Stories by the Fire

[Cind]

Tell us your stories, that are at least one year old, and not including current pcs.

Hmm, now that I've said that I can't think of one...

I have a lot of good memories of House Kadius, and a lot of not necessarily good, but cool memoris of being unmanifested as a Tuluki citizen in Tuluk. Two of those stories intersect, with my human pc Siko becoming a member of House Kadius, and being the sort of sociopath who really just wanted to be left alone and wanted to believe in something, but wasn't capable of doing so. She was a rukkian, and I'm sure it boosted her jewelrycraft. The other members of the House made the experience, and it was my only Tuluki Kadian, but for some reason the experience was better than most of my experiences as a southern Kadian. Its possible that crafters and other socialites tend to head north rather than south, increasing the number of people in a GMH there; there were a lot of active people there at the time.

I also have several memories of, not playing half-giants myself, but hanging around them and helping them resize their armor as a friend. With donations and things like that. Seemed like that part was tedious with how much it costs to get a giant's armor sized up from human size. I remember a half-giant was in the Byn, left after his year, and killed a mek by himself the day after--- this was during legacy class era. The day after -that-, he went to kill another mek--- and died.

I've died quite a bit to legacy wind witches doing stuff in the wilderness. I usually don't skill up like I care, but nothing would have really protected you from the wrath of a legacy witch, especially if you're mundane and by yourself.

[Nile]

Do we really need to recap the whole Quick/Gin saga?

[Riev]

Do we really need to recap the whole Quick/Gin saga?

No, but it was a big thing during the era of wide plotlines and semi-unrestrained PC power.

Eventually, I'll remember everything that happened with my Split Personality Bynner and re-write it.

[Feco]

I'm sharing a series of stores over in other forums.  Not only do I hope people enjoy reading them, but I'm hoping they can attract a few more players.  Maybe from tabletop crowds.

This first one is a simple Way conversation between Amon'Ma & The Butcher Brons, about a man named "Alamar."  The logs and some details have been changed to protect certain IC things.

At the start of this tale, Amon'Ma found himself alone, deep in the wilderness, absolutely loaded down with loot. He was prone to burying his treasure in hard to find places.

I think it might be fun to post the logs, here, instead of the written stories.  The Fat, Chalton-Faced Fucker, Chapter I:

Code Select Expand

You are Amon'Ma.
Sdesc: the herculean, one-eyed dwarf
You are 41 years, 1 months, and 24 days old,
which by your race and appearance is young.
You are currently speaking mirukkim with a rinthi accent.

This creature stands tall for a dwarf -- his form is massive, absolutely
corded with muscle, and his skin deeply leathered and bald.  His face is
lacking fat, his eye-sockets deeply sunken, his nose flat, and his jaw
square, altogether making his head appear as if it is nothing but a massive
skull clad in skin and taut muscle.  His teeth are rotting out of his head
-- they are black and yellow, crooked and chipped, and covered in a sticky
film.  His ears are subtly pointed, and his earlobes are stretched and
drooped, as if weighed down by some heavy ornamentation.  His missing left
eye has left a deep, viciously scarred socket -- it seems to have never truly
healed, and is always oozing a bit of clear fluid.
The figure in a dusty knee-length, grey leather duster is in excellent condition.

<on head>                a dusty colorful, polished shell helm
<over eyes>              a dusty pair of reinforced, deep-blue sunslits
<face>                   a rough tattoo of a dark crimson wyvern
<on face>                a dusty fitted, ash-grey storm mask
<in left ear>            a dusty sapphire-beaded obsidian hoop
<around neck>            a dusty polished, colorful scalemail collar
<about throat>           a crimson bandana
<slung across back>      a dusty massive, composite warbow
<across back>            a dusty oversized black backpack
<on torso>               a bloodied polished, colorful scalemail hauberk
<over right shoulder>    a dusty leather bandolier
<over left shoulder>     a dusty stiff, grey leather travel satchel
<on arms>                a bloodied pair of polished, colorful scalemail sleeves
<around right wrist>     a polished, carved shell bracer
<around left wrist>      a polished, carved shell bracer
<on hands>               a dusty pair of grey leather, styrax-studded gloves
<hands>                  an inking of a Kruth card: the Wind of Death
<primary hand>           a dusty siltflyer skull hammer-pick
<secondary hand>         a dusty triangular scrab shell shield
<on forearms>            a dusty supple, dark-grey strap-sheath
<on left index finger>   a dusty roughly-carved styrax ring
<as belt>                a thick pouched belt
<hung from belt>         a dusty studded wood-handled mace
<around body>            a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak
<about waist>            a dusky-red, bristly fur quiver
<on legs>                a bloodied pair of polished, colorful scalemail leggings
<around right ankle>     a dusty leather-strapped green glow-crystal
<around left ankle>      a dusty simple, grey leather knife sheath
<on feet>                a dusty pair of golden-colored, spurred leather boots

It is a warm day.
A harsh sandstorm from the east fills the air with whirling sand and dust.

Rolling Mountain Scrub [N, E, S, W]
  This stretch of scrub lies on low, sandy hills broken by boulders and
towering stacks of black rock.  Hardy pech grasses and maar trees are the
predominant plants here, though a few swathes of arruth grass snake through
the scrub.

A foreign presence contacts your mind.

You think:
     "Ah, shit."

The figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak growls.

The fat, wall-eyed dwarf sends you a telepathic message:
     "When ya gets ya an opportunity, we can talk. I work wit Sticks and Ratseller."

You contact the fat, wall-eyed dwarf with the Way.

You send a telepathic message to the fat, wall-eyed dwarf:
     "Yar?  What do you want to talk about, friend."

Freezing darkness consumes the mountains as the red rays of Suk-Krath fade.

Crossing his legs, you sit down.

The fat, wall-eyed dwarf sends you a telepathic message:
     "Yer a popular fella late. I got several fancy fucks 'roun 'ere wantin' ta set up a meet wit ya."

The fat, wall-eyed dwarf sends you a telepathic message:
     "If I were a sand-ass noggin' knocker like yerself, I'd do the meet somewhere safe. Mebbe Red Storm. Ya want ta contact a fella named 'Alamar'."

You send a telepathic message to the fat, wall-eyed dwarf:
     "Alamar.  I'm guessing there's sids in this?"

The fat, wall-eyed dwarf sends you a telepathic message:
     "Fuck said he'd bring ya a present. All I said was I'd deliver tha message."

You send a telepathic message to the fat, wall-eyed dwarf:
     "Well, then Amon'Ma appreciates it."

The fat, wall-eyed dwarf sends you a telepathic message:
     "That's it fer now. I'm bogged down in me work inside tha walls, which is much like yer work outside. Only our worlds don' collide much."

The fat, wall-eyed dwarf sends you a telepathic message:
     "We'll arrange fer a drink 'tween us stumps sometime in tha future. I'm sure it'd go well."


You send a telepathic message to the fat, wall-eyed dwarf:
     "Yar.  The Crimson Wind Blows, my friend."

The figure in a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak grunts.

You think:
     "I should find some better shelter."

You stand up.

[Amon'Ma continues his journey, as darkness sets in.]

[BOXCARS]

More Amon'Ma!
More Amon'Ma!
Speech! Speech! Speech!

[Reiloth]

https://www.reddit.com/r/MUD/comments/blcz8l/roleplay_roundup_week_of_562019/

Eat your heart out.

[Feco]

More Amon'Ma!
More Amon'Ma!
Speech! Speech! Speech!

The Fat, Chalton-Faced Fucker, Chapter II:

Code Select Expand

[Several days later, Amon'Ma steps into the Storm's Eye Tavern, pressing aside the beaded curtain at the entrance.]

The Storm's Eye Tavern [E, S, U]
   This dimly-lit, smoke-filled hall has been constructed from enormous
blocks of plain grey stone. Stone arches have been set in place to support
the weight of the roof, and doubtless that of the level above as well. A
riot of colorful sandcloth drapes, most of them somewhat dusty, hang in a
vaguely decorative manner from the arches. Macabre trophies line the walls,
a variety of hides, shells, and skulls that testify to the prowess of the
hunters who frequent this tavern. A bar of old, scarred baobab wood is set
along the northwestern part of the tavern.
   The tavern is filled with dusty travelers, weary-looking hunters, off-
duty militia guards, and various hooded figures who move through the crowd.
The murmur of constant conversation is punctuated with occasional laughter
and vehement curses and threats. The smell of roasting meat drifts from a
cooking pit in the southwest part of the room, and is interspersed with the
aromas of wine and spiced ale.
A bulletin board stands off to one side of the room here.
The figure in a burned rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak is sitting on a light brown booth in the southeastern corner.
The curvaceous, fiery-haired woman stands here, tending the bar.
The rugged, sunburnt elven woman is here, lounging on a couch.
The lanky, blister-faced elf moves quietly through the crowd here.
The rugged, blue-tattooed man looks around quietly from a side table here.
The wiry, slash-tattooed man sits at a side table here, drinking some ale.

The herculean, one-eyed dwarf walks up to a scarred baobab bar in the northwestern corner and holds two fingers up to the curvaceous, fiery-haired woman.

You get your pile of allanaki coins from your thick pouched belt.

You give the curvaceous, fiery-haired woman 11 obsidian coins for a reddish clay mug.
You give the curvaceous, fiery-haired woman 11 obsidian coins for a reddish clay mug.

The herculean, one-eyed dwarf collects up two mugs and makes for a light brown booth in the southeastern corner.

You sit on a light brown booth in the southeastern corner.

Passing it over, you give your reddish clay mug to the figure in a burned rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak.

The figure in a burned rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak smiles as he scoots over for room for you.

The male wearing a dusty fitted, ash-grey storm mask lowers the hood of his burned rock-grey, hooded sandcloth greatcloak.

The rat-like well-muscled dwarf stops using his dusty fitted, ash-grey storm mask.

The rat-like well-muscled dwarf stops using his pair of sunslits.

The rat-like well-muscled dwarf puts his dusty fitted, ash-grey storm mask into his leather swordbelt.

Leaning back and causing the booth to creak, you hold your reddish clay mug.

The rat-like well-muscled dwarf puts his pair of sunslits into his leather swordbelt.

At your seat, you say in sirihish, gruffly, as he settles:
     "How goes the struggle?"

You begin speaking mirukkim.

At your seat, the rat-like well-muscled dwarf says in northern-accented sirihish:
     "Good, the beetles, big black ones, are really crawling out there though.  One by both gates."

[After a bit of small talk...]

At your seat, you say in mirukkim, gruffly:
     "Do me a favor?  Find the mind of a man named Alamar.  Tell him you speak for... the mighty Amon'Ma or some scary shit.  See what he says to that."

The rat-like well-muscled dwarf nods and touches his brow.

At your seat, you say in mirukkim, gruffly, voice below the din of the tavern:
     "I'll walk you through what to say."

At your seat, the rat-like well-muscled dwarf says in northern-accented mirukkim:
     "Not sure I'd refer to 'em as a man.  At least what he sees himself as."

A raggedy pair of elves whisper to one another while they drunkenly weave through the crowd, arms slung around each other's shoulders as they begin helping one another up the stone steps.

At your seat, you say in mirukkim, with a grunt:
     "So I hear.  Don' matter, just see what he says."

The rat-like well-muscled dwarf nods slightly, tapping his temple one time.

The rat-like well-muscled dwarf frowns and glances up at you then back towards the table.

At your seat, the rat-like well-muscled dwarf says in mirukkim:
     "He found my head.  But, aint said nothin'"

At your seat, you say in mirukkim, with a grunt:
     "Slow mind, mayhaps.  Give'em time."

The rat-like well-muscled dwarf nods a few times.

You are hungry.

At your seat, the rat-like well-muscled dwarf says in mirukkim:
     "Says he represents some highblood of blah blah blah."

At your seat, you say in mirukkim, gruffly:
     "Repeat the words.  Quietly, yar?"

At your seat, the rat-like well-muscled dwarf says in mirukkim:
     "Wants to know ya.  And yer people."

The rat-like well-muscled dwarf nods.

The rat-like well-muscled dwarf whispers to you, in mirukkim:
     "Greetings, representative, blah blah.  I represent a highblood of great, wealth, and influence who is eager to become acquanted with your leader, and people."

At your seat, you say in mirukkim, with a sniff:
     "Tell him if he brings a gift, Amon'Ma will likely ride for Red Storm to meet him.  Why not, eh?"

At your seat, the rat-like well-muscled dwarf says in mirukkim, With a chuckle:
     "I have the feeling the same thing is happening at another table."

The rat-like well-muscled dwarf whispers to you, in mirukkim:
     "Our relationship could be one of great mutual gain.  I have been bestowed a gift to offer Amon' Ma.  When ca n this meeting happen?"

At your seat, you say in mirukkim, gruffly:
     "Tell him Amon'Ma can be in Red Storm by morning."

At your seat, you say in mirukkim, with a sniff:
     "Tell him I'm off in the flats, executing traitors."

The herculean, one-eyed dwarf lets loose a few rumbling chuckles.

At your seat, the rat-like well-muscled dwarf says in mirukkim:
     "Wants to know my name."

At your seat, you say in mirukkim, gruffly:
     "Tell him he can call you The First Reaver."

At your seat, you say in mirukkim, gruffly:
     "Fuck him.  HAR!"

At your seat, the rat-like well-muscled dwarf says in mirukkim:
     "He will leave when the gates open, and arrive by midday."

At your seat, the rat-like well-muscled dwarf says in mirukkim:
     "Prolly gonna get ate by that beetle though."

At your seat, you say in mirukkim, with a sniff:
     "Good.  We'll take his shit.  Tell him the Crimson Wind Blows, and drop contact."



[Feco]

and The Fat, Chalton-Faced Fucker, Chapter III:

Code Select Expand

[The next day]

The Storm's Eye Tavern [E, S, U]
   This dimly-lit, smoke-filled hall has been constructed from enormous
blocks of plain grey stone. Stone arches have been set in place to support
the weight of the roof, and doubtless that of the level above as well. A
riot of colorful sandcloth drapes, most of them somewhat dusty, hang in a
vaguely decorative manner from the arches. Macabre trophies line the walls,
a variety of hides, shells, and skulls that testify to the prowess of the
hunters who frequent this tavern. A bar of old, scarred baobab wood is set
along the northwestern part of the tavern.
   The tavern is filled with dusty travelers, weary-looking hunters, off-
duty militia guards, and various hooded figures who move through the crowd.
The murmur of constant conversation is punctuated with occasional laughter
and vehement curses and threats. The smell of roasting meat drifts from a
cooking pit in the southwest part of the room, and is interspersed with the
aromas of wine and spiced ale.
A bulletin board stands off to one side of the room here.
The rat-like well-muscled dwarf is sitting on a light brown booth in the southeastern corner.
The curvaceous, fiery-haired woman stands here, tending the bar.
The rugged, sunburnt elven woman is here, lounging on a couch.
The lanky, blister-faced elf moves quietly through the crowd here.
The rugged, blue-tattooed man looks around quietly from a side table here.
The wiry, slash-tattooed man sits at a side table here, drinking some ale.

To the east: the tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil has arrived from the north.

The rat-like well-muscled dwarf sips from his reddish clay mug.

To the east: the tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil walks west.
The tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil has arrived from the east.

The herculean, one-eyed dwarf leans back, causing his seat to creak, and lifts your reddish clay mug to his lips.

Slurping loudly, you sip from your reddish clay mug.
This crap tastes like strongly spiced ale.
You are a little hungry.
It's about half full of a red liquid.

(Sidelong, you look up at the tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil.)
Fair in both skin and hair, this boy has clearly lived a soft life.
Sun-bleached golden hair falls straight to his shoulders, swaying in the
wind like a field of fine pech grass.  His slender face is adorned with
sharp, mousy features, bearing a button nose and a thin jaw.  In contrast to
this, he has a pair of pouty, rose-colored lips hiding a row of straight,
white teeth.  A pair of clear, blue eyes sit crowned in long, curling
eyelashes beneath his manicured eyebrows.  Tanlines are visible beneath the
edges of his clothing, revealing creamy, white skin - untouched by the rays
of Suk-Krath.  Evident by his motion, his pert, young body appears more
supple than delicate.  This holds true with his hands, the one part of his
body which bears signs of work: small calluses and tan. 
The tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil is in excellent condition.

The tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil is using:
<on head>                a bloodied veiled, ebon raptor-hide helm
<on face>                a long, embroidered white veil
<in left ear>            a simple turquoise earring
<around neck>            a set of smooth obsidian neckplates
<about throat>           a small, padded leather coin pouch
<slung across back>      a long, obsidian-tipped staff
<across back>            a bone-studded backpack
<on torso>               a sleek ebon raptor-hide vest
<on arms>                a set of ebon raptor-hide armguards
<around right wrist>     a quilted, ebon raptor-hide wrap
<around left wrist>      a quilted, ebon raptor-hide wrap
<on right index finger>  a smooth turquoise ring
<on left index finger>   a bluish-black stone ring
<on left middle finger>  a glimmering sapphire and ivory finger claw
<as belt>                an ebon, skull-adorned armored belt
<hung from belt>         a bloodied slender bone skinning knife
<around body>            a dark-blue, sandcloth desert robe
<on legs>                a pair of ebon, raptor-hide leggings
<around right ankle>     a quilted, ebon raptor-hide wrap
<around left ankle>      a quilted, ebon raptor-hide wrap
<on feet>                a pair of supple, ebon snakeskin boots

He is carrying:
nothing obvious

The tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil steps into the tavern, carrying a large rolled carpet across his shoulders.

The herculean, one-eyed dwarf sniffs sharply, turning to eye the tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil.

At your seat, you say in mirukkim, to the rat-like well-muscled dwarf, tone raspy and deep:
     "Introduce him and me, yar?"

The rat-like well-muscled dwarf stands up from a light brown booth in the southeastern corner.

The tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil steps toward you, lowering his head slightly.

The herculean, one-eyed dwarf lets loose a few rumbling chuckles through his cracked, black teeth.

The herculean, one-eyed dwarf looks the tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil up and down, lifting your reddish clay mug to his lips.

Slurping loudly, you sip from your reddish clay mug.
This crap tastes like strongly spiced ale.
You are a little hungry.
It's less than half full of a red liquid.

Motioning back and forth between the two, the rat-like well-muscled dwarf says to the tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil, in mirukkim:
     "This is the Great Amon'Ma.  Amon'Ma I would like to introduce Alamar"

The herculean, one-eyed dwarf nods to the tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil and motions to the seat across from him, next to the rat-like well-muscled dwarf.

Raising his head, the tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil says to you, in southern-accented mirukkim:
     "Greetings, great Amon'Ma. I am Alamar, and I come bearing a gift from my Lady."

The rat-like well-muscled dwarf sits on a light brown booth in the southeastern corner.

The herculean, one-eyed dwarf barks a laugh, bobbing his head.

The tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil sits on a light brown booth in the southeastern corner.

The tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil places his luxuriant, sprawling kiyet-fur rug on the table, before you.

At your seat, you say in mirukkim, with a rumbling chuckle:
     "Well, well.  So I see.  And who's this Lady of yours, eh?"

The tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil gives you his luxuriant, sprawling kiyet-fur rug.

The herculean, one-eyed dwarf unrolls your luxuriant, sprawling kiyet-fur rug just a bit, running his fingers over its surface.

Brought forth by an expert tanner, the spots of this delicately furred,
luxurious rug are in stark relief to the lighter tan fur that forms the base
of the color.  The greyish rosettes differ in size from a thumbprint to a
half-giant's fist, with no order as to smaller or larger.  The beast's face,
a fearsome feline, has been captured in a permanent, defiant roar, the eyes
made of brilliant green glass glaring forever at a sightless world.  The
teeth have all been dulled carefully to leave no lasting harsh surface, yet
delicately burnt to retain the visual semblance of a razor tip. 
There are a few spaces at it.

At your seat, the rat-like well-muscled dwarf says in sirihish, looking over the rug carefully:
     "Don't you have one of those?"

At your seat, you say in mirukkim, with a rumbling chuckle:
     "Yar.  Still nice, though, ain' it?"

At your seat, the rat-like well-muscled dwarf says in sirihish:
     "Ya... I'd sleep with a whore on it fer sure."


At your seat, the tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil says in southern-accented mirukkim:
     "My Lady is a highborn of the black city. Aside from that, she must temporarily keep her identity nonspecific, for her reputation's sake."

The rat-like well-muscled dwarf sips from his reddish clay mug.

At your seat, you say in mirukkim, flicking some of the teeth attached to the fearsome face on your luxuriant, sprawling kiyet-fur rug:
     "Alrigh'.  Fair enough.  Reckon that means you wanna talk in secret, don't it?"

The herculean, one-eyed dwarf slids your luxuriant, sprawling kiyet-fur rug down, resting one end against the floor, the other against the side of the booth.


At your seat, the tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil says in southern-accented mirukkim:
     "My Lady has instructed me to simply bestow this gift and make introductions. She is quite impressed with your displays of strength, as of late. She admires strength."

The herculean, one-eyed dwarf barks a /very/ loud laugh and eyes your luxuriant, sprawling kiyet-fur rug, bobbing his head a bit.

At your seat, you say in mirukkim, leaning back, your dusty sapphire-beaded obsidian hoop swaying in his sagging ear:
     "Well, reckon introductions have been made, that case.  Glad to hear we got a fan."

The herculean, one-eyed dwarf's words end in some low, rumbling chuckles.


The rat-like well-muscled dwarf laughs once and takes a sip from his reddish clay mug.
The rat-like well-muscled dwarf sips from his reddish clay mug.

Lifting it and slurping very loudly, you sip from your reddish clay mug.
This crap tastes like strongly spiced ale.
You are a little hungry.
It is empty.

The rat-like well-muscled dwarf wipes his mouth messily with a hand, then rubs his large bulbous nose, watching the tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil.

At your seat, the tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil says in southern-accented mirukkim:
     "I am sure my Lady would like to know if your strength of arms could be harnessed, in exchange for payment."

The tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil sits still, gazing across the booth at you with clear, blue eyes.

At your seat, you say in mirukkim, with a nod, lips curling into a crooked, black-toothed grin:
     "Well, the Crimson Wind are sellswords, ain' they?  Every job has its price."

At your seat, the tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil says in southern-accented mirukkim:
     "Excellent. This will please my Lady, greatly."

The herculean, one-eyed dwarf sniffs sharply and simply stares at the tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil, lips still curled into a toothy grin.

You think:
     "... Whatever?  Who cares."

The tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil dusts himself off.

At your seat, you say in mirukkim, gruffly, motioning with your reddish clay mug:
     "S'nice... claw."

The tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil smiles.

You are a little hungry.

The tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil stops using his glimmering sapphire and ivory finger claw.

At your seat, you say in mirukkim, with a low whistle:
     "S'nice earring too."

The herculean, one-eyed dwarf lets loose some chuckles, looking to the rat-like well-muscled dwarf.

Sliding it towards you with a smile, the tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil gives you his glimmering sapphire and ivory finger claw.

Whistling again and holding it up to the light, you look at your glimmering sapphire and ivory finger claw.
   Fine white ivory has been carved into a gracefully pointed nail
extension, about one inch in length.  A pair of swirling feathers has been
carved into the surface of the ivory, as if they were blowing in the wind.
The feathers have been inset by tiny bits of sapphire, the differing shades
of the stone used to highlight and distinguish the feathers from the ivory
base.  Stylized swirling gusts of wind have also been inlaid in sapphire,
seeming to blow the feathers in a glittering blue breeze. 

The rat-like well-muscled dwarf nods slowly to you then the tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil.

The tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil stops using his simple turquoise earring.

At your seat, the rat-like well-muscled dwarf says in sirihish, With a chuckle as he leans back:
     "Ya... both of 'em are real nice."

Tossing it over, the tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil gives you his simple turquoise earring.

This small earring is made from low-quality turquoise, its blue surface
marked with brownish veins.  It is a simple loop, a hook sufficing to fasten
it to the ear. 

The tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil smiles happily across the booth.

At your seat, you say in mirukkim, snatching your simple turquoise earring, wrapping a fist around it, and wagging a finger at the tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil:
     "You and me?  We're gonna get along /just/ fine."

At your seat, the tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil says in southern-accented mirukkim:
     "I do hope the jewelry pleases you, Amon'Ma."

The herculean, one-eyed dwarf lets out a very, /very/ loud 'HAR!,' which draws some wayward looks.

The rat-like well-muscled dwarf chuckles, relaxing back into his seat.

The herculean, one-eyed dwarf twists your simple turquoise earring a bit, tugging at his naked, sagging earlobe.

At your seat, the tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil says in southern-accented mirukkim, beaming a bright smile:
     "I think this is the start of something great."

You fasten your simple turquoise earring on your right ear.

At your seat, you say in mirukkim, to the tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil, with a nod and a chuckle:
     "Likewise."

At your seat, the tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil says in southern-accented mirukkim:
     "And I also hope my dwarf-tongue was up to par."


At your seat, you say in mirukkim, to the tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil with a rumbling chuckle, eyeing your glimmering sapphire and ivory finger claw:
     "Better'an any non-stump I ever heard, tell you that.  Your Lady's got her a talented fuck, don't she?"

You slip your glimmering sapphire and ivory finger claw onto the index finger of your right hand.

The tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil smiles.

The herculean, one-eyed dwarf chuckles, clacking your glimmering sapphire and ivory finger claw against your dusty roughly-carved styrax ring.


The tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil opens his small, padded leather coin pouch.

At your seat, the rat-like well-muscled dwarf says in sirihish, with a grunt:
     "The accent is a bit on the wrong side of the wall.  But, ya.  Pretty good."


The herculean, one-eyed dwarf grabs your reddish clay mug back up.

The herculean, one-eyed dwarf chuckles as he tilts your reddish clay mug back, draining it.


The tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil says to the curvaceous, fiery-haired woman, in southern-accented mirukkim:
     "Love! Some spice ale for my new friends."

You stop using your reddish clay mug.
Passing it off to a server, you discard your reddish clay mug.

The tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil gets his pile of allanaki coins from his small, padded leather coin pouch.


The curvaceous, fiery-haired woman trades a reddish clay mug to the tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil.


The curvaceous, fiery-haired woman trades a reddish clay mug to the tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil.


The tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil gives you his reddish clay mug.


The tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil gives his reddish clay mug to the rat-like well-muscled dwarf.

At your seat, you say in mirukkim, looking to the rat-like well-muscled dwarf:
     "This one knows how to parlay, don' he?"

Drawing it near, you hold your reddish clay mug.
The tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil puts his pile of allanaki coins into his small, padded leather coin pouch.


The tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil closes his small, padded leather coin pouch.


At your seat, the rat-like well-muscled dwarf says in sirihish:
     "Better'n most thats fer certain."


The rat-like well-muscled dwarf stops using his reddish clay mug.

Slurping it down loudly, you sip from your reddish clay mug.
This crap tastes like strongly spiced ale.
You are a little hungry.
It's about half full of a red liquid.


The rat-like well-muscled dwarf holds his reddish clay mug.

The herculean, one-eyed dwarf quietly considers the tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil.

(The herculean, one-eyed dwarf's head vaguely and slowly bobs.)

At your seat, the tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil says in southern-accented mirukkim, still smiling:
     "Have you any message for my Lady? If not, I still believe she will be thrilled with this meeting."

The rat-like well-muscled dwarf sips from his reddish clay mug.

At your seat, you say in mirukkim, with a grunt:
     "Just tell her that life is good for the friends of Amon'Ma, yar?"

At your seat, the tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil says in southern-accented mirukkim, smiling widely:
     "Yes. That is perfect."


At your seat, you say in mirukkim, with a rumbling chuckle:
     "Yar, and so it is.  Fucking pleasure."


At your seat, the tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil says in southern-accented mirukkim:
     "I believe I will be on my way, friends. I have to ride far west to get back to the city... There is a Mek roaming the sands to the north."


At your seat, you say in mirukkim, with a nod:
     "I'll make sure the Reavers part way for you.  Amon'Ma is pleased with the meeting."

At your seat, you say in mirukkim, with a cracked, black toothed grin:
     "The Crimson Wind Blows."

The tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil dusts himself off before pushing himself to his feet.

The rat-like well-muscled dwarf holds up his reddish clay mug and grins toothily to the tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil.

The rat-like well-muscled dwarf shouts, in sirihish:
     "The Crimson Wind Blows!"

Bearing his teeth in a smile, the tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil says to you, in southern-accented mirukkim:
     "The Crimson Wind Blows."

The tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil stands up from a light brown booth in the southeastern corner.

The herculean, one-eyed dwarf lets loose a few laughs, earrings swinging about wildly.

The tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil nods at you.


The tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil walks east.
To the east: the tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil has arrived from the west.

To the east: the tall and thin male wearing a long, embroidered white veil walks north.

The rat-like well-muscled dwarf stares at the door, then slowly turns to you and chuckles.

The herculean, one-eyed dwarf's grin turns to a scowl.  He clears his throat and spits on the floor.

At your seat, the rat-like well-muscled dwarf says in mirukkim:
     "Ya... exactly"


[chrisdcoulombe]

Amon Ma was a great Character.  Applause to Feco.  I had a good one between Amon and Ash, but I lost all my logs in a hard drive failure.

[Rumor]

I regret not logging anything. I'll start getting into that more often, I think.

[FamousAmos]

HAR!

[Nile]

I used to have the Red Fang slaughter logged but lost it in a crash