[DS] Sand & Ashes Episodes 1-26

Post/Author/DateTimePost
#1

Band2

May 27, 2008 11:47:59		All episodes of Sand & Ashes are now posted, as well as a timeline and character listing.






Apparently the story is not as PG as I thought. I noticed one word replaced with ***** in the first episode by the server, and have replaced it with a word more exceptable to the server. If anyone see any that I miss any in later episodes let me know and I will try and fix it.
#2

Band2

May 27, 2008 11:48:15 		Sand & Ashes Timeline.


Desert's Fury <br /> 190 King's Age <br /> Free Year 11 <br /> <br /> Dominary 19 Itzcoalta defeats a band of undead dwarves at<br /> had been terrorizing an Eldarrichian village. The <br /> same day the Tsalaxan caravan continues on its <br /> journey towards Draj.<br /> Dominary 20 Wir-obech tries to defend his hanging forest from<br /> a band of reggelids. He defeats a number of them, <br /> but one of them manages to teleport Wir-obech far <br /> from his home.<br /> <br /> Dominary 21 <br /> Dominary 22 Chika-Ra-L'tz meets Xern and agrees to join an<br /> army to overthrow the sorcerer-king of Draj.<br /> Dominary 23 <br /> Dominary 24 <br /> Dominary 25 Alrin-Ga kills his superior, the templar Mugashi, in<br /> Raam.<br /> <br /> Dominary 26 Alrin-Ga is captured and sold into slaver. <br /> <br /> Dominary 27 The slavers' caravan leaves Raam for Draj, with <br /> Alrin-Ga.<br /> <br /> Dominary 28 Wir-obech is captured by Bintulu, a defiler, and<br /> his men. Bintulu is part of an army being formed <br /> by Farlcunn to overthrow the sorcerer-king of <br /> Draj.<br /> Dominary 29 <br /> Dominary 30 The Stone Skull gith tribe raid a small village near<br /> Draj.<br /> <br /> Sedulous 1 While leading a patrol, Anticus and his men are <br /> ambushed by the Stone Skull gith. All but Anticus <br /> are killed. The rest of the army is also ambushed <br /> by the gith and suffers large casualties. When <br /> Anticus reports back to the army, he is blamed for <br /> the failure. He is arrested and sentenced to the <br /> gladiator slave pits.<br /> <br /> Sedulous 2 Farlcunn learns that Tectutiklay is no longer king <br /> of Draj. He orders the immediate mobilization of his <br /> army to attack the city and wrestle it from the new <br /> king. In Draj, Ramsus is taken from his master and <br /> put in the city's gladiator slave pits.<br /> <br /> Sedulous 3 Ral meed is captured while leading a raid on a <br /> Tsalaxan caravan. During the raid, a close tribe <br /> member, Zal assta, is killed by a defiler.<br /> <br /> Sedulous 4 Ramsus is victorious in his first battle in the arena<br /> since being placed in the city's slave pen.<br /> Sedulous 5 <br /> Sedulous 6 <br /> Sedulous 7 <br /> Sedulous 8 Ramsus and Anticus are victorious in a three round <br /> battle in the arena. Ral meed refuses to fight in the <br /> arena and runs away from his opponent. After the <br /> battle, Ral meed starts a fight with two other <br /> gladiators Cholu and Zoc. Anticus helps end the fight.<br /> <br /> Sedulous 9 Cholu and Zoc try to get revenge on Ral meed by <br /> sneaking into his cell in the night to kill him. <br /> Anticus notices them and warns the elf. <br /> Sedulous 10 <br /> Sedulous 11 The Grand Melee, in which Alrin-Ga meets the other <br /> three characters. After emerging victorious, Ramsus <br /> has a private meeting with the templar Nian Sinchi. <br /> She orders the team to kill a rival templar, Atemoztli.<br /> Sedulous 12 <br /> Sedulous 13 <br /> Sedulous 14 The characters kill the templar Atemoztli and his two <br /> half-giant bodyguards. During the attack Anticus <br /> witnesses Ral meed cast an arcane spell for the first <br /> time.<br /> <br /> Sedulous 15 The group rests after the killing. Anticus discusses <br /> preserver magic with Ral meed and agrees not to tell <br /> the others for now. Nian Sinchi extends some <br /> protection over the group.<br /> <br /> Sedulous 16 Anticus names the four templars he has sworn to kill. <br /> Alrin-Ga tries to convince him to give up his <br /> vengeance but does not succeed.<br /> <br /> Sedulous 17 Anticus and Ral meed discuss preserver magic again.<br /> <br /> Sedulous 18 The games are unexpectedly canceled due to talk <br /> of war.<br /> Sedulous 19 <br /> Sedulous 20 The war begins when Farlcunn's horde attacks an <br /> outlying village. Wir-obech and Chika-Ra-L'tz observe <br /> the brutality of the attack from a nearby hill.<br /> Sedulous 21 <br /> Sedulous 22 The army of Farlcunn has its first battle with a smaller <br /> Draji army. The Draji are outnumbered and overwhelmed.<br /> Sedulous 23 <br /> Sedulous 24 <br /> Sedulous 25 <br /> Sedulous 26 The full army of Draj meets the invaders on the fields <br /> within sight of the city. The Draji army never adapted its <br /> tactics to adjust for the templars lost of spell casting <br /> ability. They are routed and the survivors flee back to <br /> the city. The city's leaders desperate, arm the slaves <br /> and rush them into battle on the outskirts of the city. <br /> The large numbers of the slaves fight off the leading <br /> edge of the invaders. During the night, both sides bring <br /> up reinforcements and prepare for battle the next day.<br /> <br /> Sedulous 27 In the morning the battle resumes.
#3

Band2

May 27, 2008 11:48:32 		Sand & Ashes Character Listing.

Dead or Alive Name Description<br /> <br /> D [b]Atemoztli[/b] A rival templar of Nian and mentor to Kulhuatepec.<br /> [b]Bintulu[/b] A defiler of Farlcunn's army who captured Wir-obech.<br /> [b]Cajamarca[/b] A templar sub-commander under Kulhuatepec. Anticus has swore to kill him.<br /> D [b]Cholu[/b] A male human gladiator that Ral meed started a fight with.<br /> [b]Colhua[/b] A trusted subordinate of Lord Farlcunn who was with the gith tribe who attacked Anticus's men.<br /> [b]Kulhuatepec [/b] A Draji templar in the army who was Anticus's commander. Anticus has swore to kill him.<br /> [b]Kurzak[/b] The guard captain of the slave pits.<br /> [b]Laxu[/b] A Tsalaxan caravan driver.<br /> [b]Lloque[/b] A servant of Nian Sinchi<br /> [b]Lord Farlcunn[/b] A warlord who has his sights set on conquering Draj.<br /> D [b]Mugashi[/b] Raam templar, former master of Alrin-Ga.<br /> [b]Nian Sinchi[/b] A female templar of Draj.<br /> [b]Nkobi[/b] Masseuse slave from Gulg, owned by Nian Sinchi.<br /> D [b]Oxag[/b] A half-giant bodyguard of Atemoztli<br /> [b]Stone Skull gith raiding tribe[/b] The gith tribe that ambushed Anticus and his men.<br /> D [b]Tax[/b] A gladiator in the Draj arena. He was killed and partially eaten by halflings in front of Ramsus.<br /> [b]Ticlo[/b] A Draji boy who escaped the first massacre of the war.<br /> [b]Tizapan[/b] A templar sub-commander under Kulhuatepec. Anticus has swore to kill him.<br /> [b]Tlaxcala [/b] Sub-master of the Games in Draj.<br /> D, D [b]Toxco, Mancon[/b] Draj warriors who were subordinate to Anticus.<br /> [b]Tutul Xiu[/b] Another templar Anticus has swore to kill.<br /> [b]Unnamed defiler working for the Tsalaxa merchant house. [/b] Killed Zal assta during the caravan raid in which Ral meed was captured.<br /> ? [b]Unnamed human woman gladiator[/b] She fought with Ramsus in his first battle and was mauled by a lirr.<br /> [b]Unnamed reggiled [/b] Teleported Wir-obech from the Jagged Cliffs to the Tablelands.<br /> [b]Xern[/b] A human recruiter for Farlcunn's army.<br /> [b]Xocoyotin[/b] Self-proclaimed King of the gladiator pits.<br /> [b]Yahuar[/b] A trustee in the slave pens.<br /> D [b]Zal assta[/b] An elf from Ral meed's tribe.<br /> D [b]Zoc[/b] A mul gladiator. He was a companion of Cholu.
#4

Band2

May 27, 2008 11:49:11 		Episode 1 – That’s Gratitude for You

Locale: A small village on the caravan road near Eldaarich
Date: Dominary 19, Desert’s Fury, 190th King’s Age (Free Year 11)


“Excuse me, sir, but we won't be moving on today. We will have to spend the night here.”

Itzcoalta looked up from the parchment he was studying.

“What? Why is that? It is only mid afternoon. There is plenty of good traveling time left in the day,” he said as he twisted on his stool to stare at the rugged caravan master, who stood just inside of the mekillot hide flap that covered the door way.

“Well sir, I am sorry for the inconvenience, sir. But it’s the village headman, sir. He is very insistent that we stay. Insists that the nights around here are not safe,” replied Laxu, the Tsalaxan caravan driver.

“Why does he say the nights are not safe?” Itzcoalta asked, anxiety in his voice lessening slightly.

“Dwarven spirits, sir. The headman says that two months ago, these dwarven spirits appeared in the area. At night, they attack anyone outside of the village, up to 10 miles away. He says if we left now we will still be in the area when the sun goes down. If we wait and leave tomorrow morning we will have plenty of day light to travel out of their area.”

When Laxu finished his explanation, Itzcoalta turned an accusing eye on him. “I see. And why did you come to me with this information? Are you always so informative with your passengers?”

“Just informing you. That is all, sir,” replied Laxu.

“I do not believe you. Tell me,” ordered Itzcoalta.

Laxu shifted his weight slightly from one foot to the other. “Well sir, the thing is. I figured you would want to know. That's all. I don't know your business, so I don't know what sort of delays you will tolerate. Besides I thought you may be able to do something about the problem,” responded Laxu as he lowered his gaze, so as not to meet the other man's eyes.

“What do you think I can do that your guards cannot?” asked Itzcoalta.

“Its just that I think you are a little more than you seem. I was thinking you are a templar, sir.”

“Really, and why do you think so?” Itzcoalta's voice contained more curiosity than the anger that Laxu expected. Embolden he continued.

“It’s that sword of yours, sir,” Laxu pointed to the weapon that lay on a table with the rest of Itzcoalta's gear a few feet away. The three foot blade was made of obsidian.

“That is a mighty fine sword. The obsidian looks almost flawless. Don't know that I have seen many weapons that well made.”

“So, I have a nice sword, and that is why you think I am a templar?” Itzcoalta said with a small laugh.

“Like I said, it is a fine sword. And most warriors, when they heard me rush in here with urgent news would have grabbed their weapons immediately in case it meant trouble. But not you. Didn’t even make a move towards it. If there was trouble you intended to use something else. Maybe something more powerful than that nice sword of yours.”

Holding up his right hand Itzcoalta said, “Enough. Enough. Let's just say for the sake of argument that you are correct. I'll meet with this headman and see what he has to say. Can you arrange a meeting?”

“Yes sir,” and with that Laxu turned and went out through the hide covered doorway.

‘Damn, you are going to have to be more careful. Your disguise may look perfect but you are going to have to act the part if you want it to work,’ Itzcoalta thought to himself.

“I wonder what he would think if he knew the full truth,” Itzcoalta wondered in a whisper.

Indeed, Itzcoalta was a templar from the city where he had joined up with the Tsalaxan caravan, but he had only recently completed his initiation into the templar order. Before that he had been something else…

****

‘Who is this dung-filled fool?’ thought the headman as he noticed that muck-stenched money-grubbing merchant, Laxu leading another man towards him.

Itzcoalta was wearing his wide-brimmed straw hat to shade his eyes from the sun’s bright rays and a scarf pulled up over his noise and mouth as a protection against the silt that blew in from the Silt Sea a short distance away. His tailor-fitted bright red shirt was only a dusty orange from the silt clinging to it, while his loose fitting, multi-colored pants blew in the stiff breeze. He stood 5 feet 8 inches tall, and had the look of a man who recently got in shape.

“This is Itzcoalta,” Laxu said as they reached the headman. “He wishes to hear more about your problem.”

“Problem? What problem? There is no problem. It’s been solved. No one goes outside the village after nightfall, and no one dies. See. No problem.”

Itzcoalta had a little trouble understanding the man's Eldaarish dialect. So he turned to Laxu. “Tell him that I want to know more about the dwarven spirits. When they first appeared? How many have been seen?”

“The short spirits, aye. Fifty-one days ago was the first we heard of them. One of our herders was attacked when he was late bringing his animals back to the corral.” ‘Piss on that fool. By the next morning half the herd had wandered off and was lost. Two aprigs were worth more than his mite-infested hide.’

“Since then, we learned that if everyone is inside by dusk, the short spirits do not bother us. But plenty of our village has seen them.” The headman spoke in a short choppy manner and threw Itzcoalta a few looks of contempt for interrupting his work in the fields for this.

‘Who does this kank-faced, money-slave think he is? He is nothing but another greedy merchant outsider. The rudeness of him to interrupt my work. And why does old high and mighty Laxu defer to him so much. It’s not like that old bastard to be so subservient. As many times as he has come through here with his caravans, the only times I have seen him act as such is when he is dealing with Daskinor's templ…’ The headman’s eyes suddenly widen in panic. Dropping to his knees head bowed to the dirt at Itzcoalta’s feet he groveled, “Sorry. Sorry, Lord. Forgive this unimportant person. I am not worth, but please pardon my rudeness!”

“Stop it! Get up!” Itzcoalta ordered. His voice was hard with anger that someone else had apparently seen through his disguise and disgust that a city would foster a culture that required such demeaning behavior from any of its citizens, slaves or freemen.

“I said stop it! Now get up and tell me what I want to know! Why did you not send word to the templars? Surely they could have handled this.”

The headman stopped groveling and looked up at Itzcoalta. He remained on his knees as he began to explain.

Laxu translated, “He could not notify the templars. He is responsible for this village, sir. The templars expect him to solve any problems that come up. If they get word that he cannot perform this duty they just kill him and appoint another headman. He was too frightened. He came up with this solution and so the entire village has adopted it. He did not have much else to choose from. He says that some from the village have seen where the dwarven spirits rest during the day. It is a rocky mound a couple of hours west of here.”

As the headman's words finally trailed off, Itzcoalta, watching the man with pity, spoke up, “I will free your people from this evil so that it will no longer trouble your village. You have nothing more to fear. All I need is a guide to take me to this resting place of the spirits and I will destroy them.”

‘Evil? Why does this disguised templar-lord speak of evil? The spirits are just another problem in this miserable life. One to solve or not to solve. How are they evil?’ Confused though he was by Itzcoalta's words, his initial fear had begun to leave him.

‘In any case, this is a templar in disguise. From either the northern city or the one from the south. It does not matter which, it is forbidden for either templars to be on Eldaarish land. No matter that this village is on the edge of the land or not. I will have to report this. Now who can I send…?’

****

Less than an hour later, Itzcoalta set out with the village guide riding his crodlu. No longer dressed in his traveling attire, Itzcoalta wore armor made from thick mekillot hide. His hat was replaced by a helmet of the same thick hide, which fit snuggly on his head, but made him appear almost half a foot taller. His obsidian sword was now strapped across his back along with a shield made of bone and leather.

He had gotten ready in his tent, where outside eyes could not notice the bright flash of light or the thin layer of chalk that covered the ground after his special preparations were done.

The village guide road a crodlu borrowed from the caravan master and the two made quick time through the hazy desert. The constant silt in the air reduced visibility, but did not slow down the travelers much.

The guide reigned in his mount and pointed, “There it is.”

Itzcoalta gazed up at the dark crimson sun, and noted its position in the sky. ‘At least two more hours of sunlight remained before sunset. Then the spirits will be at full power.’

Both dismounted and Itzcoalta handed his reigns to the guide. Taking his water skin from the saddle and pulling down his scarf, he took a long drink. Turned to the guide, he ordered, “Wait here with the animals. Wait until sunset. If I am not back by then ride back to the village as hard as you can.”

Since he did not speak the Eldaarish dialect, Itzcoalta hoped that the man could understand him, and turned to look in the direction the man had pointed. A rocky outcropping jutted out of the desert sands. He could just barely make it out from this distance through the silt haze. Without looking back at the guide, Itzcoalta started out on foot towards the outcropping.

Upon reaching the outcropping, it did not take him long to find the cave entrance. He could not see anything through the cave’s darkness. Looking back the way he came he could not see the guide or the two animals through the haze. ‘Good. If I cannot see him he cannot see me do this,’ Itzcoalta thought.

He quickly sent a small plea to his patron for protection. In answer, a faint shimmering force surrounded his body. The spell would enhance the protection provided by his armor. And if that failed the more powerful spell he had cast back at camp should also protect him.

Reaching into a pouch on his belt, Itzcoalta brought out a small glass bead. The bead glowed with a light almost as bright as the harsh sun. Holding the bead aloft with his left hand, Itzcoalta drew his sword with his right, and entered the cave.

Almost immediately Itzcoalta had to stoop over. The cave’s ceiling was too low for him to stand up to his full height. Hunched over, Itzcoalta followed the cave as it slanted downwards. After a couple dozen steps the floor leveled off, but at this point the cave was barely more than 2 feet high.

Getting down on his hands and knees Itzcoalta peered down the tunnel. After a few feet the tunnel opened up into a large area, but Itzcoalta could not see what was in the room from here. Slowly, cautiously, he crept forward, and slid into the room.

The room was large enough for him to stand up. Holding the light bead overhead he looked around. The room was a tomb. Cloth-wrapped bodies were laid out on niches carved into the walls. Crude sarcophaguses were thrown about the floor, their contents spilling out.

“Noooo! The light! No light! No light! No life!” a haunting voice shouted out. Suddenly two figures appeared before Itzcoalta. They were once dwarves that much was clear, from their short height and stout muscles. Their skin was an unnaturally pale white, and their eyes glowed with a dark menace.

A low moan escaped both their lips as the two spirits rushed towards Itzcoalta. Taken off guard by their sudden appearance, Itzcoalta brought his sword up and tried to lash out at the first ghostly figure and missed. The two figures closed on him quickly attempting to smash Itzcoalta with their fists; however, his armor prevented any harm.

Trying to step back to get away from the creatures Itzcoalta foot struck the wall behind him. With no room to maneuver Itzcoalta could not get enough room to effectively wield his sword and his next swing was batted aside by one of the creatures. Panic rose within him as the two creatures pressed in closer, one trying to claw through his armor to no avail, while the other reach around the armor to his side and tried to dig its clawed hand into his side. The protection spell Itzcoalta had cast prevented the creature from doing any damage.

Remembering his spell protection, Itzcoalta tried to calm his rising panic. As he did so a new tactic came to him. Looking deep into himself, Itzcoalta tired to access the power of his nexus, seeking inner strength to enhance his physical strength. It worked. Vigor and intensity surged through his muscles. While he was distracted, the spirits batter against him again but his armor and his magic continued to protect him.

With his renewed vigor, Itzcoalta struck out with his sword, slashing the outstretched arms of one of the creatures. The wound did not bleed, but the creature let out a loud howl and backed away from Itzcoalta. Its companion struck at the man again but still had no effect.

With one of the creatures having retreated, Itzcoalta now had a little room to maneuver. He dropped the glass bead on the ground and stepped to the side to gain a little room between himself and the nearest of the undead. As he did so he drew his sword back over his right shoulder while gripping it with both hands. He pause a second until the creature lunged towards him before swinging away.

His blow struck the creature on the side of the head and sent it reeling. The creature bounced of the wall before tumbling to the ground.

Before he could absorb his triumph the second creature charged him again moaning louder. It renewed its attack frantically, landing two blows underneath his armor before Itzcoalta could respond with a back-handed swing that glanced of the creature’s arm without harm. Neither had the creature harmed him as his magic continued to hold strong.

As he turned to deal with the undead, the creature he had felled crawled towards him and took a feeble swing at him which bounced harmlessly off his leg armor.

Moving deeper into the room Itzcoalta repositioned himself so that he would only have to deal with the standing spirit. It pursued him across the room and the two struck at each other. Itzcoalta blow landed on the creature’s left shoulder, after which Itzcoalta stepped to the side to avoid the creature’s strike. A loud moan of frustration issued from the creature and it swung again and missed.

Itzcoalta’s next blow landed squarely in the creature’s chest and sent it flying into the wall behind it. A large hole gapped in the undead spirit’s chest showing the creature’s body was almost hollow. Despite the devastating wound the creature still moved trying to push itself off the wall and approach Itzcoalta again. Before it could Itzcoalta stepped forward with an over-the-shoulder slash. The obsidian sword slashed into the creature’s neck almost decapitating it. The undead spirit’s body collapsed to the floor no longer moving.

Itzcoalta watched the remains for a few seconds before a scratching sound brought his attention back to the other spirit. It was trying to claw its way across the floor towards him. Two swings of his obsidian sword caved in its head and stopped its feeble movements.

As he stood over the two corpses, his breath came heavily. Lowering his sword to his side, he disconnected to his nexus. As the adrenalin flow ceased, the fright of the fight began to dawn on him.

It had started so fast. He had not been in many close, physical confrontations such as this. But now he could see the benefits of his intense training. ‘Without it, I probably would have panicked. I would never have been able to tap my inner strength. And without that I do not think I would have ever struck down these monstrosities.’

As his breathing calmed, he went back to the entrance to retrieve the dropped light bead. Bending to pick it up, the bead suddenly went clattering away from him to the far side of the room, propelled by some unseen force.

Straightening quickly, Itzcoalta readied his sword as his gaze searched the room. Suddenly he could sense an attack on him in Mindscape. As he focused his consciousness into the Mindscape he threw up a hasty defense. Itzcoalta’s form in the Mindscape changed into a mythical winged snake creature. The graceful form twirls in the air to avoid the incoming attack. Just barely does the winged snake dart out of the way of a giant skeleton hand reaching up through the ground.

Darting to safety Itzcoalta prepared an attack of his own. Seeking to blast the skeletal hand to bits the winged-snake spits a lightning bolt at it. Before it could strike, the hand turned into a raging desert wind, and the lightning bolt passed threw it harmlessly.

Now the storm wind hurled towards Itzcoalta in an attack. He conjured a cave around himself to be protected from the wind. The walls of the cave shake from the wind but were able to hold it off. Itzcoalta could feel cracks being to appear in his cave. His inner nexus was beginning to fade as his energy was almost depleted.

Dropping out of Mindscape he scanned the room for his attack. He saw it on the other side of the room in the darkest corner away from his glow bead. But before he could act another attack came on him in Mindscape.

Returning to Mindscape he just managed to throw up a multi-color wall before the storm could engulf him. The wall deflected the force of the storm, but then collapsed. Itzcoalta fell out of Mindscape; his inner nexus was empty.

Frantically, Itzcoalta charged across the room, trying to reach his opponent before it could attack him again with psionics. He only made it halfway across the room before the attack came. Searing pain shot through his temple, throwing him off balance. Itzcoalta collapsed against the nearest wall. Dropping his sword, he held his head in his hands rubbing his temples trying to stop the pain.

The next attack came a moment later. It was like a knife through his brain. Itzcoalta’s head snapped back as if struck, slamming into the wall. A thin trickle of blood started from his left ear.

His vision was blurred by the pain. It cleared slowly as he waited for the next attack. But it did not come immediately. As his vision cleared he could see that the creature was advancing on him now, to attack him physically.

Grinding his teeth through the pain, Itzcoalta picked up his sword and took a few gingerly steps towards the spirit. The two exchanged ineffectual blows, Itzcoalta’s sword not able to penetrate the creature’s undead skin and the monster unable to strike through his armor. Another round of blows accomplished nothing, and the two combatants retreated a little to assess each other.

The pain in Itzcoalta’s mind was still intense. He tried to come up with some strategy but the pain clouded his mind. Before he could think of anything the creature was on him again. This time striking pass his armor and hitting him, but the protection spell still held, preventing the creature from damaging him. Itzcoalta landed a lucky blow, his sword striking the creature a glancing hit across the forehead.

Almost instantly, the pain was gone, and Itzcoalta realized his strike had disturbed the creature’s concentration. He needed to attack before the creature could work its psionics again on him. A couple of wild swings did nothing but drive the creature back, but when it stumbled slightly against one of the sarcophaguses, the obsidian blade found another opening, cutting a large wound down the creature’s left side.

Wounded, now the creature tried to flee back to its dark corner. But Itzcoalta would not let it go, chasing after it and striking at its back. By the time Itzcoalta had struck two more blows across the creature’s back, it seemed to know that its doom was near. Turning, it tried to attack Itzcoalta again to bring him down with it.

His spell continued to hold, just barely as Itzcoalta could feel it beginning to weaken. But it would not matter. After a few misses, Itzcoalta landed a strike into the undead’s stomach. The creature collapsed to move no more.

Quickly, Itzcoalta retrieved the light bead and made a quick search of the cave for any other opponents. When he found none, he sat against the wall to rest. While the intense pain in his head was gone, he was still injured. He would have to rest back at the village before seeking healing magic from his patron.

His strength and will returning, Itzcoalta climbed to his feet. Sword in one hand and the light bead in the other he made a detailed search of his surroundings. The cave was clearly an ancient tomb. He found a number of remains, but no sign of any more of the dwarven spirits. The remains of the tormented spirits that he had defeated had collapsed as if hollow and began to decompose quickly. By the time Itzcoalta had finished his search they were almost reduced to dust.

Itzcoalta returned the way he came. When he reached the cave entrance, he could see that the sun was setting.

“Hopefully, the village guide is still there and has not been frightened off yet. Well, I had better hurry... ohf!”

A fourth dwarven spirit landed on top of Itzcoalta knocking him to the ground, his sword flying from his hands. Taken by surprise, Itzcoalta was now pinned beneath the creature, and he could feel his magical protection giving way. He tried to throw the creature off of him but did not have the strength. The creature tried to dig its claws into Itzcoalta’s head, but could not. Just as the spell protection broke, Itzcoalta rolled his body sideways, knocking the undead off balance, and allowing him to roll away from the beast.

Climbing quickly to his feet, Itzcoalta eyed the dwarven spirit, which gazed back at him. His sword gone, Itzcoalta had little option.

“To hell with this. I have no other choice,” mutter Itzcoalta. His hands dug into pouches around his belt and came forth, one with a strip of leather and the other with small wooden stick. Waving his hands in an intricate pattern, Itzcoalta began to speak in an arcane language. As he did so, his body began to glow with a silver light.

The undead leapt forward to attack. Itzcoalta was quicker, finishing his incantation by pointing at the creature. A brilliant bolt of blue-white lightning emanated from his outstretched hand and struck the creature.

The flash of the lightning bolt had slightly blinded Itzcoalta in the dim light of dusk, and the loud crash of the thunder had been deafening. As he blinked his eyes clear of spots, he could see that his spell had blast the creature into oblivion.

****

His duty finished, Itzcoalta returned to the village. There he met with the village headman and Laxu. The caravan leader was overjoyed.

“Wonderful, this is great news! I will make arrangements so that the caravan can leave immediately. Now we can get back on schedule.”

The headman was more subdued.

“You are a powerful warrior, Lord. The entire village marvels at your prowess,” he said mildly, though his thoughts were confused.

‘Why did you do this, oh high and mighty one? Why did you risk your neck for us? It was not your problem, as you are not from this village. It was not your responsibility as you are not one of Daskinor's templars. You are just an outsider, a spy sent by another city’s cruel sorcerer-king. So why did you do it?’

****

In short order Laxu had finished his preparations and the caravan had left the village, disappearing into the dusk. His work finished, the headman was discussing the day’s events with his wife.

“This foreigner was truly strange. Why did he do what he did?” the headman asked.

“It should be clear, even to a mul-headed pile of mekillot droppings such as you,” replied his wife. “He wanted to show off the power of his King, so that when they conquer us, we will be suitable intimidated and will bow down before them and cause no trouble. Also to make us think he and the other templars of his King are more powerful than our King’s templars. That would make us lose confidence in King Daskinor’s forces when the enemy attacks us.”

“That foreign spy was truly dangerous. It is good that you reported him to the templars. You are so wise. But it is also best that he has moved on. Otherwise, when the Daskinor's templars came to arrest him, they may have accused you of being involved with him.”

“Ah, you are right, wife. Now I see how devious that filthy spy was. Good he is gone! Now I do not have to ponder that riddle any more,” stated the headman.

“Humph,” was all his wife replied. ‘You stupid old fool. You couldn’t even see that! If it wasn’t for me you would have been executed a long time ago for incompetence. Ah well, you are my old fool, and you are headman. And that makes me headman’s wife. That is something in this miserable life. Well, at least we do not have to fear the nights any more.’
#5

Band2

May 27, 2008 11:50:00 		Episode 2 – Hated Destroyers

Locale: A hanging jungle on the Jagged Cliff
Date: Dominary 20, Desert’s Fury, 190th King’s Age (Free Year 11)


Wir-obech had risen early. Standing just inside the entrance to his cave, he gazed into the dark mist outside. Long dark hair was gathered into a thick braid down his back almost to his waist. Both hands slowly moved through the air in a circular path from above his head down and around to meet at his abdomen, reverently, while his mind was on the events of the upcoming day. Wearing no shirt, the hard compact muscles moved fluidly with each motion.

‘They are coming. It will be today,’ Wir-obech thought. ‘I will be prepared.’

When he finished his gestures, he returned to the back of the cave that was his home and ate a small meal besides the clear pool of water there. The cave was not large, but was more than adequate for Wir-obech’s small body. He stood only three and a half feet tall, and could easily move through the cave despite the low ceiling. He would call himself a rhul-than, but others would say he was a halfling.

Once his body was refreshed, he performed a short ritual signifying the meal’s end. Then he went to prepare himself for the coming confrontation.

He knelt in front of rock shelf in which his “equipment” was stored. Wir-obech brought both hands up to his shoulders palms facing out. Closing his eyes, Wir-obech took a deep breath. As he exhaled he pressed his hands forward slowly, as if they were meeting some resistance. Wir-obech intoned the ritual of awakening. As he finished he ran his hands along the material of his protective armor.

The ceremony done, Wir-obech proceeded to put on the armor. It was unlike anything any Tablelander would have recognized. It appeared to be the black, scalely hide of some animal, but it fit Wir-obech’s body incredible well, as if it were a well tailored suit of clothing.

Once he was fully dressed, including a helmet of the same strange material, Wir-obech moved to the next item. Again he knelt and performed the ritual of awakening.

A small smile appeared on his face, as Wir-obech stroked a small spear that rested on the shelf. The spear, not made of wood, bone, or any recognizable material, seemed to move ever so slightly in response to his touch. Taking the “spear” from the ledge, Wir-obech hung it from a small hook on his armor at his left hip.

He stood and walked to the next shelf, knelt, and began the ritual again. As his arms reach out they paused for a second then spread apart with his palms faced down over a blade. The blade looked similar to a single-edged sword blade. The sharp edge curved outwards slightly, while the other edge was straight and dull. Unusually however, the blade had no hilt or handle. In place of a hilt were a number of loose straps. Wir-obech raised the sword using his left hand and placed the sword straps against his right arm. Instantly, the straps came alive and wrapped themselves around Wir-obech’s arm securing the sword in place.

The last item he needed was on an upper shelf. This time he bowed before it, and performed the ritual again. Reaching up with both hands he took a staff from the shelf. The staff was four feet long and ended with a spiked ball on both ends. It too was made from some unknown material.

Now fully armed and armored, Wir-obech sat in the center of the cave, with his legs crossed and placed his warstaff across his lap. Closing his eyes, Wir-obech slowed his breathing down. Slowly blocking out the rest of the work, he concentrated only on his breath. A deep inhale was followed by a long slow exhale. And again. And again. Entering his trance, Wir-obech tried to become one with his weapons.

Suddenly, Wir-obech’s eyes flew open. He felt another presence warning him. The enemy had come! They had entered the forest he was sworn to protect. It was time to face them. Quickly, he was on his feet and out of the cave entrance and traveling down.

****

Wir-obech was in place now. Hidden within the large palms of a fern, he waited in ambush. Thick vegetation surrounded him as far as the eye could see. Of course one could not see very far because an obscuring mist filled the air most days. Wir-obech could just make out objects 60 yards away. The thick jungle hung down the side of the steep slope of a cliff that stretched up into the sky and down in the darkness below.

Above was the small city where Wir-obech had grown up. He had lived there until he felt the calling of the nature spirit to him. He had traveled down to this thick hanging jungle and met the elder druid who tended to it. After years of apprenticeship he was initiated as a druid. All the while he had continued the martial training he had received as part of his town’s militia on his own. Now, Wir-obech felt he had found his life’s purpose.

The elder druid had moved on, to another place that needed him, and this jungle was Wir-obech’s responsibility. And now he waited for Them to appear. They came from down below. Wir-obech had never been to where the enemy lives, but he had faced them a number of times before. Ven-pahrs, they were called. Evil is how Wir-obech knew them. They worked destructive powers called “magic” that drained the life from the land leaving behind only ashes. The nature spirits cried out for protection from these evil creatures and Wir-obech was there to answer their call.

Wir-obech heard them before he could see them. The plants rustled with their passage. Then he could see them. Two of the creatures came into view. They were taller than Wir-obech, about seven feet tall, but incredibly skinny. It appeared their skin covered only bones, with little muscle or flesh beneath.

The ven-pahrs were spread apart. One would approach near Wir-obech’s hiding place, while the other maintained a distance of about 30 feet.

‘They are covering each other,’ thought Wir-obech, ‘So I cannot act against them both at the same time.’ Wir-obech quickly devised a strategy.

Holding the warstaff with one hand, the halfling began chanting softly, “Sum, ohm, mala sum. Sum, ohm, mala sum. Sum, ohm, mala sum.” The chant helped him contact the nature spirits so that he could ask for their help. As he finished, Wir-obech gestured with his free hand.

Suddenly the vegetation around the far ven-pahr lashed out at it. Branches reached out to hold it, vines wrapped around it tying it in place. The ven-pahr cursed in surprise. The trapped one struggled to free itself but was held tight. The nearest one was only a dozen steps away from Wir-obech with its back towards him as it started to go to help its comrade.

Barely rustling the leaves of the fern, Wir-obech charged forward. Swinging the warstaff horizontally at head level, he caught the ven-pahr directly in the chest as it turned in surprise. The blow knocked the creature off its feet and the warstaff’s spiked head left a huge bleeding hole in the creature’s chest.

Despite the horrible wound, the creature, lying on its back on the ground, began to murmur in a strange archaic language as it gestured its arms in the air. The creature was drawing energy from the land to use its magic! Before it was too late Wir-obech rushed over to the fallen monster with warstaff raised above his head. The warstaff crushed the ven-pahr’s head open before it could finish its spell.

But the arcane words did not stop. Spinning around, Wir-obech looked towards the trapped creature. Another ven-pahr had appeared. Apparently trailing behind the other two, Wir-obech had not seen it until now. As he watched it finished its casting. The plants that held the trapped ven-pahr disintegrated into ash. As it did so, two arrow-shaped bursts of energy flew from the ven-pahr’s outstretched hand towards Wir-obech. Twisting Wir-obech tried to hurl himself out of the way, but the bolts both struck him.

The pain was intense but did not incapacitate him. Quickly he was on his feet and moving towards the two ven-pahrs. They were both below him on the slope, so Wir-obech let himself fall towards them.

He collided into the one that had cast its spell at him sending both of them down into the thick underbrush. The two enemies rolled on the sloped ground through the heavy underbrush. They were too close together for the warstaff, so Wir-obech stabbed with his armblade, while the ven-pahr scraped with his claws. The sword missed, and Wir-obech’s helmet protected him from the ven-pahr’s claws.

Their downward roll began to come to a halt. Wir-obech ended up on top, and struck down again with his sword. This blow cut a large gash down the creature’s arm. The next punctured its chest. The third sliced through the creature’s neck ending its struggles. All the while, Wir-obech’s armor protected him from any damage.

‘There is still one more’ thought Wir-obech as he rolled off the dead ven-pahr and looked up slope. The last one was moving down the slope towards him, trying to follow the wild ride down the slope the halfling and ven-pahr had taken.

Wir-obech tried to hide in the underbrush, but was too late as the ven-pahr arrived. Quickly it called on its magic and a small part of the jungle died around it. A beam of orange light flung towards the halfling. This time, Wir-obech dodged aside and charged the creature.

Wir-obech swung the warstaff diagonally in a low attack. But the creature had a quarterstaff of its own and blocked the attack. It swung the other end of its staff towards Wir-obech’s head. The halfling was able to meet the attack with his warstaff.

The two opponents stood facing each other, weapons locked together. Wir-obech tried to push his opponent backwards. Despite his small size he was strong for his race, usually much stronger than the skinny ven-pahrs. But this one seemed unnaturally strong. It pushed back and was winning.

Quickly, Wir-obech changed tactics. He pivoted on his right foot. The sudden movement left the ven-pahr off balance. As it fell forward, Wir-obech pushed with his staff keeping the creature away from him and sending it tumbling to his left.

As it fell, Wir-obech brought the lower end of the warstaff up striking the creature’s leg. Now the enemy was down. Wir-obech started to move towards it to finish it off.

He only managed one step before he felt a hand fall on his shoulder. His heart froze for a second then he spun around. The next few seconds were all a blur. Wir-obech spun around to see a tall ven-pahr standing over him. Some of the vegetation around them turned to ash. The ven-pahr chanted a short arcane phrase, and Wir-obech was suddenly blinded by light. He had the sensation of falling. As if he had fallen off the cliff and would plummet to the bottom. The sensation lasted only seconds. When it ended, Wir-obech realized he was lying on the ground, staring up at a sky free from the gray mist.

He sat up and glanced around to see what happened, and his breath stopped short. Gone were the green plants, gray mist, and tall cliff of his home. Instead he was surrounded by empty rock. As far as he could see were rocky barrens, flat and featureless.

Wir-obech had lived his entire life within the dark confines of the mist, while clinging to the cliffs of his home. His mind could not grasp the endless horizontal expanse in front of him. His mouth forwarded words but no sound came out. His mind shut down and he fainted.
#6

Band2

May 27, 2008 11:53:03 		Episode 3 – Desert Recruitment

Locale: A small oasis
Date: Dominary 22, Desert’s Fury, 190th King’s Age (Free Year 11)

“And why you want Chika-Ra-L’tz to join large pack?” asked the thri-kreen towering over the man. They were on a small sand dune that overlooked an oasis. The man’s eight companions were below at the oasis setting up camp, while keeping a watchful eye on the two.
The man was a short man called Xern. He was very intimidated being this close to the giant mantis warrior, but he hid it well. He was trying to figure out what motivation he could offer the thri-kreen to join the army he was recruiting for.
“Well, my lord seeks to conquer the land, and he will offer great rewards to his servants,” replied the small man.
“Conquer land? (click) What would man do with so much land? (click) (click)” Chika-Ra-L’tz asked and waved its upper right arm as if to encompass a large area then tilted its head to the left waiting for an answer. The thri-kreen held a typical thri-kreen weapon, a gythka, with its lower right hand and its upper left hand. The lower left hand was grasping and ungrasping the handle of a long sword that hung from a harness on the creature’s body.
“No, no it’s not that he wants the land for himself,” the small man sputtered, changing tactics. “He wants to free the land from the rule of a sorcerer-k…”
“Sorcerer! (click) (click) (click)You fight sorcerers. (pop) (click) That is a very noble cause,” the thri-kreen responded. As it did so it shifted the gythka from its upper left hand to its upper right hand. The left hand was then free to gesture in the air very close to Xern’s head.
The closeness of the talons made Xern’s nervousness show a little and he took a step back.
“Yes, that’s right. My lord seeks to topple the evil sorcerer-king Tectuktitlay,” he told the thri-kreen.
“Sorcerers destroy land. Cause ancient spirits to cry out in pain. This evil sorcerer-king caused much pain to the land. (click) (pock) Of course Chika-Ra-L’tz will help your pack,” the thri-kreen stated as he moved quickly around behind Xern so that instead of standing on the man’s right he was now on the man’s left.
The thri-kreen’s quick movement caused Xern to jump back even further. “Yes, well, ah, good,” he managed to say. “If you are willing to join us, my lord is gathering his forces at this oasis and others in the area. I can take you to him so that you can pledge yourself to our cause.”
The thri-kreen bobbed its head up and down three times in acknowledgement.
#7

Band2

May 27, 2008 11:55:47 		Episode 4 – The Rock

Locale: Outside of Raam
Date: Dominary 27, Desert’s Fury, 190th King’s Age (Free Year 11)


As the sun rose over the outskirts of the city, the small caravan got under way. The six wagons pulled by kanks began to rumble down the road towards the east. They were different from the typical merchant wagons carrying pottery and cloth. Each wagon was a cage, made of sturdy mekillot bones, filled with living cargo. The outriders and caravan guards were more heavily armed than most and kept a wary eye for raiders as well as on their human cargo.

Most of these caged wagons were filled with a mixture of humans, dwarves, and a few muls, however, the last cage in the procession contained only one occupant, whose size filled the cage. The half-giant sat in the cage, he could not stand if we wanted to, with his head hung low staring out at the rough ground as it went by. He was large even by half-giant standards. Only tatter rags of what once appears to have been a uniform cloth his muscular physique. His body bore a number of bruises and freshly healing scares. His unkempt thick black hair appears to once have been braided into dreadlocks, but now it tumbled in heaps down his back.

Alrin-Ga did not remember much about what he had done or know why he acted the way he did. He just remembered the feelings of confusion that led to anger and knew that those feelings had caused him to lash out at the templar. He had had such episodes before, but typically the change was more gradual. This time was different; the feelings of confusion overwhelming him rapidly, and then the blind rage had descended over him.

He was not sure but he believed his idol, templar Mugashi, was probably dead. Alrin-Ga felt the loss deeply, as if a core part of his being was gone. Alrin-Ga had idolized Mugashi, emulating his commanding posture, admired his dedication to restoring order to the rabble of the chaotic city of Raam. But it was more than just respect. Alrin-Ga needed Mugashi. The anarchy of the city frightened Alrin-Ga, and he felt it at times overwhelming him. He needed to be around someone of authority and respect to help him feel secure. That had been the templar Mugashi, but now his idol was gone.

While Alrin-Ga’s memory was not good, his mind was stronger than many half-giants. He began to ponder the depression he was suffering and to attempt to find a way out. After a while, Alrin-Ga realized he needed an example to follow to show him how to respond to the uncertainty surrounding him. A few years before he had studied under an earth priest shaman and learned about the Elemental Lords of Earth. While pondering the teachings he had learned he found his answer.

Rock was strong, immovable. It did not get tossed around by the wild winds, the winds of adversity. No it was solid and not affect by simple set backs.

‘So that is it,’ thought Alrin-Ga. ‘I shall be like the rock.’

With that the half-giant's mood brightened a little as he settled himself into a crossed-leg position. And thus he sat, rarely moving over the days as the caravan traveled east from Raam.
#8

Band2

Jun 02, 2008 11:43:20 		Episode 5 – Captured!


Locale: Unknown
Date: Dominary 28, Desert’s Fury, 190th King’s Age (Free Year 11)

Wir-obech shifted slightly trying to find a more comfortable position. The tiny space would not be considered a cave by anyone other than a halfling. It had become a sanctuary to Wir-obech in this strange flat landscape in which he found himself exiled in.

After recovering his senses, the halfling had roamed aimlessly across the barren rocky plain. He was not sure how long he wandered until he saw a large rock outcropping in which he found the small cave. The hole was barely long enough for him to sleep in. Its height was not tall enough for Wir-obech to stand up, but he could sit up just barely.

Despite the cramped conditions, Wir-obech preferred to spend almost all of his time within the cave’s confines. The cave offered protection from the sun’s harsh rays, but that was only part of the reason. Inside the cave, Wir-obech felt as if he were back in his cliff-side home, and he did not have to face the strange flat world outside.

He had something else to take his mind off his queasiness. He was worried about his equipment. He had spent almost a week inside the cave and the living items were not fairing well. Using his connection with the nature spirits, Wir-obech had summoned food and water for himself and the items. But this help was very limited and both he and the items were undernourished. He worried that if he did not find a better way to care for the items soon they would perish. He tried to wear the items as much as possible so that they extract as much nutrients from his body as they could, but this was not possible for all of the items.

Suddenly, Wir-obech heard voices. The first sign he had experienced that other beings existed in this blasted land. Rushing outside he could see figures in the distance coming closer. There were about a dozen figures either leading or riding kanks. Wir-obech had never seen their like before. They had a similar appearance to rhul-than, but were almost twice as tall. The figures saw him and, after conferring with each other, a group of them came closer.

They wore strange clothes that needed repairs. Even Wir-obech who did not live in a village kept his clothes in better condition than these people. They bore weapons too, but their weapons were made out of different types of rock, and seemed very primitive to the rhul-than.

Despite their savage appearance, Wir-obech was overjoyed that he had finally seen other beings in this hellish place. So instead of being wary, he approached and began the ritual of greetings. But they did not appear to understand him. They talked to each other, but Wir-obech could not understand the language they spoke. Undaunted, Wir-obech continued with the ritual.

The strangers did not respond when he had finished. Instead they continued to talk to each other, rather rudely Wir-obech thought, in their harsh, guttural sounding language.

Eventually, they seemed to decide on something. One of the figures in the middle of the group smiled at Wir-obech. Normally, Wir-obech would have considered the emotional gesture rude in a meeting of strangers. But when the savage smiled his grin was crooked due to a number of missing teeth. That made Wir-obech anxious and he began to slowly back away towards his cave.

Suddenly one of the strangers lunged at Wir-obech, but the halfling was ready and leapt back out of the man’s grasp. Wir-obech shouted for them to leave him alone, but two of the attacker’s companions rushed forward with clubs, their companions shouting them on. Wir-obech blocked one with his armblade and the other bounced off his shoulder armor. In response, the halfling sliced his blade down one of the attacker’s arms drawing a cry of surprise but little blood.

Wir-obech continued to back away, but the two attackers pressed closer. As they swung at him again, Wir-obech changed tactics and rushed in under their attacks. He was too close to one of the attackers for the other one to risk attacking. Quickly wielding his blade he wounded the man on the chest and made a wicked wound down the man’s leg.

As the man fell his partner rushed in to attack, club raised high, but Wir-obech keeping his feet moving, spun out of the way of the attack. The man’s back swing was wild and missed Wir-obech by a mile. This created an opening for the halfling that he quickly exploited, rushing in and striking the attacker down his left side. Wir-obech continued past his attacker so that he stood behind him. As the man tried to turn quickly, Wir-obech sliced his blade into the man’s back. The man cried out in real pain now. Both club-wielders were seriously wounded and retreated back to their fellows. Wir-obech let them go, but there were still three others nearby.

The one who smiled at him started forward, a heavy stone axe in his hand. One of the other strangers followed him, while another started to circle to the left. Wir-obech waited for them, convinced now that these creatures were uncivilized savages that would not leave him be. He would be forced to drive them off.

The two in front of him stopped and waited, watching him while making jerking movements as if they were about to charge him. Wir-obech quickly realized these were feints to distract him from the other attacker on his left, but he gave no sign of this realization.

When the man had come even with him on the left he charged the halfling. Moving quickly and fluidly, Wir-obech dropped to his right knee as he turned towards the attacker. He drew the small spear, holding it with both hands towards his attacker. The attacker was not impressed by the small spear and continued his charge. When he was still a half-dozen steps away, Wir-obech pressed a section of the spear’s handle in. Suddenly the spear’s point shot forward as its size doubled in length. The point caught the surprised attacker in the thigh causing him to stumble. Using the suddenly longer lance as leverage, Wir-obech turned the man’s momentum aside so that he fell in a heap to the halfling’s right.

As quickly as it had grown the spear was back to its original size. Wir-obech slammed the flat of his arm blade into the back of the man’s head, stunning him. The other two strangers started forward to help their companion when a shout halted them.

Another of the travelers had approached the fight, and called out to them. This one was not as tall as the others but was wider, plumper. The round one began chanting in a way familiar to Wir-obech.

‘Ven-pahrs!’ thought Wir-obech. ‘They are some kind of ven-pahrs!’

Some of the small hardy desert weeds around Wir-obech suddenly withered and dried into ash. The man finished his chanting, and Wir-obech felt as if a weight had settled on him. He tried to rush forward to attack the ven-pahr, but he could no longer move his legs. Even his arms would not respond. He was frozen in place.

The small, round stranger approached the halfling. He circled Wir-obech looking him over. The man reached out a hand and gingerly touched Wir-obech’s armblade, as well as his helmet. All the while the other strangers were talking to the small man in their rough language, but the man ignored them.

Finally he barked out a series of commands, turned and walked away. The others descended on Wir-obech and roughly tied him up. Wir-obech and his possessions were carried down to the herd of kanks. He was tied on to the back of one of the insects.

Meanwhile, others went to search his cave and discovered his meager possessions, including his warstaff. When his capturers finished searching the rocky outcropping, the small caravan headed away from it into the deep desert. Despair threatened to overwhelm Wir-obech again.
#9

Band2

Jun 04, 2008 12:11:24 		Episode 6 – Disgraced


Locale: Small ruined village near Draj
Date: Sedulous 1, Desert’s Fury, 190th King’s Age (Free Year 11)

“Anticus take a patrol of ten men around the fields to the east and meet up with us here,” commander Kulhuatepec said pointing around the ravaged fields. “When we attack, the raiders should flee towards you allowing your unit to ambush them.” With that the moon priest turned his back on Anticus, dismissing him, and began issuing orders to his other commanders.

Anticus left the burned-out ruins of the building, and returned to his patrol of warriors on the outskirts of the ruined village. The Draji warriors were dressed in hide armor and wore their ceremonial feathered headdresses. Each was armed with a wicked looking obsidian-spiked club.

Seated on the ground, the warriors did not stand up when Anticus approached; a measure of the disrespect they held for him. At the same time Anticus did not order them to stand before he addressed them so the warriors would not tower over him, for Anticus is a dwarf, who stands less than 5 feet tall. He is also not part of the Draji army and wore no headdress.

Anticus was a psion and representative of the House of the Mind. Recently the members of the House of the Mind have begun to help the templars maintain order in the city-state in the wake of the disappearance of Sorcerer-King Tectuktitlay. Since the dwarf had had training as both a warrior and psioncist he was asked to represent the House of the Mind on Kulhuatepec’s expedition.

Kulhuatepec led a regiment of soldiers and templars attempting to track down the band of raiders that had destroyed a small client village. The scouts had not been able to identify the nature of the attackers, but the raiders were believed to have fled the village only recently, as Kulhuatepec’s soldiers approached.

“Here are your orders. We are to travel east and setup an ambush. The other warriors will attack the raiders and drive them to us. We will move out immediately. I want two man line formation with Toxco and Mancon out in front to scout the way,” Anticus's deep voice commanded.

The warriors reluctantly but quietly formed up and marched out. Anticus knew he could not trust the men. Knew that they deeply resented being put under his command, but he did not concern himself with the men’s loathing. He had a job to do and his focus was on completing it.

Two hours later, the trek underneath the brutal sun had not swayed Anticus’s determination. The patrol had entered badlands and would be in place for the ambush within the hour. The men had become tired from the long march through the hot sun, but now began to get excited about the prospects of the coming battle. Unfortunately they did not realize how soon it would be.

There was no warning. The first Anticus knew something was wrong was when a large weight landed on his back knocking him to the ground, the weight of his attacker pressing him into the dirt. Shouts of surprise from his men erupted all at once.

Anticus's small height belied his compact body's immense strength. Heaving upwards Anticus tossed his attacker backwards. Anticus ignored the sounds of combat surrounding him as he turned to focus on his attacker. The hunched-back humanoid before him was a gith. The creature had stumbled over when Anticus stood up and lay sprawled on the ground, two pieces of a broken crude wooden spear in its claws.

Before the gith could recover, Anticus roared a battle cry and brought his war-club smashing down on the creature’s head. The force of the swing caused the gith's skull to cave in spraying gore on to Anticus. Even though the first blow had been fatal, Anticus struck the creature twice more, both bone crushing strikes, before turning away.

The patrol had marched into a small chasm with cliffs overhanging both sides. The gith had attacked from above, leaping down on Anticus's men. Anticus could tell immediately that his men were outnumbered. All the warriors were locked in deadly combat with a number of gith. Before Anticus could determine how many gith were attacking his men, two more of the creatures charged him.

The dwarf crouched low as one gith swung a stone-headed axe at his head. The other gith's spear thrust was deflected by the thick hide armor Anticus wore. Before the first gith could recover from his swing, Anticus sliced his club into its knee, ripping through tendons and crushed the bones. The gith fell with a guttural scream.

Anticus did not have time to finish it off though; the spear-wielding gith leapt over its fallen comrade, forcing Anticus to retreat. The two traded ineffectually swings as Anticus continued to give ground. The gith's spear gave it a longer reach than Anticus's weapon and he could not get close enough to the creature to connect with a solid swing without putting himself at danger.

Soon the situation was out of Anticus’s hands. He backed into the canyon wall. With nowhere else to go, Anticus charged. The gith sliced through the armor on Anticus's arm before he was close enough to attack. His first swing missed as the gith jumped backwards out of the way, but Anticus pressed the attack and connected on the second swing. The blow smashed into the gith's right arm, causing it to drop its spear.

With its right arm hanging useless, the gith struck out with its left claw scratching across the dwarf's forehead. The wound hardly fazed him and Anticus's follow up swing smashed into the gith's chest, crushing it.

With no immediate opponents facing him, Anticus had a moment to take in the battle. Two of the Draji warriors were already down. The six warriors behind him battled with ten gith. On the other side of the battle, six gith closed off the passage blocking any escape in that direction.

In front, the two lead warriors were battling against five gith; however, both were seriously wounded already and did not appear to be able to hold out much longer. In addition, Anticus could see more gith on the cliffs above waiting for an opening to leap down on the Draji warriors.

‘We must escape,’ thought Anticus.

“Warriors of Draj! Prepare to advance up the canyon on my command! Prepare to break off combat on my command!” Anticus shouted over the battle.

Anticus paused for a second to calm himself. Reaching into his inner nexus, he sought to gather his psionic energy and focused it on a section of the canyon wall near the battle at the end of the canyon. The invisible energy converged on a large rock in the canyon wall, and a second later it exploded showering the section of the canyon with deadly projectiles.

When the debris cleared, Anticus could see that both Draji warriors were down and no longer moving. However, none of the gith were on their feet either.

“Warriors of Draj! This way! Follow me!”

Anticus led the charge, pausing only quickly to smash his club into the head of one of the gith that was struggling to its feet. He was unsure if the men followed him or not, or how quickly the gith had responded to the men’s flight. Only when he reached the end of the canyon did he stop to turn around. He could see five of his men fleeing towards him pursued closely by the gith.

Quickly Anticus stepped into hiding behind a boulder near the canyon's end, waiting. After his men ran by, Anticus waited as the gith past. When he saw the tenth one run by, he struck out at it with his club. Missed, as the gith, unaware that the dwarf was even there, sped by in pursuit of the fleeing men. Anticus had hopped to distract the gith from his men allowing them to escape, but most of the gith had already past him by and were eagerly chasing down his men.

Only six gith that had been lagging behind the others noticed him. Most of these gith were wounded from the fight, but when they noticed the six of them faced only one dwarf, they swarmed to attack. Three gith charged directly at Anticus while two moved to flank him from either side. The last one held back.

Anticus pressed his back against the rock wall of the canyon determined to take as many gith with him as possible. Taking a deep breath he reached into his nexus to prepare himself for battle. The battle became a blur.

A stone battle axe struck the wall just beside his head shattering. A club bounced off his armor, and Anticus lashed out at the wielder, missing. Then a spear glanced off his chest armor to bite into his side.

Next, the gith whose axe had shattered tried to grapple him. Anticus struck with an underhand swing of his club that connected with the weaponless gith's jaw, shattering it and sending the creature tumbling backwards. A spear came towards his face that he managed to block just in time. But a second later a club smashed into his left elbow. Another blow struck the side of his head, as one of the gith closed from his flank. His helmet cushioned the blow slightly, but blood began to flow down the side of his head.

The gith tried to press their advanced but their primitive weapons could not penetrate Anticus’s tough hide armor. His next swing struck a gith a glancing blow. The gith retreated allowing another to take his place.

This gith came charging in with its stone-headed axe raise high, but Anticus surprised him by leaving the protection of the wall and charging towards him. An elbow slammed into the gith's stomach, caused it to double over and Anticus brought his war club around in a two-handed swing. The massive blow struck the creature in the back of the neck, crudely decapitating it. At the same time shards of obsidian flew out and the wood of the club split in two.

Weaponless, Anticus had to face two gith that were on him quickly. A blow struck him in the back as he tried to dodge and another cut into his armor.

Desperately glancing around, Anticus spotted the decapitated gith's axe on the ground nearby. He managed to pick it up just as a third gith struck him from behind. The spear bit deep into his left leg and nearly caused him to loose his balance. He swung the axe feebly at the gith missing them all.

The three gith backed off, panting. The dwarf had killed two of their companions and wounded a third, but know he appeared to be hobbled. Grins spread across their cruel mouths. The last gith, who had held back from the fight called out to the others. It hoisted a spear and aimed at the dwarf.

Fighting through the pain in his leg, breathing labored from the exertion of combat, Anticus’s focus had not changed. He would continue to fight these gith until he or they were dead. He saw the gith preparing to toss the spear at him. Breathing heavily, Anticus focused on the spear, willing his inner energy away from the combat and outward towards the spear.

As the gith released the spear, Anticus connected with his psionic energy and changed the path of the spear. Instead of striking Anticus, it buried itself into one of the gith. The gith screamed in surprise. Before they could recover, Anticus quickly struck out at the nearest. It was the one that had struck him in the leg with the spear. Limping, Anticus rushed towards it and brought the axe down on the creature’s right foot.

Panicked the gith backed away, surprise and pain clouding its eyes. Another gith rushed to its aid, striking at Anticus’s back, but his hide armor absorbed the blow.

Pressing his attack, Anticus slammed a shoulder into the hobbled gith, knocking it to the ground and brought the axe crashing into its chest to finish the gith off. At the last moment, Anticus turned and blocked a blow by the other gith with his ax.

Now Anticus only faced one gith, as the other two, the spear thrower and the one hit by the spear, argued back and forth. The gith attacked wildly, attacking with overhead swings that Anticus deflected with his ax. Anticus struck back cutting the axe horizontally and slicing the gith’s belly open.

The argument between the other two gith finally ended with the spear thrower pulling his spear out of the other then using it to prod the gith to face Anticus. These were the only two gith left to face Anticus. The gith struck by the spear was seriously wounded and approached Anticus slowly, while the other held back and tried to circle around behind the dwarf.

Anticus held back waiting for the gith, while tried to calm his breathing. He turned inwards again to his nexus. His inner energy was almost exhausted but he reached deep down for once last attack. Focusing on the spear wielding gith, he sent his energy flowing towards it in a hard rush. The gith was flung back a half dozen feet and fell over a boulder.

Seizing the moment, Anticus turned on the other gith. The gith was too wounded to put up much of a fight and fell quickly to Anticus's ax.

Turning from the downed gith, Anticus faced the last gith who had regained its feet and charged. Anticus charged as well. Both struck each other head on. The gith's spear tore through Anticus's armor and buried itself into his shoulder. Anticus's axe found its mark in the gith’s chest. Anticus staggering from his wound, managed to keep his feet. The gith did not.

Surveying the scene around him, Anticus looked on the bodies of the six dead gith. He was not far from joining them.

Anticus thoughts turned towards his men, and he took a few stumbling steps in the direction they had fled. His wounds were too great, though. He sought shelter in a rocky outcropping nearby. Collapsing in the shade, he soon passed out.

***

Hours later he awoke. Body still crying out. The pain still raw. Throat dry and parched from lack of water. Despite the adversity, dwarves are hearty beings. Anticus struggled to his feet and began the long march back to the army's camp.

****

With his limp, Anticus did not reach the burned out village that served as the army’s camp until the early hours of the morning. The camp was still in chaos. Apparently, the other main body of troops had been ambushed as well and fled in defeat. Wounded were lying everywhere. Healers struggling to keep up. Anticus tried to find a healer that could help him with his wounds. Before he could, he was summoned to the commander’s tent.

A dozen commanders were already present. Kulhuatepec was in a rage and turned it on Anticus.

“You! You are responsible for this ignoble defeat! You failed in your mission!” Kulhuatepec screamed hysterically at Anticus.

“I was only …” Anticus’s voice was low from his wounds and his exhaustion.

Cutting him off Kulhuatepec continued, “All your troops are dead! You led them into a trap! You are a disgrace. A pathetic commander!”

“You gave away my position allowing the gith to ambush us! Yes, that is the only way this could have happened. Clearly your incompetence caused this defeat,” Kulhuatepec began to grow calmer.

The exhausted dwarf could barely stay on his feet.

“What is to be done with him, Commander Kulhuatepec,” one of the other officers asked. Anticus was too tired to turn to see which one.

“What to do with him? Hmm. Arrest him!” Kulhuatepec decided.

“Yes, arrest him and send him back to Draj bound! Have him sent to the city gladiator stable!”

Anticus knew that he was being sentenced to death, but he was too exhausted to respond when rough hands grabbed him from behind and dragged him from the tent.

****

Days later and elsewhere…

The tent was very dark, and Xern found the air always to be uncomfortably chilled inside, despite the oppressive heat of the noon sun outside. Only three candles provided any light inside the tent, leaving Xern and the other occupant in shadows.

Xern stood before the other gentleman, who was seated on a large chair. Even seated the other man was taller than Xern. His voice was thick and loud in the enclosed space. “Excellent work Xern. A thri-kreen, and a druid at that. He could be most useful, as long as you keep him in line.”

“Yes, my lord. Would you like to meet him, so that he may pledge himself to your cause?”

“No, that will not be necessary. Have him work with that strange halfling, Bintulu captured. His appearance and dress is most interesting. I want to learn as much as possible about it quickly.”

“Yes, I will see to it. Your army is being built and soon should be ready to topple that toad-faced Tec-lay.”

“Yes, yes. Now get back to your work.”

Just then the tent flap opened throwing sunlight throughout the interior of the tent, and illuminating the two occupants. The man on the chair was a huge muscular man with dark black hair, neatly groomed with a well trimmed beard and mustache. He wore a dark cloak over his bare chest, black leather pants and boots.

“My lord,” said the sentry.

“Yes, what is it?” replied the seated man.

“Colhua has returned and says he has important news! He asks for an immediate audience, my lord!”

“Certainly, send him in quickly,” was the reply.

Xern moved off to the side of the tent, while the man in the chair held his chin in his hand pondering what the important news would be. Together the two waited in silence. Minutes later, Colhua came into the tent.

Colhua was a tall warrior with dark tanned skin. His clothes showed the signs of hasty travel. His body was covered with sweat, though he had wiped it from his face before entering. The chill in the tent caused him to shiver as he moved quickly towards the seated man. He bowed quickly on one knee then stood to report.

“My lord, Tectuktitlay has fallen!”

“What?! How? When?”

“They say his son, now sits on his throne.”

“Wait, start from the beginning, Colhua,” the seated man ordered.

The warrior took a couple of seconds to compose himself before beginning. “As you know, I accompanied your allies the Stone Skull gith tribe on their raid of one of the Tectuktitlay’s villages. The raid went successfully, and the gith then set an ambush for a force of Draji soldiers that sought retaliation. It worked perfectly and the Draj were slaughtered.”

“I managed to stop the gith from killing all of their captives. By interrogating these captives I learned that Tectuktitlay disappeared almost two months ago. The templars made the announcement that he was dead and that Atzetuk, his son, was the new king.”

“Excellent! I must strike now before this whelp has time to consolidate his rule. Quickly, Xern, Colhua go to our allies, call up the tribes. Tell them we march in two weeks. Gather as many warriors who are ready. Hurry!”

“This is it. Soon I will sit on the throne of Draj!”

“Yes, Lord Farlcunn!” both subordinates said as they bowed before rushing out of the tent.
#10

Band2

Jun 06, 2008 12:01:32 		Episode 7 - Caravan Raid

Locale: The vast desert between Raam and Draj
Date: Sedulous 3, Desert’s Fury, 190th King’s Age (Free Year 11)

The dark desert night was broken only by the camp fires of the large caravan. The three stealthy shadows used the firelight to hone in on their target. Moving swiftly the three tall, lanky figures moved into position at the bottom of a large sandy dune between themselves and the caravan. Without exchanging words, the tallest of the three, standing almost seven and a half feet tall, motioned for the others to wait as he crawled up the sand dune on his belly.

As he reached the top of the dune, Ral meed slowed his crawl. Cresting the top, the elf had a grand view of his tribe’s target, the caravan’s kank herd.

Ral meed’s tribe was in dire-straights through a string of bad luck. Their kank herd had died off from a mysterious plague. Shortly after, the tribe was attacked by a cloud ray, a giant creature of the sky that had killed and wounded many of the tribe’s best warriors. Since then, the tribe has suffered a number of attacks from slavers out of Draj. The tribe needed to revive their kank herd before beginning their run into the desert to get away from the bad luck they had run into in the vicinity of Draj.

Tonight, they would get that herd. The elves had tracked the caravan for the last two days. Now they were ready to strike.

Ral meed was a scout and more for his tribe. Growing up with the elven tribe in the desert he learned how to survive in the harsh environment and would do what ever it takes to make sure the tribe survives.

His first objective was to disable the nearest guards around the herd. From his prone position, Ral meed began to move his arms in an artistic pattern as he whispered arcane verses. His eyes glowed with a purple light as he gathered energy to release his arcane spell. When he finished his chant he pointed towards the nearest patrol of three guards. All three suddenly became very drowsy and sank to the ground. Quickly all were asleep.

That task finished Ral meed moved slowly back down the sand dune towards his companions. He nodded to one of his companions, who cupped his hands and gave a very convincing imitation of a night vulture’s call. Another bird call answered back from far across the dunes. Then the three elves waited in silence.

The silence was broken by shouts of alarm from the merchant camp. Ral meed returned to the crest of the sand dune, this time with the two companions. From their position they could see flames coming from one of the caravan wagons on the far side of the camp. The merchants and guards were franticly rushing to put out the fire. Quickly the three elves raced down the sand dune heading directly towards the kank herd. No one in the caravan noticed the approach of the three tall figures.

Quickly into the herd, the three elves gained control of the domesticated animals and had them on their way into the desert. Another band of six elves appeared out of the desert night. These elves were much younger than the three raiders, just teenagers. They took charge of the animal herd and drove them into the desert night, as the raiders turned back to the camp for one more mission. The elves wanted to raid the caravan’s water supply. Not to take all of it, but they would need some to sustain the large kank herd they had just acquired.

Leading two of the kanks back into the camp the three headed for the water barrels. With the confusion of the fire, the elves had managed to secure two barrels of water on the backs of each kank and were just gathering a few extra water skins when caravan guards first spotted them.

Immediately Ral meed turned to the youngest elf and ordered, “Go!”

Dropping his armload of water skins, Ral meed drew his bone sword, as the youngest elf ran into the night with the two water laden kanks. Ral meed and his companion, Zal assta, stayed behind to block any pursuit. Five guards had spotted them. One ran off to alert more guards as the other four approached cautiously.

Zal assta and Ral meed ran straight towards the lead guard, single file with Zal assta in the lead. The guard stopped and readied his war axe as the fleet footed elves closed with him quickly. Just before he would have closed to within striking distance, Zal assta veered away to the left. The guard’s eyes followed Zal assta for a second, momentarily distracting him from Ral meed, who continued his charge. The elf scout’s bone sword slashed out, cutting the guard across the chest. Then the elf was past him still running, too fast for the guard to strike back.

Ral meed circled back around towards the guard, legs pushing him faster. Coming at the guard again Ral meed stutter-stepped and leapt first right and then left. His second leap left him just outside of sword range and he stopped. The guard had been trying to follow the swift erratic movements of the elf and startled in surprise when he halted. Just then Zal assta struck the guard from behind, his elven bone sword slashing open his back and knocking the guard over.

Seeing the first guard fall, the other three guards charged forward. The two elves split up; Ral meed running around to the right while Zal assta ran left. One of the guards tossed a spear at Ral meed but missed. The other two each chased after one of the fleeing elves.

Ral meed’s long strides allowed him to easily outpace his pursuer and he circled back around to the guard who had stopped to throw the spear. The guard was now armed with only a war club. Ral meed came charging in. The last few feet he stutter-stepped dodging left and right, bringing his sword in low. At the last second he halted his low swing and brought the sword up and swung down on the guard’s head. He missed. The guard confused by Ral meed’s quick movements took a step back and stumbled slightly. That saved his life as the elf’s sword missed his head by inches.

Instead of continuing passed the guard, Ral meed tried to press the attack. His next two swings darted in quickly only to be deflected by the guard’s club. The guard responded with his club, but his strike hit Ral meed on the padding of his leather armor without harming him.

Ral meed could see the guard who had pursued him closing on him now. With a quick faint to drive his nearest opponent away he then took off running again. As he did so, he saw Zal assta returning towards him, having outrun his pursuer. Ral meed angled towards the elf, and slowed his pace so that his pursuer was only a half dozen steps behind.

With the pursuing guard’s attention on Ral meed, he did not see Zal assta coming towards him. Suddenly Ral meed veered left. Now the guard only had a second to see Zal assta coming at him before the elf drove his sword into the guard’s arm. Shouting with pain and frustration the guard tried to strike the elf with his obsidian battle ax, but the elf was too quick and already running away from him.

The guard stopped running to catch his breath and check his wound, while Ral meed had turned back and came running in on the guard’s flank. The guard turned at the last moment to face the threat. Ral meed under-handed swing left a large cut up the guard’s leg. He was almost past the guard, when the battle axe struck him in the left arm.

The blow was not very hard, but it knocked the elf off balance, and he stumbled forward. Falling over, Ral meed had to put one hand to the ground to stop from falling face first into the ground.

The guard saw the elf stop running and thought he was hurt badly. Raising his battle axe he charged forward to finish the elf. Before the guard could get close enough, Ral meed was back on both feet, and his sword lashed out. His long arms giving him a greater reach, Ral meed cut the guard’s neck, before he could get within striking range with his ax.

After the guard fell, Ral meed looked up to see Zal assta had come back and was watching him from a dozen yards away. They were far out in the desert now, away from the caravan, but not in the same direction in which the kank herd had been lead.

Zal assta smiled in victory at Ral meed. Ral meed returned the smile and started chuckling. “Great work. We always fight well together. Now let’s get back to th...” Ral meed did not get to finish his sentence. Suddenly the world exploded.

A ball of flame came hurling out of the desert night striking Zal assta and exploded. The explosion washed over Ral meed knocking him backwards, as he tried to dive out of the way. He hit the ground hard. Pain overwhelmed him, clouding his vision. He could hear nothing but a ringing in his ears.

He struggled to push himself put through the pain, but managed to only raise himself a few inches off the ground. Slowly his vision cleared and he turned to look where Zal assta had been standing. Almost nothing was left of his friend and companion. The sight drained the little strength he had left and Ral meed fell back to the ground.

Later as his hearing began to return he was aware of men around him, but he could not make out what they were saying. He struggled to turn over to see who was around him.

“See that one is still alive. Take him and we will sell him to the gladiator pits to recoup some of our losses,” a voice commanded.

Rough hands lifted Ral meed up. The pain in his head became overwhelming and he passed out.
#11

Band2

Jun 10, 2008 9:13:09 		Episode 8 - The Arena


Locale: Arena of Draj
Date: Sedulous 4, Desert’s Fury, 190th King’s Age (Free Year 11)

‘How did I end up here?’ Ramsus wondered to himself again, as he swept his gaze around the small cramped room. He had been a gladiator in the stables of a minor noble of Draj. His training had gone well and his trainers had been slightly impressed by the mul’s athletic build. But for reasons unknown to Ramsus, two days ago he and a half dozen other gladiators were taken from his master’s pens by soldiers. The warriors had taken them to the city’s gladiator pens.

Now Ramsus was waiting for his first fight since being moved. It could easily be his last. City gladiators rarely survived long. They were sent into the arena for the opening acts of gladiator competitions. Usually the matches were against ferocious creatures of the desert. And even if the gladiator won his match, there was no one to care for his wounds in the slave pens. He could be called upon to fight again whenever the Master of Games wanted.

Ramsus had fought in the arena of Draj before, under his old master's banner. Then he had fought as a team with a more experienced gladiator as his partner. They had been successful. But the city gladiators were not organized into fighting pairs. Instead once a monster was let loose into the arena, the gladiators were sent in four at a time to face it.

Some gladiators were able to survive in the city pens. The successful ones formed into gangs or fighting teams of four or more that would always fight together in the arena. Typically these groups received favored treatment from the guards, only being sent into the arena after other groups had already softened up the beast.

Ramsus knew that the only way for him to survive was to impress one of the gangs with his fighting ability so that they ask him to join.

Four gladiators had gone before him into the arena to face today’s beast. The shouts from the crowd were muffled here in the waiting cell. Ramsus gazed at the other occupants of the cell. A man sat across from him, looked as frightened as any man could be. From his weak physique, to his clumsy hold on his spear, Ramsus had him pegged as a scholar slave that had upset his master and been sentenced to the pits.

Next to the man, was another mul like Ramsus. His bulging muscles showed great strength but Ramsus had learned that he was no warrior. Talking to him earlier, Ramsus learned that he was a manual labor slave, sentenced to the pits for disobedience.

No, the only other warrior was the woman that sat next to him. She was human, but strong. She was armed with an obsidian war club and a shield. From her calm demeanor, Ramsus had guessed she had done this before, but had been unable to engage her in conversation.

The crowd had gone silent and suddenly there was a guard at the cell door.

“Get ready. You will enter the arena in a few moments.”

Ramsus’s grip on his weapons tightened. He held a spear and was also armed with a wrist razor. He would have preferred his favorite weapon, a carrikal, instead of the spear, but the wrist razor was another weapon he favored.

The doors to the arena flew open and harsh sunlight poured into the cell. The guards shouted, “Go! Go! Go!”

The four gladiators rushed into the arena. Ramsus took a couple of steps into the arena and stopped. Squinting as his eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight after the dark confines of the cell he scanned the arena looking for his adversary.

‘Whatever it is, it is going to be attracted to movement first,’ Ramsus thought to himself.

Now he could see it, a large reptile called a lirr. It was feasting on the body of a gladiator it had killed, but stopped and stared at this new group.

The scholar slave panicked and ran off towards the far side of the arena. Instantly the lirr took off in pursuit. The crowd came alive with a cheer.

“He does not stand a chance,” muttered Ramsus. “None of us do, unless we work together.”

Just as the lirr was catching the scholar slave, Ramsus turned to look at the other two gladiators still near him. The other mul had begun backing away from the direction of the lirr, spear held outstretch in his shaking hands. The woman warrior had her back against the arena wall her weapon ready and a sharp eye on the beast.

“Listen, do not be frightened. We can beat this thing and survive today but only if the three of us do it together. What say you?” Ramsus said.

Neither one responded.

“Look none of us are capable of taking down the creature by ourselfs. I do not care how good you think you are. Now, help me defeat it or we all are doomed,” Ramsus pleaded. The woman nodded her head and moved to join Ramsus. The mul only shook his head and continued to slowly back away.

“Tec damn you!” Ramsus roared. “Get your ass over here or I’ll break my spear on you thick head!” Bellowing Ramsus took a step towards the mul. Cowed, the mul bowed his head and moved to join Ramsus and the woman.

“Now! Follow me,” ordered Ramsus and turned to face the lirr. It had taken down the scholar slave and finished him off by wrapping its jaws around the slave’s neck crushing it. It was now feasting on the remains as Ramsus and the other gladiators approached it from behind.

Ramsus motioned for the other two to spread out, with the mul to his right and the woman on his left. They were still moving in when the lirr looked around and spotted them. Whirling around, it gazed directly at Ramsus. The colorful membrane around the creature’s neck flared out as the lirr hissing a warning.

Hesitating only a fraction, Ramsus shouted, “Charge!” and rushed to attack. He only managed a couple of steps when the giant lizard let out a deafening barking roar. The sound of the roar bowled Ramsus over, stunning him. Though Ramsus could not hear them the crowd cheered, as if on cue, when the lirr roared.

Now the lirr was going to pouch on the fallen mul. Before it could the woman reached it and swung her club at its flank. The obsidian-studded war club cut a gash down the creature’s side. Then the female gladiator continued on past the creature.

As it turned to chase her, the mul arrived from its other flank and thrust with his spear. The spear skitted off the lizard’s scales doing no damage to the creature. It did turn the lirr’s attention to the mul, however. Springing forward the lirr knocked the mul over raked him with its front claws and bit deep into his shoulder. The lirr had the mul pinned underneath it and continued to maul him.

Ramsus slowly regained his senses, cursing himself for being weak. Climbing to his feet he then raced over to the lirr thrusting with his spear. He wanted to get it away from the other mul slave before it killed him. His strike punctured the lirr’s scaly hide just behind its hind leg.

Barking in pain the creature turned around and took a snap at Ramsus. It missed as Ramsus quickly backed away from it. Continuing to back away, Ramsus kept his spear leveled at the beast. Slowly the lirr followed him, crawling off the savaged body of the mul. Though he was still breathing, it was just barely. The mul’s face and torso were a bloody mess with little of his facial features still recognizable.

Ramsus felt a small pang of regret that he had not saved the mul. He made another thrust with his spear that missed the creature’s head. The lirr darted forward to bite at his leg, but Ramsus backpedaled out of the way. His next stab glanced of the lirr’s scales. Surprising him, the lirr reared up on its hind legs and tried to take Ramsus down as it had done the other mul. Desperately, Ramsus thrust his spear into the monster’s jaws diverting it. The jaws clamped down on the spear, retching it from his grasp and breaking it into pieces.

For a moment the two were together in a deadly embrace and the lirr’s front claws scratched down Ramsus sides drawing blood, before Ramsus could back away from the creature. Backing away from the creature Ramsus checked the wounds and found them to be shallow, nothing to worry about. But now with his spear broken, he was only armed with a wrist razor.

The female gladiator was there then, her club smashing into the creature’s tail. Confused, the wounded lirr turned and bit at her blindly. The woman tried an overhand swing to crush the lirr’s head but missed. This time the creature bit hold of her leg. With an oath the woman cried out from the pain. Shaking its head from side to side tipped the woman off balance and she fell heavily to the arena floor. The crowd cheered loudly.

Ramsus rushed to help the fallen woman. Her club had fallen from her grasp and she only held her shield, which she tried to use to fend off the lirr as it crawled over her trying to reach her neck with its jaws.

Ramsus reached the creature and began frantically slashing with his wrist razor. Some of his blows cut the creatures and others glanced off its scales. The creature was too wounded, too confused to tell where the attacks were coming from anymore. All it knew was that prey was under it. Assuming it was the cause of its continued pain it lashed out with teeth and claws to kill it.

Finally one of Ramsus’s slashes cut into the lizard’s throat. Ramsus wrapped his arms around the creature as it began its death throws and tried to drag it off of the female gladiator. That earned him a couple of more scratches on his legs and arms, but once the creature’s movements ended he was able to fully drag its body off of the female gladiator.

Looking down on her, Ramsus was relieved to see she was still alive. Her shield had protected her vital areas from harm, but the bite on her leg looked very serious. He was not sure how much medicinal attention she would receive in the pits, but maybe just maybe she would survive. That he may have saved the life of a fellow gladiator brought more joy to Ramsus than the applause from the crowd.
#12

Band2

Jun 17, 2008 11:25:51 		Episode 9 – Round One


Locale: Arena of Draj
Date: Sedulous 8, Desert’s Fury, 190th King’s Age (Free Year 11)

Ramsus struck a pose that showed off the bulging muscles of his back and shoulders. Ramsus’s skin was lighter than that of the Draji people, and the oil he had greased himself with made his skin shine brighter and gave his muscles more definition. He was strutting and he knew it. But Ramsus hopped a little bravado would impress the crowd.

Ramsus stood in the middle of the arena. He slowly shifted into another pose to show off his well-built left arm. The crowd of the half-full stadium responded to Ramsus’s exhibition with a smattering of shouts and cheers. As this was the first match of the day, many of the spectators were still arriving. Ramsus was determined to give those that had arrived early a show they would not soon forget.

His previous plan had not worked. None of the gladiator gangs had been impressed enough with his bout four days ago to ask him to join their gang. So Ramsus decided he needed more showmanship to impress at least one of the gangs.

Ramsus had managed to keep the wrist razor from his last battle, and this time he was armed with a carrikal as well. Other than a pair of sandals and a loincloth, Ramsus was only given a couple of small pieces of leather armor for his arms. The rag-tag armor left most of the mul’s muscular legs and torso bare.

When he had first entered the arena, the mul had strode confidently towards the center of the arena, hurled the carrikal down so that its blade sunk into the earth near his feet, and begun his routine.

As Ramsus moved into another pose, he thought about the other people who had entered the arena with him. They were the first gladiators of the day, so there would be no softening up of the beast they faced this day. For him to succeed in his plan, Ramsus would have to rely on these fellow gladiators.

Again, there were three others that had been forced into the arena with Ramsus. None had he met before. One he could tell was a fellow trained gladiator. A human man who claimed his name was only Tax. He was strong and well built. Ramsus expected he had been in a few gladiator matches before but was not an expert yet.

There was another human man with them. He was too scared to talk to Ramsus before the fight and would not even say his name. The man looked like a field slave because his body had been through a lot of manual labor. He did not appear to know how to handle a weapon and was armed with only a club.

The last member of the group was a dwarf. He had refused to give his name or even talk to Ramsus earlier, but Ramsus had heard the guards call him Anticus. He appeared to have had some combat training, so Ramsus hoped he could be counted on in the up-coming fight.

Anticus was standing a dozen yards behind the preening mul. He thought the mul’s display ridiculous but then again he had never been a big fan of the gladiator games. He stayed near the field slave who he recognized as having no combat skill. Anticus had tried to reassure the man that he would be alright; that Anticus would try to protect him, but the man was almost shaking with fear.

Anticus still wore the remains of his hide armor. Much of the armor was gone leaving a patchwork of pieces remaining, mostly on his shoulders, back, and legs. His clothes were in tatters though. All that remained of his uniform were tattered rags that hung from the dwarf’s waist like a skirt. He had healed his wounds from the battle against the gith with his psionic abilities, but figured this day’s battle may bring more. He was armed with an obsidian-headed spear and a small leather buckler. He gripped these tighter as he waited for the match to begin.

Some of the crowd had grown bored with Ramsus’s posturing and shouts began for the day’s entertainment to begin.

“Now, now. That will be quite enough of that,” a voice boomed across the stadium. “Save your strength for the challenges that face you, my intrepid friend.” The voice came from a balcony that stood out high over the arena floor. Templar Tlaxcala was the arena announcer. He had a flamboyant style about him that the crowd enjoyed. Typically he wore very outlandish costumes, and today was no exception, as he was dressed in the brightly colored uniform and turban of a Raamish mansabdar.

The crowd cheered his appearance, though some rowdier members shouted crude insults at the hated uniform he wore.

“Today these condemned souls are presented for your mild entertainment. The beasts they face this day are ferocious monsters from the depth of the desert. Their viciousness knows no end. These monsters would surely kill us all if not for the strength of our good king Atzetuk. We all rejoice in the protection of mighty King Atzetuk. Now, beast master, release your horde!” Tlaxcala shouted. As he did so the crowd roared its approval.

Beneath Tlaxcala’s balcony two thick wooden doors began to open. The crowd began a rhythmic chanting while stomping their feet. The chamber behind the doors was in shadows, so no one could see what was inside.

In a blur, three gray skinned humanoids rushed from the opened doorway. The creatures had short bow-legs and overly long arms that reached the ground. As they ran they ran on three limbs, using the knuckles of one of their hands. In the other hand they carried crude clubs. They rushed a couple of dozen feet into the arena before stopping. Bunched together they seemed to be communicating in a crude language of grunts and howls.

Ramsus calmly picked up his carrikal and pointed with it at the largest slig. “That one’s mine. Y’all take the other two,” he shouted to the other fighters and started walking towards the sligs. Tax followed the mul, but Anticus and the other slave held back.

As the gladiators approached, the sligs separated, with the big one starting forward towards Ramsus. The mul stopped. He turned his body sideways with his left side facing towards the beast. His right hand held the carrikal and casually bounced it up and down. His left arm he extended towards the slig and motioned for it to hurry up. The crowd’s chanting stopped as part of it roared its approval for Ramsus’s bravado.

The slig snorted and huffed. Becoming agitated, it hopping up and down in a small circle while banging its hand against the ground. After completing a full circle the slig charged towards the mul with an unusual three limbed gait.

Ramsus waited for it unmoving, as the snorting, grunting slig charged closer. When it was only a couple of feet away, the slig stood up to it’s full height and raised it’s club with both hands over it’s head. Ramsus sprung into action bringing his weapon around in a deadly swing at the slig’s neck. But he mistimed the swing and missed. He allowed his momentum to carry his body with it to the side and avoided the slig’s blow as well.

Now the two opponents were very close. The slig swung its club back and forth at Ramsus. The mul backed away from the creature while using his carrikal to deflect the blows. Trying to concentrate on defense, he made only a couple of half-hearted attacks. One managed only to open a small cut on the slig’s right arm. One of the slig’s blows landed on his left shoulder, but the blow was minor.

The slig continued to drive Ramsus back, until he managed to catch the slig’s club between the two blades of his carrikal. Ramsus quickly spun his weapon in a vertical circle that yanked the club from the slig’s grasp and sent it flying.

The slig quickly back pedaled away, and Ramsus let it go. He raised both arms over his head to draw more cheers from the crowd. He turned his back to the slig and turned appreciatively towards the crowd, purposely allowing the slig to circle around and reclaim its weapon.

The cheers of the crowd seemed to agitate the slig even more as it hopped up and down slamming its hand and club against the arena floor. Ramsus turned back towards it.

“Come on! Come on!” he screamed at the beast while slamming his left hand against his chest for emphasis.

The slig grunted a response and charged. Ramsus crouched low facing the beast full on. He held the carrikal low, shifting it back and forth. This time the creature did not try to swing with its club but simply lowered its lead shoulder and tried to slam it into the mul.

Ramsus leapt to his right at the last second, avoiding the beast’s onrush, and swung the carrikal low. He struck the slig’s left leg, behind the shin, and yanked the weapon up and away. Its leg jerked out from underneath it sent the slig sprawling onto its back. The crowd yelled at the maneuver and applauded even more as Ramsus once again turned his back on the beast and moved away from it.

The slig was quickly back on it’s feet, but as it tried to move it’s wounded left leg gave out on it. It was hobbled. No longer able to charge across the arena it howled in disgust at Ramsus.

As the cheers of the crowd died down, Ramsus turned back to finish off the slig. Though hobbled, the slig was still dangerous. Moving in carefully, Ramsus began to exchange blows with the beast. Because of his now greater maneuverability, Ramsus was able to dodge the slig’s attacks while landing a number of blows on the creature. Finally, Ramsus brought his weapon down on the slig’s right forearm almost severing it. The blow caused the creature to drop its weapon, and clutch its arm to its chest.

Ramsus knew it was time to finish the battle. Holding his carrikal with both hands he swung it in a massive strike that caved in the right side of the creature’s head.

Ramsus worked to disentangle his weapon from the slig’s skull as the crowd rooted him on.


Upon seeing the sligs, Anticus had the slave stand behind him. They traded weapons so that the slave now held the spear. Anticus showed him quickly how to hold the spear over Anticus’s head.

One of the sligs charged towards the two.

“Steady,” Anticus whispered to the slave behind him, “steady.” He could see the spear point shaking and knew the slave was scared out of his wits.

Anticus focused his inner nexus outward. Trying to concentrate in the noisy arena, he attempted to focus the inner energy on the slig’s club, to destroy it. But the slig was moving too fast and Anticus could not concentrate and his attempt failed. Cursing under his breath, he prepared to meet the creature’s charge.

Grunting and snorting, the slig rushed in quick. Batting aside the spear, it raised itself up to tower over the dwarf and attacked, raining blow after blow down on the dwarf. Anticus used his shield and the remains of his armor to deflect the blows and retaliated with his club. Most of the combatants’ blows missed, but the slig did strike a glancing blow off Anticus’s left arm above where he wore the shield. But the blow was minor. Meanwhile the slave tried unsuccessfully to strike the slig with his spear.

After trading a few ineffectual blows Anticus landed a solid blow to the slig’s side audibly cracking some ribs. The slig bellowed in pain and anger.

That was it for the slave. Dropping the spear he turned and ran. The slig, sensing a weaker opponent, rushed after him. Anticus tried to stop it, but missed.

Bounding across the arena, the slig quickly caught up with the fleeing slave. With a savage back-handed swing, he clubbed the slave in the head. The slave tumbled to the ground, barely conscious. Howling in victory, the slig clubbed the slave again and again as he lay on the ground.

Anticus finally reached them. Instead of stopping to swing his club, the dwarf simply lowered his shoulder and bowled into the slig’s back. He knocked the slig away from the prone slave, but it quickly regained its balance and turned on him with a vicious swing.

Anticus caught the slig’s club between his club and buckler. Moving quickly the dwarf tried to use his leverage and great strength to pull the slig off it’s feet. However, the slig was able to pull its weapon free before Anticus could do so.

The two took a couple of steps back and began to circle each other. Almost at the same instant the two charged. Anticus took a glancing blow to the shoulder, but delivered on an upswing to the creature’s jaw. Both recovered and swung again. And again.

Finally the two backed away from each other. Anticus had a large bruise spreading on the left side of his face, but the slig looked worse. Its left arm hung limply at its side, and its breathing was labored from cracked ribs. Anticus had landed a second blow there making it worse. The slig wobbled on its feet.

Anticus took a few breaths waiting to see if the slig would fall. It wobbled unsteadily but did not fall. Sighing in resignation, Anticus moved towards the creature. He brought the club high up over his right shoulder and swung down on the slig’s head. The creature could barely put up a show of defense and the club snapped back the slig’s head and knocked it over.

Anticus stood a few seconds over the slig with his club raised up over his head waiting to see if the creature would get up. When it did not, Anticus slowly lowered the club and closed his eyes. As his breathing returned to normal he opened his eyes and glanced around the arena. He saw Ramsus calmly standing over his kill, and watched as the other gladiator, Tax, finished off the last slig.

Anticus walked over to where the field slave lay on the arena floor and thought to himself, ‘Good. I have survived the first fight. I can survive here. Survive long enough to get out of here and get my revenge.’

As he approached the downed slave, Anticus could see that the man was still alive, though barely. Getting to his knees, Anticus took one of the slave’s hands in both of his and tried to tap his inner nexus and transform it into healing energy for the slave.
#13

Band2

Jun 24, 2008 16:43:45 		Episode 10 – Round Two


Locale: Arena of Draj
Date: Sedulous 8, Desert’s Fury, 190th King’s Age (Free Year 11)

Ramsus watched as Tax killed the last of the sligs. He had taken a few blows from the slig’s club, but was able to defeat it in the end. With the last opponent down, the crowd applauded the gladiators.

“Well done. Well done,” Tlaxcala shouted down while slowly clapping.

“It seems these gladiators have some fight in them.”

To the surprise of many, Ramsus shouted back at the templar.

“We have a lot more fight in us. These pathetic creatures could barely stand. We did them a favor putting them out of their misery. Give us something that will challenge us. If you can!” This last was said with a sneer. For three seconds the entire arena was quiet. Then suddenly everyone started talked at the same time.

The sudden noise broke Anticus’s concentration before he could activate his healing power to help the unconscious slave. He looked around to see what the commotion was.

Ramsus stood calmly gazing up at Tlaxcala. Tax went over to Ramsus and shouted something that was drowned out by the crowd noise, while pumping his axe in the air. Tlaxcala stared back for a moment before speaking.

“Quiet! Quiet,” he ordered. The crowd hushed, expectantly waiting for the templar to continue.

“It seems we have a self-possessed warrior in the arena today. Let us see if we can oblige him. Beast master release your horde!” Tlaxcala threw his arms over his head as he finished and the arena crowd leapt to its feet and shouted its approval. Anticus looked up in horror. He shouted, “No!” but was drowned out by the crowd’s cheer.

The enthusiasm of the crowd washed over Ramsus, and he smiled wide. Tax and Ramsus waved their hands above their heads and gestured to the crowd to keep cheering louder and louder. They seemed to be having the time of their lives. Anticus rushed towards the two, desperate to stop them.

The dwarf approached Ramsus from behind, grabbed his arm and pulled the mul around. Angrily, Anticus demanded an explanation from Ramsus on what he was trying to do, but the crowd noise had grown too loud and Ramsus could not understand what the dwarf was saying. This only caused Anticus to become frustrated. He tried yelling louder and pointed at the fallen body of the slave. Ramsus, not understanding him, only shrugged his shoulders.

While they tried fruitlessly to communicate, the doors to the animal pits had opened again. Anticus and Ramsus only realized this when the crowd roared their approval upon seeing the two creatures that emerged.

The creatures appeared to be a cross between a frog and a lizard. Their hide was made of bright yellow scales, while their hind legs were frog-like. On their backs were strange green crystals, just behind their heads. The creatures were called dagorrans and were popular attractions in the arena.

Tax had already charged off towards the dagorrans before Anticus and Ramsus were even aware the two creatures had been released. One of the creatures spotted the slave lying on the ground halfway across the arena. It made a huge hop through the air and then another as it made its way quickly to the fallen slave.

“We have to save him!” Anticus yelled and started running to try to head off the dagorran before it could reach the fallen slave. Figuring Tax could handle the other one by himself, Ramsus followed after the dwarf.

Unseen by the two as they raced after the first dagorran, Tax approached the other. As he did so, the strange crystals on its back suddenly began to glow. Tax was knocked backwards by an unseen force and fell onto his back. Before he could get back to his feet, the dagorran hopped on top of him pinning him to the ground.

The crowd gasped at the turn of events. Ramsus stopped at the sound and turned to see what caused it. Seeing Tax’s predicament he gave up following Anticus and charged to Tax’s aid.

Anticus did not stop because of the crowd noise, but his short legs prevented him from cutting off the dagorran. Its last hop brought it just next to the unconscious slave. Its massive mouth closed on the slave’s body ripping a huge chuck out of it.

Anticus slowed his run, and cursed himself for the man’s death.

“I can still avenge him,” Anticus said to himself and charged.

The dagorran had bent its head down again and taken another bite leaving it distracted. Anticus was already behind it before the dagorran knew it. He brought his club down hard on the creature’s back.

The dagorran gave a loud honking croak and spun to face the dwarf. It moved much faster than Anticus expected. Its side pushed the dwarf off balance and away from it. As Anticus struggled to keep his balance he felt the creature’s jaw sink into his back. The creature tried to twist its head back to yank Anticus off his feet, but the dwarf reacted without thinking and dove forward escaping the sharp jaws.

Scrambling to his feet, Anticus felt more surprise than pain from the dagorran’s bite. But he had no time to think about his back, as the dagorran approached quickly, jaws snapping.

Back pedaling Anticus continued to swing his club at the dagorran. He connected on a couple of strikes, while the creature only managed a small bite to his arm.

The dagorran seemed dazed by its wounds and stopped pursuing the dwarf. Anticus wound not give it any time and charged to the attack. Just as the strange green crystals on its back were beginning to glow, Anticus slammed his club into the creature’s head. The blow prevented the dagorran from activating its psionic abilities.

Anticus’s next blow was a massive double-handed, over-the-head strike that rocked the large dagorran back a couple of feet. It also caused Anticus’s club to break into dozens of pieces.

Anticus stared at the broken stump of the club in his hand for a second and cursed. Throwing the useless stump away Anticus looked around in desperation. But his blow had stunned the Dagorran. It was still moving but sluggishly.

Anticus now had hope that even unarmed he could best the creature. He just needed a little room to use his psionic powers. Quickly he moved away from the beast and began to focus on his nexus. As he felt the energy harvested from his nexus he focused it onto the ground just in front of the dagorran. The ground before the creature exploded sending a spray of sharp rock flying into the creature’s hide. The dagorran shuttered once, teetered and then fell over.

As the adrenalin began to leave his body, Anticus began to feel the pain of his wounds. Blood flowed freely and heavily down his back.


Across the arena Ramsus rushed to Tax’s aid. He could see the gladiator frantically trying to free himself while fending off the dagorran’s jaws. Ramsus could see that Tax was bleeding, but could not tell how badly he was wounded.

Moving quickly Ramsus approached from behind the creature. Before he got close enough though, the green crystals on the creature’s back began to glow. Suddenly the creature whirled on Ramsus and made a loud hissing noise. Ramsus hesitated a moment then charged.

He swung the carrikal high at the dagorran’s face, but the blow missed as the creature pulled its head back. This was just a feint, as Ramsus reversed the swing and brought the carrikal in low, aiming for the creature’s right leg. However, the weapon glanced off the creature’s scaly hide, causing little damage.

Now it was Ramsus’s turn to scramble backwards, as the dagorran’s jaws snapped at him. He used his weapon to fend off the creature’s attacks, while looking for an opening.

As he continued to back away, Ramsus could see Tax. The gladiator was wounded, but was trying to stand up.

‘Good, he can still fight,’ thought Ramsus who had been worried that Tax may have been killed.

Pain flared down his arm. Ramsus had been distracted slightly when he had noticed Tax, and the dagorran had managed to almost take his arm off. At the last second Ramsus pulled his arm free, but the monster’s teeth left bloody trails down his right arm.

Quickly flipping his weapon to his left hand, Ramsus did not miss a beat, and struck the dagorran on the side of the head. The blow did little more than stun the monster, as he struck with the shaft of the weapon. The small row of teeth imbedded in the shaft did draw a little blood.

Ramsus continued to give ground, but he tried not to continually back-up in the same direction. By alternating retreating diagonally to the left and right, he deflected much of the dagorran’s blows, while not being forced too far across the arena.

A shout announced Tax’s return to the fight. He attacked from the creature’s left but missed. Now the creature had two opponents to deal with. Quickly the two gladiators worked out a rhythm were one would rush forward to get the dagorran’s attention, while the other attacked its vulnerable flanks. In this manner the gladiators were both able to draw blood while managing to escape injury to themselves.

Ramsus was just growing confident that they had the creature bested. With the wounds they had inflicted, the dagorran appeared to be tiring. But just as Tax drew the creature’s attention, and Ramsus was preparing to rush at the creature’s blind side, the dagorran’s crystals began to glow softly. Immediately Ramsus felt he was being attacked in the mindscape. Quickly he tried to throw up a quick psionic defense, but was too late.

In the mindscape the green glowing dagorran pounced on Ramsus’s manifestation. The pain was sharp but brief. The mental wound shallow, but the attack distracted Ramsus, and quickly the dagorran spun around to face him. The dagorran’s head slammed into the mul’s body, sending him reeling to the ground, his carrikal flying from his hand. Before the creature could take advantage of the fallen mul, Tax was there attacking it.

Ramsus was quickly on his feet, and unlashing the wrist razor to ready it for battle. The dagorran was pressing Tax back, not letting him retreat to a safe distance. Ramsus charged to the attack. Slashing again and again with the wrist razor, Ramsus pressed the attack. Tax redoubled his efforts and the two soon battered the dagorran to death.

In the wild melee, both had received additional wounds from the dagorran before it perished. Ramsus had a shallow cut down his left side, which bled less than the wound on his right arm. Tax had the more serious injury, as he had been bitten on the left leg, and was now moving with a noticeable limp.

The two battered and bleeding gladiators looked at each other over the dead dagorran. After a few heavy breaths they both began to laugh, pride filling them over their victory. As he went to help Tax, Ramsus noticed the dwarf had already finished off the other dagorran. Ramsus allowed Tax to put an arm over his shoulder to support himself on his injured leg. Together the two shuffled over and collected Ramsus’s carrikal. All the while, the crowd shouted and applauded them. The crowd had not expected such a dramatic battle so early in the day and was surprised at how much they enjoyed it. Many of the late arrivals were anxiously asking those around them what had happen.

Tlaxcala stood at the railing of his balcony again and clapping passively. As the crowd’s cheers died down he spoke, “Bravo, brave gladiators. It seems these miserable retches have some fighting skill. The crowd acknowledges you brav...”

He was cut off when Ramsus shouted, “That was no challenge! We want to fight again! Right now! And this time we want a real challenge!”

The crowd responded with a great roar of approval at the bravado. Tlaxcala stared down at Ramsus, menacingly. He continued to stare at the gladiator, who returned the stare unflinching, even after the cheering had subsided. After a long moment of silence he finally spoke, “Very well. Rest yourselves for a few moments while we ready your last challenge.”
#14

Band2

Jun 30, 2008 13:54:55 		Episode 11 – Round Three


Locale: Arena of Draj
Date: Sedulous 8, Desert’s Fury, 190th King’s Age (Free Year 11)

Anticus was fuming mad at the mul. If he had a weapon he probably would have tried to kill the mul. Instead he had more immediate things to handle. First he needed to tend to his wounds. Tapping his inner power, he can heal wounds. Because of the excitement of the fight, it took him a couple of tries to gain the concentration he needed but eventually he was able to stop the wound on his back from bleeding. While the wound was far from healed, it was no longer an immediate threat.

Next he checked on the fallen slave in the vain hope he was still alive, but he was to be disappointed. The man’s remains were a ghastly mess after the dagorran had feasted on it. Lastly, Anticus went to retreat the spear that the fallen slave had dropped earlier, to arm himself for the next battle.

Tax and Ramsus sat in the middle of the arena waiting for their next opponents. They spent the time resting and tending as best they could to their wounds.

After an aid whispered something to him, Tlaxcala announced, “Now your opponents are ready for battle. Prepare yourselves mighty warriors. Prepare yourselves for these, the Terror of the Forest Ridge!”

With that announcement, drums started to beat and the great doors opened again. This time five diminutive figures darted out into the arena. The figures, halflings, were smaller than the dwarf Anticus, and had a wild look about them. Their bodies looked thin as if they were half-starved. Their hair was long and unkempt. They wore tattered rags around their wastes and nothing else, and were armed with short spears and clubs.

Ramsus and Tax prepared themselves for battle. They stayed close together, so that Ramsus could help support Tax if he stumbled. Anticus stayed back on his side of the arena.

One of the halflings spoke to the others in their unusual chirping language. Instantly, two of the halflings went to face the two gladiators while a third ran towards Anticus. The last one stayed back with the leader.

“Here they come. You ready?” Ramsus asked.

“Yeah, I guess. Let’s make our names live forever,” Tax responded.

The two halflings spread out so that each would approach the two gladiators from a different angle. The two halflings were still a good distance away, when the leader began chanting a strange phrase over and over again. Ramsus was unsure of what each meant, until suddenly he felt a great weight descend on him. It was as if all his muscles were placed in a giant clamp and would not move. He was frozen in place and could not move to defend himself. Panic flooded through his brain.

Anticus waited for the halfling to approach. The closer it came the more the dwarf began to pity him. The halfling looked like he was wasting away due to starvation. But any pity Anticus had for the halfling was held in check by the wild desperate look his eyes.

Anticus brandished his spear. The halfling only had a club, leaving Anticus with the greater reach. Moving quickly, the halfling batted the spear point out of his way with the club and tried to move in close before Anticus could recover. But Anticus was ready. Instead of trying to swing the spear point back at the halfling, he pulled the spear in the same direction the halfling had hit it. This built momentum in the other end of the spear which Anticus swung around at the halfling. The blunt end of the spear struck the halfling a heavy blow to the head. The blow staggered the halfling, who teetered on his feet. Anticus moved in for the kill. Before he finished it off, the halfling did manage to defiantly strike Anticus’s arm a glancing blow with the club.

With Ramsus unable to move, Tax moved forward to face the halflings alone. The wound in his leg limited his mobility and that was his downfall. The halflings were quick. Tax struck at one who quickly darted out of the way.

Meanwhile, the other snuck up behind him and drove a spear into Tax’s hamstring. Bellowing in pain and rage, Tax turned on the halfling and landed a shallow strike that did little more than draw blood. Then the first halfling was on him from the other side and delivered a blow to the side of Tax’s knee that sent him tumbling to the ground.

Both halflings pounced on the fallen gladiator. Tax trashed about at his two attackers, but they were too nimble and soon his desperate attacks ceased.

Anticus had heard the halfling leader’s chant and realized he was a shaman. With his magic he was definitely the most dangerous opponent. Anticus was determined to take him out. Entering the mindscape, Anticus began to build what he hoped was a devastating attack. He poured almost all of the remaining energy from his nexus into his attack construct, an avalanche of tumbling boulders, and sent it tumbling down towards the mind of the halfling shaman.

Anticus proved to be lucky. The halfling shaman had no training in the Way, and panicked when he saw the massive attack that threatened him. The psionic attack caused the shaman to visible stumble and stop a new chant he had just begun. The nearby halfling moved quickly to the shaman’s aid, but the shaman waved him away. Staring malevolently across at Anticus, the shaman ordered the other halfling to attack the dwarf.

Ramsus watched in horror as the two halflings killed Tax. As soon as the man stopped moving one of the halflings began hungrily gnawing on the dead man’s arm. The other approached the still mul. Frantically Ramsus tried to will his muscles to move, only to fail. The halfling rammed his spear into Ramsus’s gut and then used it to knock the mul over. Satisfied that the mul was taken care of he turned and joined his fellow in eating the remains of Tax.

Anticus knew he had wounded the shaman badly, but not enough. He mustered the last of his psionic energy for a final attack on the shaman, but this one was wasted as his attack, a hurled rock missed the shaman’s construct in the mindscape.

Anticus remained standing still pretending he was occupied in the mindscape as the other halfling charged towards him. At the last moment he quickly brought his spear up and set it to receive the halfling’s charge. But the halfling was too quick and jumped aside.

Now the two were close and jousted each other with their spears. Anticus’s spear was longer and he struck the halfling a slight blow, but could not keep the halfling from cutting him in the thigh.

Anticus pressed closer hoping to use his greater strength to overpower the halfling. At first he only managed to earn a cut down his arm from the halfling’s spear, until he landed a solid blow to the halfling, almost slicing the halfling’s left arm off. With his left arm hanging useless at his side, the halfling could not effectively use his spear, allowing Anticus to quickly finish him off with a couple of spear strikes.

Victorious again, Anticus turned to find the shaman directly behind him. The shaman’s club came slashing across to strike the dwarf’s head. Anticus reeled in pain almost blacking out. He stumbled to one knee, struggling to maintain consciousness.

The shaman rushed to finish him off. At the last second, Anticus was able to focus his clouded vision and just managed to block the next blow with his spear.

The shaman, frustrated that he had not finished the dwarf off, began spitting and cursing in his language.

Frustration and anger welled up in Anticus and he yelled, “Shut up!” and then slugged the halfling with his bare fist. The blow sent the halfling stumbling back. By the time he had recovered, Anticus was on his feet again and ready.

The halfling still spitting curses charged, and died on the dwarf’s spear. Anticus let the spear drop from his hand, as the weight of the dead halfling impaled on the spear was too much from him to hold up. He staggered on his feet, swaying side to side before falling heavily to one knee. From there, using an arm to stop from falling face first to the ground, he tried to catch his breath. After he did so he looked up and scanned the arena for the other combatants.

As Ramsus lay on the arena floor, he could feel the wound bleeding, and he thought he was going to die. It was only slowly that he realized that he could move again. When he could, he looked down at his stomach wound. Hope filled him. The wound was not as bad as it looked. Ramsus’s abdomen muscles were rock hard and had helped prevent the spear’s point from penetrating too deeply and striking his vital organs.

‘It’s bad. But it’s not fatal,’ Ramsus thought. Then his thoughts turned to getting even with the halflings. He climbed painfully to his feet and shuffled towards the two halflings feasting on Tax’s remains.

At first the halflings were too distracted by their feast to notice Ramsus. Only after he had approached closer did one of the halflings notice him. Shouting a warning he fumbled for his spear. Meanwhile, the other halfling turned and stared stupefied at the mul.

In a short rush Ramsus closed the distance between the two and swung his carrikal in a vicious double-handed blow. The weapon’s head buried itself in the stunned halfling’s head. The momentum of the swing threatened to disrupt Ramsus’s precarious balance, so after connecting he let the weapon go, leaving it buried in the dead halfling.

The last halfling screamed, spitting blood and chunks of flesh from his mouth as he charged Ramsus. The mul used his wrist razors to block the halfling’s attack, but could not muster the strength to make an effective counter attack. Ramsus slowly began to give ground, as he strived to fend off the halfling’s wild attacks.

Anticus witnessed all of this from his side of the arena. Slowly he pulled himself to his feet. Picking up one of the fallen halflings’ clubs, he went to join the fight.

Moving gingerly, he approached the combatants and shouted a battle cry. Anticus’s first blow missed, only causing the halfling to turn his attack on the dwarf. That gave Ramsus the movement of respite that he needed to renew his attack. The wrist razors left a long tear down the halfling’s back. He tried to return his attention to Ramsus, but Anticus again shouted and swung wildly at the halfling. For a couple of precious seconds the halfling wavered between the two opponents, allowing Ramsus to slash with his wrist razors again, leaving a blood wound on the halfling’s face.

The halfling stabbed wildly with his spear, as blood flooded freely into his eyes, while crying in pain and rage. Anticus stepped in and end the halfling’s suffering quickly with a blow to the back of the head.

As the last halfling fell, the crowd applauded and cheered its approval of the three round match. The two surviving gladiators stood a few feet apart on unsteady legs. Anticus let drop the club, as he no longer had the strength to hold it. The crowd’s cheers went on and on and on.

Finally as it began to die down, Tlaxcala shouted, “Marvelous, marvelous. You have certainly provided us with a superb show. What an amazing feat, ladies and gentlemen.”

At this the crowd began to applaud anew. Tlaxcala waited patiently for the second wave of applause to taper off.

“See what entertainment our beloved King provides to you, his subjects. See what determination is bred here in Draj. No wonder our foes quake when they here that we Draji are coming. They know what feats the people of Draj can accomplish on the field of battle. You have just been witness to it yourselves, again.”

“That was nottin’,” mumbled Ramsus. “We can go another round. Bring on some …” Ramsus was cut off as Anticus slammed into the mul. The two fell on top of each other.

Weakly trying to fend of the dwarf Ramsus tried calling up to the templar, “One more, come on. One more.” Then the mul’s shouts were muffled as Anticus pushed his face into the dirt of the arena floor.
#15

Band2

Jul 08, 2008 12:46:25 		Episode 12 – Bad Impressions


Locale: Arena of Draj
Date: Sedulous 8, Desert’s Fury, 190th King’s Age (Free Year 11)

Ral meed moved erratically around the cell. His eyes darted this way and that, as if looking for the tiniest means of escape. He walked stooped over slightly as the ceiling was too low for him to stand up straight to his full seven and a half feet.

His wounds from the caravan battle had healed, but left him with horrid burn scars on the right side of his face and neck. Though covered by his tunic the burn scars continued across his right shoulder and down his back. The elf’s long brown hair hung in a wild mess down past his shoulders. Some of the stains of the unkempt hair hung down in front of his eyes, but he rarely bothered to brush them aside as walked aimlessly about the ten by ten foot cell.

“It is too tight in here. This cell is too small. There is no room for me. No room for air even,” Ral meed whispered to himself. The cell had three walls made of thick bricks with a fourth wall of thick mekillot bones lashed together for bars.

Ral meed rushed to the bars. Gripping one with each hand he tried to pull them apart, but despite his great strength the bars did not break, just like the last five times he had tried in the last hour.

Giving the bars a last rattle, Ral meed turned and continued his wandering of the cell. The cell was deep within the slave pits of the gladiatorial arena in Draj. He had been in the same cell since he had arrived two days ago.

The caravan guards had bound and gagged him after his defeat. His bonds had not been removed for the next three days as the caravan returned to Draj. A quick sale to the city and he was taken down into this cell. At first he was glad that his bounds had been removed. But after spending two days in the cell he would have much preferred to have been back in the caravan. There he could see the open desert and the clear sky. Now it was as if the walls of the cell were closing in on him.

“Let me out of here. Let me out of here!” Ral meed screamed frantically, as he ran back to the bars and began to rattle them.

“Don’t worry. You’ll get your chance to fight,” a passing guard said and swatted at Ral meed’s hands with a short wooden club. The blow struck the bone bars, rattling them, and the guard moved on down the hallway laughing.

After staring banefully at the guard until he had turned a corner, Ral meed whispered to himself, “Calm down. You have got to get a hold of yourself.”

Ral meed could feel his nerves drawn tight. He felt as if he was ready to snap. He wanted to lash out at anyone and everyone. But there was no one he could lay his hands on. In the back of Ral meed’s mind, these feelings had been setting off alarm bells. Only now did he gradually hear them.

“This is dangerous. I could be losing my mind,” Ral meed whispered through clenched teeth. He forced himself to sit cross-legged in the middle of the cell with his back towards the cell door. Facing the wall, he closed his eyes and began trying to control his breathing. In his panicked state it had been racing. Slowly Ral meed brought his breathing under control. As he did so, the alien feelings began to subside. They did not disappear but Ral meed had them under control for now.

Ral meed stayed sitting on the floor, breathing slowly, until the guards came to the cell door. They rattled the bars and shouted, “Come on. Wake up elf! We are taking you to the arena. It’s your turn to fight.”

****

“You almost got us killed you stupid mule!” Anticus yelled.

“Relax, we’re alive. Ain’t we?” Ramsus responded back nonchalantly. Despite his wounds, which were being bandaged, the mul had a large grin on his face.

“Yeah, we are, but what about the other two. You got them killed!”

“Me?!” Ramsus was beginning to be annoyed by the bellowing dwarf. The two were back in the slave pits of the arena in a small cell, where they were having their wounds bound. The cell door was left open allowing the two to move about the slave pens if they wished. Instead the two were arguing over what had happened out on the gladiator pitch.

“I killed them? Maybe you do not realize this but we are all condemned to death.”

“Being a gladiator is not a death sentence. Gladiators can live for years in the arena,” Anticus responded back.

“Yeah, gladiators with masters that take care of them can survive for a while. Sure. But we are in the city’s gladiator pits. Most of the scum here are here because they broke one of the templar’s laws and were condemned to death. So they use us for cheap entertainment. We are just the warm-up for the day’s main events. That is why they throw a bunch of us into the arena to face the monsters. There is no attempt to match us with an equal opponent like in a normal gladiator match. No, we are expendable, thrown to the lirrs.”

“What about Xocoyotin? I heard he and his team have been here for over a year. How about that?”

“Yes, that is the only way to survive here. You have to join one of the gladiator gangs. The strong gangs have enough prestige to call some of the shots. They always fight as a team, and they do not have to fight every week. And when they do fight it is usually against an opponent they can beat. The rare lucky few gladiators may impress a patron who buys them out of the city’s pens to put them in their private pen, but you have to survive long enough to impress someone to do that. Only members of the established gangs do that.

Anyway, you cannot ask to join one of the gangs. You have to impress them, so that they ask you to join. That is what I was trying to do out there. Impress the gang leaders. Show them I would be someone good to have on their teams.”

Anticus exhaled loudly as he turned away.

“So that is the dream of a slave. That is what I have been reduced to. Well, I have to survive here. Have to, so that I can get my revenge on those who put me here,” he said under his breath.

Overhearing this Ramsus became angry.

“Go to hell, you condescending pile of dung! I don’t know what you were before you came here, but that doesn’t matter any more. You are one of us now! Your life is worth nothing! You are down in the mud with the rest of us!

These dreams, these goals! That is all we have! Whatever dreams you had before in your previous life, having lots of women, living in large mansions, owning lots of slaves to do you muck-carrying. Whatever you free people dream of! It’s gone! You got that through that thick head of yours? Huh? You…” Ramsus’s rant trailed off as he stopped to catch his breath. He was still very weak from the fight and his ranting had tired him out.

Anticus stared at the mul in shock. He had not meant to offend the gladiator but apparently he had. He started to apologize, but Ramsus just shrugged him off and began to leave. At the cell door, the mul stopped, and without turning he spoke.

“I’ll help you,” he said in a voice that was barely audible. “I’ll help you get your revenge.”

“Why?” Anticus asked in surprise.

For a while the mul was silent. Still he did not turn around as he spoke. “There does not seem to be a day that goes by that I do not question why I am here, bound in slavery. I yearn to find someone to blame. Someone I can say, hey, you are the reason my life is like this and I am going to kill ya for it. But there is no one person for me to blame. But you, you have someone to blame. You know who to direct all of your anger towards. That is good. It is comforting.

You can tell me more about him later, so that we can both hate him. Ok?” As he finished speaking, Ramsus looked back over his shoulder at the dwarf.

Anticus nodded gravely in response. With a short tilt of his head, Ramsus acknowledged Anticus’s acceptance, and then walked out of the cell.

****

Ral meed roamed the hallways of the slave pens after his appearance in the arena. On game days, the guards were too busy to make every gladiator return to his cell after each bout. Instead they let the gladiators have free reign of the pens while just keeping the two exits secured. The hallways were crowded with gladiators. Some were talking with fellow gladiators others were enjoying the freedom of moving about before their cells.

Ral meed wandered the hallways because he preferred them to his cell. The hall ceiling was much higher, giving him plenty of room to stand tall. The corridors were also wide enough that they did not feel as enclosing as the cell.

Ral meed’s first appearance in the arena had been a disaster. At least for the arena organizers it was. As soon as the giant lizards were released into the arena for Ral meed and the other three gladiators to fight, the elf had simply begun to run. The long legged elf easily outdistanced the giant lizards, leaving the other gladiators to fight them. The others had managed to kill one of the lizards, before the last of them were killed. Instead of trying to chase the fleet-footed elf, the lizard had been content to eat the remains of its kills. The crowd soon grew bored and booed. Some even began throwing things at the uncooperative elf, but Ral meed had ignored them all. Eventually another fight was arranged and Ral meed was thrust back into the slave pens.

As he roamed about, he was suddenly jostled when he bumped into someone.

“Hey watch it,” the man shouted. After seeing Ral meed, he turned to his companion, a short mul, “Hey it’s the frightened elf. From the arena. Remember?”

“Yeah, huh, huh” the mul responded dimly.

“You’re the one that runs away from the fight. Ha! What a coward,” the man said nudging his companion with his elbow. Seeing Ral meed’s burn-scarred face he added, “Hey that is quite a pretty face you got there,” and started to laugh.

The laughter had hardly escaped his mouth before Ral meed’s right fist smashed into the man’s cheek. Ral meed would be damned if he took such crap from this piece of filth.

Following up the blow, the elf moved in close towering of the man. Gripping the man’s shoulder with one hand and wrapping his other arm around the man’s neck, the man did not have any room to swing a punch. Ral meed brought his knee up and smashed into the man’s groin.

The man’s companion was stunned by the sudden attack, but the man’s scream of pain broke the mul into action. He grabbed and pulled the elf off of his friend. With Ral meed no longer there to hold him up, the man sank to the floor doubled up with pain.

The mul came at Ral meed swinging. The elf’s long reach gave him the first punch, but the mul just shrugged it off and moved in close. The mul backed Ral meed against the wall, trying to stay in close enough to hit the elf so as to reduce the advance of the elf’s longer reach. Ral meed adapted by bring his hands in close and swinging elbows at the mul, some missed and other struck the mul. The mul concentrated on punching Ral meed’s abdomen.

After trading a number of blows, the mul suddenly fell over backwards. Ral meed saw a dwarf standing holding a spear, with which he had just tripped the mul.

“Knock it off!” shouted the dwarf. “Save it for the beasts in the arena.”

The dwarf was massively muscled and looked like a short boulder as he stood in front of the tall thin elf. He apparently knew what he was talking about as his body was covered with freshly bandaged wounds.

The mul and his friend backed away from Anticus. Ral meed looked down on the dwarf and said in disgust, “I did not need your help.” With that the elf turned and walked away down the corridor.
#16

Band2

Jul 10, 2008 11:54:56 		Episode 13 – Night Brawl


Locale: Arena of Draj
Date: Sedulous 9, Desert’s Fury, 190th King’s Age (Free Year 11)

Anticus knelt alone in a cell. Eyelids shut, the dwarf relaxed in a meditative trance. It was late at night, and the slave pens were dark and relatively quiet. Ramsus had gone off somewhere, Anticus was not sure where. After the argument the day before the two had come to a grudging acceptance of each other. Since then they had spent most of their time together and now shared this cell.

But the guards were not concerned that the cell doors were all locked, and only guarded the exits from the slave pens. Thus Ramsus had been able to leave shortly after nightfall.

Since the battle Anticus had been able to use his inner psionic abilities to heal most of his and Ramsus’s wounds. Now he meditated to refresh his nexus. Despite the trance he was in, he was still conscious of his surroundings. When he heard movement outside the cell door his eyelids slowly opened.

He could just make out a whispered conversation in the corridor. He could see through the bars of his cell that two figures were standing just outside the opened door to another cell across the way.

‘That’s the cell of that ungrateful elf I helped yesterday,’ Anticus thought.

Suddenly, Anticus noticed in the dim light the white gleam of a bone knife in one of the figure’s hands. Looking closely Anticus thought he could make out that one of the dark shapes was a mul. Everything clicked into place. Those are the two the elf fought with yesterday. They were there for revenge. Apparently they thought a knife in the night was equal justice for the elf beating them the day before.

As the two figures entered the other cell, Anticus realized the injustice of it and it angered him. Without thinking he just reacted, yelling out, “Elf, there is danger! Wake up!”

Ral meed awoke instantly to the sound of shouting. Though still groggy he instantly saw the two figures at the entrance to his cell. They were turned away from him, and one of them tried to order the shouting dwarf across the hall to be quiet in a hushed tone. Ral meed climbed to his feet, and the movement brought the attackers attention back to him.

Anticus could see the elf struggling to his feet and thought, ‘The elf is probably unarmed. He does not stand a chance against these two. I better try and even the odds.’

The dwarf closed his eyes and entered the mindscape. There he fashioned a gleaming spear and sent it hurling towards the mul. The mul panicked when he saw the attack. His mind was no match for Anticus’s attack and the spear buried itself in the mul’s construct, breaking open his mind to the dwarf.

The man started towards Ral meed, but stopped when he saw his companion hesitate.

“Zoc, what is it?” he asked the panicked mul, but got no answer. The man’s delay allowed Ral meed to get to his feet. Seeing this, the man ignored his companion and charged at the elf, bringing his knife in low in an attempt to gut the elf.

Ral meed had just gotten to his feet as the man charged him. He tried to twist out of the way of the man’s strike, but was grazed by the knife. The cut was not deep at all, and did not slow down Ral meed.

He threw a pair of punches at the man but was hampered by the low ceiling of the cell and could not land a solid blow.

Anticus meanwhile, realizes he had his opponent at his mercy, prepared a massive strike. In the mindscape, Anticus dropped the ceiling onto the mul’s construct crushing it. Zoc’s body shuttered and fell against the bars of the cell with a muffled cry.

The man continued to slash at Ral meed, but the elf was too quick for him, darted from one side of the cell to another. Ral meed made up a quick strategy. He made as if he were moving to the right. As the man brought his arm with the dagger back for a back-handed swing at the elf, Ral meed darted quickly to the left. His right leg thrust out and slammed into the side of the man’s knee. The leg broke audibly, causing the man to scream in pain, though he did not drop his knife.

The man backed to one of the walls, and leaned against it to support himself, all the while slashing wildly with his knife to keep Ral meed at bay. Ral meed calmly watched him from the other side of the cell.

With his right side pressed against the wall for support, the man switched the dagger to his left hand and held it out menacingly towards Ral meed.

“Stay back. Stay back, you filthy elf!” the man shouted, as slowly with arms held wide apart, Ral meed began to approach. Just out of range of the man’s dagger, Ral meed suddenly stopped, and swung his hands inward. Together they smacked into the man’s hand, the left striking the wrist, and the right striking the back of the hand. The blows sent the knife flying from the man’s hand. An anguished cry escaped the man’s lips, but it was cut off as Ral meed moving forward spun around and slammed an elbow into the man’s head. The blow knocked the man to the floor.

Ral meed turned to find Zoc the mul sitting on the floor leaning against the bars, staring off into space, while drool dripped freely from his opened mouth.

Crossing the cell, Ral meed picked up both fallen daggers, then returned and knelt on one knee over the man.

“What is your name?” Ral meed asked softly, but the man was in too much pain and did not answer.

“I said, what is your name, scum?” Ral meed repeated louder and began to slap the man until he answered.

“Cholu, Cholu! Damn you!” the man managed to say through teeth gritted in pain.

“Well, Cholu, I believe this is yours,” Ral meed said and held up the man’s knife. Weakly the man held up a hand to ward off a blow.

“You can have it back,” Ral meed said in a steady voice, and gripped the man’s outstretched arm. Then without another word he buried the knife into the man’s hand. The man screamed in pain.

The noise of the fight had awakened most of the slave pens by now, and a small crowd was gathering outside of the cell. Ral meed turned away from the downed man and walked out of the cell, while putting Zoc’s dagger into his belt.

As he left the cell Ral meed noticed Anticus watching from the other cell and paused, but only for a second, before turning away and walking down the corridor.
#17

Band2

Jul 15, 2008 14:01:03 		Episode 14 – The Grand Melee


Locale: Arena of Draj
Date: Sedulous 11, Desert’s Fury, 190th King’s Age (Free Year 11)

“What the hell is this?!” Ral meed asked of the guards raising his right hand. Tied securely to the hand was a thick rope made of giant’s hair. The rope was about 10 feet long, and the other end of the rope was tied to the left hand of the dwarf Anticus.

“This time you’ll fight in the arena, instead of prancing around it,” the guard captain responded and laughed.

“How do you expect me to fight tethered to this rock?” Ral meed shouted after the guard, who had turned and left the room with his men, closing and locking the door behind them.

Ral meed gripped the rope and tried to snap it in two with his strength. After straining for a few moments, it became obvious that he did not have the strength to break it. Looking at the thickly built dwarf, Ral meed thought he may have the strength to break it, but the elf would be damned before he asked the dwarf for any help.

“I am going to cut your hand off as soon as we get weapons. I am sure you can survive the fight with just one hand. Damn it. I hate being tied to this rock!” Ral meed ranted.

Calmly, Anticus started gathering the rope in his hands. When he had most of the length of the rope, he yanked the rope so that it pulled the ranting Ral meed over towards him.

“Shut up and listen!” Anticus spat into the elf’s face.

“Why should I, half-pint?” Ral meed interrupted.

Anticus yanked down on the rope again pulling Ral meed’s face closer.

“I said, shut up. I can break this rope,” the dwarf said. Before he could continue Ral meed broke in.

“Then do it. Now!”

“Not yet. You know, I liked you better when you were sullen and silent,” Anticus said.

“Listen, we wait. When we get out there our opponents are going to think we are tied together. They will think that you are restrained and cannot move very far from me. We can use that to fool them. When I give you a signal you charge them. I’ll break the rope then and your charge will catch them by surprise. Got it?”

Ral meed stared at the dwarf. ‘He is quick. He has a tactical mind. Maybe I have underestimated him.’ Then he asked, “How can you break the rope?”

“I am trained as a psionicist. One of my talents will break the rope,” Anticus responded.

“Ok,” Ral meed acknowledged after a moment’s pause. “So what is going to be our signal,” he said and squatted down near the dwarf.

****

Ramsus looked around anxiously for Anticus but could not see the dwarf in the crowded corridor. He was standing in a line of gladiators in a corridor that led into the arena.

The two had agreed to fight together as partners in the arena. But this morning some guards had summoned Anticus and he had not returned yet. Ramsus tightened his grip on his weapon.

‘Something is different today,’ he thought. ‘This is much later then normal to start the matches. Normally they would have had the first match almost an hour ago.’

Soon thereafter the guards began shouting at the lined up gladiators to enter the arena. Not knowing what to expect, Ramsus hefted his weapon and followed the man in front of him into the arena.

As they came into the arena, the crowd cheered. Squinting his eyes against the harsh rays of the sun, Ramsus scanned the arena for their opponent, but saw none.

Perplexed Ramsus and the fourteen other gladiators milled around the entrance. The guards began directing them to form a large circle in the arena’s center as other gladiators were led in. A large half-giant joined the growing circle. Ramsus saw Anticus enter the arena tied to an elf by a long rope. Lastly, two gith were forced into the circle by a group of guards. The gladiators now formed a rough circle, waiting, while the guards rushed out of the arena.

Ramsus scanned the other gladiators, and gave a short nod in Anticus’s direction. While staring at the others he was trying to figure out what was going to happen next when Tlaxcala took his place on the balcony. Today he was dressed in his full templar garb, complete with the full feathered headdress.

“Welcome citizens of Draj. Today we have a special treat for you. King Atzetuk has decreed that the slave pens have become overcrowded and thus need to be thinned out. He has ordered a grand melee to determine the strongest of the slaves, for only the strongest should survive.”

As Tlaxcala finished speaking the crowd erupted in applause. Once the applause had died down, he continued speaking down towards the group of gladiators.

“The rules are simple. There are now twenty of you in the arena. When I strike this gong, you will begin to fight to the death. The last four standing will be allowed to leave the arena. The others will die.” Tlaxcala paused a few moments for dramatic effect and then rang the gong.

Ramsus acted instantly, swinging his quabone at the gladiator to his right. The quabone smashed into the man’s face before he could react and sent him tumbling over backwards. Turning quickly around Ramsus faced the gladiator to his left.

The two closest on the mul’s left had backed away and agreed to help each other. With that agreed, they advanced on the mul as their first opponent, with one edging towards the right and the other to the left. Both were human, thought the one on the left had shaved his head into a mohawk. The man on the right was bare-chested but wore a helmet made from some giant insect. He carried a small wooden shield and a wicked looking club with obsidian spikes. The other man was armed with a sword carved from the long leg bone of a mekillot.

Ramsus, with his quabone in his right hand, spread his arms wide and kept his gaze on the man on his left, as the two took up positions on either side of him. Just before the two reached spots directly across from each other, Ramsus turned on the man to his right and attacked, slicing downward. He missed as the man blocked the blow, and turned quickly. The helmeted man had charged and swung low at Ramsus’s leg. His quick reaction allowed Ramsus to block the blow, and he used his weapon to shove the man backwards.

Before he could turn on the first man, however, the mohawked man struck at Ramsus’s back. The bone blade sliced into his skin as he was turning. Though it drew blood, which caused the crowd to cheer, the wound was not more than a scratch.

Ramsus attacked swinging towards the man’s mid section. Their weapons clashed together and again when the man swung high and a third time when Ramsus swung low. Despite missing Ramsus had driven his opponent back, away from his ally. When their weapons locked the third time, Ramsus followed by punching the man with his left hand. The blow caught the man by surprise and he staggered back slightly.

Ramsus could hear the helmeted man running toward him from behind. Spinning, Ramsus dodged to his left and out of the way of the running man’s swing which came closer to hitting his ally than the mul. Ramsus’s counter blow slammed into the man’s ribs and knocked him into his ally, sending both tumbling to the ground.

Ramsus, playing to the crowd, threw up his hands and shook his head as if he were dealing with fools. The crowd loved it and cheered the mul on, while his two opponents climbed to their feet.

Again they tried to encircle Ramsus, but this time he would not let them. By staying on the move, he kept the helmeted man in front of him and whichever direction the other man went in Ramsus would go the opposite, thus keeping the helmeted man between him and the mohawked man. The opponents circled trying to gain an advantage until the man in the helmet decided to charge.

Ramsus blocked the man’s first strike, which was high, and the second swing which came in low. When their weapon’s meet the second time, Ramsus noticed his weapon was above the man’s right foot. Quickly, he thrust his quabone downward smashing into the man’s foot. The blow was not much, but it distracted the man allowing Ramsus to follow up with a two-handed smash that broke the man’s right arm.

Screaming the helmeted man dropped his weapon and fell to his knees, as Ramsus dodged aside to avoid the other man who slashed at him. Ramsus and the mohawk swung and blocked each other’s weapon a few times. As they continued to exchange blows, the helmeted man started to recover. He could not wield his club in his right hand so he dropped his shield and reached for the club with his left hand.

Ramsus noticed the movement out of the corner of his eye. Feinted a strike at the man in front of him, he charged the helmeted man who tried to get to his feet. Ramsus brought his quabone down hard with two hands on the man’s head. The blow was massive, cracked the chitin helmet, and dropped the man instantly to the ground. Unfortunately, Ramsus’s quabone snapped. He was left with a one foot piece of the club with another section hanging on by a sliver of wood.

Ramsus threw the useless weapon at the man with the mohawk and backed away. The man pressed his advantage swinging and slashing at the unarmed mul. After a few strikes he managed to make some slight cuts on Ramsus’s arms but nothing major. Confident he smiled as he lifted his sword over his head with both hands and stepped forward.

Ramsus had been looking for some sort of opening. As soon as the sword’s tip rose higher than his head he rushed forward, grabbing the man’s arms near the elbow. The man was taken by surprise. His arms were still moving backwards and had not built any downward movement yet, and thus did not have enough force to break Ramsus’s grasp and bring the weapon down on the mul’s head.

Ramsus slammed his knee into the man’s groin, and then pushed the man over backwards. As the man fell over, his sword fell from his hand, and was quickly scooped up by Ramsus. The crowd applauded his maneuver and Ramsus again turned his attention to wave to the crowd. When he turned back the man with the mohawk was on his feet. Unarmed the man was fleeing away from the mul. Before Ramsus could pursue him another danger came rushing towards him. The half-giant was running directly at him from the other side of the arena.

*****

Alrin-Ga could only dimly understand the elaborately dressed templar’s speech, since it was in Drajan. When the battle started up around him, Alrin-Ga simply gazed around the area. Other than moving his head, he was still, unmoving. A rock.

At his side, he held a huge club in one hand. None of the gladiators around him wanted to face a half-giant and so left him alone to find battle elsewhere. This allowed him to simply watch the fight for a few minutes. His attention was quickly drawn to a mul that was battling two opponents at once. His eyes had flashed slightly in amazement when the mul had dodged aside and then sent the two man crashing into each other.

He whispered, “wow,” when the mul had broken his weapon on a swing. But then when he realized the mul’s predicament, he, child-like, raised a massive hand to cover his mouth and said, “Ow.” Later, when the unarmed mul had bested the man, pride and admiration filled Alrin-Ga. Suddenly, he was filled with movement, and a desire to rush over and meet this admirable fighter. The rock that had hardly movement for two weeks began to rumble.

Alrin-Ga stopped a dozen feet from Ramsus and said in awe, “You are amazing.”

Ramsus, fear and apprehension mounting in him as he faced the half-giant, could not understand the half-giant who had spoken in the Raamish dialect.

“How did you do that? Can you show me?” Alrin-Ga asked. This time Ramsus caught part of what the half-giant said and began to realize the half-giant did not mean to attack. At least, not yet.

“Well, ah, it just takes some practice. You see, you have to catch his arms, um while they are still going back.” Ramsus replied.

“While they are still going back,” Alrin-Ga repeated the words to make sure he had understood the mul. “I see. What if we.. hey! Ouch!”

A band of three gladiators had decided to attack the distracted half-giant. As Ramsus rushed forward to handle one of the attackers, Alrin-Ga looked down on the other two. The one who had struck him was a large mul who wielded an obsidian-headed spear, while the other was a smaller man armed with an obsidian battle axe. Pointing his club at the axe wielding man, Alrin-Ga demanded, “Come on, now. Attack me with an overhand chop.”

Apparently, the man did not want to listen to the half-giant, and swung the axe horizontally at him, but the axe glanced off the thick leather jerkin Alrin-Ga wore. Meanwhile the other snuck in close on the half-giant’s left and stabbed him again with the spear.

Alrin-Ga turned on the spear wielder and said, “Go away, I cannot practice the move with you,” and he waved his left hand as if shooing the man away.

This mul did not listen to the half-giant either and stabbed at him again. Perturbed at this distraction to his training, Alrin-Ga shouted, “I said, go away!” He backed up his shout with his club. The blow caught the mul full in the chest and sent him flying through the air to collapse in a heap on the arena floor.

Satisfied that the distraction was taken care of, the half-giant turned back to the other opponent, just as the man sliced the axe into his leg.

Alrin-Ga cried out in pain and then called to the man, “No, no, no. Go over-handed. Like this.” The half-giant imitated the manner in which he wanted his opponent to attack. But again the man proved stubborn and made a horizontal slash at the half-giant and missed.

“Hey,” Alrin-Ga exclaimed, “That is not it. You better listen to me!” For emphasis, Alrin-Ga shook his club at the man. Still the man seemed not to care and slashed along the half-giant’s arm.

“Alright, that’s it,” Alrin-Ga said and swung his club down on the man. He tried to just give the man a gentle rap, but the blow crushed the man’s left shoulder. The wounded man cried out and staggered backwards.

Alrin-Ga followed after the man and bent forward so that his face was on the same level as the man’s. “Now this time do it right, ok?” he asked forcefully.

The man, fear and pain showing clearly in his eyes, simply nodded. After waiting for the man to catch his breath, the two faced off again. This time the man complied with Alrin-Ga’s request and gingerly raised the axe over his head.

Contentment filled Alrin-Ga as he was finally in a position to copy Ramsus’s feat. But he suddenly realized that he was not unarmed. He still held the club in his right hand, and so could not grab both of the man’s arms, so he improvised. The half-giant flung out his left hand. Instead of catching the man’s arms, the massive hand slapped into the man’s head enveloping it. The blow snapped the man’s head back and knocked him unconscious to the floor.

The half-giant moved to stand over the fallen man and looked down at him. A huge grin spread across his face. “Look what I did,” he said to no one in particular.

Alrin-Ga saw Ramsus a dozen yards away finishing off his opponent and rushed over towards him.

“I did it! I did it,” said the half-giant looking eagerly down on the mul.

Ramsus whirled around startled, but lowered his weapon when he saw it was the half-giant.

“What?” he asked not having understood the half-giant.

“I did it. Just like you taught me,” was the reply.

“Oh yeah. That’s, um, ah, great. Say, what’s your name?”

“What is your name?” Ramsus said again when the half-giant did not understand the first time.

“Oh, my name is Alrin-Ga,” he responded when he understood.

“Well, Alrin-Ga,” Ramsus said the name slowly to make sure he got it right, “do you want to give me a hand with those two gith over there.” Ramsus pointed to where the two gith gladiators stood over the bodies of four gladiators they had killed.

“Okay,” the half-giant responded affably, and the two rushed to engage the gith.
#18

Band2

Jul 28, 2008 12:23:23 		Episode 15 – The Grand Melee part 2



Locale: Arena of Draj
Date: Sedulous 11, Desert’s Fury, 190th King’s Age (Free Year 11)

As soon as the gong was rung, Anticus and Ral meed backed away from the center of the arena, to wait for someone to approach them. Ral meed began to play his part, tugging on the rope, and showing his frustration at the dwarf’s slowness. Anticus, surprised by the elf’s strength, was almost pulled off his feet when the elf tugged the rope, but he just managed to right himself before falling and gave the elf a frustrated look.

It did not take long before some of the gladiators approached them. Two of the gladiators, a man and a woman, had decided to team up and they chose the elf and dwarf as their first targets. Another gladiator, alone, began to creep up on one side, waiting to see what would happen and looking for an opening he could exploit.

The gladiator team approached to within a dozen yards of the dwarf and elf and stopped. They seemed to have made a snide comment about the two, but it was lost in the roar of the crowd.

Ral meed studied the two as they laughed at the unheard jest. The woman wore a leather breast plate that was cut to reveal her shapely figure. While it would not provide her much protection in front, it did protect her side and back. Around her neck she wore a spiked collar, while in her hands she held a trikal, which she twirled effortlessly.

The man wore a spiked gauntlet or talid on one hand and held a wrist razor in the other. His arms were covered in thick leather armor but his legs and mid-rift were bare. The man had a large stylized tattoo covering most of the right side of his face. The bright red tattoo started at his hair line and went on down the side of his neck to cover his right shoulder.

When the two took another step closer, Anticus gave the agreed upon signal and Ral meed took off running directly at the pair. Both gladiators stopped, content that they were out of reach from the charging elf. As Ral meed sprinted the short distance of the rope, Anticus tapped his nexus and began to focus the energy on the rope. He was too slow.

When Ral meed reached the end of the rope, he was suddenly jerked back. At the same time, Anticus was pulled off his feet and fell forward on the ground. The two gladiators laughed and moved to attack the fallen elf, but Ral meed scrambled quickly to his feet and ran back to stand behind Anticus.

“I thought you said it would work!” the elf yelled over the laughter from the crowd.

Anticus picked himself off the ground and spat dust from his mouth.

“It’ll work this time. Just give me a moment,” Anticus growled. The two gladiators seemed to ignore the dwarf as they advanced. They moved to circle the dwarf to get at the elf behind him, with one going around the left and the other the right.

“Go, now!” Anticus ordered and quickly tapped his nexus and directed the power out into the rope. This time he acted quickly enough, and the rope shattered. Ral meed charged at the male gladiator, catching the man by surprise. The bone blade of Ral meed’s sword sliced into the man’s stomach. The man tried a half strength swing of his wrist razor at the elf but missed before stumbling to the side.

The man’s female partner came charging to his aid screaming a battle cry. When Ral meed ran off, the woman did not pursue but stopped to check on the wounded man.

Anticus dusted himself off and watched as the woman chased Ral meed off. He was about to go to the elf’s aid when the third gladiator, who had been sulking nearby, charged him from his blind side. Anticus heard the man’s approach at the last second and turned to meet the man’s charge.

The man swung an axe made from obsidian that Anticus just managed to block with his spear. The man reacted quickly, and pulled the axe back and quickly swung again from the opposite side. Anticus gave ground as he tried to fend off the man’s frenzied attack.

Ral meed had circled back around behind the female gladiator and charged at her back. The woman heard him before he could reach her and she turned spinning the trikal in the air over her head and bringing it down towards the elf. Ral meed just barely managed to dodge aside from the blow. He made a half-hearted attack at the woman before retreating to a safe distance. The woman did not follow, instead staying close to her wounded compatriot.

Looking for an advantage, Ral meed gathered up the length of the giant-hair rope that was still connected to his left wrist. There was more than five feet of the rope left and Ral meed decided he could use it as a whip. Though the whip was a little awkward to use, Ral meed was used to fighting with a weapon in his left hand and his right at the same time.

Moving in range, Ral meed tried to wrap the rope around the woman’s long weapon so that he could disarm her. He gave up when he realized that it would not work. Next he tried snapping the whip to distract her so that he could get close enough to attack with his sword. This worked and Ral meed was able to cut the woman’s right arm, before he retreated again, desperately dodging the woman’s spinning trikal.

As Anticus continued to back away, his opponent managed to score a couple of nicks along the dwarf’s arms, but nothing serious. All of the dwarf’s attacks had missed as he spent more time concentrating on defense.

The man feinted low and then brought his axe up high at the dwarf’s head. Anticus just barely managed to dodge to the side. The axe missed his head but scraped along his right shoulder, leaving pieces of obsidian embedded there.

After dealing with the initial pain, Anticus decided he had retreated far enough, and went on the attack. He thrust his spear at the man’s face again and again. The man was able to fend off the attacks, but because he was worried by the spear head always coming at his face, he could no longer attack the dwarf as effectively as he had done.

After missing the third time, Anticus thrust out with his spear again, but this time did it slowly on purpose. When the man block the spear with his axe, Anticus allowed the spear to be knocked downward, and then thrust it forward into the man’s left leg. The wound was shallow, but Anticus pressed forward seeking to drive the spear in deeper. The man slammed his axe into the dwarf’s side, but the determined Anticus ignored the blow and drove the spear deeper into the man’s leg. The man screamed in pain, as the spear point burst through the other side of his leg. Anticus used the spear to pull the man off his feet and send him to the ground.

When the man fell, he dropped his axe. Anticus bent to pick it up. Cursing and screaming, the man clawed and grabbled with Anticus for the axe, but the dwarf proved stronger and grapping the axe, backed away from the wounded man. From a safe distance Anticus waited to see if the man could stand. The man writhed in pain in the dirt screaming and spitting out insults at the dwarf. The man tried to pull the spear from his leg, but the pain proved too much from him and he collapsed.

Ral meed came back around again, using the rope as a whip. The rope stung the woman, causing a small red mark on her face, but she ignored it. Ral meed closed in to attack but missed as the woman blocked his attack. As Ral meed tried to continue past her to his left, she swung the trikal around and stepped in that direction forcing him back. Dexterously dodging back, Ral meed instead cut to the right, unknowingly running between the woman and her partner.

The man, who seemed almost too seriously wounded to stand, suddenly lashed out at the elf, smashing his spiked gauntlet into the elf’s chest. The blow caught Ral meed off guard and off-balance. Ral meed struggled to retain his balance and dodged the man’s follow-up strike with the wrist razor.

As the man tried to press the attack, Ral meed lashed out low with his sword opening a large cut in the man’s leg. Unaware, the woman charged Ral meed from behind. Anticus shouted a warning, but Ral meed could not react fast enough and the woman smashed her trikal into the elf’s side. Ral meed was knocked aside, stumbled but managed to stay on his feet.

The woman continued to press the attack, while her partner held back because of his wounds. Anticus was a few dozen feet away from the fight, but instead of rushing to Ral meed’s aid, he turned inward to his nexus. He tried to focus his inner energy on the woman’s weapon. With his mind Anticus could move things, and he sought to pull the weapon from the lady’s grasp.

His first attempt failed, as the woman continued to press Ral meed who looked more desperate as he perceived the dwarf was not coming to his aid. Anticus’s second attempt succeed and the trikal was pulled from the woman’s grasp and floated through the air to come to rest in Anticus’s outstretched hand.

Both Ral meed and the woman were caught by complete surprise. Ral meed reacted first, slicing his sword down and hitting the woman’s shoulder. The woman panicked and ran, but the fleet-footed elf pursued her. Ral meed easily kept pace with the fleeing woman as he cut and hacked at her. After a number of blows the woman finally collapsed.

Ral meed, still running, circled back towards the dwarf. As Ral meed had pursued the woman, her companion had weakly tried to attack Anticus. The dwarf had easily bested him, and the man’s body now lay at his feet as Ral meed approached.

“I thought you were not going to help,” Ral meed said, breathing heavily from his exertion.

“But I did,” Anticus shot back, as he examined the wound in his shoulder.

“That you did,” Ral meed said and smiled widely.

‘He passed the first test,’ Ral meed thought to himself. ‘Maybe I can give him my trust. What am I thinking, trusting this snail? Well, it is too early to tell.’

At this point, Ramsus and the half-giant Alrin-Ga came jogging up to the pair.

“Come on and help us. What are you waiting around for? There are still a few other gladiators left. Come on,” Ramsus shouted good-naturedly.

*****

As Ramsus and the others finished off their remaining opponents, a lounging figure shifted on a cushioned bench on a small balcony overlooking the battle. Outstretching one arm, a feminine hand slipped from a thin robe and beckoned to a waiting attendant.

“Lloque, come here,” a silken voiced commanded. The servant stepped forward to stand near his mistress, as below the victorious gladiators bowed and waved to the cheering crowd.

“That one there,” the silken voice said pointing down at Ramsus in the arena below.

“The mul?” Lloque asked.

“I want to meet him. Arrange it, immediately,” she ordered.

“And, Lloque,” she continued as the servant turned to carry out her orders.

“Yes, mistress?”

“Lloque, prepare a token of my ...” she paused, “my admiration.”

“Yes, mistress, I will make the arrangements,” Lloque replied with a small bow before exiting.
#19

Band2

Sep 02, 2008 13:58:05 		Episode 16 – An Offer



Locale: Arena of Draj
Date: Sedulous 11, Desert’s Fury, 190th King’s Age (Free Year 11)

Alrin-Ga sat cross-legged on the floor of a large cell and watched his new found comrades as they celebrated their victory in the arena. The three enthusiastically recalled moments throughout the battle, reliving the excitement and glorying in the victory. Alrin-Ga had trouble following the conversation in the Draji dialect and so he sat quietly and observed his new companions.

First his eyes fell on the mul who called himself Ramsus. ‘He should be called the Avalanche. He is built like a small mountain. Tough. Strong. But he is not motionless. When he moves, he is fast. None of his opponents could stand in his way. The combination of strength and quickness was overwhelming. That is desirable... no, admirable.’

Next, the half-giant’s gaze moved on to the dwarf, Anticus. ‘His is a boulder. He’s short, but has massive strength. He is almost round. When he fought in the arena, he rarely moved, but was almost anchored in place. Immovable. Strange, his skin is coarse and rough, and he has no hair, like the Avalanche.’ As he pondered this, Alrin-Ga rolled one of the dreadlocks of his hair between his index finger and thumb.

Finally Alrin-Ga looked towards Ral meed, the elf. ‘Eh, him. He is not of the earth. Look at him. His is so thin and fragile. So flighty. He runs around in circles during the fights. When he talks his arms are in constant motion, darting through the air in front of him. No, he is not of the earth. He is too much of the air in him.’ Alrin-Ga looked away.

The companions’ revelry was interrupted when the cell door was opened. A guard stood in the door way and pointed at Ramsus.

“You, slave. You have been summoned. Come with us.”

The exuberant mood evaporated and tension filled the room, as the guard waited to be obeyed. Alrin-Ga cast a disapproving look at the guard for disrupting the victory celebration. Anticus turned to face the guards, staring hard at them. He placed himself between Ramsus and the door and planting his feet in case there was trouble.

Ramsus sensed the menace in the room and his new found friends’ protectiveness, but he also knew the situation could turn dangerous at any second. He did not want his friends to face another battle so soon after the fight in the arena. So he shrugged his shoulders and smiled slightly, defusing the tension in the room. He clapped Anticus on the back and said, “I’ll be right back,” and then headed for the door.

The other three watched him go, relaxing muscles that had tensed. The tension was gone but that did not bring the happy mood back. As the door closed, the three remained silent, waiting to see if and when Ramsus would return.

*****

The guards led Ramsus out the slave gate and back around to the palace entrance to the arena. He past through a confusing maze of passageways before they stopped in a small waiting room, where the servant Lloque waited. The guard captain stepped towards the man and said, “He is the one requested.”

“Good, good, good.” Lloque replied. “You did well. You and your men wait here.” Lloque walked up to Ramsus, stopping when he was only inches away. He was a short man, and he had to crane his neck up to look Ramsus in the face. Even thought the mul towered more than half a foot taller then him, Lloque did not seem intimidated and spoke while staring directly it Ramsus’s eyes.

“Mistress Sinchi wishes to … to speak with you, slave. While in her presence you will speak only when spoken to. Also if you happen to get any violent ideas while in her presence, do not act on them. If you do, I’ll know before you can even move, and these guards will be waiting just outside. Do you understand me?”

Ramsus glanced around at his escort, six armed guards plus their captain.

“Yes,” Ramsus said as he turned back to face the short Lloque. “I understand.”

“Good, then follow me.”

Lloque lead Ramsus into the next room. The room was larger than the waiting room next door. Lloque led Ramsus to the center of the room, and then retreated behind him. Ramsus scanned the room for danger, and his eyes quickly rested on the room’s sole occupant. A woman lounged on a large cushioned bench. Next to the bench on a small table rested a templar’s enormous feathered headdress, but Ramsus hardly noticed it. The woman on the bench wore a long thin robe with an ornate pattern. The robe was long enough to reach her angles, but had a slit down one side revealing one long smooth leg. Ramsus stared at it captivated.

The woman, with a slight smile, stood up and began to circle the mul. Her pose was erect and confident, though she only stood about five and a half feet tall, making her almost a foot shorter than Ramsus. She had a slight build, and long black hair that matched her reddish brown skin. She was in her mid-thirties but her skin was still blemishless.

As she came back around in front of Ramsus, she stopped and spoke.

“Hmm. Impressive.”

“What is your name, slave?” she asked, and Ramsus had to take a second to find his tongue before answering.

“Ramsus… my name is Ramsus.”

“Ramsus. Mmm. Ramsus,” the woman said as if savoring the name.

She stepped forward so that she was close to Ramsus and stood up on her toes. When she did so she still did not come up to Ramsus’s chin. Slowly she ran her finger cross the top of Ramsus’s massive chest. After the battle in the arena, Anticus has used his psionic ability to heal Ramsus’s wounds, but Ramsus had not had a chance to clean up and his chest was still stained with the blood of his enemies. Thus some of the blood had collected on the woman’s finger when it reached the far side of his chest. The woman stepped back and brought the finger up close to her mouth. With her eyes locked on Ramsus’s eyes, her tiny tongue darted out and licked the blood off her finger. When next she smiled, Ramsus shuttered involuntarily.

“I am Mistress Nian Sinchi,” the woman said placing her hands on her hips.

“Mistress… I am your servant,” Ramsus sputtered, and looked away.

Nian gave a small laugh.

“My servant? Well, that is good. And how would you serve me?” she asked, crossing her arms.

“I uh….how, uh, you wish,” Ramsus replied.

Nian stared up at the mul, her face neutral, studying the mul. The silence in the room seemed to go on interminably to Ramsus. Finally Nian spoke as she uncrossed her arms and moved to walk past Ramsus.

“There is something that I would like you to do,” she said and stopped when she was at Ramsus’s left side, their shoulders almost touching.

“What is it?” Ramsus asked.

Nian reached out with another finger and drew it slowly down Ramsus’s arm, and began to speak.

“I want you to do what you do best.” After a moment’s pause she continued, “Kill.”

“What? Kill? Who?” was all Ramsus could manage to say.

“You see,” Nian began as she turned her back on Ramsus and walked across the room, “there is a rival of mine who has made himself into quite a nuisance. I wish you to kill him for me,” she said and looked back over her shoulder at the gladiator.

“His name is templar Atemoztli. He is an old man. He should not be hard for you to kill, though he does have two bodyguards with him at all times who may be more difficult for you to overcome.”

“You want me to murder him? Another templar?” Ramsus asked shocked.

“Yes, and I want you and your fighting team to do it three nights from now. I will arrange for you to be brought out of the slave pits to an area near his apartment,” Nian said. She was now standing behind the small table where her headdress rested and fidgeted with one of the longer feathers.

“Three nights from now? But that is the night before Fight Day. We would not be ready to fight in the arena the next day.”

“If you are successful, I will make arrangements for you and your team not to have to fight that day. Do not worry,” Nian said and held up one finger and waved it at him.

“I will look out for you.”

“But, no. I won’t do it. I am not a murderer!” Ramsus said nonplus.

Nian gave a small laugh and clapped her hands together as she approached Ramsus again.

“My dear, dear Ramsus. Remember you are my servant,” she said imitating him.

“It is not like you have a choice,” she said leaning forward and squeezing his arm. Ramsus was confused. His brain seemed not to be working as he tried to figure a way out of this.

Nian turned away from Ramsus and walked to a door on the far wall. As she did so she said, “I will send someone to you after the evening meal three nights from now. He will arrange for you to have weapons and bring you to a place where you can launch your attack.”

She reached the door, opened it, and beckoned to someone on the other side. A pudgy, dark-skinned woman dressed in the skiff of a slave entered. Nian draped an arm across the woman’s shoulder and walked with her towards Ramsus.

“I want you to know that I admire your fighting skill very much. As such, here is a token of my admiration. This is Nkobi. She is very skilled at what she does, and thus very valuable to me. So please, don’t be so brutish as to force yourself on her,” Nian said. Then she order, “Lloque, show them out.”

Instantly, Lloque opened the door and ordered the guards to escort Ramsus and Nkobi out. As he was leaving Ramsus looked over at Nian and began to say, “I can’t…” but Nian cut him off saying, “Remember, you are my servant.”
#20

Band2

Sep 04, 2008 12:27:24 		Episode 17 – Decisions are made



Locale: Arena of Draj
Date: Sedulous 11, Desert’s Fury, 190th King’s Age (Free Year 11)

The cell was silent, as it had mostly been since Ramsus had left. The three remaining gladiators had no idea what may have happened to him. Anticus sat with his back against one of the walls and looked at the other two occupants.

The half-giant sat by himself on the far side of the cell. Anticus had tried to talk to him a few times but the half-giant had trouble understanding Drajan. Only if he spoke slowly and repeated himself a lot was Anticus able to communicate with him. He had learned that Alrin-Ga was from Raam and that he had gotten into some trouble there, but that was it. Eventually he gave up trying.

He looked over at Ral meed who sat closer to him. He noticed the elf was trying to re-bandage the injury to his side.

“Here, let me tend to that wound,” Anticus said as he slowly got to his feet. The dwarf tried to connect with his nexus to power his healing ability, but he was too distracted worrying about Ramsus’s fate and he failed. After a couple of unsuccessful attempts, his inner reserves exhausted, Anticus gave up.

“I’ll have to try again tomorrow,” Anticus said in a worn-out voice.

“Seems, you are good for nothing,” Ral meed commented, but his tone was more jocular and no longer biting. Then the elf noticed the half-giant staring at him intently.

“What do you want?” he challenged.

“The earth can heal you. Alrin-Ga is of the earth.” The half-giant responded.

“What? What does that mean? What the hell are you talking about?” Ral meed said, thinking he did not understand the half-giant’s dialect.

“I show you,” Alrin-Ga responded and came over to the elf. Sitting down, he examined the bandages, and very gingerly, especially for such a big creature, pealed off the used bandages. Alrin-Ga picked up some loose dirt on the floor and rubbed it over his large right hand. As he began a repetitive chant, Alrin-Ga placed his right hand over the wound.

At first the touch stung, but quickly Ral meed began to feel a tightening in his side. When Alrin-Ga had removed his hand, the wound was almost gone, leaving only a small scab where before a large cut had been. The rest of the skin appeared unmarked, as if it had never been scratched.

A wide grin spread across Alrin-Ga’s face as he looked down on his work. Ral meed was momentarily speechless before mumbling his thanks.

“You’re a cleric,” Anticus exclaimed.

Alrin-Ga nodded. “I can help with these scars, too,” the half-giant said and gently reached out a hand to touch the side of Ral meed’s face. But Ral meed batted the hand away. The scars brought back bad memories.

“Get away from me, you pile of *****’s dung,” Ral meed ranted and stood up and walked to the far side of the holding cell. Shocked at the outburst, Alrin-Ga just watched him go.

*****

Ramsus was in excruciating pain.

‘This is torture! Agony!’ Ramsus’s mind screamed. He was stretch out face down on a padded table, naked except for a towel. The Gulgan slave, Nkobi leaned over him.

‘I cannot see how anyone can get any pleasure out of this. This is shear misery!’ Ramsus thought as he gritted his teeth to stop a scream from escaping his lips.

‘But I’ll be damned if I’ll show this sadistic witch any weakness, no matter what torture she tries.’

The massage had begun like the few rub downs Ramsus had received before at his old master’s gladiator pen. Nkobi had rubbed oil onto his back and used a deep rubbing motion to relax his muscles. The effect had been soothing. But then she began probing his back with her short strong figures. As she pressed along his shoulder blades, lances of pain shot through Ramsus’s back. He had never felt such sharp pain.

Nkobi smiled to her self.

‘Foolish mul. Too proud to cry out if it hurts,’ she thought. Each time she pressed down, she could feel the mul’s whole body tense with pain.

‘He has never had a proper massage before, and does not know to relax. He tenses up, trying to prevent himself from crying out. Well, we’ll see,’ Nkobi found a particularly sensitive spot and pressed hard. A muffled grunt escaped from the mul. Ramsus tried to pass it off as a cough, but Nkobi only smiled wider to herself.

The massage continued, as Nkobi moved on from his back to his arms. Later, Nkobi almost laughed out loud when she began to massage Ramsus’s behind, for the mul’s entire bald head turned bright red.

‘Easy. Remember it would be very impolite to laugh at him. If I upset him too much, the mistress may become anger with me.’ Nkobi thought as she tried to stop the laughter from spilling out.

Ramsus was trying to control his breathing, and thinking to himself, ‘Come on. You can get through this. You can do it.’

When Nkobi finished up massaging his feet, Ramsus breathed a sigh of relief that the ordeal was over. His relief quickly fled when he heard Nkobi say, in her thickly accented Drajan, “Now, on yo’r back.”

Later, when the massage was finally over, Ramsus could not believe how relaxed he felt. While he would normally be very sore after a fight in the arena, he was not. His entire body felt soothed of all the aches and pains that normally troubled him.

He turned to thank Nkobi, but she was already gone. Instead, the guards had entered the room and ordered him to get dressed. Ramsus did so slowly. He felt very tired as well. It was as if he had had a strenuous workout and his muscles were tired, but without the normal soreness that would accompany any hard workout. When he finished dressing, the guards led him back to the holding pen. Along the way, Ramsus thought to himself that it may not have been such a bad ordeal after all.

*****

“…so, that is what she wants of me, of us,” Ramsus concluded as he filled his companions in on his meeting with the templar, Nian Sinchi. The room was silent. The companions sat in the middle of the cell on the floor, lost in their thoughts.

“I don’t know what to do. I do not want to murder someone,” Ramsus stated.

“Puh,” Ral meed exclaimed dismissively. “He's a templar. Killing him would be right. They are all cruel and evil. I don’t see why we even need to discuss it.”

Alrin-Ga spoke up and disagreed. In a simplistic manner he tried to make himself understood in Drajan, saying that he thought murder was wrong no matter who it was.

“I agree with you,” Ramsus said. “I may have killed many men in the arena, but they were all there to kill me. Who is this templar? This man? I don’t know him. Maybe he is not a bad templar. We don’t know.”

Alrin-Ga nodded his large head in agreement, but then another silence settled on the group.

“They’ll kill us if we don’t do it,” Ral meed said. “You know that, right? It is not like we have a choice here. The way I see it; it is a win-win situation. We make one templar happy by doing what she ordered, and she may help us here out of the pit. We get to kill another templar, and one less of them does the world a favor. And lastly, this may be a perfect opportunity to escape.”

“Think about it,” Ral meed continued in a conspiratorial whisper, “We will be let loose within the city. We may be able to make a break for it.”

Alrin-Ga spoke up to disagree, but Ramsus only half listened to the half-giant. He had noticed that Anticus had not said anything in the conversation yet. He watched the dwarf and waited for Alrin-Ga to finish speaking. He was still undecided about the task thought he was leaning towards Alrin-Ga’s point of view and wanted another’s opinion to convince him.

“What about you, Anticus? You have been quiet so far. What do you think?” Ramsus asked. The dwarf looked up.

“I have been contemplating fate. Wondering about the good and the bad that fate decrees for us. And also, wondering if we could shape fate through our own desires. I don’t know if it’s true or not, but fate has put this in our path,” Anticus said and paused before continuing with the topic at hand, “We will kill him. We have to.”

Ramsus was taken aback. “Why?”

“Ramsus, you know about my oath of vengeance on Kulhuatepec and the others that sent me here. Well, that vengeance can begin with this task. I know of Atemoztli. He is an ally of Kulhuatepec’s. In fact, Atemoztli was his mentor at one time.

Years ago, Atemoztli was Kulhuatepec’s superior in the army, until one day when he was wounded in the leg in a battle. The leg did not heal well, causing Atemoztli to develop a heavy limp. So he transferred to the Department of Trade, while Kulhuatepec was promoted to fill his position. From his position, Atemoztli helps supply Kulhuatepec’s forces, as well as provides the comforts that Kulhuatepec demands when in the field. The two are still close.” Anticus went on to describe to Ral meed and Alrin-Ga why he had sworn vengeance against Kulhuatepec.

“For me, the decision is clear. Ral meed, you want to do it. I’ll go with you. I have too. Ramsus, what about you? Remember your pledge to help me?”

“Aye. I remember. Okay. I’ll go.”

Another silence descended on the group. Eventually, Ramsus looked up at Alrin-Ga. “What about you? We could use your strength, Big One. Even if you do not want to participate in the kill, we may need you for other things.”

Slowly Alrin-Ga responded, “Much trouble could happen. I go and watch over yous. Make sure yous not get in much trouble.” And thus the decision was made.

*****

Over the next couple of days the companions tried to plan for the up coming operation. Though they came up with various scenarios, attack plans, and ambushes, in the end they realized they knew too little about what they will face to really formulate a strategy.

Ral meed continued to push for an escape plan. But this came to nothing when Anticus pointed out they were being released into the templar’s quarters. They would be armed and dressed as slaves. No one would help them, and even if they escaped into the wilderness they had no food or water. So, none of the others would go along with Ral meed’s scheme, and he soon dropped the idea.

So the group prepared as best they could. Anticus and Alrin-Ga used their respective abilities to heal the group’s wounds. Ramsus and the others worked on coordinated attack retinues so that the group would fight better together. They disguised this work as practice for the arena.

Thus the group past the days until the appointed night. Finally, the night came. The group gathered in their cell, very quiet, waiting.
#21

Band2

Sep 05, 2008 12:30:42 		Episode 18 – The Strike


Locale: Arena of Draj
Date: Sedulous 14, Desert’s Fury, 190th King’s Age (Free Year 11)

It was past midnight when the cell door was opened and a hushed voiced called in, “You ready?”

Ramsus was first to his feet and moved quickly to the door. “Yeah, we’re ready,” he answered for the group.

“Good. Come with me, and be quiet.”

In the hallway a group of guards waited. Ramsus noticed they were not slave pen guards but were dressed differently. He did not recognize any of the men.

“Where is Lloque?”

“Shut up, I said. He’s not coming. Now shut up and move,” the leader ordered. The guards led the group to the gladiator armory. There the group was able to arm themselves from the collection of weapons and piecemeal armor. Once the group was finished the guards led them out of the arena and into the city streets.

Ramsus had rarely been out in the city and was quickly lost as the group followed a confusing path down back streets. The group saw very few people out on the street. The leader directed the group into an area filled with grain silos and selected one of the silos partially hidden behind the others. Opening the door to the silo revealed it to be empty, and the leader motioned the group inside.

“Here is where I leave you. You are to return back here when you are done. I’ll come back to get you an hour before dawn. You come with me, the rest of you stay here.” He had pointed at Ramsus, and led the mul outside.

“That is where your target lives,” the man said pointing to a long low building behind the silos. “There is no entrance from this side, but the main gate is around front. No one else is there tonight other then him and his two bodyguards. Still, don’t make too much noise. S has made arrangements with some of the templar patrols tonight but not all of them.” Without another word, the man turned to leave.

“Wait. What about…” Ramsus said grabbing ahold of the man’s arm to stop him.

“I am not here to answer your questions. Do your job and be back here when I come to get you. Got it?” the man responded in a hard whisper and wrenched his arm from Ramsus’s grasp.

As Ramsus re-entered the silo, Anticus came over to him and said, “Ral meed says those men are Tsalaxan. Something is going on here. We are apart of something bigger than just a feud between two templars.”

“Great. So, do you want to call this off?”

“No,” Anticus responded emphatically. In fact it was Ral meed, the first one to support the idea, who was having a change of heart.

“It’s not like I am scared or don’t think any good templar is a dead templar. Nothing like that. I just did not realize before how many people are using us to do their dirty work. That’s what is bothering me.”

“So what,” Anticus threw in. “I don’t care. They are giving me what I want. So in a sense, I am using all of them too. I say we still go.” As he finished speaking, Anticus looked to Ramsus for approval.

“I don’t think we can back out now. We are here. We have to go on,” Ramsus said.

Ral meed did not say anything, just looked away. When Ramsus looked towards Alrin-Ga, the half-giant said, “It getting worse. Bad troubles. But I stay. Watch over yous.”

“Alright. Wait here. Anticus and I will go scout out the front,” Ramsus ordered.

“Humph. Those two will wake up half the neighborhood,” Ral meed said in a none too subtle whisper. Anticus and Ramsus looked at each other puzzled.

“You think you can do better?” Ramsus asked.

“Of course I can. It’s what I do,” Ral meed responded. “Wait here.” And with that the elf slipped out into the night.

The others stood in silence for a few minutes before Ramsus spoke up. “So, do you think he is a scout or is his just being an elf and thinking he is superior to anyone else?”

“I don’t know. He could be,” Anticus relied. To the surprise of both the dwarf and mul, Alrin-Ga spoke up.

“Yes, he scout. I watch him careful. When he moves he makes no sound. Just like a good scout. He come back all safe. No worry.”

Ramsus and Anticus looked at each other and shrugged. Neither of them had noticed how quiet Ral meed was when he moved.

When the elf returned, none of the three heard his approach until he opened the silo door.

“The Tsalaxan was right. There is no one on the street. Around front there is a gate that opens onto a small courtyard. There is one guard at the gate but the guard is a half-giant.”

“Damn, no one said anything about the bodyguards being half-giants. Well, no matter,” Ramsus said brushing aside any worry.

“How high is the wall around the courtyard? Do you think you and Anticus could get over it?” Ramsus asked the elf.

“Well, of course I could get over it, but how is the short one going to do that?” Ral meed responded.

“Do you think you can help the dwarf over the wall?” Ramsus asked harshly, beginning to lose patience with the elf.

“Yeah, I think I can do that. What are you going to be doing?”

“Alrin and I will start a fight with the half-giant at the gate. That should draw the other guard to us. We’ll take the two of them. You two climb the wall and slip into the courtyard behind the guards. That leaves Atemoztli to you.”

“Ok? Then lets go,” Ramsus said when the others nodded their agreement. As they were leaving Alrin-Ga placed a hand on Ramsus’s shoulder and stopped the mul.

“Ga,” the half-giant said. A puzzled look crossed Ramsus’s face.

“Ga,” the half-giant said again.

“Yes, I heard you the first time, but I don’t know what you are saying.”

“Ga name. Me name Alrin-Ga. Alrin-GA,” the half-giant said with emphasis. Ramsus realized his mistake.

“Sorry. Sorry big fella. I won’t forget again. Now let’s go. Ok,” spoke Ramsus.

Alrin-Ga smiled and nodded, and the two headed into the night. Once they circled around to the front of the building, they could see the street empty but for the lone guard.

They readied their weapons. Both had armed themselves with alhulaks and wore leather armor pieces on their arms. Ramsus worn one on his chest too, but Alrin-Ga had not been able to find a leather chest-piece big enough for himself.

“Alright, follow me,” Ramsus said and led Alrin-Ga down the street. The half-giant on guard soon saw the pair coming and kept a close eye on them. When the pair were still a dozen steps away the guard could see that they were armed and shouted to them, “Hey whad you doin’!”

Without hesitation Ramsus charged, swinging the alhulak over his head as he ran.

“Oxag, weez got trouball!” the half-giant shouted and readied a massive club studded with sharp, obsidian shards. Ramsus had to hastily throw himself down to avoid the massive club. Doing so upset his timing, and caused the spinning alhulak to wobble. He did not have enough momentum built up to swing the weapon effectively and his strike bounced off the half-giant’s leather chest plate.

Alrin-Ga charging behind Ramsus had trouble getting his alhulak to spin properly. Never having used such a weapon before, he could not figure out how to keep the alhulak’s head spinning. He stopped running and gave the weapon a few test swings, but could not figure it out.

Ramsus hastily backed out of the way as the half-giant smashed his club into the wall where a second before the mul had been standing. The mul continued to back up as he spun his weapon to build momentum. When he released the weapon, he hit but the blow was minor; the weapon scrapping along the half-giant’s left arm, drawing blood but causing no real damage.

Alrin-Ga could still not figure out the weapon. Instead he gave up and swung the alhulak as a club. The weapon’s spiked head came closer to hitting Ramsus’s head than it did the enemy half-giant.

Both companions backed away from the guard to get more room. Instead of following them the half-giant waited back by the gate. A few seconds later, Oxag came through the gate. Oxag was another half-giant, as big as the first one guarding the gate. He was armed with an obsidian battle axe. The two half-giants began to whisper to each other to plan a battle strategy.

“Don’t let them have a chance,” Ramsus shouted and charged. Ramsus was closest to the first half-giant. The mul swung his alhulak low and had the satisfaction of a hit. The weapon slashed in, tearing a large chunk out of the half-giant’s leg. The mul’s elation was short lived as he barely managed to avoid the half-giant’s swing. The club passed so close to his head that the obsidian shards left jagged scratches along the left side of his head and shoulder.

The second half-giant guard faced down Alrin-Ga, who tried again unsuccessfully to use the alhulak. The guard used his battle axe to beat the weapon aside, then tried to use his other hand to wrestle the weapon away from Alrin-Ga. The two struggled back and forth, until Alrin-Ga ripped the alhulak away from the other half-giant. This caused the guard to topple backwards off balance. Alrin-Ga sought to press his opponent and swung the alhulak again. This time the alhulak struck the guard’s shoulder and buried itself there. The handle of the alhulak was pulled from Alrin-Ga’s hand as the guard threw himself backwards and fell heavily against the wall.

Alrin-Ga thought he had seriously wounded his opponent, but was wrong. When the half-giant steadied himself back onto his feet, he used the same arm that the alhulak was buried in. Looking closer, Alrin-Ga realized the weapon was buried in the guard’s leather armor, and had done little real damage. Unarmed Alrin-Ga tried to back quickly out of the way but was struck in the arm by the half-giant’s axe.

Ramsus pressed a hand to the side of his face and felt the blood flowing. It was not deep. But the action had distracted him for a second. He was too slow to dodge the next blow and the massive club struck him in the center of the chest. The blow lifted him off his feet and crashing against the stone wall.

Ramsus slammed against the wall and fell to the ground. His breathing was ragged and heavy, though he still had the alhulak in his hand. The half-giant loomed over him. Moving as quickly as he could, Ramsus gripped the head of the alhulak in his left hand and brought it hacking down on the half-giant’s foot. The half-giant screamed in pain and the blow he aimed at finishing Ramsus missed. The wound in his foot and the earlier cut to his leg caused the half-giant to stumble and brace himself against the wall. Sensing the opportunity, Ramsus scrambled away and got to his feet.

As the battle at the gate ragged, Ral meed and Anticus scampered down the street. Reaching the walled compound, the elf helped Anticus over the wall and then quickly jumped up and pulled himself over. The courtyard was empty. The main door to the compound hung open. The two started towards the door, but before they were halfway there, Ral meed stopped and turned back towards the gate.

“What are you doing?” Anticus hissed softly.

“I want to check on them. They do not sound like they are doing well out there.”

Alrin-Ga continued to back away from his opponent, heading down the street in the opposite direction from Ramsus. He tried to fend off the guard’s blows, but took another strike to his side. Another blow glanced off his protective leather armor. Alrin-Ga took the opportunity to make a grab for his weapon, but he missed. The half-giant guard swung at him again forcing Alrin-Ga back.

“Ramsus, help! In trouble!” Alrin-Ga called out, but the battered mul had troubles of his own. The mul tried to yell a reply but he still felt as if the wind was knocked out of him and he could not catch his breath to respond.

Ral meed and Anticus heard their companion’s cry in the courtyard. That made the decision for Ral meed and the elf took off at full sprint for the gate. Anticus glanced once at the open front door of the compound before shaking his head and reluctantly heading for the gate too.

Ral meed burst out into the street, a sword and dagger drawn and saw the predicament his two companions were in. He decided Alrin-Ga needed his help more, just as the guard smashed the flat of his axe into Alrin-Ga’s face, bruising the half-giant’s eye.

Attacking before Oxag knew he was there, Ral meed slashed his bone sword down the guard’s back. He tried to bury his dagger into the half-giant’s ribs but Oxag spun around on him too quickly, and the dagger skitted off the half-giant’s protective leather. The half-giant hurried the swing, before he even looked behind him, and missed the elf.

Before the guard could attack again, Anticus was there and slammed his battle axe into the half-giant’s leg. Ral meed attacked again, slashing and stabbing, and leaving bloody streaks down the guard’s arms. Alrin-Ga rushed forward and yanked his alhulak out of the guard’s shoulder. The force of the pull coupled with Anticus’s hit to the leg caused the half-giant to fall over. The three companions started to swarm over the fallen guard when a loud voice cut through the night.

“What, in the King’s name, is going on here?”

A regal man of middle-age stood in the gateway. He leaned on a long staff and held a small oil lamp in his other hand.

“I charge you in King Atzetuk’s name. Stop and commit yourselves to the king’s justice!” the man ordered.

Anticus grunted and charged the man with a battle cry. Atemoztli used his staff to parry the dwarf’s first swing and slammed the staff’s other end into the side of Anticus’s head. The blow hardly fazed the dwarf who pressed his attack.

Ral meed stayed behind and helped Alrin-Ga finish off the downed half-giant, who still had some fight left in him. On the other end of the street Ramsus faced off against the other half-giant. Because of their injuries, their fight had slowed. At the sight of his master the half-giant fought with renewed strength.

Anticus tried to stand firm and trade blows with the templar, but the templar continued to block his blows while retaliating successfully. However, Anticus noticed the templar’s limp during this exchange. Since he had been unsuccessful before Anticus decided to rush him. Lowering a shoulder Anticus smashed into the templar. Atemoztli stumbled backwards into the courtyard flailing his arms for balance.

Anticus waited to see if the templar would fall. When he did not the dwarf renewed his attack. By this time, Ral meed and Alrin-Ga had finished off Oxag. The elf rushed into the courtyard to help Anticus as Alrin-Ga, after grabbing the fallen half-giant’s axe, went to help Ramsus.

As Ral meed entered the courtyard, Atemoztli drew a thin bone wand from his robe. Anticus tried to strike the wand out of the templar’s hand but missed. Atemoztli uttered an arcane syllable and a thin beam of light fired from the wand striking Anticus. Immediately the dwarf felt his muscles freeze up, holding him in place. He could not move. He could not talk and panic began to flood his mind.

Ral meed rushed to his friend’s aid. Atemoztli fired the wand at the elf, but the elf threw himself to ground out of the way. As the templar readied to fire the wand again, Ral meed gathered arcane energy to himself from the surrounding plants. His eyes took on a purple glow as the energy filled him. From one knee, he spoke the arcane words of power and directed the energy out at Atemoztli. A bolt of energy fired from Ral meed’s hand and struck the templar.

Atemoztli stumbled backwards against the door of the compound, dropping his staff in the process. Ral meed was on his feet quickly and rushing the templar. Panicking, Atemoztli tried to get inside the house and close the door, but the elf moved too fast for him. Atemoztli turned and tried to run down the hallway, but could not get far with his limp. Ral meed kept up easily hacking and slashing at the templar’s back until he fell.

Moments later, Ral meed was back in the courtyard, sword and dagger bloodied. He began trying to revive his friend, Anticus but the dwarf seemed paralyzed.

Outside, Alrin-Ga rushed at the half-giant fighting Ramsus. Before
he could get there, the two traded blows, resulting in a stinging blow to Ramsus’s arm and a small cut to the half-giant’s ear.

As Alrin-Ga approached the half-giant turned to face him, thinking he was the bigger threat. When he did, Ramsus whirled the alhulak and sent it smashing into the guard’s back. The half-giant screamed arching his back and half turned with his club upraised to strike at the mul. Alrin-Ga swung his battle axe and buried it into the guard’s shoulder. The guard’s upraised arm dropped letting the huge club fall. He took a staggered side step and then fell face first into the street. And with that the street grew silent.
#22

Band2

Sep 10, 2008 11:43:33 		Episode 19 – Aftermath


Locale: Arena of Draj
Date: Sedulous 15, Desert’s Fury, 190th King’s Age (Free Year 11)

In the dimly lit courtyard, Ral meed silently walked up to the paralyzed dwarf and bent over so that his face was even with Anticus’s.

“Don’t tell the others what you saw.” Ral meed’s eyes flashed dangerously in the dim moonlight.

“Just say that we killed him. Nothing else.” Ral meed waited still bent over until minutes later Anticus began to move again.

“Ok,” the dwarf said, fear in his eyes. Without a word the elf turned and led the way to the courtyard’s gate. The two looked out onto the street. Both half-giant bodyguards were dead. Blood from the battle was splashed on the wall and all over the street. The moon Ral was almost full and in its light the blood looked black. Halfway down the street, Alrin-Ga stooped over a kneeling Ramsus. The mul was hurt badly.

Just then a shout of alarm was heard from nearby. The companions quickly raced down the street in the opposite direction, Alrin-Ga picking up and carrying the wounded Ramsus. The companions raced back to the silo. When all were inside, Ral meed spoke up, “Stay here. I’ll make sure no one followed us.”

When the elf left, Anticus watched him go and stared at the door afterwards. Alrin-Ga set Ramsus down and examined his wounds. In the dim light he could not see how extensive the damage was. Ramsus, putting on a front of bravado, tried to shrug it off, saying he did not need any help and tried to stand. But the mul had trouble standing and Alrin-Ga gingerly but forcefully sat the mul back down.

Blood still flowed from the wounds on the mul’s chest. Calling on the power of the earth, Alrin-Ga tried to heal Ramsus’s wounds. The half-giant had to use the power of the earth twice before the bleeding stopped, and still the wounds were not healed completely.

Ral meed returned to say that no one had followed them to the silo. After that, the companions sat down to wait for their escorts. Shortly before dawn, the Tsalaxan guards returned for them. When leaving the silo, the group could hear a commotion in the street near Atemoztli’s house; however, they saw no one. The guards led them back through the streets to the arena.

*****

The four companions were back in the cell block trying to rest. Before they could, a banging on the cell door woke them up.

“It’s game day. Start getting ready. You’ll be fighting soon.” It was Yahuar, called the Trustee by the others. Yahuar was an old gladiator who had a position of trust with the guards because years before he had saved a templar’s life. He no longer fought in the arena, but helped with small jobs around the pens.

“Leave us alone, Trustee,” Ramsus shouted back. “We ain’t fighting today.”

“You ain’t fightin’? From the looks of ya’, ya’ll arleady been in a fight today,” Yahuar said, looking over the group. Seeing Ral meed was the only one not injured, he continued, “What’s the matter, the elf beat you three up last night?”

“Just leave us be.”

Still laughing, Yahuar walked off down the hall, and the group tried to get back to sleep. Later he returned.

“I don’t knowa how you knows it, but ya’ll weren’t called up today. Ya’ll sure lucky.” Yahuar said it without a trace of suspicion showing, but he was inwardly trying to figure out what was going on. ‘What powerful friends did you make?’

“Speaking of luck,” being suspicious of everyone, Ral meed spoke up, “you’re about to be very unlucky today.” The elf started to cross the cell towards the old gladiator.

“Allsright, allsright,” Yahuar pleaded. “I’ll leave ya’ be.” The Trustee turned and limped away.

The companions spent the rest of the day resting and recuperating. Anticus tried to tap his nexus to heal the party’s wounds but was only moderately successful. In the afternoon Ramsus went to watch the more experienced gladiator matches in the arena. A short time later, with Alrin-Ga snoring on the other side of the cell, Anticus could wait no longer and confronted Ral meed.

“You’re a defiler!” he accused.

“Quiet! Don’t wake him,” Ral meed said and indicated Alrin-Ga with his chin.

“You are one of those evil defilers?” Anticus asked in a quieter tone.

“No! I am not. I am something different.”

“What? You’re what? You better start explaining yourself.”

“Don’t threaten me,” Ral meed shot back.

“Ok, ok. I am sorry,” Anticus said. “I do not want to accuse you of anything until I hear everything. Now, please, explain.”

“All magic is not evil,” Ral meed began and then paused to think of his next words. “Defilers are evil. They are responsible for all of the destruction that you have heard about. They suck the life out of this world. But there is another way.”

Anticus tried hard to stop himself from interrupting with questions.

“It’s called preserving. It is the opposite of defiling. We take the energy from living things, but only enough that we need. Not all, like defilers do. Our magic does not kill plants. It just borrows energy from them.”

Anticus regarded the elf skeptically.

“You don’t believe me? Think back to the garden. There were plenty of plants there. Did you see any of them die? Anything reduced to ashes? No.”

“It was dark. I could have missed it. Besides I have never been that close to a defiler before.”

“Well then, you are a psionicist. Read my mind. See if I am telling you the truth,” Ral meed proposed.

“Unfortunately, I have not been trained to do that.”

“Then, you just have my word.”

“Yes, your word.” Anticus said it with a trace of suspicion.

“You do not trust me yet?”

“Why did you want me not to tell the others then?”

Ral meed exhaled heavily. “Because it is difficult enough convincing one stubborn dwarf. How can I convince three people at once? Each person’s hatred and mistrust of defilers would build on the others. It would be impossible. I thought that I could trust you and that you trust me.”

“So did I, until last night” Anticus responded.

“Well then I am asking you to trust me. Do not tell the others yet. Let me do it in my time.” After a pause the elf added, “Please.”

After a long pause, Anticus finally answered, “I’ll think about all this. And I’ll be watching how you act. For now, I will not say anything.”

The elf nodded his head and said, “Okay.” The two left it for now. That night Anticus got very little sleep. His dreams were haunted with images of a sinister Ral meed laughing as he drained the life out of the dwarf and Ramsus.

*****

Nian Sinchi responded to Lloque’s comment with a titling laugh. “Really, Lloque it is not bad at all.”

“Those bumbling fools hacked Atemoztli to pieces. Blood and gore flooded the street,” Lloque responded.

“I hear the slaves are still trying to wash the blood off the compound walls,” Nian said, a small smile coming to her lips.

“It is a pity I cannot see that from here,” she said and let the linen curtain fall back in place over the window. As she did so, she turned to face the small man.

“I think it is simply marvelous. They performed just as I expected,” she stated.

“What? You wanted this barbarism?” Lloque asked.

“Of course, why else do you think I approached that gladiator? I hired a band of gladiators. They are brutal killers, not stealthy assassins. If I had wanted that, I would have contracted a bard.

No this way is much better. Any of Atemoztli’s supporters will be quaking in their sandals at the carnage. Ooh, I do hope they do not clean off all the blood before they all get a chance to see it. Wouldn’t it be perfect if some of the stains are never removed. So, any time they happen to walk down that street to their quarters, they will have a little reminder of what happens when you stand in my way,” Nian finished and smiled again.

To stop himself from shivering with squeamishness, Lloque began pacing the room. Finally, he said, “Our merchant contacts are furious.”

“Do not worry about them. Let me do that.”

“Ok, ok. What about your murderous thugs? What should I do about them?”

Nian made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “Leave them in the slave pits. I may need them again.”

“But one of your rivals may discover they are responsible for Atemoztli’s death and have them eliminated,” Lloque offered.

Nian frowned. “Alright, go to Kurzak. Make arrangements with him that they are not overmatched in the arena. It’s a common enough request and should not draw too much suspicion. Anything else is out of my hands. They will just have to watch out for themselves. Hopefully they can stay alive until I may need their services again.”
#23

Band2

Sep 22, 2008 14:08:04 		Episode 20 – Focus on Revenge


Locale: Arena of Draj
Date: Sedulous 16, Desert’s Fury, 190th King’s Age (Free Year 11)

“You look terrible,” Ramsus said.

“I am ok. I’ll be fine in a little bit,” Anticus said with a grunt. In truth, he felt horrible. He had had little sleep during the night. What little he did have was plagued with nightmares of a laughing Ral meed draining the life out of the dwarf and their other two companions to power his magic.

The mul left Anticus alone in his misery, and went to sit on the other side of the cell with Ral meed and Alrin-Ga. Later the half-giant asked Anticus to join them. Reluctantly, the tired dwarf did.

“How many more like night?” Alrin-Ga wanted to know. When Anticus just shrugged his shoulders in confusion the half-giant went on.

“How many more must you murder until revenged? Could go on for years and years. We murder man just cause he friend of your enemy. If enemy have lots and lots of friends that too many to kill. Me no want to murder so many.”

“I see want you mean. Atemoztli was not just a friend of Kulhuatepec, he was his mentor. He created Kulhuatepec in a way,” Anticus responded defensively. Alrin-Ga stared at him dubiously.

“Well, to answer your question, there are four templars that I have sworn to kill, Kulhuatepec and the three templars of his command staff. I already have told you about Kulhuatepec. The others were all there that day too.

Tizapan and Cajamarca both command battalions under Kulhuatepec. The third is Tutul Xiu. Especially him. He was the one who arrested me. I will always remember his sneering face as he sent me into captivity. He enjoyed my downfall. I don’t know why he did, but I wonder if it was his idea that I be sent here. I don’t know, but I feel that is so.”

“Anyway I cannot rest until they are humbled. I will take them down, no matter what stands in my way. I have to!” His tone became more intense and he clenched his fist as he finished.

Alrin-Ga slowly shuck his large head and said, “So much hatred, not good. Hurts you more than them.”

“It’s not hatred!” Anticus shouted but then stopped and calmed himself.

“You would not understand. You’re not a dwarf,” Anticus mumbled and then fell silent.

Ramsus spoke up coming to Anticus’s aid, “I have pledged to help you. And I will. Whatever the risks. Those four and then it’s done.”

Ral meed said nothing, but just stared back at Anticus. Something was still unresolved between them. Alrin-Ga took a massive breath and let it out slowly.

“I with you. But I mediate on your problem. Seek better understanding to find better solution to murders. Even the mighty boulder can be weakened from the inside.”

*****

The next day, as the group left the cell to be served their mid-day meal, Anticus pulled Ral meed aside.

“So, what have you decided?” the elf asked, looking down at Anticus.

“Tell me again about the differences of the magics,” the dwarf asked.

“You have not told the others yet?” Ral meed asked.

“No, I want to make up my own mind first. I want to understand.”

“Ok. In order to power our spells users of magic need to tap into the life energy of living beings. Typically that means plant life, since it is much easier to tap. Only the highest level users have the skills to use animal life. Defilers drain all the life out of a plant to power their spells. They care nothing for the plants and do not seem to care that they are causing the world to die. For once a defiler drains an area the plant life turns to ash. Nothing grows there for years. They do not seem to understand that the source of their power is non-renewable.

There are some of us who learned a different way. Instead of draining all the life from a plant, we tap into the energy slower and from more plants at once. This allows the plants to survive. They don’t die. Don’t turn into ash. Afterwards they continue to grow and thrive. We preservers are able to perform most of the same magical feats as the defilers without killing off all the plant life.”

“If that is true, why aren’t all magic users preservers? It makes sense not to destroy the source of your power,” Anticus questioned.

“I don’t know. There are lots of reasons, probably one for each defiler. Many don’t know there is another way. They were taught the method by their master and are defilers out of ignorance.

Defiling is quick and easy. Those who are ambitious and draw to it for the power it brings are going to take the quickest way to power. These people do not have the patience it takes to be a preserver.

For others it’s a means to an end. If they become a defiler then their tribe or village can survive, if not the tribe will be killed by the desert’s beasts.”

When Ral meed finished, Anticus was silent for a while, as he contemplated what the elf had said.

“Ok, let’s catch up with the others,” Anticus finally said.

“Wait. So what’s your decision?” Ral meed stopped him and asked.

“I will think about all you have said. Then I will decide,” was the response.

The two met up with Ramsus and Alrin-Ga in line waiting for their meal. After getting the meager portions, the group gathered to eat away from the other gladiators. Anticus noticed that Ramsus seemed a little distracted.

“I wonder if Nian wants to see me to report to her how we did,” Ramsus muttered.

“She’s trouble. Best that we never hear from her again,” Anticus told the mul.

“Trouble. Mmm. Yes, maybe she is. Still, I wonder if I’ll ever see her…” the mul trailed off and looked off into the distance.

“Why?” Anticus asked, sensing something in his companion’s mood. “Why are you so anxious to see her again?”

“What? Nothing. No reason… Nothing at all. You’re right she’s nothing but trouble,” the mul said. When Anticus tried to press him more Ramsus would not respond. Eventually Anticus let the subject drop, thinking he may know the reason for the mul’s interest in seeing the templar again, but hoping he was wrong.

That afternoon, the group trained intensely for the next day was Game Day.

*****

The next morning, Alrin-Ga had an idea and went to Ral meed to ask him for a favor. “You help cut me hair?”

“Your hair? Why would you want to cut it?” Ral meed asked and shook his own long mane of hair.

“Alrin-Ga want like Ramsus and Anticus but cannot. So Alrin-Ga get as close as possible. You help, ya?”

“But we are the two long-hairs,” the elf said pointing to Alrin-Ga’s long dreadlocks. “You cannot join those two skull-heads! Then what am I suppose to do? I will be the only one with hair!”

“Alrin-Ga need help. Ask you. I’s trusting you with knife to cut hair in back. Need someone to trust. I asking you. Understand? Yes,” the half-giant replied.
The elf was taken aback for a second before agreeing. Ral meed helped the half-giant cut his hair short. Despite the dull blade used, Ral meed made sure he did not cut the half-giant. When they were done, a huge pile of the half-giant’s hair was left on the floor.

Ramsus and Anticus joked with Alrin-Ga when they saw his new hair cut, but did so good-naturedly. It helped break the tension that was building around the up-coming match. The group had a good laugh as they stretched and warmed up for the day’s fight. Once they had finished their warm up, they sat down to wait, because they had not been called up yet.

As they waited, the group noticed none of the gladiators were being called up. Someone was late or something was wrong. A ragged stream of gladiators began to head for the slave pens exit to the arena, gathering to wait for some word as to what was happening. The group followed and asked a few of the others if they knew what was going on.

“Shh!” someone shouted. “Tlaxacala is making an announcement to the crowd.” The press of gladiators quieted waiting for the ones near the front, who were straining to hear the announcement in the arena, to report what was said.

“The games are canceled!” someone from the front shouted back.

“Why?” Ramsus tried to ask, but his voice was drowned by the dozens of others that wanted to know the same thing. A raucous cacophony of noise exploded in the hallway as the gladiators shouted questions and answered back and forth that few could hear. However, one word began to filter back to the four companions. War!
#24

Band2

Sep 29, 2008 13:58:06 		Episode 21 – War’s First Impression


Locale: A small village near Draj
Date: Sedulous 20, Desert’s Fury, 190th King’s Age (Free Year 11)

It was less than an hour before dawn but already people were up and working in the small village. Because of the heat of the mid-day sun the villagers tried to get as much work done in the fields in the morning as possible. While the farmers gathered their equipment and some slaves for another day in the fields, the small garrison of tired soldiers looked on.

Only the largest house in the village showed no activity this early in the morning. This building housed the local moon priest in-charge of the village. He arose when he preferred, because he never had to work out in the fields.

The village was a small community nestled on the edge of a verdant belt that surrounded the city-state of Draj. The land was poorer here as it progressed into the stony barrens that lay outside the lush belt of arable land. The land was rolling with small hills and broken by slight ridges.

This morning as they headed into their fields of hemp and corn, some of the farmers stopped. There were shadows on the rise above the village. At first they were difficult to make out, but as the sun peaked over the horizon, the shapes were more visible. Many, many shapes. All armed. Before the farmers could begin to count their numbers, the hoard charged down the slope into the village.

The hoard was a mixture of elves, humans, tareks, and others. The armed force flowed like a dark tide down the ridge and over the village. The farmers tried to defend themselves with their farming equipment, but were quickly hacked down by the mob.

The village garrison panicked and fled, seeking shelter in the moon priest’s villa. The stone-walled building might have formed a strong defensive buttress for the villagers, but the guards locked the doors against them. Inside panic reigned as the guards rushed about trying to set up a defense, while the moon priest, awaken hastily out of bed, shouted to his men, demanding to know what was going on. Outside the slaughter of the villagers continued, men, women, and children. None of the raiders approached the villa.

A thundering explosion struck the building. It was followed by another lightning bolt that slammed into the building caving in one of the walls. The roof collapsed killing many of the guards and trapping even more of them in the rubble.

As the men within struggled to free themselves, a sickly green cloud appeared close to the ground and flowed over the ruins of the villa. When the cloud reached the ruins there were screams of pain and shouts of panic from within, but once the cloud had settled the screams turned to choking gasps and then silence.

Standing in the fields outside the templar’s villa, a single figure stood. Surrounding the lone figure was a circle of ash that began to drift off in the wind, as the figure moved from the field towards the ruined villa.

On a small rise to the north of the village, a strange pair watched this events unfold.

“ ’at one ven-‘ahr tik alh?” the taller figure asked. The mantis warrior towered over his companion who stood a little over three feet tall.

“Ee-*, nish is one weh-shar,” Wir-obech replied. The halfling and thri-kreen spoke in a pigeon language of their own devising, using terms from thri-kreen, the halfling’s language, as well as Draji. When they had first met neither one had spoken a language the other understood. Over the past few weeks, they had developed this simple means of communication. The thri-kreen had asked if the defiler was the one who captured Wir-obech, and the halfling replied no, the defiler was one of the students.

Since his capture by the defiler Bintulu, Wir-obech had been part of the army of Farlcunn. The warlord had been intensely curious about the halfling’s living weapons. Chika-Ra-L’tz, as a druid, had been assigned to help Wir-obech devise a means to care for and feed the living items outside of their normal environment. The two had succeeded and Wir-obech’s living items still lived.

During their time working together the two had recognized a commitment in each other to serve the spirits of the world. Even though they served vastly different spirits, that commitment had developed into a bond with each other. As they began to communicate they discussed many topics. Chika tried to explain the grand designs of the army to hunt down a great defiler, one of the sorcerer-kings. The halfling, however, could not understand the great loss of life this would entail.

Both of them had begun to doubt the altruistic nature of the undertaking when they learned that the army had a core of defilers. Xern, their superior, tried to explain that they would need the skills of the defilers when the army faced the mighty magic of the sorcerer-king, but the explanation did not suit either Wir-obech or Chika-Ra-L’tz

Just three days before, the two had decided to escape from the army and strike out on their own, but they did not have the opportunity. They were always being watched, typically by Xern, but others did so as well.

As they witnessed the attackers pillaging and looting the village below, they knew for certain that Lord Farlcunn and his army was no force for righteousness.

“Ven-ohg,” (Disgusting) the halfling said of the scene below.

“Yea- (click). Dern ‘ere.” (Yes. Look there.) The thri-kreen indicated with a tilt of its head an area down the ridge where Xern and a squad of fighters stood, apparently watching the fighting below.

“We dhov,” (Let’s go.) Wir-obech said in frustration and led the way down the back side of the small rise. He could watch no more of the gruesome scene.

*****

One group of children on the east side of the village had been collecting manure on the edge of town to be used as fertilizer in the fields. The group was led by the oldest boy, Ticlo, who was 10. As the screams from the village drifted out to the children, the youngest ones began to cry. Ticlo and some of the older boys started towards the village to see what was happening. They did not go far before they could see the slaughter going on.

They stopped, mesmerized by the gruesome sight. Ticlo recovered himself first. He turned and started running away from the village, shouting to the others, “Come on. We have to go to Capanal. Come on.” He had named the nearest village and turned leading the other children in that direction.

Their going was noticed by the hoard and a group of elven sprinters was sent after them. As the grinning elven runners closed the distance, the children panicked. Screaming they began to run in all different directions. Some crashed into each other. Others slipped. Ticlo did not look back, but pressed on, determined to reach Capanal and find help.

The elven raiders fell on the children, hacking and slashing with wicked blades. They only stopped when they were satisfied that all of the children were killed, and turned back to the village. However, in the confusion, the elves missed the small figure of Ticlo disappearing into the distance.

*****

So word of the invaders spread. A contingent of one thousand soldiers was assembled and sent to crush the invaders. The Draji force had underestimated the size of the invading force which greatly outnumbered their force. Two days later, the two sides faced each other for the first time.

The Draji army was outnumbered by the hoard of invaders, but this did not worry them. The Draji soldiers were a proud professional group, and considered themselves more than equal to at least three of the attackers. After all, had not the warriors of Draj never been defeated in battle in living memory?

The Draji force was overwhelmed, though many did fight bravely. The survivors streamed back to Draj to report that the invading army was much bigger than anticipated. The Draji gathered their army to meet the threat on the fields within sight of the city.

Within three days of the first battle the invading force had gathered and prepared for battle. The battle began in the morning, before the hottest part of the day. The Draji knights advanced confident that they could route the enemy. The individual skills and bravery of the Draji soldiers showed from the early phases, as they hacked their way through the enemy.

The battle was difficult but by mid-day, the Draji had broken through the invaders’ first line and were pressing on when Bintulu and his defilers revealed their presence. The Draji army had marched without any defilers, confident in their ability to subdue the unknown invaders without the hated king’s defilers’ help. The appearance of the enemy defilers did not dampen the fighting spirit of the Draji, for they could call on the moon priests who marched with them, or so they thought.

Unfortunately for the Draji soldiers, when King Tectuktitlay died his moon priests lost their ability to cast spells. Thinking they would loose their positions of power, the templars had kept this a secret. So the army which relied on the templars’ spells as a key part of its strategy, had not change its tactics.

As this realization began to dawn on some of the commanders, the enemy leader threw in his reserves. The weight of the enemy counter-attack forced the Draji’s advance to stop, and slowly, ever so slowly, the Draji soldiers began to be forced back. Faced with the overwhelming numbers of the enemy and their magical superiority, the Draji commanders began to panic. That panic quickly spread to the soldiers. What began as an orderly retreat, turned into a frenzied route. The Draji army broke and ran.

The invaders sent kank cavalry and elven sprinters after the fleeing Draji. These units caused havoc among the disordered ranks of the Draji army, as they hacked and slashed at the fleeing soldiers. Some valiant units turned and faced the enemy, but they were too few. Fighting to the last man, they managed to slow the pursuing enemy, buying time for their comrades to reach the city.
#25

Band2

Sep 30, 2008 11:42:54 		Episode 22 – First Blood


Locale: Draj
Date: Sedulous 26, Desert’s Fury, 190th King’s Age (Free Year 11)

The morning had been the same for more than a week in the slave pits. Quiet. Since the games had been canceled the gladiators sat in their cells growing bored. With boredom had come fights. While fights within the gladiator pens were not uncommon, now they happened almost hourly. Many of the gladiators craved action and needed some way to relieve the boredom.

To make matters worse, their meal ration had been cut two days before, so now hunger was a factor as well. Ramsus tried to keep his companions out of trouble. They stayed in their cell most of the time. When they left to train or for meals, all four went together.

They were all together in their cell in the afternoon just waking up, having slept through the hottest part of the day. Ramsus could hear a commotion outside in the hallway, and thought it was another fight. He thought nothing of it as he yawned and stretched. Suddenly the cell was filled with guards and templars yelling orders.

“On your feet! Now! Now! Get moving, you scum! That way! That way you dung pile! Move!”

The stunned gladiators were pushed and cajoled out into the hallway which was itself filling with other gladiators. The crowd was chaotic with gladiators pushing and shoving from all sides, as the guards screamed orders for them to hurry up. The companions struggled to stay together but were quickly split up in the chaos.

The gladiators were led past the armory where each one was quickly thrust a weapon by the guards waiting outside and then hurried on. Down the hall and up into the arena. Thinking this was their destination but no. Across the arena floor to another door and down more hallways, all the while the templars screaming at them to hurry.

Now out into the city streets, surrounded by guards and templars, the gladiators were herded down a wide thoroughfare towards the city’s main gate. Along the way other groups of slaves were pressed into the crowd from other side streets. The slaves, many just simple field slaves, were also armed, though most had simple weapons or makeshift weapons such as farming instruments.

Through the city gate, where a templar stood on a make-shift platform and shouted to the crowd of slaves, “…are here! King Atzetuk needs your help! Strike down your King’s foes. It is your duty. It is your privilege to be called upon in the time of the King’s need. Now is the time…”

Once out of the gate the mad rush slowed. Most of the guards and templars had stopped at the city gate. The column of slaves started slowly down the causeway over the mudflats that surrounded the city of Draj. Ramsus was near the front of the column. He had no idea where his companions were. He was surrounded by strangers and he was afraid.

Ahead of him the late afternoon sky was darkened with thick black smoke. Flames danced in the fields. At the end of the causeway was a small village. Already some of its buildings were on fire. Ramsus could see men fighting and dying in the ruins of the small village. And that was where the press of the crowd was taking him.

‘This is serious, deadly serious,’ Ramsus thought. He was an expert at gladiatorial combat, fighting for his life in the arena for the pleasure of the crowd, but here he was weak with fear, his bowels threatening to loosen. In the arena there was room to maneuver, to dodge aside, but here they were packed in tight.

‘There is no room. How can I spin my weapon over my head before striking? I’ll hit the men next to me. I am getting jostled left and right. How will I keep my aim true?’

Anxiety began to build in the mul. He had been armed with a datchi club, which was not his favorite weapon. He noticed that two spaces away from him a terrified, scrawny, half-naked slave had been armed with a carrikal. Dropping the club, the mul shoved his way through the press to the slave. Ramsus punched the slave hard in the face and ripped the weapon from the man’s hands. The man collapsed backwards, blood spurting from his broken nose. Then the press of the crowd forced Ramsus on again.

Being armed with the familiar weapon offered Ramsus little comfort. The front rank slaves were approaching the end of the causeway. Ramsus could see the enemy clearer now. He saw gith and a few tareks as well as some humans mixed in. A couple of soldiers were out in front of the slave column leading it across. One of the guards raised his obsidian sword over his head and shouted, “CHARGE!”

Instinctively the confused mass of slaves followed the command, and a mad rush towards the enemy began.

*****

Anticus was been swept along by the crowd. When he reached the city gate and saw what lay beyond he began to worry. He desperately searched the crowd for any of his companions but he was shorter than most of the crowd and he could see nothing.

His mind was racing. ‘Ill-equipped, un-trained troops. They must be desperate. They are throwing this rabble into the fight to slow the invaders, to gain time for a defense of the city. That is the only reason to do this. They are sending us to our deaths!’

*****

Alrin-Ga had reached the city gate shortly after Ramsus. But there he had stopped, his great mass preventing the crowd from carrying him along. Instead the mass of people flowed around him. A templar ran up to the half-giant screaming orders for him to move on, but Alrin-Ga ignored him. Instead, he scanned the crowd for a sign of his friends.

The irate templar began prodding Alrin-Ga with a club. Alrin-Ga shooed him away with one massive hand. As he did so he almost missed seeing Anticus as he was swept by. Luckily the dwarf saw him and called out to Alrin-Ga catching his attention.

Alrin-Ga waded through the crowd after his friend. He caught up with the dwarf at the head of the causeway, where they stopped, Alrin-Ga using his large bulk to hold off the press of the crowd.

“We are being used as fodder. They are going to use us to flood the attackers to buy time,” Anticus shouted over the noise.

Alrin-Ga looked across the mudflats to the battle beginning on the other side, before nodding his head. “Yeah, you are right.”

“We need to organize. To form a battle line,” Anticus shouted. “Lift me up on your shoulders.”

Perched on top of the half-giant’s shoulders, Anticus began shouting out, “Gladiators! To me!” First only a few gladiators fought through the crowd to gather around the two, but quickly the number began to build. Anticus began issuing orders and the two started organizing the group. Eventually a battle line was formed that stretched across the width of the causeway, stopping the mad rush of slaves. Once the first line was created another was formed and then a third behind that one. Anticus assigned a pair of gladiators he knew by sight to organizing more battle lines, as he and Alrin-Ga led the first three forward.

*****

Ramsus watched the soldier leading the charge behead a gith. The man slashed another gith with his sword before he was overwhelmed by a band of tareks. The soldier fell and the tareks hacked at him. Then the mad rush of slaves smashed into the enemy.

Ramsus bumped into the back of a man. Not knowing if he was enemy or friend, Ramsus slammed the hilt of his weapon into the back of the man’s head and then pushed him away.

A gith stabbed at the mul with a spear. Desperately he tried to back away, but the press of bodies behind him pushed him forward. Ramsus twisted and the spear cut across his side instead of thrusting into his abdomen. He grabbed the haft of the spear and swung his carrikal at its wielder but missed. He did manage to pull the spear from the gith’s grasp and now held it awkwardly with his left hand.

The gith disappeared, and suddenly two tareks were charging the mul. Ramsus threw the spear at them. The tareks batted it aside and moved in. Ramsus’s carrikal crashed in the head of one of the tareks, felling him. The other leaped to attack as Ramsus tried to recover his weapon. The tarek struck Ramsus’s back with his impaler. With one hand still trying to pull free the carrikal, Ramsus reach around trying to wrestle the tarek’s weapon away from him.

A rush of slaves carried the tarek away and Ramsus had a brief respite to pull his weapon free. He was surrounded by the meaty sound of weapons striking flesh, the cries of rage from the attackers, and the screams of anguish from the wounded.

A slave, mistaking Ramsus for one of the attackers, swung a club at him. Ramsus back fisted the man, knocking the man flat while screaming, “I am with you, you idiot!”

A man with madness in his eyes looked up at Ramsus from over the body of a slave he had just killed. The man started to rise bringing his short sword to bear, but Ramsus sent him back to the ground with an over handed swing of his carrikal. The man flopped down over the body of his last victim.

Unconsciously Ramsus began to scream, not a proud defiant cry, but a moaning wail, as the battle continued. He hacked at a gith, and missed. A tarek behind the gith tried to swing a battle axe at the mul’s overexposed side, but slipped in blood. The tarek fell against Ramsus, who quickly shoved him to the ground and kicked him. The gith charged and missed, coming so close he allowed Ramsus to bring his weapon smashing down on the gith’s shoulder. The gith reeled back screaming. The fallen tarek tried to stand, but Ramsus slammed the blunt side of his carrikal against him knocking him back to the ground.

The gith fled, and Ramsus crazed with fear and battle, chased after him. Two men stepped into his path and struck at the mul with their weapons. A club bounced off Ramsus’s shoulder, and a sword sliced along his arm.

Ramsus hacked at the two men as he retreated. One slipped and Ramsus struck him hard in the shoulder as the man tried to regain his balance. The man fell blocking his companion from advancing on Ramsus thus giving the mul time to back away. Before the man had moved around the fallen companion, other slaves rushed forward attacking him. They drove him back, while Ramsus rushed forward and struck the man lying on the ground again and again. After each blow, Ramsus had to wrench the axe free from the man’s flesh. By the time the man finally stopped moving, Ramsus was covered in blood.

He looked up just in time to see a group of invaders charging towards him. Ramsus fled back seeking safety with the slaves still gathered at the end of the causeway. Bodies covered the ground, some dead and some still moving. Ramsus could not help but stepping on them as he ran back to the causeway. A thrown spear barely missed him as he ran.

Ramsus reached the gathered slaves. He looked for fighters, other gladiators in the group, but recognized no one. These were all house or field slaves. They had no fighting training and were terrified. Fear swamping him, Ramsus turned back to his pursuers. The original group had seemed to double in size. The mixed group of men, tareks, gith and elves charged directly into the milling mass of slaves.
#26

Band2

Oct 01, 2008 16:52:20 		Episode 23 – The End of the First Day of Battle


Locale: At the end of the causeway over the mudflats of Draj
Date: Sedulous 26, Desert’s Fury, 190th King’s Age (Free Year 11)

The mad rush of attackers stuck. A club missed Ramsus’s head. He struck out with his carrikal and felt more than saw it strike home. A gith thrust a dagger at his groin, and Ramsus just managed to turn it aside. The dagger cut into his thigh instead. Ramsus kicked the gith, and tried to smash its head in with his weapon, but he was pushed aside as two men, wrestling over a spear, crashed into him.

A large tarek was there now, raising his obsidian battle axe over his head to strike Ramsus. The mul reacted quickly swinging his carrikal underhanded into the tarek’s belly. The force of the blow staggered the tarek and his swing went wide. Ramsus quickly reversed the weapon and spun it crashing down on the tarek’s head. Too hard it seemed. Ramsus felt something break as the tarek collapsed to the ground.

He did not have time to check it as a man thrust a spear at his face. Ramsus dodged his head back and the point made only a small cut across his cheek. The mul struck the man with his carrikal and felt his weapon snap. The blade had come loose from the shaft and now was buried in his attacker’s side. Ramsus only held a short club in his hand now. The man was not dead, though, so Ramsus tried to wrestle the man’s spear from him. Before he could succeed, other attackers collided into them knocking them all to the ground.

Ramsus kicked and punched blindly as he thrashed in the blood soaked ground with his attacker. Eventually the mul was able to free himself and climb to his feet. He saw a gith straddling a slave and slicing his throat a few feet away. Ramsus grabbed a nearby fallen club and charged. Before the gith could stand, Ramsus brought the weapon swinging across with both hands. The blow caved in the gith’s head, but also shattered the club in the mul’s hands.

Ramsus dejectedly threw the ruined club away and looked for another discarded weapon, while a wounded man clutched at his feet. Ramsus was about to kick the man to get him to let go, when he heard a battle cry. Looking up, Ramsus saw a line of gladiators charging from the causeway. Leading them were two of his companions, Ral meed and Alrin-Ga.

*****

As they made their way down the causeway, Anticus arranged the lines so that the first line was filled with gladiators. He shouted for this line to charge forward when they reached the end of the causeway. They were not to try to stay in any formation just attack. He suggested they partner up with someone to watch their backs. The other two lines would stay in place and would offer a refuge the gladiators could return to.

Wanting to stay to watch over the two lines, Anticus asked Alrin-Ga to lead the charge of the first battle.

“Good idea. You be like rock. Form the strong wall. I be the avalanche. I go find partner,” Alrin-Ga said and hefted a trikal.

“I’ll be your partner.” Ral meed had appeared behind Anticus suddenly. Anticus turned in surprise. He had had no idea where the elf was until then. The elf was armed with a short sword made of bone and an obsidian hand axe.

“Good, get ready,” Anticus yelled to them both as the line neared the end of the causeway. Alrin-Ga and Ral meed took their positions in the middle of the front rank. Once off of the causeway, Anticus shouted in a voice that cut threw the noise of the battlefield, “CHARGE!” Alrin-Ga raised his weapon high and led the charge.

As he charged forward into the battle, Alrin-Ga recognized Ramsus. He angled his charge towards the mul. Alrin-Ga saw that while the mul was staring at him, four gith were approaching from behind the mul.

Ramsus could have wept when he saw his friends. He was surprised when they ran right past him. Alrin-Ga and Ral meed faced the advancing gith. The half-giant swung his trikal in a huge arc smashing the chest of one of the gith and sending him tumbling into another. Ral meed used the crook of his axe to catch his opponent’s weapon and pull it aside so he could jab his sword into the gith’s belly. He left the gith stumbling backwards, with its hands over the wound trying to hold its insides together, and went to face the last gith.

The gith swung a spiked club at the elf who easily blocked it with his axe. The elf’s return strike just nicked the gith on the arm. Alrin-Ga meanwhile crushed his weapon down on the gith who had fallen, once, twice, before it stopped moving.

The gith facing Ral meed, seeing three of his tribe killed so quickly, turned and fled. Ral meed could not pursue him as a gladiator wrestled with a tarek came between them. The gladiator had lost his weapon. The tarek was trying to drive his pick into the man’s side, but the gladiator had a hold of the blade and was trying to press it back. Ral meed approached the tarek from behind and quickly drove his sword into the creature’s lower back and his hand axe in to its temple.

Alrin-Ga looked up and down Ramsus, seeing the mul covered with blood. He could not tell how badly the mul was wounded, but did not have much time as a group of attackers charged towards him. He pointed to the line of slaves Anticus had formed and told the mul to go there, before turning to face the new opponents.

*****
Anticus stood between the first and second battle lines. He shouted encouragement to the mixture of men and women, dwarves and muls, half-elves and others. Deep down Anticus was terrified, but by focusing on organizing and encouraging the battle lines of slaves he was able to suppress his fear. He shouted encouragement to the slaves, hurled insults at the invaders, and made jokes.

When a band of invaders struck at the left end of the line, Anticus was tempted to rush there to help. But he resisted the temptation. Instead he shouted encouragement to the slaves fighting there. He did tap into his nexus to mentally push over one of the attackers. The man fell over knocking into two tareks beside him.

The attackers there were quickly driven off. But no sooner had that battle ended then another group of invaders struck the line to Anticus’s right. This fight was harder, involving more of the invaders. Anticus ordered the second line forward to support the first. When the line did not move, Anticus rushed down and began pushing the slaves forward, shouting at them, “Kill them! Kill them!”

Reluctantly the second line moved slowly forward. The press of these additional defenders forced the attackers back, as Anticus nervously watched. When the attackers fled, the dwarf led the battle lines in an enormous cheer. When moments later two more battle lines joined them formed from the slaves still at the other end of the causeway, another cheer broke out.

The four battle lines of slaves began to move forward to take the fight to the invaders. As they did so, the slaves shouted, cursed, and cheered. The invaders that remained on the battlefield had been fighting for most of the day. They were tired, wounded, and when they saw the waves of slaves marching towards them they broke and ran.

Most of the slaves cheered with relief as the invaders fled back through the ruined village. Some overcome with blood lust chased after the invaders, but most were content to laugh and jeer at the fleeing attackers.

Ramsus had stayed by Alrin-Ga’s side throughout the rest of the battle. Now bloodied and beaten they reunited with Anticus. Ral meed soon joined them and the four, overcome with the feelings of their triumph and the joy of still being alive, laugh, and clapped each other on the back. The death and savagery surrounding them on the blood soaked battlefield were forgotten as the companions reveled in the victory.

*****
The army led by Lord Farlcunn had been victorious in the fields outside of Draj that day. In victory most of the army had stopped to loot the dead as well as the camp of the Draj army. Only a portion of the army had pursued the Draji to the causeway. There the army faced fierce, unexpected resistance from slave levees that routed the invaders.

However, the routed invaders did not flee far. They returned to the safety of the main army which during the night moved forward towards the end of the causeway that led to the city’s entrance.

The Draji commanders quickly overcame their surprise at the slaves’ victory and moved their forces out to support the slaves. Hasty defenses were thrown up a few dozen yards from the end of the causeway. Crude barricades were made with whatever material was at hand. Some of the surviving houses in the village were torn down to use in the barricades. Others were made from piles of the bodies killed in the evening’s battle. There the armies waiting through the night. Neither side sleeping.

Lord Farlcunn had not expected such a quick victory in battle the previous day, and thus his siege equipment were still days behind him on the trail. The devices meant to ford the mudflats that surrounded the city of Draj would not be available. But Lord Farlcunn believed the Draji were in a state of panic. If he pushed them hard all resistance would collapse. So he ordered preparations for an assault on the causeway the next day.

Throughout the night the army of Lord Farlcunn tried to organize itself. Gith tribes had been mixed together during the fighting the day before. Elven raiders were scattered about, some mixed into raiding tribes of humans, who were also mixed with tarek raiders. When Lord Farlcunn was told that the task of reorganizing the army could not be accomplished in the dark, he cursed his commanders and told them to attack at dawn with what ever they had. The band of defilers led by Bintulu reported that they would not be ready for the dawn attack. The defilers needed a full night’s sleep and hours of study before they would be ready to join the battle with their spells. Lord Farlcunn allowed them to rest. He would not use them in the beginning of the attack, but if the battle still raged by mid morning he could use them to turn the tide.
#27

Band2

Oct 10, 2008 10:49:35 		Episode 24 – Morning of the Second Day of Battle


Locale: The fields outside Draj
Date: Sedulous 27, Desert’s Fury, 190th King’s Age (Free Year 11)

Long after midnight had past, the four companions huddled behind their makeshift barricades trying to sleep. After the battle the companions had scoured the battlefield, arming themselves with discarded weapons and salvaging armor from the dead and dying.

Anticus now wore hide armor and was armed with a pole arm called a lotulis made of bone, along with a stone club. Ramsus had also found an armor of thick hide to wear. The mul still had his carrikal and had found an obsidian-tipped spear as well. Ral meed was able to salvage a suit of leather armor that fit his tall frame from the body of a dead elf. Alrin-Ga had, like Anticus, armed himself with a lotulis. He had had more trouble finding armor to fit his massive frame. All he was able to find was a thick leather chest piece, salvaged from a dead half-giant Draji soldier. Unfortunately the important leg guards, which protected the half-giant’s vulnerable legs against smaller attackers, had been hacked apart and were unusable.

Later, the Draji templars had tried to organize the slaves into units, but the darkness prevented them from getting much accomplished and they gave up. Alrin-Ga and Anticus had done what they could to heal the companions’ wounds from the day before. Now they tried to rest, but fear and apprehension of what awaited in the morning made their sleep fretful.

An hour before dawn, Ral meed was the first up. He stood on the makeshift barricade staring out at the horizon. Despite the previous day’s battle and the poor sleep, he felt ecstatic; better than he had felt in weeks. If he had given some thought to it, it was because he was out beneath the open sky again instead of trapped in the slave pits. But Ral meed did not care to think about it. Instead, he just reveled in the feeling.

When the other companions began to wake, Ral meed started talking, and he would not stop. The companions were use to the elf as reserved and aloof, and were taken aback by this wildly talkative personality. Ral meed talked incessantly about anything, laughing at any small thing.

“He’s gone mad,” Ramsus whispered to Anticus. “He must have been hit in the head yesterday. I’ve seen it happen once in the arena.”

“Hehehe. You don’t know many elves do you? That is how they are. They are always like that. I hear say that when elves are enslaved many of them whither and die. They don’t take well to slavery.”

“Huh, I still say he is crazy,” Ramsus retorted with a shrug.

Ral meed was standing on the barricade again pointing at the sky, “Look at it. Isn’t it gorgeous? All those bright points of light illuminating the dark sky. Wonderful. And look over there the sky is beginning to lighten. A dawn is coming and it will be exquisite to behold…”

With the pre-dawn light came the sound of the war drums. The Draji army uses drums to communicate simple orders to large numbers of troops. At the sound of the drums, templars and other officers began pushing through the sleeping masses wakening the army to prepare for the come day. Slaves and soldiers alike who were too slow in rising were encouraged with slashes of whips or from long reed clubs the templars carried.

All the while as the army awoke and moved to the barricades, Ral meed remained standing tall on top of a section of the barricade, ignoring Anticus’s suggestions that he get down. Finally the half-giant, Alrin-Ga gently but firmly pulled the elf off the barricade, when he saw a group of templars approaching.

There was movement from the invaders lines, but it was still too dark for any of the companions to see.

“Can anyone see what is going on over there?” Ramsus asked.

“I just see a large black mass, can’t make out any details,” Ral meed was the only one to reply, his elven eyesight giving him an advantage over the others in the dim light.

“Hold on a second. I’ll see if I can tell you more.” Ral meed then quieted and focused inside himself. Similar to Anticus, Ral meed could tap into his inner nexus, but unlike the dwarf he had never been trained properly in the Way, but like many people on Athas he was simply a wild talent who could use his inner energy in only one or two ways. In Ral meed’s case, he could use his nexus to enhance his senses. Tapping into his nexus now, Ral meed was able to greatly improve his eyesight.

“They have prepared defenses too. Looks like they are lining up for an attack, though. I think they are grouped by race. I think I see gith there, a lot of humans there, and I think there are elves behind the humans over there. I cannot be sure. There are a lot of standards, but I cannot make out the colors in the dim light. Maybe when it gets more light. They’re all foot soldiers. Don’t see any cavalry.”

“There would not be any here. We are in the middle of the line. Any cavalry would be on the flanks to face our cavalry,” Anticus said.

The group descended into silence again, with each lost in his own thoughts. Ramsus was thinking about the day before. It was not his first fight but it was his first battle, and he had been filled with fear. Earlier he had felt ashamed by the fear, but now he was more concerned that it would return today. He did not want to let down his friends and companions but he was worried that the fear would overcome him and send him fleeing away from the enemy just when his companions needed him most. As he thought of this he unconsciously would clench his right hand into fist then relax the hand and clench it into a claw and relax it again only to continue as before.

“Get ready. When they come, we hold them at the barricade,” the dwarf ordered.

“Wall weak,” Alrin-Ga said shaking the make-shift barricade, “I guess it not hold.”

Anticus thought about that for a minute and then spoke up.

“I have an idea. We will meet them at the wall. But on my signal, which I’ll give if we are hard pressed, we all take two steps back. The barricade is flimsy. It is more of an obstacle than a protection. They will be more occupied climbing over the wall than in fighting, giving us the opportunity to slaughter them.”

The others, having no better ideas, agreed and spread the word to the slave warriors around them of the plan. The code word to signal the maneuver was ‘sand storm.’

Once that was agreed upon, Ral meed went back to staring at the sky. As he did so he nervously tapped his hands against his thigh. He could not wait for the fight to get started. His feelings of euphoria gave him the sense of being invincible. No one could best him, not on this day as he tasted the freedom of being outside of the city’s confines. The elf watched the enemy line for the small indication of when the attack would start. Finally, Ral meed shouted a warning, “Here they come!”

As the elf spoke, a twisted cacophony of horns and drums broke out from the invaders’ line. Seconds later, the war drums of the Draji took up as everyone tensed for the coming battle.

The first attack did not strike the line where the companions waited, but attacked the line farther down to their right. With a roar heard over the noise of the war drums a large band of savage looking humans, both men and women charged the Draji line.

The Draji line was manned by armed slaves at that point, who leveled spears and pole arms at the attackers. The battle cry of the attackers threatened to unnerve many of the untrained slaves. However, this group of slaves was mostly gladiators and so only a couple of them broke and ran at the sight of the attackers. Officers waited behind the lines to stop men from fleeing and force them back into line. A half-giant grabbed one of the fleeing slaves and pushed him hard back into line, while a soldier with a whip chased after another who tried to run off behind the line.

The two battle lines came together with a jarring impact. Most of the first wave of attackers was impaled on the leveled weapons of the defenders. Some defenders had been shaken by the ferocious charge and had not held their weapons true, allowing some of the attackers to reach the barricade and strike back.

Ramsus watched a large woman batter aside spears with a large obsidian battle axe to reach the wall. She lept up onto the barricade and brought her axe down with both hands hard on a defender’s head. The woman gave a crazed shout of jubilation and tried another swing. Before she could two spears struck her and she fell over off the wall into the mass of attackers who promptly trampled her in their haste to reach the wall themselves.

As he watched the fight, Ramsus felt the fear from yesterday returning and had the urgent need to use the bathroom. Ashamed he looked away and tried to get a hold of himself, telling himself he would not be a coward.

Anticus looked on, hardly moving, but grinding his teeth as he willed the men to hold the line. Unnoticed, a small muscle on the side of the dwarf’s neck began to twitch. Anticus was concerned about the upcoming battle. He was not afraid of the battle, he told himself, but he was more concerned about failing. He had sworn an oath to kill the four templars he most considered responsible for his enslavement. The path to fulfill that revenge was now the center of his being. Like all dwarves, Anticus had a single-minded determination to fulfill this goal. But Anticus had heard the rumors and myths of what becomes of dwarves when they die, failing to complete a life focus. It is said they become mutilated undead monstrosities that haunt the living. Anticus was not sure if he believed the rumors or not, but he did feel the need for revenge with every fiber of his being. He had no desire to die this day and not see his revenge carried out.
#28

Band2

Dec 11, 2008 12:03:56 		Episode 25 – The Battle Begins

Locale: The fields outside Draj
Date: Sedulous 27, Desert’s Fury, 190th King’s Age (Free Year 11)

The first wave of attackers was turned aside, as the tide broke on the barricades and was held. Anticus breathed a sigh of relief as he watched the line hold. Minutes later a second group of attackers charged forward on the left side. This attack was closer to the companions but not close enough that it involved them. However, as this attack moved forward, sling men began to hurl stones at the line of defenders both at the point of attack and on either side.

“Get down! Everyone down!” Ramsus yelled out. All of the companions crouched behind the barricade, except for Alrin-Ga who was too big. Luckily for the half-giant the fire of the sling stones was sporadic and not aimed.

When the half-giant noticed this he pointed it out to his companions.

“They do not need to hit us. They are just trying to pin us down. Stop us from helping at the point of attack,” Anticus replied.

“Still, we cannot just sit here and wait. Let’s attack!” Ral meed said. There was a gleam in his eye and an eagerness in his voice that had not been there before this day.

“No! That is just what they want us to do. They want us to leave the protection of the barricade so that they can overwhelm us,” Anticus shouted over the din of sling stones striking the barricade.

“No, look! The slingers are unsupported. They are counting on us to stay under cover and not attack,” Ral meed shouted back.

Anticus peaked his head over the barricade. The elf was right. The slingers had moved forward so that they were half way between the two lines. Except for the force that was attacking the line, no other units of the invaders had moved forward.

“It could work,” he allowed.

“Of course it’ll work,” Ral meed replied. “Ramsus look, it is always better to attack than to be timid right?” the elf said turning towards the mul, who agreed.

Ramsus, determined to show he was no coward, shouted to a half dozen gladiators to his left and another ten to his right to follow them. Shouting incoherent battle cries the four companions led the slaves forward. The enemy slingers saw the group advancing and wanted no part of a fight with them. The slingers retreated towards their lines as fast as they could, leaving Ramsus and his companions to stop and jeer at them from the middle of the battlefield.

The slingers retreat led to a general retreat as the attackers gave up their attempt to break the Draji line and fell back. The four companions and the other gladiators who had charged shouted in triumph as the attackers retreated back to their lines.

“Look, they’re forming to attack us. We have to get back to our lines,” Anticus said, as he was the first to notice.

After a pause as he studied the enemy lines, Ramsus agreed, “He is right.”

“Everyone back to the lines,” the mul roared and motioned for the men to retreat. The men did so but refused to turn their backs on the enemy, walking backwards as they continued to hurl insults at the invaders. When they reached their lines the men were greeted with cheers from their fellows.

Officers and templars began shouting at the men trying to organize them back into their battle lines. “Here they come! Make ready! Prepare for the attack! Ready yourselves!”

From across the battlefield what seemed like the entire line of the enemy forces began to advance across the field. Yelling and cursing, the invaders came on rushing across the battlefield towards the companions. The attackers facing the four companions were a savage bunch of humans, dwarves, and a few muls mixed in.

As the attackers advanced, Ral meed was pushed out of the front line because he did not have a long weapon to meet the charge with. He stood behind his three companions, bouncing from one foot to the other, filled with excitement.

“Yes, yes. Here they come. Now it’s time for some action!” the elf said to himself.

There was a huge clamor of noise as the two lines met. Ramsus felt his spear jarred as one of the attackers rushed headlong into it. The first line of attackers quickly went down, but those behind pushed forward to the barricade, and before he knew it the mul was face to face with many attackers.

Ramsus dropped his spear, thinking his carrikal would be a better weapon in a close fight. He raised it to strike, as he dodged aside a spear thrust at him and felt a club bounce off his hide armored shoulder.

The mul’s mind raced. ‘I cannot spin. With the barricade there I cannot pull the feint and upper cut. What move should I perform?’

It quickly dawned on Ramsus that all his training in the flashy fighting style of a gladiator would do him little good in this scrum of a battle. The closed quarters were too tight for a gladiator’s showmanship style of fighting. Unable to rely on his skills, Ramsus figured the best way to attack was the simplest, and just chopped down. Striking an opponent, he raised the carrikal again and struck down, again, and again.

To the mul’s right, Alrin-Ga and Anticus fought side by side. The half-giant swung his lotulis in wide arches in front of the two of them, striking down attackers as they approached. Anticus held back his attack waiting to see if any slipped past the half-giant’s aim. If so, the dwarf would thrust his weapon out like a spear to catch the attack in the chest, before quickly pulling the weapon back and readying it again.

Past these two, Ral meed fought. The two slaves in the line in front of him were hacked down by attackers, and the elf gleefully advanced into the opening and attacked viscously with his two weapons.

He struck down the first two attackers. A spear was thrust at his face, but Ral meed dodged his head aside and hooked it with his hand axe. Using it, he pulled the man forward and drove his sword into the unbalanced man’s neck. Then with a push he shoved the dying man backwards into his fellow attackers, all while a scream of excitement escaped his lips.

Despite the simplicity of his method, Ramsus seemed to be having success, as a couple of attackers lay bleeding in front of his section of the barricade. That is until he slipped. The ground had become slick with blood and Ramsus tumbled forward into a heap behind the barricade. Before he could get back to his feet, some of the invaders had crossed the barricade and climbed down, stepping on the mul in the process. More invaders continued to climb over the barricade and step onto the mul threatening to trample him to death.

Gritting his teeth, Ramsus heaved upwards with his massive strength, forcing himself back to his feet. In doing so he hurled an invader, who had been stepping down onto the mul from the barricade, back over to the other side. Then with a roar Ramsus hacked at the backs of the attackers who were pressing their attack on his friends. The surprise and fury of the mul’s attack caught the men off guard. Ramsus hacked two down before the attackers could turn to face him. The three remaining attackers were then pressed between Anticus and Ramsus.

Anticus slammed the blunt end of his lotulis into one attacker’s knee, and then quickly reversed the motion to bring the bladed end down on the man’s shoulder, felling him.

Ramsus swung his carrikal in an arc at a wild-haired woman armed with only half of a spear. His blow caught her in the neck almost decapitating her. The other attacker swung a bone sword at Ramsus, which the mul ducked under then drove his shoulder into the man.

The two crashed into the barricade. The man’s free hand smashed into Ramsus’s face. The mul ignored the blow and slammed his fist into the man’s side and stomped down on his foot. Finally, with the man off balance Ramsus pushed him over the top of the barricade where he crashed into another group of attackers.

Now that Anticus and Ramsus had dispatched the invaders who had crossed the barricade, while Ral meed and Alrin-Ga held back others from crossing, the attack seemed to lose some of its momentum. The invaders had seen the carnage the gladiators had worked in front of the barricade and began to back away. In the respite, the companions had a moment to catch their breath.

“How are we doing? Anyone hurt?” Ramsus asked.

“Only nicks and scraps. Nothing serious,” Anticus responded.

“If anyone has lost a weapon, quick grab one from one of the dead,” Ramsus suggested.

Ral meed grinned, and then turned and hurled his hand axe into the mass of attackers. After a satisfying cry of pain was heard, Ral meed said, “I seem to have lost my hand axe. I better find another.” And he began to laugh.

None of the others shared the elf’s amusement. The silent Alrin-Ga turned away.

“This not over yet,” he warned as he looked out over the attackers. Three large tareks had muscled their way through the crowd of attackers. There they seemed to be coming up with a strategy to charge the barricade. The largest tarek pointed out Alrin-Ga and indicated to the other two tareks to attack the half-giant. Next he pointed to Ramsus as if he himself was going to take on the mul. Lastly, he used the back end of his heartpick to beat three other invaders out of the line and indicated that they were to charge as well. The men cowered under the tarek’s blows and moved into position. As this occurred the companions made plans of their own.

Ramsus began to bark out orders, “Alrin-Ga, you take out one of those tareks. Anticus, you help him by taking on the other. Ral meed those three wretches are yours. Call out if they are too much for you to handle.”

“Three to one. Ha. Better ask them, ‘cause I am too much for them to handle,” Ral meed interrupted to response.

“I’ll take the big tarek,” Ramsus concluded. He had felt the fear he had felt earlier begin to leave him, leaving only cold determination. His right hand gripped the carrikal harder as he readied for the charge.
#29

Band2

Dec 16, 2008 12:34:36 		Episode 26 – Tarek Fight


Locale: The fields outside Draj
Date: Sedulous 27, Desert’s Fury, 190th King’s Age (Free Year 11)

The tarek came at Ramsus fast, swinging the heartpick in its right hand at the mul’s head. Ramsus blocked the strike with his weapon and out of the corner of his eye saw the tarek’s other heartpick coming towards his head. Pivoting on his back leg, Ramsus spun away. As he spun around to face the tarek again he swung his weapon, hoping to catch the tarek off guard if it charged him. But the attack was blind and the tarek had not pursued him.

After a pause, the big tarek came in fast again, swinging both weapons from the same side. Ramsus blocked the first one, but the second dug into the inside of his forearm where his armor did not protect him. It was only a minor wound and did not prevent Ramsus from counter attacking. He brought the carrikal down across both of the tarek’s weapons. With the weapons out of the way he slammed the shaft of the weapon into the creature’s left elbow. Ramsus hoped the blow stunned the creature and tried to follow it up with a slash to the head, but missed. The creature had taken a step back and now slowly started to circle Ramsus.

The two watched each other warily as they circled, and traded a few ineffectual strikes. Ramsus broke the stalemate and attacked, swinging for the tarek’s midsection. The blow was blocked. The tarek’s counterattack stung Ramsus on the arm, but his armor absorbed the blow. Instead of attacking Ramsus made a grab for the tarek’s arm with his free hand. For a couple of seconds they struggled against each other, before the tarek slammed the shaft of the heartpick in his left hand into Ramsus’s face. Blood spurting from his nose, Ramsus reeled back. The tarek’s follow up blow struck the mul on the side but the hide armor he wore partially deflected the blow, and the resulting wound was not deep.

Ramsus back pedaled trying to create some space between him and his attacker. As he did so the tarek pursued, forcing Ramsus to block a number of attacks. Ramsus’s counterattacks were off-balance and inaccurate.

Ramsus realized retreating was not working and decided to change directions. The tarek attacked low with a swing from the left. Ramsus stopped and blocked with his weapon. The other heartpick came slashing across for the mul’s head. Ramsus twisted away and took the blow on his shoulder. It was a good hit, but it did not affect Ramsus’s aim. As he twisted he brought the carrikal up in a vicious uppercut. The blow struck the tarek under the chin shattering the jaw and sending blood and teeth flying from the tarek’s mouth.

Ramsus followed up by pivoting on his front foot. As he spun, he delivered a powerful strike to the left side of the tarek’s head. Ramsus stepped away from the tarek, fully expecting it to fall. But it did not.

Despite the bloody mess that was the left side of its face, the tarek continued to stand. Only one eye remained, but it gazed directly at Ramsus. It dropped the heartpick in its left hand and reached up to feel the bloody mess of its face. Then with a growl of hatred it stepped forward to attack, raising its remaining weapon up high.

Ramsus stepped forward and caught the tarek’s upraised arm with his free hand. The two struggled close together. Ramsus was amazed at the strength left in the big tarek’s body. Surely the wounds he had taken would have felled a less creature. Ramsus tried wrestling the heartpick away from the tarek, but could not, so he changed tactics. With a heave, Ramsus pushed the tarek back and in the same motion brought his carrikal up to the attack. Two solid swings caved in the tarek’s chest and finally sent it sprawled on to its back.

The others had fought the tareks down, and Ral meed had faced off against the two men. His dizzying speed kept the two off balance and they could not take advantage of their numbers. By the time the last of the tareks was down, Ral meed had killed one of the men and sent the other one wounded and retreating.

*****

With the victory over the tareks, the invaders attack faltered near the gladiators. Drajan templars took the opportunity to rotate free troops into the front line, and the gladiators were give a respite behind the lines. There Alrin-Ga and Anticus tended to their wounds. As he was doing so, Alrin-Ga had a chance to reflect on the past day’s events.

He had noticed a change in himself recently. The rumbling of the avalanche, which he had felt since that first day in the arena, was gone. Instead he felt almost the opposite, the feel of the unmoved boulder, steady and solid. This seemed strange to him because of the disorder and confusion of the past few days. He was not sure why, but he believed it had to do with Anticus. Over the past day and night of fighting, he had found himself compelled to respect the dwarf’s focus on organization and teamwork. Anticus had shown these were good attributes to have in a successful battle, so Alrin-Ga was trying to follow his example.

Alrin-Ga was broken out of his revelry by Ral meed slapping him on his back and shouting out, “That was great, hey big guy. Did you see the way we sent them running? Ha. They will think again when they see us coming.”

The tall, lanky elf had remained standing while the others sat on the ground resting, so Alrin-Ga had to look up at him, something that was unusual for the half-giant.

“We all fight good. You safe us from da mens. Drive them in front of you,” the half-giant replied in a voice that was almost monotone compared to the elf’s enthusiasm.

“Does anybody know what is going on?” Ramsus asked. “Who leads this army? Why are they here?”

“If they are hear to free the slaves, we should be joining them?” Ral meed spoke up.

“But we don’t know that is why they are here,” Anticus replied.

“I’s don’t think so. Them can see us. Can see who is slave and who is not. But they still attack all same,” Alrin-Ga pronounced.

“You are wise my friend,” Anticus told the half-giant, and the others nodded their heads in agreement. “If they wanted to free us, they would not be attacking us but focusing on the soldiers and templars. What I do not understand about this army is its make up. There are tareks and elves, humans and gith. What could unite all of these groups together?”

“Maybe we should see what they have to say,” Ramsus said pointing to a group of templars that were walking behind the battle lines shouting something to the resting troops. The four could not hear what was being said yet, so they waited until the templars were closer.

“Fight for Draj! Destroy these evil invaders that wish to raze our city to the ground, burn our fields and enslave us all. These invaders will drink our blood and feed our children to the lirrs! They want nothing less than the destruction of immortal Draj and our beloved king Atzetuk! So fight! Fight these evil…” The templars droned on in this manner.

“That is a load of dung,” Anticus expounded. “I am sure they want to kill us, but these guys make them sound like evil incarnate.”

“Yeah and that is already taken by our sorcerer-king,” Ramsus replied with a laugh.

“I bet the templars don’t even know what is happening,” Ral meed suggested. “Look how unprepared this all is. They were caught off guard and are struggling. Draj is doomed. We ought to flee.”

“How?” Ramsus demanded angrily. “There is a whole army out there to stop us. How are we going to get past –” Ramsus was interrupted by screams.

*****

The screams came from the group of templar propagandists. They were being attacked by gith. A score of the creatures had used their long legs to spring over the battle front and now were attacking behind the lines. The lightly armed and armored templars were an easy target so the gith swarmed towards them.

“Come on,” Ramsus shouted grabbing his carrikal and jumping to his feet.

“Why? They are just templars,” Ral meed said with a sneer.

“Dey’re wounded over dere too,” Alrin-Ga pointed out.

“I thought elves hate gith,” Ramsus said. “Come on. Now is your chance to kill some.”

Ral meed shrugged his shoulders and went with the others. Ramsus and Alrin-Ga charged into the back of the gith with Anticus running as fast as he could to keep up. Ral meed, however, jogged slowly behind them all. It was not that he did not want to kill gith, it was just he would rather let them kill all the templars first.

He saw that Alrin-Ga was right and a few of the gith were attacking the wounded Drajan lying on the ground. ‘These I can deal with,’ Ral meed decided and broke into a run.

He approached a gith who had bent over to slice the neck of a woman. As the gith straightened, Ral meed stabbed his sword into the gith’s back, without breaking stride. The blow was not fatal and the wounded gith chased after the elf.

Only a few strides later, Ral meed slashed his axe across the side of another gith’s head, who had been too busy stabbing a wounded elf with a spear. This gith also gave chase.

Ral meed could easily outrun the gith who ran hunched over, but that was not what he wanted. Once clear of the wounded, Ral meed turned back towards the gith. Instead of running straight at them, he dodged and weaved in a zigzag pattern as he approached. This proved useful when one of the gith gathered himself and used his powerful legs to spring forward, spear leveled to attack. But the gith was confused by Ral meed’s zigzag and missed the elf completely.

Ral meed charged the other gith. They traded blows but both missed. Ral meed feinted with his sword towards the gith’s chest, leaving himself open to an over-handed attack by the gith. The gith’s serrated bone sword hissed down. The elf had been prepared for this and met the blow with his sword. At the same time, Ral meed swung his hand axe underhanded into the gith’s exposed chest. The blow toppled the creature over, with Ral meed’s axe buried in its chest. He did not have time to retrieve it as the other gith attacked, cutting the elf slightly with his spear.

Ral meed spun and swung wildly with his sword to drive the gith back. The gith hopped back then came forward again, hopping back and forth. Ral meed backed away, using his long stride to keep some distance between them.

He tried to grasp the gith’s spear with his left hand, but received a cut on his hand when he missed the haft. Ral meed was able to score a couple of shallow cuts on the gith’s arm, but was not able to strike a killing blow. Trying another tactic, Ral meed turned as if to run off again, but when the gith leaped forward to attack, Ral meed spun back, knocking its spear aside and stabbing his sword deeply into its neck. The sword jarred as it struck the gith’s spine. Down the creature went, and Ral meed felt disgust as the gith’s blood soaked his sword arm.

After retrieving his axe from the body of the other gith, Ral meed jogged back to the others. He arrived as they drove off the other gith. They had managed to save only two of the templars, one of which was badly wounded.

The unwounded templar was very young. He thanked the gladiators for their help in a nervous voice and tried to steady his shaking hand. Anticus suggested that the young templar find help for his wounded superior, while he tried to bind the wounds. The young man rushed off, but they were not able to save the other templar. He died a short time later.

The four warriors went back to where the other gladiators were resting. They sat in silence and shared a waterskin that other slaves were passing out to the fighters. Around them the fighting went on.