Insight's Dark Sun: Burning Sands Campaign - IC

[Insight]

DARK SUN: BURNING SANDS
IN-CHARACTER THREAD 1

Character Roster
OOC Thread

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I find that I like it best in the morning. The sands are calm. The winds are pleasant. My master sleeps and that is for the best, for everyone's sake. I know the slaves, for I am one of them, and I know well the harshness of my master's touch. I know the barbed whip. I know the back of his hand. Most important of all, however, is that I know his touch. My master can be a brute, but he can also love. Only I know this side of my master. It is only to me that he shows his vulnerability. I know shades of the master of which precious few can dream. The winds and sands of Athas are like my master in many ways. Sometimes, I wonder if perhaps he and Athas are one creature. The morning is when the master sleeps, as does Athas. It is when he awakes, when the wind rises in intensity, when the heat increases to staggering levels, that one must take care. You must not anger the master, and you must not trifle with Athas.

***

OOC: Each of you has been assigned a "job" at the Rarun Salt Mines.

Amica: Prepares food and performs other minor utility tasks at the HOUSE NJEER MAIN TENT.
Brandis: Assistant to ELOHASI, slave mistress to ERRO NJEER. Stationed mainly at the HOUSE NJEER MAIN TENT.
Kesh: Pushes a salt cart in and out of MINE SHAFT C.
Korg: Sub-chief at MINE SHAFT C.
Zimno: Messenger and scribe for ERRO NJEER. Carries orders to each of the mine shafts and other areas of the mines.

Use this time to "get into character". Describe your daily routine. Interact with other characters with whom you would reasonably interact while doing your job (I have ensured that each of you can interact with at least one other PC).

I'll be posting a map of the general area. This should help you figure out what's going on.

 

[Insight]

IMPORTANT NPCS
Here are the NPCs that have come into prominence thus far -

ERRO NJEER: Overseer of the Rarun Salt Mines. From what you gather, Erro is fairly insigificant in terms of House Njeer peerage, thus why he is "toiling" out in Rarun and not living a life of noble luxury in Nibenay. Erro is easy to anger and pays little attention to the needs of his slaves.
ELOHASI: A half-elf slave girl seldom far from Erro Njeer's side. She knows much about what's going on in Rarun and is privy to much more information (and secrets) than any other slave. Elohasi is loyal to her master, but still a slave, and knows her place.
URK: Chief provisioner for the Rarun site. He works closely with Erro Njeer and also the tent servants to distribute various supplies (food, water, mining tools, etc) throughout the mines and the site.
AKKAR: One of the sub-chiefs at Shaft C. He is fat and arrogant and quick to use his barbed whip.
HORRIN ATREYA: A member of House Atreya, a minor Nibenese noble house. Horrin, a youth, is the chief at Shaft C, but seems very out of place in a salt mine.

 

[DistractingFlare]

Kesh wakes up from a nightmare before the sun has even risen.

"That face," he mutters. "That name."

He begins his daily meditation, sitting in the slaves' quarters, clenching his fists, feeling the energy flowing through them. His mind wanders to The Officer. Kesh knows he should not distract himself with such thoughts. They weaken his focus. He sits in silence, unable to meditate, instead he broods - always fantasizing, always despairing.

The overseers come to the tent at dawn, and Kesh obeys them without thought. He thinks of The Officer. He pushes the salt cart into the hot depths of the mine. When it's full, he pushes it back to the unloading station. This is the limit of his existence. He has nothing to do except push the cart, and nothing to think about except The Officer.

He passes Korg on each trip.

"Morning, Master Dwarf," he says with deference.

Kesh slows his pace in order to hear his reply.

 

[stonegod]

In the morning, three guards came for him. They found him sitting, in the dark, where they had left him the evening before—shackled and blindfolded in the small room where they kept the meats and fruit. Where he kept them cold.

He hissed as the door opened, the morning air already warmer than the inside here. As always, they were careful. The white devil had bit off a guards thumb the last time they let him off the leash. There would be no mistakes.

They led him, blindfolded and still shackled, through the camp to the main tent. Zimno could walk the path without them, so many times had he done already, but they led him the same. He entered, still blindfolded. It was never to be removed except within the caves with their very heavily guarded—and obscured—exit.

The eladrin sniffed, smelling the sickly-sweet odors of the food and pungent stench of the incense someone had burned. He stood stiff, knowing what would come next. The slave girl—he had never seen her, but the smell and touch could mean nothing else—would try to give him food. One of the others—the male with the imperial voice (he could try to hide it, but it was still there) or someone else—would give him the orders, written of course. The one time it had been verbal orders, two task-masters broke their hands. Thinking about it almost made him smile.

So, he stood. And waited.

 

[drothgery]

The question, Brandis thought, was how to safely gain Elohasi's loyalty. He needed what she knew, if he was to successfully plan an escape. And there was no question of not planning an escape. He might play the obedient servant for Erro, if it kept him away from back-breaking physical labor he was ill-suited for, but it would take more than he had survived so far to make him into a truly docile slave.

There were people he could use in here, he thought. The strange figure they kept blindfolded. No one with his background could fail to recognize the psionic talent of the girl in the kitchens. The elf pushing a cart in the salt mines so that his hands would not be free for other tasks. The dwarf sub-chief in one of the mine shafts. He'd asked questions. Told people well, if not what they wanted to hear, what they would hear and believe. He didn't really like doing it, but there was no other way to learn who else was imprisoned at this mine. And the stories of those four drew him for some reason, even if he had only met the girl.

But if asking about the other slaves was considered innocuous by the masters, asking about how the mine was structured, guard numbers, schedules, and probable skill levels... that kind of question might very well get him killed, no matter what had stayed the Sorcerer-King's hand short of executing him before. Which brought him back to Elohasi. Who had certainly seen much of what he needed to know. And if she told him, and he made his attempt, she would need to escape with them if she did not wish to die. He might play games with people's emotions, but he did not intend for anyone to risk death without knowing what they were getting into.

Ever-so-noble, Brandis? You'll get most of these slaves killed, yourself foremost among them likely as not. And what will you do if you succeed? Return to Balic and strike Haraxes down from the dark? Find Micala and hope she doesn't blame you? Join the Veiled Alliance and hope they ask few questions as to where you gained your power from? Go to that madhouse in Tyr and try and build something resembling your old life?

 

[Shayuri]

Amica was in the Moment. In the Moment she made food. The ingredients she was provided with were substandard. She strained weevils out of the flour before making the bread, making sure that none remained. The water was cloudy, but she let it stand before using it, so the sediments sank to the bottom. In the Moment one used what one had, without regret for lacking better. In the Moment she was a creature without a history to miss and without a future to hope for. In the Moment, she could find peace...even something akin to happiness.

She saved scraps of special things sometimes...sugar, or spices most often. Then when she had enough, she would add some to the day's meal, as a pleasant surprise for the others. It had occurred to her that she could probably send messages by arranging food, or writing small messages in food, but so far she had no contacts among the larger society of slaves, and she didn't want to tip that hand too early.

Each idea she had was catalogued as neatly, hidden as effectively, as her little stash of good tastes. Their time would come. The masters of the camp mistook her passivity in the Moment as the mark of a broken, compliant soul. This too suited her purpose.

There was a push of wind against her thin, slave's dress...hot, dry wind from outside. Amica glanced over her shoulder and saw guards escorting the strange, pale elf into the tent. He was one of the few slaves she had regular contact with other than the other kitchen slaves...but she still had no idea what he did, or why he was treated differently.

The fear of the guards of their charge pounded in her temples like a sandstorm's winds as she approached with a bowl for him. He was blindfolded. He always was. Amica wondered what he'd done that singled him out for such precautions...yet was not so dire as to warrant summary execution.

She did not speak. She hadn't since she'd arrived. It suited her for them to believe she was mute, despite the hurts she'd endured as they'd tested her. A mute slave could not speak of what she'd seen, could not pass on overheard secrets. A mute slave was...safer...than most. To signal the elf-thing that it was time to be fed, she simply touched his cheek, near the corner of his mouth. She then carefully put the wooden spoon into his mouth and let him take the food off of it. When he pushed it with his tongue, she removed it and the cycle started over. It was a simple rhythm, established through some occasionally messy trial and error, now memorized as elegantly as any dance before a sorceror-king's court.

Maybe it was that dance they shared, or the strangeness of the elf which was an echo of her own strangeness, but Amica felt a peculiar kinship to this pale, proud being. And though there was nothing to distinguish this day from any of the other days, no alignment of stars, no rumblings of discontent to be harnessed and used, that was the Moment Amica decided to make herself known, if only to one other. She waited until he'd swallowed his bite, then reached out with a silent thought...

And Zinmo 'heard' in the stillness of his mind words that did not come him his own thoughts. Words that said, Don't let them see you react. I'm Amica. I just gave you your food. Who are you?

 

[stonegod]

And Zinmo 'heard' in the stillness of his mind words that did not come him his own thoughts. Words that said, Don't let them see you react. I'm Amica. I just gave you your food. Who are you?

Zimno frowned a moment, he didn't start, but then his face smoothed. He continued the mechanical aspects of eating soon after.

Zimno. Last of the Winterfell. And one day slayer of all of these. There was a pause. You will be spared.

 

[Shayuri]

Despite her caution to Zimno, it was Amica who nearly gasped at the mental contact. The raw rage that seethed under the surface of his mind was breathtaking. It was like watching a tornado or tidal wave from a safe distance...awing with its potential for devastation even if it posed no immediate threat. Perhaps the Moment to escape this place was nearer than she'd thought.

What do you need? she asked.

 

[stonegod]

What do you need? she asked.

The eladrin ate slowly, to give time for his "words."

Sight. A blade. A pause as he swallowed a dry bit. Others. Allies to hinder and punish these. He didn't and couldn't point, but the implication—the guards—was clear.

 

[Shayuri]

I can give you a blade, Amica noted. Your bonds and blindfold will need someone else to solve. I know what to look for now though. I do not know how long it will take.

She gave him one more spoonful before the guard grunted and pushed her away. "That's enough," he snarled.

Amica bowed her head meekly, and filled a wooden mug with water. She touched it to the elf's bottom lip as a signal it was coming, then tipped it up and over, letting him drink from it.

Be strong, she silently urged. Know that there is hope.