A lethal job offer (long)

A half-giant gate guardian briefly inspects your belongings before allowing you to pass.

Merchant's Road [N, S]
Leading to the north and south is Merchant's Road, its dusty surface
hardpacked dirt, pocked with the ruts worn by passing wagons. Short, squat
buildings line both sides of the road, the majority of them empty and
abandoned. Towering above the buildings to the south is the cruelly curved
rim of Tektolnes' Arena, and beyond that the golden glitter of his Tower.
A glossy black and orange beetle has arrived from the south.


Merchant's Road [N, S]
Leading to the north and south is Merchant's Road, its dusty surface
hardpacked dirt, pocked with the ruts worn by passing wagons. Short, squat
buildings line both sides of the road, the majority of them empty and
abandoned. Towering above the buildings to the south is the cruelly curved
rim of Tektolnes' Arena, and beyond that the golden glitter of his Tower.
A glossy black and orange beetle has arrived from the south.


Merchant's Road [N, S]
Leading to the north and south is Merchant's Road, its dusty surface
hardpacked dirt, pocked with the ruts worn by passing wagons. Short, squat
buildings line both sides of the road, the majority of them empty and
abandoned. Towering above the buildings to the south is the cruelly curved
rim of Tektolnes' Arena, and beyond that the golden glitter of his Tower.
A glossy black and orange beetle has arrived from the south.


Merchant's Road [N, S]
Leading to the north and south is Merchant's Road, its dusty surface
hardpacked dirt, pocked with the ruts worn by passing wagons. Short, squat
buildings line both sides of the road, the majority of them empty and
abandoned. Towering above the buildings to the south is the cruelly curved
rim of Tektolnes' Arena, and beyond that the golden glitter of his Tower.
An empty dusty reddish clay jug sits here.
A glossy black and orange beetle has arrived from the south.


Merchant's Road [N, S]
Leading to the north and south is Merchant's Road, its dusty surface
hardpacked dirt, pocked with the ruts worn by passing wagons. Short, squat
buildings line both sides of the road, the majority of them empty and
abandoned. Towering above the buildings to the south is the cruelly curved
rim of Tektolnes' Arena, and beyond that the golden glitter of his Tower.
A glossy black and orange beetle has arrived from the south.


Merchant's Road [N, S, W]
Leading to the west and south as it executes an agile turn is
Merchant's Road, its dusty surface made of hardpacked dirt, pocked with the
ruts worn by passing wagons. Short squat buildings line both sides of the
road, the majority of them empty and abandoned. Towering above the
buildings to the southwest is the cruelly curved rim of Tektolnes' Arena,
and beyond that the golden glitter of his Tower.
A broad courtyard packed with slaves hauling bags of salt opens on the
north side of the road.
A large dung filled cart stands off on the side of the path.
An armored woman with blue pigtailed hair stands here, expression stern.
The light, argent-cropped man is standing here.
A one-armed, grey-bearded man stands here, next to a dung-filled cart.
A glossy black and orange beetle has arrived from the south.

You suffer from use of the Way.
The figure in a dusty hooded, drab yellow sandcloth dustcloak clumsily hauls his mounts out of the road, bending in an awkward bow in his saddle.

180/180 hp 42/42 mana 84/154 mv 135/160 stun unarmed>skills
Psionic powers
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contact (apprentice) barrier (apprentice)

Combat skills
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dual wield (novice) throw (journeyman)
shield use (novice) two handed (novice)

Weapon skills
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piercing weapons (novice) slashing weapons (novice)

Stealth skills
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sneak (apprentice) hide (apprentice)
climb (advanced)

Manipulation skills
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steal (novice) pick (apprentice)
ride (novice)

Perception skills
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peek (novice) listen (novice)
forage (apprentice) direction sense (journeyman)
watch (novice)

Barter skills
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haggle (novice)

Language skills
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sirihish (master) southern accent

Craft skills
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knife making (novice) cooking (apprentice)
spearmaking (novice) armor repair (novice)


[MORE]
analyze (novice)

The light, argent-cropped man looks up at you.

The light, argent-cropped man pauses where he strolls, taking in the sight of you.

You lower the hood of your dusty hooded, drab yellow sandcloth dustcloak.

The light, argent-cropped man says to the petite, blue-pigtailed woman, in sirihish:
"My, that one's foreboding."

The petite, blue-pigtailed woman looks up at you.

The squat, barrel-shaped half-giant turns his head, coughing up some drool and dust, before tugging his cloth carrying-sling closed.

Calling out across the road at you, the light, argent-cropped man asks you, in sirihish:
"Say, you over there. You look remarkably foreboding, did you know that?"

You send a telepathic message to the blonde, mocha-skinned woman:
"Fale Lord. Moment."

Flinching at being addressed, you say, in sirihish:
"Good, uh word. I just job, Lord."

You are carrying:
a large bag
a few dusty small sandstone boulders

Eyes widening with startled expression, the light, argent-cropped man says to you, in sirihish:
"Jab? Who ever did you jab? I would imagine your spear is still impaling their face. My goodness, that must have been terribly bloody."

The light, argent-cropped man exclaims to the petite, blue-pigtailed woman, in sirihish:
"He didn't mean he intends to jab me, I very much hope!"

Hand on the pommel of her scimitar, the petite, blue-pigtailed woman says to the light, argent-cropped man, in sirihish:
"I'll protect you, m'Lord."

Mumbling quickly, disconcerted, you say, in sirihish:
"Not jab, cause rock is bette... uh... I ..."

Covering his mouth in a show of shock, the light, argent-cropped man asks you, in sirihish:
"Oh my. You mean to say that you crushed their very face in with a mere rock?"

Quickly, and more clearly as if practiced, you exclaim, in sirihish:
"Go Allanak! Go Arm!"

The light, argent-cropped man says to the petite, blue-pigtailed woman, in sirihish:
"They must look like a puddle of jelly by now."

The squat, barrel-shaped half-giant bobs his head, gesturing to the broken-skulled gortok laid across his saddlehorn.

The light, argent-cropped man turns to regard your saddlehorn.

You send a telepathic message to the blonde, mocha-skinned woman:
"Shit. He's talking to me."

Blinking several times, the light, argent-cropped man says to you, in sirihish:
"That's no beast which roams our lands. You've come from very far away, I should think."

The light, argent-cropped man decidedly strolls closer to the half-giant, shielded beneath his delicate, amethyst silk parasol.

Paling, dropping his gaze, you say, in sirihish:
"Uh, I work. I bringing job stuff back, Lord. I bringing it now for the aide little."

The light, argent-cropped man asks you, in sirihish:
"Why the dickens would a little aide want you to bring such a mangy looking beast as that from Highlord knows what far and distant lands?"

Both the dead tok and the squat, barrel-shaped half-giant reek, although he seems oblivious to it.

Flinching again, you exclaim, in sirihish:
"She say.. uh... bring few things, and meats and stuff dont got down here. So I did!"

The light, argent-cropped man, on the other hand, seems only too aware of the stench, and decidedly continues his conversation with a fold of his robe sleeve held to his nose.

Speaking around a sleeve fold from his huge, green-trimmed purple silk robe, the light, argent-cropped man asks you, in sirihish:
"Don't go down where?"

You send a telepathic message to the blonde, mocha-skinned woman:
"Just north of east gate, inside. He likes your tok."

A foreign presence contacts your mind.

The blonde, mocha-skinned woman sends you a telepathic message:
"My... tok?"

Mouth veiled from the fold of purple cloth, the light, argent-cropped man says to the petite, blue-pigtailed woman, in sirihish:
"He probably means the sewers."

Clearly uncomfortable, eyes still down, you say, in sirihish:
"Uh, meats not eat here. Not like the slugs. "

The petite, blue-pigtailed woman silently bobs her head, watching you.

Venturing, you say, in sirihish:
"Does the Lord want a slug? I got some salt for to eat it right."

The blonde, mocha-skinned woman sends you a telepathic message:
"I'll come over then."

You send a telepathic message to the blonde, mocha-skinned woman:
"I bring you a dead tok."

Nodding high up at you, the light, argent-cropped man asks you, in sirihish:
"A slug from beneath the city? Is that where you found this furry creature as well?"

The squat, barrel-shaped half-giant digs into one of his leather bags.

You open your dusty leather tool bag.

The squat, barrel-shaped half-giant collects something wriggling from a mass of greenish plant matter.

You get your fat slug from your dusty leather tool bag.
It is very light.


Inching back a pace in his pair of fuzzy, purple and green kank slippers, the light, argent-cropped man says to you, in sirihish:
"Goodness, no. You keep that darling little beast for yourself, that's quite alright."

Holding out a greying slug in offer, you say, in sirihish:
"Slug from here, tok from.... oh."

Spoken through the fabric of his robe sleeve, the light, argent-cropped man asks you, in sirihish:
"Tok, you say? Is that not known as a gortok?"

The squat, barrel-shaped half-giant tucks the slug away, seemingly relieved.

You put your fat slug into your dusty leather tool bag.

You close your dusty leather tool bag.

Bobbing his head again, you say, in sirihish:
"Yeah. Gore tok."

In more excited tones this time, the light, argent-cropped man says to the petite, blue-pigtailed woman, in sirihish:
"I've seen once in the arena. When I was very young, in fact."

The light, argent-cropped man says to the petite, blue-pigtailed woman, in sirihish:
"It was decorated in armor though and looked very different indeed."

The blonde, mocha-skinned woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Make sure not to mention the pouches and boots when you see me?"

The light, argent-cropped man asks you, in sirihish:
"You mean to say that you've ridden all by your lonesome to the distant northern scrub plains then?"

You send a telepathic message to the blonde, mocha-skinned woman:
"Sure. Got it all in a bag."

Quietly, the petite, blue-pigtailed woman says to the light, argent-cropped man, in sirihish:
"I'm sure it was a sight to behold, m'Lord."

Hurriedly, you say to the light, argent-cropped man, in sirihish:
"Yeah. I do jobs, get coins. I do it good. First time I work for aide, though."

The tiny and gaunt figure in a hooded, black and azure aba has arrived from the west.
The rugged, grey-eyed young man has arrived from the west.

The rugged, grey-eyed young man bows to the light, argent-cropped man as he approaches.

The tiny and gaunt figure in a hooded, black and azure aba bows deeply to the light, argent-cropped man as she approaches the group.


In a large bag (carried) :
a bloodied leather archery brace
a few round hunks of yellow sandstone
a crumbling parchment scroll
a rope-bound, tan-colored tent
a couple of shik beaks
a few handfuls of harelle berries
a rough bit of temboeye
a rotted brownish tuber
a few crystalline thorns
a bundle of desert rations
an unlit rag-wrapped agafari torch
a couple of handfuls of rock salt
a lump of grainy red salt
some splintering pieces of wood
an unlit small bundle of kindling
a couple of flat pieces of slate
a few round hunks of dark stone
a dusty bone mace
a dusty bone shortsword
a pink silt pearl
some handfuls of yellow chedya stems
a slim wooden training club
a slim wooden training dagger
a couple of wooden training longswords

Nose veiled behind a fold in his robe sleeve, the light, argent-cropped man says to you, in sirihish:
"I had thought the way there was blocked somehow."

You send a telepathic message to the blonde, mocha-skinned woman:
"Not all in one bag... wait for put it all in?"

You suffer from use of the Way.
You dissolve the psychic link.

The light, argent-cropped man sees the liveried passersby, the rugged, grey-eyed young man and the tiny and gaunt figure in a hooded, black and azure aba, and briefly nods in greeting.

Lifting a finger, the tiny and gaunt figure in a hooded, black and azure aba says, in sirihish:
"I have something for you to ease the pain, my Lord Fale."

The tiny and gaunt figure in a hooded, black and azure aba gets her richly-scented sanguine blossom from her large chalton-hide backpack.

The tiny and gaunt figure in a hooded, black and azure aba offers her richly-scented sanguine blossom to the light, argent-cropped man.

Shaking his head and causing several little braids to dance, you say to the light, argent-cropped man, in sirihish:
"Nah, just not easy."

The blonde, mocha-skinned woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Perhaps that's best."

The light, argent-cropped man asks the tiny and gaunt figure in a hooded, black and azure aba, in sirihish:
"Pain? What pain?"

The tiny and gaunt figure in a hooded, black and azure aba looks to a large dung filled cart.

The tiny and gaunt figure in a hooded, black and azure aba says, in sirihish:
"That..."

The rugged, grey-eyed young man quirks a grin.


Spoken from behind an extra fold of cloth in his robe sleeve, the light, argent-cropped man exclaims to the tiny and gaunt figure in a hooded, black and azure aba, in sirihish:
"Oh, that's not even half of the dilemma!"

The tiny and gaunt figure in a hooded, black and azure aba holds out her richly-scented sanguine blossom, revealing a smile beneath her hood.

The light, argent-cropped man indicates you with a less than subtle jerk of his head, eyes widening expressively.

Daring, eyes still downcast, you ask, in sirihish:
"Uh, I help too?"

Looking over, the tiny and gaunt figure in a hooded, black and azure aba looks up at you.

Reaching to collect the blossom in his free hand, the light, argent-cropped man says to the tiny and gaunt figure in a hooded, black and azure aba, in sirihish:
"But perhaps your kind gesture will help."

You swing your legs over and jump off of a glossy, black-scaled inix.
A glossy, black-scaled inix curls up on the ground.

The tiny and gaunt figure in a hooded, black and azure aba gives her richly-scented sanguine blossom to the light, argent-cropped man.

Chuckling, the tiny and gaunt figure in a hooded, black and azure aba says, in sirihish:
"Oh yeah, Burt likes... places."

The light, argent-cropped man holds the tiny and gaunt figure in a hooded, black and azure aba's richly-scented sanguine blossom to his nose.

The squat, barrel-shaped half-giant pulls a laden bag from his belt. A pair of wooden swords protrude from the open end, his fist closing the top of the bag around the rest.

With the scented blossom held beside his nose while he speaks, the light, argent-cropped man says to the tiny and gaunt figure in a hooded, black and azure aba, in sirihish:
"Quite a deep armoa this thing has, very lovely indeed. You have my thanks, good Oashling."

The rugged, grey-eyed young man clasps his hands behind his back beneath the tiny and gaunt figure in a hooded, black and azure aba.

Inclining her head at the light, argent-cropped man, the tiny and gaunt figure in a hooded, black and azure aba asks, in sirihish:
"You're very welcome, my Lord. Did... you have need of Burt?"

Turning to face you once more, the light, argent-cropped man asks you, in sirihish:
"How would you like to win a lifetime supply of all the candy that even you can possibly consume?"

The squat, barrel-shaped half-giant pauses, his eyes widening. He almost looks up.

The tiny and gaunt figure in a hooded, black and azure aba chuckles softly.

The rugged, grey-eyed young man's eyes widen.

The light, argent-cropped man eases the grip of his other hand on his parasol as the sun begins to descend.

The tiny and gaunt figure in a hooded, black and azure aba says, in sirihish:
"That's quite the offer, Burt."

The light, argent-cropped man nods in an agreable manner.

Managing to get the words out, you say, in sirihish:
"I like... candy. What the Lord wants, I help."

The tiny and gaunt figure in a hooded, black and azure aba says to the light, argent-cropped man, in sirihish:
"He's very eager to please."

The light, argent-cropped man says to you, in sirihish:
"Oh, it's just the tiniest bit of shoveling back at my estate. It shouldn't take you very long at all, I'm quite certain."

The squat, barrel-shaped half-giant tugs his bag open, fishing out carefully a small object or two.

Warming with a smile at her, the light, argent-cropped man says to the tiny and gaunt figure in a hooded, black and azure aba, in sirihish:
"How Allanaki of him."

The tiny and gaunt figure in a hooded, black and azure aba smiles and dips her head.

Bobbing his head, you ask, in sirihish:
"I do when you want. Can I give you?"

Softly, the tiny and gaunt figure in a hooded, black and azure aba says, in sirihish:
"It seems he has a gift for you, Lord Fale."

The squat, barrel-shaped half-giant carefully draws out two small objects that catch the Krathlight in a sudden glitter.

You get your crystalline thorn from your large bag.
It is very light.

You get your crystalline thorn from your large bag.
It is very light.

Eyebrows high, the rugged, grey-eyed young man says, in sirihish:
"Oooh."

Merchant's Road [N, S, W]
Leading to the west and south as it executes an agile turn is
Merchant's Road, its dusty surface made of hardpacked dirt, pocked with the
ruts worn by passing wagons. Short squat buildings line both sides of the
road, the majority of them empty and abandoned. Towering above the
buildings to the southwest is the cruelly curved rim of Tektolnes' Arena,
and beyond that the golden glitter of his Tower.
A broad courtyard packed with slaves hauling bags of salt opens on the
north side of the road.
A large dung filled cart stands off on the side of the path.
The rugged, grey-eyed young man is standing here.
The tiny and gaunt figure in a hooded, black and azure aba is standing here.
A glossy orange and black beetle is here, blade-sharp mandibles poised.
A glossy, black-scaled inix is reclining here, appearing very tired.
- he is carrying the body of a spotted, mangy gortok.
The petite, blue-pigtailed woman is standing here.
The light, argent-cropped man is standing here.
A one-armed, grey-bearded man stands here, next to a dung-filled cart.

Lowering his richly-scented sanguine blossom a touch, the light, argent-cropped man asks you, in sirihish:
"Oh my. Where the dickens do those things originate from?"

Vaguely, you say, in sirihish:
"North of Luirs. High place."

Conversationally, the light, argent-cropped man says to you, in sirihish:
"I once had a type of fruit known as a fig, said to come from thereabouts if I remember correctly."

The squat, barrel-shaped half-giant inches forward, laying the thorns at the feet of the petite, blue-pigtailed woman.

You drop a crystalline thorn. Shown to the room as:
A tiny thorn of crystal glitters, barely visible, on the ground.

You drop a crystalline thorn. Shown to the room as:
A tiny thorn of crystal glitters, barely visible, on the ground.

The light, argent-cropped man says to you, in sirihish:
"The story given to me was that it grew in a vast stretch of thornlands."

The squat, barrel-shaped half-giant backs up hurriedly.

The petite, blue-pigtailed woman glances once at the light, argent-cropped man.

The light, argent-cropped man nods to the petite, blue-pigtailed woman.

Decidedly plucking it up, the petite, blue-pigtailed woman picks up a crystalline thorn.

The petite, blue-pigtailed woman picks up a crystalline thorn.

The rugged, grey-eyed young man whispers something to the tiny and gaunt figure in a hooded, black and azure aba.

Nodding, smiling warmly, the tiny and gaunt figure in a hooded, black and azure aba says to the rugged, grey-eyed young man, in sirihish:
"Have a good rest."

Disgusted, you say, in sirihish:
"Gol. I have not gone. Moonies, Lord."

Bowing, the rugged, grey-eyed young man says to the light, argent-cropped man, in sirihish:
"I must go rest, my lord. All His Shadows."

The light, argent-cropped man asks you, in sirihish:
"What are Moonies? Some terrible demon of the thorns, perhaps?"

The light, argent-cropped man waves distractedly to the rugged, grey-eyed young man.

The tiny and gaunt figure in a hooded, black and azure aba waves at the rugged, grey-eyed young man.

The rugged, grey-eyed young man waves to the tiny and gaunt figure in a hooded, black and azure aba as he turns away.

The rugged, grey-eyed young man walks west.

Biting his lip, you say, in sirihish:
"The ones we war. "

Nodding in understanding, the tiny and gaunt figure in a hooded, black and azure aba says, in sirihish:
"Ah... I see what he means now."

Exaggeratedly rolling his eyes, the light, argent-cropped man says to you, in sirihish:
"The ones we pretend we war."

A glossy, black-scaled inix opens its jaws, letting its tongue dart out to lick its nostrils.

Nodding, eyes still down, you say, in sirihish:
"Until I get a job, yeah."

The light, argent-cropped man says to you, in sirihish:
"You know it's a shame we two cities strut around and both say 'We're at war, we're at war, look at me!' What war? I don't see a war."

The light, argent-cropped man asks you, in sirihish:
"Do you see a war, good Burt?"

Shakes his head, you say, in sirihish:
"Nah, just stupid Moonies on beetles who run from me. Black cloak. Krath on it."

The light, argent-cropped man says to you, in sirihish:
"Yes, well, if it's very much all the same to you, I'd quite like to get this dung shoveling business out of the way."

The tiny and gaunt figure in a hooded, black and azure aba smiles and holds out her hands.

You give your large bag to the tiny and gaunt figure in a hooded, black and azure aba.

Exhaling a moody sigh, the light, argent-cropped man says to you, in sirihish:
"Our stable whatsit is down with a terrible cold, I'm afraid. Do come right this way."

You unstrap your body of a spotted, mangy gortok from a glossy, black-scaled inix's back.

Raising her brows as she peers inside, the tiny and gaunt figure in a hooded, black and azure aba says, in sirihish:
"Oh my..."

You strap your body of a spotted, mangy gortok to a glossy black and orange beetle's back.

The tiny and gaunt figure in a hooded, black and azure aba begins leading a glossy black and orange beetle.

You jump up onto a glossy, black-scaled inix's back.
A glossy, black-scaled inix rises from the ground, and clambers to his feet.

You now follow the light, argent-cropped man.

Gulping, a bit green, you ask the tiny and gaunt figure in a hooded, black and azure aba, in sirihish:
"You.. uh... pay me later?"


Quickly, the tiny and gaunt figure in a hooded, black and azure aba gives you 400 coins.

With a stage whisper to you, the tiny and gaunt figure in a hooded, black and azure aba says, in sirihish:
"Keep in touch."

The tiny and gaunt figure in a hooded, black and azure aba bows deeply to the light, argent-cropped man.

The light, argent-cropped man says to the tiny and gaunt figure in a hooded, black and azure aba, in sirihish:
"All His Shadows, good day."

Turning with his parasol held aloft, the light, argent-cropped man says to you, in sirihish:
"Let us away."

The tiny and gaunt figure in a hooded, black and azure aba inclines her head and quickly leaves.

The tiny and gaunt figure in a hooded, black and azure aba walks west.
A glossy black and orange beetle walks west.

The light, argent-cropped man walks south.
You follow the light, argent-cropped man, and walk south.

Merchant's Road [N, S]
Leading to the north and south is Merchant's Road, its dusty surface
hardpacked dirt, pocked with the ruts worn by passing wagons. Short,
squat buildings line both sides of the road, the majority of them empty
and abandoned. Towering above the buildings to the south is the cruelly
curved rim of Tektolnes' Arena, and beyond that the golden glitter of
his Tower stands out against the dark night sky.
The light, argent-cropped man is standing here.
The petite, blue-pigtailed woman has arrived from the north.

Quickly, quivering, you say, in sirihish:
"Sorry Lord, I uh.. very being sorry."



snipped following him to the Fale estate



The light, argent-cropped man walks south.
You follow the light, argent-cropped man, and walk south.

Wagon Yard [N, E, S, W]
A broad stone path meanders in a relatively straight path through a
neatly manicured yard. Small shrubs and bushes are sculpted into bizarre
and fanciful shapes of fauna, caught in their most natural of acts. Lining
the path are small stone statues of wagons, pulled by, what appear to be
assorted humanoids. The path leads south to a small niche in the wall and
north to the main courtyard.
A small gaudy carriage stands here, its inix pawing the ground impatiently.
An arch with purple and green flowers allows entry to the western courtyard.
A large table sits next to the path, looking oddly out of place.
The light, argent-cropped man is standing here.
The petite, blue-pigtailed woman has arrived from the north.

The squat, barrel-shaped half-giant leads his inix, tugging the exhausted animal.

The light, argent-cropped man gets his brandy-filled candy from a large ornately sculpted agafari table.

Underhand tossing you his brandy-filled candy, the light, argent-cropped man says to you, in sirihish:
"I find these are far better than money, myself."

The squat, barrel-shaped half-giant catches the candy with an accurate, fast snap of the hand, immediately stuffing it into his mouth.

The light, argent-cropped man gives you his brandy-filled candy.

You take the last bite of your brandy-filled candy.
This tastes sweet and candylike.
There is nothing left now.

Twitching, you exclaim, in sirihish:
"Umf!"

Eyes wide as he nods in agreement, the light, argent-cropped man exclaims to you, in sirihish:
"I know!"

With an inquisitive tilt of his head, the light, argent-cropped man asks you, in sirihish:
"So you say you will not travel into the Gol Krathu itself, is that right?"

Hedging, you say, in sirihish:
"I... have not. I do jobs. I do what Lord says. You want, I do."

The light, argent-cropped man says to you, in sirihish:
"Well, what I want I fear is a tremendously difficult thing to acquire. Which is why I offer a lifetime supply of candy in return."

Shrugging mildly, the light, argent-cropped man says to you, in sirihish:
"Or perhaps it's not difficult."

Pointing out, you say, in sirihish:
"Might have to fu... break some Moonies, Lord, in the Gol. But, I do. You just say."

The light, argent-cropped man says to you, in sirihish:
"Oh, my. Well in that case, you see I'm after a sun legionnaire's outfit. A soldier of Tuluk. The tabard and all. Don't tell anyone I said this but.."

With a broad grin upon his face, the light, argent-cropped man exclaims to you, in sirihish:
"I need it for a costume party I have planned!"

The squat, barrel-shaped half-giant gapes, forgetting to keep his eyes down for a moment.

The light, argent-cropped man says to you, in sirihish:
"I have long hoped, good Burt, to find someone, or a group of such someones, to steal their way into that city.. track down a lone soldier on patrol.. and take him down."

The light, argent-cropped man says to you, in sirihish:
"Perhaps one occupying a quiet corner of the road. I don't really rather know how possible such stuff as this even is."

The squat, barrel-shaped half-giant wipes a dirty sleeve across his mouth, visibly caught between fear and avarice.

The light, argent-cropped man says to you, in sirihish:
"But if it -were- possible, I could easily fill whatever room or hovel in which you live with brandy candies. This I swear."

Admitting, you ask, in sirihish:
"Maybe... some blood on it is okay?"

The light, argent-cropped man raises a fist to show off his amethyst and jade silver signet ring.

The light, argent-cropped man says to you, in sirihish:
"As a Lord of the House of Fale. What's that? Oh, certainly, I could have it laundered."

The squat, barrel-shaped half-giant flinches, his eyes now firmly affixed on the floor.

Gulping, you say, in sirihish:
"I.. uh.. try Lord. I go try real hard."

The light, argent-cropped man says to you, in sirihish:
"It needn't be a complete and full set, but it should include one of their tabards with that obnoxiously bright sun upon it."

The squat, barrel-shaped half-giant nods slowly.

The light, argent-cropped man says to you, in sirihish:
"And at least a few sections of their wooden armor."

The light, argent-cropped man says to you, in sirihish:
"And whatever sun-imprinted thingamabob they use as weapons up there."

Nodding, you say, in sirihish:
"Rip an strip. Can do. Done before, Lord Fale."

The light, argent-cropped man says to you, in sirihish:
"But tell me, good Burt. Do you think it even possible? It could be quite dangerous unless done just right."

After a pause, you say, in sirihish:
"Guys die all the time in Nak, Lord. Got to be same in Moon city."

The light, argent-cropped man says to you, in sirihish:
"Yes, but soldiers dying in the middle of the night is somewhat different. Though I'm very much certain that happens as well."

Shaking his head as he seems to size you up, the light, argent-cropped man asks you, in sirihish:
"You aren't dressed nearly decently enough for such a task. What manner of weapons do you prefer to use?"

Opening his cloth carrying sling to display your dusty small sandstone boulder, you say, in sirihish:
"These."

The light, argent-cropped man asks you, in sirihish:
"My, that's awfully primitive. Wouldn't you much rather carry a giant sword or hammer of some sort?"

Sagely in his dim way, you say, in sirihish:
"Better than sword. Better than spear. Salarr don't got, Lord."

Grinning savagely for a moment, you say, in sirihish:
"Tok? Hit it once."

Blinking several times at the sight of you, the light, argent-cropped man asks you, in sirihish:
"With that rock you have there?"

The squat, barrel-shaped half-giant nods once, firm.

The squat, barrel-shaped half-giant draws out the boulder slowly, sets it down, and steps back.

You drop a dusty small sandstone boulder. Shown to the room as:
A dusty small sandstone boulder lies here.

Collapsing his delicate, amethyst silk parasol shut, the light, argent-cropped man exclaims to you, in sirihish:
"Sun Legionnaires will quiver in their boots when Burt and his rocks come rumbling in!"

The light, argent-cropped man analyzes a dusty small sandstone boulder with a quizzical stare.

The light, argent-cropped man says to you, in sirihish:
"I do hope you are very much telling the truth."

Glancing over his shoulder, lowering his voice, you ask, in sirihish:
"Name is Blue, Lord. Burt is only for the... uh... jobs. Sneaky, see?"

The light, argent-cropped man asks you, in sirihish:
"But what of armor? Will the soldier not be more readily equipped to do battle with you than that dead dog you had earlier?"

Vaguely nonplussed by this, the light, argent-cropped man says to you, in sirihish:
"Ah, yes.. ah, very clever indeed then, good Blue."

Shaking his head again, confident, you say, in sirihish:
"Quiet. Fast. Throw rock. Run. Hit with rock. Dead."

The light, argent-cropped man says to you, in sirihish:
"I'm not entirely certain the same will work with a soldier of Tuluk. They may be simpleton barbarians, but they can be terribly crafty people when they want, I tell you."

You pick up a dusty small sandstone boulder.
It is very light.

The light, argent-cropped man says to you, in sirihish:
"You shall need a back up plan if you very much want a lifetime supply of all the brandy candies you can possibly eat in your entire lifetime."

Dutifully, you say, in sirihish:
"You know best, Lord. I do your say."

The light, argent-cropped man asks you, in sirihish:
"For example, what if he simply runs away?"

Uncomfortable, less certain, you say, in sirihish:
"Uh..."

The light, argent-cropped man asks you, in sirihish:
"Or runs -at- you with his sword drawn?"

More confident, you say, in sirihish:
"Then I break his head. With a rock."

The light, argent-cropped man says to you, in sirihish:
"I should think you might like to wear a tidbit of protective covering, just in case his sword is particularly sharp."

Bobbing his head, obedient, you say, in sirihish:
"Okay, Lord."

Tightening the belt holding his huge, green-trimmed purple silk robe together, the light, argent-cropped man says to you, in sirihish:
"I shall tell you what I'll do, dear Blue."

The light, argent-cropped man says to you, in sirihish:
"I will give you armor expenses presently. As -you're- the one going after the sun soldier for me, I'll leave the decision of what to buy entirely up to you."

Nodding slowly, murmuring, you say, in sirihish:
"Okay..."

The light, argent-cropped man says to you, in sirihish:
"Use it to buy anything and everything which will help you get the legionnaire's uniform for me."

The light, argent-cropped man unlatches a pair of pouches from his robe belt and tests their weight in his hand momentarily.

Handing them over and quickly withdrawing his hand, the light, argent-cropped man gives you 1000 coins.

Brightening, you say, in sirihish:
"Yeaahhh... okay. Maybe easier to get you a wagon, but..."

The squat, barrel-shaped half-giant accepts the coins.

More confidently, you say, in sirihish:
"I go do it."

The light, argent-cropped man says to you, in sirihish:
"Wagons cost obscene amounts of money, I tell you."

Shaking his head with a snort, you say, in sirihish:
"Not all. Some you just kill for, Lord."

Smiling happily at this, the light, argent-cropped man says to you, in sirihish:
"Let's start with the sun soldier's tabard and such first."

The squat, barrel-shaped half-giant hefts the pouches for a few moments, his eyes widening.

Murmuring, distracted, you say, in sirihish:
"You bet..."

The light, argent-cropped man says to you, in sirihish:
"But if you are particularly apt at this, I know just whose wagon you could very likely indeed acquire

The light, argent-cropped man asks you, in sirihish:
"Are you aware of my name, good Burt, known in secret as Blue?"

Nodding, you say, in sirihish:
"You is Lord Fale."

Head swaying from side to side to show he is only half convinced, the light, argent-cropped man says to you, in sirihish:
"In short, you might say, yes. Lord Timotheo Fale will help you to find me more quickly."

The light, argent-cropped man exclaims to you, in sirihish:
"I should hate to think that you've found one of my relatives by mistake through the Way!"

Clearing his throat, you ask, in sirihish:
"I shovel now?"

You put your pile of allanaki coins into your plain bag of cloth.

The light, argent-cropped man says to you, in sirihish:
"What? Oh.. the shoveling, right.."

The light, argent-cropped man says to you, in sirihish:
"I should think that can wait."

Obediently, you say, in sirihish:
"You the Lord. Okay."

With the stomp of his slippered foot, the light, argent-cropped man exclaims to you, in sirihish:
"Do be certain to keep this sun legionnaire business between ourselves. If someone were to ask you are on official House Fale business and that is all the dickens they need to know!"

With rock-hard resolve, you say, in sirihish:
"Never talk. Why I still work."

The light, argent-cropped man says to the petite, blue-pigtailed woman, in sirihish:
"Adelie, ask him why he's going north."

The petite, blue-pigtailed woman nods obediently to the light, argent-cropped man.

Simply, the petite, blue-pigtailed woman asks you, in sirihish:
"Why are you traveling north?"

Replying, you say to the petite, blue-pigtailed woman, in sirihish:
"Fuck shit up, get paid."

Disappointedly, the light, argent-cropped man says to you, in sirihish:
"No, no, no. You say that you are on official House Fale business and that is all the dickens they need to know.

180/180 hp 42/42 mana 84/154 mv 151/160 stun unarmed>Forcing the words out, you say to the petite, blue-pigtailed woman, in sirihish:
"Ficial House Fale job, all the dick they need to know."

Shrugging mildly, the light, argent-cropped man says to the petite, blue-pigtailed woman, in sirihish:
"A tad vulgar, I should think, but it will have to do."

The light, argent-cropped man says to you, in sirihish:
"Brilliant. You must find my mind when you have accomplished your task. Be certain to keep the sun armor and tabard carefully stowed away until we meet again."

The squat, barrel-shaped half-giant bows low before the light, argent-cropped man.

The light, argent-cropped man says to you, in sirihish:
"And if you are quite quick about it, I promise you quite a bit more money in addition to the candy."

The light, argent-cropped man says to you, in sirihish:
"Now let us away."