Dark Sun: Praetor

[Iron Sky]

21st of Sorrow
Praetorian Dormatory, Praetorium, Balic

Well, that didn't go as expected.

It's almost dawn and Eutropia is waiting in my bed, but this was too interesting a day to not write about it.

Mortuus showed up not a moment too soon. If not for him, who knows how it would have turned out.

The play was not a play, it was a Veiled Alliance attempt to sabotage the support of the people of Balic... at least I'm assuming they were Veiled Alliance - the Director and Barrenyche escaped and everyone else was just "following orders" or otherwise oblivious to what was really going on.

The actors were clearly just that if by their fighting - or should I say dying - skill alone. Their ringleaders hang from the Ampitheater as a warning, their closest accomplices fighting in the Arena at dawn, their families sold as slaves in secret aboard a Tomblador slaver just offshore in the Sea of Silt to avoid Andropins' taxes at the Slave Auction.

I'm loyal to Andropinis, but he has the wealth of a city and I have only what I can piece together here and there - in his service, of course.

A few of the new slaves were slipped off to Dephnical as a gift. Can't forget one's friends.

The audience was far trickier to deal with. They were far too many and there were far too many influential individuals amongst them to "disappear" them all. Instead, we offered them restitution for "any harm that might befall them from being subject and witness to cursed illusion magic, and any future damages that might occur due to contemplating or discussing the illusions."

The money and implied threat might have done enough to close some of their mouths about this, but it wouldn't have been enough on its own. Mortuus and some reliable fellows he rounded up slipped into the crowds that gathered outside the Ampitheater and then on to the broy houses of the city. These agents were posed as audience members that had "slipped out" in the chaos of the "play".

Their orders? Retell the contents of the illusion with the most incriminating details left out, as well distributing a myriad of subtly conflicting versions of the actual events to confuse things more.

My hope was that as we let the real audience members trickle out after collecting their restitution, those of them willing to tell their tales would find less receptive audiences as the excitement and novelty of their stories had already been deflated in a controlled manner. Hopefully they'll spend as much time accounting for the contradictions with what everyone will have already heard to tell their stories and, with luck, their own memories of the illusion might be jumbled a bit as well.

This all wrapped up an hour ago. I had the City Watch put up wanted posters for Barrenyche and the Director, offering a reward for information that leads to their capture or death. Then I headed back here.

All in all, aside from the Director and Barrenyche's escapes, triumph from disaster.

Oh, and as thanks for the decent profits they'll be able to make from reselling their new ship-hold full of slaves, Tomblador delivered a small, sturdy, engraved bone-and-wood box. Inside, a single golden pear.

If I'm not mistaken, it's an Ambrosia Pear.

Reputedly, they never wilt or rot and a single bite has incredible restorative powers. I have no idea where they came by it. An Ambrosia Pear tree is worth a small city; this Pear alone a small fortune.

I'm going to hold onto it as I have the feeling it might prove useful in the future.

The first light of dawn is creeping over the window sill and already I can hear the city stirring to its business before the worst heat of the day comes.

Eutropia is waiting, but the bed she's on is far more attractive right now than she is - and that's saying something. Best sleep now.

Who knows when the next emergency needing my attention will come?

 

[Iron Sky]

Flint Chamber Council Room, Praetorium, Balic

Darian Haraxes smiled as a relatively disheveled-looking Kar Jerrek walked into the council chambers, followed by his brother and the assassin in his employ. He had been sure to give Jerrek just enough time to have just fallen asleep - he had waited until Jerrek's slave woman left - when Haraxes sent a slave of his own to summon his fellow Praetor to council.

Haraxes glanced across the small chamber at the other Praetors and their staffs. His gaze stopped at Praetor Emantus, who nodded back at him.

Haraxes stood. "Now that everyone has arrived we can begin our discussion. First, I would like to raise the matter of the Veiled Alliance. As I'm sure you all know, these unsanctioned arcane terrorists have become more and more brazen in the last few months. There was that incident in the market a month ago that had us hanging a dozen people a day for weeks. Then, recently, I uncovered a plot to use a play as a ruse to subvert our loyal subjects."

He smiled, watching out of the corner of his eye as Kar sat bolt upright, the anger flaring in the young Praetor's eyes betraying his carefully controlled expression of easy attentiveness.

"Thanks to my efforts to contain it, the subversives were eliminated, though unfortunately Praetors Jerrek and Sandstone allowed their leaders to escape. Of course, Sandstone is mostly focused on his efforts to keep the inhuman inhabitants of the city in-check and Jerrek is so very new, you can almost forgive their inability to apprehend the fugitive pair of actors I sent them capture."

Sandstone continued picking his teeth as though he hadn't been listening while Jerrek's eyes burned with hate even as that faint smile returned to Jerrek's face.

Jerrek stood and bowed to the chamber. "I'm just grateful that I, in my very first weeks as Praetor, was able to be of benefit in any small way."

Haraxes smiled at him patronizingly and nodded, then continued as Jerrek took his seat again. "It is my recommendation to this council that the leader of this Veiled Alliance Troupe should be the primary focus of our efforts to contain the Veiled Alliance in the upcoming weeks as she has some minor illusion magics at her command and seems to have been the primary brains behind their cell." He nodded to Ementius.

As he sat, he stole a quick glance over at Jerrek. The Praetor's eyes were cold, distant, calculating. Ementius took the floor and talked for a while about the Reese-Arvos financial dispute that had been going on for two weeks now and was on the verge of escalating out of control. Haraxes was just glad he had already made an excuse for himself of the Veiled Alliance troubles and wouldn't have to deal with that particular mess.

Ementius and a couple of the other Praetors began to debate the issue while Jerrek quietly excused himself and slipped away. The young Praetor's brother didn't even attempt to follow custom or etiquette, following his brother out the door without even a glance at the other assembled Praetors.

That should put them in their place for a while, Haraxes thought as he watched them depart. I still don't know how that Mul was ever allowed to be a Praetor, even a third-rate Praetor. And Jerrek is far too ambitious and a tad too capable - especially with his brother at his side and Dephincal at his back. Sandstone might not be a savvy political animal, but he does have that unambitious competency that could be put to supporting Jerrek's inevitable schemes. I'll have to be careful with them - they might be weak enough yet to be controllable and exploitable, but if they get too popular, too dug in, achieve too much too soon... well, there's time yet to figure out what to do with them.

Thoughts of Jerrek and Sandstone faded, replaced by troubled thoughts of that absurdly powerful Veiled Alliance witch, Barrenyche, that Jerrek and Sandstone had stirred up. Who knew what she was going to try next?

 

[Iron Sky]

22nd of Sorrow
Crystal Gardens Forum, The Market Precinct, Balic

And that's how you turn the dirty work that no one else wants to do into profit.

I was awakened late this afternoon by Praetor Ementius and his bodyguards letting themselves into my room. Ementius isn't the sort to play with formalities, so he just ordered me to handle the Reese/Arvos issue. Officially, he can't give me orders, but we're both pragmatic enough to know that's what they were.

The issue, in short, had to do with number of patrician families' long standing debts to Merchant House Reese, the primary moneylenders in Balic. House Arvos, owners of several of the best and largest gladitorial ludi in Balic, led the conglomeration of patricians disputing Reese demands that those families pay their ancestral debts.

A quick visit to Dephnical's estate for advice after meeting up with Mortuus and Darus led to a chance meeting with Rava, still appropriately attired in grieving colors after the loss of her husband. Unfortunately, my mind was elsewhere and my tongue was more like lead than silver. I forced myself to shut my mouth and politely excuse myself before I made a total fool of myself.

Dephnical had some useful advice. Nothing to do with which side had the more just claim, of course, but mostly as to which side would make the more powerful ally or enemy. His thoughts mostly aligned with mine - Reeve is a rich and powerful merchant house despite its relatively small size while Arvos represents a group of heavily indebted patricians.

He also thanked me for the Sand Deva slaves and mentioned that his daughter's mourning period would soon be over. There was little doubt in his mind that a "proper suitor" would be around when the time was right.

From there, Darus, Mortuus, and I went to the Reese compound to "listen impartially to all sides, searching for any extenuating circumstances that might influence the investigation, and to ensure the ruling is the most beneficial for all that are involved."

I left Mortuus behind to see if they got the message.

Similar at Lord Arvos estate and his gathering of lesser nobles - but with two hours of listening them go on and on about "false claims" "perjury" "Reese lies" "false ledgers" and every other complaint you could think of.

I used Mortuus' arrival as an excuse to slip away to a remote, overgrown, and unattended section of Arvos' garden - just in case Arvos had someone trying to spy on us. There Mortuus handed me the small purse a Reese valet had conveniently dropped and forgotten to pick up when Mortuus was leaving the Reese compound. He also informed me that he "accidentally overheard" some Reese agents discussing the "Jarko and Tomblador loans for Tyr."

Half-an-hour later we were at the Tomblador Compound talking with Kalius. The old adage "important business happens at its own hour" placated him somewhat - it was sometime past midnight at the time - and mentioning merchant houses Tomblador, Jarko, and Reese in the same sentence got us a meeting in a room at the top of a small minaret barely big enough for the three of us.

The problem: on the ledger, Reese had enough to loan Tomblador and Jarko a massive sum for a joint venture. In reality, much of that money was tied up in decades-old debts across the whole of Balic. While Reese was able to collect most of them, they didn't have enough clout to get Arvos and those smaller houses that hid under his wings to pay up. Enter the Praetors.

The solution: a tiny fraction of the profits might find themselves in a certain Praetor's pockets should the ruling be found in Reese' favor. The decision was simple. I now own a small but significant part of a massive venture to deliver hundreds of slaves to an unknown agent in Tyr. The fact that after Kalak's death slavery is illegal in Tyr doesn't seem to have deterred whoever this mystery buyer is - in fact, he's paying far, far above market rates.

After the usual mutual promises of secrecy and profession of aligned interests, we headed back so I could make the ruling. As a bonus, I found the Crystal Garden Forum's owner willing to pay me a small "agency fee" for having the Judgement held in his establishment that he might profit on a small host of merchant and patrician semi-notables enjoying his food, drink, and hospitality leading up to and during the proceedings.

Once everyone was convened, I went off by myself to "consider the evidence." What I really did was dice a few rounds over broy with Darus, enjoy one of the Crystal Garden's female slaves, and take a short nap.

My following speech was laced with "fairness", "justice", "difficulty", "heavy responsibilities", "hard decisions", and "extensive research" - essentially softening the blow for what I'd mostly decided before I'd even left Dephnical's estate. I finished with "any dissent will be taken as questioning the Will of Andropinis and his representatives that you yourselves called here to mediate after failing to reach accommodations on your own."

Then I left Darus to handle any further discussion. Have I ever mentioned that Darus hates politics, small talk, complaints, and being social in general? As such, he's a perfect choice for wrapping things up.

Speaking of, he just walked in.

This business is over, but again I find myself still awake an hour before dawn. Maybe when I get back to the Praetorium I can get some rest and get back to some sort of normal schedule. I've got more work to do.

 

[Iron Sky]

Big Tarrok's Broy House, Harbor Precinct, Balic

Sarin set down his last cracked cup of broy and stared at the bottom of it balefully, feeling the empty purse at his side. His knee still hurt from where that oaf Kroth had dropped a crate full of wooden peg-nails as they carried across the Saurium's gangplank yesterday and they still had half a hold to empty today. The first bottle of broy had taken the edge off, but it still hurt like a-

The canvas flap across the door swung open and everyone grumbled and cursed as a hot morning wind full of silt swirled in, causing the torches to gutter. Whoever it was wasn't closing the flap either, causing a few rowdies to stand up, ready to teach whoever it was some manners.

When everyone's eyes adjusted to the bright early-morning light haloing the three figures standing in the door, the grumbles stopped and the rowdies quickly sat back down.

"On orders of Praetors Kar Jerrek and Darus Sandstone no one leaves. Anyone interfering will be assumed as accomplices while anyone aiding in the investigation will be rewarded."

The black-haired Praetor in heavy chitin armor held up what looked like a wanted poster showing a foppish looking man... a man that looked very familiar.

"I seen him, in the back, just leaving," Sarin said, standing up from his table. He got some dark looks from some of the other Dockers nearby, but he didn't care. He'd heard some of the Praetors rewarded informants handsomely and a full purse might buy him a few days time to nurse his knee back and enough drinks to keep the pain at bay until it was better.

The three figures - a human, a mul, and a figure in a cloak - walked through the crowded broy house, a path miraculously clearing before them. Sarin spotted the Legionnaires standing at ready outside the door behind them - as did everyone else in Big Tarrock's judging by the dark looks in that direction.

"Everyone just sit and enjoy your drinks. Don't get involved. Anyone leaving will be charged with interfering with a Praetorian investigation. Stay put and this will be over quickly."

The young Praetor turned towards Sarin, a faint smile coming to his face while the Mul just stared at Sarin indifferently.

"Praetor Jerrek," the human Praetor said, shaking Sarin's hand. "You say you've seen this man?"

Sarin looked down at the proffered poster and nodded. "Yah, he's right this way, follow me."

Sarin limped towards the back room and stopped at the door. He turned and extended his hand towards the Praetors.

The mul - presumably Praetor Sandstone - snorted and Jerrek shook his head. "We'll pay you if your information helps us."

It was Sarin's turn to snort. "I've heard that'n before."

The smile faded from Jerrek's lips. "You have the word of Praetor Kar Jerrek."

He shouldn't have been, but for some reason Sarin was reassured by that, nodding as he stepped out of the way.

The Praetors and the cloaked man stepped through the door. Curious, Sarin waited a moment, then snuck in behind, finding a hiding place amongst the shelves of the large storage room to see what would transpire.

Amidst the shelves, half-a-dozen burly Dockers stood beside the largest, a man that probably had a bit of giant blood in him. Sarin hadn't seen them around Big Tarrock's before - they'd come in with the man the Praetors wanted.

"We're heading a Praetorian investigation," Jerrek said. "Anything you could-"

"Your kind isn't wanted around here. Go back to hide underneath Andropinis' skirts." The Dockers laughed at the big one's words, sneering at the Praetors.

From his perspective, Sarin saw Sandstone start to reach for one of the big axes strapped on his back and Jerrek motion him to stop. "No need to be hostile, if you'd just be willing to cooperate-"

"If you hadn't noticed, we're not cooperating. Up in the Praetorium, you're all big, but down here your the same as everyone else."

"With Andropinis' blessing, the Praetors work to keep the city safe. His rule is the only reason-"

"The city is ruled by the people, Praetor," the big one said, shouting the Praetor down and pointing an accusing finger. "You aren't wanted, or needed-"

It was the young Praetor's time to cut the big man off. "Regardless of what you want or need, this is a Praetorian investigation. Anyone resisting is an enemy of the-"

A crude wooden spear flying past Jerrek's head put an end to the discussion.

The fight didn't last more than fifteen seconds. The big one's thugs rushed the Praetors while the big one rushed the cloaked man. The Praetor's weapons flared with light and flame and twisting shadows and they cut down the Dockers bearing their crude cudgels with practiced efficiency.

After slipping back behind the Praetors, the Praetor's man produced what looked like a long flute from which he fired a dart into the big one's neck. Sarin scoffed at the puny weapon until the big man's face blackened and he toppled over. The last Docker went pale, dropped his club, and raised his hands.

Sandstone grabbed him by the collar and slammed him into a shelf, rattling the ceramic cups and bowls.

"Darus, wait!" Jerrek said, stepping in and putting a restraining hand on the mul's arm. "We need information."

He turned to the Docker, his expression grim. "I promise that if you tell us all you know, you will not suffer the tortures of the Praetorian dungeons."

"Yes, everything!" the last surviving Docker said, dropping to his knees. "I'll tell you everything I know!"

Jerrek nodded and waited for the man to compose himself.

"The Director, the one with all those wanted posters all over, he was just here with the other one, the witch!" At the mention of a witch, Sarin made a sign to ward off the evil eye, wondering if he'd overheard too much. "They headed to a ship called... uh... uhm... called the... the Shrike!"

Sarin didn't wait to hear more, quickly sneaking back into the common room.

No sooner had he made it through the door than did the Praetors push their way through, the mul dragging the stumbling Docker along by his collar. The cloaked figure trailing behind them paused and glanced at Sarin, making a come along gesture with his finger.

With a gulp, Sarin followed, stepping outside just in time for the Jerrek to order a Legionnaire off to the harbor with orders to "shut down the port for an hour and the ship named Shrike to be stopped by any means to apprehend the Veiled Alliance terrorists aboard."

The Praetors started to head off towards the harbor himself, but as the Legionnaires seized the Docker, the man cried out, "your word Praetor, you gave me your word!"

Jerrek stopped and turned, nodding solemnly as he walked back. "Indeed, I did. Forgive me; in my haste I almost broke my word. You shall not suffer."

The Docker sobbed in relief until Jerrek drew his sword and drove it into the man's heart. Behind him Sandstone nodded.

Jerrek's voice was soft as the Docker crumpled to the sand. "Sorry, my friend, but assault on a Praetor cannot be tolerated."

Sarin tried to shrink into the wall, not even caring about his reward anymore, wanting to be anywhere else.

He sighed in relief as the Praetors turned and jogged off towards the harbor, but as he turned to go back into Big Tarrok's the cloaked figure was there blocking his way, the man's hood pulled back to reveal a hard expression and flat, cold eyes above a black beard.

The man reached into his cloak, sending Sarin backing away with his hands raised. Before Sarin could escape, the man seized Sarin's wrist and pressed a small leather coin pouch into his hand.

"The Praetor keeps his word," the man said softy before turning away and pulling up his hood, leaving Sarin staring at his back and shaking until the man disappeared into the busy, dusty streets of Balic.

 

[Azkorra]

Since no one else has commented on this thread so far, let me be the first to say that this is a great story with complex and scheming characters galore. I am really enjoying it and looking forward to the next chapter.

 

[Sanzuo]

Since no one else has commented on this thread so far, let me be the first to say that this is a great story with complex and scheming characters galore. I am really enjoying it and looking forward to the next chapter.

Me too!

 

[Iron Sky]

Since no one else has commented on this thread so far, let me be the first to say that this is a great story with complex and scheming characters galore. I am really enjoying it and looking forward to the next chapter.

Thanks Azkorra, glad to hear you're enjoying it. There's plenty of material to go; this is about 3/4 of the way through Session 4 and last weekend we played Session 9.

 

[Iron Sky]

Praetorian Morgue, Praetorium, Balic

"So when you got to the harbor, the Shrike was already gone I assume?" Ementius said, looking up from over the husk of a corpse that he'd been examining while Jerrek talked.

The young Praetor nodded. "There were half-a-dozen sailors lying with this one on the dock where the Shrike had been moored. We were no more than a few minutes too late... which I'm not sure was a good or bad thing."

Kar looked pointedly at the dessicated body lying on the stone slab before Ementius.

"And then they sent the warship Cataclysm after the Shrike." Ementius said, more a statement than a question. He'd already heard it from agents in the Arsenal, but he wanted to hear Jerrek's version.

"Yes. I was with Centurion Haravan when he gave the order for the Cataclysm to close on the Shrike. I had a bad feeling about it and said they should just destroy it, but unfortunately he knew about my Legion background and I'm sure you know about the doctrinal differences between the Legion and the Arsenal Legionnaires. In his words 'it's a warship against a sand skiff'."

"I'm assuming that was right before the Cataclysm went down with all hands?"

Jerrek nodded, motioning to the corpse. "Have you ever seen something like this? My first thought was defiling, but I've never seen arcanistry do this."

Ementius shook his head, walking around the table and bending down to get a different angle on the body. "No, this is no mortal magic."

Jerrek's eyebrow quirked at that.

Ementius continued. "This is fey magic, drained their living essence entirely from their bodies."

A troubled look came over Jerrek and the Praetor's eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the body. Finally, he shook his head. "I won't pretend I know what they fey are. I've heard the term before but I'm not familiar with its origins."

"Perhaps that is good since you are so recently Praetor," Ementius said, half-wondering if Jerrek know more than he had said and his delay was to affirm what Ementius was about to say. "It would be slightly suspect if even a patrician knew of the worlds that parallel our own."

Jerrek said nothing, just leaned against a vacant slab and motioned for Ementius to elaborate. He did, pulling out a stylus, diagramming and notating the features of the body for his studies.

"The ancestors of the elves came from a different world. Little enough is known about it except that it is more arcane and mysterious with many secrets. It is nearly impossible to get to and too dangerous to explore easily if you even can. It is also dying and the fey blame us 'mortals' and hate us for it. They are capricious, powerful, unpredictable and masters of their breed of magic. We have an idea of what Barrenyche is now, but that does us little good."

He glanced up to see if Jerrek was following. The Praetor's gaze was distant, but a moment later the Praetor turned and nodded, pushing himself up off the slab. "Then it is out of our hands. All we can do is notify the Port Authority and the Arsenal that the Shrike is to be destroyed on sight... and the Legions and Praetors the same of Barrenyche."

Ementius nodded.

"Then I leave you to your studies," Jerrek said, half-bowing before heading out the door.

Ementius continued to draw without looking up, wondering if he'd have a few more life-drained corpses lying before him if the Shrike had still been there when Jerrek had arrived... He was somewhat glad it hadn't worked out that way. He might be young and ambitious, but Jerrek at least seemed to take his duties seriously and wasted no time or effort in bringing them to resolution.

If only those qualities didn't always seem to go hand-in-hand... he thought, setting down his stylus and rubbing his forehead. Too many capable Praetors end up lying in a ditch with a knife in their back, betrayed by their own ambitions and the entrenched Praetors concerned only for their own power and position and not for the good of Balic...

 

[Iron Sky]

Mount Laeron, Balic

Harding took a deep drought and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. Sarik rolled his crude bone dice in the dirt and cursed as Harding swept up Sarik's copper chits from the dust. The half-giant dug around in his purse and dropped another few chits between himself and Harding. "You winnit again an' Sarik thinks he's gonna make some new bone dice."

Harding grinned back, wiggling his fingers at the half-giant. "Keep rollin' like yer rollin' and I'll own your spear and knife an' you'll have nothin' left to take 'em with."

It was Sarik's turn to flash a cruel grin. "I don' need a knife to take your fingers, runt."

A comeback stalled on Harding's lips as he noticed the cloaked figures hiking their way up the dusty path towards the dusty, windy peak behind the post where Sarik and Harding sat.

"Look at that," Harding said with a gesture. The half-giant glanced up too, frowning.

They stood, passing the broy bottle back and forth one more time before the three figures reached them.

"Halt, Mount Laeron is forbidden," Harding said, posing with his feet wide, his spear planted against the side of his boot, his palm out to the figures. It was his favorite part of being a Legionnaire - he might have the worst post in the Legions, but he could still look like one on the rare occasion that someone tried to get up to the ruins.

"Ah, it is?" one of the strangely bulky cowled figures said. "We are foreigners here and really wanted to visit the famous mountain. Is there no way you could be persuaded otherwise?"

Harding stared stupidly for a moment, then glanced at Sarik. A slow grin was spreading on the half-giant's face but for some reason it repulsed Harding. He turned and stood up straight. I may be a screw-up and have the worst post in the city, but I'm still a Legionnaire, dammit!

"Bribing a Praetor is punishable by death!" he said, feeling a strange straightening in his backbone that he'd never felt before.

To his surprise, he saw a smile twitch at the cowled figure's mouth before the man pulled his hood back. He was a young man with black hair and Harding gripped his spear tighter as he saw a bit of thick carapace breastplate rising out of the neck of his cowl.

The man must have seen Harding's reaction, his hands coming up. "Peace, Legionnaire, let us make a deal - if you don't report my misconduct, I won't report yours."

Harding stared as he heard Sarik snort behind him. "Who this one think he is?"

Sarik stepped up beside Harding, hefting the huge spear he carried.

Still smiling, the young man pulled off his cloak, the huge man beside him doing the same to reveal a mul in heavy armor and the robe of a...

Praetor, Harding's stunned mind churned trying to keep up with what was going on. Sarik deflated beside him, seeming to shrink as the Praetors stood before them.

"As I said before, we won't report what went on here if you don't," the human Praetor said. "All we want to know is if anyone came through here before us."

Harding stammered and glanced back at the broy bottle sitting beside his dice. When he turned back, he pointed back towards the city. "There was a half-giant that came up here before. He was dressed in heavy armor, had two giant spiked shells stuck to his arms, and kept saying he knew how to get into the tombs. I told him to get lost."

The Praetor turned nodded back at the third man. The still-cowled figure nodded back and headed back down the mountain in the direction Harding had indicated.

"You're sure there's no one else who came through or tried to come through here in the last few days?" the young Praetor said as he turned back. He pause for a moment. "No? Very well, let our companion and that half-giant follow us if they arrive."

He and the mul pushed between Harding and Sarik, making their way up the mountain. Harding was just taking his first breath of relief when the Praetor turned. "I may forgive and forget this time, but if I come back and find you still drinking and gambling on duty, I won't bother with Legion corporal punishment."

With that he turned and walked away, leaving Harding and Sarik staring at their backs until they disappeared into the early-morning sandstorm blowing in off the Estuary of Silt.

 

[Iron Sky]

24th of Sorrow
Forbidden Tomb, Mt. Laeron, Balic

Haven't written in a while as it was a busy couple days. We're resting before pressing on further into the tombs - these things are literally crawling with kruthik of all types and we're a bit battered and cautious about heading on.

A short summary of the last couple days. On a tip from Eutropia - of all people - we followed Barrenyche's trail to the harbor. We lost the warship Cataclysm thanks to the Arsenal's incompetence. If I was Dictator, two hundred sailors and Legionnaires would still be alive right now and Barrenyche dead. Whatever fey terror she is.

Yesterday we talked with Dephnical as he'd had time to do some research on the copper enigma we gave to Tomblador. He believes its a fragment of an ancient artifact of incredible power and has reason to believe that there might be more of them in this tomb.

With the help of a half-giant - I think the other half is mad - that somehow knew the way to the tomb we were looking for, we managed to find it amidst the dusty, rocky crags of Mt. Laeron. Disturbingly, we found other tracks on the mountainside, mere days old. No wonder that guard was so touchy about bribery... though to his dubious credit they might have let someone sneak by through sheer incompetence.

Whoever they were seemed to have found this tomb before us as we found a dismembered arm that was fairly fresh and a... frozen... body serving as feed for swarms of kruthik. The half-giant, whom we have taken to calling Shield since he wears heavy armor spiked and a pair of massive spine-covered shields, suggested we thaw it out and eat it. I'm still not sure if he was serious or not as he then became "invisible", meaning he said some gibberish in Giant and then pretended like we couldn't see him.

Several of the tombs had a wall with the engraved visage of Andropinis, his open mouth just big enough for a man to reach his arm inside.

The half-giant, broke one of his vambraces when he stuck his arm into the mouth - not once, but twice -, but he did extract a copper fragment from one of them after we were able to pry his arm free. Elsewhere we found a few ancient half-blunted copper picks that we used to painstakingly clear a few cave-ins and in this room found another pair of frozen bodies that looked like they'd been chewed on by something large before the kruthik swarms got to them.

I'm not looking forward to meeting whatever it was, but it looks like the others are ready, so we're about to go find out. It might just be me, but I think I've been hearing a faint sound from the dark passageway ahead that we're about to enter.

It sounded disturbingly like... crunching bones...