Clash of 2 Black Robes - A log from around 2014

[FamousAmos]

Since I can't put it in original submissions, but I got approval from staff, I am posting a log here from around 10 years ago, when the city of Allanak had been plotting and politicking around the position of 2 red robes, for which there was only 1 seat available in the Senate.

It finally came to a clash between 2 black robes, whom each were supporting a Red Robe.
It was quite the experience, and brought the whole storyline to a closure.

----------------------------

The portly, sallow-eyed templar has arrived from the south, at a leisurely pace.

The blonde, mocha-skinned woman peers south.

The sleek, black-haired templar looks up at the portly, sallow-eyed templar.

The rugged man with flint-grey eyes grunts, looking southward.

Glancing, the tiny, bushy-maned woman looks south.

The warted, deep red half-giant grins as his patch is worn.

The rugged man with flint-grey eyes looks at the portly, sallow-eyed templar.

The warted, deep red half-giant pushes away from a boxy wooden bar.

The dawn-haired, bay-skinned templar reaches to tap the sleek, black-haired templar's arm.

Raising his voice over the tavern, the lanky, sandy-brown man says to the sleek, black-haired templar, in sirihish:
    "We reached an agreement. I'll be teachin' him how to impress you."

l portly [rising up]
You look up at the portly, sallow-eyed templar, rising up.
Cloudy, vacant eyes are deeply set within the face of this husky man,
framed by darkened circles of yellowed flesh which fade away to the
reddened, sun-burnt facial peaks of his cheeks and nose.  Long waves of
silken black hair have been swept apart at the base of his neck, pinned and
pulled upward to an elaborate topknot upon the crown of his head.  With
perfectly trimmed nails, and immaculately cleaned skin, this man seems to be
very well taken care of despite his sickly yellow pallor and slight obesity.
The portly, sallow-eyed templar is in excellent condition.

The portly, sallow-eyed templar is using:
<on head>                a sandy-yellow chitinous helm
<around neck>            a medallion of Tektolnes
<on torso>               a bloodied blue silk shirt
<on right index finger>  a silver signet ring
<on left index finger>   an obsidian templar ring
<as belt>                a black leather belt
<around body>            a burned red, hooded templar's robe
<on legs>                a pair of blue silk pants
<on feet>                a pair of black leather boots

He is carrying:
nothing obvious

Slipping from her seat, the fair, krath-locked woman looks up at the portly, sallow-eyed templar.

You stand up from a boxy wooden bar.

The wiry, blue-eyed man glances south.

The tiny, bushy-maned woman looks up at the portly, sallow-eyed templar.

The fair, krath-locked woman stands up from a boxy wooden bar.

The blonde, mocha-skinned woman widens her eyes and drops to her knees.

The short, slender man looks up at the portly, sallow-eyed templar.

The rugged man with flint-grey eyes drops to a knee.

Dropping to her knees, you sit down.

The curly-haired, droopy-eyed woman looks up at the portly, sallow-eyed templar.

The stocky, sun-bronzed man stands up from a boxy wooden bar.

The warted, deep red half-giant says, in sirihish:
    "I'm gunna go South and see what's up."

The short, slender man gasps.

The wiry, blue-eyed man pushes away from a boxy wooden bar.

The sleek, black-haired templar seems shocked to see the portly, sallow-eyed templar, and bows respectfully.

The warted, deep red half-giant walks south.

The short, slender man stands up from a boxy wooden bar.

Attention going up, the lanky, sandy-brown man looks up at the portly, sallow-eyed templar.

Dropping to his knees, the wiry, blue-eyed man sits down.

The dawn-haired, bay-skinned templar bows low to the portly, sallow-eyed templar.

Blinking first, the fair, krath-locked woman goes low into a bow.

The tall, amber-eyed woman looks at the portly, sallow-eyed templar, eyes wide.

With the flurry of movement, the rubenesque, tawny-haired woman looks up at the portly, sallow-eyed templar.

The short, slender man drops to his knees.

The curly-haired, droopy-eyed woman stands up from a boxy wooden bar.

The tiny, bushy-maned woman stands up from a round, blue-painted table.

Immediately jolting to his feet, the lanky, sandy-brown man stands up from a boxy wooden bar.

The lofty, night-crowned man looks up at the portly, sallow-eyed templar.

The stocky, sun-bronzed man looks at the portly, sallow-eyed templar, bowing deeply.

As she lowers herself, the dawn-haired, bay-skinned templar looks up at the portly, sallow-eyed templar.

Dropping to her knees, the curly-haired, droopy-eyed woman sits down.

The rubenesque, tawny-haired woman stands up from a round, blue-painted table.

The lofty, night-crowned man stands up from a round, blue-painted table.

The tiny, bushy-maned woman dips into a deep curtsey.

contact brand
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the rugged man with flint-grey eyes with the Way.

The wan, fine-boned blonde looks up at the portly, sallow-eyed templar.

Kneeling somewhat awkwardly, the rubenesque, tawny-haired woman sits down.

The lanky, sandy-brown man sinks to a knee in the portly, sallow-eyed templar's presence, fist held against his chest.

The lofty, night-crowned man immediately dips into a low bow, eyes on the floor.

You send a telepathic message to the rugged man with flint-grey eyes:
    "*anxiety* Which... which one is that??"

Nobles and commoners alike dip into deep bows toward the portly, sallow-eyed templar, or fall to their knees.

The wiry, blue-eyed man looks up at the portly, sallow-eyed templar.

The portly, sallow-eyed templar stands complacently in the rippling midst of bows and prostrations, smiling serenely.

Slumping to a knee at the sight of the portly, sallow-eyed templar, mostly falling behind a boxy wooden bar, the tall, amber-eyed woman exclaims, in sirihish:
    "Great Lord Caleo...!"

The wan, fine-boned blonde stands up from a boxy wooden bar.

The warted, deep red half-giant has arrived from the south.

You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the rugged man with flint-grey eyes:
    "That... answers that."

The blonde, mocha-skinned woman keeps her gaze low and averted.

You dissolve the psychic link.

A foreign presence contacts your mind.

The warted, deep red half-giant says, in sirihish:
    "I didn't see anything weird to the South at all..."

The rugged man with flint-grey eyes sends you a telepathic message:
    "He's tha templar of tha Storms I think."

The short, slender man lowers his head, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor.

The sleek, black-haired templar says to the warted, deep red half-giant, in sirihish:
    "Shut your mouth, recruit."

You think:
    "Fuck..."

The warted, deep red half-giant nods to the sleek, black-haired templar.

l
The Main Room of the Red's Retreat [N, S, W]
A wall here is designated as a message board.
The warted, deep red half-giant is standing here.
The portly, sallow-eyed templar is standing here.
The stocky, sun-bronzed man is here in a low bow.
The rubenesque, tawny-haired woman is sitting here.
The wan, fine-boned blonde is standing here.
The fair, krath-locked woman is bowed low here.
The lanky, sandy-brown man has fallen to his knee in reverence.
The wiry, blue-eyed man is sitting here.
A half-giant soldier is standing here.
The sleek, black-haired templar is standing here.
A half-giant soldier is standing here.
A half-giant soldier is standing here.
The dawn-haired, bay-skinned templar is standing here.
A half-giant soldier is standing here.
The curly-haired, droopy-eyed woman is sitting here.
The rugged man with flint-grey eyes has taken a knee.
The purple-dreadlocked, dark-skinned woman is standing here.
The tiny, bushy-maned woman holds a deep curtsey.
The short, slender man is kneeling here.
The smooth-shaven, turquoise-eyed woman stands here, tall and attentive.
The lofty, night-crowned man is standing here.
A tall, amber-eyed woman serves drinks from behind a boxy wooden bar.
The small, dark-haired man sits drinking at a table in the corner.
A husky dwarf sits on a stone-seated stool at the bar.


Hissing, you whisper to the warted, deep red half-giant in sirihish:
    "Take a knee!"

The warted, deep red half-giant quickly kneels down.

The rugged man with flint-grey eyes sends you a telepathic message:
    "Mebbe tha Dragon Shield.  I heard his name recent anyhow."

You notice: The fair, krath-locked woman's gaze remains at a spot on the floor just beneath her.

The warted, deep red half-giant whimpers a bit.

His smile broadening, a male voice exclaims, in sirihish:
    "Good people of Allanak! I have come to administer the Highlord's grace and goodwill amongst his citizenry!"

His smile broadening, the portly, sallow-eyed templar exclaims, in sirihish:
    "Good people of Allanak! I have come to administer the Highlord's grace and goodwill amongst his citizenry!"

hem swallows thickly, keeping her gaze down to the floor
(The blonde, mocha-skinned woman swallows thickly, keeping her gaze down to the floor.)

The rugged man with flint-grey eyes sends you a telepathic message:
    "He's got blood on his shirt."

You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the rugged man with flint-grey eyes with the Way.

The sleek, black-haired templar remains motionless.

You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the rugged man with flint-grey eyes:
    "And his robe is burnt."

The lanky, sandy-brown man averts his gaze, studying the tavern's floor.

The portly, sallow-eyed templar looks from the sleek, black-haired templar to the dawn-haired, bay-skinned templar, his smile growing thin.

You think:
    "Good Lord... what's going on??"

The rugged man with flint-grey eyes sends you a telepathic message:
    "Uhoh."

The sleek, black-haired templar shivers a little as the portly, sallow-eyed templar's gaze sweeps over him.

His voice syrupy and sweet, the portly, sallow-eyed templar exclaims, in sirihish:
    "Ohh, templars!"

The rugged man with flint-grey eyes sends you a telepathic message:
    "I think he's tha Storm's Red.  Do you think he had a fight with Great Lord Eligeth?"

The portly, sallow-eyed templar snaps his fingers once, then examines his manicured nails.

You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the rugged man with flint-grey eyes:
    "I... I don't even want to think about it..."

You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the rugged man with flint-grey eyes:
    "His voice makes the hairs on my neck rise though..."

The dawn-haired, bay-skinned templar answers with a forced smile, that is polite, not even pretending to be merry.

The sleek, black-haired templar bows his head in respect at the portly, sallow-eyed templar's acknowledgement.

The rugged man with flint-grey eyes sends you a telepathic message:
    "Yes.  I hope he don't hurt my lord."

You notice: Almost as if using a boxy wooden bar as cover, the tall, amber-eyed woman keeps her head low and stays behind it carefully while kneeling.

(The blonde, mocha-skinned woman briefly, ever so briefly flicks her eyes to the dawn-haired, bay-skinned templar and the sleek, black-haired templar, then casts her gaze down again, biting her lip.)

The warted, deep red half-giant swallows a large lump in his throat. Sweat beads are barely visible along his forehead, and they slowly crawl down it.

The fit, keen-eyed woman has arrived from the north.
The massive, wyvern-tattooed man has arrived from the north.

The portly, sallow-eyed templar looks up from his nails, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

Very quickly before looking back down, the warted, deep red half-giant looks down at the fit, keen-eyed woman.

The fit, keen-eyed woman enters the tavern, sees everyone in a prostrated state and curtseys low.

You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the rugged man with flint-grey eyes:
    "Oh... Oh dear... they mocked Storm..."

Commoners in general have remained on their knees in the portly, sallow-eyed templar's presence, and barely sneak peeks at him.

The rugged man with flint-grey eyes sends you a telepathic message:
    "Who did?"

The fit, keen-eyed woman looks up at the portly, sallow-eyed templar.

You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the rugged man with flint-grey eyes:
    "I do think this is their Red robe. These blues did!"

His voice sharpening, the portly, sallow-eyed templar says, in sirihish:
    "I -said-, templ-"

The rugged man with flint-grey eyes sends you a telepathic message:
    "Oh shit."

[FamousAmos]

The portly, sallow-eyed templar looks to the fit, keen-eyed woman, over the sea of prostrate commoners and nobles.

(The blonde, mocha-skinned woman flinches.)

The hawk-eyed, broad chinned man has arrived from the north.

You notice: The lofty, night-crowned man shifts a glance over to the fit, keen-eyed woman.

The rugged man with flint-grey eyes takes advantage of the distraction of the fit, keen-eyed woman's's arrival to edge protectively closer to the lofty, night-crowned man on his knees.

Gaze leaving the portly, sallow-eyed templar for only a moment, the dawn-haired, bay-skinned templar looks up at the hawk-eyed, broad chinned man.

The fit, keen-eyed woman takes a knee before the portly, sallow-eyed templar with the massive, wyvern-tattooed man's assistance, her draping crimson silk sari making that task quite difficult.

Flicking her eyes over for a second, you look up at the hawk-eyed, broad chinned man.
A set of piercing reddish brown eyes peer out from deep rooted sockets,
cowled by a pronounced brow ridge.  A gaunt face typical of a harsh hand to
mouth life carries with it a broad and large cleft chin that seemingly
dominates his facial features.    Long lean limbs of hard earned muscle
cling to the man's structure, stretched and worn ebon skin covering his wiry
frame.  Jet black greasy looking hair hangs from atop his head in stick
straight locks, that flank either side of his face. 
The hawk-eyed, broad chinned man is in excellent condition.

The hawk-eyed, broad chinned man is using:
<around neck>            a stiff, black-leather gorget
<across back>            a tough, rugged hide rucksack
<on arms>                a pair of black sandcloth sleeves
<around right wrist>     a thick, rope-bound leather bracer
<around left wrist>      a thick, rope-bound leather bracer
<around body>            a weathered, dust-colored longcloak
<on legs>                a pair of black sandcloth leggings
<on feet>                a pair of sandcloth and leather boots

He is carrying:
nothing obvious


The rugged man with flint-grey eyes begins guarding the lofty, night-crowned man.

Flatering briefly in the doorway, the hawk-eyed, broad chinned man gazes across the tavern floor.

This time only glancing up, keeping his head down at the same time, the warted, deep red half-giant looks down at the hawk-eyed, broad chinned man.

You send a telepathic message to the rugged man with flint-grey eyes:
    "This is so weird... to see all the nobles bow... but I bet you this Red Robe isn't pleased with these Blues."

The portly, sallow-eyed templar glances from the fit, keen-eyed woman to the sleek, black-haired templar to the lofty, night-crowned man to the dawn-haired, bay-skinned templar like a fat man at a large meal.

Stepping further into the tavern, the hawk-eyed, broad chinned man dips into a bow.

l n
A curved archway leads out onto a dusty plaza.
[Very far]
Nothing.
[Far]
A line of lizards is carved atop a red sandstone wall.
[Near]
The rangy, slit-eyed man loiters by the tavern door.
A clay-stained human potter sits here on a woven mat of grass.
A lithe, obsidian-eyed woman lounges near the tavern entrance.
The scrawny, sunken-eyed beggar grovels for coins here piteously.

The rugged man with flint-grey eyes sends you a telepathic message:
    "Fuck fuck fuck."

You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.

The lofty, night-crowned man releases a slow, quiet breath, his eyes locked on the floor just in front of his feet.

Quietly, the portly, sallow-eyed templar says, in sirihish:
    "So many friends. So many good friends. Step forward, the four of you. Let me look upon you."

Blinknig a few times, realization dawning across him, the hawk-eyed, broad chinned man slumps down to his knees.

Feeling tensed, you think:
    "Shit..."

Slumping down to his knees, spreading across the floor, the hawk-eyed, broad chinned man sits down to rest.

The fit, keen-eyed woman rises with the massive, wyvern-tattooed man's assistance and approaches the portly, sallow-eyed templar, hands folding behind her back.

ceas
You dissolve the psychic link.

The rugged man with flint-grey eyes casts a troubled look at the lofty, night-crowned man.

contact tiberius
You suffer from use of the Way.
You are unable to reach their mind.


The sleek, black-haired templar comes to his feet, and steps maybe two steps forward in compliance with the portly, sallow-eyed templar's command.

l
The Main Room of the Red's Retreat [N, S, W]
A wall here is designated as a message board.
The hawk-eyed, broad chinned man is reclining here.
The massive, wyvern-tattooed man watches his surroundings.
The fit, keen-eyed woman is standing here.
The warted, deep red half-giant is kneeling down.
The portly, sallow-eyed templar is standing here.
The stocky, sun-bronzed man is here in a low bow.
The rubenesque, tawny-haired woman kneels here.
The wan, fine-boned blonde stands here bent in a curtsy.
The fair, krath-locked woman is bowed low here.
The lanky, sandy-brown man has fallen to his knee in reverence.
The wiry, blue-eyed man is sitting here.
A half-giant soldier is standing here.
The sleek, black-haired templar is standing here.
A half-giant soldier is standing here.
A half-giant soldier is standing here.
The dawn-haired, bay-skinned templar is standing here.
A half-giant soldier is standing here.
The curly-haired, droopy-eyed woman is sitting here.
The rugged man with flint-grey eyes has taken a knee.
The purple-dreadlocked, dark-skinned woman is standing here.
The tiny, bushy-maned woman holds a deep curtsey.
The short, slender man is kneeling here.
The smooth-shaven, turquoise-eyed woman kneels on the floor.
The lofty, night-crowned man holds a bow.
A tall, amber-eyed woman serves drinks from behind a boxy wooden bar.
The small, dark-haired man sits drinking at a table in the corner.
A husky dwarf sits on a stone-seated stool at the bar.


Peeking, the stocky, sun-bronzed man looks up at the lofty, night-crowned man.

A foreign presence contacts your mind.

His posture still bent, the lofty, night-crowned man advances towards the portly, sallow-eyed templar, his shoes clicking on the cylini floorboard.

The dawn-haired, bay-skinned templar's long stride brings her closer.

The hawk-eyed, broad chinned man sends you a telepathic message:
    "Oi there, Aida. I was scarce for like ... a whole year. Just kind of resurfaced last week and ... whoa. "

The rugged man with flint-grey eyes rises to follow the lofty, night-crowned man, dropping back to a knee beside him.

You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the hawk-eyed, broad chinned man with the Way.

The fit, keen-eyed woman asks the portly, sallow-eyed templar, in sirihish:
    "How may I serve, Great Lord?"

The lofty, night-crowned man sinks even lower as he nears the portly, sallow-eyed templar, his eyes cast down to his toes.

Turning his head up, the warted, deep red half-giant looks down at the fit, keen-eyed woman.

You send a telepathic message to the hawk-eyed, broad chinned man:
    "*tension crossing the link* I... I can't recall who you are but I don't care at the moment. There's a -Red Robe- over here. A pissed off Red."

The light in the tavern dims noticeably, and you feel unease roiling in the pit of your stomach.

ceas
You dissolve the psychic link.

The rugged man with flint-grey eyes grimaces, swallowing hard.

The warted, deep red half-giant looks down slowly.

A dull pain throbs behind your eyes, sending spikes of discomfort through your forehead.

You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.

People blink and stare.

The dawn-haired, bay-skinned templar winces.

You notice: The lofty, night-crowned man's fingers tremble.

Abruptly, the tiny, bushy-maned woman sits down.

The fit, keen-eyed woman winces and touches at her brow.

The blonde, mocha-skinned woman winces and holds her head.

The rugged man with flint-grey eyes winces, his jaw tightening.

The curly-haired, droopy-eyed woman blinks rapidly, for a few seconds.

You think:
    "The fuck??"

A foreign presence contacts your mind.

contact brand
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the rugged man with flint-grey eyes with the Way.

The warted, deep red half-giant begins to quiver while in his kneeling position.

The lofty, night-crowned man starts to pant a little, his hands unclutching at his front to tentatively reach for his brow, though he maintains his posture.

The slim, bearded man sends you a telepathic message:
    "Talk to me. We're not trying to set foot inside."

You notice: The tall, amber-eyed woman slumps into a boxy wooden bar and hits her head against a shelf.

You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.

You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the rugged man with flint-grey eyes:
    "Did... did you feel that??"

You dissolve the psychic link.

contact The slim, bearded man
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the slim, bearded man with the Way.

The bald, birthmarked black-robed templar brushes a hand across his head, leveling a cold stare at the portly, sallow-eyed templar.

The dawn-haired, bay-skinned templar's eyes narrow in a wince.

You send a telepathic message to the slim, bearded man:
    "A pissed off... red robe.... my head hurts and I'm about to throw up. He's pissed!"

Just a moment, the fit, keen-eyed woman looks up at the bald, birthmarked black-robed templar.

The sleek, black-haired templar looks at the bald, birthmarked black-robed templar.

The rugged man with flint-grey eyes looks at the bald, birthmarked black-robed templar.

The portly, sallow-eyed templar stiffens suddenly, turning to look at the bald, birthmarked black-robed templar.

The fair, krath-locked woman drops even lower suddenly, forehead touching the floor.

The rubenesque, tawny-haired woman tilts her head further forward, gloved hand coming up to press at and rub at her eyes.

The dawn-haired, bay-skinned templar sees the bald, birthmarked black-robed templar and falls promptly to her knees.

The sleek, black-haired templar falls to his knees before the bald, birthmarked black-robed templar.

The lofty, night-crowned man looks at the bald, birthmarked black-robed templar, before immediately collapsing heavily to his knees.

The rugged man with flint-grey eyes gasps, dropping to his belly on the floor.

Eyes jutting up for a moment, the lanky, sandy-brown man looks at the bald, birthmarked black-robed templar.

Lowering herself even further, the dawn-haired, bay-skinned templar sits down.

The fit, keen-eyed woman suddenly prostrates herself once again, upon noticing the bald, birthmarked black-robed templar.

Quickly before looking down, the warted, deep red half-giant looks down at the bald, birthmarked black-robed templar.

The lofty, night-crowned man sits down.

Fitfully, the short, slender man looks up at the bald, birthmarked black-robed templar.

Blinking, the tiny, bushy-maned woman looks up at the bald, birthmarked black-robed templar, but only for a second.

l black.templar.robed [staring in awe and fear
You look up at the bald, birthmarked black-robed templar, staring in awe and fear.
The human male standing before you reaches well over five cords in
height, with broad shoulders and muscle-lined arms.  His rounded,
deeply-tanned head is completely bald, with an elaborate jade dragon
tattooed onto it.  His eyes are set close together, a greyish-blue in hue,
and between them, running down the length of his aquiline nose, is an
asymmetrical red birthmark, shaped like a mace. 
The bald, birthmarked black-robed templar is in excellent condition.

The bald, birthmarked black-robed templar is using:
<around neck>            a medallion of Tektolnes
<on torso>               a snug-fitting, black leather vest
<on right index finger>  a silver insignia ring
<on left index finger>   an obsidian templar ring
<as belt>                a black belt
<around body>            a black templar's robe
<on legs>                a pair of black silk pants
<on feet>                a pair of black leather boots

He is carrying:
nothing obvious


A dull, whining noise replaces all sound in the tavern. For a long moment you hear nothing but it and your own heartbeat - *BU...BUMP* *BU...BUMP* *BU...BUMP* - and then sound comes rushing back in a confusing, disjointed cacophany.

The rugged man with flint-grey eyes sits down.

Looking up momentarily, the wan, fine-boned blonde spots the bald, birthmarked black-robed templar's robe hem and bends forward, forehead touching the floor.

The rugged man with flint-grey eyes lies down on the ground and rests.

The wan, fine-boned blonde sits down to rest.

The short, slender man presses his face to the floor.

You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the slim, bearded man:
    "A BLACK ROBE!"

The short, slender man presses his face to the floor.

You dissolve the psychic link.

A huge gasp goes up and people begin to prostrate themselves, throwing their bodies to the floor.

The wiry, blue-eyed man prostrates himself fully.

Falling forward, the lanky, sandy-brown man sits down, prostrating himself.

The stocky, sun-bronzed man sits down to rest.

The short, slender man sits down to rest.

The tiny, bushy-maned woman sinks even lower, not quite exactly on her stomach, but not really very far from it.

You notice: The tall, amber-eyed woman shakes rapidly as she sinks further behind the bar.

The blonde, mocha-skinned woman shakes uncontrollably, groaning as she holds her head.

The portly, sallow-eyed templar glances over his shoulder towards the southern exit, then turns to the bald, birthmarked black-robed templar and bows very low before going to one knee.

The lofty, night-crowned man pants heavily, his hands pressed upon the ground, his wide eyes on the floor, his mouth agape.

As there's yet more movement, the rubenesque, tawny-haired woman looks up at the bald, birthmarked black-robed templar, and abruptly, clumsily, prostrates herself.

The fair, krath-locked woman sits down.

Clearing his throat, the portly, sallow-eyed templar says, in sirihish:
    "High Commander! So good t-"

His voice a whisper that thunders in your ears, the bald, birthmarked black-robed templar says, in sirihish:
    "Oh... Caleo. You've disappointed me. Again."

You notice: The husky, weatherworn dwarf grabs his mug from the tabletop.

With a flicker of a glance about him, the hawk-eyed, broad chinned man sprawls across the ground.

(The blonde, mocha-skinned woman whimpers softly and scoots back against the bar.)

With a simpering smile, whining a bit, the portly, sallow-eyed templar says, in sirihish:
    "My Lord? Surely y-"

Shrieks are muffled against the floor as people hide their faces.

The portly, sallow-eyed templar cuts off suddenly, his eyes going wide as he claws at his throat. Blood, black and thick, trickles from his ears and nose.

Terror etched on her face, the tall, amber-eyed woman crawls behind a boxy wooden bar, curling up in a fetal position.

Daring to watch the horrible sight, the fit, keen-eyed woman looks up at the portly, sallow-eyed templar.

The bald, birthmarked black-robed templar folds his arms into the sleeves of his robes, impassively watching the life drain from the portly, sallow-eyed templar.

Glancing up and seeming to stare, the warted, deep red half-giant looks down at the portly, sallow-eyed templar.

Whispering, still, the bald, birthmarked black-robed templar says, in sirihish:
    "So disappointing."

The lofty, night-crowned man visibly trembles all over, shuffling back, pallid.

The rugged man with flint-grey eyes shudders on the floor.

Blood flows from the portly, sallow-eyed templar's pores and orifices, dripping to the floor as his chest heaves but fails to find oxygen.

The blonde, mocha-skinned woman curls up against a boxy wooden bar, keeping herself low as she hides her face.

A foreign presence contacts your mind.

Your mouth goes suddenly parched, and the corners of your mouth crack as the moisture in the room drains away.
The the air crackles with heat, and you find it suddenly impossible to blink as your eyes dry out completely.

The aged, grey-blue eyed rugged man sends you a telepathic message:
    "So...I hear things just got...interestin' in tha' Reds...ya' there?"

[FamousAmos]

Fascinated, the fit, keen-eyed woman looks up at the portly, sallow-eyed templar.

The sleek, black-haired templar glances up at the portly, sallow-eyed templar, before quickly lowering his gaze away from the bald, birthmarked black-robed templar.

The lofty, night-crowned man gags and chokes, lurching forward as he collapses onto his belly with a thump.

The dawn-haired, bay-skinned templar's breath rasps in her thoat.

The rugged man with flint-grey eyes groans, hiding his face against his armored arms.

The wan, fine-boned blonde's eyes clench closed and she covers her face with gloved hands.

A foreign presence contacts your mind.

The blonde, mocha-skinned woman reaches for her eyes and curls up into a little ball on the ground, clearing her throat with a whimper.

The pot-bellied, black-robed templar waves one hand negligantly, and there is a *popping* sound and a shimmer of energy around the portly, sallow-eyed templar, who falls to the ground in a bloody heap, gasping and wheezing.

The warted, deep red half-giant watches the portly, sallow-eyed templar.

Daring to find some sort of refuge, the lanky, sandy-brown man raises the hood of his jade-shouldered black dustcloak, hiding himself in its folds.

The fair, krath-locked woman's skin goes a dark shade of red as she remains face-first against the floor.

The slim, bearded man sends you a telepathic message:
    "...Are you alright..!? What.... What is happening? Can you get out?"

You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.

The tiny, bushy-maned woman just trembles where she is curled over her legs.

Sobbing and whimpering is heard as the crowd of tavern-goers shrinks away as far as possible from the portly, sallow-eyed templar and the bald, birthmarked black-robed templar.

Resting his hands on his ample belly, the pot-bellied, black-robed templar says to the bald, birthmarked black-robed templar, in sirihish:
    "I'm afraid Caleo belongs to -me- now, Tarith."

You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.

The fit, keen-eyed woman looks up at the pot-bellied, black-robed templar.

Stealing just a glance, the dawn-haired, bay-skinned templar looks up at the pot-bellied, black-robed templar.

The blonde, mocha-skinned woman tries to drag herself, crawling, behind the bar.

The short, slender man lays on the floor dazedly.

Daring to bare one red-streaked eye, the rugged man with flint-grey eyes looks up at the pot-bellied, black-robed templar.

Searching the room for an instant, the stocky, sun-bronzed man looks up at the pot-bellied, black-robed templar.

During a very infrequent glance toward the middle of the tavern, the tiny, bushy-maned woman looks up at the pot-bellied, black-robed templar.

Covered in blood, the portly, sallow-eyed templar crawls and claws his way along the floor towards the pot-bellied, black-robed templar.

l black.robed.templar's ring
  This is a small thin ring, made of shining pure silver.  The top of
the ring has a round face on it.  On this face is an inset image of a hawk
flying over a wagon, the insignia of the Allanak noble house Rennik.  The
insignia is raised slightly, to be used for stamping or sealing wax. 

The curly-haired, droopy-eyed woman whimpers low in her throat.

Through bleary, tear-blurred eyes, the lofty, night-crowned man looks up at the pot-bellied, black-robed templar.

The tall figure in a jade-shouldered black dustcloak looks up at the pot-bellied, black-robed templar, twitching for a glance for a split moment.

The lofty, night-crowned man immediately presses his face to the floor again.

Glancing aside from her own place behind the bar, the tall, amber-eyed woman looks down at you.

The blonde, mocha-skinned woman coughs softly as she tries to smother herself with a hand.

The bald, birthmarked black-robed templar snarls, his face twisting in animalistic rage.

His voice raising thunderously, the bald, birthmarked black-robed templar exclaims, in sirihish:
    "You have unbalanced -everything-! You fool!"

As she shifts a little on the ground, the rubenesque, tawny-haired woman looks up at the pot-bellied, black-robed templar, and then stretches her hand to paw at the tiny, bushy-maned woman, eyes downturned again.

Eyes wide, the dawn-haired, bay-skinned templar looks up at the bald, birthmarked black-robed templar.

The pot-bellied, black-robed templar shrugs and gestures with one hand. A gout of flame erupts from his outstretched finger, encircling the bald, birthmarked black-robed templar.

The fair, krath-locked woman trembles visibly.

The figure in a hooded, black and azure aba has arrived from the north, JUST inside the doorway.
The tall figure in a set of hooded, fiery crimson robes has arrived from the north.

The wan, fine-boned blonde whimpers and scurries under a table.

The tiny, bushy-maned woman starts to inch under the nearby table in a series of slow squirms.

The wiry, blue-eyed man starts at the flames.

The blonde, mocha-skinned woman yelps softly at the sudden flames.

The lofty, night-crowned man tries to scramble back as far as he can without rising up, a tangle of awkwardly long limbs.

The stocky, sun-bronzed man looks up at the bald, birthmarked black-robed templar.

Sobbing with fear, the rugged man with flint-grey eyes scrunches across the floor to put himself in front of the lofty, night-crowned man, huddling.

The tall figure in a jade-shouldered black dustcloak shakes under his cloak, taking cover against the ground.

The bald, birthmarked black-robed templar hisses and swipes both hands through the air, cutting through the flames and redirecting them towards the tavern entrance.

The figure in a hooded, black and azure aba lifts an arm up to halt the tall figure in a set of hooded, fiery crimson robes, not fully entering the room from the northern plaza.

Staring, the fit, keen-eyed woman looks up at the pot-bellied, black-robed templar.

The short, slender man reaches to the side, grasping at the wiry, blue-eyed man's hand.

A gout of flames envelop the figure in a hooded, black and azure aba and the tall figure in a set of hooded, fiery crimson robes!

contact shahzi
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the slim, bearded man with the Way.

The figure in a hooded, black and azure aba tries to push the tall figure in a set of hooded, fiery crimson robes aside, then simply screams, flailing to the floor.

A foreign presence contacts your mind.

You send a telepathic message to the slim, bearded man:
    "BOW AS IF YOUR LIFE DEPENDS ON IT!"

The figure in a hooded, black and azure aba sits down to rest.

ceas
You dissolve the psychic link.

The wiry, blue-eyed man huddles close to the short, slender man, trembling.

The tall figure in a set of hooded, fiery crimson robes jumps apart from the figure in a hooded, black and azure aba, seared by sudden flames.

The figure in a hooded, black and azure aba tries to fall prostrate, crying out in pain.

The bald, birthmarked black-robed templar shouts in rage and levels both hands at the pot-bellied, black-robed templar - screaming, translucent skulls stream from his palms, scattering across the tavern at chest level.

The screams of the skulls burn into your mind, and you feel madness lingering at the edges of your consciousness.

The rangy, slit-eyed man sends you a telepathic message:
    "I don't dare go in!"

You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.

The pot-bellied, black-robed templar lifts his arms over his head, and a sickly green shield shimmers into existence around his body, absorbing the skulls.

The lofty, night-crowned man clutches at his own face, clawing!

Groaning, the rugged man with flint-grey eyes says, in sirihish:
    "Highlord Highlord help us..."

The dawn-haired, bay-skinned templar's hands rise and press to her ears.

As one, the room of people screams and clutches at their eyes.

The blonde, mocha-skinned woman holds her head as she kicks out a leg, whimpering and crying.

The wiry, blue-eyed man grips his head with one hand, fingers digging into his scalp.

Trembling hand reaching out suddenly and taking the hair, the fair, krath-locked woman drags the blonde, dark-skined half-elf a cord closer on the floor, holding him as a shield while remaining face-down.

The curly-haired, droopy-eyed woman jerks her hands over her ears.

The tall figure in a set of hooded, fiery crimson robes levels himself onto the ground, digging fingers into the ground and hisses out.

The tiny, bushy-maned woman tucks her head into her arms, her high-pitched scream probably lost in the crowd's.

The tall figure in a jade-shouldered black dustcloak covers his head with his pair of black chitinous sleeves, holding onto himself for dear life.

The bald, birthmarked black-robed templar turns to stare directly at the hawk-eyed, broad chinned man, then levels a finger at him.

The pot-bellied, black-robed templar opens his mouth impossibly wide, his lower jaw snapping sickly, and -screams-. Visible shockwaves ripple through the air, slamming into the bald, birthmarked black-robed templar.

The lofty, night-crowned man scrambles for something, anyone, the nearest person or object he can grab, one hand still digging at his own face, mercifully gloved in silk.

The massive, wyvern-tattooed man huddled with his arms around the fit, keen-eyed woman, as though to protect her.

The bald, birthmarked black-robed templar is thrown backwards, twisting as he flies through the air and into the plaza outside the tavern.

[FamousAmos]

The lofty, night-crowned man grinds his teeth and groans, a pitiful, painful sound.

The figure in a hooded, black and azure aba roars out in pain, his uniform seared and burned all over.

The pot-bellied, black-robed templar strides forward, gliding through the air and into the plaza.

The wan, fine-boned blonde curls up into a fetal position under a table and lets out a sudden shreik.

The short, slender man cries out and huddles into a ball beside the wiry, blue-eyed man.

The slim, bearded man lowers the hood of his hooded, black and azure aba.

The tall figure in a set of hooded, fiery crimson robes ducks, scrambling out of the way of the walking and flying templars.

You hear a man's voice shout from the north in sirihish:
    "This city is MINE! Your time is OVER!"

Beaded in sweat, the rubenesque, tawny-haired woman crawls and shifts awkwardly in an effort to drape and wrap her arm around the tiny, bushy-maned woman.

People scramble for every exit, pushing and shoving and screaming.

The lofty, night-crowned man reaches out and grabs the rugged man with flint-grey eyes' leg.

You hear a man's voice shout from the north in sirihish:
    "You incompetant fool!"

(The blonde, mocha-skinned woman is crying and whimpering, seemingly lost to her pain as she's curled up against the bar, shivering visibly.)

The wiry, blue-eyed man intently scans the area.

l n
A curved archway leads out onto a dusty plaza.
[Very far]
Nothing.
[Far]
The figure in a jade-hued, black-moon adorned duster is standing here.
A line of lizards is carved atop a red sandstone wall.
[Near]
The pot-bellied, black-robed templar is standing here.
The bald, birthmarked, black-robed templar is standing here.
The rangy, slit-eyed man is here, gawking at the scene in the tavern.
A clay-stained human potter sits here on a woven mat of grass.
A lithe, obsidian-eyed woman lounges near the tavern entrance.
The scrawny, sunken-eyed beggar grovels for coins here piteously.

The fair, krath-locked woman wrenches at the half-elf's throat, holding him firm before her trembling floor-bound self.

You begin watching the north exit.

The dawn-haired, bay-skinned templar stands up.

l
The Main Room of the Red's Retreat [N, S, W]
A wall here is designated as a message board.
The tall figure in a set of hooded, fiery crimson robes is here, kneeled onto the ground, face down.
The slim, bearded man is reclining here.
The hawk-eyed, broad chinned man is reclining here.
The massive, wyvern-tattooed man watches his surroundings.
The fit, keen-eyed woman is prone before the Black Robe.
The warted, deep red half-giant is kneeling down.
The portly, sallow-eyed templar is standing here.
The stocky, sun-bronzed man is here on all fours, prostrate.
The rubenesque, tawny-haired woman is prostrate on the ground here.
The wan, fine-boned blonde is bent forward, knees on the floor.
The fair, krath-locked woman is face down on the floor, bowed.
The tall figure in a jade-shouldered black dustcloak has fallen flat on the tavern's floor, tensed up.
The wiry, blue-eyed man is prostrated fully on the floor.
A half-giant soldier is standing here.
The sleek, black-haired templar is standing here.
A half-giant soldier is standing here.
A half-giant soldier is standing here.
The dawn-haired, bay-skinned templar is standing here.
A half-giant soldier is standing here.
The curly-haired, droopy-eyed woman is sitting here.
The rugged man with flint-grey eyes lays belly down on the floor.
The purple-dreadlocked, dark-skinned woman is standing here.
The tiny, bushy-maned woman is sitting here.
The short, slender man is huddled on the floor.
The smooth-shaven, turquoise-eyed woman is prostrated on the floor.
The lofty, night-crowned man is prostrated on the floor.
A tall, amber-eyed woman serves drinks from behind a boxy wooden bar.
The small, dark-haired man sits drinking at a table in the corner.
A husky dwarf sits on a stone-seated stool at the bar.

To prevent himself from being trampled, the tall figure in a jade-shouldered black dustcloak stands up.

Very far to the north: the scarred green-eyed female dwarf walks south.
Far to the north: the scarred green-eyed female dwarf has arrived from the north.

The dawn-haired, bay-skinned templar moves to the doorway.

The sleek, black-haired templar comes to his feet in a hurry.

The slim, bearded man hisses, opening an eye, it searches and falls upon the tall figure in a set of hooded, fiery crimson robes.

At the sound of the lofty, night-crowned man's groan, the rugged man with flint-grey eyes somehow scrabbles closer to him, reaching to try to grab hold of him with a violently trembling hand.

The massive, wyvern-tattooed man grabs the fit, keen-eyed woman and hoists her into his arms.

Terrified, the lanky, sandy-brown man lowers the hood of his jade-shouldered black dustcloak, looking to the sleek, black-haired templar and the dawn-haired, bay-skinned templar for guidance.

Wiping her eyes and gasping for air, you stand up.
You stop watching the north exit.

The lofty, night-crowned man doesn't seem to be able to do much at the moment, and is probably at a great risk of being trod upon unless helped.

The sleek, black-haired templar stops leading the dawn-haired, bay-skinned templar.

Tugging the short, slender man up with him, hands trembling, the wiry, blue-eyed man stands up.

The scarred green-eyed female dwarf has arrived from the north.

The scarred green-eyed female dwarf walks west.

The dawn-haired, bay-skinned templar walks north.
The half-giant soldier walks north.
The half-giant soldier walks north.

The short, slender man rises from the ground, and clambers to his feet.

The scarred green-eyed female dwarf has arrived from the west.

Urgently, tugging at her, the rubenesque, tawny-haired woman says to the tiny, bushy-maned woman, in sirihish:
    "Ru, Ru. Let's go."

The sleek, black-haired templar walks north.
The half-giant soldier walks north.
The half-giant soldier walks north.

With a trembling voice, you say, in sirihish:
    "Wh-what...."

The wiry, blue-eyed man begins guarding the short, slender man.

You hear someone cry out in the distance.

l
The Main Room of the Red's Retreat [N, S, W]
A wall here is designated as a message board.
The scarred green-eyed female dwarf is standing here.
The tall figure in a set of hooded, fiery crimson robes is here, kneeled onto the ground, face down.
The slim, bearded man is reclining here.
The hawk-eyed, broad chinned man is reclining here.
The massive, wyvern-tattooed man watches his surroundings.
The fit, keen-eyed woman is prone before the Black Robe.
The warted, deep red half-giant is kneeling down.
The portly, sallow-eyed templar is standing here.
The stocky, sun-bronzed man is here on all fours, prostrate.
The rubenesque, tawny-haired woman is prostrate on the ground here.
The wan, fine-boned blonde is bent forward, knees on the floor.
The fair, krath-locked woman is face down on the floor, bowed.
The lanky, sandy-brown man is standing here.
The wiry, blue-eyed man is standing here.
The curly-haired, droopy-eyed woman is sitting here.
The rugged man with flint-grey eyes lays belly down on the floor.
The purple-dreadlocked, dark-skinned woman is standing here.
The tiny, bushy-maned woman huddles under the table.
The short, slender man is standing here.
The smooth-shaven, turquoise-eyed woman is prostrated on the floor.
The lofty, night-crowned man is prostrated on the floor.
A tall, amber-eyed woman serves drinks from behind a boxy wooden bar.
The small, dark-haired man sits drinking at a table in the corner.
A husky dwarf sits on a stone-seated stool at the bar.

The short, slender man exclaims to the curly-haired, droopy-eyed woman, in sirihish:
    "Get up!"

Carried by her guard, the fit, keen-eyed woman walks north.
The massive, wyvern-tattooed man walks north.

Weakly, trying to drag the lofty, night-crowned man up with him, the rugged man with flint-grey eyes rises and stands.

The stocky, sun-bronzed man rises from the ground, and clambers to his feet.

Swaying, his whole bulk haunched in, as if pressed down by something, the hawk-eyed, broad chinned man rises and stands.

The scarred green-eyed female dwarf stops bowing deeply before turning.

With the rugged man with flint-grey eyes' help, the lofty, night-crowned man stands up.

The short, slender man says to the wiry, blue-eyed man, in sirihish:
    "On me."

The lanky, sandy-brown man stops using his new chitin-studded anakore helm.

The scarred green-eyed female dwarf walks north.

The lofty, night-crowned man stops leading the rugged man with flint-grey eyes.

s
A Cluttered Space [N, E]
A lop-eared, squinting elf stands behind the counter.

l n
A small doorway leads into the noise of a busy tavern.
[Very far]
The massive, wyvern-tattooed man watches his surroundings.
The fit, keen-eyed woman is standing here.
The scarred green-eyed female dwarf is standing here.
The figure in a jade-hued, black-moon adorned duster is standing here.
[Far]
A half-giant soldier is standing here.
The sleek, black-haired templar is standing here.
A half-giant soldier is standing here.
A half-giant soldier is standing here.
The dawn-haired, bay-skinned templar is standing here.
A half-giant soldier is standing here.
A clay-stained human potter sits here on a woven mat of grass.
A lithe, obsidian-eyed woman lounges near the tavern entrance.
The scrawny, sunken-eyed beggar grovels for coins here piteously.
[Near]
The tall figure in a set of hooded, fiery crimson robes is standing here.
The slim, bearded man is reclining here.
The hawk-eyed, broad chinned man is standing here.
The warted, deep red half-giant is kneeling down.
The portly, sallow-eyed templar is standing here.
The stocky, sun-bronzed man is standing here.
The rubenesque, tawny-haired woman is standing here.
The wan, fine-boned blonde is bent forward, knees on the floor.
The fair, krath-locked woman is face down on the floor, bowed.
The lanky, sandy-brown man is standing here.
The wiry, blue-eyed man is standing here.
The curly-haired, droopy-eyed woman is sitting here.
The rugged man with flint-grey eyes is standing here.
The purple-dreadlocked, dark-skinned woman is standing here.
The tiny, bushy-maned woman huddles under the table.
The short, slender man is standing here.
The smooth-shaven, turquoise-eyed woman is prostrated on the floor.
The lofty, night-crowned man is standing here.
A tall, amber-eyed woman serves drinks from behind a boxy wooden bar.
The small, dark-haired man sits drinking at a table in the corner.
A husky dwarf sits on a stone-seated stool at the bar.

You hear a man's voice from the north say, in sirihish:
    "Firsts! To your feet, Firsts!"

The blonde, mocha-skinned woman takes a deep breath, resting her hand on her chest as she stares at the ground wide eyed.

Two figures streak into the air over the city, surrounded by magickal energies.

think Wh-what just happened?
You think:
    "Wh-what just happened?"

You hear a woman's voice from the north say, in sirihish:
    "Ru! We need to go!"

--------------------------------