He was better than Isaac. Elena didn't know much about swordfighting, but she knew what she was seeing and what she was seeing was one man toying with another. Her brows lowered as her anger shifted from Isaac to his opponent, and as she glared at the well-dressed del Orofin, she felt the new muscles in her mind flex eagerly.

Isaac charged, a powerful sweep of his blade, roaring inarticulately, but Juan Antonio leaned aside, tucked his blade against Isaac's, and with a quick snap jerked it from Isaac's hands.

The clanging of the heavy blade across the cobblestones froze the entire scene into immobility. She saw Juan Antonio smile and begin the final lunge that would end her friend's life, and in her mind she _flexed_.

She wanted to grab the bastard by the lapels of his silk shirt and shake him, scream in his face and throw him to the ground. Instead, she just sort of tapped him on his mental shoulder and cleared her imaginary throat.

Juan Antonio paused for just a second, confused. Isaac scrambled for his sword and snatched it up, but by the time he'd done so, Juan Antonio had thrown off whatever fog was clouding his mind and they faced each other again.

Juan Antonio sneered.

"Eager for more lessons, boy? You should have left the weapon on the ground."

"Not until your head is lying next to it."

Juan Antonio made no reply except to gesture with his sword.

A surge of confidence rushed into Isaac at the unexpected reprieve. He charged in again, knocking aside his opponent's blade and slashing cross-wise with a quick twist of his upper body. He felt his blade bite home and yelled even as he felt a sudden hot pain across his lower side.

They both retreated, both wounded. Isaac had suffered a slight scratch on his left side, but Juan Antonio's left arm was deeply cut. His sword had sunk to the bone, and the arm hung useless at his enemy's side.

This time Isaac was the one who sneered.

"Perhaps I'll take you apart one piece at a time."

"Even a dog can bite if its owner is careless. And I own you, boy."

All trace of amusement left Juan Antonio's face as his rapier spun and flashed in Isaac's face. Isaac fended the lunging point aside once, twice, backing away desperately as his opponent pressed forward, quick strikes coming at him. Something like a muscle cramp seized Isaac's shoulder and then again in his thigh and he realised he'd been stabbed twice, felt blood streaming down his skin, ducked wildly from another thrust that glanced off his forehead, searing a line across his scalp.

_Resolve to meet your fate with honour._

Isaac spun right around, fleeing his opponent's deadly reach, and swung his heavy sword in a flat arc, just trying to drive back that relentless attack.

Elena noticed Arrafin's grip -- the girl was clinging to her for dear life, and yet she was so fragile her fingers barely seemed to press into Elena's arm. She put one hand over Arrafin's and focussed again on Juan Antonio, seeking that sensation, that idea of _flexing_ once again, reaching out for her friend's tormentor.

Again she tapped Juan Antonio's insubstantial shoulder, and once again he paused in his attack, eyes narrowed, as though listening for something.

Isaac noticed the sudden change in the man's expression. He swung again, both hands, grunting with effort as the sword cleaved into Juan Antonio's neck, snapped the vertebrae with a distinct crack, and plowed out the other side, leaving head and torso to collapse to the cobbles just a second before he himself fell to his knees.

There was a hiss of blood spraying across the stones, followed by a quiet sigh from the crowd all around.

Nevid ran for the door of the house, darted inside and tore up the stairs.

Collette heard him coming and charged down the hall, grabbed at a set of files, and flew down the back stairs and out the back door. She ran off down the alley.

Elena and Arrafin rushed to Isaac, helping their friend stand. Arrafin did her best to ignore the twitching corpse and rapidly expanding pool of gore as Elena inspected Isaac's wounds and berated him for six kinds of idiot.

The crowd began to disperse, but departing members paused as Isaac bent down to pick up Juan Antonio's head and staggered over to the tottering old butler at the door.

"For Miss de Maynard, with the compliments of Isaac del Valencia."

He handed over the head and turned away. Nevid came out the front door and joined them.

"I've got the contract. It was lying on a desk upstairs. Collette's run off."

Isaac turned to his friends and smiled, indicated the body on the ground.

"That's one."


----------



## barsoomcore

"Execution? Who said anything about execution?"

Boyce grinned and ran a hand through his hair as he tried to calm Isaac down.

"Look, all I know is the guards're coming for you lot right now. Apparently that del Orofin yahoo was a favourite of the Queen, and she's right miffed that a couple of foreigners have cut down her little buddy."

Isaac looked around at his friends, all of them seated at a trestle table in the common room of the River Inn. They'd just been congratulating each other (particularly Isaac) on the success of their mission (and Isaac's survival) when Boyce came rushing in with the news that they were all slated for immediate arrest and execution.

"But... but... it was a duel. It wasn't a murder. A duel. Damnit, he nearly had me! I made this last incredible swing, Boyce you should have seen it --"

Elena cut off Isaac's burgeoning description.

"Alright, we have to get out of town. Can we leave by the gates? How long until the guards are here?"

She frowned ferociously at Boyce.

"And why are you helping us, anyway?"

Arrafin kicked Elena as hard as she could. The Saijadani woman didn't appear to notice. Boyce plastered a big grin on his face and bowed.

"Well, you lot are old friends, aren't you? I'd hate to see you brought to a low end for something as admirable as cutting off the head of a damned foreigner. No offense. Besides," he took Elena's hand and kissed it, "How could I allow the world to be deprived of such loveliness?"

Elena's scowl dropped away entirely, replaced by astonishment as she gaped at the friendly rogue. Arrafin was delighted to see her friend blush.

Nevid shook his head and spoke quietly.

"Gates'll be closed. We need another exit. Everybody stay here. I'll be back."

The young man got to this feet and went into the kitchen. Boyce watched him go with a bit of a confused expression, then grinned once again.

"And with that, I ought to leave. Can't be found, you know, consorting with criminals."

Isaac snorted.

"Right. Not you."

Boyce bowed, grinned, winked and left. Elena turned to find Arrafin grinning at her.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"What?"

"No, no, nothing. So, Isaac, your father was executed, huh?"

*****

Nevid spoke rapidly with the innkeeper and after several nonsensical phrases were exchanged, showed to middle-aged woman a letter with Isabella's seal on it. The woman bowed immediately and led Nevid to a corner of the kitchen, pushed aside a crate of potatoes and yanked up a hidden trap door.

Nevid nodded and rushed back to his friends.

*****

"Arrafin, what is it?"

"Nothing, Elena. Look, Nevid's back."

The young Saijadani rushed up to the table and looked around at his friends.

"We can get out. Through the sewers."

Isaac scowled.

"Just wander around in the muck and hope we find an exit?"

"No, Isaac. I have directions. Isabella gave them to me before we came here, in case we got into trouble."

Elena didn't quite grab Nevid and shake him.

"Why didn't you tell us about this? You don't trust us?"

"I'm telling you now. We have to go."

"Alright, alright, you've got it all figured out. You and Isabella."

"We have to go."

"Fine. Let's get our stuff and go. But if you keep hiding stuff from us like this, Nevid..."

*****

A hundred paces through the sewers of Bayonne and Isaac was ready to take his chances up on the streets, execution or no.

Nevid kept insisting they just go straight, ignoring all turns and side passages. The walls dripped with cold muck and their footsteps echoed down the brick tunnels into darkness. Strange and alarming things skittered unseen on all sides. SOMETHING crawly and possessed of far too many legs had already dropped onto Isaac's shoulder, only to be flung to the ground and stomped into bits.

They passed a couple of ancient staircases climbing up, presumably to entrances like that they had descended from the River Inn. One was guarded, but a sharp crack over the head with the hilt of Isaac's father's sword took care of him, and the group was quickly on their way again.

"So... your father? Executed?"

Arrafin had tried a few conversational gambits but Isaac so far had resisted her probes. He did so now by simply grunting in reply. Elena took up the challenge.

"So what should we call you? Philip? Isaac? Or just, 'Hey you, the one that's been lying to us all this time'?"

Isaac grunted again.

"You're going to crack eventually, whatever your name is."

Grunt.

*****

The tunnel eventually opened onto a cave that opened onto the river, where a pair of rowboats were tethered. Isaac and Arrafin took one boat (Arrafin struggling just to lift the paddle), while Nevid and Elena took the other (Nevid not even bothering to lift the paddle).

The river flowed broad and smooth, winding its way down through the rocky, tree-covered hills of the Gap. Stands of oak sent heavy roots down the steep riverbanks, where tall grasses waved in slow celebration of the foursome's escape. Occasional herds of crested hadrosaurs teemed in the shallows, bellowing to each other and watching the rowboats drift by.

Three days passed on the river, quiet times with no sign of pursuit. Isaac remained uncommunicative, staring at the water or the passing banks. He turned over and over again the death of Juan Antonio in his mind, wondering at the lack of satisfaction in his own heart. It was over too fast, maybe. Or perhaps the lucky nature of his victory took away some of the joy he should be feeling, having begun to acquire his revenge. Strange the way Juan Antonio had just frozen like that, just at the right moment...

Arrafin caught up on her notes, elaborating extensively on the relationships of Las Familias. She knew the del Orofin Familia was bitterly opposed to the del Maraviez, and that both were among the wealthiest, the most powerful of the trading families that controlled Saijadan. Her notes included comments like, "Must get more names!" and "Ask Nevid?"

Elena studied the water and the banks with nearly as much moodiness as Isaac. The nature of her new-found powers confused her. She'd never know such things were possible, and suddenly now here she was, apparently performing miracles. Over and over again she wished they hadn't had to leave Bayonne so precipitiously, that she'd had another chance to talk to the elderly Kalibar. She tried to reach out to him in her mind, but felt nothing.

Nevid glowed with satisfaction. He had the contract, Juan Antonio's death could only complicate things even further for the del Orofin, and Collette had been foiled quite nicely. The King, lacking del Orofin funds, might have to abandon his plan of conquest. An excellent few days' work. He smiled.

*****

A single figure stood on the rocky shoal that was the mouth of the river. He was tall, slender, and pink.

Leaving their boats in the shallow water, the four struggled across the loose rocks to approach him.

He was obviously part-Kishak, but equally obviously part-not-Kishak -- instead of the Kishak deep red he seemed pale, though still with the dark hair and eyes of his Kishak heritage.

"I'm Etienne. Marques sent me to pick you up and bring you to Pavairelle."

"Marques?"

"Marques del Maraviez."

Isaac snorted, unimpressed.

"How could he have known we would be here? WE didn't even know we'd be here."

The man named Etienne shrugged.

"Marques will explain. This way."

Arrafin had already gotten out a sheet of paper with a little blank space on it.

"'Etienne' doesn't sound like a Kishak name."

"My mother was from Cour Chonfoux in the Gap. I grew up in Pavairelle."

"Ooh. What's it like?"

"Greatest city on Barsoom."

Arrafin's eyebrows rose.

"Have you been to Al-Tizim?"

"No."

"Then how do you know?"

"I know. Wait and see."

*****

"Is that a sail?"

They'd come aboard a small fishing vessel, lacking in basic amenities but apparently sea-worthy. Nevid immediately began to throw up, and was still doing so when Elena pointed out away from the coast they were following.

The captain immediately shouted something incomprehensible and their ship's sail sagged and suddenly dropped. The fishing boat slowed in the water as the other ship approached.

Arrafin caught the expression of worry in Etienne's face and turned to watch him face the captain.

"What is it?"

"Pirates."

Isaac started loading his pistols.

Elena sighed and swore loudly.

Nevid's stomach heaved again.

Arrafin took out a short pencil.

"Pirates? How long have there been pirates around here? Have you ever met a pirate? Are they as ferocious as everyone says?"


----------



## barsoomcore

And that is the end of _Bayonne Opera Blues_ -- I meant to title every episode but you know, it was just too much trouble.

Next up, _Make It There_ -- life in the big city proves even more dangerous than captured by pirates. Arrafin asks one question too many, Isaac gets himself into yet another duel, Elena makes a friend, Nevid finds a girlfriend and Etienne turns out to be no more completely insane than the rest of our friends...


----------



## Desdichado

I'm enjoying this Story Hour more all the time.  I might actually have to go read your Season logs on your web page to find out more.


----------



## barsoomcore

Joshua Dyal said:
			
		

> I'm enjoying this Story Hour more all the time.  I might actually have to go read your Season logs on your web page to find out more.



 The website logs are notoriously uninformative -- they're really just a long series of obnoxious comments about the party's foolishness, with a pretty unforgivable lack of actual information about anything that's happening.

They're meant to be more a memory jog for folks who were actually there -- "Oh, yeah... THAT insane sorcerer!" -- than to provide entertainment for those who weren't. When I started writing that log it never occurred to me that people not playing in the game would have the slightest interest in reading about it.

The dark days before ENWorld, this was.

When I started getting emails from folks I'd never met complaining that they couldn't follow the story I started to think about creating something a little more detailed.

Et voila!

(no, no relation to your aunt, JD. Unless she's French)


----------



## Desdichado

Heh, heh.  Good memory.  She's not, although I think her father was in the trenches in France in that thur Great War.  I'm not entirely sure; he died long before I was born.


----------



## barsoomcore

*Make It There -- Part One*

All tied up, bound hand and foot, gagged, placed in a circle facing each other, Isaac, Elena, Nevid, Arrafin and Etienne pondered their situation.

Pirate John had turned out to be less blood-thirsty and more charming than anyone had expected. His ship, dwarfing their little fishing vessel, drifted alongside and aboard came swinging Pirate John -- bluff, hearty and with a twinkle in his eye. As pirates went, he was practically a good guy.

Bound and determined, however, to hold his new captives for ransom, especially when he heard they were del Maraviez employees.

"del Maraviez, eh? And just what do they pay you for, I wonder? Delivering messages, perhaps?"

He yanked the document from Nevid's belt and perused it.

"The King himself? Very nice."

With an elaborate flourish he handed back the paper.

"I'm sure the family would pay handsomely to have that returned to them in a timely fashion. No more than they would pay for your health and well-being, of course. I don't mean to imply that they would value some musty document more than your own self."

He bowed. Arrafin giggled. All of them, struck somewhat confused by their captor's courtesy, filed aboard the pirate ship and waved goodbye to the captain who'd surrendered so easily.

"The stars! The stars have fallen! The nine-fold stars have fallen!"

"That's Crazy Adil. Don't pay any attention to him."

Pirate John waved at the raving Naridic man. The other crew members grinned and seemed to treat the elderly maniac with tolerant sympathy, pushing him gently aside whenever he got in the way, and agreeably nodding to all his dire pronouncements.

"The nine-fold stars have fallen! Awake! Awake! Tabbadur has been thrown open! Awake! The stars!"

"Thanks. We'll ponder that. This way, please."

Now here they were, trapped, tied up and stuck in a sort of attic chamber on Pirate John's island. A makeshift wooden door led to the stairs down to water level, and one entire wall of the chamber was open, revealing a drop of eighty feet or so to the water. The island was peculiarly put together, with a sort of a grotto cutting through it, high enough for John's ship to berth inside, forming a natural hiding place, complete with a dock, various chambers for crew members and loot, and this upper chamber where they were currently imprisoned.

With Crazy Adil, who seemed to have attached himself to Arrafin.

"Hejan of tomorrow! Awake! The stars! The stars!"

Elena growled through her gag. "Rrrr. Rrrr. Rrrr, rrrr."

Isaac answered. "Rrrr. Rrrr."

Pirate John's ship was not in the grotto; the pirate had left immediately, promising to bring word of their ransom.

"What if the del Maraviez won't pay for us?"

John shrugged.

"Then I let you go. I'm not a savage, my dear sir. Merely an honest businessman."

He considered.

"A dishonest businessman, I suppose. Pirate, you know."

With a jaunty salute, Pirate John strode from the chamber and then his ship sailed away and here they were, watching each other try to speak through their gags. Pirate John had cleverly lashed them to each other so they were unable to reach each other's bonds and so they sat for a while, listening to the guards left downstairs sing a sea shanty.

Arrafin looked around for a pencil to jot down the words.

Nevid hoped Isabella wouldn't be too disappointed in him.

Isaac replayed the duel with Juan Antonio in his head, grim satisfaction filling him as he watched the del Orofin's head tumble to the cobblestones.

Etienne, entirely new to this group, watched his compatriots carefully. They seemed strangely non-plussed at their sudden captivity. He knew very little about them, only that they were agents of the del Maraviez, as was he himself, and that he was to bring them to Pavairelle safe and sound.

Not doing so well on that one, he mused.

Elena concentrated. She could recall the way in which she had touched Juan Antonio's mind, and it seemed to her that she ought to be able to do something similar to physical objects. She tried to focus.

Pirate John had left three candles burning up here. One was no more than a few feet away. Elena stared at it, the slick wax dripping down onto the brass holder. A small flame but probably enough. If it would just... _come here_.

A quiet scraping startled her. It had moved. She tried again, tentatively, groping for the "muscle" in her brain that would make the candle draw towards her. Again, the round brass plate on which the candle stood scraped across the stone towards her. And again. Elena's confidence grew as she guided the candle behind her, twisting to watch its progress. At last it sat just an inch or so away from her wrists, and she turned back to face forwards.

To confront five very cautious stares.

Elena was suddenly glad nobody could speak. She held her wrists out behind her, hoping the intense heat on her wrists meant that the candle flame was near enough to burn the rope. Wincing, gritting her teeth as the pain grew, Elena started to yank her wrists apart rhythmically, and was rewarded at last with a simple, quiet tearing sound and her hands were free.

She clawed at the gag in her mouth and tore it loose, then disentangled herself from the ropes binding her legs.

With a look round at all her friends, still bound uncomfortably, Elena stretched and yawned a deep, satisfying breath.

"THAT'S so much better, I gotta say."

She smirked at the angry glares all around and then set about untying her friends.

Queries about how she'd managed to make a candle move across the floor she handled by saying "Kalibar taught me some tricks. Path of the mother, you know." Eventually the others stopped asking and started looking around their prison.

Etienne made a quick motion and led Elena and Isaac to the back of the room. Behind some crates he'd noticed an opening. The others understood and began silently moving boxes and barrels aside. Soon they'd exposed an alcove. Within sat a sort of marble box, eight feet long and about three feet across, waist-high. Situated on top of the box a human skull grinned at them.

Even more interesting than all of that, beyond the box another opening showed a flight of stairs leading up. The three looked at each other in cautious excitement. If they could just keep everything perfectly silent.

"The stars! The nine-fold stars have fallen! Awake!"

Isaac hissed, "Arrafin! Can you shut him up!"

Arrafin shook her head, dark curls going in all directions. Adil followed her everywhere and kept shouting these crazy statements. She turned to him and spoke in Naridic.

"Hush! Stop that!"

To her surprise, the elderly man immediately closed his mouth and stood silently staring at her. She smiled and put up a hand to wave at him.

"Hi."

"I am Adil. Adil al-Mula beni Nasir."

There was a moment of silence.

Arrafin looked around at the others, but nobody had anything useful to suggest. She turned back to Adil.

"Hi Adil. How are you?"

Looking more closely at the poor man, Arrafin noticed his face was covered in an incredible network of scars. It was as though he'd been shattered and put back together somehow.

"I'm tired."

For just a second he seemed completely rational. Then he smiled at her, and turned and raced off, over the edge of the room, into the grotto. They heard him splash, and a sudden thrashing punctuated by screams. Arrafin started for the edge to look down, but Nevid grabbed her, put a finger to his lips and shook his head.

Down below they heard startled voices. Standing perfectly still, only a few feet from the lip, Arrafin heard one of the pirates clearly say, "It's only Adil, getting eaten again."


----------



## Avarice

barsoomcore said:
			
		

> Down below they heard startled voices. Standing perfectly still, only a few feet from the lip, Arrafin heard one of the pirates clearly say, "It's only Adil, getting eaten again."




  

Have I reminded you lately how much I love your writing?  I very nearly ruined another keyboard (and a perfectly good Mountain Dew) reading this.


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## barsoomcore

Avarice said:
			
		

> I very nearly ruined another keyboard (and a perfectly good Mountain Dew) reading this.



 You should have seen the players' faces. Fortunately I wasn't standing right in front of anyone...


----------



## Serpenteye

I can't think of anything sufficiently clever to write right now so; *Bump*


----------



## Joshua Randall

Hey *barsoomcore* - I enjoy this story hour, but I'm having a devil of a time keeping track of all the strange family names, places, and so forth. Is there a sort of glossary somewhere that I could read?

(And if it's on a link in your .sig, would you mind posting the link here? Some of us have .sigs turned off. Thanks!)


----------



## barsoomcore

Hm. First off, JR, could you tell me which names are getting confusamated for you? I'm really really trying to deliver my exposition in media res, so if it's not getting through I'd like to make sure I improve that way.

But yeah, I'll add a link to the campaign website back in the initial thread post, just for you non-siggers. How's that?


----------



## Joshua Randall

All the family names (e.g., del Maraveiz, del Orofin). And, y'know, I even studied Spanish in high school and college, so it's not the concept of the names - it's just that without some external reference, I can't keep strait which family is the wealthy merchant family, which one is the shipbuilding family, which one is close with the royalty....

The place names. I have a very visual memory and I simply must know where things are if I am to have any hope of remembering them. Where is The Gap? Where is Saijadan? Where are the various cities that are referenced? A map would be ideal (ooh... meesa LOVE maps!), but a general description would also work. ("Cleveland, a city of the northlands, sits on the shores of a vast lake known as Erie; the river Cuyahoga bisects the city.")

*Edit*: of course, there is a nifty map on Barsoomcore's web site. Oops. That's what I get for going off half-cocked.

The names of some of the dinosaurs keep jarring me out of the story. I know those are a central element of your gameworld, but I need more background detail on how they fit into it. (Just like in a story set in the contemporary real world you couldn't toss off a sentence about dragons in the barn without raising people's eyebrows.)

Anyway, I don't want you to think I dislike the story - far from it. I am just frustrated by my inability to comprehend it better. (Of course it doens't help that I read it in fits and starts rather than all in one sitting.) It's probably my own denseness rather than any failing on your part that makes it hard for me to understand.


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## barsoomcore

Gotcha! Thanks -- I can address those sorts of issues in the story itself, I think.

Look for a little exposition in the next episode (but not until after the explosions).


----------



## barsoomcore

Elena whispered, "We're never going to shift all that stone. Not without making a whole lot of noise."

She regarded the half-Kishak lad standing next to her. Etienne had not revealed very much about himself since they first encountered him. She knew what he'd told them -- that he worked for Marques del Maraviez in Pavairelle. He was wiry and graceful, constantly studying everything around him as though a potential threat lurked in every corner.

He nodded at her comment, still examining the mass of stone that clogged the stairway they'd found leading up out of their prison. Behind them stood Isaac, Nevid and Arrafin, the Naridic girl still staring in a shocked fashion at the lip of the grotto.

The group gathered in a tight circle to discuss their options.

Isaac growled, "We're not sitting here waiting for that crazy pirate to get back."

Arrafin looked at him. "I like him. He's funny."

"Well, sure, we like him, but, you know, pirate? Dishonest?"

Etienne spoke up. "We have to get out of here. There's no way we're sitting around waiting. No way."

"Fine," said Elena, "Then we have to deal with guards downstairs. We don't even know how many there are."

Etienne eyed a coil of rope among the stored supplies.

"I have an idea."

*****

The halfbreed was heavier than he looked. Isaac suppressed a grunt of effort as he strained at the rope supporting Etienne. The half-Kishak hung upside down, far above the waters of the grotto, trying to keep from spinning as he slowly dropped past the rock face. Simultaneously trying not to think about the horrible growling sounds and shrieks that had come from the water after Adil splashed into it. As he approached the top of the dock cavern below, he signalled for a slower descent.

His head dropped below the level of the roof of the cavern that lay directly beneath where his fellow prisoners were assembled. He saw a broad warehouse-sort of space, littered with crates and boxes and coils of rope. Seated around a flaming brazier sat three rough-looking chaps whom he recognized as members of Pirate John's crew. A door sealed the room at either end, which was open along one long side to the grotto. Thick posts showed where the pirate's ship would normally be tied up.

Etienne studied carefully, estimating distances, and then signalled for Isaac and the others to pull him up.

"Okay, we're about sixty feet above the water. You go over the edge here, and there's thirty feet of rock wall and then you're hanging in front of another room like this one, only bigger. There's one door pretty much right where that one is," he pointed to the door at the far end of the room, "And another one at the opposite end. There's three guys sitting around a fire, pretty much right in the middle of the room, maybe... twenty feet in from the edge."

The others tried to picture the scene in their minds.

Nevid nodded. "The doors downstairs are closed?"

"Yep."

Nevid walked over to the door and tested it. It opened, and without a word he passed through and closed it behind him. Etienne looked at the others.

"What's he doing?"

"Don't ask us. We never know what he's doing."

Arrafin had gone and collected the skull that lay on the marble slab in the alcove and stood turning it over in her hands.

"I wonder whose skull this is and why those pirates never took it?"

"We can do all the investigating we want, Arrafin," said Isaac, "After those pirates are dealt with."

The Naridic girl smiled happily. "Really?"

Elena grinned and turned to Etienne. "They got lots of supplies down there? Crates, boxes, crap like that?"

"Yeah."

"You see any gunpowder?"

*****

Once again Etienne dangled from a rope high above the glittering waters of the grotto. Both to his right and his left, sunlight streamed in through the high cave openings on either side of the island, giving rise to endless patterns of dappled reflection along all the walls of the long tunnel.

This time, he was right-side-up, and bracing himself against the cavern wall, just above the lower cavern. He took up a bunch of slack on the rope and held the coils loosely in one hand, tying a knot where he figured the right length would be. He wasn't sure what to think about these folks, but this whole trip had turned out a lot more exciting than he'd expected. The woman Elena's ability to make candlesticks walk notwithstanding, they seemed like pretty straightforward folks.

"Wait for the explosion."

He could imagine that being able to move candles around in an environment containing gunpowder could produce an explosion pretty easily. He just hoped they didn't blow the entire cavern to smithereens.

He hung there, wondering what on earth that skinny Naridic girl was doing with the rest of them.

*****

"Okay, brace yourself."

Elena peered through a knothole in the downstairs door. She could see, across a jumbled vista of disorganized supplies, the three pirates gathered around the brazier. With greater confidence than she'd had previously, she reached out and mentally gripped a flaming brand from the brass bowl.

Ignoring the startled cries of the pirates, she lifted the brand into the air and carried it to a gunpowder barrel. The effect was everything she could have hoped for.

With a thunderous roar, the room erupted in flame and smoke and flying debris. The door crashed inward, knocking Elena back against the steps, coughing. Nevid held his crossbow up, peering into the thick smoke. He could hear yelling, so the pirates hadn't been killed outright.

Up in the grotto, Etienne leapt into the billowing cloud of smoke, hoping he'd judged the distance right, gritting his teeth as he plunged downward in a swift arc.

He didn't hit the water, but the smoke was still too dense for him to see anything as the swing started up the other side, so without any real idea as to how far from the ground he was, Etienne let go.

The instant the rope went slack, Isaac hauled it in, grabbed it where the half-Kishak had tied a knot, and, to Arrafin's horror, charged straight out over the edge.

"Some half-Kishak daredevil thinks he can outdo a Saijadani..."

*****

As the cloud began to disperse, Nevid saw Isaac. He was flying.

Clinging to the rope with one hand, clamping his hat to his head with the other, still with his omnipresent cigar clenched in his teeth, the big Saijadani swooped in from the grotto and let go, sailing through the air to crash into a mass of splintered crates.

Etienne had already drawn a longknife and was circling one pirate who kept slapping at a smouldering patch on his breeches. Nevid saw another pirate getting to his feet and fired his crossbow at the man. The bolt slammed into the man's shoulder and pitched him forward onto his face.

Isaac staggered to his feet, spinning to check his surroundings, and saw a stunned-looking fellow with major burns to his face. Which probably really stung, reflected the Saijadani, after his fist connected so solidly with the poor chap's jaw. Isaac pulled out his big sword, saw the opposite door opening and charged.

Etienne feinted forward, dropped his shoulder and when the other guy slashed at him, spun back and cut in a long arc down the man's side. He shrieked and dropped his knife and the Kishak lad kicked him hard and let him fall. He whirled to see Isaac charging the far door, and saw the barrel of the firearm a second before the Saijadani did.

Isaac sat down heavily at the impact of the ball, on the ground before he really registered what had happened. He looked down just in time to see the blood from his chest wound suddenly gush out down his shirt.

"That's gonna hurt."

Nevid, at the report of the pistol, pointed his just-reloaded crossbow at the far door and released. The bolt smashed into the doorframe, but the pirate hiding there withdrew. Etienne had gotten to the wall alongside the door and stood there motionless, watching Nevid for some sign.

Isaac groaned and collapsed. Elena swore.

"We have to get out there. He's going to die. I'm going. That bastard sticks his head out again, Nevid, you shoot him."

"What?"

Elena crouched low and ran for where Isaac lay. Etienne tried to wave her back but she paid no attention. She did pay attention when Nevid yelled, "Get down!"

There was another pistol shot, followed immediately by the heavy metal twang of Nevid's crossbow. Elena fell to her hands and knees and, feeling no terrible impact, she kept going.

As soon as the gun and the crossbow went off, Etienne wrenched open the door and grabbed the weapon away from the startled pirate standing there. So startled was he that he stood perfectly still as Etienne slipped a knife up under his ribs. He groaned quietly and fell to the ground. Etienne turned and saw Elena's ashen face look up from where she knelt next to Isaac.

"He's going to die."

*****

"Isaac? Isaac, drink this, okay? Some water for you."

Arrafin tried not to look at the wound in Isaac's chest. The others were upstairs, moving aside the blocks of stone that had blocked the stairs up there. Nobody wanted to try the waters in grotto, as they had turned out to be populated with extremely agressive and toothy predators of some indistinct type. Loud grinding sounds and occasional bursts of swearing came from above as she tried to smile at Isaac's watery eyes.

"We'll get out of here soon, Isaac. Don't worry. You have to help me investigate the skull, remember? You have to help me."

She sat next to the man, his laboured breathing setting off her nerves. Awkwardly she reached out and patted his shoulder.

"So, del Valencia, huh? From Petrahegna, is that right? It must be beautiful. Of course, I've never been so, don't know, ha ha. But I read. Poetry. You know. Can you read?"

"I can read."

Isaac's lips hadn't moved. Arrafin leaned closer, frowning.

"I can read."

Isaac also couldn't speak Naridic, as far as she knew. It occured that maybe somebody else was speaking and she turned around.

Adil, dripping wet and stark naked, stood there.

*****

They'd almost gotten the last stones pulled free when they heard her screaming.


----------



## barsoomcore

Okay, NEXT episode, exposition. I promise.


----------



## barsoomcore

Adil wasn't quite naked. Hanging around his neck on a well-worn leather thong was a strange circular pendant.

Once Arrafin recovered from her fright, and heard her friends stampeding downstairs to see what had happened, she smiled.

"Adil. You're... not dead."

He scowled and hissed at her, "That's not funny."

Arrafin's big eyes blinked and, stung by Adil's sudden scorn, she turned to Isaac and dabbed at the wounded man's forehead with a damp cloth. The others piled into the room and stopped in confusion at the sight of the old man they'd assumed had just died a horrible death.

"Hey. Didn't you just... die?"

Etienne pointed at Adil, confusion transforming into fear across his face. He turned to Elena and Nevid.

"Huh?"

Elena nodded.

"Let's get him some pants first."

*****

"Awake! The gates of Tabbadur have opened! Awake!"

"Okay, I'm starting wish he'd stayed dead."

"Etienne!"

"We need to get off this rock. We need to go now. There's a rowboat, let's go."

"We can't move Isaac."

"Leave him here. Pirate John'll take care of him."

"Etienne!"

"The ninefold stars have fallen! Tabbadur is open! Awake!"

"We've almost got those stairs cleared. Let's see what's up there. Maybe something up there can help."

*****

"That's a lot of poop."

Elena stood at the head of the newly-cleared stairwell and surveyed the top of the rocky island. Obviously a massive rookery for hundreds of dactyls, leathery wings swooped and zoomed overhead and croaking voices called out in endless imprecations. The top of the island was flat, except for a couple of projections here and there. All of which were so thoroughly covered in dactyl droppings so as to be nothing more than vague shapes, devoid of any detail.

"Wow. It's a temple."

Elena turned to frown at Arrafin. The girl HAD suffered a pretty severe shock, seeing Adil show up like that. No explanation as to how he'd survived the toothy monsters in the grotto, either, although the staggering number of scars on his body had gotten everyone's imaginations working overtime. Isaac continued to hover on the verge of death. And now Arrafin had gone insane.

Elena's frown deepened as Arrafin's spindly form plunged into the ankle-deep guano, staggering across to one of the larger lumps that rose from the surface of the island. This was a vaguely rectangular shape, about five feet in cross-section and thirty feet long. Elena followed her friend, and as they came up, Nevid and Etienne and Adil all followed.

To Elena's disgust, Arrafin started brushing away the thick deposits all over the shape, which she saw now was tapered towards one end.

"It's an obelisk. A fallen obelisk."

"What's an obelisk?"

"A tomb marker. At least, that's what they're used for... in the Narid."

"We are five hundred miles from the Narid. Across the Inner Sea."

"Yeah. Weird. And look, writing!"

Arrafin brushed more frantically at the stone, uncovering chipped letters. She traced them with her slender fingers, mouthing the words, frowning in concentration.

"It's Naridic."

They all stood silently for a second, but Etienne couldn't take it for long.

"What does it say?"

Arrafin's voice came out quiet, but somehow penetrated the endless shrieks and cries of the dactyls swarming overhead.

"_Step into Fate's whirlwind, and she will smile upon you. Walk boldy into the jaws of the banth to learn from yesterday and to shape tomorrow. When Tabbadur is opened, the nine-fold stars will fall from the sky to signal Her return. When wheel meets wheel, the past becomes clear and the future opens._"

Elena scowled, "'She?' Does that ring any bells?"

"What's Tabbadur?"

Arrafin shook her head. "I don't know... It... Something to do with... Suelekar Ben Azan."

Something twitched in her bag and she jumped, startled.

"The nine-fold stars have fallen! Awake! Awake!"

"Catch him, Etienne!"

Adil sprinted for the edge of the island, and although the half-Kishak charged after him, the old man had too great a head start and disappeared over the edge. Etienne skidded to a stop and peered over.

The old man's body cracked against rocks far, far below, and a wave came up and he disappeared. Etienne cursed and looked around.

Not far off another set of cliffs rose up out of the water, these ones topped with thick forest, vines and roots reaching out over the edge to twine into the rock.

Arrafin dumped her papers out of her bag, along with a pistol she'd picked up along the way and never loaded, an untouched jar of makeup (gift from Bel), a dozen or so quills and two jars of ink, pencils, three rolled-up maps and a sketch she'd purchased in Highpass, the Blood Council dagger they'd found in the tomb in Chimney and the skull that had been downstairs. She frowned and picked up the skull.

It was no longer made of bone -- it appeared to be formed of marble. Pure white, heavy and thick, as though someone had actually carved it. All the holes had filled up except the one at the base of the skull, so that it formed a sort of bowl or drinking vessel.

She knew what to do. She knew just what to do.

Arrafin shoved everything back into her bag, heedless of any order or organization, and without a word, raced back to the stairs and down.

Nevid and Elena looked at each other in confusion.

"Who's Suelekar Ben Azan?"

*****

Arrafin flew down the steps and rushed over to where Isaac lay, his breathing laboured and his face ashen. She dropped her bag and found a wineskin nearby. Tilting up the skin, she poured some wine into the basin formed by the upside-down skull, and then raised the skull to Isaac's lips.

"Have a drink, Isaac. Come on, it'll help you feel better. I know it."

He didn't respond.

"You told me we could do all the investigating I wanted after the pirates were taken care of, remember? You have to drink this so I can investigate. Drink it. You have to drink it."

At last his lips parted and Arrafin tilted the skull, trying to carefully pour a trickle of wine down his throat.

Isaac coughed and his eyes opened.

"Oh. That feels... unusual."

The others came rushing downstairs for the second time, only to see an amazed Isaac stand up, poking at the hole in his shirt with a finger. He looked down at Arrafin.

"What did you do to me?"

She shook her head.

"Not me. That was Suelekar Ben Azan, first king of the Narid. I think this is his skull. I think this island is his tomb."

Elena sat down on a splintered crate.

"Do you know what Tabbadur is?"

"No. I've heard the name, I think. It's got something to do with Suelekar Ben Azan -- he built it, I think. Whatever it is."

Arrafin shook her fists in frustration.

"I need a library! A university, where I can research this stuff."

"Pavairelle has a great University."

Isaac turned to Etienne.

"How are we going to get to Pavairelle, Kishak? In a rowboat?"

Etienne grinned.

"We can walk. Look," he cleared out some space around himself, grabbed a piece of charcoal and drew a horizontal line, "this is the north coast of the Inner Sea, right? Saijadan is over here, on the right, the Gap is here in the middle, and over here, on the left," he marked a dot on the left end of the line, "is Pavairelle."

He looked around to make sure his audience was following him.

"We're somewhere right around here," Etienne indicated a point just below the line, to the left of mid-way across, "And we're only a little ways from the coast. You can see it from up top. We can row over there, climb up the cliff, and walk along the coast to Pavairelle."

Arrafin frowned.

"Climb up the cliff?"

Elena frowned.

"Walk to Pavairelle? What are we going to eat? More importantly, what's going to eat us? The Gap woods are crawling with raptors. We won't get ten steps."

Isaac drew a long breath.

"I feel a lot better. Does anyone else find that really strange?"


----------



## Eyas

This is too interesting to be on page 3.


So, Bump back to the front


----------



## xrpsuzi

It's like an early Christmas gift! Excellent *tapping fingers together*


----------



## barsoomcore

At the top of cliff, Elena and Isaac pulled on the rope. They didn't exactly strain; dangling from the other end of the rope was Arrafin, who weighed considerably less than the gear either Saijadani carried around with them. For her part, the Naridic girl was loudly complaining that she didn't have access to her notebooks and thus wouldn't be able to make any observations on the different strata of bird nests on the cliff face.

Etienne and Nevid studied the forest. Back on the island, Etienne had been cocky and confident, unconcerned about Elena's "We'll be eaten by raptors" worries. But here, staring into the thick vegetation, distant cries and growls and unfamiliar plants on all sides, he suddenly felt a stab of panic. Etienne had lived his entire life in the streets and alleys of Pavairelle, greatest city of Barsoom. His idea of foraging for food consisted of inspecting the midden heaps behind restaurants.

Nevid was no less worried than the half-Kishak. Tramping through mile after mile of predator-filled forest filled him with complete terror. He was still reeling from the discovery that the skull they'd found would knit wounds together. Nobody else seemed at all concerned but Nevid was certain that skull held some sort of demonic power that would draw from them a terrible price. He would have nothing to do with it.

At last Arrafin reached the top and Isaac easily hefted her up onto the forest floor.

She stared at the tree trunks, vines, ferns and dripping leaves.

It started to rain. Again.

"Are there beaches in Pavairelle?"

*****

Trying to force their way through the tangled vegetation quickly proved pointless, and so they tramped along the cliff top, negotiating the narrow path of clear land between dizzying drop-off and impassable plant life. To their right the Inner Sea, grey and tossed with whitecaps, stretched out under equally grey, heavy-hanging clouds that kept up an unending drizzle.

The raindrops were large and soft and warm and all of the travellers were soon soaked to the bone, their boots sinking ankle-deep in the mud. They clung to tree branches to avoid slipping and tumbling off the cliff, making their way along the coast in unsteady progression.

Night came with no sign of predators or any other wildlife, and Isaac and Elena managed to hack out a small camp and construct a lean-to. Arrafin, looking even skinnier than usual now that she was drenched to the bone, was too exhausted to protest when they gave her the one cot they'd managed to construct. The others wrapped themselves in dripping blankets and huddled on the forest floor, trying to ignore rivers of mud and painfully-twisted roots sticking into their backs.

Etienne curled in on himself, wishing fervently he'd never left Pavairelle, and vowing to never set foot outside the city walls again.

*****

"Who would build a wall here?"

The group piled up behind Etienne as the half-Kishak stared down at a small rise in the mud before him. Low stones lay set there, and rose up into the forest to form what was clearly an ancient wall, now crumbling and overgrown, but still standing higher than a man.

Etienne sighted up the top of the wall and nodded.

"We can walk along the top. It's wide enough."

Isaac raised an eyebrow.

"Why would we want to? I have trouble believing this will lead us to Pavairelle."

"Don't you want to find out what this is? Aren't you curious?"

Nevid, Elena and Isaac exchanged a look.

"We've been pretty well trained to control our curiousity, you might say."

Arrafin clambered up onto the wall and casually strolled up the broken stones to the top.

"It curves up ahead. Interesting."

The Naridic girl disappeared into the forest, picking her way along the top of the wall. After a second, the rest of the group plunged after her.

The wall did indeed curve. At first they found themselves heading directly away from the cliff-edge, but as they pushed their way past more creeping vines and ducked past more overhanging branches (Isaac growing ever more annoyed with Etienne's acrobatic leaps and rolls over obstacles), the wall began to curve to their left, seeming to turn in on itself. A feeling of faint unease crawled over them all, as if this were the site of some unspeakable atrocity.

They caught up with Arrafin where she crouched, peering over the "inside" edge of the wall, down at a cleared patch of forest floor. A massive tree had fallen, leaving a gap in the close vegetation of the forest.

No more than ten or fifteen feet away stood another wall, exactly the same as the one they stood on, the two forming a curving sort of hallway through the forest. Between the two the forest lay open, revealing a floor of close-set blocks.

Etienne shrugged and leapt down, turn a somersault on the way. Issac glowered and simply jumped the eight feet straight down, ignoring the younger man and turning to help Arrafin, who insisted on inspecting the blocks.

"What on earth could this be? It's not Kishak, but look, these patterns in the rock -- do you think...?" The Naridic girl pulled out a sheaf of notepaper and, hunching over to protect the sheets from the rain, began tracing out the barely-visible patterns of etching in the stone blocks. Isaac obliging pulled aside leaves and creepers for her.

Etienne watched Arrafin's investigation for a second or two and then, bored, looked around the fallen tree.

Underneath he noticed something. The half-Kishak crouched to get a better look.

What looked like a small box lay wedged beneath the tree trunk. Etienne knelt and reached out with his right hand. He could just reach it, but it was heavier than he'd expected and didn't move when he tugged at it. He repositioned himself for a stronger grip.

Isaac noticed his scrabbling around.

"Etienne, what are you doing?"

"Just trying to reach... this... got it!"

Etienne got his hand positioned around the corner of the box and tugged. To his surprise, although the box moved, it did not come forward but instead pivoted around some hidden hinge.

It was not a box. It was a switch. Releasing a massive trap door and dumping Isaac and Arrafin into blackness below.

There was a cry of shock, a single impact as Isaac crashed into a pile of soft dirt, a squeak as Arrafin landed on Isaac and a sudden silence.

"Sorry!"

"Kishak, I'm going to make you sorry."

"What's down there?

Isaac growled. "Can't tell. It's dark."

Arrafin piped up, "I think I can hear screaming."

Elena and Nevid looked at each other and scrambled down to stand next to Etienne at the edge of the pit. They peered down into the darkness.

And then backed away as a torrent of shrieks erupted out of the pit, terror-filled and desperate, the screams of doomed men, cut off with terrible finality.

"Yep, that's screaming."

"Is that a door? Isaac, let go of me, I can walk. It's a door."

"Arrafin, don't open that door."

"It's quiet now."

"Don't open that door."

"I'll just have a look."

"Don't."

Creak.

"Oh. Hello. Was that you screaming?"

Arrafin looked up at a towering black-skinned man who stared down at her with curiously soft eyes. She smiled hesitantly, and started to wave when she realised that half of his left arm was missing, several broken knife hilts protruded from his massive torso.

She recoiled straight into Isaac, who'd drawn his sword and stood staring at the immense newcomer.

Elena hissed down to Arrafin, "See what the skull thinks of him."

Arrafin nodded and fumbled in her bag, holding up the marble skull before her.

The fact that this figure was long dead and animated through tremendous sorcery became immediately obvious to her.

"You're... undead, aren't you?"

He turned to her. "I am 34th of the Scar'ith Tushan. Once I was known as Laughter of Stones. Long have I hunted the Keyad'ar who lurks within and now I close with it. You will assist me. Come. Now. Or I will smite you where you stand."

"I'm not sure I got that. What happened to the first 33?"


----------



## barsoomcore

Isaac gripped his sword with one hand and kept Arrafin behind him with the other.

The Naridic girl had no sense. No caution. She saw something old and she wanted to look at it. She kept trying to press past Isaac and approach the terrifying apparition that led them into the caverns they'd fallen into. Her incessant questions echoed down the stone hallways where he led them.

"Are you Peranese? What are the Scar'ith Tushan? What's a Keyad'ar? How many of you are there? Can you read?"

Behind Arrafin and Isaac came Etienne, Elena and Nevid. Etienne couldn't stop staring at the big guy who'd commandeered them. He stood seven feet tall, muscles cut from what looked like solid obsidian, moving with unnerving grace and quiet. He didn't breathe. Etienne was quite sure of that -- he kept watching, waiting to see the creature's chest expand, to hear it sigh or make some unconscious noise.

Nothing. And it was wounded beyond what any man ought to be able to withstand, and yet shed no blood and seemed more or less unconcerned, even with the terrible gash in its side, the arm lopped right off and the leg that didn't flex properly. It wasn't moving too fast, but, Etienne mused, it was moving faster than he himself would be able to in similar circumstances.

Nevid kept watching behind them. They passed through what had obviously been a dining hall of some sort, tables and chairs now thrown about in wild disarray. A few Kishak bodies lay about, looking as though they had been cloven by some massive blade. Probably, he thought, stealing a glance at the huge black man's strangely curved archaic sword, THAT massive blade. He wondered if they were the previous group to have been pressed into his service

Elena noticed grimly that they appeared to be descending. The rock through which the tunnel passed dripped with moisture, slick limestone that crumbled underfoot. Somebody lived down here, for lamps burned fitfully along the walls, casting a feeble, shuddery light up and down the length of the hall.

Laughter of Stones, or 34, or whatever his name was, turned on Arrafin.

"Silence, small mortal. Enemies lie ahead."

Arrafin shut her mouth, but her eyes remained as round as ever as the big undead warrior stepped around a turn in the passage, sword held high. Isaac shook his head and yanked a pistol free with his left hand, sword clutched in his right, and with a deep breath, rounded the corner behind his spooky ally. Etienne, eager for some sort of action to distract him from his worries (and also curious to see this guy at work), rushed forward as well, leaving Elena, Nevid and Arrafin looking at each other and bracing themselves for sounds of battle.

Which sounds consisted of a sharp crack of a pistol, a curse from Isaac, and the sound of a door slamming shut.

Etienne called out, "It's safe."

Isaac grumbled, "Yeah, in that 'I've just been shot' kind of way."

Arrafin ran into the room, intending to hand the skull to Isaac, but stopped dead at the massive fresco adorning one wall.

Elena, "tsk"-ing, took the skull from Arrafin's stunned hands and knelt next to Isaac, who was bleeding from a piercing wound in his side. Nevid stayed back in the passageway. Etienne joined Arrafin in her study of the painting.

"Are those lizards or people?"

"The ones being eaten are people, I'm pretty sure. But these ones look like... lizard-people."

"They are the Keyad'ar. Long ago they nearly exterminated the human race. Thus the Three Hundred. Thus the Scar'ith Tushan. One lurks beneath us now, still unaware of my approach."

Isaac, trying to avoid not being creeped out by watching his flesh knit itself back together, jumped to his feet and gestured to either side of the chamber.

"Behind which door?"

The room was arched, and roomy enough that two people could comfortably fight a duel in it, but running two such fights side-by-side would be a little cramped. One wall peeled with the ancient fresco Arrafin continued to study, while opposite a bare wall sported only a heavy-looking wooden door. The two walls forming the other sides of the room were pierced with the opening from the passage, and a massive iron door, respectively.

The great black-skinned man pointed silently towards the wooden door. Etienne immediately moved over to the iron door and began inspecting it.

Isaac grimaced. "So those clowns who shot me are what? Its doorkeepers?"

"Yes."

"So maybe it DOES know we're here."

"They did not see me. Only you."

"Great. What are we, bait?"

"You understand the situation precisely. Go through the door."

"There's Kishaks with guns behind that door!"

"Go through."

"Fine."

Isaac sheathed his sword and took out both his pistols. He studied the wooden door for a second, then looked over at Elena.

"Open the door on my signal. Arrafin, get back."

"Huh? What?"

Elena pushed Arrafin back to the passage where Nevid cowered, drew her own sword and took up position next to the door. Etienne left off his examination of the other door, drew his knife and stood opposite Elena. Isaac glowered at him.

"You jump in there too fast, Kishak, you'll be taking one of my bullets in your backside."

He nodded to Elena, and as she threw open the door, Isaac lunged forward, stumbling down a short flight of steps, wincing at the impact of bullets against the wall behind him. Two faces appeared around a corner and he fired both pistols, grinned as he heard an impact of lead with skull and dropped to one knee. One head reappeared, ready for him with sword drawn, charging at the Saijadani who'd just expended both his firearms.

Or at least, one barrel of each.

Two more explosions and the Kishak warrior flew backwards. Isaac's smug grin vanished as he spun to face the THIRD Kishak, this one charging at him from an unseen alcove. He dropped the guns and grabbed for his sword, cursing and stumbling backwards.

Etienne launched himself from the top of the stairs head-first, both arms spread out in a perfect cross shape. He sailed down in a descending parabola, his right arm smoothly intersecting with the Kishak's throat. The charging defender's feet kept running and he lifted right up into the air as the sudden application of Etienne's weight forced the top half of him backwards. Both men hit the stone floor with a thunderous crash, but Etienne had already tucked his head in and flashed to his feet in a quick roll, shooting a manic grin at Isaac as he stood up.

They both looked down at the motionless Kishak, supine between them.

"He hit his head pretty hard."

Isaac shrugged.

"Sucks to be red."

Elena and Arrafin came down the stairs, followed by Laughter of Stones. Nevid peered down from the doorway. Their immense guide pointed around the corner the Kishaks had come from.

"This way."

The lower caverns seemed danker, and the light less regular. Isaac led the way, having reloaded his pistols, and Etienne kept close behind him, both going up to corners, peering around, and then waving the others forward. Elena considered asking if they really needed two point guards but decided to keep her counsel to herself.

Etienne felt like he was shaking all the time. Forgotten was his earlier desire to simply return to Pavairelle; this was adventure. Thrills. The only frustration was the big Saijadani guy's insistence on staying up at the front. Etienne was sure he could move much faster and quieter without the older man tucked onto his heels.

They came to a widening in the passage a sort of natural chamber, and Etienne's keen eyes caught a faint shaft of light spilling out from an archway across the wide room. He nudged Isaac to indicate the light.

"I can see it. Keep still."

Isaac rose from where he'd been crouching and studying the floor of the room. Something seemed strange. He sniffed, noted the dry, musky smell in the air.

Too late he realised Etienne had slipped from his hiding place and rushed across the room.

"Damnit!"

He rushed forward too late, as a figure appeared in the archway and raced to where Etienne approached. There was a flash of steel and the half-Kishak youth collapsed with a gurgling cry. The figure turned to Isaac and he saw it was a woman. A Lohanese woman, her slanted eyes exotic and unreadable. She held up a hand and spoke something he couldn't understand.

A tree trunk slapped him aside and he realised that Laughter of Stones had charged past. In his wake came Elena and Arrafin, and Nevid, wide-eyed, rushing behind. Isaac got to his feet and joined in the general rush. The woman made no effort to flee, instead just standing watching her enemies charge.

Elena didn't know what she was doing. Laughter had turned to them and said, "Now. Follow me." And they did.

Only they weren't as speedy as he was. By the time he'd reached the woman and was raising his sword for a wood-splitting blow, she was only half-way across the chamber. She and Arrafin and Nevid and Isaac.

So that the gigantic snake, bigger around than she was tall, was able to surge out of a dark alcove and get in between them and Laughter. Who seemed otherwise occupied.

Arrafin screamed. Or it might have been Nevid. Elena sighed.


----------



## robberbaron

Just read this from the start and I love it!
Fantastic storytelling, excellent ideas and great role-playing.

You have my admiration and my continuing attention.


----------



## barsoomcore

Giant snake. Isaac shrugged and fired both barrels of both his guns.

Which had, predictably enough, no appreciable effect. The massive reptile surged forward, muscles under its gleaming scales contracting to thrust it along. Elena managed to avoid getting side-swiped by creature, but Arrafin was not so lucky and she fell backwards with a cry as an immense coil of giant snake smacked her.

The sound of its hissing was like thunder directly overhead. Nevid's ears rang with the defeaning noise, and he backed against a rough cavern wall, hoping the creature wouldn't see him.

Somewhere on the other side of the snake their surprise ally was going toe-to-toe with some terrible monster from the beginning of time. With Etienne lying unconscious nearby. Isaac could hear shouts and a clang of steel. He swore.

The snake froze, and for a second Elena thought it would leave them alone.

It burst into a sudden whirl of coils, dust flying from the cavern floor as it looped its body around Arrafin, just trying to get up. The thin Naridic girl screamed as cool scales pressed against her on all sides and she felt her body begin to flex inwards. Her scream cut off as all the air was driven from her lungs.

Both Isaac and Elena leapt onto the snake's writhing body, chopping frantically at the gigantic reptile. A shrug of its serpentine body sent them both flying, but they scrambled back and drove their swords deep into cold flesh.

Nevid looked up, surprised to discover that the battle had rolled right past him. He now stood between the snake and the Lohanese woman fighting with Laughter of Stones. They circled one another, staring and cautious.

Something happened inside Nevid's head. Perhaps it was the terror of the massive snake, perhaps it was frustration with the unending succession of inexplicable strangeness that had surrounded him ever since leaving Fort Burnoll. Whatever it was, he'd had enough.

Nevid got to his feet. He held in front of him the wooden staff he'd rescued from the underground tomb in Chimney. Behind him Isaac and Elena were yelling to Arrafin, telling her they'd be there soon. Snake coils surged and rolled back and forth across the chamber. In front of him, a terrifying undead creature fought with a slight young woman who appeared unperturbed.

Nevid ran up and hit her in the back of head.

The only apparent effect was that she backhanded him across the face, sending him crashing to the dusty floor of the cavern. He considered his options and chose to lie there perfectly still for a while, listening to the fight between his enemy and her enemy.

Isaac and Elena both hacked at the giant snake in a frenzy of panicked desperation. The snake was almost impossible to miss and they were both strong individuals, so it didn't take long before they had inflicted serious wounds to the occupied reptile.

Arrafin kept trying to breathe in. Nothing happened. The agonizing pain in her midsection kept increasing and her vision kept darkening and as her struggles to inhale continued to accomplish nothing, her strength faded fast. She retained enough presence of mind to note that the inside of the snake's mouth was pure white, and she wondered if it wasn't perhaps related to the Solana Cottonmouth, a water snake common in southern parts of Saijadan and known for eating rats and other pests.

The pure white mouth of the snake gaped open wide and descended towards her.

Arrafin wished she could see her father and her brother once more, at least to tell them she'd found the resting place of Essermane Varag. Her father would be thrilled. She thought of calling out to Elena, to ask her to send a letter, but the last of the breath in her lungs had gone and she started to slump in the coils crushing her so gently.

Isaac saw the creature's head rise up and the mouth open, descending towards what he could see of Arrafin's hair. With a roaring curse he hurled himself onto the coils of the monster and whirled his big sword in a two-handed sideways arc. The steel sank into the open mouth, shattering needle-like teeth and sending a great cascade of blood showering down all over Arrafin.

She didn't splutter or cough. Arrafin's total lack of reaction horrified Isaac. He yelled and swung his sword again and again, driving the snake's head back.

The creature rolled over and sent the big Saijadani flying. He slammed into the cavern wall, his sword ringing against the stone. The reptile's action loosened its coils, however, and Elena yanked Arrafin free. She stood, shaking, sword in her hand, facing the wounded creature.

The snake had had enough. With another thunderous hiss it retreated back into the tunnel it had emerged from. Elena knelt next to Arrafin and brushed blood away from the girl's mouth.

"Come on, Arrafin. Come on, girl. You're okay. You'll be okay. Come on, Arrafin."

Isaac staggered over, panting, to stare wild-eyed at the limp form of his friend. Elena looked up.

"She'll be okay. But if whatsisname doesn't win THAT fight -- " she gestured to where Laughter of Stones and the Lohanese woman continued to circle near where Etienne and Nevid lay, " -- none of us are getting out of here."

It took Isaac a second, but he nodded and with a last look at Arrafin, he turned and raised his sword to approach the two remaining combatants.

Etienne woozed. He put a hand to his head and groaned. He could hear shouting and crashing and other loud noises, but he couldn't quite put together where he was or what was going on. Somebody stepped on his face and he squawked and tried to roll away, but the pressure was gone nearly as suddenly as it was applied. He opened his eyes and saw a rather pretty Lohanese woman. Etienne smiled and tried to push himself upright. The only Lohanese women he'd ever seen before were Blood Council members, but this girl was not in the trademark crimson robes. She wore some sort of dark tunic and wide trousers and held a thin, curved sword in both hands.

When he noticed the black giant squaring off against her with his strange hooked blade, Etienne recalled where he was and what was happening. He considered just lying down again and hoping it would all go away.

Then Isaac charged, bellowing as he bore down on the woman. She turned to confront him and Etienne flinched as Laughter of Stones swept up his sword in a blinding cut straight for her head. She spun to one side, threw what looked like a shower of sparks from her left hand as her right swung her sword up to knock Isaac's aside. Laughter began to burn wherever the sparks touched him and staggered back as she engaged Isaac fully, blades ringing off each other in a sudden flurry of combat. Etienne could hear the Saijadani swearing and he tried to get up.

He couldn't. Etienne frowned and looked down. Only then did he realise he was lying in a pool of his own blood and that his legs held no feeling whatsoever. There was a large knife sticking out of his right side, and now that he thought about it the pain was quite intense.

Etienne began to scream.

The sudden shrieked opened Nevid's eyes. He saw Laughter of Stones staggering, reaching for the blade he'd apparently dropped for some reason. Isaac was backpedalling away from a determined-looking young woman, whose sword blurred back and forth in rhythmic cuts that Isaac only just managed to fend off. They passed him by and, once she had her back to him, Nevid stood up again and again brained her with his staff.

This time she staggered, and with a yell Isaac lunged forward.

Nevid heard her ribcage crack. It sounded like somebody breaking a particularly fresh celery stalk. He saw the back of her tunic reach out towards him as Isaac's sword emerged from just below her shoulder blade. He was still staring as Laughter's heavy blade bit down into her skull, splitting her head open right down to her shoulders.

She dropped. A second later, so did Laughter. Elena ran past Nevid, clutching the skull in her hands as she knelt next to Etienne. She yanked the blade free and tried not to flinch as the wounds closed before her eyes. Nevid stepped back as she approached him.

"I'm not drinking from that."

"Nevid, you're hurt. It'll help you heal. Look at Etienne."

The half-Kishak stood, grinning with sudden vitality.

"I'm not drinking from that," insisted Nevid, "It's black magic. Who knows what it's doing to you?"

Elena sighed.

"Fine. But if you drop dead, I'm leaving you."

Isaac turned from the altercation and saw Arrafin getting to her feet. He ran over and then stood awkwardly, grinning.

"You okay?"

For a second Arrafin looked around wildly, then spotted her bag full of papers and notebooks.

"Oh, yeah. Fine. What would you say was the colouration of that snake? The thicker stripes were sort of a dark green, right? With orange spots along the edge."

Arrafin turned around, grabbed her notebooks and found a pencil to start jotting down her observations. Isaac watched her for a second, then shrugged and turned back to Elena.

Who was slowly backing away from Laughter of Stones.

Who was slowly becoming surrounded by a shimmering dark radiance formed of strange, translucent tendrils that seemed to weave in and around each other, and even to pass through his massive obsidian body. As Isaac, Elena and Nevid watched, the great gouges and hacks in that body reformed, the missing arm swirled into being and their ally stood up, somehow seeming bigger and more dangerous than ever before. He looked down at the corpse of the Lohanese woman and frowned.

"It didn't change. Curious."

The observing eyes widened as he knelt before the corpse and with one quick slash of his sword, opened the torso up and began rummaging around inside.

Elena had watched no small number of slaughterings in her time and for just a second she was impressed with his efficient technique. Nevid threw up. Isaac looked over to make sure Arrafin hadn't noticed yet, and sidled over to stand between the preoccupied Naridic girl and the ongoing gruesomeness as Laughter appeared determined to inspect each glistening organ inside the splayed body cavity.

"It didn't change."

Isaac ventured a question: "I thought we were after bad lizard people things. Keyamuckies or whatever."

"This is Keyad'ar. It has taken a new form. But I expected it to return to its natural form upon death. Interesting."

Etienne returned from the archway where the woman had initially emerged from. "Hey, gold! Oh, and Arrafin, there's a book."

Laughter stood up and considered Nevid.

"You are wounded. I am sorry for that."

He put a huge black hand on Nevid's head and the cut on his face quietly sealed itself back up. Only Elena noticed a similar wound simultaneously appear on Laughter's face.

"What are you?" she asked. She swallowed as ancient eyes, somehow terribly sad and tired, turned to regard her.

"Once we were men. We loved our king, Tushan Kal Kabbar. The sacrifice was his, and still we fight our ancient war. We are the Scar'ith Tushan, the Three Hundred Forsaken. Through the centuries we have hunted the great enemy. The Keyad'ar. We are the darkness that carries through to light. We are glory out of death."

"Great enemy?" Arrafin had joined them and stared open-mouthed at the giant warrior. "But we've never heard of these... Keyad'ar... before."

Laughter nodded.

"Few are left, now. And few of us remain. Still we walk the borders of the Shadow Realm and strike them down where they hide. We are the Scar'ith Tushan and we fulfill the Oath of the Forsaken."

"Tushan Kal Kabbar... How old are you?"

Elena watched Laughter smile and in that moment the idea that this creature had once been a human being seemed suddenly like the saddest thing she'd ever seen. Impulsively she put a hand on his arm, unable to say anything that could express what she was feeling but wanting to reach out anyway.

He paid no attention to the contact but kept his heavy gaze on Arrafin.

"It has been two thousand six hundred and seventy-six years since I drew a breath."

Nobody spoke. He turned back to Elena.

"Do not grieve, mortal. We took this upon ourselves. We took the Oath out of love and need. And once again it calls me."

More tendrils of darkness began to sweep up and around him.

"I must depart and walk the edges of Shadow. I can take you with me, if there is somewhere you wish to go."

"You know where Pavairelle is?"

"Stand close."

Black wind howled and savaged them. Black waves crested and broke against them. Black spears stabbed through them and black flames seared their skin. At times they were overwhelmed with sensation, at times they gasped at the sudden emptiness around them. Laughter of Stones stood in their midst, unyeilding against the horrible fury around them.

And then it was gone. They stood on cobblestones, sounds of commerce and chatter on all sides. Lanterns glowed in curtained windows overhead. Etienne looked around and grinned.

"Cherrytree Alley. We're home."

Laughter smiled.

"Thank you."

Inky tendrils reached up and seemed to suck him down into the paving stones. In the distance, they could hear drunken singing. Isaac scowled.

"I want whatever they're drinking. Kishak, let's see that gold."


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## barsoomcore

*whistles innocently*

Hey, if somebody posted a comment, this shameless

BUMP

wouldn't be so obvious. Or is that just me?


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## Serpenteye

Thank you.


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## Carnifex

barsoomcore said:
			
		

> *whistles innocently*
> 
> Hey, if somebody posted a comment, this shameless
> 
> BUMP
> 
> wouldn't be so obvious. Or is that just me?




*posts a comment*


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## barsoomcore

Collette de Maynard ran for her life. Her bootsoles skidded over rain-slick cobblestones as she careened around a corner, cursing the name of Isaac del Valencia all the way.

Why the idiot thug couldn't have left well enough alone escaped her utterly. She'd been looking at lifelong wealth, honour and security until he chopped off Juan Antonio's hot-air-filled excuse for a head. The bastard. If he'd just waited a day, the King would have signed the agreement. By the time he found out about the affair his Queen was having with Juan Antonio, the deal would already have been in place. And Collette would be on a Salejo beach, reading congratulatory letters from Pilar del Orofin. Juan Antonio's mother.

But now Pilar had turned against her.

Collette ran. Pavairelle was a big city, and she knew a lot of people here, but the del Orofin family had a long, long reach. And Pilar was plenty angry about the death of her son. If Collette hadn't read correctly the glance from Fernandez, she'd have gone straight to her room -- and been in bed when the two Kishak thugs broke in, instead of hiding on the opposite roof to see what might happen.

Paranoia. Collette cultivated it.

She raced past shuttered windows and into an alley, paused, heaving, watching carefully back the way she had come. The street glittered, empty and silent. Collette let her breathing slow down fractionally and then sprinted off again. She was sure _somebody_ was watching her.

This wasn't the first time Collette de Maynard had needed to run for her life. She grinned to herself.

It probably wouldn't be the last.

*****

The thin Naridic man held back his sobs as he pinned the scrap of paper with one hand, writing madly with the other.

_Dearest Child:

I have only a few moments to scribble these lines, and I can only hope that the Shaeric captain of the airship will deliver them to you.

Your brother is dead. The Emir's Hejani came for his students and he was shot down in his lecture hall. They have dragged his body away, I know not why.

My dearest, sweet Arrafin, my only consolation is that you are safe. All is chaos here. The al Gebel Library is burning, I can see the flames from here. The Kishaks have taken Sirhan and everyone says they will be here in a week. The Emir has gone mad -- he sees spies everywhere, especially among the intellectuals. I am afraid that I (and your brother, and you, Arrafin) are part of that group he suspects so much.

Thanks to Mullah that your mother did not live to see this!

Do not return to Al-Tizim, child, until I write to you that it is safe. I will be staying with our old friend Sarras, at his home, for the next while. With Kateb gone I can't go home.

If anything happens to me, Sarras will let you know. He will look after you if I am no more.

Go with the wind, child. I love you.

Your father,

Reyhan al Fasir beni Hassan_

Still containing himself, Reyhan folded the paper and handed it to the bold Shaeric waiting. "Take this to the del Maraviez house in Pavairelle," he said, "They will find her."

Later, sounds of violence in the streets outside, huddled with his old friend, Reyhan lost his composure. The death of his son overwhelmed him. He prayed for Arrafin.

*****

Countess del Istanzic rocked in her carriage as it spun up from the Docks to her estate in Palace District. She smiled in smug satisfaction. A deal that let her make a vast sum of money, irritate the del Maraviez, weaken King de Beliard and put the most feared mercenary company in the world in her debt was a deal to be savoured.

In a matter of days the _Sunset Hope_ would arrive, bearing its stolen cargo of del Maraviez muskets. Once the money from the Dark Talons arrived, she could have the guns shipped to them and their mutiny against King de Beliard of the Gap. The del Maraviez robbed from. The King embarrassed and destabilized. The Dark Talons grateful to her. And thousands of florins pouring into her lap.

She leaned forward and pulled aside the curtain, watching the night-time streets rattle by. The alleys seethed with dark figures. Except for the main streets, Wharf District had become choked with Naridic refugees, fleeing the advancing Kishak armies in the deserts to the south. Bodies sleeping in doorways or camped in alleys had become commonplace. A squad of Kishak soldiers stood at a corner, kicking a ragged bunch of refugees as she watched.

If tensions continued to mount here the way they seemed to be doing everywhere else, soon Pavairelle would be seeing riots and looting. The Jeddakar's troops were getting more unpopular by the day, while Prince del Viandour's favour with the citzenry grew and grew. The Countess leaned back in her cushions and wondered how she would be able to make a profit off it all.

*****

The emeralds would work. The very very old man smiled.

His was not a pleasant smile. Not the kindly smile of a loved grandfather. Not the confident smile of man who knows of what he speaks. Matai Shang's smile raised hairs on the backs of necks, made dogs growl and whine, and, quite possibly, curdled milk.

A child began to scream nearby.

Matai Shang sat, wizened and nearly helpless, perched amidst a great mechanical construct of legs and levers and spines, looking like a gigantic steel spider. Shang had not been able to walk unaided for centuries. His mind still burned with feverish intelligence, and he cackled as his schemes began to unfold.

The little girl's pleading rose high and then cut off. Blood sprayed. Unsightly minions grovelled and cringed. Shang ignored them.

The table before lay strewn with charts and calculations, and he surveyed the work with satisfaction. The emeralds would work. His calculations were indisputable. All that remained was to build the device, test it, and then use it against she who had most unwisely rebelled against him. Scars still ached within him at the memory of her treachery, even as the image of her beauty triggered blind desire.

He would possess her again. Yuek Man Chong, the Demon Goddess, would be his once more.

Shackles rattled, iron on stone. Another child was drawn forth. The stink of blood and urine filled the air.

Matai Shang, very very old, surrounded by death and pain and foulness, began planning his victory.

*****

Kimiko lowered her knife and pointed at Kendorik. The crowd shrieked in delight.

Kendorik, ever graceful, bowed to her and cleaned his rapier, turning his back on his gasping opponent. He joined his friends, the portly Captain Staznoyan and the towering Yshakan woman Mallitza, accepted their congratulations, and made his way off down the street. Kimiko Torokan, High Blood Sister of the Pavairelle Sanctuary, sheathed her wavy-bladed knife and watched the lithe, profoundly handsome man walk away.

Her face gave no sign of her inward appreciation of Kendorik's fine appearance. In her high-collared, shimmering kimono of blood-red silk, Kimiko had long since ceased to display any emotion whatsoever, as befit a member of the Blood Council. She watched Kendorik's unfortunate opponent sag, his breath shortening as the end of his life bore down upon him. Duelists' Street was as ever packed with shoppers, gossipers, drinkers, dancers, singers, tradesmen and waiters and at times it seemed like everyone in Pavairelle was here, wandering between stalls and sidewalk cafes, under the spreading cherry trees that shaded the long, curving boulevard.

Another victim of the handsome duelist's sword. Kimiko turned her icy gaze on the poor man's supporters, nodded to her attendants and strode away from the scene. The duel was over. The Blood Council was no longer needed here.


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## xrpsuzi

That was great barsoomcore. Especially "It's not easy being red."
So this demon goddess and the healing skull-might they be connected?


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## barsoomcore

First off, it's not "this demon goddess". It's "The Demon Goddess". She gets cranky. And believe you me, you do NOT want to make Yuek Man Chong cranky.

But as to connections... ah, that would be giving away too much, now, wouldn't it?


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## barsoomcore

Etienne felt a sudden sting in his fingertip. He looked down to see a tiny needle, tip glistening, extended from the lock on the cover of the book.

"Oh, crap."

Arrafin frowned as the half-Kishak collapsed. After poking him a couple of times, she looked worriedly around the room, went to the door and peered down the hall.

No one. Etienne lay motionless on the carpet. Chewing nervously on her lower lip, Arrafin made her way down the hall to where she could hear voices. The carpet under her feet grew warm as she stepped into the sunlit office where two Saijadani people were glaring at each other.

"Um. Etienne fell."

Marques and Isabella turned to look at the slight Naridic girl. Barrel-chested and dressed in Pavairelle style, with a brocade waistcoat, three-quarter cloak and soft boots with the tops turned down, Marques del Maraviez smiled warmly, lines crinkling in the corners of his eyes. Marques had come to Pavairelle twenty years previously, with the intention of simultaneously expanding the del Maraviez fortune and staying as far from Las Familias politics as possible. He had largely succeeded at both. The del Maraviez house in Pavairelle, where Arrafin now stood (and Etienne now lay), was one of the finest residences in the city, a four-story square of white marble in the Saijadani style, with an open courtyard in the center. It was also a peaceful house; the feuds and vendettas that laced the Familias in Saijadan had almost no impact on Marques here, far from the homeland.

Isabella was a different sort. Tall and thin, predatory with her dark eyes and sharp nose, Isabella del Maraviez, Marques' niece, gave very little indication of friendliness. Still in her early adulthood, Isabella had risen far in the family hierarchy, largely due to her uncanny ability to predict (and take advantage of) political shifts and trends. Her dark gown and lace collar gave her elegance but no warmth.

Marques frowned at Arrafin's words.

"Is he alright?"

"I don't know. He won't wake up. I don't think so."

Marques charged from the room and back down the hallway, shouting alternately for the doctor, his guard and Etienne. In seconds a small crowd had gathered in the library, watching the doctor attempt to revive the young man. Marques fretted. His expression cleared as Etienne groaned and the doctor rose to his feet.

"It's poison. I've administered an antidote, but he'll need bed rest for several days. How did this happen?"

Arrafin, a little intimidated by all the people around, pointed at the book. The doctor peered and nodded.

"Aha. Some sort of trap on the lock."

Marques whirled on the Naridic girl.

"What's in that book?"

"I don't know. He... Etienne was trying to open it."

One glance at the book and Marques drew his rapier, bringing the pommel down smartly on the lock. With a metallic crack the lock shattered and the book fell open.

"What the... What is that? Is that even writing?"

Arrafin studied the strange markings, her fingers drifting over the characters.

"I think it's Lohanese. I don't know for sure, though, and this, here, this looks like some kind of mathematical..."

Arrafin's voice trailed off. It WAS math. The pages were filled with formulae more complicated than anything she'd ever encountered. And Arrafin was something of an expert at math. She was better than anyone she knew, even her brother Kateb, at math. But these formulae, these calculations... they lingered just beyond her ability to understand.

Whatever this book was, nothing had ever been more important to Arrafin than to learn the secret of the mathematical truths it represented. She entirely forgot everyone else in the room, entranced by the play of familiar symbols amidst all these unknown characters. Numbers raced through complex patterns across pages and pages of dense theorems and operations.

These calculations MEANT something. Arrafin was sure of it. She had to understand this.

"Can anyone translate this?"

She was not aware of the commanding tone suddenly taking over her voice. Marques was watching the doctor and two house guards take Etienne out the door, but he turned at her question.

"Lohanese, you said? Why not take it to the Blood Council?"

Arrafin was down the hall, clutching the book to her chest and muttering to herself, before it even occcured to her to wonder if Etienne was going to be all right.

*****

_Elena:

You have never met me, but I have been your protector ever since that second night you left home. The night of your wedding.

You must believe that your departure was no accident, though neither was it by anyone's particular design. You have, through no fault of your own, become a pawn in a game in which the pieces are often casually discarded. The danger to you is great, present and I can no longer protect you. Your enemies have learned of your existence from me, and their plans depend on your destruction._

The floor was wet. Elena shuffled her boots, controlling her squeamishness at the slick, oily feel of the filthy floorboards. She knocked again, more insistently this time.

_Believe that I would not frighten you in this way had I any other option. There is a secret society spanning the world that has put into motion forces beyond your imagination. Once I myself was a member, but I fled their embrace the same moment you fled your wedding celebration. Now they have found me, and learned all that I know. I have escaped them again, but I do not flatter myself to think that I will be allowed to live much longer.

Doubtless I shall be dead by the time you read this. I wish I could advise you better. They must destroy you to prevent the fact of your existence from coming to light. Under other circumstances I might suggest approaching the Blood Council, or simply returning home to confront the situation there, but I fear they will have already moved to block those avenues to you._

The tenement building shuddered with shrieks and cries of anger, or of hunger. Children wailed. The stairs groaned with constant traffic, hollering pedlars, women swearing, and somehow the noise made the stink even worse. Elena longed for her farm, the clear water of the brook by the barrio.

Thoughts that brought her back to where she was and why.

_There is something that may help you. Your host knows of a club run by a woman from his hometown. Go there, and ask for the Mystic whom you met before. You may get some questions answered, and I hope receive some help.

I wish you good luck. I am aware of how useless that sounds.

Blood Sister Nariko Masamori_

Elena cursed the Blood Council. Whoever this Sister Masamori was, she had no right meddling like this. The idea of secret societies and vast forces made her sneer. The idea that anyone could be interested in a perfectly ordinary farm girl from New Castille was one only a fool would entertain.

She knocked again and promised herself this would be the last time.

She thought of that terrible vision, or whatever it had been, of seeing herself marrying Daniel. Herself, but not her. Plain as day, standing there at the altar, and everyone clapping. Not a dream or some fevered hallucination. She had seen herself.

There had to be an explanation. If Katir Shoran had it, then Elena decided she'd wait here all day. This was the address the club owner had given her, and Katir Shoran was the name. She'd wait here all day.

She didn't have to. The door opened and a tiny lady, crinkled and stiff with age, peered up at her with alert eyes. Without speaking the Kishak lady gestured for Elena to enter.

"Sister Masamori sent you."

Elena started as the words entered her head without sound. She nodded.

"Do not speak. Those who seek you can command the senses of beasts and the memories of vermin. A mouse will not understand what you say, but it will remember the sounds and these people could withdraw the words from the animal's mind."

The apartment was much more presentable than the conditions outside had indicated. Elena sat on a threadbare but clean sofa and watched in amazement as the old lady made her way to the kitchen, only to emerge with a plate of strange, glistening items that were evidently food of some sort. With a cautious smile, Elena took one.

"Masamori saved me from the fate our enemies have planned for you. I know what happened. You discovered that you had been replaced, is it true?"

Elena could only nod. It was a kind of cookie. It was good.

"The same with me. I was taken immediately afterwards, I know not where, to a prison where other women, women of all races, were kept. The prisoners included Saijadani, Hinsuan, Lohanese, Naridic and Kishak. But the guards were all Lohanese. Masamori was one of them. They had us raped, over and over, by men, also of all nationalities. If we became pregnant they took us out, to a comfortable room, until we'd given birth. Then we were returned to the cells. To the rape."

"You understand? They were breeding us."

Elena opened her mouth and the old woman lashed out with her cane.

"Do not speak. Now they are seeking you. Sister Masamori has hidden you but she is discovered now and you are at risk. She has asked me to help and I will."

With shaky hands the old woman removed a heavy iron pendant from around her neck. Elena reached forward to take it.

"Never take this off. While you wear it, you cannot be found by sorcery."

"There's no such thing--"

Elena winced. The cane was hard and the old woman was a lot stronger than she looked.

"You have seen what you have seen and you insist there is no sorcery? You know better than that, Elena de los Santos."

*****

Isaac had always hated formal wear. Just the idea of attending a ball was enough to make him break out in six kinds of uncomfortable sweat. But having to stand perfectly still while a bunch of strutting fools made a mockery of his appearance was something he would never have borne had it not been Isabella who'd insisted.

Though he had to admit, he was beginning to wish Marques del Maraviez was their boss. The older man seemed a sensible enough chap, and was generous enough with his brandy and cigars to earn Isaac's approval. Staying in the del Maraviez house was no great hardship.

He glared as the two bodyguards, Dominic and Vladimir, entered. Big guys, no question. And devoted to their job of protecting the man of the house, who of course followed them in.

Marques grinned.

"Isaac, you'll be the belle of the ball."

Isaac growled. Marques laughed.

"Be a good sport, son. Enjoy your youth while you have it."

The del Maraviez moved to a window and looked down at the street, smiling at Dominic as the big man moved to a flanking position. The smile remained as he pointed to the door.

"Out. All of you. No, not you, del Valencia."

When it was just Isaac and Marques, the older man sighed.

"I knew your grandfather, Isaac. We fought together against the Kishaks, with Ramon. Your grandfather, he put together the counter-espionage group, did you know that? The sneakiest, meanest, nastiest bastard I ever did meet. We were good friends."

Isaac frowned as Marques seemed to search for words.

"We fought Nevakada agents. For years. There's nothing nastier than intelligence work in wartime... "

Again the old man paused.

"They killed my son. Long ago. Now, well, Consuelo and I are too old for children now. Etienne... The boy is like a son to me, now. I..."

Isaac swallowed as Marques looked up, smiling.

"Look after him, del Valencia. I can't lose another son."

*****

"They're insane. All of them. Completely insane."

Isabella laughed. Nevid shook his head, oblivious to the startled looks of the servants. Their cold, forbidding mistress laughing? Unheard of.

"Elena thinks she has magic powers. del Valencia wants to kill every del Orofin in the world. That Arrafin girl... she's the craziest of them all."

"Magic powers?"

Nevid took a deep breath. He couldn't have Isabella thinking he was losing his mind. THEY were the crazy ones. Not him.

"I'm just not sure that being with these people is such a great idea. I don't feel like I'm contributing much to the Family."

"Listen to me very carefully, Nevid."

Isabella leaned forward and steepled her fingers, resting her elbows on the tabletop. The office seemed to grow darker, colder, as she studied the young man across the table from her.

"These people matter. They're important. Important to the Family, and important to Saijadan. I need you to stay with them. I need someone I can trust telling me what they're doing."

"But why-- "

Nevid fell silent as Isabella held up a hand. Her chair scraped on the tiles as she sat back.

"In time, Nevid. You will be a member of the Family soon. Then I can explain more. Until then, trust me."

Nevid looked up into unreadable dark eyes. He nodded.

"Yes, Isabella."


----------



## xrpsuzi

Ooooooo... Nevid down on the double cross. Why do I have the feeling he'll either end up killing Isabella or dying himself?

As for *The* Demon goddess, I made the same mistake with Zugmatoy. I kept calling her "the filthy goddess". Yeah, I didn't die too horribly.

Thanks for posting so much the last few months Barsoomcore. Very entertaining. Oh well, back to work.

-suzi


----------



## barsoomcore

suzi yee said:
			
		

> I made the same mistake with Zugmatoy. I kept calling her "the filthy goddess". Yeah, I didn't die too horribly.



Ew. At least The Demon Goddess -- clean. Pretty, even. Which, when you're dying horribly, can be important.


----------



## Avarice

Clean?  Really?  She must be a daintier feeder than I imagined...

Loved the glimpse you gave us of the BBEG, by the way, but for my money, Madame Yuek is still the spookier of the two.  Something about a woman who can be giggling like a schoolgirl one moment, and tearing someone's throat out the next just creeps me out.


----------



## barsoomcore

Avarice said:
			
		

> Loved the glimpse you gave us of the BBEG, by the way, but for my money, Madame Yuek is still the spookier of the two.



Really? You think Yuek is spookier than Arrafin?

Huh.

Wait, I didn't mean that... No, uh, I mean, spookier than... Isabella? Laughter of Stones? Collette?

Seriously, Barsoom is not a world suffering for lack of BBEGAG (Big Bad Evil Guys And Girls). Lack of heroes, well, yeah, kinda. Thank heavens there's Nevid.


----------



## Avarice

barsoomcore said:
			
		

> Really? You think Yuek is spookier than Arrafin?




Oh, definitely.  After a few more updates, though, I may have to revise my opinion.  Nothing good can come of reading that book, I tell you.  Just say 'no' to math, Arrafin!


----------



## tetsujin28

Bump, so that I don't have to keep searching for it!


----------



## barsoomcore

The inside of a Blood Council Sanctuary was not at all like Arrafin had imagined. She had thought everything would be severe, blood-red to match the famous gowns, formidable and uncompromising.

Instead, as she passed through the gate, she found herself in what looked like an elegant garden, carefully tended trees and pools with low buildings linked by graceful breezeways. A square tower with a pointed roof rose four stories towards the rear of the estate, while near at hand a wide verandah encircled what looked like the largest structure here. The girl who had opened the gate for Arrafin gestured towards this building, and, sandals crunching on gravel, the Naridic girl made her way as indicated.

"Blood Sister Torokan wishes to see this book. She is very interested to meet you, Arrafin."

Arrafin smiled. Her head whirled with questions that she tried to contain until she could meet this Blood Sister Torokan. She observed the girl leading her across the entrance yard. She was of course Lohanese, with dark, slanted eyes and black hair piled up in a tight bun on her head. The distinctive Blood Council robe, crimson and stiff and rolled like a tube, looked uncomfortable to Arrafin's eyes, complicated and fussy, but it was very beautiful. It made the Blood Council woman walk with quick, short steps. She caught Arrafin staring at her and smiled, causing the Naridic girl to blush with embarrassment and look away.

"So, Blood Sister Torokan? And you're...?"

"I am Blood Sister Kagarasa. My name is Yasami."

"Yasami. I'm Arrafin. But you know. I told you. Before."

Arrafin looked around, lips pursed.

"So this is a... Sanctuary, right? It's, um, nice."

"Watch your step."

The floors were polished, dark wood and it seemed to Arrafin that only her footsteps made any noise. Yasami seemed to glide along without making any sound whatsoever other than a faint swishing from her robe with each precise little step.

Yasami stopped them next to a portion of blank wall that had no distinguishing characteristics that Arrafin could determine. The Lohanese woman reached out and pulled the whole wall aside, and Arrafin blinked in surprise at the elegant room suddenly revealed beyond. Kneeling in the center of the room, icy and forbidding, sat another Lohanese woman, practically identical to Yasami. Arrafin tried a smile, and was encouraged to have it returned.

"I am Kimiko Torokan, High Blood Sister of the Pavairelle Sanctuary. I would like to see this book you have found, Arrafin al-Fasir beni Hassan. Come in."

"Okay."

*****

Elena found Pavairelle overwhelming. The biggest city she'd ever been to was Fort Burnoll, which was nowhere near the size of Pavairelle. As she tried to navigate her way back to the del Maraviez house from Katir Shoran's tenement, she stopped at regular intervals, trying to orient herself with what she knew of the city.

To the south lay the Inner Sea. Or, at least, the docks. Pavairelle sat at the tip of a peninsula extending southwards into the Inner Sea, so technically the sea lay on three sides of the city, but only to the south was there any access to the water. Elena currently stood in Wharf District, which lay near the docks. The city sloped up away from the docks, rising to two significant heights: Temple Hill, near the center of the city and Palace District, on the west side, away from Wharf. She could peer down a street lined with tall, leaning tenements and see Temple Hill rising in the distance. If she kept heading that way, and bore a little to her right, she ought to come across Duelists' Street, the wide boulevard that wound from the Gate (on the north side of the city) around the base of Temple Hill to peter out somewhere nearby in Wharf District. If she could find Duelists' Street she'd be okay -- the del Maraviez house was a straight line up Temple Hill from there.

Elena sighed and set off down a street that looked promising, hoping that it wouldn't suddenly turn into a dead end of opium houses and suspicious thugs. A party of red-skinned Kishak soldiers pushed past, bristling with spears and slim longswords, drawing angry glances from nearly everyone on the streets. An insult was shouted from an upstairs window but the soldiers continued on their way without looking back.

She had never seen such a multitude of races collected together. Saijadani, Pavairellean, Kishak, Naridic, Hinsuan and bright-haired folk she took to be the famous Shaeric pirate types all mingled together in an endless riot of humanity. Elena winced as she inhaled incautiously. An endless riot of stinky humanity. She fought her way to wide cross-street and looked up at a distant trumpetting call. Looked way up. 

Far above, on the end of a long slender neck, the tiny, placid head of a gargantuan sauropod drifted into view. To Elena's amazement and delight, the great beast came lumbering up the street, the ridge of its back three stories above the street. She stared in awe as the great walking mountain of dinosaur approached, people milling about its legs without fear of getting stepped on. From either side of the beast hung wooden platforms only a few steps above street level, like gargantuan saddlebags, crowded with passengers who jumped on and off as the immense creature rumbled along.

She realised it was a form of transportation and, unable to resist, clambered aboard as the creature stomped past. A young man asked her to pay a fare and once that was taken care of, she sat happily with her feet dangling over the side, watching Pavairelle drift by.

*****

Etienne opened his eyes and groaned.

"Bright light."

He knew that ceiling. That was Marques' ceiling. He was in the del Maraviez house. He wasn't dead.

"I'm not dead. What happened?"

Etienne's body had taken a series of hard knocks in the last little while: stabbed by the Keyad'ar they'd fought with Laughter of Stones, transported through some shadowy realm to Pavairelle, and then... he remembered the book, Arrafin's face and then...

He tried to sit up and his body told him not to bother.

"I'm not dead."

He tilted his head up as the door opened and a tall, broadshouldered man walked in. It took Etienne a few seconds to realise he was looking at Isaac, only instead of his trademark floppy hat and unkempt travel garments, he was wearing an expensive suit of silk and brocade, with his mustache and hair carefully groomed, his boots polished to a brilliant shine and no cigar in sight. Etienne frowned.

"Okay, maybe I'm dead. What's going on?"

Isaac scowled.

"We're going to a party. Some Countess or other is holding some shindig and Marques thinks we should go. Stupid idea, if you ask me."

"But nice suit."

Isaac's scowl deepened.

"And nobody's seen Arrafin all day. She went this morning to talk to the Blood Council about that book, and she hasn't come back yet. I'm worried. And nobody knows what's happened to Elena."

"Where's Nevid?"

"Oh. Nobody knows where he is, either."

Isaac shrugged, indicating a complete lack of interest in Nevid's whereabouts. Etienne nodded.

"Arrafin went to the Blood Council? What for?"

"Apparently the book had Lohanese writing in it. She thinks they might translate it for her."

"Yeah, if they don't turn her into a bug or something just for asking."

Isaac stared at the young Kishak for a second.

"Well, I don't know," the young Kishak protested, "Maybe they all have magic powers. You saw that one over... wherever we were. With Laughter. She had magic powers. Maybe they all do."

"Laughter said that was some sort of lizard-person thing."

"Well, she looked like a Lohanese hottie to me."

"Even while she was disembowelling you?"

Etienne grimaced at the memory.

"Yeah, okay, she was a total cow. But hot."

"We were talking about Arrafin."

The door opened and the slender Naridic girl edged in.

"Hi. Are you okay, Etienne? Marques said you might be awake by now. Hi," she waved at Isaac, not recognizing him, "I'm Arrafin."

Isaac closed his mouth and frowned, uncertain how to react. Arrafin smiled at him and crossed through the afternoon sunshine to a chair by the head of the bed where she sat and gave Etienne a once-over.

"They said it was poison. How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine. Never better. After I've thrown up a few dozen times, I'll be good as new. What happened at the Blood Council?"

"Oh. Yes. I took the book there."

Isaac sighed.

"We know, Arrafin. What did they say? What is that book all about?"

"Hi, Philip. I didn't recognize you. Why are you wearing all that? Should I call you Isaac?"

"Call me anything you like, Arrafin."

Arrafin chuckled.

"It'd be funny if I called you 'Loretta', though, wouldn't it?"

She snickered to herself for a few seconds.

"Yeah. Okay. Well, how come you're wearing... that?"

Isaac gritted his teeth.

"The Blood Council, Arrafin. What did they say?"

"Oh, yeah. It's magic. The book. It's full of magic spells. But they're _math_. You see, Kimiko, that's High Blood Sister Kimiko Torokan, actually she's really nice although those robes must be awfully uncomfortable, but I guess they get used to it. Anyway, magic."

"Magic."

"Magic."

"Yeah, magic. She says she'll have it translated for me. I'm going back tomorrow so Yasami can help me with the first part. They're all really nice."

"You're going to learn how to do magic."

"Magic."

"Exciting, huh? Where's Elena?"

*****

Elena would never admit it, but the idea of dressing up in del Maraviez-sponsored finery thrilled her. She wasn't much for having nice dresses, being far too impractical for daily wear, but the chance to dress up in something pretty and show off a little bit was making her grin to herself.

Her new outfit pleased her. Dark mahogany silk in lovely long drapes, as she twirled the ends of the skirt rose a little and then settled back down sensibly. Consuelo, Marques' elegant wife, beamed warmly.

"Oh, my dear, that does look lovely."

The older lady turned to the sewing mistress next to her and murmured, "Her shoulders are so broad -- do something about that, will you?"

As the servant nodded and bustled off, Consuelo smiled again at Elena and turned to where Arrafin regarded her new dress with much less enthusiasm than Elena. She offered a brave smile but couldn't conceal her discomfort in the fancy clothing and tugged at a sleeve. Consuelo's smile, likewise, lost some of its gloss and she turned to another servant.

"Good heavens, there's nothing to her at all. Doesn't she eat?"

To Arrafin, she spoke more loudly.

"My dear, maybe we should try fitting that again. It's just not... quite... "

Arrafin sighed and tried to think about magic. And math. And how comfortable her old desert robes were.


----------



## Desdichado

Just caught up again recently after slipping during the holidays.  Great stuff, as always!


----------



## barsoomcore

Joshua Dyal said:
			
		

> Just caught up again recently after slipping during the holidays.  Great stuff, as always!



Don't let the Stewardesses pass you by, either -- just updated them today.

And thanks for the feedback! Cheers!


----------



## Desdichado

Waitaminute...  I thought Stewardesses was done.


----------



## barsoomcore

Etienne fretted. Everyone had left the house, gone up to this ball at Count Elek dan Treuhoff's. He could hear echoing footsteps out in the hall as servants went about their duties, but all his new friends had left, dressed in borrowed finery and looking forward (or at least in Isaac's case, dreading) the chance to visit with the upper echelons of Pavairelle society.

Leaving him here alone.

In the house.

Where anyone could find him. The Whispers. The Nevakada. The Blood Council.

The "underworld" of Pavairelle was large, complicated and unpredictable. Numerous factions made deals, hid agendas and operated under multiple identities. The most fundamental division reflected the basic political division of the city: Kishak versus Pavairellean. Ever since the thirty-year-long Blockade had been ended by the peace agreement made by Prince del Viandour and the newly-restored-to-sort-of-life Tyrant's Shade of Kish, the city had grumbled under a Kishak governor with masses of troops stationed throughout the city. None of the city nobles were allowed to maintain standing armies larger than a few squads, so in true Pavairelle style they had immediately turned to the next best thing: assassins.

They were called "The Whispers". Secret clans of assassins, some tied by loyalty to noble patrons, others operating more independently, all of them constantly feuding with one another, joining only to battle the hated Nevakada, the secret police of the Kishak government. Deadly battles were fought on the rooftops and in the sewers of Pavairelle, battles Etienne had only ever caught rumours of.

But now he was tied up with these del Maraviez people. With Isaac's long-running feud with the del Orofin. With Elena's strange powers. With Nevid's weird connection to Isabella (who was, in Etienne's opinion, a complete and total bizotch). And Arrafin, talking to the Blood Council about sorcery.

The Blood Council.

Perhaps it was coincidence that just as he considered that strange organization, spanning the entire world, manned entirely by enigmatic Lohanese women in their signature crimson robes, the door to his room opened and in walked Kimiko Torokan. An enigmatic Lohanese woman in her signature crimson robe.

Etienne's mouth worked a few times. He wondered if he were about to die.

High Blood Sister Kimiko Torokan bowed minutely.

"Are you in pain, Etienne?"

Etienne's mouth opened and closed a few more times.

"No, Sister. A little queasy, a little shaky is all."

"I am pleased."

Watching the tall, elegant woman close the door behind her and approach the bed, Etienne struggled to direct his frantic thoughts.

"How could you... Won't people...?"

Torokan smiled.

"No one saw me come in, Etienne. Don't worry. There will be no talk."

"I didn't mean..."

"I know."

She settled herself and her elaborate robes in the chair beside the bed. Exactly where Arrafin had been sitting only an hour before. She leaned over and kissed him.

"Now. Tell me about this Arrafin and the book that she has. Tell me everything, my dear."

*****

Isaac sincerely wished he'd been poisoned instead of Etienne. Right now he'd been lying comfortably in bed with no worries beyond whether to lie on his right side or his left. Instead, he was walking up a carefully tended garden path to enter a party thrown by some Count he'd never heard of, dressed in the most ridiculous, uncomfortable, impractical outfit he'd every worn, looking (he was sure) every inch a complete buffoon, to socialize with a bunch of strangers he couldn't care less about.

And Marques expected him to find out about a shipment of muskets. Some muskets that might or might not have been offloaded from some unidentified ship last night. Some muskets that might or might not have been stolen from a del Maraviez ship on the other side of Saijadan several weeks ago. Isaac snorted. Right.

The house before them towered four stories high and stood imposing and well-lit against the early evening sky, lanterns hanging from all windows and banners showing sigils and heraldry unknown to Isaac. He found the del Maraviez colours, silver and blue, and not far away, the familiar del Orofin red and yellow. Isaac stiffened and nearly stumbled.

The thought that there might be del Orofin here had never occurred to him. He put his hand to the hilt of his father's sword and was suddenly glad he'd refused Marques' offer of a more stylish modern rapier. If del Orofin blood was to be spilt tonight, it would be by his father's sword.

*****

Arrafin's mind was racing through memories of mathematics classes as she and her friends approached the great house. The formulae she'd glimpsed in that book had enthralled her from the very first sight, and now, having spoken to Kimiko Torokan, knowing that they unlocked secret energies, she paid almost no attention to her surroundings. Indeed, she didn't even notice tripping on the flagstones, much less notice Elena's grip on her thin arm that kept her from falling.

There had to more to it than just math. She reviewed the strange equations in her mind. They seemed to cascade into each other, like complicated pathways to be negotiated, intellectual labyrinths to thread. She couldn't stop running what calculations she'd deciphered in her head, practicing the solutions which led to further equations which kept her engrossed until they entered the massive house, passing under a broad archway lined with uniformed guards and emerging into a three-story-high entrance hall, gilded and polished on every surface, the galleries filled with well-dressed ladies and gentlemen, Pavairellean, Saijadani, Kishak and Naridic, all bustling and murmuring and watching the new arrivals with expressions ranging from intrigued to disdainful. Quiet, stately music played from some unseen location. Brilliant chandeliers rained dazzling light down.

Arrafin's face sent dazzling light back up as she smiled, looking up around at the surrounding finery.

"Look at all the people."

Elena had locked eyes with an extremely handsome Kishak fellow, his well-muscled body clearly revealed by his outfit, the traditional leather harness and loincloth of a Kishak soldier. His red skin gleamed and his dark, deep-set eyes watched her enter the room from the upper gallery where he stood.

"Yeah, look at them all."

*****

Nevid felt more at ease here than he had at any time since joining these madmen. He nodded to the Countess Sofia, who he'd met briefly on a trade mission with Isabella years back. A portly, well-attended man with an elaborately waxed moustachio caught the young Saijadani's attention, and Nevid recognized the man as Captain Emile Staznoyan. The famous fencing master ran Staznoyan's Academy, where Pavairelleans learned the art of the fence. Many of Pavairelle's greatest duelists were former cadets. It was also well-known that the school acted as a gathering place for Pavairellean patriots opposed to the Kishak regime.

Including, Nevid realised, the slender young man standing next to Emile. Kendorik Oparashan, the city's most notorious duelist, known and feared for his sharp temper and even sharper sword. Rumour had the death toll by his hand into the dozens. With the two men stood a woman unlike any Nevid had ever seen. Yshakan, with dark skin and dramatically chiseled facial features, she stood a head taller than either of the two men, with broad shoulders and powerfully muscled arms. Nevid lifted his eyes to hers and found her looking straight at him, studying him with as much curiousity as he studied her.

There had to be drinks about somewhere. Nevid plunged into the crowd in search of something. Anything.

*****

Isaac knocked back his second drink as Nevid scrambled clear of the press of people and ordered.

"You okay, Nevid? You look a little..."

"I'm fine. Fine. Any news on Marques' cargo? I'm fine."

One Saijadani eyebrow raised as Nevid grabbed the glass from the bartender and downed it in a single swallow.

"No. Arrafin's talking to some pasty-faced fellow claims to be a publisher."

Nevid signalled for another drink.

"Uh-huh."

He sucked that one back as well.

"Steady on, lad. It could be a long night."

Nevid spun and put his back to the bar. Isaac considered the young man's frightened expression and looked up to find three people standing facing he and his friend. The portly chap with the moustache smiled and bowed and presented the young fop beside him.

"Sir," the moustache addressed Isaac, who raised both eyebrows, "My dear friend has a personal matter that requires your attention."

Isaac looked up sharply at the sudden silence that descended upon that remark. Everyone nearby had frozen and were now watching the drama (such as it was) playing out by the bar. He shrugged.

"Your dear friend is unknown to me."

"That may be, sir, but I assure you he is in earnest."

Isaac frowned.

"If you have something to say, out with it. I've got drinking to do."

"Can it be you do not understand?"

"It can."

The moustache considered.

"You have offended my friend, sir."

"Impossible."

"Do you give me the lie?"

Something about the tension around him got through to Isaac, and he looked over the annoying foreigners once again. The moustachioed fellow seemed perfectly at ease, smiling pleasantly. The fop hadn't moved and wasn't even looking at Isaac as the conversation progressed. Instead, he was whispering something to the tall Yshakan woman beside him, who seemed to be staring rather fixedly at Nevid.

He snorted.

"I have never met your friend. I know nothing about any of this. Come to the point, man. What do you want?"

The moustache twitched above a polite smile.

"I shall be frank. You have offended my friend most gravely, and he desires satisfaction. Most particularly."

"What?"

The circle of stillness around them unravelled as Marques burst in, dragging behind him an older man with lined features twisted in a condescending sneer.

"See?" Marques slapped the man on the back, ignoring his obvious disdain. "I told you he was here. This is Isaac del Valencia. Isaac, please greet Fernando del Orofin."


----------



## AIM-54

Oh, cruel fates to have finished reading through at this cliffhanger!!!

But really, I commend you barsoomcore, excellent story and I love the world.  The sauropod bus service...Excellent!!

I look forward to the next installment!


----------



## barsoomcore

"That was quick."

Etienne looked up as his friends, a little bedraggled from their party efforts, filed into the parlour. Elena frowned at him.

"What are you doing up? I thought you were poisoned."

"I got better."

Uneasy glances passed around the group. Arrafin, oblivious to all that, plopped her slight frame into an armchair and sighed, "I'm exhausted. But I did learn some very interesting things."

"Like what?"

Isaac sat nearby to listen. Arrafin pushed herself forward and gestured with her hands as she spoke.

"Okay, first of all, it turns out that Early Naridic bears a great resemblance to Calegrian. The dropped fricative in the subjunctive mode and the abandoned glottal stop both point to a relationship PRIOR to the emergence of Middle Kishak. It's possible that some of the later translations of works like The Sayings have deliberately obscured this fact to hide Calegrian hegemonic dominance in the pre-Seven period."

"Uh-huh," Isaac frowned, "What?"

Elena interrupted as Arrafin prepared to plunge into a detailed explanation on phonetic transformations.

"More importantly, Isaac's in a duel."

This time it was Etienne who frowned.

"What?"

"Well, we've been in town for, what, nearly twelve hours now?" Elena grinned, "That's more than enough time for Isaac to irritate someone into wanting to kill him."

"Hey!"

Nevid spoke up.

"With Kendorik Oparashan. Tomorrow."

Etienne just stared.

"Well, it was nice knowing you."

Marques burst into the room, chuckling as he peeled off his stiff collar.

"Wasn't that fun? I love a good party."

Isaac stood and glared at the older man. Marques took in the glare and chuckled harder.

"Come, come, lad, it'll be fun. Not everybody gets a duel with Kendorik Oparashan."

He only chuckled even harder as Etienne stood, shaking his head.

"That's because he kills everyone who does. Isaac, you can't fight this guy. He's the best swordsman in Pavairelle, probably in all Barsoom. He's killed dozens of people, hundreds. You can't fight him. He'll kill you."

Even when Isaac's glare turned into a full-blown glower, Marques couldn't stop laughing as he said, "Of course! That's the whole idea."

*****

Dawn was still far off. Etienne lay on the warehouse rooftop and peered down through the skylight at Hector. Hector Sarachez, minor kingpin reaching for more than he could handle.

Elena had provided the details, garnered from her Kishak trooper admirer. A set of crates marked with del Maraviez crests brought ashore from a vessel owned by the Countess Sara del Istanzic. Crates that just might have been the right size to hold muskets. Crates that had been loaded into this warehouse, owned by sneak and second-rate crime boss Hector, who'd hired a bunch of off-duty Kishak soldiers to guard the place.

As guards, they weren't much. Not enough to detect Etienne scrambling up the outside wall of the warehouse, creeping across the roof and finding this skylight into the space below. Hector sat at a trestle table with his booted feet up, tossing a knife and catching it.

The very picture of a man killing time. Etienne grinned, and looked up.

The others (well, Elena, Nevid and Isaac, anyway; Arrafin had elected to stay home and study her new book) crouched on a rooftop across an alleyway.

He was about to wave discreetly and signal for them to join him when something smacked his right leg.

Looking down he saw a black shaft protruding from his calf. He frowned, then gasped as the pain hit.

He started to stand up, but a wave of dizziness washed over him. He collapsed next to the skylight. Faint footfalls approached, and he could hear the soft percussion of muffled crossbows firing. An ambush. Poisoned crossbow bolts. He was rolled onto his back and looked up into a hooded Kishak face.

_Nevakada_

Etienne would have groaned if he'd been able.

*****

Elena grabbed Isaac's arm.

"Okay, wait, I'm pretty sure they're not following us anymore."

"Yeah, last time you said that I almost got shot. Keep running."

*****

"You know, Etienne's probably in trouble. He might need our help."

"He's tough. He can handle himself. Besides, this is his stupid city. Everyone here's crazy."

"Isaac, you're the only Saijadani I know who gets mad when people get him into duels. Oh, and Nevid."

"Speaking of which, how'd he get so far ahead of us?"

"Less talking. More running."

*****

"You LEFT him there?"

Arrafin stared at her friends in horror.

"You just left him there to die?"

Elena scowled.

"They probably won't kill him."

Nevid nodded, agreeing.

"Not until he's told them everything about us. Then they'll kill him. And then they'll kill us."

Arrafin threw up her hands, pacing the parlour with quick strides.

"But we can't leave him there. We have to rescue him or something."

"Arrafin, it's..."

"It's what? Dangerous? Isaac."

The big Saijadani took one look at Arrafin's dark eyes flashing with indignation and surrendered.

"Alright. Alright. We'll go get him. Right."

Arrafin snatched up her heavy pistol and the four returned to the street.

*****

The sky was just beginning to show pink as they returned to the warehouse district. The streets rustled with early-morning activity; bakers starting their ovens and parties of Kishak soldiers finishing their patrols. The four would-be rescuers hurried past dozing masses of Naridic refugees, earning angry glowers from Arrafin.

"This is disgraceful! Why aren't these people being looked after?"

"It's the war, Arrafin," answered Nevid, reasonable as always, "The Kishaks invaded the Narid and these people came here. What can anyone do?"

Arrafin growled, "They can help find decent living conditions for these people."

She thought of her father or her brother forced to live like this and clamped down on the angry denunciations that came to mind.

"Let's find Etienne."

*****

Crouched again on top of the same rooftop from which they'd watched Etienne get shot, the four lay on their stomachs, peering across the alley into the lit window below. Isaac, cursing softly to himself, paid out rope in careful measures. Through the far window they could see two Pavairelleans taking turns beating Etienne. The young half-Kishak looked barely conscious, tied to a cane chair and dripping with blood.

"Okay, I think I can tie this here and use it to swing across to that building. Elena, you follow me in. Nevid, Arrafin, you stay here and shoot anything that comes around. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Okay."

Isaac looked down the row of worried faces.

"Nevid?"

"Oh. Okay. What?"

"Never mind."


----------



## jgbrowning

*Bump for Suzi (who is too lazy to change user names)


----------



## barsoomcore

Hector had never been one for heroics. At the first spray of splinters and Saijadani muscle, he bolted for the door.

"Hold them off!" he shouted over his shoulder at the heavies. And sprinted for the stairs.

Isaac shook dust and splinters off himself and had to scramble backwards as a heavy-set thug swung his steel-tipped mace. He plowed backward into a plaster wall and ducked again, cursing and grabbing for something, anything to use as a weapon. There was another crash and another spray of splinters and Elena cannoned into the man in front of Isaac, knocking him flying. She landed adroitly on her feet and swept out her sword, spinning to face the second thug.

Suddenly free to take stock of the situation, Isaac drew his own sword and looked around. He and Elena squared off against two hulking goons in a makeshift office where Etienne sat, tied to a cane chair and drooling blood. To their rear the shattered window frame bore the evidence of their sudden and dramatic entry from across the alley. Slats from the shutters lay haphazard across the floor, cracking underfoot as the four combatants shifted position.

Elena studied the guard nearest her and nodded to Isaac.

"If we don't kill them quickly Arrafin's liable to get nervous and start shooting. I don't want to be in the field of fire when."

She lunged forward, knocking her opponent's weapon up and snapping her arm back down to score a long cut across the man's chest. Isaac and the other guard stared for a second, then leapt at each other.

Isaac parried inside and twisted, caught the big Pavairellean with a knee to the stomach and then delivered an overhand cut to the back of the man's neck as he passed. His opponent fell to the broken slats at the same moment as Elena's.

She finished her sentence.

"That happens."

Isaac looked over.

"You're getting better at this."

Elena shrugged, "Not really a fair fight," she smiled one of her rare smiles, "I'm Saijadani."

"Atta girl."

The Saijadani woman grinned and then knelt to untie Etienne. The half-Kishak groaned and spat a tooth onto the floor. Isaac peered out the remains of the windowframe and waved to Arrafin and Nevid watching from the opposite rooftop. He turned back and helped Elena get Etienne upright.

"Let's get him out of here. Can you walk, Etienne?"

"Mmmph. As long as I don't need to stand."

"We'll carry you."

"That's so sweet."

Isaac bit back sarcasm and hoisted the half-conscious Etienne across his shoulders. Elena led the way out the door and down the hall. The warehouse seemed to be deserted and they made their way downstairs and into the alley where Arrafin and Nevid were waiting. Arrafin hissed at the sight of her friend's wounds.

"Are you okay, Etienne? We came as quick as we could."

"He'll be fine. But there's no crates in that warehouse. I don't know where they are."

"I do."

All five frowned at that announcement, as they couldn't place the voice in which it had been said. Nevid's frown cleared up first as he stared past the others down the alley. Elena turned and her frown disappeared as well. Arrafin leaned to one side to look around Etienne (still dangling from Isaac's shoulders) and her eyebrows rose in surprise. Isaac, chewing ferociously on his cigar, turned slowly.

"And who in the name of all that's holy are you?"

The man standing at the entrance to alley was very very large, Isaac realised as he looked up into dark glowering eyes.

"Mario Hekanyak."

Isaac shrugged. "Sorry, pal. I don't know you."

Slung over the Saijadani's shoulder, Etienne croaked, "I do."

At the looks his friends gave him, Etienne nodded. "We're in a lot of trouble."

"Not at all." Mario came forward, flanked by half-a-dozen swaggering swordsmen who did nothing to improve Isaac's mood with their posturing and sneers. But something about the big guy made Isaac cautious, so he decided to try politeness.

"So you know what we're looking for, and you know where it is, is that right, sir?"

Mario stared, his broad face impassive. He stood with intimidating stillness.

"I have the guns."

Nevid spoke up.

"Those guns are the property of the del Maraviez family. You'll make powerful friends by returning them to Marques del Maraviez."

"My price is one hundred thousand florins. Tell Marques."

The big man turned and walked away with his entourage, leaving Isaac, Elena, Etienne, Arrafin and Nevid staring after him.

"You guys must be really tired," Etienne mumbled, "I know I am and I didn't even go to the party."

*****

"A hundred thousand florins? For our own guns?"

Marques raged on the sunlit balcony where the household assembled for breakfast.

"Sir, could you yell a little quieter? Please?"

Nevid, for his part, could barely get his voice up above the faintest whisper. He watched Elena and Isaac eating sausages and bit back a groan of nausea. No more drinking. None.

Marques slammed a heavy fist down on the table, making everyone except Arrafin jump. Arrafin was absorbed in a letter addressed to her that had arrived at the house that morning. It was a single sheet of notepaper, irregularly folded, but she had done nothing but read it over and over again since opening it.

"Damn Mario. Thinks he can put me over a barrel, does he? Thinks he can put the family, the del Maraviez over a barrel?"

_Dearest Child:

I have only a few moments to scribble these lines..._

Etienne shambled out onto the balcony and squinted at the bright morning view across tiled rooftops to where the Inner Sea sparkled.

"Ouch. Is it possible for my eyes to be tired? And just so everyone knows, I feel like I've been poisoned enough in the last forty-eight hours. If you've laced my breakfast with arsenic, I'm not going to be amused."

The wiry half-Kishak crashed into his seat and stared blankly at Arrafin for a few seconds.

"Hey. Arrafin. You okay?"

Arrafin started and looked up from the sheet of paper, her wide eyes brimming with tears. With a clatter of crockery and furniture, she ran into the house. Everyone stared for a second.

Marques spoke with sudden gentleness.

"Her family's in Al-Tizim. I suspect she's received bad news."

He stared after her for a few seconds. With a sigh he sat down.

"Mario has the guns. Very well. It's better than Hector having the guns. At least Mario's not going to cut any deals with the Nevakada."

Etienne nodded as he shovelled food into his mouth. Nevid watched for only a brief moment, then turned away, stifling a groan. Elena sat back with her coffee and listened.

"I'm more worried about the Nevakada than I am about the guns, actually. Why are they involved? Who's behind this whole operation?"

Marques glowered at the table with such force that Isaac was tempted to look underneath to see if Nevakada agents were waiting there to disrupt their breakfast.

"Alright." Marques raised his head and considered the four at the table. "Make contact with Mario. Tell him we'll deal. Meanwhile, try to find out who's behind Hector. Isaac, your duel is at noon. Are you ready?"

"Oh, yeah. Ready like I always am."

Everyone looked up as Arrafin came out onto the balcony, her shoulder straining to support the book on sorcery.

"I'm going to the Blood Council Sanctuary. Sister Yasami is helping me with the translation."

Elena eyed the girl worriedly.

"Are you okay, Arrafin?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, really. I have to go. Yasami's waiting for me."

Arrafin crossed the balcony and descended the stairs to the street. From where he sat, Isaac could see her slight form make its way up the crowded street towards Temple Hill. He recalled the sneering disdain of Kendorik Oparashan at the party. Snooty Pavairellean with his fancy clothes and shiny boots. Isaac found himself looking forward to the coming duel.

He looked up as a maid entered.

"Your pardon, Senor. A message for Senorita de los Santos."

Elena stood, confused. The maid bowed.

"The message comes from Blood Sister Masamori. It is this: Yasami is the one."

"What?"

The maid bowed again.

"Yasami is the one."

Elena paled.

"Arrafin. She's walking into a trap."


----------



## threshel

barsoomcore, this is such an excellent story.  
More please.


J


----------



## barsoomcore

Thanks, friend. I try to be somewhat regular in my updates, but I do have THREE story hours on the go. So it takes a while to make the rounds. But hang in there Stewardesses is almost done and Dead Man's Chest (the game) wrapped last weekend, so there's an end to that story in sight, as well.

I recommend (in addition to my own Story Hours) those of jonrog1, ledded, OldDrewId and JoshualDyal. All sources of great inspiration to me, and I'm sure they would be to you, too.


----------



## Desdichado

A few points of interest.  Because it's been a while since I caught up, and because I'm forgetful, I just went and cut and paste the text of the story only posts into Word so I could "read it at my leisure."  The document came to 125 pages long, although the web formatting contributed to that, I'm sure, since more traditional paragraph breaks would cut it considerably.

Still that's an awful lot of story.  I also, near the end, got the message that Word could no longer display the spelling and grammatical errors because there were too many.  

So, now when I'm done, I'll do the same for the Stewardess story hour and look for connections.  Already caught the Goddess one...


----------



## Desdichado

barsoomcore said:
			
		

> I recommend (in addition to my own Story Hours) those of jonrog1, ledded, OldDrewId and Joshual Dyal. All sources of great inspiration to me, and I'm sure they would be to you, too.



Yeah, well, I'm notorious for not finishing story hours.  I'm not so sure I'd recommend myself.  Then again, that's often because we don't finish campaigns.     

I'll have the Dark●Matter story hour _actually complete_ this week though; I only need one more update to finish it off.  Then I can start my Dark Heritages story hour and string everyone along again.

EDIT:  Dark●Matter is complete right now as we speak!  Check out the link in my sig extra quick to read a complete Story Hour!


----------



## barsoomcore

Joshua Dyal said:
			
		

> I also, near the end, got the message that Word could no longer display the spelling and grammatical errors because there were too many.



Okay, that's just mean.


			
				Joshua Dyal said:
			
		

> I'll do the same for the Stewardess story hour and look for connections.  Already caught the Goddess one...



All I'll say is that the same character is mentioned in both Story Hours. Not necessarily by the same name...

Honestly, I don't think you have enough information yet to know what the connection is. You could speculate (which would almost certainly provide me with entertainment), but I don't think the key details have yet been released.

The Stewardess game is set about a hundred to a hundred and fifty years BEFORE Barsoom Tales. That will be a key fact in determining who's who.


----------



## Desdichado

Yeah, I figured it must mention someone like the Tyrant, or Whatsisname that supposedly killed the Goddess, or something.  Still, I've only reread to the point where Elena meets with Kalimber, so I'm not exactly caught up and in a position to speculate yet...

And you can blame Bill Gates for his meanspiritedness.      Either that or all those unfamiliar words like Paraveille and Saijadan...


----------



## barsoomcore

"The Shadow Realm permeates our Living World in every dimension. The Shadow Realm is a place of nothingness, of denial and eradication. It destroys everything and creates nothing. It is the darkness beyond black, beyond the depth of the night sky."

"How do I reach it?"

Arrafin leaned forward after her question. Between she and Yasami Kagarisama lay the book they'd found in the lair of... that Lohanese woman that Laughter of Stones, he of the obsidian torso and cryptic manner of speaking, had insisted was an ancient reptilian monster. Just thinking about it made Arrafin's brain bubble with the historical implications of what she was learning.

And the math.

Yasami shook her head.

"You cannot reach it. No living thing can come into direct contact with Shadow, for it is inimical to all life. Only the soul, upon death, can traverse its infinite blackness, to cross the Buried Sea of Omean and come to the final rest that awaits us all."

"What?"

*****

Elena and Isaac pounded up the cobblestone road that led to the crest of Temple Hill. Etienne had expressed a desire to help save Arrafin from the clutches of a twisted Blood Council scheme, but he was still too woozy from the multiple poisonings he'd received. Nevid had only groaned and gone back to bed.

Temple Hill, the highest point in Pavairelle, looked down on all sides to the city where it lay spread out across the peninsula. Dactyls wheeled above red tile rooftops and slim towers, their shrill cries audible over the distant rumble of the Inner Sea. To the north the cliffs of the Gap rose high above the pounding surf, and to the south the waters reached out to the horizon, flecked with white sails here and there. The Hill was crested with a sprawling garden which housed the Temple Of Spring, where yearly rites were held. The gardens sloped down on all sides, manicured and green, rising up in a tall hedge along a stone wall that surrounded the Blood Council Sanctuary.

Most cities on Barsoom had a Blood Council Sanctuary, a mysterious compound where the enigmatic women of that organization kept their secrets and preserved their mysteries. Few others ever saw the inside of such a place, and the Blood Council representatives never answered questions about their habits or lifestyles.

Isaac and Elena stood before a tall wooden gate painted dark crimson. There was no sign of a gatekeeper or a doorman of any kind. Elena shrugged and pounded her fist on the gate. The impact echoed in the space beyond with no response. They looked at each other.

"We could climb over the wall."

Isaac glowered.

"I'm already supposed to die at noon, Elena. I see no reason to advance that schedule."

"Are you afraid of the Blood Council?"

"Absolutely."

"Fair enough."

The door opened and they both jumped back. To see a slight young girl in the trademark crimson robe of the Blood Council watching them curiously. Her dark, slanted eyes spoke of exotic lands far beyond anything Elena or Isaac had ever travelled in. She bowed.

"High Blood Sister Torokan is not receiving visitors today, I'm sorry."

She began to close the door. Elena stepped forward.

"We have to speak to our friend, Arrafin al-Fasir beni Hassan. It's very urgent."

"I'm sorry. No visitors today."

She bowed again.

"We must speak with Arrafin now."

"No."

The slight young girl showed no trace of worry or concern. Her face held no expression, no clue whatsoever. Isaac growled.

"We're coming in there after our friend, sister. Don't try to stop us."

Still she showed no sign of concern.

"You will not enter our Sanctuary. It is forbidden. You will die in the attempt, I promise you."

She looked thirteen years old. She stared at Isaac, her gaze steady. Isaac swallowed.

"Will you take her a message?"

The girl bowed.

"I would be honoured to be of service, sir."

Isaac snorted. Elena grimaced, but her voice was quiet and polite.

"Please tell our friend that sister Masamori says, 'Yasami is the one.'"

The girl stared at Elena for a couple of seconds. She flicked her gaze to Isaac and then back to Elena.

"Sister Masamori says, 'Yasami is the one.' I understand. She will receive the message."

"Do you know Masamori? Or Yasami? What's going on? This involves me, you know?"

Elena's composure began to crack. She was involved in some foul conspiracy that these supercilious foreigners were protecting. She'd been BRED, or she was going to be bred, or something. Elena put up a hand to force the door open, shouting at the girl.

"What's going on with you bitches? Why won't you talk to me? I want to know what's going on? Is Arrafin okay? Is she in there? Let us in now!"

The girl just stared. Elena's effort to push open the door accomplished nothing; the door stayed exactly where it was.

"Wait here."

She closed the door. Isaac looked over at Elena. To his shock, he saw his friend fighting back tears. He looked out over the wide expanse of the city spread out below them.

"It's pretty up here. If you like this sort of thing."

*****

"What is the soul? What do you mean?"

Arrafin scribbled frantically as Sister Yasami explained. They sat on tightly-woven straw mats set in precise order in a room almost completely bare of furnishings. A latticed window opened onto a small garden, and in one corner an irregularly glazed vase held a single cherry bough.

Yasami nodded.

"At the moment of your conception, imagine that a chord was played. A set of notes, unique to you, never before played, began then and has been sustained until now. And will sustain until your death. That is your soul. The soul is a real thing, Arrafin, that can be identified and seen. And operated upon.

"It is the normal extrusion of Shadow into the Living World. Every sentient being contains a soul, a thin twisted strand of possibility like smoke from a stick of incense. It is what gives us our sense of identity. It is that within us that carries on from moment to moment. It is the origin of memory and it is the one irreducible atom of the self.

"That is Shadow's nature. It is unchanging. Constant. As we grow, everything about us changes. Our appearance, our opinions, our abilities. And yet we retain a sense that we do not change, that we remain the same individual throughout our life. Why is this so? Because within us, each of us, we carry a vestige of Shadow that never transforms.

"Upon our death, it is that vestige that makes the final voyage about which we can know nothing until our time comes. But while we live, we can draw upon the nature of our soul to work our will upon the power of Shadow."

Arrafin looked up.

"But you said Shadow is unchanging. If it never changes, how can we act on it? Doesn't it ignore everything we do?"

"Indeed it does. One cannot change Shadow. But when Shadow comes in direct contact with the Living World, all rules are erased. For an instant, all things are possible, but if Shadow's touch is not withdrawn, all things will be annihilated. This is sorcery -- to open a door to Shadow, only to slam it shut in that same instant, and as reality is erased, to enforce one's will upon the apocalypse."

"Apocalypse? That doesn't sound so good."

"Shadow is death. To contact it, even indirectly, is to come face-to-face with nothingness. With the denial of all. I misspoke slightly -- one does not open a door. Imagine more that one peels away layers of oiled cloth sealing up a window until the faintest bit of light begins to penetrate the fibers. Shadow oozes through our souls like water seeps through loose soil. Through the workings of sorcerous formulae, our minds create patterns and enforce order upon that potential chaos. By performing these calculations in our heads, in the exact rhythm and order defined, we can cause Shadow's impact on the Living World to direct itself, to generate specific effects.

"To perform magic."

They both looked up as a portion of one wall slid aside. Arrafin hadn't yet gotten used to the doors in this place; all the walls looked identical to her but it seemed that certain portions of each were intended as doors and slid aside with a simple push. In the opening she recognized High Blood Sister Kimiko Torokan.

Torokan had first examined the book and agreed to teach Arrafin the secrets it held. She had been then, and remained now, a tall, forbidding woman of severe appearance, with a stern expression and unreadable eyes.

In other words, she was practically identical to every other Blood Sister Arrafin had ever seen.

She spoke in some language Arrafin didn't understand and Sister Yasami rose, bowed to Arrafin, and left the room. Torokan stared at Arrafin for a second.

"Please wait here, Arrafin. I will return."

She closed the door.

Arrafin sat, looking around the room, and when it became apparent that nobody was going to immediately join her, she pulled the book over to her and began comparing it with the translated notes Yasami had provided. The complex formulae fascinated her. Within seconds she was lost in trying to decipher the symbols and equations. She looked up at a sudden scream. It was repeated once, and then twice more. Arrafin couldn't tell where it was coming from, but it didn't sound very far away.

There was silence for a while. Arrafin sat perfectly still, suddenly aware that she was alone, surrounded by agents of some organization she knew nothing about, where her friends couldn't possibly find her.

"There she is. Arrafin. Are you okay?"

She looked up to find Isaac and Elena studying her from the open doorway. Sister Torokan stood behind them.

"Come with me, please."

*****

Arrafin kept throwing up. She couldn't help it. Only moments ago she'd been sitting across from Yasami, talking with her, learning from her.

Now her life spilled onto the stone floor from the stump of her neck. The stink of blood and urine filled the room.

Elena and Isaac fared only a little better. They turned, a little wild-eyed, as Torokan stood beside them.

"Yasami was the one."

Sister Yasami hung upside down, suspended from her spread ankles. Her naked body ran with glistening blood. Her head had been removed and was nowhere to be seen and blood still trailed from her gaping throat. Hooks dug into her skin.

Torokan spoke quietly.

"I have known her all my life. We studied together as children. And she has betrayed us all."

Elena shook her head in disbelief.

"You people are animals."

The tall Lohanese woman scoffed.

"You are the animals. You are the ones who live your lives in ignorance, unaware of the forces that move in the darkness. We are the humans. We are the ones who defend you against evil you cannot imagine. We are the ones who take on the burden.

"Matai Shang destroyed this woman as he has destroyed so many of our order."

"Did you have to kill her? Like this?"

"I have done this. This crime is mine. There is no power but mine."

They listened cautiously to Torokan's sing-song words. Other women had come into the circular chamber where they stood, and they repeated the High Sister's words.

"I have done this. This crime is mine. There is no power but mine."

Torokan turned to the three friends.

"Matai Shang is a sorcerer from our land who seeks control over our order. He turns us against ourselves and undermines our faith and our purpose. The Blood Council faces an internal war.

"Arrafin, your study with us is over. Learn what you can on your own. My presence is no longer safe. Do not seek help from this order, for any one of us may have been corrupted by Matai Shang.

"Elena, it is Shang who took your life from you. He perverts the secrets of the Blood Council and seeks only power for himself. We can no longer protect you. Masamori is dead this morning, found by agents of Shang."

Isaac spoke up.

"Fine. Where is this evil son of a coyote? Obviously you want us to take care of him for you, so give us the details. Where is he? How tough is he and how do we defeat him?"

Torokan lost her icy expression, bewildered by Isaac's question. Then she laughed.

"No, little man. You can do nothing. This fight is not yours. This foe is beyond you. I bring you here only to warn you to stay clear of our order. To understand the seriousness of this struggle. Leave now."

"But aren't we the good guys?"


----------



## ledded

barsoomcore said:
			
		

> Thanks, friend. I try to be somewhat regular in my updates, but I do have THREE story hours on the go. So it takes a while to make the rounds. But hang in there Stewardesses is almost done and Dead Man's Chest (the game) wrapped last weekend, so there's an end to that story in sight, as well.



And good stuff they all are, I still don't know how you keep 3 story hours up and running.



> I recommend (in addition to my own Story Hours) those of jonrog1, ledded, OldDrewId and JoshualDyal. All sources of great inspiration to me, and I'm sure they would be to you, too.



Thanks for the nod!  

Keep the good stuff coming man.


----------



## barsoomcore

For those put off by the thought of scrolling through endless pages of reader comments and so on (though I always find those part of the fun of reading Story Hours), I've compiled the first two Cantos of Barsoom Tales into text files and attached them to the first post.

We're closing in on the climax of _Make It There_, so hold on to your hats...

New post for _Dead Man's Chest_ is on its way, too. Soon. Very soon...


----------



## Desdichado

Bump for great justice.


----------



## Desdichado

barsoomcore said:
			
		

> We're closing in on the climax of _Make It There_, so hold on to your hats...



So, if I bump this again, will this rumored updated be more likely to happen soon?  

Besides, I can only bump my own story hour so many times, and jonrog1's Dark*Matter hardly needs bumps from me, so I thought my other favorite deserved some luvvin.


----------



## barsoomcore

Yeah, you know, I just got fired.

Which obviously means I have no excuse whatsoever, doesn't it?


----------



## Desdichado

I was thinking I hadn't seen you around as much as I used to the last few weeks.  Everything OK?


----------



## barsoomcore

Yeah, sure, except that I have no job. Everything's great.

Actually, it's not that I have no job. It's that everyone keeps expecting me to pay money for stuff. If they'd just drop this silly expectation and give me everything I need for free, I wouldn't need a job.

Sheesh. Do I have to do ALL the thinking around here?


----------



## Desdichado

So, reading between the lines I'd say you're not in any immediate distress...


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

I found this Barsoom link in a Dragon Magazine #305 pg 24.  Is this at all related to the world your party is adventuring in?

http://www.wishlistgames.com/barsoom/main.htm

GW


----------



## ledded

barsoomcore said:
			
		

> Yeah, sure, except that I have no job. Everything's great.
> 
> Actually, it's not that I have no job. It's that everyone keeps expecting me to pay money for stuff. If they'd just drop this silly expectation and give me everything I need for free, I wouldn't need a job.
> 
> Sheesh. Do I have to do ALL the thinking around here?



Aw man, that sucks.  I went through that last year.  Hope things work out for ya.

I know what you mean about expectations.  I only work to support my 2 worst habits, however those just happen to be Eating and Sleeping Indoors.  If I could shake those, I'd be a happy duck.

Happy to see an update whenever you get around to it.


----------



## barsoomcore

Graywolf-ELM said:
			
		

> Is this at all related to the world your party is adventuring in?



Only in the following particulars: red guys, pink skies, banths, white apes and flying ships. And the name, which is a freakin' cool name for a world. But otherwise, no. Or at least, not deliberately.

And I have to say I'm a little surprised that such a small company is legally able to create a Barsoom-branded game. Isn't the name trademarked by ERB, Inc? Well, maybe not. Huh.


----------



## barsoomcore

Isaac squinted. The bright sun beat down on Duelists' Street from a pale pink sky, and somehow he'd ended up with the south-facing side of the fight.

It didn't seem fair. He was about to get killed anyway.

A dozen or so paces from him stood the greatest swordsman in the city of Pavairelle, Kendorik Oparashan, handing his cloak to a friend and laughing with easy grace and confidence. It was obvious he had no doubt as to the outcome of this contest. Nor did any of the spectators; Isaac wasn't listening too closely, but the odds being offered were enough to make him want to bet against himself.

He looked over at Elena, watching with a worried expression. Nevid had disappeared, but Isaac could just catch sight of Etienne, talking with a couple of shopgirls who were peering over other spectators, eager for the duel to begin. Arrafin hadn't even come.

Sourly Isaac waited, his eyes darting to the tall Blood Council woman who stood motionless between himself and Kendorik. Kimiko Torokan, struggling against some foreign sorcerer in an effort to control a mysterious breeding program. Whatever.

Kendorik drew his rapier and advanced, and throughout the crowd a murmur spread. The handsome young man was famous in Pavairelle for his unbeatable skill with his sword, and dozens of lives had been lost to his quick reflexes and uncanny agility. Isaac grunted and drew his heavy hand-and-a-half sword and stood waiting.

No sense hurrying what everyone thought was inevitable.

*****

"Tushan Kal Kabbar... Yes, there are some references."

Arrafin nodded as Dean Rezhik flipped through heavy books. She'd come to Pavairelle University to research some of the things they'd learned from Laughter of Stones.

"Aha. King's Ride."

His thin voice took on a sombre quality as he read the poem out loud.

_When I ride I am a King
Wealthy and benign
I am a King when I ride
And all the Narid is my land

I am Tushan Kal Kabbar
Great among the ancients
Clearing the mighty forests
And gathering the people
Rich beyond all measure
Strong beyond all men
I am Tushan Kal Kabbar
Great among the ancients_

Arrafin looked up, confused.

"I know that tune. That's Naridic."

"Yes, it's a beni Howetait song. This is from _Desert Songs_, a collection of Howetait songs published here in Pavairelle."

"What does it mean? I've never heard of Tushan Kal Kabbar."

Dean Rezhik coughed.

"Well, the song goes on to reference Suelekar Ben Azan, and the Sharina beni Howetait. The obvious conclusion is that Tushan Kal Kabbar predates Ben Azan."

"Karidish? Dean, could the Karidish people have been black-skinned?"

The University professor shrugged, curious about the intense interest this thin Naridic girl had in ancient history.

"There are no surviving images. It's always been assumed they were racially Naridic, but there's nothing to say they might not have been Peranese. The jungles of Peran are rumoured to lie south of the Narid, and it's always been said the Peranese are black. Who can say?"

"Hm. What about Tabbadur? Did you find anything about that?"

"Oh, yes. It's mentioned numerous times, but exactly what it is is never really said. Contemporary sources seem to take it for granted that everyone knows what Tabbadur is. It was created by Suelekar Ben Azan, or at least he is variously attributed as its creator. One song, called, 'The Death of Farouk Ibn Zaoud,' starts  _When bold Ben Azan built Tabbadur / He did not build alone / For at his side, with loyal heart / Stood Farouk ibn Zaoud_. That same poem goes on to mention that Farouk died on the field at Karhoum dar Than, in the deep Eastern Desert."

Arrafin stared sightlessly for a second. Suelekar Ben Azan and Farouk Ibn Zaoud. Tabbadur. Karhoum dar Than. Names out of childhood legend. People and places it had never even occured to her might be real.

And magic. She recalled Adil and his constant shrieks.

"I think Tabbadur has opened. And I think that's a bad thing. Maybe there was something inside it that needed to stay there."

"What?"

Dean Rezhik watched in confusion as Arrafin gathered up her notes and, mumbling to herself, left his office.

*****

The first clash of steel released a noisy sigh from all around as the audience exhaled in unison. Isaac side-stepped desperately and backed away from Kendorik's flickering point.

The man deserved his reputation. He was fast, accurate and terrifying. His eyes seemed to almost roll back in his head as he pressed forward, as though he fought without sight, by some kind of instinct.

Isaac knocked aside one thrust after another, without any chance to launch an attack of his own. Kendorik came on, relentless, and some part of Isaac's brain noticed money changing hands among the spectators and realised that people weren't betting on who would win the match, but only on how long he'd manage to stay alive before Kendorik killed him.

The thought irritated the Saijadani. He put both hands on his swordhilt and smashed aside Kendorik's rapier, reaching out with a wild swing that, much to his surprise, actually connected.

Only in the barest way, and only resulting in a tiny scratch on his opponent's arm, but it was something. More money changed hands and Isaac grinned in satisfaction.

Until he realised he'd just made his opponent angry.

"You're paying for laundry and mending, Saijadani. After I've killed you."

"That's fair."

*****

Nevid frowned at the sneering Pavairellean.

"What makes Hector think we'd give him the guns, assuming we had any guns to give?"

The oily little man nodded and smiled.

"Tell the half-breed we've got his Kishak friend, Korath Tushan, and unless those guns are in our hands by midnight, we're cutting the red bastard's throat. Is that clear, Saijadani?"

"Clear enough. I'll pass on the message."

Nevid plunged back into the crowd to find Etienne.

*****

The faces around him spun as he circled away from Kendorik's gleaming sword, leaping in at him again and again.

Isaac grunted with each desperate parry, feeling himself beginning to flail as Kendorik turned up the pressure. Slowly. Isaac was beginning to realise he hadn't seen half of this man's skill. And now the sword came at him again, faster and more deadly and he parried once, twice, twisted stumbling backwards, and knowing that only because he had stable cobblestones underfoot and room to back up had he not already been skewered.

At which point the cobblestones under his feet shifted and Isaac fell flat on his back. Which gave him a bit of breathing space, as Kendorik backed off to allow him to stand. Some folks in the crowd jeered and Isaac scowled as he got to his feet.

He saluted Kendorik.

"Time to finish this."

The Pavairellean nodded.

"Exactly what I was thinking."

He lunged at Isaac, the tip of his sword floating up, then down and under Isaac's parry, rising up again to strike the Saijadani right in the chest. Isaac looked down to see the blade shorten against his chest as Kendorik thrust forward, feeling only a slight pressure there.

He looked up in surprise.

"Holy crap. You've killed me."

"That was the plan, I believe."

"Yeah, but..."

Isaac crashed down to the cobblestones, only vaguely hearing Elena's grief-stricken scream.

Marques ran out with his doctor and the two men knelt beside Isaac's crumpled form. The doctor looked up and shook his head and Marques nodded to Blood Sister Torokan.

The imperious Blood Sister raised her wavy-bladed dagger.

"Blood speaks! Blood has spoken! Blood cannot be denied!"

She pointed the dagger at Kendorik even as Marques was calling forth bearers to take Isaac's body up to the del Maraviez house. The Saijadani merchant looked across the circle to where Fernandez del Orofin stood watching. 

"Tell Pilar it's not over, old man! This boy was son of my father's friend, and I'm not afraid to follow through on his vengeance. You tell Pilar to stay out of Pavairelle."

He turned to follow Elena and the men carrying Isaac's body. Behind him, the defeated Saijadani's battered hat lay unattended on the cobblestones.


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

This was to put him in the witness protection program right?

GW


----------



## DrZombie

Thanks, very very good story hour, except that I keep on confusing the families. It might have something to do with the fact that I've been working 36 hrs straight. 
Anyway, you're Up There with Destans storyhour. 

I'm off to bed. 
Cheers.


----------



## barsoomcore

Seabirds, rousing for their night-time patrols, cried out to each other even as the dactyls sought roosts, their daylight hours ending.

Nevid peered over the low balustrade of East Harbour Road. A hundred feet directly below him lay the shipping offices of Countess del Istanzic, whose ship the Sunset Hope was one of three arrivals that might have brought the del Maraviez guns into Pavairelle. The plan was to break into the office, find the log of the Sunset Hope, and compare it against the route of the del Maraviez vessel pirated for the guns.

Nevid just wished the plan didn't include rapelling down a cliffside in full view of nearly the entire Pavairelle harbour.

The Inner Sea of Barsoom had been steadily shrinking for centuries. Five hundred years ago Pavairelle had been an island. Since then the sea level had dropped well over two hundred feet, exposing a land bridge to the mainland and dropping the water level in the harbour. Pavairelle sat atop a massive outcrop of solid rock that rose like a mountain from the coastal shallows. The harbour was in fact a vast chimney that had been carved from the undersea mountain by unknown forces long ago. It descended straight into the depths for hundreds of feet.

The result was that as the sea level dropped, the deep harbour remained navigable, but the surface of the water steadily (and slowly) dropped away from the original street level of the city. Pavairelleans, ever practical, had simply built steeply-tilting roads down to the water, carving out a shelf to serve as a quay surrounding the harbour. Long vertical tubes, wider than a man is tall, descended the cliffside, catching the outflow of the city's original sewage tunnels and carrying it beneath the newly lowered water level.

The crying of the seagulls nearly drowned out the constant rumble of that cascade. Nevid tested the rope once more, shot a look full of intense meaning at Elena and Etienne, and slung himself over the railing.

He began climbing down the rope. Up top, Elena and Etienne stood side-by-side where the rope was anchored, shielding it from the view of anyone who might pass by.

Etienne had suggested that he be the one to climb down, but Nevid's greater familiarity with the documents in question meant he was the only choice. And so the half-Kishak gritted his teeth and watched Nevid recede below him, sure that without his agility the mission was doomed.

"He's doomed."

Elena smacked her friend. "How can you say that? Nevid'll be fine."

Despite her words, Elena watched Nevid's descending form with just as much worry as Etienne. She looked up at a clatter of pikes and they both turned as a patrol of Kishak soldiers came down the road.

The leader of the patrol called a halt and eyed them suspiciously.

"What are you two doing out here?"

Elena shrugged.

"Just looking at the harbour."

The soldier opened his mouth to speak but snapped it shut as a rock dropped from above and cracked the skull of one of his soldiers. Elena and Etienne shielded themselves as a rain of heavy stones fell on the soldiers. The leader yelled and the patrol charged back up the steps, dragging two injured comrades. Above Elena and Etienne could hear a sudden, desperate struggle, clashing of steel and shrieks of dying men and women.

The streets of Pavairelle had grown hostile to Kishak patrols. The two friends simply shrugged at each other and leaned over again to check Nevid's progress.

"He's doomed."

The yelling from above came to a halt. Othe voices rose, distant and angry. The night was just beginning.

"I think we're all doomed."

*****

"Poor Philip. I mean Isaac."

Arrafin sat in Marques' parlour, a teacup in one hand. She smiled at Consuelo, who nodded sympathetically.

"Dying is hard."

They both rose as Marques entered, flanked as always by Dominic and Vladimir. He grinned broadly and winked at Arrafin.

"If you'd like to view your friend, you may. You'll want to say goodbye to Isaac del Valencia."

Arrafin followed the big Saijadani and his two big bodyguards down a short hall and into an open courtyard near the rear door of the house. Isaac sat on a low stone bench beside the well, scowling.

"Hi, Isaac. How are you?"

"I lost my hat."

"I know. Sorry. But you're not dead."

Marques chuckled, "Oh, yes he is. He just needs a new name. I think... Dominic would suit."

Arrafin stared in shock as Marques slipped a dagger from a hidden sheath under his waistcoat and slid it quietly into Dominic's ribcage. The burly strongman shuddered and sank to his knees without a word. Vlad grabbed his dying colleague and lowered him to the ground. There was a quiet groan, a brief kicking of legs and the man lay there motionless.

Arrafin closed her mouth, stepping back from Marques who glowered at his deceased bodyguard. He wiped off his knife on Dominic's coat and returned the blade to its sheath. Vlad unfolded a sheet and laid it over the body. Marques grinned, and this time in his wide, friendly smile Isaac saw something hard and unyielding that he hadn't before.

"Bastard was a Nevakada spy. I needed to get rid of him, you needed the del Orofin off your back. I'll send Dominic out of town with you lot. Means the Nevakada'll be looking for you, but they probably are anyway. The del Orofin'll be months untangling what just happened here, and you should have a free hand with them now."

Isaac couldn't think of a thing to say.

Arrafin could, however.

"You killed him."

Marques stared.

"True. The Nevakada killed my father. They killed your grandfather, too, Isaac. Time's come for the Iron Throne to pull its influence out of Pavairelle. We'll kill them all."

*****

Nevid ignored all sounds of strife and conflict as he pawed through accounts and logbooks. He snatched up one and flipped the last few pages with anything written on them and scanned the lines carefully. He mumbled to himself.

"Raised Capo Duran, two-six... "

He slid his finger down line after line reading "same" until, on the entry for the fourth day of the third week, he found "Capo Duran under by ten." He looked back up at the entry for the sixth day of the second week, five days previous, where he read again, "Raised Capo Duran."

Between the two entries, only the word "same" repeated each day.

The young Saijadani restored the office to its original condition and made his way back to where the rope dangled down from above. He looked up into the darkening sky, shook his head, and made his way to the compound gate.

*****

"I'm really, really confused. Can we go over this again?"

Nevid sighed. He rearranged the papers and looked around the room at his friends.

"The guns were manufactured in a del Maraviez factory in Cadencia. They were being shipped from there to the Narid via a ship called the Ramona. The Ramona was due in Al-Tizim more than a week ago.

"We are worried that the ship was attacked by pirates and sunk. Now we know that a cargo of guns matching that description turned up here in Pavairelle a few days ago."

Everyone seemed to be keeping up with him. Arrafin leaned forward in the pillowy armchair she'd claimed. Etienne leaned against Marques' massive desk. Isaac sat behind the desk with his boots up and Elena stood near the narrow window that opened onto the alley behind the house.

"The guns were in the possession of Hector Sarachez, a Saijadani gangster who runs part of the Wharf district."

Etienne broke in.

"Hector's small-time. He's been a flunky to Mario Hekanyak for years."

With a nod, Nevid agreed.

"How Hector got the guns was a bit of a mystery, but checking the sailing announcements revealed that Countess del Istanzic's ship the Sunset Hope had arrived from Saidaelo the day before the guns turned up with Hector.

"Investigating the Sunset Hope's log showed that it had spent five days waiting off Capo Duran in southern Salejo. Apparently just sitting there. I suspect it was waiting for the pirate vessel that took the Ramona, so that the guns could be transferred and brought here to Pavairelle.

"It seems that Hector's no longer satisfied being a flunky and has joined up with the Nevakada to move on Mario, presumably using the guns to finance the operation. Unfortunately for him, Mario found out what he was up to, and now Mario has the guns."

Isaac frowned.

"So Mario's the bad guy?"

Etienne turned to his Saijadani friend and laughed.

"You better hope not. He's the toughest gangster in Pavairelle."

Marques had entered and heard Etienne's comment. He chuckled. Isaac quickly slid his feet off the desk.

"We're all gangsters, Etienne."

Seeing Arrafin's frown, Elena patted her friend's shoulder.

"He doesn't mean you, Arrafin. You're not a gangster."

Arrafin rolled her eyes.

"But what do we do now?"

"Well, Mario's offered to sell the guns to us," began Nevid, "But that's gotten complicated. Hector has kidnapped a friend of Etienne's and threatens to kill him if we don't acquire the guns and hand them back to him."

Elena shook her head.

"Good grief. Now I'm confused, too."

"Yeah, well, let's not forget that the Nevakada are after the guns, Mario and ourselves. And that Countess del Istanzic doubtless had plans for those weapons herself."

"And that the streets are ready to explode," added Etienne, "With Kishak patrols getting attacked and Naridic refugees ready to riot all over town."

Marques nodded. He was still holding the knife he'd stabbed Dominic with in his hands.

"I should let you folks know that I've received word from the Whispers. They're in the middle of a massive purge of Kishak elite. There are assassins all over the city. No doubt the Nevakada are out as well trying to fight them off.

"Tonight is the night. Pavairelle will be free."

Isaac shrugged.

"Glad we can stay in, then. The streets must be deadly."

His casual pose stiffened as he caught sight of the grin on Marques' face.

"Oh, no. Now what?"

"Mario wants to meet with you to discuss terms. At his casino down in Wharf District. You should leave right away."

"Great."

*****

The streets WERE deadly.

Arrafin shook. Not in fear but in rage.

At the intersection ahead four Kishak soldiers were jabbing their spears into a mass of terrified people, mostly Naridic, driving them back into an alley, swearing in Kishak to each other.

Elena tugged at the slender girl's sleeve.

"Arrafin, we can't do anything about it. Come on."

The Naridic girl whirled on her friend.

"What do you know about it? Those are MY people, Elena, I can't -- "

She broke off as a sudden, louder scream came from the scene. One of the soldiers stumbled back, blood spraying from the stump of his right arm. A sudden roar erupted from the crowd and from the rear they surged forward, the ones in the front helpless to resist being impaled on Kishak spears, but the numbers of the crowd overwhelmed the soldiers and they disappeared into a snarling, shrieking mass of desperate refugees.

Screams echoed from the tenements. From other districts similar scenes evoked similar responses. In some places the mobs acquired torches and stormed Kishak positions. Or the businesses of anyone imagined to be symmpathetic to the Kishaks. Pavairelle, the Jewel of the Inner Sea, was beginning to burn.

"Come on, Arrafin. We're going to be killed if we stay here. By your people, if no one else."

Already they could hear the marching feet of Kishak reinforcements. Arrafin, sickened and horrified, turned with Elena and they fled, following Isaac, Etienne and Nevid to Mario's casino.

*****

"I smell smoke."

"The city's burning, Nevid. You can see the fires up on Temple Hill, look."

"No, I smell smoke right here."

Nevid and Etienne rounded the final corner and stopped in the street. Ahead, where Mario's casino had once stood, lay an ash-covered ruin. The massive building, a full city block across and once three stories high, was a charred skeleton, still smouldering and still giving off heat.

Isaac, Elena and Arrafin came to a halt behind them. Nevid turned to Etienne.

"How far back to Marques' house, would you say?"

"A good forty-five-minute walk."

"And of the districts in Pavairelle, this one would be..."

"... the worst."

Nevid nodded as though he'd expected that answer.

"And we've heard the Kishak regiments being called out. Which means between us and Marques' house there's now probably about... "

"Seven thousand angry Kishak soldiers. In battle with at least fifteen thousand Naridic refugees. And let's say another ten thousand Pavairellean citizens."

"Yes, let's. And let's not forget the scores of assassins on both sides scouring the rooftops for victims."

"And somewhere in this mess Hector has my best friend."

"Who happens to be a Kishak soldier. Right. So what we have to do is... "

"... Is somehow find Hector... "

"... Free your friend... "

"... Find Mario, if he's still alive... "

"... Get the most powerful crime lord in Pavairelle to tell us where the guns are... "

"... and get back to Marques' house."

"With a Kishak soldier in tow. Without getting killed."

Nevid nodded again. He shook. In fear, not rage.

"We're doomed."

"Yes, I've said so."


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

I was close, another fake killing, followed by a killing to cover it up.

GW


----------



## barsoomcore

Yeah, that was a lot of fun, that fight. Isaac was I think about fifth level, and Kendorik 18th or so, but Isaac got one natural 20 and actually hit the bugger!

Tormenting Isaac was really a serious hobby of mine (still is), so it was nice that he got a moment of minor triumph.


----------



## Desdichado

Did I mention before I really like the pseudo-Spanish names?  Where do you get them?  Do you just make stuff up that sounds kinda Spanish, or are you finding old Spanish registers of some kind, or are you looking at related languages like Catalan or Provençal to get a similar feel?


----------



## barsoomcore

For the most part I'm making them up. del Maraviez is an old barsoomcore name that I've used in a couple of campaigns -- they're always this big sprawling family of meddlers and schemers whose hearts might or might not be in the right places.

A lot of Saijadani names come from Spanish -- usually with a little twist or two. IMDB is a great resource for ethnic names.

Pavairelle names (like del Istanzic) are twists on Hungarian and Czech names, with the Spanish-sounding attributive (on Barsoom, it's Saijadani-sounding) "del".

For reference, because a couple of people have commented, here are some of the key families on Barsoom.

Among Las Familias, the powerful merchant families of Saijadan, we have

del Maraviez: wealthy, well-connected and known for their very long reach. The del Maraviez are among the chief architects of modern Saijadan and number many of the greatest heroes of the war of independence from the Kishak Empire. Our heroes work for Isabella del Maraviez but are currently attached to the staff of Marques del Maraviez. Sort of.

del Orofin: wealthy, well-connected and known for their utter ruthlessness. Crossing the del Orofin is always a bad idea. Careful readers will note our heroes have made something of a habit of that particular bad idea.

Power in Pavairelle revolves around a number of aristocratic families that own shipping fleets. Pavairelle has a near-monopoly on sea trade -- even del Maraviez ships are usually contracted from Pavairellean families. The key family of this tale has been

del Istanzic -- run by Countess Sara, this family has apparently gotten involved in piracy, using one of their ships to transport guns stolen from the del Maraviez.

Back in Bayonne we encountered King Percival de Beliard, who's not actually from any family of particular note. We may get more details on King Percival's family life in the future.

Hope that helps!


----------



## Berandor

Phew... I'm through! What can I say? Well, don't take this the wrong way, barsoomcore (and read to the end) - it's not that I don't like your Story Hour - I hate it.

Why? Well, for two main reasons:
- You defy my ability to leisurely peruse the text by leaving me hanging at every update, wanting to read more. This leads to me reading the whole text in four days.
- Now that I am through, I will have to stare blankly at this space, anticipating updates. Plus, I will probably go out and read another SH, where the above repeats itself.

In effect, you are a drug dealer, barsoomcore - and that's bad. To make you better writer in my eyes, you could
- write boring stories
- stop with interesting and distinguishable characters
- refuse to write about a detailed world
- perhaps stop updating altogether? (on second thought - please don't)



Spoiler



That is to say, I love this SH. It's really, really great! I just hope Isaac won't be recognized by his trademark scowl


...


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

I hope you don't mind if I bump this.  Not trying to rush you, just keeping it on my radar.

GW


----------



## barsoomcore

No worries. I've gotten myself a new job now, and it's not one where I can spend hours typing updates, unfortunately (what was I thinking?). But I AM working on the next bit, so it'll come eventually. Sorry, folks.


----------



## Berandor

It's my fault, isn't it?

Damn.


----------



## barsoomcore

"If I'm right about this..."

Elena interrupted Isaac.

"Which you almost never are."

"Yes, but if I am, Hector's got to be near this casino."

"You mean, near this smoking hole in the ground."

"Exactly. He'll be watching for us."

"Presumably he's already seen us, then."

"Most likely."

"So all we have to do is wait."

The five friends stood on a deserted Pavairelle street, in front of the smouldering ruins of Mario's casino. There was no sign of the crime boss who'd asked to meet them here. Etienne spoke up.

"So when he gets here, when we ought to have plan."

Elena nodded.

"I agree. Let's have a plan. Good idea, Etienne."

Arrafin looked over at the Saijadani woman.

"Can you do anything to him? Hector, I mean."

Everyone else frowned at that. Elena spoke cautiously.

"What do you mean, can I do anything?"

"You know, with... with your brain."

Frowns deepened. Elena pasted a blank smile on her face.

"I don't..."

Etienne nodded.

"Right, like with the candle. We never found out how you did that, Elena."

"It's... I don't want to talk about it."

The other four looked at each other. Sounds of bloody combat echoed in the streets around them.

Isaac spoke for the others. 

"I guess that's too bad for you. Can you do anything to him with your brain, Elena?"

ELena swallowed. She kicked at a bit of rubble, scowling.

"Not much, I can't. I can... I can confuse him, kind of. Or maybe..."

Her scowl deepened.

"Attract him."

Arrafin's eyebrows rose.

"Attract him? You mean, like...?"

"Yes. Yes. Exactly. Like..."

Hiding her grin, Arrafin held up her hands at Elena's ferocious scowl. Isaac, Nevid and Etienne did not smile. Carefully.

"I think," said Etienne, "I have a plan."

"That's a relief." Issac spat. "Here he comes."

Hector Sarachez was not a big man. He walked like a big man, however. Flanked by a trio of intimidating swordsmen, Hector strutted up where the five friends stood and stared at them with belligerent eyes. He sneered like a big man.

"So here you are. You got my guns, you punks?"

Nevid growled.

"They're our guns."

Hector turned to Etienne.

"Muzzle your puppy, it'll get kicked."

One of the big guys had locked eyes with Isaac. Etienne and Hector stared each other down. Arrafin looked over at Elena, waiting for her friend to do whatever she was going to do.

Elena sighed. With an internal effort, she focused on Hector's eyes. She could sense a line drawn between his eyes and her, a line she poured energy into, as though reaching out and turning his head to look at her.

She'd been concentrating for some time before realising that he was looking at her. In a fixed manner. Even his goons were looking concerned. She stared back at him. And with great effort forced herself to smile.

Elena didn't smile very often. She was a serious woman, with a serious demeanour. Isaac, Etienne, Arrafin and even Nevid all blinked as a warm smile spread across their friend's face, turning her from their trusted, if somewhat dour, companion into a very pretty young woman.

Hector smiled back.

"Bring her, Kishak. And yourself. Leave these clowns here. And I better be seeing my guns."

*****

"Is that your friend?"

Elena watched Etienne peer at the shape lashed to a chair. Faint light drifted in around the shuttered window, but it looked like Korath.

Hector had a hand on Elena's arm. She longed to reach over and break his fingers, but the crime boss' three thugs had increased their number by two and she didn't like the chances of she and Etienne getting an unconscious Kishak soldier out of a fourth-floor tenement past the combined weight and bad temper of five Pavairellean thugs.

Etienne nodded.

"Yeah, that's him."

Hector's hand tightened on Elena's arm.

"Now you've seen your red friend. Where are my guns?"

*****

Arrafin could scarcely contain her outrage. Nevid stood, dickering calmly with a troop of Kishak soldiers. Soldiers who'd probably been brutalizing her people in the streets earlier tonight. Soldiers he'd obviously arranged to have meet them here. She glared as Nevid came over.

"These guys serve in the Fifteenth Legion, they know Etienne's friend. Let's go."

Isaac said what Arrafin was thinking.

"Go where? With a bunch of bloodthirsty Kishak bastards? You're kidding, right?"

Nevid stared at them for a brief second.

"No, I'm not kidding. They're friends of Etienne's friend, they want him back and they'll kill Hector's thugs to get him. We follow them and leave with Elena and Etienne. Come back here, get the guns, take them to Marques' ship."

Things were happening quite a bit faster than Isaac was entirely comfortable with. He glared hard at Nevid, trying to read the calm youth who seemed to be able to pull resources out of thin air. Like a dozen angry-looking Kishak soldiers. He and Arrafin exchanged a glance.

The Naridic girl spoke.

"There's plenty of Naridic people getting hurt tonight. Why are we helping to save a Kishak?"

"Because Marques wants Etienne to help us get the guns from Mario, and Etienne won't unless his friend is safe. But we have to go now. Etienne and Elena will be killed as soon as Hector realises we don't have the guns. Elena can't just keep smiling at him forever."

*****

Somebody up on the roof whistled. Hector's eyes widened and he pushed Elena away.

"What's this? Some kind of trap? You think you can -- "

He broke off as the hall door crashed open and a couple of lean, red-skinned forms with flashing blades leapt into the room. Kishak soldiers wore no armour and almost no clothing, just a loincloth, a sword belt and sandals. Their dark red skin gleamed in the dark room as they surged forward in a disciplined wave, cutting down Hector's bodyguards with ruthless, efficient strokes. Hector looked up at square, angry faces, dark eyes glaring.

"He's over the -- "

His mouth worked a few times as he slumped to the floor, blood spraying from his gaping throat. Etienne, crouched behind the chair, slashed the ropes that bound his friend and helped the injured Kishak stand.

Elena stood back and watched the Kishak soldiers move towards their friend. Dead Pavairelleans sprawled everywhere and the stink of blood curled her lip. She turned as Isaac, Arrafin and Nevid came in, picking their way cautiously across the room. Isaac watched the Kishaks and called out to Etienne.

"Did you want to tell us what your plan was, Etienne?"


----------



## barsoomcore

What? What? I didn't hear anything.

Well, maybe there was a bit of BUMP.


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## Graywolf-ELM

How did I miss this?  When your plan deserts you, make pie.  Or is that improvise.  Is Nevid really that resourceful?

GW


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## barsoomcore

Nevid is tremendously resourceful, extraordinarily secretive and occasionally just darn lucky.

Nevid's Player: "This guy is a Kishak soldier, right? From around here, right? Same as the soldiers who are currently patrolling the streets, right?"

Me: "Uh... yeah."

NP: (passes me a note that reads) "While we're walking to the casino, I want to use Gather Information to figure out how to talk to Kishak soldiers without getting skewered, and if they're prone to rescuing comrades who've been kidnapped by these locals they hate so much."

Me: "Uh... go ahead."

NP: "Twenty-seven."

Me: (still not really clueing in to what he's up to) "No problem. And yes, they do."

NP: "Okay, here's what I do..."

I thought it was very, very clever.


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## Desdichado

Hey!  How did I miss this update?  You need an icon on this thread to help it not get lost in the shuffle.


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## Berandor

barsoomcore said:
			
		

> What? What? I didn't hear anything.
> 
> Well, maybe there was a bit of BUMP.



 You're bumping? two days without praise is too long already, eh? 

Alright, I'll read it, and then praise you tomorrow.


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## ledded

I, too, wonder how I missed this. 

You are one damn fine writer, man.  Great update.  And I agree with JD, we need like a blinking neon sign or something so I don't miss your update again.


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## Berandor

So. Read it.

I'd like to hear Etienne's plan, too.  I imagine it was a lot of fun playing the "attraction spell" out. And a very clever idea by Nevin (or his player).

So, when's the next update?


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## barsoomcore

"It's... it's almost pretty, isn't it?"

Arrafin stood next to Elena, watching Pavairelle burn in the distance. They'd gotten the guns out of the ruined Casino and on board a ship bound for the Narid, sailing out in the pre-dawn darkness as the violence suffusing the city rose in a desperate pitch of struggling factions. A detachment of Kishak soldiers had come hurtling down the wharf to where they untied and rowed out to their ship, Thuria's Dream. The captain, an elderly Shaeric fellow with no love for Kishak soldiers, had his crew rushing about getting the ship ready before they pulled alongside, and within minutes, it seemed, they were drifting out of the most famous harbour in the world, watching the Jewel of the Inner Sea burn.

Etienne hung off the stern rail. His home was burning. Marques, the Torn Curtain, the cherry trees on Duelists' Street, the city was awash in flames. He stared across dark water at the tall, steep-sided pillar of stone that Pavairelle capped, now glowing with redness and black smoke. His sour gaze drifted along to where Arrafin and Elena stood, Elena with the massive length of that great black sword leaning against the rail next to her.

"Yeah. Almost."

Nevid paid no attention to the flames. He found the captain, and with Isaac beside him, laid out the details of their voyage.

"We have on board a collection of Saijadani rifles, Captain O'Shannon."

"Aye, that ye have, lad. And they're fine weapons, too, I'll tell ye, and no mistake."

"Thank you. We are taking these weapons to the village of Hudra Keffil, a few hundred miles east of the Al-Tizim Canal Mouth. There we will exchange the weapons with Naridic fighters for gold, and head back north across the Inner Sea to Cadencia."

"Aye, that sounds simple enough. I've no charts of yer Hudra Keffil, but these waters are clear enough. A fine wind, a bit of luck, and we'll be off the Naridic coast in but a fortnight."

*****

Countess Sara del Istanzic did not weep because of the ruin of her family and her fortune.

Her house destroyed, her wealth taken, her little fleet burned at their anchors, and now the guns gone.

Smoke drifted across the harbour, obscuring her view of the sails below. Her property, overlooking the harbour on a high ridge of Temple Hill, looked as though a war had been fought on it. Dead bodies lay strewn about, but some of her guard had survived, and the sword she held limply in one hand was caked with blood.

She did not weep for the death of so many trusted men and women.

The Fifteenth Legion had mutinied and gone looting on Temple Hill. She didn't know how many had assaulted her estate, but they were many more than her small force could be expected to deal with. Her soldiers died where they stood, heaping the red bodies of Kishak warriors around them. Only an attack by another Pavairellean force distracted the Kishaks and drove them off, but not before they had torn her very house down around her and stolen everything of value there was in the building.

The streets were clogged with dead Kishak soldiers. Somebody had found the Jeddakkar, hiding in the River Palace, and hung him and his family from the arches near the Temple of Spring.

Countess del Istanzic watched the tattered sails in the harbour. The Kishaks were gone.

She wept because for the first time in her life, the Free City was truly free.

*****

"It's called the Talon of the Raven."

"I like it. Very dramatic. Why are we interested in the Raven's Talon, my vicious little child?"

"It destroys and commands the undead."

"It does?"

"Yes, Mother."

"To a considerable degree, I assume?"

"Yes, Mother."

There was a very long pause.

The two women remained perfectly still in a richly appointed bedchamber, dripping with silk and golden furnishings, massive flowers and draping curtains of lace and diamond. They were both Lohanese, though very different in appearance. The younger, submissive one wore simple dark cloth cut provocatively, and knelt with her head bowed. The other stood tall, her spectacularly elaborate gown shimmering and drifting about her, her hair piled up above her head in such baroque arrangements that it no longer resembled anything like hair. The structural engineering that had gone into her appearance was more advanced than that which had produced the massive castle where they talked.

She was Yuek Man Chong, residing in her new home of Castle Dannockshire. Where she walked, shadows hissed and whispered foul things. When she passed, hungry inhuman eyes watched, burning with lust and awe.

She smiled down at her adopted daughter, Kani Nakamura. Neither of them paid the slightest bit of attention to the young girl sprawled motionless on the massive bed, even when she cried out feebly.

"Fetch this talon for us, Kani. It will please us."

"Yes, Mother."

"And you would so love to please us, wouldn't you, my sweet little one?"

A long, bone-white finger extended, the black nail lengthened and sharpened until it was more dangerous than the talon under discussion, and reached under Kani's chin to tilt her head up.

Kani began to weep. Her mother's beauty blinded her. She had never, ever been capable of speech while looking at the perfection that was her mother.

She shut her eyes against the vision above her.

"Yes, Mother. Please, Mother. Please. Let me please you."

Yuek Man Chong laughed. She never tired of her daughter's desperation. Or of denying her daughter what the poor deranged girl wanted most.

"Go."

As Kani stumbled out, the statuesque vampire turned to the girl on the bed, who was just then trying to sit up, as though shaking off the effects of a deep sleep. The girl's eyes widened at the sight of the white figure clad in brilliant silks drifting towards her.

Kani paused once at the sound of screams from above, and went on.

When it was over, when the last hissing desperate cry of pleading anguish had died away, when even the sound of blood dripping off the gold furnishings had ceased, Yuek Man Chong stood perfectly still, her face caked with blood, staring down at what had only hours before been a beautiful young girl.

She stood there, staring, for days. She did not blink. She didn't need to. She had been dead for much longer than the girl she'd been torturing.

*****

Kimiko Torokan sat in silence. The Blood Sanctuary had not been touched, not even when the violence in the streets had risen to its highest crest. The enigma and sanctity of the Blood Council was inviolate.

Had been inviolate. Torokan concentrated, forcing herself to remember every shriek of Yasami's. Every protestation of innocence. She had done it. The crime was hers.

Torokan considered every detail of the other women at this Sanctuary. Undoubtedly more of them served Shang. Undoubtedly some that did thought they were opposing him. She knew that she herself might be serving that evil spider, the man who had taken the central truth, the ultimate purpose of the Blood Council and rendered it worthless, worse than worthless. He had made a thing of darkness out of what was meant to be humanity's greatest defense.

Her hatred rose strong in her mind, but she pushed it away. She could identify half-a-dozen obvious servants of his. There would be more.

But Arrafin, that little Naridic girl with the astonishing intelligence, who'd grasped at glance formulae it had taken Torokan months of labour to comprehend, she might prove the wedge that opened a crack in the schemes of Matai Shang. There was nothing more Torokan could do for the girl, and she knew that it more than likely that Shadow's dark fingers would kill the untutored young woman before she ever became a factor, but just knowing that somewhere out there was growing a factor Shang had never, could never, have considered, gave the Blood Sister strength.

She would continue to resist. She would fight Matai Shang to the last breath she possessed.

*****

Collette sat motionless, watching the woman across from her with complete concentration.

"My dear de Maynard, you may relax. I am not a del Orofin."

"What is it you want with me? When I'm in disgrace from Pavairelle to Petrahegna?"

The other woman smiled.

"Certainly not. Disgrace? For disrupting relations between de Beliard and the del Orofin? If you were Saijadani, I'd call you a patriot."

"Yeah, well, I'm not."

A very heavy purse landed on the table. Collette's eyes flicked down to it, and back up. The other woman laughed.

"Oh, dear, you have learned suspicion, haven't you? I've told you, I'm not a del Orofin, to stick a sword in my dinner guest."

"No," replied Collette, not relaxing one bit, "You're a del Maraviez, to slip a knife under your trusted ally's ribs."

Isabella del Maraviez leaned back, her good humour gone.

"I can tell them where you are, Collette. I don't have to offer you a thing. Pilar will pay me handsomely for your head. Or just directions to it. I advise you to take my money and listen to my offer. Several years ago, you helped to discredit a Petrahegna noble and his family."

"If this is about del Valencia, I heard he was dead. Killed by Kendorik."

"There is another del Valencia, you know. The mother."

Collette forgot to be cautious. She stared in shock at Isabella. The del Maraviez woman smiled again.

"Find Emmanuelle del Valencia, Collette. I will keep the del Orofin off your back."

*****

"You've found her?"

"Yes, Your Eminence."

The mutilated thing grovelled on bare stone. The very old man sputtered with laughter, steel limbs creaking around him.

"Assemble the slaves. We must prepare."

"Yes, Your Eminence."

Matai Shang shuddered at the thought that he would once again possess his beloved creation. The Demon Goddess. Yuek Man Chong. She would be his again. The image of her, shrieking as he toyed with her, sent him into a bubbling, gibbering parody of ecstasy.

She would know he owned her. She would remember she belonged to him.


----------



## barsoomcore

And THAT, folks, is the end of "Make It There" -- and the end of Season One of Barsoom. Next up is "Frying Pans, Fires" -- and things will begin to get very, very strange. Season Two (which is really what I want to document in this -- everything up to now has been sort of setting the stage for the REAL story) is not going to go where you think it's going to go. Trust me, it's going to get weird and distasteful on Barsoom pretty soon.

Fitting this into language suitable for Eric's Grandma may not be straightforward, but I'll do my best.

I mean, REALLY weird.

Keep in mind, that despite all the foreshadowing and background stuff you see, much of this was actually just getting invented on the fly.

Yuek Man Chong, for example, did not exist in my mind at this point in the campaign. She was only conceived of the episode before she confronts our heroes -- as a MARGIN note in another NPC's statblock. A couple of strategically played Swashbuckling cards turned my ENTIRE campaign inside out. I'll let you when you get there -- not that you'll be able to miss it.

But even I have trouble crediting the notion that Yuek Man Chong just appeared out of nowhere. Looking back now, it seems impossible that story got to this point without her. And once she arrives on the scene, well, she's a DEMANDING NPC, let's just say. She does not allow anyone, not even the DM, push her to the sidelines.

Hang on to your hats...


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## Desdichado

By the way, have you ever documented your swashbuckling cards system anywhere?  For the curious?


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## barsoomcore

Why, yes. Yes I have.

http://barsoom.hyboria.net/Swash.html

Don't say I never done nuthin fer ya.


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## Desdichado

Have I ever said that?    So, what's your plan now?  Archive all these story posts and start a new thread for the new season?  Or pile it up on top of this one?  And are we ever going to get the prequel?  I noticed your website has a "Pilot Episode" which you have not documented in a Story Hour format.


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## barsoomcore

I don't have a plans to do the earlier adventures -- there isn't much to tell, honestly.

Other than Isaac cutting off a man's head in a public duel, the sad and sorry death of Maeve the blue-haired pirate woman, Collette's ability to completely bamboozle our heroes made manifest, early manifestations of the twisted ways of Matai Shang, and the actual reason why Arrafin is with this crowd of misfits and malcontents.

So, not so much.

But heck, I've got lots more to tell with the current storyline, plus Pirates, and last week the Angels got back together to kick a whole loaf of bad guy butt, so I've got enough story hour writing to keep me occupied, thanks awfully.



I WAS planning to keep it all in this thread but I know more people join in when they see they don't have post after post to try and catch up on. Hm...


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## Desdichado

Yeah, there's a point, and I'm not sure if you're there or not yet, where it's better to start a "Chapter II" thread afresh rather than keep piling on the old thread.  A lot of the other story hours I've followed in the past have done so successfully, like drnuncheon's piratey urban adventures and the like.


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## Berandor

Great update! It really reads like a series' end, what with new events throwing their shadows on the wall while our heroes look back at what they wrought.

I'd also start a new thread for the second season - and please, start it soon


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## ledded

Loved the last update. 

And the swashbuckling cards are a hoot;  very cool stuff there.

Looking forward to Chapter II.


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## Sir Elton

Joshua Dyal said:
			
		

> Sweet!  I'm jealous, too!  I've rarely had the patience to tell a story _in media res_ without interrupting it for all kinds of background!  This is well-written and compelling.  Keep it coming!



 I don't see the big deal.  Here, I thought Barsoomcore was a writer like . . . TS Eliot.  But looking at his writing, he uses regular language, like ERB did.  But then, I guess that what makes it good.

 Barsoomcore, you're a regular joe writer, writing for the demos.  Do not ever become a writer like the one who wrote "The Great Gatsby."  I never read that book, but if the Intellectual Elite is hailing it as great, then it must be very bad.  flowery prose as all get out might win points for them, but the demos wants something they'd enjoy.

 Keep it up!


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## Warrior Poet

Sir Elton said:
			
		

> Do not ever become a writer like the one who wrote "The Great Gatsby."  I never read that book, but if the Intellectual Elite is hailing it as great, then it must be very bad.  flowery prose as all get out might win points for them, but the demos wants something they'd enjoy.




You might enjoy _The Great Gatsby_, actually.  There's a lot going on in it, but "flowery prose as all get out" isn't one of them, I'd say.  The language is a little dated (it was published in 1925), but flowery . . . nah, that's not how I'd describe it.  It's actually got some interesting stuff going on:  deception, betrayal, class conflict, sex (not terribly explicit by today's standards, you understand), boozing, cool cars, the decadence of excessive wealth, corruption, murder . . . .  

On the other hand, it is a tragic story of love and loss, so if that's not your style either, then I'd stay away, definitely.  

All of which is odd, because I'm not a big fan of the book, myself.  And it's partly because I don't like Fitzgerald's style of writing much.  So, maybe I have no idea what I'm talking about.

barsoomcore, I finally got caught up in through the text files you posted at the beginning.  Excellent stuff!  Can't wait to read more.

Thanks,

Warrior Poet


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## barsoomcore

Sir Elton said:
			
		

> If the Intellectual Elite is hailing it as great, then it must be very bad.



Well, I guess it depends on what you call the Intellectual Elite. Harold Bloom? See, here you and I part ways cause if Dr. Bloom's hailing something as great, in my experience it usually is. On the other hand, there's the late Jacques Derrida. I don't know how you'd even be able to tell if Mr. Derrida was approving or disapproving of something, anyway, so I guess it probably doesn't matter.

I like lots of writers. ERB is certainly gifted, and _A Princess of Mars_ is great fun book. But then so is _The Unbearable Lightness of Being_, and so is _The Cinnamon Peeler's Wife_, and so is _Death in the Afternoon_, and so is _The House at Pooh Corner_.

Rejecting ANYTHING sight unseen is a bad idea. Read stuff and decide if you like it. Don't worry if the prose is flowery or not. Do you like it? Do other people? If you find people's opinions are different than your own, find out why. Could be you'll discover something in that "flowery prose" that speaks to you, if only somebody will point it out to you.


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## Desdichado

Sir Elton said:
			
		

> I don't see the big deal.  Here, I thought Barsoomcore was a writer like . . . TS Eliot.  But looking at his writing, he uses regular language, like ERB did.  But then, I guess that what makes it good.
> 
> Barsoomcore, you're a regular joe writer, writing for the demos.  Do not ever become a writer like the one who wrote "The Great Gatsby."  I never read that book, but if the Intellectual Elite is hailing it as great, then it must be very bad.  flowery prose as all get out might win points for them, but the demos wants something they'd enjoy.



Well, that whole post is a bit out of left field, and frankly, I don't know what to make of it, or what it has to do with my quoted post, or anything else in this thread, for that matter.

We have an entire other forum for literary criticism (although usually confined to fantasy/sci-fi genre stuff) so I'm not sure it's really appropriate to hijack this excellent story hour for a discussion on the merits of FitzGerald.  For what its worth, though, I always thought _The Great Gatsby_ a fascinating, easy read.

And I don't know what you mean by demos in that context.  Usually demos is used as short for demonstration.


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## Desdichado

Don't mind me.  Just hoping that a bump will urge barsoomcore to write another episode...


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## barsoomcore

Oh, undoubtedly.

All my Story Hours are suffering these days. Just hired half-a-dozen people and am desperately trying to figure out what this company is going to look like once we've doubled in size...


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## Desdichado

Actually both your other story hours had updates in late December, so this one was feeling lonely.  Plus, it was back on the 4th page or so with mine, which was kinda sad.

Although I'm not worried about mine; I've got an update 85% or so written that I just need to finish off and stick on the end of it to put some more life back into it.  Sad how real life intrudes!  But you never know when you'll see another Barsoom update...


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## Desdichado

Hey, now!  You're playing favorites!  Another update for the Stewardesses?


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## barsoomcore

I'm still figuring out how to transition to "Part Two" of this SH. I want to make it as self-contained as possible so that people who start there don't HAVE TO come here. I think.


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## Desdichado

That's a good point.  If it were me, and you can certainly feel free to completely ignore this and do as you please, but I'd start a new thread for Barsoom Tales part II, put a link to this thread in the first post, as well as a real quick blurb about who the characters (maybe as a bulleted list with the little title "Dramatis Personae" at the top) including NPCs and a super condensed summary of the action so far.  I mean, real quick blurb.  The entire thing no longer (if even that) than an average Story Hour episode.

And then just charge right in.

Or just charge right in anway.  After all, you started this one without the benefit of the first several sessions and it hasn't hurt it any, right?


----------

