# *New* Mehket's Magnificent Seven



## brujahbunny (Nov 4, 2003)

The view beneath the Sultan’s lake was nothing short of spectacular in its pristine clarity and opulent grandeur. Set in the desert Sultanate of Al‘Akhbar, its mere presence was an example of the kingdom’s vast riches and its populace’s resulting mastery over its natural surroundings. Shoals of rainbow colored fish darted away in alarm, moving with the single clarity of purpose and the sublime gracefulness of a thousand creatures guided by a single mind. Amidst, the shimmering spectrum of reverberant colors darting toward the gold coral below, a dragon whelp, Mehket, skimmed through the cool waters with child-like delight, squealing away, his laughter erupting inaudibly in a barrage of bubbles. He would have swam even faster swishing through the water with his reptilian tail had he not been held fast by a serpentine tentacle attached to a construct of gargantuan proportions that casts a deep eight armed shadow in the coral bed below.          

        A hundred feet behind, a lone figure cuts through the choppy waters with broad strokes that belied a man in the prime of his physical condition. His name is Liang, a sometime-acolyte of the “Monastery of the Four Dharmas and One Truth” as well as full time peasant hero. Clad in thin saffron, he was glad that his friend, the Kasatriya Putra Suriavharman had called upon his ancestors prayers and rendered his body resistant to the paralyzing cold of the water induced by the chilly winds of a star-lit desert night. His vision magnified by his Chi catches sight of the Wyrmling and his pseudo dragon companion in the obsidian grasp of the mysterious automation. His muscles burned with exertion and his all too human endurance began to tire against the construct’s ceaseless locomotion. As he watched on, his eyes stinging from the effects of the water, the construct began to pull away. “No!” his mind screamed in anguish as the black shape disappeared beyond the range of his preternatural vision along with the dragon whelp that he had come to be fond of over the last few days. Calling upon his spiritual reserves, he searched through his infinite reservoir of past lives and erupts in an explosion of funnel shaped steam and where there was once a man is now a colossal Sea Drake that once guarded the shipping lanes of the Kao Pun Straits against the predations of the Abu Nidal Were-Crocodile pirate fleet two hundred years ago. Embracing the strength of his new form, Liang powered through the choppy waters and in a flourish of coral bed debris cuts off the automated assassin in its watery tracks.    

         For a moment, serpent and machine looked on, drowning themselves in the visages of their adversaries beneath the still silent depths of the lake. The construct, molded from an admixture of piceous rock and ebonite metal was designed as a miscreation, a cross between a beauteous woman and an eight armed serpent. The face of the construct was a portrait of a saint but the curves of its body was that of a smothering harlot. Every nuance of its movement was manufactured to elicit pain in a myriad of ways coupled with the dispassionate disposition of a surgeon. Mehket and the pseudo dragon watch on anxiously as their lives hang in a precarious balance. And then, that moment of calm passes.  

         The waters explode into waves of action. Liang reacting before the construct saturates his thoughts into a ray of destructive energy and water sizzles around and finally crashes unerringly into its side. Nothing. It seemed as if the blackness of its metallic hide had swallowed the ray into oblivion. In response, the gargantuan construct begins to wave its six free arms hypnotically with the disturbing grace of a dancer painting a symbol of sheer malignance. The rune shone as a beacon in the water; colored in hues of crimson likening it to a cloud of sanguine baiting sharks to the vicinity. Drawn to the call, the coral bed splits and belches forth a creature from the Abyss. The earth around it screams as if the creature’s very presence was an anathema to the natural world. Shaped like an eel and man, the many finned monstrosity immediately succumbs to blood thirst and attacks the monk. The monk in his fortitudinous Sea Drake form brushes aside the vicious rakes with ease. Sensing the efforts of his foes to encircle him, he concentrates on the duality of his consciousness to manifest a negate psionics to dispel the summoning but his efforts fail. Unflinching, he utilizes his mental reserves to fortify his draconic form. The construct evaluated its priorities and the imbued stratagems of its creator and “decides” that self preservation would be a good enough deterrent to this quarry and with puissant strokes continues on to its destination. 

          The huge demon, unconcerned about the fate of the soulless construct that birthed him into this world, calls forth one of its pets from the Abyss to savor purity made flesh and yet another monstrosity is birthed amidst the discordance of battle. This time, evil personified comes in the shape of a ravenous Dire Great White Shark armed with teeth the shape of rusted scythes and a vivacious appetite. Liang assesses the situation with his reptilian eyes unblinking in the water and calls upon an entire lifetime of martial arts to adopt a defensive stance but his Colossal Sea Drake form does not lend enough agility and the fiendish shark tears a hefty chunk of flesh in serrated cuts laced with unholy power. Grimacing, Liang wrenches himself from the bite of the demon and despite his open wound sending both demons into blood frenzy; he ignores their revelry and tumbles through them, his colossal serpentine form twisting in a spiral and overtakes the infernal machine once more. 

         Mehket, the little wyrm looked on at this spectacle in awe. Indeed the man made lake struggled to contain the titanic struggle that was waged in its depths by the four sea monsters. Mehket sighed and looked at expressionless construct’s face permanently fixed in supplication to a god and asked,” Why you want Mehket? Mehket no harm you. Mehket need to go home… see Peter.” The construct gazes ahead uncomprehending. “You let Mehket go NOW!!!  Peter needs Mehket.” the Wyrmling beseeched, his melodious voice cracking in emotion like that of a panicked child lost at a marketplace. He bites down with all the might that he can master but the metal is callously impervious. Pearly drops of liquid gold cascades down his cheeks and drifts off into the water like drops of bittersweet honey.

       Liang catches Mehket in the eye and with a nod reassures the dragon whelp that all was not at lost. In the face of this uncomprehending apathetic evil, only the strength of human courage shall stand in defiance. The ebon construct raises its fist and Liang bellows in the water summoning forth his chi to turn aside the blows. The fist connects. As well as four others. The potent punches are as hard as adamantine and the scales of Liang’s Sea Drake form fall to the coral bed below like a shower of red leaves drifting in autumn. One particular blow catches Liang in the snout and the excruciating pain nearly blinds him. In that single moment, his Chi weakens and to his dismay, he realizes that he had failed. Numbness permeates him from the tail upwards and his scales that once glistened with life now shone as ebon stone. As the petrification process reaches it’s near its end, he glances at Mehket, the wyrm and bows. 

     The Sea Drake now inert and lifeless captured in all eternity in its noble final stand fossilized in stone drifted and sank to the brackish murky depths below. Bleakness consumes and hope languishes in the basement of the world. 

     And thus Mehket’s Magnificent Seven was born.


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## brujahbunny2 (Nov 10, 2003)

*Continuation*

“But there are demons in the lake!!!” 

      Back on shore, a furious argument had shattered the fragile tranquility of the night. “I’m telling you good sir, any minute my friend is going to drag a demon out of the Sultan’s lake and show it to you.” , Swordsman Jack, the assimar paladin of Pelor exclaimed earnestly to a pair of unconvinced, slightly bemused palace guards. In the background, his two comrade-in-arms, Archon Maxamillian Grey of the Magistrate of Tyr and the ksatriya warrior-noble of Mahani, Putra Suriavharman waded gingerly into the water but their heavy armor made any sort of progress impossible.

         “I don’t care if you think that there are demons in the lake. Guests are not allowed to swim after seven. Do you understand?” barked Corporal Ali of the Ministry of Parks and Beaches. “You two! Get out of the water. I will have no drowning knights on my watch!”

       Swordsman Jack took a deep breath, words of prayer flowing from his lips like dew dripping from swaying leaves in the morning dawn. His luminescent eyes blazed with earnest fervor and his voice deep and resonant like rolling thunder. The paladin spoke, “I swear to you upon the sanctity of my faith that there is a demon inside the lake and the life of Piotr the White, honored guest of the Sultan and a young dragon are in dire peril. Will you stand by and allow such atrocity to take place on your watch? Now will you please allow us through? If I should be proven wrong, you may by all means arrest me.” 

      The two guards of the Ministry of Parks and Beaches looked at each other, bowled over by this shinning man’s passionate argument about being allowed to wade in the water after seven.

      “Very well, you have half an hour.”

       The next half hour was spent futilely beneath the chilly waves. Despite renting “Amulets of Water Breathing” from the administrative office, the search was made difficult because three factors. Poor visibility, cumbersome armor and lastly and perhaps most importantly, the party not knowing how to swim. The only lead was a sink hole where water from the lake swirled violently to the Undersea, a massive sea beneath the desert. On the recommendation of Archon Maxamillian Grey who was ever ready to narrate an old story in his long distinguished career of crime-busting (However distasteful and gruesome it was to the uninitiated), a criminal who once swam into a sink hole to evade arrest floated back up to the surface in twelve separate counties looking like twelve different suspects. 

       The three made their way back to shore convinced. 

       As they neared land, they caught sight of a squad of guards moving with urgency on the beach. Those men athletically leapt out of their light warhorses and unsheathed their scimitars in a coordinated flourish. One of them, a bearded pox-marked behemoth of a man and probably a ranking officer by the manner in which he moved and spoke with familiar authority boomed. “Look out for the four men! They are armed and dangerous. Shoot if you encounter any sort of resistance. Questions?” There were none.

    “Now move! Move! Move!” a sergeant bellowed.

   “I think they’re looking for us.” whispered Grey, his azure eyes squinting in concentration behind his ancient helm bobbing out of the water. 

     “A brilliant deduction detective. As always…you astound me with your keen powers of conjecture.” Putra growled curtly, sarcasm and machismo cutting through the air keener than the water’s edge. “What do we do now?”

    “We wait.” Swordsman Jack replied assertively as he sank underwater.

     Twenty minutes later, the three warriors emerged from another part of the lake clinging as closely to the shadows as sheer wits would allow them. Fortune smiles and they evade detection by the skin of their teeth. Throwing themselves flat on the earthy embankment, they catch sight of troops already swarming the beach house where Piotr the White, a local boy folk hero and the supposed target of an assassination attempt was staying as guest of the Sultan. Breathless, tired and cold, the nerves of the three heroes were beginning to fray.

    “We should go back to the sink hole and take our chances.” Putra whispered in undisguised irritation at having to skulk about like a common brigand.

     “I’ve told you already. It’s dangerous. Remember the time where…” rambled Grey.

    “Hush.” Jack hissed. “They’re coming.”

    “I’ll take my chances.” Putra vehemently insisted and dashed across the beach like a slick hunting cat to the surprise and chagrin of his fellows.

    “. Idiot.” Grey miffed and concealed himself amongst the palm trees. “We really should have got some jurisdiction for this operation.”

      A squad of men broke through the landscaped bramble having heard noise in the direction of the shore line. Breathing heavily and with coppery sweat trickling painfully into their feverish eyes, they scrutinized the darkness for the “master spies” that had infiltrated the palace. Tales of their deadly technique had filtered through the barracks like a plague of fear even as the alarms were sounded. A miniscule of a second was all it took for the infiltrators to lay waste to an entire squad of men in a whirlwind of razor sharp blades. A shudder broke through the ranks as they silently prayed to Al-Akhbar that the noise that they heard a second ago were not the nefarious spies but some innocuous noise that go bump in the desert night.

      Suddenly, it happened. A dainty leave floated down delicately and landed on the sergeant’s shoulder with all eyes trained on its movement. 

   “The trees! They’re in the trees!!!”

   Immediately, subdued fear takes a back seat and two hundred man-hours of regimented training spun the men into adrenalin-laced reaction. Dropping their scimitars, they deftly drew their crossbows and took aim at the canopy above them with bolts cocked and fingers twitching at the hair sensitive triggers. The sound of cocking bolts reverberated across the night air in waves of barely-constrained violent intent aimed at the source of the sound. 

    “Erm… Coconuts anyone?” Swordsman Jack smiled sheepishly.


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## brujahbunny2 (Nov 10, 2003)

*Hi everyone.*

Greetings all,

               Thank you stopping by to read "Mehket's Magnificent Seven." My name is Raihan. I'm from Singapore. I'm a student film-maker in a local polytechnic. This is *obviously* my first time publishing my fiction in a public forum and I’m understandably nervous. But having 30+ views so far is kind off satisfying.  

              The game that you currently reading about started three years ago. It went on for about a year. It was the first 3rd edition game that I ran and now, it’s been resurrected at the behest of my friends who’ve had fond memories of it. At present, the party is a mix of level 14 to level 16 characters. We’re not exactly experienced in playing at this power level like many of you guys out there and we’re bumbling along as we go along. We’re an Asian group and as such there’s a lot of Asian cultural influence in the game ranging from less serious ones like Bollywood, Hong Kong Kung Fu movies, Japanese Anime to more profound ones like Zen Buddhism and the Hindu caste system.

          I’m blessed with a group of talented and committed role-players and I certainly hope that this Story Hour does justice to the characters involved.  

        Thanks again for dropping by and stay tuned for more of Mehket’s Magnificent Seven. 

                                                                  Cheers!

                                                                     Raihan


OOC: I know what you’re thinking. Swordsman Jack is such a cheesey name! The players were having a lark trying to get a fake name for the paladin with a sordid history. Well, they claim that it’s very Japanese anime so it’s an acquired cheesey taste.


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## xenoflare (Nov 11, 2003)

*haha.*

hallo,

  i'm the player for Lian - and i admit, i started the whole thing 'bout referring to the other PC as "Swordsman Jack". those of you who watch Samurai Jack will get the reference - and since the aasimar character is supposed to be mysterious and his true identity remains incognito for "story reasons", i thought a Metal Gear Solid 2: Sons of Liberty reference to "Jack" or "Raiden" would be erm appropriate. 

  i much, much prefer the new writing style haha - easier to read and snappier style of prose. but one complaint.. (rant on)

  WHERE IS MY PSICRYSTAL? It gave the best advice of the evening, and its negotiating skills were instrumental in not getting the PCs killed!

  (rant off)

  yours,
shao


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## Gray (Nov 11, 2003)

*Well..hello hello*

Hello it is me...the one who comes online to play Pt..

Hmmm....rather good account of what happened...lol...although u missed out the 'Win, lose, Die' part of the underwater act....lol

As you would already have figured out..i am the player playing Archon Gray. Inspired from Sir Dorian Gray from a Leage of Extraordinary Gentleman. =)...

I'm the resident Inspector Cluso, Cluedo or whatever u call it yea...or rather...Inspector Codename 'Pink Panthar'. The most obvious things are there for me to point out obviously and making testimonals and taking the stand obviously is not my forte..=)...

oh well...(tells a realy long story about how i caught a bandit)

Reg.
Jeff


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## brujahbunny2 (Nov 11, 2003)

Twenty leagues away, Lian awoke. Around him, the world was swathed with impenetrable darkness. He could not tell where he was or how much time had elapsed since his disastrous defeat. Neither was he capable of simply distinguishing as to whether he had eyes to see nor limbs to move. Yet, the absence of all light did not bring about the sense of palpable fear or confusion but rather, it felt womb-like, comfortable and serene like the warm mammalian embrace of his mother when he was a child. Here, Lian felt a tangible connection to the universe that was sublime in its spirituality and he savored the wholeness of self, saturated in the experiences of a thousand lifetimes.

            Off in an immeasurable distance that was both far and near, the melodic sounds of the holy sutras chanted by infinite monks heightened his revelry and cemented his attunement to the cosmos. Brightness flares and enlightenment illuminates the world around. His world is small just like the worlds of all men. He reflects and understands that all men cannot see beyond themselves, their needs and their base desires. In recognizing this, Lian had taken the first of many steps in achieving enlightenment. A woman of unearthly grace stands before him and it is not her beauty that moves him for as a monk he felt no lust. Rather, she emanates mercy and compassion that was bountiful and available to all who sought it. She is Kwan Yin, a boddhivshta of mercy. 

          She offers him a vision. It is a world devoid of all light. People stumble about in the blinding darkness desperately trying to find their way. They are starving. In hunger, they peel dried bark from dead trees with bloodied fingernails and scrape sand from the ground so that they may feast on dust and ashes. Their sunken eyes are hollow with misery and skeletal children cling to the cadaverous breasts of their mothers trying desperately to draw nourishment but it is futile and hopeless. It is a world of absolute pain and suffering that moves Lian to sob like a child.

        “Why have you shown me this Goddess?” he asked hoarsely. The tightness in his throat made it difficult to speak.

       “Because I believe acolyte, that if I were to show you ugliness and misery, you will flinch but you would not look away. You will not forget what I have shown you.” she spoke wordlessly.

      “How can I help them?  These people suffer and I cannot stand by idle; knowing but not acting.” Lian beseeched. 

    “All your life, you have mastered the destructive power of the Phoenix spirit that burns inside and channel its power to destroy evil that threatens the peasantry and holds the weak hostage. You have slain the vile and burned away fiends in the purifying flames of the Phoenix. Your deeds have not gone unnoticed. You have garnered the eternal gratitude of the common folk and the admiration of countless. You have done well, Lian Wu Hai”

She pauses.

“But to help those whom I have shown, you must unlearn all that you have learnt. You must forgo the power of the Phoenix in entirety and walk another path. Though the path of destruction is formidable, it is one that perpetuates the cycle of hate. You must learn to stride on the road of mercy.  For it is the road of forgiveness, reconciliation and redemption for even the darkest and most wicked soul. Strife begets strife. Only by possessing the courage to forgive shall the seeds of peace be sown. ”

There was no hesitation in the monk. No hesitation at all to throw away everything that he has ever known.

“I accept those vows. Once I was a bandit. Then I was a phoenix. Now I am a guide. It is not the power of the phoenix that matters but the lesson it teaches.” 

With those words, his body slumps and he feels a familiar part of his soul empty itself into the universe. There is no remorse for the sacrifice. There is no regret over the loss of self. A flux of immense power gushes into the heart’s vacuum filling it with the fortitudinous will of a thousand martyrs and infuses him with an aura of calm that make murderers stop in their tracks and ponder on the horrific nature of their crimes. Some would call it an apotheosis. Others… a miracle. To Lian, it was all he can do so that he could even begin to help.


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## Chasmodai (Nov 12, 2003)

Way cool! These guys have a Story Hour!

For those who are remotely interested, these are the guys I regularly game with - though not as much I'd like, nowadays.

Anyways, enough about me. Keep up the good work, dude, excellent writing!


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## xenoflare (Nov 14, 2003)

*renegades of bump! renegades of bump!*

update! we want the Anointed Knight/ Warrior of Darkness duel! bump! bump!

we're the renegades of -bump!- renegades of -bump!- come on Chasmodai! join the song and dance segment - there's a bollywood hero in the game, what's more!


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## Chasmodai (Nov 14, 2003)

The only song i'll ever sing, dude, would be: *I want an update!*

*Me want update!

We want update!

Update! Update! Update!*


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## brujahbunny2 (Nov 17, 2003)

*Interrogation*

Thank you Chaosmodai and Xenoflare for your kind support. I've just finished Sephulcrave's work and it's beautiful. By the way, does anyone  know how I can "color" my text. The panel in which I used the last time does no longer appear. Anyways, on to the story.


                                 *-Interrogation-*

  “Swordsman Jack? What kind of a name is that?”

  “A fake one. That’s what. An alias no doubt.” Superintendent Allaudin Ibn Raid Min Kassar replied with a raspy sneer that ever so faintly disguised his condescension of his subordinate’s mediocre intelligence. 

   The two detectives sat at their desks fidgeting and racking their brains trying to formulate a motive for the three men found wandering in the palace grounds. The heat was sweltering in its murderous intensity and the drought that had assailed the entire desert for the last month did not show any signs of letting up and the resulting heat wave was killing people in their homes as they died of dehydration and heat stroke. Children perished like dried prunes in villages too far away from the tender administration of the clerics of Al-Akhbar even as their anguished parents prayed frantically for a salvation that never came. The two detectives were lucky to be in the relative comfort of their shaded office and have their sweat-drenched tunics to show for their good fortune.

   “I don’t understand… Our suspects do not seem to fit the profiles of known terrorists, spies or assassins. It just doesn’t make sense. Why weren’t they armed? Who were their targets? Why wasn’t there any resistance to their arrest?” the boyish investigator exclaimed his thoughts aloud, a thin sheen a sweat coating his lips like a moustache he doesn’t have.     

   “You’re thinking too hard, detective. If the answers there, it’s there. No sense making something out of nothing.” Superintendent Allaudin grunted and whips out a stick of tobacco, lighting it with such alacrity that no motion was wasted. “We’re obviously barking up the wrong tree. It seems a little too convenient.” He pauses as if to reshuffle his thoughts. 

   “Intuition tells me that our boys on the ground smelled something fishy and bit the first Red Herring they could sink their teeth into.” the veteran investigator smiled wily even as beads of sweat trickle down the side of his head. “Commission for their release. You can forget about those trespassing charges.”

  “But Sir… I must protest. Willful trespass of the palace grounds is a violation of Section 53 of the Penal Code and thus is a capital offence!” the younger man protested.

  “Trust me lad… a clean death at the executioner's falchion would do no justice to the fate that awaits them at the hands of their own superiors."

Tragically, as always, Superintendent Allaudin Ibn Raid Min Kassar was right.

*

      The three men sat in their cells. Far below the hustle and bustle of the sun-scorched streets of the Sultanate of Al-Akhbar, where the plaintiff screams of those detained by His Majesty’s pleasure will reach no ears, the hellish temperatures was catastrophic. Heat can be seen radiating from the walls in waves. The metal bars that encaged the prisoners scalded any who would brave its sizzling surface in a rabid bid for freedom. Ventilation came in the form of vents that merely served to conduit the heat from above and as such, many lost and condemned souls wallowed and died before the Sultan’s court could render justice. 

      Swordsman Jack sat in his cell looking forlorn. It had been more than a day since he had seen the daily miracle of Pelor rising from the east and already he missed the blessings of his Lord’s rays. Pelor had charged him- a fallen paladin- to save his religion that was usurped by agents of another power. Even now, despite the colossal task that was set before him, he knew that he could not fail his Lord. The question was- how was he going to do it in jail?

      Across the hall, Putra Suryavharman sat in abject disbelief. He was a warrior-prince of the great kingdom of Mahani and not some roadside bandit to be thrown in to a squalid gulag and rot like common garbage. Anger rose in like bile and he longed to vent it on something or someone. In his fury, he spat on the floor and kicked the miserable scraps that the warders had the audacity to pass off as food across the hall, sending the other riff raffs scurrying to feed themselves. 

      “Pitiful animals.”  Putra prayed to Mithra that he would never be reborn as one of these “untouchables”. Their unfortunate existences were obviously a result of misdeeds in their past lives and he swore that he will live up to his ksatriya ancestor’s hallowed names or die as one.

      Beside his cell, Archon Maxamillian Grey was already plotting his defense and tabulating the facts of the case. Espionage, the crime that he was charged with was a capital offence. A reduced charged of willful trespass into the Royal Palace amounted to the same fatal consequences. 

    “Mr. Grey! There is someone from your Magistrate here to see you!” the warden Qasir bellowed habitually despite his parched throat. 

  ======================================================

   Under an armed escort, Grey was ushered roughly into a room. It was spartanly furnished. Two men sat in rickety chairs and waited for the Paladin of Tyr to take his place.  

   One of them was a gargantua of a man. Despite his advanced age, he was clad in gleaming, dented full-plate that enhanced his magnificently cultured alpine beard. The Consular General, Stephan Wolfgang of the Magistrate of Tyr looked every bit the part of a grim dispenser of justice.

   The other was a lanky gentleman whose sharp features were partially silhouetted and he started to take notes of the conversation discreetly.

  “SIT. Do you know who I am?” Consular Wolfgang asked tersely without much ceremony. 

  “Err… You must be the Consular General. I’ve been trying to make an appointment with you but your secretary…” Grey rattled on.

  “Be silent runt! You are to answer my questions concisely, Archon. I resent the tone of familiarity that you take with me. I am your ranking superior and you are to address me as such.”  The aged judge barked in rage, his wizened face darkened till it was nearly beet root red in color. 

  “Your actions have resulted in smearing the reputation of your God and his sanctified judiciary. Why, Archon, by Tyr’s hand have you trespassed the Sultan’s palace?”    

   “I apologize for my complacency…Sir. I was in pursuit of a team of assassins who were poised to strike targets in the Sultan’s palace. I had sought proper authorization from the security command through a local officer of the law, Inspector Mahmud. However, permission was not granted. Therefore, me and my comrades were forced to make a difficult decision. Because the lives of the Sultan and his guest, Piotr the White were in genuine danger, I thought it proper to take a calculated risk, Sir.” 

    Gray replied coolly, picking his words carefully so as not to further aggravate the old man. Being a field agent, it had been a long time since he was asked to testify in court. He was beginning to dread his lack of practice.

    “And in doing so, you have transgressed the law. There are proper channels to legislate any covert action. If paladins of Tyr cannot be expected to adhere to the letter and the spirit the law, then how can we be expected to uphold justice? Why was not the Magistrate informed?”  Consular Wolfgang pressed on. 

“With all due respect Sir, there was no time. The assassins were poised to strike at any given moment. Each second I was delayed would be a matter of life and death for an important figure in the palace. If there was a way to get some form of jurisdiction for the mission, I would surely have sought it.” 

“Well, then, what evidence do you have of this assassins?”  

“The assassins were from House Belahrus.”

“What!!!!” The Consular General’s eyes bulged in disbelief. “Archon, that’s impossible. The House is extinct. They were purged by the other noble houses of Aghrive ten years ago. I was there with Justicar Jaroslav Mannvitsbrekka who conducted the trial. There were 759 convictions of murder, 268 convictions of battery, 658 convictions of infernalism and convictions of just about every other crime and perversity that a depraved human mind can possibly think of. Led by House Destare, we marched every man, woman and abomination to the gallows, and the world was better for it. You are surely mistaken.” 

“I am aware of the House’s blasphemous history and its timely destruction. But I am certain that remnants of the House still exist and they do intend to inflict casualties here in the Sultanate. I cannot as yet fathom their motives but they have struck a target in a suburb district. Twenty five people were slain in the explosion.”  

The paladin attested grimly. Memory of charred flesh and death grimaces filtered through his mind making his stomach retch in grotesque recollection even as he continued.  

“Before the explosion, I and the Ksatriya Warrior Putra were taunted by an illusion of the perpetrator of the crime at the conflagration’s ground zero. He claimed responsibility for the bombing and challenged us to stop him. He also promised further attacks on the Sultanate and identified himself as Anton Belahrus. Further investigations revealed that a monk named Lian had encountered agents of House Belarus in the Cold Lands and they had sought to slay Piotr’s paladinic mount. By good fortune, I met Swordsman Jack who claims to be the son of Lucian Belahrus, the patriarch of the House. He seeks his father’s destruction.”

 The Consular General leaned back on his chair severely testing the  furniture of its capacity to function. He was deep in thought weighing in his mind the information that was recited to him. What the Archon had told him shook him more than he let on. Years of both field and legal training made him quite adept in maintaining an innocuous façade.

“Well then, what is your evidence?”

“The testimony of the accused.”

“You mean to say the testimony of an illusion?”  

“Correct. I understand that this might be hard to take in all at once, Sir.”

“Do not make presumptions of my limits or my capacity to understand anything Archon. Do you think that the testimony of an illusion is admissible in court? Do you think that it is enough to garner us a conviction or even to start an inquiry?”

The Archon looked crestfallen. He knew that it would not be enough. 

“Well, I admit it won’t be…”

“I could put a f**king monkey on the stand and train it to say; I’m from House Belahrus. And it would amount to the same thing. You’re opening a can of worms, Archon. If indeed what you say is correct, you’re going to open a chapter of history that people would rather forget. But right now, your case is so full of crock and you would be hard pressed to prove that you’re a paladin of Tyr.” 

The two men sat there in silence for several seconds. The oil lamp swayed over their heads casting a cantankerous pallor over their faces. The tension between the two truth-seekers of Tyr was electrifying in its intensity. No sound permeated the room with excerption of the scribe’s scrawling on the papyrus. The Consular General spoke first.

“I concede however that the possibility of the infernal house still existing merits- investigation. You will no doubt wish to undertake this task?”

“I will do as you and Tyr ask me to, Sir.” Archon Grey replied evenly.

“Very well. You are assigned to go undercover and provide me with a weekly report on your progress. I will be preoccupied with shepherding the peace process here between the state of Semphar and the celestial lycanthrope nomads of Karashstan. I will petition for your release and that of Swordsman Jack who is your closest lead. You are not to reveal your allegiances to any in the course of your investigation. A sum of fourteen thousand gold pieces shall assigned to you to be spent as you see fit.”

“Thank you, Sir. What about Putra?” 

“I’m afraid that the fate of your friend is uncertain. His Majesty, Maharaja Barachan has yet to speak with him. From what I gather from his dark looks, his future promises to be ominous indeed.    

                                        =End=


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## xenoflare (Nov 18, 2003)

“Pitiful animals.” Putra prayed to Mithra that he would never be reborn as one of these “untouchables”. Their unfortunate existences were obviously a result of misdeeds in their past lives and he swore that he will live up to his ksatriya ancestor’s hallowed names or die as one.


mwa ha ha. it's a sin to die asleep in bed, you know, for a ksathriya. 

or even worse, a sin to die while asleep on the streets like a homeless shudra untouchable! 

mwa ha ha. 

yours,
shao


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## xenoflare (Nov 18, 2003)

*other sins*

while we're at it..

i laughed so much and my head hurts now. 

Quote:

-

The Consular General leaned back on his chair severely testing the furniture of its capacity to function. He was deep in thought weighing in his mind the information that was recited to him. What the Archon had told him shook him more than he let on. Years of both field and legal training made him quite adept in maintaining an innocuous façade.

“Well then, what is your evidence?”

“The testimony of the accused.”

“You mean to say the testimony of an illusion?” 

“Correct. I understand that this might be hard to take in all at once, Sir.”

“Do not make presumptions of my limits or my capacity to understand anything Archon. Do you think that the testimony of an illusion is admissible in court? Do you think that it is enough to garner us a conviction or even to start an inquiry?”

The Archon looked crestfallen. He knew that it would not be enough. 

“Well, I admit it won’t be…”

“I could put a f**king monkey on the stand and train it to say; I’m from House Belahrus. And it would amount to the same thing. You’re opening a can of worms, Archon. If indeed what you say is correct, you’re going to open a chapter of history that people would rather forget. But right now, your case is so full of crock and you would be hard pressed to prove that you’re a paladin of Tyr.” 

-

  i think our monkey did better, actually. he never did get caught.

yours,
shao


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## Thomas Hobbes (Nov 18, 2003)

This one looks interesting, actually.  Just stumbled on to it.  Looking forward to more.


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## neveryours (Nov 18, 2003)

*Legal Eagles... Not!*

Suddenly, it seems that our games have turned into episodes of Law & Order. Except that we seem to have excesses of bumbling defences. Where are the people with Knowledge Law when you need them?

Very enjoyable excercise in RPing. Raihan, Very nice description of the meeting the interview of ASP. Gray. Still, could never stand the rigidity of Tyr.


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## xenoflare (Nov 18, 2003)

*yay!*

haha, Helm's worse when it comes to being a hardass - though i thought you were always a fan of Lawful hardasses, neveryours. or maybe your recent incarceration under both the kind graces and tender mercies of both Al'Akbar and Saint Cuthbert has changed your opinion on lawful deities of retribution? 

thanks for popping by, Hobbes! we (the players) are making up brief character intros and putting our c-sheets onto the rogue's gallery soon, hopefully with some artwork. our DM (brujahbunny) is having his holiday vacation now, so he can churn out more work... -bumps for update- help spread the word, if you will (shameless pimp )

yours,
shao


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## dzorsch (Nov 18, 2003)

i'll work on those pictures soon, i swear i'm not procrastinating. just charging up the artistic urges.

but meanwhile, here's a picture of the maharaja of mahani, my estranged lord. *sniff*


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## brujahbunny2 (Nov 20, 2003)

*The Great Sundering*

Hi. Thank you for your kind comments. Thanks Hobbes for the thumb's up. It's great to hear that people other than my players enjoy the story. The next excerpt should be read with the healthy dose of bollywood melodrama. 


                          -To Sunder a Ksatriya-

   Putra Suryavharman paced to and fro in his cell, spewing curses and oaths that were unintelligible to those around him. Vagrants, vagabonds, ruffians, traitors and other undesirables of the Sultanate of Al Akhbar who had the unfortunate circumstance of sharing the cell with him regarded the unarmed warrior with wariness similar to that of a pack of jackals regarding a lion. 

         They were either a pitiful or pathetic lot. That choice based solely on one’s view of the world. Clad in rags that reeked of urine and dried excrement, they melted under the blazing heat of the desert sun and cried out feebly for their loved ones to save them from their incarceration. Many would die here without mourners. No lips shall issue forth prayers that would shepherd their journey from this world to the next. Till their imminent passing, passive existence was prolonged suffering and the pain of death- sweet orgasmic release. Down here, the dignity of life was truly without meaning.

         The infernal heat made Putra’s head dizzy. Already, his heart quaked in violent palpitations laced with rage at his ill-treatment. His thoughts, colored by the madness of his anger swam with murderous intent. Knuckles white with tension, Putra struggled with his inner demons that once plagued his youth and in a bid to control his fury, he directed his thoughts to the sacred Vedic texts that guided his new life. 


_*“To be influential in battle, unconquerable, patient, challenging and charitable, to control the bodily necessities, to be forgiving, to be attached to the brahminical nature and to be always jolly and truthful--these are the symptoms of the ksatriya." 
                                                          (SB 7.11.22)*_

      Having barely mastered himself for a moment, he leaned against the wall that was carpeted with cracks and graffiti. Succumbing to his weakness and he felt his body lethargically slide to the slovenly floor. The ksatriya was tired and thirst drained his strength like a sponge seeping up water. In a distance, he sees a murky puddle of spilled water. To his disgust, it had looked rather tantalizing. But he does not touch it. After all, there were limits to his spiritual concessions.

**Thirst*…..* Resentment *……*Impotency*…* Anxiety* …….*Anger *……*Pride* Thirst* ….*Doubt* ………*Helplessness*… Fear* …….*Indignant*…* Piety* *Loyalty* ………*Fear*………. *Resignation*…… *Sadness *…….*Rage* ………*Thirst*……… *Pity*………...*Resolve *…………*Confusion *……*

    Like a melting pot, thoughts collided and colluded in his feverish mind. Simmered by the impossible heat, he felt his eyelids grow heavy and the world flickered from black to white and the sound of men and women pleading for release faded to the reverberant sounds of oblivion. 

At the pinnacle of worldly suffering, distinction between warrior prince and untouchable ceased to exist.         

**

   Cool water splashes across Putra’s face and it cascades down his handsome aristocratic features in huge luminous orbs. Putra awoke to see the face of old man whose gentle features were frame by a mellifluous beard and an unmistakable halo of piety. The old man stroked the warrior’s hair in an almost fatherly gesture and feed the dehydrated warrior a bowl of water. Behind him, two familiar faces of Anand Singh and Govindar Dasavataras looked on solemnly.  

“The Maharaja is awaits, Putra.”

“Let us go then. How is he?”

“He is not pleased, Putra. I have yet to see him this angry”

“Bring me to him. I am prepared to lose my life.”

“I’m afraid… even that might not be enough.” 

**

        Putra was brought by his fellow ksatriya to a room where minutes earlier Archon Grey had departed with Consular General Stefan Wolfgang.  Inside, the Maharaja Barachan stood with his back to the door. The man carried himself with such bearing that the mountains of homeland prostrated to his magnificent stature. Whilst he was not a handsome man in a traditional sense, he was an exemplar of aristocratic dignity and wore the scars of war as a badge of honor. Like his fellows, he too was ksatriya. He was a paragon of the caste.    

     On hearing the approach of Putra, he turns to face the errant warrior prince. The movement is poise and impeccable as always and his visage- a mask of impassivity and arrogance like that of a marble statue of Mithra himself. Putra’s heart thumped in his chest and he struggled to even look his lord in the eye. For a ksatriya, that was shame enough. In self-loathing, he hung his head in shame.

“Maharaja… ” 

    The slap came suddenly like the strike of a cobra. Maharaja Barachan’s palm hung in mid air and Putra fell backwards, clasping his cheek that smarted. The blow would have staggered a lesser shudra but Putra was neither a peasant nor a protector of cows. His injury was trivial but it had cut more deeply than any wound. He felt a choke in his throat and to his humiliation, he felt his eyes water but pride ensured that the unthinkable was abated.

   The Maharaja took Putra’s face between his hands, his own eyes were brimming with sorrow. 

“Why Putra? Why have you betrayed me?”  His melodic voice strained with grief and anguish.

“Maharaja… Please allow me to explain. There were assassins that were headed for the palace and they were headed to kill Piotr the White. I tried…”

“…I treated you like a son, Putra. And you drag my name in the gutter.” The Maharaja stopped to recompose himself. “Is this how you return your elder’s good graces?” 

“Please Maharaja, let me finish.” Putra stammered, struggling to find the right words. The right words to defuse the madness that spiraled out of control and threatened to extinguish all that he had ever known.     

“Nai*!!! I will hear none of your excuses, ksatriya! I welcomed you to feast in my house. To make war by my side. To counsel me in the affairs of my kingdom. And you reward me with this?”

“Please Maharaja, I beg you, by the sword of Mithra. The boy’s life was in danger and I could not let him die.”

“You cannot let him die? And why not? We are here in a foreign land, as guests of the Sultan and you deign to break his laws for a boy you don’t even know? What demon possessed you?”  The Maharaja was livid. “The boy, Piotr, he is an untouchable yes?”

“Yes, your highness.” Putra wished that he could find some hole to hide in. “He is.” 

“Very well then, since you enjoy the company of the untouchables, you shall wallow in the ditch just like them. You ingrate! You useless mongrel! *You…you… you are not my son.”*

The Maharaja’s words spewed out of his mouth in a reckless fit of anger and for a moment, both adopted father and son could not believe the significance of the statement and the hurt that came with it. The feeling of emptiness would cause both many a restless night still to come.

“Ah Pa… ”  Putra’s cry was plaintiff.

*“Nai… I am not your father! You are not my son. Get out! Get out of my house!”*

Putra could only turn his head away in the grief that tore at his chest.

“Since you do not wish to uphold the duties of a ksatriya, a warrior prince….”

“Please Maharaja no. No more.”

*“In my eyes, you are no longer a ksatriya. Maybe you will be happier now that you can go gallivanting with your friends. You are not ksatriya. You hear? You are not a ksatriya!!!”*

The cry of anguish that followed was similar to that of the death cries of an old lion as he is consumed by a pack of jackals. If pity dwelled in a heart of a man, he would have put the animal out of its misery. 

In desperation, Govindar Dasavatarasm, the ksatriya who fought the War of Jahal against with Putra against the Yuan Ti tried to intercede in his behalf.

“Maharaja… I implore you, please stop this.”

“Noooo!!!”

“Let me take his place. He is more worthy to stay by your side than myself. I beg you.” 

“Naiii! I swear before by the name of my ancestors that I would die before I take in that cowardly viper!”

Tears streamed down Putra Suryavharman’s eyes now freely. He was beyond consolation. Life ceased to quantify to anything more than breathing and existing. 

Anand Singh rushed to his side and the giant man whispered gently, 

“Go first brother. You know that it is impossible to speak with him when he is like this.”

Putra looked up to see the Maharaja standing with his back to him as he was once before. 

Breathless with despair, he drinks in the sight of the man who had raised him for much of his life, turns and leaves weeping, oblivious to the tears that cascaded down the Maharaja’s own. 

At the pinnacle of worldly suffering, distinction between warrior prince and untouchable again ceased to exist.


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## dzorsch (Nov 20, 2003)

In addition to pictures, I'll most probably write up chapter 2 in this story. This is probably chapter 3/3.5.


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## neveryours (Nov 20, 2003)

Oooo, that was nice. Paints a bleak picture of the party's despair. I like the last line. Very quotable. 

I can imagine an Indian accented voice. "Get out of my house!" Shades of Bend It Like Beckham. Grins.

"I want Canter!" Howls and stamps feet like a spoilt brat.


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## Thomas Hobbes (Nov 20, 2003)

mmm.   Bollywood.


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## dzorsch (Nov 21, 2003)

I think that for the benefit of the onlookers, I'll list what we all are.

Piotr the White, who we call Peter is a central NPC in the story. The story has spanned 15 years, and we first had Peter in the story when he was a little boy. Now, he's a Monk/Paladin of Heironeous. His mount, which you might have gathered by now is a gold wyrmling called Mekhet. 

Acolyte LianYan WuHai, who's played by xenoflare, is his latest character. He has his characters die in the most unfortunate ways, but xenoflare has this penchant for keeping the rest of us alive. Lian is a Monk 2/Psion 11/Sword of Righteousness 2, who's managed to make all our jaws drop more than once. He's from a chinese/tibetian inspired mythos, which i think xenoflare will be capable of elaborating on much better than i can.

Archon Maximillian Gray is a Paladin/Anointed Knight of Tyr, the last time I checked. As he says, he's the Inspector Clouseau of the party, and perhaps the most lawful amongst the few of us. He's played by Gray, of course.

(Some call me) Swordsman Jack, who's played by Edmund, somebody who doesn't seem to have an account, or if he does, doesn't seem to be posting. Swordsman Jack is a character from the chapter before this, which Edmund decided to play after his last character died, somebody from the chapter before that. Jack is an Aasimar Paladin of Pelor.

Putra Suryavarman, is my own character, a Shaman 5/Sohei 5/Templar 4. He's from Mahani, which is basically derived from India, castes and whatnot, and his religion follows Hinduism closely. He's the LN contemporary to the 3 LG PCs above.

King Canter Farstrider is a Cleric 10/Comtemplative 6 of Fharlanghn. He's played by neveryours, somebody with the uncanny ability of not dying irregardless of which game he's in. Canter is the only person amongst us who is neither Lawful or Good. It's just as well, since neveryours has his CN urges he can fulfil in game. Canter is also King of Inglessia, which is an undead ridden kingdom. (where we shamelessly satisfy our Castlevania urges) Canter believes he can convert the undead to the teachings of Fharlanghn, and they'll travel for all eternity.

These are our PCs as of current. A topic open to debate is who the Magnificent Seven are. In between, there have been character deaths, and it's difficult to say who the Seven refer to. Though some say that Peter's mount is part of the Seven, I disagree. You can have it as Mekhet's Magnificent Six, or just Magnificent Seven, but you can't be part of a group that's named after one of it's members. Some contenders are in the running, but some of them aren't exactly magnificent, while one of the contenders is a sword. 

My ideal Magnificent Seven, however, comprises of our Mounts, Animal Companions, Psicrystals and assorted familiars.


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## Thomas Hobbes (Nov 21, 2003)

dzorsch said:
			
		

> Acolyte Lian Yan Wu Huan, who's played by xenoflare, is his latest character. He has his characters die in the most unfortunate ways, but xenoflare has this penchant for keeping the rest of us alive. Lian is a Monk 2/Psion 11/Sword of Righteousness 2, who's managed to make all our jaws drop more than once. He's from a chinese/tibetian inspired mythos, which i think xenoflare will be capable of elaborating on much better than i can.




Wait- did I miss something, or didn't he kick the bucket in the first post vs. various abyssal fish?


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## xenoflare (Nov 21, 2003)

*haha*



			
				Thomas Hobbes said:
			
		

> Wait- did I miss something, or didn't he kick the bucket in the first post vs. various abyssal fish?




well..  haha abyssal fish sounds so ... erm... well... it reminds me of what i had for lunch yesterday at the sushi bar. the fishy line-up consisted of a frigging Blackstone Gigant, and a Fiend Folio Tanar'ri - one of those big 'uns, which summoned a Huge Fiendish Dire Shark.

as pointed out, a 2 mile manmade lake cannot hold 100 tons worth of monster. the math just doesn't add up. 

i got petrified by the Blackstone Gigant's petrification slam attack (Fort save DC 26, pfah), and i would have languished at the bottom of the lake if not for one of those instances of "divine intervention". 

so, hence, the scene where Lian was talking to the Bodhisattva.. but i'm getting ahead of myself. brujahbunny will probably be posting the new segments with my return soon.

yours,
shao


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## xenoflare (Nov 21, 2003)

*haha bollywood*

by the way, does anybody here on Enworld -WATCH- bollywood films? (besides us, of course.)

yours,
shao


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## neveryours (Nov 21, 2003)

*Bollywood*

We need a courtship scene to be set in some Oasis. 
Convenient palms trees to play the hide-and-seek games where we can steal furtive glances at each other.
Perform ranks to sing those oh-so-cute songs.
A gentle grassy slope that we can roll down on. Stylishly, of course.
And then the whole cast coming out when one finally catches the other and then we can do the choreographed group dance sequence.

I nominate Putra and Ravi for the role of the protagonists!

Gray will play the strict unbending father.

Canter the doting mother.

And Swordsman Jack as the scumbag who steals the girl.

Action!


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## xenoflare (Nov 24, 2003)

*dababoom!*

btw, you realize this has been a "bump"y ride?

there i said it.

"BUMP."   
yours,
shao


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## dzorsch (Nov 25, 2003)

Boots Under My Pants


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## xenoflare (Nov 28, 2003)

B.loodied U.ndersize M.elee P.okeyobjects!!!!


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## rootbeergnome (Nov 28, 2003)

B.attle-scarred U.nderwater M.onk P.etrified!!!!

Seriously though, an amazing storyhour already, I am excited to read more.  Keep it coming, I LOOOOVE the flavor, amazing.  Also, I may be the only one who doesn't know, but could someone please explain "Bollywood" to me?  Thanks in advance  

 Great Storyhour!
   -RBG


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## dzorsch (Nov 28, 2003)

Bollywood is essentially India's Hollywood. 
Hindi movies are generated by the hundreds, and mostly starr A-list Indian actors. 

The basic premise of a Bollywood movie is almost always about estranged lovers, who try to get together but can't because:

-father of the girl was enemies with father of the guy
-father of the higher caste girl disapproves of the lower caste guy
-father of the girl has already planned a marriage for the girl, with a scumbag, most of the time

you get the idea. there's always prerequisite song and dance scenes where a lot of passersby join in to dance in the streets, and they'll change their costumes mid-dance. it's a very melodramatic style of filmmaking, i suppose.

but the girls are HOT!


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## xenoflare (Nov 28, 2003)

*haha*

hi rootbeergnome!

  bollywood, as my good friend dzorsch has already pointed out, is Indian cinema - it's the biggest non-hollywood film industry in the world, i think, and definitely one of Asia's most important and sizable pop culture influences. The male leads are usually incredibly dashing, muscular, and good-hearted in some naive way (sounds like DnD paladin PCs, no?) or tend to be less conventionally good-looking but intense and broodingly good-looking (ah, we move on to sorceror PCs now haha), while the female leads tend to be beautiful, graceful girls - more intelligent, determined types who sometimes have to knock some sense into the silly males haha. dzorsch isn't joking when he talks about the dancing and music - everybody seems to be a level 20 bard, everybody, right down to random passers-by.

  there's lots of song, dance, and melodrama involved in bollywood films, and being the product of a country and culture where family, caste, and morality are very important themes, there are usually dilemmas the main characters have to undergo like loyalty to family versus loyalty to friends, loyalty to heart's love versus desire for personal profit, friendships and love affairs that transcend religious and cultural divides, etc... all meeting with a lot of opposition along the way, which is dispelled by lots of bardic musical loving. heartwarming tales, really, with over-the-top action - people routinely do flying kicks that destroy motorcycles in mid-flight, block sword blows with their knees, have hi-speed chase scene duels with guitars, etc.

  it's a, haha, rather different genre from hollywood, i guess.  to get an idea of what Putra looks like as Bollywood films would depict him... take a look-see at the pic attached. (btw, Putra's full name is Putra Suryavarman - it means, literally, "The Princely One bearing the Armour of the Sun" or "The Princely Protector of the Sun" in various contexts - he's a worshipper of Surya-Mithra, the solar deity in Hindu lore).

  hope this helped to answer some of your queries! i'll be pushing my DM to do up more updates soon.. thanks for reading!

yours in battle-scarred underwater monastic meditation,
shao


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## xenoflare (Nov 28, 2003)

*haha*

erk double post madness!


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## dzorsch (Nov 28, 2003)

xenoflare said:
			
		

> people routinely do flying kicks that destroy motorcycles in mid-flight, block sword blows with their knees, have hi-speed chase scene duels with guitars, etc.




you can't be serious. the only guitar duel i've seen is in Six String Samurai. but yeah, the action sequences are sometimes really strange.


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## Chasmodai (Nov 29, 2003)

> *Originally Posted by dzorsch*
> 
> _but yeah, the action sequences are sometimes really strange._





You forgot the sound effects. Overly exaggerated, over-the-top sounds when someone hits another person. It goes something like *d-goosh!* or *gedebap!* (yes, in bold).


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## rootbeergnome (Dec 3, 2003)

BuMp!  This story hour is excellent, I love the writing.  Thank you for the explaination on Bollywood, I get the idea.  Well, I am looking forward to an update! 
  -RBG


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## xenoflare (Dec 3, 2003)

*erk*

hola rootbeargnome!

  i'm glad to see you have now understood the might of BOLLYWOOD! brujahbunny has gone off for a short trip to Australia - he'll be back soon and maybe he has net access (bump bump nudge nudge wink wink hint hint) and will update the story from there haha. if not i'll.. i'll... i'll just have to finish off my short stories concerning Lian and Putra in their earlier days when they just got to know each other. It concerns the machinations of vile yuan-ti, high-flying martial arts action, cutting social commentary, and lots of rainforesty Oriental Adventures-style goodness. hee hee. just to keep you guys enticed and interested until our big rabbit friend updates again...

yours,
shao


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## xenoflare (Dec 3, 2003)

*erk*

and another bit of nagging at dzorsch to finish the artwork! and to put it up online! eek!

yours,
shao


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## xenoflare (Dec 3, 2003)

*double post madness*

doublepost. apologies.


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## xenoflare (Dec 3, 2003)

*triplepost.*

apologies. erk. triple post.
3rd time's the charm...

yours,
shao


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## dzorsch (Dec 19, 2003)

bump


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## Chasmodai (Dec 21, 2003)

This story needs and update. Soon. There are loose ends that need to be wrapped up and new characters to introduce.

Please??


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## Thomas Hobbes (Dec 21, 2003)

What he said.

Schnell, schnell mein freundin!  Was ist los?


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## xenoflare (Dec 22, 2003)

*buuump pleaseeeee updddaate.*

what they said. oy! oi! oy!


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## brujahbunny2 (Dec 25, 2003)

HI Guys! Glad you're enjoying the story.This installment is not very dramatic. More of an exposition why the characters are fighting the bad guys. Merry Christmas to all.


*Chapter 6: Way to the Red Rogers*

A grim voice rumbles out of the darkness.

“You’re free to go.” 

Swordsman Jack stared into the abysmal darkness ahead in stunned silence but recovered briefly to mummer a prayer of thanks to Pelor, the shinning god and took his sudden release from captivity as divine providence for his quest to restore his Lord.

“You’re really lucky to get out of here kafir! Spared of the death penalty, no imprisonment…” the jailer caustically remarked as he opened the cell door rather unwillingly and stamping away the other miserable prisoners who tried to drag themselves out of the cell.

 “You must have friends in really high places.”

Swordsman Jack thought of his Lord Pelor gleaming in the sky and said, “Naturally.”

Outside, away from the piteous moans and pleas of the gulag, Swordsman Jack met his erstwhile ally, Archon Maxamillian Grey who was examining a poster that was stained yellow with age detailing the hierarchy of the prison staff.

“I suppose that I have to thank you for my release.” Swordsman Jack asked.

“Not me,” the Archon replied with a warm smile, “But the Church of Tyr. The Consular General was concerned by your revelation that the accursed House Belarus still exists and has ordered me to give you whatever aid necessary to uncover the truth of the matter.”

“What of Putra? Would he be released as well?”

“I’m afraid that Putra’s fate lies beyond the jurisdiction of the Magistrate. We will simply have to await his fate.”

There was an unmistakable finality to those words. Unable to do anything meaningful, the two knights stood outside the prison in uncomfortable silence and waited for the outcome of their comrade’s judgment.


Many terrible moments later, Putra Suryavharman stumbled out of the prison. His clothes were disheveled and his skin as pale as corpse. Putra struggled to stand as his knees threaten to buckle and his body shivered and quaked with and admixture of emotion and a proud warriors pride as he sought to hide his weakness from his friends. Only the immeasurable grief in his soulful eyes bore witness to the sundering of his spirit.  

Grey opened his mouth to speak, to offer words of encouragement, anything to allay the grief of his friend. A bad joke or one of his old crime stories. Anything.

But he was met by Putra’s outstretched hand. Putra was grieving but the last thing he wanted was for the pity of another.

The three then made their way to the inn. These were dark days to be a hero in the desert. 



The three warriors strode through smoke-filled den of dereliction that sold a roof over the cold desert night for two coppers. “Ghafur’s Palace” was by no means the dwelling for the wealthy.  The inn keeper who was wiping glasses over the counter gave the good-looking gentlemen a toothy grin and raised the glass in salutations. The other men stared hushed silence at the nonchalant warriors and several feminine heartbeats raced in mute admiration. Only when they were out of sight did their merrymaking resume.

Upstairs, Archon Grey took out the keys and unlocked the door. As the rickety door swung open, someone opened the door from the inside. 

It was Lian Wu Hai.

“Greetings, my friends.”

“Lian, by Tyr’s uninjured right arm, you’re… alive!” Grey burst out flabbergasted. “We thought that you were done in by those dammed demon assassin puffer fishes."

"I guess, my detective friend that the rumors of my death have often been exaggerated. After all, I am able to reassume the forms of my past karmic existences."

"Well, old chap, I don’t know how to put this and I don’t want to sound bloody rude but…what happened to the lower half of your body?”

Lian was missing the lower half of his body and his face as well as one of his arms was encapsulated with shiny obsidian rock.

Lian floated effortlessly in mid-air and started to relate the events that transpired in the lake and his brief encounter with the iniquity of House Belahrus. When he had awoken from his meeting with the Goddess of Mercy he had found himself deep in the Under Sea in his current condition and his lungs half filled with briny water. The rest of his body, still in its colossal serpentine form was severed from his torso and lay shattered, half submerged in the murky sea bed in spiral shaped pieces. The construct that bested him had wanted to ensure that Lian’s demise was terminal and the option of resurrection impossible.

“Mehket’s gone. I’m sorry. But I have vowed to find him and rescue him from his captors. He left me this.” Holding up a luminous pearl of sheer exquisiteness, magic began to congregate around it casting sublime shafts of light to illuminate the room with buoyant splendor. Mehket’s voice, clear as the morning dew, sparkled from the gem, 

*“Lian, you must not try to find Mehket no more. Mehket sorry not to be able to restore Lian fully. It is too far from the sun. Mehket… Mehket is … dying, Lian... Very Cold...  Hungry. No pearls to eat. Mehket is with very, very bad men. Many demons.  Mehket no want you to die. Not for Mehket’s sake. Please,if Mehket must die, Mehket die alone. The Red Rogers points the way to death. Mehket give you this pearl with a Wish in it. May you use it wisely and make the world a better place.*

*You help Mehket tell Peter that Mehket loves him very much. Tell him, that Mehket is sorry for stealing things from greedy merchants and getting him into many trouble. Ask him to get new mount.  A better horsey mount or maybe a cutie pony mount who listens to him. Ask him to help Mehket say goodbye to Darius and all those back at the dojo. Mehket will miss all of you, my friends. All of Mehket’s Magnificent Seven.”*

Swordsman Jack who had been listening intently to all of this while clenching the head rest of a chair snapped it in half as the missive ended. Was there no end to his father’s evil? 

Putra sat in the corner, lost in the maddening visions of his own purgatory. 

Rage, anger and sadness swelled around the room in dizzying levels. Only an aura of calm radiating from Lian brought a prescient moment of clarity to the party. It was Lian who asked, 

“Where is Canter?”


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## xenoflare (Dec 25, 2003)

*yay!*

yay! update!

  Vow of Peace rocks.  we want more!

yours,
shao


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## Chasmodai (Dec 25, 2003)

Bueno excellente!

Let's go save that dragon!


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## Thomas Hobbes (Dec 25, 2003)

Mmm, updaty goodness.


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## neveryours (Dec 29, 2003)

*Canter*

Hmmm, perhaps Canter has gone out to take a walk? 

Sheepish grin.

Nice update...

Gray is so erm, Un-Gray?

Giggles.


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## FireLance (Dec 30, 2003)

I think I've stumbled upon the only predominantly Singaporean thread on ENWorld.  Hi, everyone!

Nice story hour.  My group's exploits are nowhere near as interesting since:

a. Our characters are low level (victims of many aborted campaigns); and
b. We are primarily focussed on killing monsters and grabbing their stuff.

Hope to hear more from you!


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## xenoflare (Dec 30, 2003)

*haha*



			
				FireLance said:
			
		

> I think I've stumbled upon the only predominantly Singaporean thread on ENWorld.  Hi, everyone!
> 
> Nice story hour.  My group's exploits are nowhere near as interesting since:
> 
> ...




Hallo fellow denizen of the deeps! 

  Pleased to see that we've got more SEAsians here on the mix ; hehe, we hope you'll stay for the ride. i'm currently developing an unhealthy habit of being petrified in most fights, despite having a good fortitude save, oh well - i may just go back to being low-level again. where do you game at? we're mostly tampines/ bedok east side people, with some representatives from sengkang and ang mo kio haha.

  Post your own story hour too! I would love to read more bout your exploits - let's try to push for an "Asian Renaissance" in DnD haha!

yours,
shao


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## Chasmodai (Dec 30, 2003)

xenoflare said:
			
		

> Vow of Peace rocks.





Maybe you want to retract this statement.

And hello FireLance! Great to hear from you and hope we'll hear more!

And brudder, don't shy lah. Make your own Story Hour. We'll be glad to read it.


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## xenoflare (Dec 31, 2003)

*funny funny haha*



			
				Chasmodai said:
			
		

> Maybe you want to retract this statement.
> 
> And hello FireLance! Great to hear from you and hope we'll hear more!
> 
> And brudder, don't shy lah. Make your own Story Hour. We'll be glad to read it.




hey, technically, it wasn't the vow of peace's fault that (spoiler spoiler) somebody got (spoiler spoiler). i mean, nobody gives it credit when it takes out (spoiler spoiler) but when it (spoiler spoiler), everybody (spoiler spoiler).

erm, time for update. oi, brujahbunny! quick!

yours,
shao


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## FireLance (Dec 31, 2003)

xenoflare said:
			
		

> where do you game at? we're mostly tampines/ bedok east side people, with some representatives from sengkang and ang mo kio haha.




I live in Bedok myself, but the rest of my gaming group lives all around the island.  We tend to game in the Cuppage Centre hawker centre (more centrally located) as a result.



> Post your own story hour too! I would love to read more bout your exploits - let's try to push for an "Asian Renaissance" in DnD haha!




There won't be much of an Asian flavour from my group, unfortunately.  One campaign started off in Rome on an alternate Earth (my character was from an unspecified Russian village).  The other, which I run, is in a generic medieval fantasy setting.


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## neveryours (Jan 1, 2004)

*Enjoyment*

Nice to see some off-topic chat.   

Anyway, Firelance, you don't necessarily need to have a game with an Asian flavour. It should just happen, espcially if your buddies would like something like that. But some Orientalism can be quite refreshing instead of the generic Dark Ages setting. It injects quite a bit of flavour into the roleplaying aspect of the game. I play the typical commercial liberalised tourist, who happens to often affect the very place that he wants, to visit, unaffected.

Our group sessions have some long sessions with no combat and just a lot of dialogue and interaction with each other. Sometimes, it leads to quite a bit of disharmony within the party. We try to work it out and it's quite fun sometimes. Other times, it's just tiring. However, it's all in the name of the game. 

Most importantly, have fun and enjoy your games.


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## neveryours (Jan 1, 2004)

*Where is Canter?*

Where is that halfwit of a traveller?

Grins


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## Gray (Jan 8, 2004)

*Hey*

Hey Guys....Sorry for not posting for quite long...hahaha....

Just came on to see if the next segment of the story has been posted by 'The One' but not yet..lol...

So i'll have to bite my nails in anticipation then. 

Yea..where did canter go anyway?.....n gray has turned a tad bit british. I say old chap....well i guess i'll try to pick up where Rai left off...hehe...

Reg.
Jeff

P/s Time fer an UPDATE?!


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## Chasmodai (Jan 12, 2004)

Fwah. Jeff posted. Not bad.

Anyway, this is my bi-weekly bump, to keep the story in people's attention. Of course, the best way to make this story in people's attention is to update.

Hint, hint?


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## xenoflare (Jun 12, 2004)

since the brujahbunny isn't updating (CURSE THOSE LARP STORYTELLER COMMITMENTS!), i'm officially hijacking this.

Yours,
shao


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