# Anger Now Be Your Song (updated 7/25/04)



## Tormenet (Jun 28, 2004)

Of arms I sing and the heroes
sing in me, Avasara
(You are the Creator, the One, the Unlimited, the Formless Truth)
and through me tell their story.

Tell first of whom we speak.  
speak of the heroes living in Shar Jehna.

Ajax
lawbreaker and orphan 
due to a Magistrate’s edict laboring in the lapis lazuli mines
drafted by One Thousand Commander Demaratus into a forlorn hope
the youth survived the ensuing butchery
and wandered alone in the mountains
until he was taken in by the benefactors of Shar Jehna.

Corum Hazar
student of mystery
youth of humble status in the Hazar tribe
curiously examining the deeper philosophies
student of the most learned mage of Shar Jehna
his mistress, Catrika, saw his eyes looking away from his formulae. 

Volgar Dost
feral warrior
son of the murdered headman of the Dost tribe
he saw his father’s hot blood forming rivulets in the mountain rock
and wandered alone in the mountains
(Save for a meeting that set his fate)
aching for a settling of scores
until he was taken in by the benefactors of Shar Jehna.

Cato of Jehna
servant of the Creator
attendant of the Sanctist of Shar Jehna
healer of the sick of Shar Jehna
his master, Naraka, saw his eyes looking away from the Sanctum.

Tell us now of where we speak
speak of Shar Jehna 
speak of frigid mountains, burning wastes, and fertile river valleys.

Shar Jehna
large town
home to three of the seven human Duranni tribes 
home to the Hazars, Afrids, and Nefrats, three of the seven tribes 
home to human descendants of the soldiers of Draco, the Leopard of Iona
(the great conqueror’s army came to Shar Jehna 
beaten by the burning wastes of the  Plain of Salt
the residents of Shar Jehna gave aid and were named Benefactors
the great emperor promised them autonomy and built their Sanctum
Draco of Iona left his wounded and disabled veterans in their care)  
home to the Paree, short and slim, graceful but frail, unearthly grace on their fine features
home to two hands of Orcs, beaten race, laboring for scant Nefrat coin.

Shar Jehna
set in the Darya River Valley 
a low place with frigid mountains, the Sind Killer Mountains, towering north and south
traveling one day east along the valley floor brought the tribesmen to Shar Heta
(For these were the Duranni tribes’ mountains)
home of the Tadu, one of the seven tribes
three more days east to the Nayak Falls
and dwelling above the giant folk who wished no contact with the tribes
traveling four days west following the river along the valley floor 
brought the tribesmen to a burning waste
a desert of rock mounds and boulders
a waste which drank the Darya until it ran dry into the unquenchable ground. 

Anger now be your song, Avasara
(You are the Creator, the One, the Unlimited, the Formless Truth)
doom and ruin
that caused the Duranni loss on bitter loss
and crowded brave souls into the Chaotic Abyss
leaving so many dead men—carrion
for dogs and birds; and the will of Avasara was done.

Begin it with the tribes first contending
broke with one another…


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## Felix (Jun 28, 2004)

Cato will finally be immortalized! After all, who is Achilles without his Homer?

Re: poll
There are only two reasons to write: for yourself, and for money. You arn't getting paid so you'd better like writing this way. As for myself, I find the verse interesting and original, so please do continue.


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## Tormenet (Jul 1, 2004)

*Drawing the Lines*

Last week Naram, the newly installed _qadi _ of Heta arrived raging at the fortified mud brick gateway that is Shar Jehna’s main entrance. 

Diyala, _qadi_ of Shar Jehna, was visibly stunned when her offer of hospitality was refused. 

Tired of unceasing revenge, the Duranni tribes long ago established the _qadi _ system. _Qadi_ are Duranni who exist outside the tribal structure. They are mediators and peacemakers, charged with judging crimes and ending vendettas. 

Naram was enraged beyond mediation, peacemaking, or even simple reason. He outlined his accusations. Three Tadu tribesmen of Shar Heta lay slain in a high pass. One of them, Lut Tadu, was the son of the headman of Heta’s gray council. According to two Tadu witnesses, reliable family men and seasoned warriors, the murderers were members of Shar Jehna’s Hazar and Afrid clans. 

 “Due to the importance of the slain men,” he yelled, “the Tadu tribe is justified in killing every Afrid and Hazar they can find for an unfixed period of time.” 

The watching crowd's muttering ceased. Naram’s judgment meant unlimited vendetta: no tribe member exempt, no restraint to the blood feud. Such words had not been spoken in at least a generation. 

That night Shar Jehna’s gray council met to decide the town’s response. 

Zidane Nefrat, leader of Sahr Jehna’s generally despised third tribe, immediately declared his follower’s neutrality. His words, expected by the Afrid and Hazar elders, drew curses from a few of the younger warriors present. The Nefrat had much to gain from Hazar and Afrid suffering. 

Thulyaar, head of Shar Jehna’s graceful featured Paree residents also bowed out of the fight. His words were saddening, but also expected. Isolationism was their way. 

Ixion, leader of those of Jehna’s residents who were descended from Draco’s veterans, declared his follower’s support for the Hazars and Afrids. 

“We are not of the tribes,” he said, “but when the army of the Leopard of Iona emerged from the Plain of Salt needing solace the benefactors of Shar Jehna gave it. Our debt is deep. We will see it repaid, Avasara willing.” 

His words were brave; his invocation of the Creator made them binding. But the declaration was acquired at great personal expense. Two Ionian notables, Epiphilates and Deinon, had bitterly contested the decision. Standing behind Ixion as he proclaimed his choice, the two men did not mask their bitterness.

Over the next few days, _Qadi_ Diyala desperately sought the source of the killings. Valuable warriors were sent out seeking information, but they failed to turn up anything useful. 

Then some Afrid goatherds were attacked by Tadu warriors in the defiles south of Shar Jehna. Injuries were minor; tempers frayed the desire for restraint. 

At sunset, New Year’s Eve, all of Jehna’s warriors were called out. Several large groups of Tadu spearmen were approaching the town. The night promised blood compensation.

The city’s notables quickly set about the task of assigning roles to their warriors.  

Seeking faces of marked by youth and inexperience, Brother Ismail, a Wearer of White and guardian of Shar Jehna’s Sanctum, pointed to four members of the crowd and bid them to follow him west- away from the approaching Tadu force. Turning into the setting sun, Ajax, Corum, Cato, and Volgar followed Ismail at a jog.


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## Tormenet (Jul 5, 2004)

*The Tadu attack and the plot grows complicated*

After a few minutes, Brother Ismail stopped at one of the goat-tracks that led into the mountains surrounding the Shar Jehna.  He turned and faced Cato; the two knew each other well from their work at the Sanctum.

“This trail widens a short distance from here,” Ismail said.  “At the far end you will see two narrow tracks. Anyone coming along them will not be from our town. Stay there until either the sun rises or I return.  Understood?”  

Cato nodded and motioned for the others to follow.

The sun was setting as they were entering the southern end of a gorge. It was about two hundred feet long. 

At the north end, forming a “Y” with the gorge, were the tracks the group was charged with guarding.  Along the gorge’s western side, about forty feet up a cliff face, ran another track. Thirty feet short of the left hand track, conveniently large enough to conceal a man, was a swelling of rock. About midway up the gorge a natural pillar of stone jutted upwards.  

Several of the low thorny scrub bushes common in the Sind Killer Mountains struggled for existence on the gorge’s floor.

Splitting up, the inexperienced warriors placed themselves where they felt best.  Corum Hazar spent a few moments climbing the stone pillar and went prone with his crossbow.  Volgar Dost found a spot behind the swelling of rock where he could see the right and left hand trails.  Ending up between the two, Ajax crouched down almost in the open.  

Behind them all Cato stood watching.

The setting sun was slowly replaced by a gloriously bright moon.

The stars were wheeling past the middle part of the night when, from the direction of Shar Jehna, Corum began hearing the sounds of fighting.  Glancing that way, the student wizard saw the distance suddenly flash bright and then go dark.    

Ajax ventured forward placing himself just next to where the left-hand trail met the gorge. He crouched into the shadows.

From his hiding spot atop the rock pillar, Corum saw movement in the trails. 

Coming down the left-hand trail were two Tadu warriors.  Both carried spears.  

Two more men- who obviously saw Ajax’s exposed back- were emerging from the trail on the right.  One of them, who had two dogs on leashes, shouted a warning to his fellows.  Then, smiling, the Tadu dropped the leashes.  The dogs, however, fiercely stood their ground. Smile evaporating, the man cursed the animals.

Snapping his head toward the shouted warning, Ajax saw the Tadus emerging from the right-hand trail. One sprinted toward him.  At the same time, the two at his front began jabbing at him with their spears.

Corum hurled a cantrip at the dogs. Just before the beasts’ muzzles, ethereal lights started flashing in and out of existence.  Deciding this was the reason their master was cursing them they attacked the foul lights with abandon.  Behind them, the Tadu dog handler’s vulgarities went up in pitch.

Rushing forward to aid Ajax, Volgar spotted two more Tadu warriors in the trail behind his companion’s assailants.  Clearly visible around one’s neck was a trinket exactly matching that worn by Cato.  Another of Avasara’s servants was joining the fight.  

Seeing Cato, the Tadu dog handler gave up on the fool animals and sprang into action.  He ran forward to one of the low, scrub bushes and aimed a crossbow at the rock Cato was using as shelter.  If Cato emerged, he was to be impaled by a bolt.

Amazed, Corum realized that none of the attackers had noticed him.  Aiming his crossbow at the man who was stalking Cato, he saw a clear shot.  However, Corum’s bolt missed so badly the man remained unaware that he was under attack.  

Working in tandem, Ajax and Volgar were quickly gaining the upper hand over their foes.  Two lay sprawled on the ground already.  Volgar now found himself confronting the young Tadu cleric.  Like most Duranni, he had a great respect for those who served the Creator. Slashing, Volgar hoped the man’s death would be quick.

Knowing he was being stalked, Cato popped his head out from behind the rock, wincing in anticipation of violent impact.  Instead, the Tadu cursed as his weapon fouled.  The man then jumped as a crossbow bolt sank into the ground between his feet.

Up on his perch, Corum hissed and reloaded.

Control of this fight was now definitely in the companion’s hands.

Bloodied, Ajax sank his short sword deep into the last remaining Tadu to his front. The man sighed heavily and dropped to the ground.

The dogs finally ceased their fruitless attacks on Corum’s lights.  As one, they seemed to spot Cato and they rushed toward this new foe at breakneck speed.  

Confident now that his first summoning was so effective, Corum reached out for anatmiya, the purest primal energy from which all matter derives, and pulled forth more of the present reality’s vigor. A small rodent appeared on the gorge floor and sped toward the Tadu with the broken crossbow.  Where bolts failed the beast succeeded. The man fell dead after being raked by the creature’s claws.

Now only the dogs remained.  They had Cato fighting for his life, back against the rock.  Volgar, Corum’s summoning, and a well placed rump shot from Corum’s crossbow quickly resolved the cleric’s predicament.

Seeing the situation well in hand, Ajax turned to begin looting the bodies.  To his mind, the blood seeping down his side entitled him to first pickings.

By chance, his eyes strayed to the high trail running along the gorge’s western wall.

There, face impassive as stone, lurked a humanoid form. The stranger was wearing a simple pair of gray pants and sleeveless shirt.  Each arm was covered in heavy black tattoos.

“There’s someone on the upper trail,” Ajax called out.

The others all turned, each feeling that they were being coldly assessed.

A loud boom rumbled in from the east as the fighting there reached its peak. 

Corum’s summoning scurried toward the humanoid.  The stranger snapped his arm and something sped toward the rodent.  The impact drove the creature back several feet and, at the end of its tumble, it lay bloody and still before fading back into unreality.

The stranger then made a quick gesture and stepped back, deftly melding into what little shadow there was on the ledge.

At the gesture, Cato crashed to the ground—white foam spewing from his mouth.  At the same time, Ajax cried out in alarm as the figure he was looting reached out for his throat.


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## Tormenet (Jul 7, 2004)

*Touched and a murder*

Ajax drove his weapon into the corpse.  Even with a _xiphos_ pinning it to the ground, the creature tried to push itself up.  The hit was telling though and the creature again collapsed to the dust.

Confusion reigned as the companions watched their butchered foes rise. 

The reanimated Tadu student’s holy symbol flashed blue and fell away from his neck. Of all the slain warriors, the vileness of this magic rested most plainly upon Avasara’s former servant.  Melting away into a thick, black ichor, his eyes streamed down his cheeks, their hollow sockets taking on a dim black glow.  

Wiping his mouth, Cato rose.  Feeling both sick and elated he called forth the order inherent in Avasara’s creation.

“Avasara cast Sin into the Chaotic Abyss. Return to its seething waters. Return to your torment.”

At his final words, a palpable force hurled from his person.  Washing around the companions it seemed to slam into the undead. Obviously overwhelmed by it, the dead turned and began to flee.

Again, the friends worked butchery on their foes, cutting down the fleeing abominations.  

After lopping the head from the last of the creatures, Volgar turned to his companions. Happily, he saw the dawn pushing its way into the sky.  

From the east came only silence.  For good or ill, the night’s fighting was complete. The new year was born.

The group laid out the dead Tadus, giving special care to the defiled priest.

“I’m coming up the trail,” came Ismail’s voice.  The man’s eyes were red from a sleepless night and his left arm bore a couple of minor gashes.

“We beat them off,” he reported. His eyes surveyed the four Tadu corpses.  His face took on an aspect of concern as his gaze passed over Cato. 

“What has passed, Student?” he asked.

“I was touched,” Cato reported. “A crushing weight fell upon me and I vomited a white foam.”   

Cato was thinking of a passage in the _Recitations of Arrousha_, the holy scrolls of the Eternal Faith.  The scripture, a collection of the Prophet's words compiled by several people of impeccable memory and honesty who knew her, served as the primary guide for all of Avasara’s followers. 

Apparently thinking the same thing, Ismail spoke in the archaic dialect of the Median Empire, the language of Arrousha. 

“All the trusted inheritors agree: When having insights into the present reality Arrousha sometimes appeared as if a heavy rock was crushing her chest.  Other times she spoke of bells whose loud ringing deafened her for days. Most often, she would collapse to the ground and convulse, foam issuing from her mouth,” Ismail said. There was some awe in his voice.

Then he continued, quoting another source: “In his commentaries, Nafuna the Ifriqiyan adds: ‘Once Arrousha was struck with insight into Avasara’s creation and her flesh crawled as if insects moved within her.  I was the only witness to this.’ ”

Cato nodded, “I suddenly understood how to inspire fear in the walking dead.” He told the night’s tale.

Switching back to the Duranni tongue Ismail said, “You must speak to Sanctist Naraka about this, his knowledge of such things is deeper than mine.” 

His businesslike tone reasserted itself.

“Have the _ferenghi_ bring the body of our deceased brother.  Naraka should see that as well.” Distracted, Ismail referred to Ajax using a derogatory word for outsiders.

Cato and Ajax picked up the corpse of the Tadu cleric and the companions followed Ismail back to Shar Jehna.

Approaching the town, they saw wisps of smoke rising from one of the fortified homesteads sitting outside Shar Jehna’s perimeter.  Realizing that this was the home of Zidane Nefrat, Corum arched an eyebrow.  The Nefrat leader had clearly announced his tribe’s neutrality in this vendetta.  The Tadu were fools for burning the building.  Zidane would be justified in joining the Afrid and Hazar tribes.  Not that he would, but now there would be pressure from his fellow tribesmen.

Before Shar Jehna’s main gate, in the space that served as the marketplace, crowds of Duranni warriors celebrated and boasted of their accomplishments.  Snatches of “…how I hit that Tadu in the arse…” and “…so I carved ‘take that’ into my sling bullets just to really ram home my point…” drifted past the companions.  About twenty bodies lay in a line, blankets covering them.   Further along was a pile of Tadu corpses, about thirty in all.

Looking around, Cato noted a small knot of Ionian warriors.  The set of their shoulders did not speak of joy over the town’s victory.  

Asking Volgar to aid Ajax in taking the body to the Sanctum, Cato and Corum went to the Ionians.

Smiling Cato patted one man on the shoulder.  “Congratulations,” he smiled.

“Aye, sure,” the man replied. “A great win, and with Ixion slain it’s a victory to leave a foul taste in your mouth.”

“What?” Cato said.  This was alarming news.  In the power struggle that was sure to follow, Epiphilates was most likely to assume the leadership of Shar Jehna’s Ionians.  Epiphilates was sure to seek a truce with the Tadu, probably offering blood-payment for any warriors slain by Ionians. 

“That’s right,” the Ionian warrior continued, “we found his remains with at least ten arrows sticking out.  His head was gone too and that we couldn’t find.”


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## Tormenet (Jul 10, 2004)

*In Shar Jehna*

Looking at the row of corpses, Cato asked, “Which one is it?”

“Huh? No, boy, it’s not there,” the man replied. “They’ve taken it to his wife. All the Ionian notables have gone to his home.”

Thanking the man, Cato briskly headed in the direction of Shar Jehna’s Ionian district.  His pace had Corum nearly jogging to keep up.

They quickly passed through the town’s main gate, under the ceremonial kiosk where the local ruler, Ishfahan Hazar, could stand, see, and be seen.   

Just inside the gate they glanced into the long one-room, one-story house that provided shelter for guests of the town.  It also served as a community house where men could socialize, share stories, and discuss business.  Today it was bustling with battered looking Duranni warriors boasting of their exploits during the night’s conflict.  They sat drinking _chai_ in large circles on comfortable rugs, with various men seeking to talk louder than their comrades and thus be the center of attention. 

Shar Jehna’s simple one or two story mud brick buildings were built claustrophobically close to one another.  The walls of the town’s outer houses served double duty as a protective perimeter and were slightly thickened to better serve that purpose.  Functionally the main town was really three tribal compounds and the Ionian district.  Just to the south east was a second compound that was home to the Paree.  

Cato and Corum were quickly consumed by a mass of men and woman going about any number of tasks along Shar Jehna’s main thoroughfare.  The street was barely wide enough for a cart. It wound its way from the main gate to the town’s gray stone Sanctum.  

Passing the gate that gave access to the Nefrat compound, Cato felt immense frustrations at the tribal system. A couple of Nefrat warriors sat cross-legged drinking _chai _ on a small rug to one side of the gate, their spears leaning on the gate’s frame. Duranni men had no interest in spit and polish. They were proud warriors, not show pieces.

The entrance to the Ionian district lay close to the Sanctum and Cato eyed the spiritual structure, his home, as he turned toward the unguarded Ionian gate.       

The place of worship was constructed of rock hewn from the mountains that towered around the town.  Its massive size, the Sanctum could hold five hundred worshippers at one time, was far beyond any other structure in the Darya River Valley.  It was a gift to the town from Draco himself, built by the engineers of his army as thanks to the residents of Shar Jehna for their hospitality.  

Cato desperately wanted to go and aid his master, Sanctist Naraka, in tending to the many wounded from the previous night.  However, he felt it important to visit the home of Ixion, the slain Ionian leader.  Cato’s brother, Deinon, was sure to be there.  

The streets became tighter as Corum and Cato plunged into the Ionian District.  However, Cato knew the route well and he deftly steered them to Ixion’s home.  The two-story structure was large and built around a private courtyard like most of the homes of Shar Jehna’s influential people.  However, the entranceway that gave access to the structure was blocked.  Two Ionian fighters stood watching Cato’s approach.  The town was small enough that they recognized one of the Sanctum’s students, though they did not know him personally.

“What can we do for you?” one of the guards asked.

“I wish to pay my respects to Ixion’s family,” Cato replied.

“The family is in mourning and wishes for solitude,” the man said, “I will pass along your sentiments…”

“…Cato,” the student filled in.  The man’s tone was delivering a polite, but clear message—go away. 

Taking the hint, Cato and Corum turned toward the Sanctum.  They were young and today the Ionian powers of Shar Jehna would begin competing for Ixion’s position.  There was no time for a minor servant of Avasara.

The hand of Santist Naraka showed clearly at the Sanctum.  A chaotic influx of wounded warriors and concerned relatives was being sorted on the outer steps.  Entering the main pillared Great Hall, Cato could see neat rows of injured and his fellow students and reciters moving among them, wrapping wounds and applying poultices to some, transferring the grace of Avasara to others who were in more desperate need.  

_(DM's note: A reciter is someone who has memorized the entire text of the Recitiations of Arrousha, the Eternal Faith's revealed text.) _ 

Ajax and Volgar were moving along with Reciter Aeschylus, Cato’s direct mentor, following the healer’s instructions.  Another sign of Naraka at work.  The two had been sent to deliver the defiled body of the Tadu cleric to the Sanctist.  That job complete, the man had immediately drafted them.  

Cato spotted Naraka immediately. Sanctist Naraka was the most scrupulous man Cato had ever met. He was also one of the most intelligent, though he could occasionally be quite intimidating.  Now was one of those times.

“You send me odd presents, Cato,” he said.  Nearby lay the body of the Tadu cleric, vile black liquid soaking its clothes where blood should have been.

Cato opened his mouth to answer, but Naraka had little interest.

“Get to work, and have your friend help,” he snapped.  

After a short while, Corum interrupted Cato’s ministrations.

“Look, your doing a great job,” he said. “I’m going to leave and check on my mistress.”

Taking Cato’s grunt as his assent, Corum, accompanied by Ajax who found tending to other’s wounds a little like actual work, quickly left the Sanctum and headed into the Hazar compound which, like the Ionian district, bordered the Sanctum’s grounds.  He wound his way through the narrow streets to the Hazar Gate and exited the town.  

He felt relief as he saw the home of his teacher Catrika of Jehna.  It sat alone and he had feared that its vulnerable placement may have resulted in its being burned.  

His fears were not born out.  Indeed, the little garden his mistress kept gave no sign of anyone stepping on her precious plants.  As always, several half-feral cats sat lazily around the house not bothering to show any interest in him.  Knocking, he received a quick response.

“Corum! I’m glad to see your safe,” she called through the closed door.  “Come in.”

Opening the door, Corum found his teacher seated at her table.  Scrolls were neatly stored all around the room and she had one pinned open on the table before her.  She leaned close to the document, candle light and strained eyesight making it difficult for her to see.  Though in the middle part of her life, she remained an object of interest to many of the town’s men.  She had no use for any of them other than as sources of information.  

It was rumored that once a Duranni, a Nefrat if Corum recalled correctly, had boasted that he would kidnap her, according to time honored custom, and make her his wife.  A few days later, his body was found at the base of the town’s Pillar of Silence awaiting its death rites.  Some in the Hazar compound claimed they had heard much hissing of cats from the direction of her home the night before.

“By the way,” she asked, “did you finish those equations I gave you last week?”

Thrown, Corum answered without guile.  

“Not yet.”

She looked up from her scrolls, one eyebrow arching.  

The only actual scholar living in the Darya River Valley, Catrika’s mathematical equations— particularly those pertaining to area— were respected in the Academies in civilized places like Bastiyaan and Sind.  Since Corum’s interests tended towards less dry subjects he found such assignments the hardest to complete.

“Tomorrow,” he said.  He accompanied the word with a wide grin.

The diplomatic gesture bounced right off the sage.

“We’ll see,” she said.  Her eyes went back to the scroll.

“Mistress…,” Corum started.

“Ahh, now we get to the purpose of your visit,” she interrupted.  Looking up again, she sat up straight in her chair.  Corum was lax in his assignments, but she knew he would not interrupt her without purpose.

Corum, with Ajax providing occasional details, outlined their encounter with the mysterious humanoid and the walking dead.

As they finished their tale, she rolled up the scroll she had been reading.  Grabbing a bone stylus and a wax covered wooden writing tablet she had them sit and began asking questions.

Two hours later, an exhausted Ajax stood outside the small home enjoying the feeling of fresh, cold mountain air in his lungs.  _Who cares if there was mud on the stranger’s boots?_ he thought.  Catrika’s questioning had been both extensive and perceptive.  Unfortunately, she had provided no immediate knowledge to aid them.  

It was passing midday and they had not slept now for more than a day, but Ajax and Corum decided to return to the Sanctum and meet up with Volgar and Cato.


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## threshel (Jul 12, 2004)

I dig it.  It has a strong flavor of civilization BC.  I came here because I signed up for your game at the ENWorld gameday, and now I can't wait!  Especially if it's set in the same world as this story.


J


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## Tormenet (Jul 13, 2004)

threshel said:
			
		

> I dig it.  It has a strong flavor of civilization BC.  I came here because I signed up for your game at the ENWorld gameday, and now I can't wait!  Especially if it's set in the same world as this story.
> 
> 
> J




Threshel:

Welcome! Many thanks for the kind words about the setting. You will be seeing more of it during the DC-MD-VA ENWorld gameday. (Insert foreboding theme music here.)  It draws heavily on the Hellenistic world, particularly the Greek-Bactrian kingdom in Afghanistan, circa 300 BC. Stick around and watch how things develop, I hope you'll be amused.

Tormenet


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## Fimmtiu (Jul 13, 2004)

More, please! There can never be enough well-done historical D&D.


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## Tormenet (Jul 13, 2004)

*A Days Rest?*

Just for you, Fimmtiu.

* * * * *

As they passed through the Hazar Gate into Shar Jehna a warrior told Ajax and Corum the announcement from the town’s Grey Council.  The dead were to be honored at sunrise.  The rest of the day would be a celebration of the victory.

Ajax staggered his way back to the small hovel he shared with Volgar and a few others.  Volgar was already there, snoring.  Ajax fell on the goat-hair blanket that served as his bed and dreamt disturbing dreams.

At sunrise Cato participated in obligatory prayers and then helped take the town’s dead to the Pillar of Silence.  The stone needle reached into the sky.  It was hollow inside save for a staircase and multiple window-like openings.  Sanctist Naraka made his way up the stairs, hanging a rope bound corpse out each window where its flesh would be stripped by birds.  Later, Cato would help break the stripped bones into powder.  It was a ritual whose meaning was lost in time.

Watching from outside, Ajax reflected that the barbaric mountain dwellers ritual would be a good way to ensure that dead men did not try to grab him.

Following the solemn ceremony celebrations erupted.  

Stern faced warriors broke out kites and gambled on competitions where two adversaries sought to cut each other’s kite stings.  Ajax watched this for a while then began betting on the games.  He ended the session in possession of two goats, a chicken, and a small pile of spears.  He took these Duranni treasures to an Ionian descended merchant named Duros and exchanged them for Bastiyaani silver drachmas.

Near the town’s main gate, a young poet named Medhi Hazar recited a tale about how Draco employed the unusual method of flying a kite to a city wall to measure the distance needed for a tunnel.  Once the tunnel was complete, elite Ionian troopers entered the city and seized its gates.

Goat meat was cooked over goat dung fires and served with flat bread.  It was a mildly irresponsible use of precious food just prior to winter, but joy in surviving the night’s fighting overrode practicality.

Nefrat warriors scowled at first, but eventually they joined in the celebration.  Horses were brought and a goat was killed.  The goat’s body was placed in the center of a large field and two teams gleefully punched each other as they sought to retrieve the corpse to their end of the field.  During this goat-game Volgar exchanged less than friendly blows with Zalmai Nefrat, son of the Nefrat headman.

Sitting in his home, Corum tried to focus on his mathematics.  He failed. His half-brother Torum went missing during the fight with the Tadu. His mother moved around their one-room mud brick home in a stupor.  She appeared intoxicated. Small strips of oiled-cloth found in her sleeping blanket containing some form of ground root with a bitter odor seemed to confirm this impression. In her torment, Corum repeatedly heard her muttering a single word: “shayteen.” He knew neither the language nor the reference.

In the Sanctum, Naraka sat with Cato.  

“I’ve had a request from a herder, Afsheen Hazar,” the Sanctist said. “His herd is being raided and he wishes the Sanctum’s intervention.  I want you to visit him and provide assistance.”

Cato moved to face his teacher.  He was interrupted before his protests left his lips.

“None of that, boy,” Naraka said. “This man is asking for our aid and it will be given.  That is our task. Leave the vendetta to the Gray Council.  I’ve already talked to Ishfahan Hazar and he has released the boy Corum Hazar to me.  I want you to take Volgar Dost and that Bastiyaani robber, Ajax, you’ve been advising.”

Cato made the arrangements, then went to spend the evening with his sister Alexandra.  His family’s large compound sat just south of the main town.  Cato’s older brother, Deinon, was glowing with excitement.  He would say nothing of his news, but since he was a close friend to Epiphilates it was easy to guess that the Ionians had decided who would replace the murdered Ixion.

In the emerging light of dawn, the four companions gathered at the town’s Sanctum.  They exited the town and turned west, making the short trip to the goat trail they had defended.  Pushing their way up the trail, past the gorge where they fought, and into the heights of the Sind Killer Mountains, their legs quickly began to burn with exertion.

A hard journey lay ahead.


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## Tormenet (Jul 16, 2004)

*Grymirri*

The group wound their way north through gorge, pass, and peak.  The goat-trails were so treacherous that at times the companions were forced to rope themselves together.  The Sind Killer Mountains did not prohibit passage, but the range certainly funneled travelers along a limited number of routes.

Volgar Dost easily located the small hovel that the goatherd Afsheen Hazar called home.  

The elderly tribesman sat them on a dingy blanket outside his home, served water, and slaughtered a goat.  Duranni hospitality demanded no less; regardless, the companions were moved by the man’s gift. The meat was welcome after their trail rations: globs of rancid goat fat thinned with water and then soaked into hard bread.

The group made small talk during their meal, ethics allowed no discussion of business while eating.  Afterwards Afsheen quickly related his tale of missing animals and beastly tracks.

_Grymirri_, Volgar thought.  The Dost warrior instantly recognized the creatures from the Hazar’s description.  The blind, humanoid beasts were a plague to the Dost tribe, disappearing into their caves for months or years then suddenly bursting forth to raid.

That night, with Afsheen Hazar and his wife safely inside their mud brick home, the companions lay in ambush.  Morning came without incident.

The four gathered in a steep sloped gorge to discuss their next move.  

In a blur, Ajax was down on the ground— pinned beneath a muscular humanoid.  

Paralyzed with surprise, Corum noted the attacker’s gray skin, pupiless white eyes, and greasy white hair.  The young Hazar watched as Cato charged and was knocked aside by the attacker’s primitive axe.  Volgar’s own axe, made of good iron, intercepted a downward stroke aimed at the face of Ajax, who lay gasping for air under the creature’s crushing weight.

Recovering, Corum momentarily bent creation to his will.  Volgar and the beast froze and dropped to the ground.  

A slight snore passed the Dost warrior’s lips.

Pinned, Ajax shook Volgar.  The warrior shifted slighty, opened his eyes, then blinked. 

“Get off me,” Ajax said.

Volgar stood, straddled the sleeping beast, lined up, and split the Grymirri’s skull.  Tooth, bone, and fluids splattered the companions.

From his vantage on the ground, Ajax noted a cave opening twenty-feet up the wall of the gorge.

Grins all around, the group broke out a rope.

Past the cavern’s entrance, they quickly found the remains of a man.  Strips of the deceased’s flesh had been sliced away; one arm had clearly been gnawed.  

Volgar went through the man’s belt pouches and found soiled piece of cured animal skin.  He could make no sense of the markings and handed it to Ajax, who then passed it to Student Cato.

Cato read the Ionian words: "D, The last batch had some use. Press harder for more. The beasts are causing us some difficulty. We need more aggressive measures from your end."

_(DM’s note: Nod to Old One for the use of initials rather than names: as a player, very annoying; as a DM, highly satisfactory.)_

Disinclined to care about the dead messenger’s business, the group moved further into the cave, toward the sound of rushing water.

Torches revealed a widening in the cave with water slewing in from above.  The room was a pool of water that surged violently as it sought an exit. Just to the left of the waterfall was a dark tunnel opening.  

Gingerly, Ajax tested the water.  It was frigid. It was a little more than thigh deep.

Crossing the pool, getting a through drenching, the convicted thief toyed with an idea.  Poets always said great treasures lay behind waterfalls.  

He looked across the way at his friends. The roaring water drowned out his voice. He drew his _xiphos _ and hinted at his idea. Volgar looked amused.  Corum grinned.  Cato’s expression said that he would prefer for Ajax get on with business.

Ajax gingerly pushed his weapon through the water.  The iron blade found no resistance, other than the deluge of water trying to pull it from Ajax’s grasp.

Triumph lit Ajax’s features.  Shivering, he crossed back to Corum and had the arcanist infuse the _xiphos_’ blade with thaumaturgic light.  Swaggering as best as he could as he crossed back to the waterfall, Ajax threw a playful look at the others.

Volgar nodded him on.  Corum flicked his hands in a “go” gesture.  Cato’s face was changing to a scowl, he motioned Ajax back.

There was a moment of impact as water pounded Ajax and he was through.

A place that had known no brightness for eons glistened as the light made shadows among the damp rock.  

A few feet from Ajax, a Grymirri hurled itself from its pallet.  In a motion, it threw an axe at the shocked Ionian thief.


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## Tormenet (Jul 25, 2004)

*A fight and more complications*

The stone head of the weapon ripped into Ajax’s shoulder blade as he flung himself back through the waterfall.

On the other side, Volgar saw the Ajax tumble into the whirlpool.  Then a Grymirri pushed its way through the waterfall, then another, and another.

“Dost!” the warrior yelled.  Axe in hand he leapt into the water and began trading blows with his adversaries. Ajax scrabbled at the water, trying to get out of the way. 

Cato’s mace impacted on the knuckles of one of the creatures. Its axe flung from its grip.  Volgar’s axe replaced it and the creature howled as a hand sank into the black water. Finding his feet, Ajax thrust his _xiphos _ into the creature’s back.

Axe and mace, iron and magic quickly felled the other two creatures.

Pushing through the waterfall, the companions found a single chamber with four piles of mold covered goat skins.  The odor of rotting meat was close to overpowering.  Quickly, the group searched the beds. They found little of practical value— a few silver _drachma_ that a Grymirri had deemed worthless.

The cavern’s cold had the group shivering.  They pushed through the waterfall once again and explored a few unoccupied chambers.  A lengthy tunnel that seemed, after a great distance, to open into the light beckoned them. 

However, group consensus was the Grymirri problem was resolved- four beds, four dead beasts.  They went back to see the goatherd.

Afsheen Hazar rejoiced at the news. Cato picked the moment to broach the subject of the goatherd returning to Shar Jehna in the group’s protection.  The unlimited vendetta made the Hazar and his family a target.  

Afsheen rejected Cato’s every argument. His goats could not pasture in the Darya River Valley.  No Tadu would venture this high into the mountains to kill an old man.  His wife was too old to inspire a bride-theft.  This place was his home.

Dejected, Cato decided to seek Sanctist Naraka’s advice.  Bidding Afsheen and his wife goodbye, the four young men headed south, back down out of the mountains.

Approaching Shar Jehna’s mud brick Darya Gate, Ajax noticed a man who met his gaze and deliberately held it.  The man scratched his ear and then mopped his face with his hand.  

“I’m really exhausted,” Ajax said to Cato.  “I’m going to go get some sleep.”

Cato shrugged and plodded on.  He was trying to phrase his report to Naraka.

Inside the Darya Gate, Ajax accompanied the others along the narrow main throughfare through the town.  The buildings to either side were constructed so they blocked any exit from the street, unless it was through one of the interior gates into a section of the town controlled by a tribe or the Ionians.  Ajax turned right into the Ionian gate and let his friends continue on towards the Sanctum.  

Once they passed out of sight, he hurried back toward the Darya Gate.

Cato’s trepidation built as he marched up the Sanctum’s stone stairs.  His shoulders went back as he walked into the Sanctum’s cool interior.  His eyes took a moment to adjust to the light.  

The form standing in front of him resolved itself into Sanctist Naraka. The man was contentedly sipping from a leather cup filled with green tea, a Sindi commodity.

“The goatherd refused to return with us,” Cato said.

“What?!” Naraka shouted.  The tea cup flew across the room and bounced off a wall.

“We solved the problem with his herd, but he did not wish to return to Shar Jehna,” Cato said.  His voice remained even.

“You fo…” Naraka took a deep breath. “Go back and get him.  Tell him that is my personal request.  We have Hazar and Afrid tribesmen coming in from the outlying areas.  They are too many for the town’s food stores.  We will need his herd to get through the winter.”

Stung, Cato turned to Corum and Volgar.  

“Tomorrow,” Corum said. He smiled, but his legs burned at the thought of another hike.

Volgar grunted agreement.

Outside of town, Ajax made his way toward the Darya River.  On its bank was the fortified homestead of Duros.  Since Ajax’s arrival in Shar Jehna, the merchant had provided Ajax with a meager source of income discreetly delivering small packages.  Ajax did not ask questions; Duros never offered answers.

At the homestead's entranceway, an Ionian man stood wearing Durrani-style trousers and boots.  A baldric supporting a xiphos was slung over his shoulder.  The man’s muscles were well defined, in the way idealized by Ionian poets.

“Bull,” Ajax nodded.

“Boy,” the man returned.

Ajax pushed through the heavy carpet that hung over the doorway.  In the mountains, few could afford to waste wood on doors.

Corum made his way to Catrika’s home.  He told her about the Grymirri in the mountains and asked her opinion. She told him that Grymirri usually stayed in their subterranean realm. Violations of the creature’s holy sites were usually the key impetus behind conflicts between the beasts and the Duranni tribes. 
Corum was certain the filthy room behind the waterfall was no holy site.

Catrika also said that she and Naraka discussed the situation of the walking dead. Catrika recalled reading a document that quoted a document that reported an oral history relating “the power of Avasara repelled the _shayateen_” and “the wicked arts of the Perfect People.” She said she saw it while in the company of Kakanda, a Sindi poet and storyteller. Her last contact with Kakanda was a letter he sent a year ago from Purushanda, a city well east of Jehna. 

Meanwhile, Volgar returned to the home where he resided with Ajax.  He was mildly surprised to see that the young Ionian was not there.  Volgar lay down on his own blanket.  He had secrets of his own and did not care to pry into those of another. Yet.


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