Menu
News
All News
Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
Pathfinder
Starfinder
Warhammer
2d20 System
Year Zero Engine
Industry News
Reviews
Dragon Reflections
Columns
Weekly Digests
Weekly News Digest
Freebies, Sales & Bundles
RPG Print News
RPG Crowdfunding News
Game Content
ENterplanetary DimENsions
Mythological Figures
Opinion
Worlds of Design
Peregrine's Next
RPG Evolution
Other Columns
From the Freelancing Frontline
Monster ENcyclopedia
WotC/TSR Alumni Look Back
4 Hours w/RSD (Ryan Dancey)
The Road to 3E (Jonathan Tweet)
Greenwood's Realms (Ed Greenwood)
Drawmij's TSR (Jim Ward)
Community
Forums & Topics
Forum List
Latest Posts
Forum list
*Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
D&D Older Editions
*TTRPGs General
*Pathfinder & Starfinder
EN Publishing
*Geek Talk & Media
Search forums
Chat/Discord
Resources
Wiki
Pages
Latest activity
Media
New media
New comments
Search media
Downloads
Latest reviews
Search resources
EN Publishing
Store
EN5ider
Adventures in ZEITGEIST
Awfully Cheerful Engine
What's OLD is NEW
Judge Dredd & The Worlds Of 2000AD
War of the Burning Sky
Level Up: Advanced 5E
Events & Releases
Upcoming Events
Private Events
Featured Events
Socials!
Twitch
YouTube
Facebook (EN Publishing)
Facebook (EN World)
Twitter
Instagram
TikTok
Podcast
Features
Top 5 RPGs Compiled Charts 2004-Present
Adventure Game Industry Market Research Summary (RPGs) V1.0
Ryan Dancey: Acquiring TSR
Q&A With Gary Gygax
D&D Rules FAQs
TSR, WotC, & Paizo: A Comparative History
D&D Pronunciation Guide
Million Dollar TTRPG Kickstarters
Tabletop RPG Podcast Hall of Fame
Eric Noah's Unofficial D&D 3rd Edition News
D&D in the Mainstream
D&D & RPG History
About Morrus
Log in
Register
What's new
Search
Search
Search titles only
By:
Forums & Topics
Forum List
Latest Posts
Forum list
*Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
D&D Older Editions
*TTRPGs General
*Pathfinder & Starfinder
EN Publishing
*Geek Talk & Media
Search forums
Chat/Discord
Menu
Log in
Register
Install the app
Install
Community
Playing the Game
Story Hour
Barsoom Tales II: Romance, Revolution and BLOODY REVENGE!!! -- COMPLETE
JavaScript is disabled. For a better experience, please enable JavaScript in your browser before proceeding.
You are using an out of date browser. It may not display this or other websites correctly.
You should upgrade or use an
alternative browser
.
Reply to thread
Message
<blockquote data-quote="barsoomcore" data-source="post: 3648660" data-attributes="member: 812"><p><strong>Another Fine Mess: 2</strong></p><p></p><p>In Nevid's mind, ten thousand doomed souls wailed. Smoke and flame rose, taller than city towers, taller than the mountains in the distance, stretching up to reach the clouds, swirling upwards in a great pillar of horror and destruction.</p><p></p><p>The city tore itself into scraps and fragments, whirling and shrieking with the force of a hurricane. Centered around a tiny speck of crimson, a figure that stood with arms outstretched, black hair towering above a dazzling gown of red and gold.</p><p></p><p>It turned to face him. Reaching. Beautiful. Laughing.</p><p></p><p>Nevid awoke, sitting upright on his bunk. Beneath him, Isaac snored his deafening rumble. Their tiny cabin, grey with half-dawn light, echoed with unfamiliar noise and activity. Wiping strange images and unnameable fears from his mind, he lowered himself to the deck and made his way outside, where the crew rushed about.</p><p></p><p>He spoke to a nearby sailor.</p><p></p><p>"What's happened?"</p><p></p><p>The sailor pointed across the waves to the shore.</p><p></p><p>"We've arrived."</p><p></p><p>*****</p><p></p><p>Of all the sights beneath the pink sky of Barsoom, the northern shore of the Narid was not, decided Elena, among the most picturesque.</p><p></p><p>She'd been expecting majestic sand dunes, palm trees clustered around oases, everything golden and beautiful.</p><p></p><p>Instead, she found herself considering a seemingly endless straight muddy beach behind which lurked grey gravelly plains, pale and indistinct and featureless. Clouds hung low and gloomy over the scene, as long rollers broke in dull, monotonous thunder across miles of mud flats. Seabirds and dactyls keened overhead.</p><p></p><p>The only note of interest in sight was the flat-topped rise a mile or so inland, upon which lay (so they were told) the home of the man they sought.</p><p></p><p><em>Thuria's Dream</em> could not come too close to the shore, unable to press very far into the gently shelving shallows. She lowered anchor and swung to, rolling in the gentle surf. Sailors bustled about lowering the ship's boat and swaying up the massive crates holding the rifles and ammunition.</p><p></p><p>Elena watched the proceedings with interest but not much comprehension. Some of her comrades, especially Etienne, had spent the last few weeks learning seamanship, but she'd been content to sit out of the way and discuss the many strange things she and her friends had experienced in the past months.</p><p></p><p>She and Arrafin had speculated a great deal on the nature of some of those events. They carried a marble skull that Arrafin believed had once belonged to the great Naridic king, Sulekar ben Azan, and that held remarkable properties, able to heal injuries and detect the presence of undead creatures. Undead creatures such as Laughter of Stones, a sad but noble dark-skinned warrior doomed to spend eternity hunting down and destroying some near-extinct enemy race, and Mara, a terrible vampire child who'd seemed unstoppable until Elena had struck her with an ancient black blade taken from the tomb of the legendary Essermane Varag, terror of ancient Al-Tizim. Elena rested a hand on the guard of that sword, which was too big to carry in a scabbard and instead leaned against the rail next to her, wrapped in a nondescript rug pinched from Marques' storeroom in Pavairelle. Arrafin had been so excited to find the tomb of Essermane Varag.</p><p></p><p>Arrafin. Elena shook her head to herself as she watched the skinny girl with the massive tangle of curls on her head describe the history of this particular stretch of Naridic coastline to Isaac and Etienne. She gesticulated as she spoke, slender fingers dancing in the air as her soft Naridic accent rose and fell. Neither of the two young men displayed much real interest in her tale, but they listened and nodded politely as she carried on most of the conversation by herself.</p><p></p><p>Nearer the stern, Nevid stood with the captain, finalizing details for this trip ashore. Their companion Nevid (Elena couldn't bring herself to call the incommunicative young man a friend) was certainly resourceful, and clever enough, but Elena often wondered where his true loyalties lay. His ties to the del Maraviez family were much tighter than the rest of them, and sometimes Elena got the sense that he was watching them, filing reports for his Familias bosses. She scowled as his slender form, elegantly fitted in a fine dark suit, leaned out over the rail to call out some instructions to the sailors in the boat below.</p><p></p><p>Soon the heavy crates lay secured in the boat. Elena nodded at a gesture from Isaac and came forward as he and Etienne clambered down to where sailors held the boat steady. Nevid followed them and then it was she and Arrafin. The Naridic girl considered the climb down with discomfort.</p><p></p><p>"Gee, Elena, that's, um, that's a long way down. When you really look at it. Isn't it?"</p><p></p><p>The rail of <em>Thuria's Dream</em> was a spear's length or so above the gunwales of the boat.</p><p></p><p>"Isaac will help you down. Won't you, Isaac?"</p><p></p><p>"What? Oh, of course. Here, Arrafin."</p><p></p><p>Isaac reached up and Arrafin swung herself gingerly over the rail. She gulped as Isaac's big hands took hold of her, nearly encircling her about the waist. He chuckled, swinging her easily down into the boat.</p><p></p><p>"Good grief, girl, you weigh less than my cigar case. We're lucky you didn't blow overboard on the trip."</p><p></p><p>"I hung on tight. Thank you."</p><p></p><p>With laborious strokes the sailors heaved the little boat through the rollers towards shore. Waves that had barely rocked <em>Thuria's Dream</em> sent the longboat pitching and heaving, and whitecaps cresting over the stern showered all the passengers with salty spray. The sailors pulled on their oars and soon the boat's hull scraped on wet gravel. Everyone except Arrafin and Nevid jumped out and began running the boat further up into the shallows.</p><p></p><p>Elena, pushing at the gunwale, frowned at Nevid. The young man was studying the seat in front of him with furious concentration.</p><p></p><p>"You okay, Nevid?"</p><p></p><p>"Strange dreams. Strange dreams."</p><p></p><p>*****</p><p></p><p>"You're going to get us all killed, Tariq."</p><p></p><p>"Nonsense. God is with us, you coward. We are working in the service of faith, Israhel. No harm can come to us."</p><p></p><p>"We're all going to die."</p><p></p><p>"Another word, Israhel, and you will die here and now, I swear so upon the hilt of my saber. Another word, and I strike, and may God have mercy upon you. If you will have no faith in me, have faith in God who watches over us. But know that I have planned for these dogs. They will not return home."</p><p></p><p>Fayeeda watched Israhel subside. The beni Rifaa were not famous for their courage, but she couldn't blame the young man for backing down in the face of her uncle's blustering menace. Tariq al-Musharran beni Howetait carried all the wild violence of the Howetait tribe, mixed with a crazed sense of self-confidence that indeed got people around him killed as often as not.</p><p></p><p>Tariq chuckled as he watched the rowboat come towards the beach, weathering end-to-end sprays as waves rushed past it. Armed men jumped out and ran the boat up as far as it would go, and Tariq started forward. He waved his crew to come with him.</p><p></p><p>"Help these lazy northern dogs unload, you useless banth droppings."</p><p></p><p>He spread his arms as a big Saijadani man, cigar clenched in his teeth, approached. Tariq laughed and called out in Imperial Kishak.</p><p></p><p>"My very good friends! How delighted I am to see you! God smiles upon us today!"</p><p></p><p>The Saijadani man grimaced. He and Tariq were well-matched both in size and evident menace.</p><p></p><p>"I'm sure. You Achmed?"</p><p></p><p>Fayeeda startled at the mention of her father. The man with the cigar took no notice, but the broad-shouldered Saijadani woman behind him narrowed her eyes at the girl. Fayeeda looked away, surprised to note a Naridic girl among the strangers, peering past the frowning Saijadani woman. Beni Howetait, to judge by her dark skin and wild curls.</p><p></p><p>Tariq laughed more.</p><p></p><p>"Not I. Achmed, that shiftless vulture? Ha. No, I am Tariq al-Musharran beni Howetait, Achmed's brother, and you are my guests and business partners. You bring the guns from Pavairelle, yes?"</p><p></p><p>"Where's Achmed?"</p><p></p><p>"Tragically captured by a Kishak patrol only days ago. I have taken over in his absence, with God's blessing."</p><p></p><p>The Saijadani man looked back at the rowboat with a frown, noticing how Tariq's gang were unloading the heavy crates there.</p><p></p><p>"You owe us some gold before you can take those guns, you know."</p><p></p><p>"Of course, my friend. But first, why not take some refreshment in our village atop the hill you see just behind me? Surely we can discuss business there? Why all this seriousness, my friend? This is an occasion for joy! Together we shall smash the Kishak bastards and drive their red filth from the desert, God willing."</p><p></p><p>"You do have the gold, yes?"</p><p></p><p>"Of course! As God is my witness."</p><p></p><p>"Perhaps you could show it to us?"</p><p></p><p>Tariq scoffed, pretending insult. He reached into a shoulder bag and displayed a thick golden ingot.</p><p></p><p>Another Saijadani man, much smaller than the first and with the appearance of a clerk or a scholar, stepped forward.</p><p></p><p>"May I have a look?"</p><p></p><p>Tariq tossed the bar into the air. The young Saijadani stepped back to let it fall into the wet sand, then crouched to study the gleaming bar. Fayeeda considered the young man. He was handsome, in a delicate way. He straightened and nodded to the larger man. </p><p></p><p>"It's Kishak. Looks genuine."</p><p></p><p>The big Saijadani man turned back to Tariq.</p><p></p><p>"So where's the rest? You've got the guns."</p><p></p><p>Tariq grinned as his men staggered past, carting the heavy crates of weapons. The boat was already empty and the guns well on their way.</p><p></p><p>"Yes, thank God. We have the guns. And I'm afraid, my northern friend, that you now have all the gold that we possess. I thank you for your generosity. You are beloved of God."</p><p></p><p>To Fayeeda's surprise, the Saijadani man just nodded. He didn't seem angry or even surprised. He stepped forward. With a gesture, Tariq called up his three bodyguards, savage Howetait warriors who spoke to no one save their employer. These men raised their rifles to their shoulders, all three weapon barrels trained on the big Saijadani man.</p><p></p><p>He made no move for the pistols at his belt. He just shrugged. His casual lack of concern impressed Fayeeda. She hadn't thought northerners could possess that sort of courage.</p><p></p><p>"We didn't come here to fight you. But we aren't leaving without that gold. That would irritate our employers. And trust me, you don't want to irritate them."</p><p></p><p>Tariq bowed.</p><p></p><p>"I have no wish to irritate anyone beyond the Kishaks and their seething lapdogs. Come. Come join us in our humble village, and we will tell you the tale."</p><p></p><p>"This had better be good."</p><p></p><p>The Saijadani woman stepped up to her friend and spoke quietly, but Fayeeda could just hear her.</p><p></p><p>"You're going to get us all killed, Isaac."</p><p></p><p>"Didn't you hear? I am beloved of God. You lot can look out for yourselves."</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="barsoomcore, post: 3648660, member: 812"] [b]Another Fine Mess: 2[/b] In Nevid's mind, ten thousand doomed souls wailed. Smoke and flame rose, taller than city towers, taller than the mountains in the distance, stretching up to reach the clouds, swirling upwards in a great pillar of horror and destruction. The city tore itself into scraps and fragments, whirling and shrieking with the force of a hurricane. Centered around a tiny speck of crimson, a figure that stood with arms outstretched, black hair towering above a dazzling gown of red and gold. It turned to face him. Reaching. Beautiful. Laughing. Nevid awoke, sitting upright on his bunk. Beneath him, Isaac snored his deafening rumble. Their tiny cabin, grey with half-dawn light, echoed with unfamiliar noise and activity. Wiping strange images and unnameable fears from his mind, he lowered himself to the deck and made his way outside, where the crew rushed about. He spoke to a nearby sailor. "What's happened?" The sailor pointed across the waves to the shore. "We've arrived." ***** Of all the sights beneath the pink sky of Barsoom, the northern shore of the Narid was not, decided Elena, among the most picturesque. She'd been expecting majestic sand dunes, palm trees clustered around oases, everything golden and beautiful. Instead, she found herself considering a seemingly endless straight muddy beach behind which lurked grey gravelly plains, pale and indistinct and featureless. Clouds hung low and gloomy over the scene, as long rollers broke in dull, monotonous thunder across miles of mud flats. Seabirds and dactyls keened overhead. The only note of interest in sight was the flat-topped rise a mile or so inland, upon which lay (so they were told) the home of the man they sought. [i]Thuria's Dream[/i] could not come too close to the shore, unable to press very far into the gently shelving shallows. She lowered anchor and swung to, rolling in the gentle surf. Sailors bustled about lowering the ship's boat and swaying up the massive crates holding the rifles and ammunition. Elena watched the proceedings with interest but not much comprehension. Some of her comrades, especially Etienne, had spent the last few weeks learning seamanship, but she'd been content to sit out of the way and discuss the many strange things she and her friends had experienced in the past months. She and Arrafin had speculated a great deal on the nature of some of those events. They carried a marble skull that Arrafin believed had once belonged to the great Naridic king, Sulekar ben Azan, and that held remarkable properties, able to heal injuries and detect the presence of undead creatures. Undead creatures such as Laughter of Stones, a sad but noble dark-skinned warrior doomed to spend eternity hunting down and destroying some near-extinct enemy race, and Mara, a terrible vampire child who'd seemed unstoppable until Elena had struck her with an ancient black blade taken from the tomb of the legendary Essermane Varag, terror of ancient Al-Tizim. Elena rested a hand on the guard of that sword, which was too big to carry in a scabbard and instead leaned against the rail next to her, wrapped in a nondescript rug pinched from Marques' storeroom in Pavairelle. Arrafin had been so excited to find the tomb of Essermane Varag. Arrafin. Elena shook her head to herself as she watched the skinny girl with the massive tangle of curls on her head describe the history of this particular stretch of Naridic coastline to Isaac and Etienne. She gesticulated as she spoke, slender fingers dancing in the air as her soft Naridic accent rose and fell. Neither of the two young men displayed much real interest in her tale, but they listened and nodded politely as she carried on most of the conversation by herself. Nearer the stern, Nevid stood with the captain, finalizing details for this trip ashore. Their companion Nevid (Elena couldn't bring herself to call the incommunicative young man a friend) was certainly resourceful, and clever enough, but Elena often wondered where his true loyalties lay. His ties to the del Maraviez family were much tighter than the rest of them, and sometimes Elena got the sense that he was watching them, filing reports for his Familias bosses. She scowled as his slender form, elegantly fitted in a fine dark suit, leaned out over the rail to call out some instructions to the sailors in the boat below. Soon the heavy crates lay secured in the boat. Elena nodded at a gesture from Isaac and came forward as he and Etienne clambered down to where sailors held the boat steady. Nevid followed them and then it was she and Arrafin. The Naridic girl considered the climb down with discomfort. "Gee, Elena, that's, um, that's a long way down. When you really look at it. Isn't it?" The rail of [i]Thuria's Dream[/i] was a spear's length or so above the gunwales of the boat. "Isaac will help you down. Won't you, Isaac?" "What? Oh, of course. Here, Arrafin." Isaac reached up and Arrafin swung herself gingerly over the rail. She gulped as Isaac's big hands took hold of her, nearly encircling her about the waist. He chuckled, swinging her easily down into the boat. "Good grief, girl, you weigh less than my cigar case. We're lucky you didn't blow overboard on the trip." "I hung on tight. Thank you." With laborious strokes the sailors heaved the little boat through the rollers towards shore. Waves that had barely rocked [i]Thuria's Dream[/i] sent the longboat pitching and heaving, and whitecaps cresting over the stern showered all the passengers with salty spray. The sailors pulled on their oars and soon the boat's hull scraped on wet gravel. Everyone except Arrafin and Nevid jumped out and began running the boat further up into the shallows. Elena, pushing at the gunwale, frowned at Nevid. The young man was studying the seat in front of him with furious concentration. "You okay, Nevid?" "Strange dreams. Strange dreams." ***** "You're going to get us all killed, Tariq." "Nonsense. God is with us, you coward. We are working in the service of faith, Israhel. No harm can come to us." "We're all going to die." "Another word, Israhel, and you will die here and now, I swear so upon the hilt of my saber. Another word, and I strike, and may God have mercy upon you. If you will have no faith in me, have faith in God who watches over us. But know that I have planned for these dogs. They will not return home." Fayeeda watched Israhel subside. The beni Rifaa were not famous for their courage, but she couldn't blame the young man for backing down in the face of her uncle's blustering menace. Tariq al-Musharran beni Howetait carried all the wild violence of the Howetait tribe, mixed with a crazed sense of self-confidence that indeed got people around him killed as often as not. Tariq chuckled as he watched the rowboat come towards the beach, weathering end-to-end sprays as waves rushed past it. Armed men jumped out and ran the boat up as far as it would go, and Tariq started forward. He waved his crew to come with him. "Help these lazy northern dogs unload, you useless banth droppings." He spread his arms as a big Saijadani man, cigar clenched in his teeth, approached. Tariq laughed and called out in Imperial Kishak. "My very good friends! How delighted I am to see you! God smiles upon us today!" The Saijadani man grimaced. He and Tariq were well-matched both in size and evident menace. "I'm sure. You Achmed?" Fayeeda startled at the mention of her father. The man with the cigar took no notice, but the broad-shouldered Saijadani woman behind him narrowed her eyes at the girl. Fayeeda looked away, surprised to note a Naridic girl among the strangers, peering past the frowning Saijadani woman. Beni Howetait, to judge by her dark skin and wild curls. Tariq laughed more. "Not I. Achmed, that shiftless vulture? Ha. No, I am Tariq al-Musharran beni Howetait, Achmed's brother, and you are my guests and business partners. You bring the guns from Pavairelle, yes?" "Where's Achmed?" "Tragically captured by a Kishak patrol only days ago. I have taken over in his absence, with God's blessing." The Saijadani man looked back at the rowboat with a frown, noticing how Tariq's gang were unloading the heavy crates there. "You owe us some gold before you can take those guns, you know." "Of course, my friend. But first, why not take some refreshment in our village atop the hill you see just behind me? Surely we can discuss business there? Why all this seriousness, my friend? This is an occasion for joy! Together we shall smash the Kishak bastards and drive their red filth from the desert, God willing." "You do have the gold, yes?" "Of course! As God is my witness." "Perhaps you could show it to us?" Tariq scoffed, pretending insult. He reached into a shoulder bag and displayed a thick golden ingot. Another Saijadani man, much smaller than the first and with the appearance of a clerk or a scholar, stepped forward. "May I have a look?" Tariq tossed the bar into the air. The young Saijadani stepped back to let it fall into the wet sand, then crouched to study the gleaming bar. Fayeeda considered the young man. He was handsome, in a delicate way. He straightened and nodded to the larger man. "It's Kishak. Looks genuine." The big Saijadani man turned back to Tariq. "So where's the rest? You've got the guns." Tariq grinned as his men staggered past, carting the heavy crates of weapons. The boat was already empty and the guns well on their way. "Yes, thank God. We have the guns. And I'm afraid, my northern friend, that you now have all the gold that we possess. I thank you for your generosity. You are beloved of God." To Fayeeda's surprise, the Saijadani man just nodded. He didn't seem angry or even surprised. He stepped forward. With a gesture, Tariq called up his three bodyguards, savage Howetait warriors who spoke to no one save their employer. These men raised their rifles to their shoulders, all three weapon barrels trained on the big Saijadani man. He made no move for the pistols at his belt. He just shrugged. His casual lack of concern impressed Fayeeda. She hadn't thought northerners could possess that sort of courage. "We didn't come here to fight you. But we aren't leaving without that gold. That would irritate our employers. And trust me, you don't want to irritate them." Tariq bowed. "I have no wish to irritate anyone beyond the Kishaks and their seething lapdogs. Come. Come join us in our humble village, and we will tell you the tale." "This had better be good." The Saijadani woman stepped up to her friend and spoke quietly, but Fayeeda could just hear her. "You're going to get us all killed, Isaac." "Didn't you hear? I am beloved of God. You lot can look out for yourselves." [/QUOTE]
Insert quotes…
Verification
Post reply
Community
Playing the Game
Story Hour
Barsoom Tales II: Romance, Revolution and BLOODY REVENGE!!! -- COMPLETE
Top