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Legends of Taltos:Nefsokar

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LEGAL STATEMENT: THE FOLLOWING GAME USES THE WIZARDS OF THE COAST PRODUCED "PLAYERS MANUAL","DUNGEON MASTER'S GUIDE", "MONSTER MANUAL", ALL 3rd EDITION.

 

ALSO USED ARE THE SOURCES AND BACKGROUND INFORMATION ON TALTOS FOUND IN "DARK HEAVEN APOCALYPSE","WARLORD", AND VARIOUS CASKET WORKS; ALL PROPERTY OF REAPER MINIATURES.

 

AS BEFORE, ANY MISINFORMATION ABOUT REAPER'S GAME WORLD IS MY OWN FAULT, SO DON'T BLAME OUR HOSTS :lol:

 

South of the Dragonspine Sea lies the cradle of Adon's civilization. The ancient kingdom of Hakir, to the west was the home of great Pharoahs, such as Khalith the Black, who gave his soul to defeat the Skoli, oh so long ago, fighting for the lost City of Adiri......to the east lies the breakaway Caliphate of Jalahandra, devoted followers of the god Ishnar. Jalahandra borders the Monglash Steppes, to the east, and the warring states of Taltos, to the north.

 

Both of these states are rich in culture, history, and the potential for trade and science. Hakir enjoys more freedom to interact with the outside world. The Bay of Serpents hosts fine trading ships, and even better pirates.... Jalahandra, however, has become more insular, as the ruling Caliph attempted to drive out foriegn influences, and turn his people more solidly to Ishnar.....

 

Then came the Re-awakening in Jalahandra...the long-prophesied return of Sokar, great god of the past. He returned to bring his people back to the fold, and reclaim that which was his......Serving him are risen Mummies, Tomb Guards, War golems, and living believers. Some still adhere, though to the teaching of Ishnar, either in the Caliph's style, or the less intense version common to Hakir.....

 

The land itself is harsh, though not without life and beauty. The Northern Garden, though, is especially prescious to Sokar, and must be restored to him soon. It now goes by the name of Taltos.........

 

PLEASE SEE THE NOTE ON OOC, AS WE ESTABLISH TWO GROUPS OF ADVENTURERS.

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The Blue Winds danced on the waves of the ocean as she gently rocked back and forth. Though not a large ship, she managed to navigate the Sea of Stars with relative ease. Her hull was sturdy, built from solid woods and cared for almost lovingly by her crew. The bustle of the crew was sounds that were almost lost amongst the creaking of the lines and the thunder of the waves as they crashed into the hull of the ship. Were it not for the iron lungs of the ships deckhands the young man on the deck could easily lose himself in the vastness of the sea.

 

Hennet stood at 5’ 9” short by average standards for a man. His attention was clearly on the sea, even as he lifted a hand to wipe the spray from the top of his chestnut brown bald head. His thoughts were a jumble of contradictions.

 

Thinking back to the previous week he wondered why the church had been so insistent on him coming on this mission. There was no doubt in his head that this of course meant there was great danger, why else would the church send him. The decadent decay had been sinking even further in the last few years and it was only a matter of time before the church abandoned all the old ways. Perhaps it was best that he was gone far from the city and their new schemes. He had heard rumbling of a return to the ancient ways, rumblings involving the raising of long dead creatures to serve the church. Such blasphemy could not be allowed in the sight of Osiris. Yet, Hennet was sure that he was not sent onto this boat for that reason.

 

The first day on the boat had been rough on the young man. His stomach had done all sorts of dances; his legs had decided to disagree with his commands of them. However, in this as in all things, those with patience and the thirst for knowledge could overcome. He had studied the deckhands and the way they moved, he had removed his shoes to walk barefoot on the decks, he had removed his cloak and amour so as not to be weighed down. In fact he had removed all the metal he wore except the symbol around his neck that would not be removed under any circumstance. By the third day his movement on the boat had improved, his legs had grown more accustomed to the rocking of the ship, his stomach had settled. Now he could understand the sailor’s life. He felt the spray on his face, the smell of the salt in the air, the solitude of the sea. His mediations had never been so enlightened, his inner peace never so strong as now on this vast sea. He was finally at peace, with himself and his world and now the true quest could begin.

 

His mind suddenly snapped back to the here and now as he realized he was no longer alone on the deck. Turning to the young lady that had come up beside him he offered a shy smile. He knew there were others on the ship, he had not been sent alone, but he had yet to meet them. The young lady was the first that had ventured near the shirtless priest.

 

“Greetings to you my lady.” Hennet says with a smile. “My name is Hennet Raslar, I am a priest of Osiris. How may I be of service?” He asks the young lady with a sincere bow of his head.

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THE DHOW:

The ship is a small one, with a crew of eight, and a dozen passengers.Lookouts are posted constantly, for the dangers of pirates alive and undead lurk ever in the sailor's minds.....and then there are the tales of sea monsters........

 

THE DESERT:

Iman bint-Talib watched the youngsters tending the flock of sheep and goats. They took their work very seriously, which is good in this land bordered by the Reven-held Monglash Steppes. She had enjoyed her stay here, but this was not the place she was seeking....making the next stop?

Before she could pack her belongings, she was approached by a village elder, leading four men and a woman, all armed and equipped for war. She heard one of the men speak of "stolen horses" and another asking "where is the tracker?".....

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Damn! The sun burns hot today. Koryx thinks to himself as he finally relents to the elements and removes his helmet. As he wipes his brow, he flicks the beaded sweat from his hand and watches with a semblance of satisfaction as it spatters the ground beneath his feet.

 

With his helmet now at his hip, the veteran warrior moves at the rear of this group assembled by the villiage elders. He stops a couple of yards from the woman the elder seemed to be seeking, and as he places his hands on his hips and looks around. Besides the villiage his eyes see nothing of concern to him, and now that a conversation has begun he shucks his shield and pack and places them neatly to his left, the shield face down to he can grab it quickly - should someone manage to get close enough to launch an attack he would need the extra protection.

 

Despite the sweat on his brow, the 6'4" fighter makes no sign that the heat of the day bothers him in the slightest. In fact, aside from the armour and weapons he wears, one might assume him totally unprepared. But the alert glint in his grey eyes tell a different story as they continue to scan the vicinity for anything untoward.

 

To further his illusion, Koryx unties the binding on his hair and after shaking some of the sand and dirt from his dark brown, almost black, locks, he reties the band and binds it away from his eyes. He'd learnt many seasons ago that ensuring his eyes were free of hair was an essential part of his war skin as his armour and weapons.

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A large brutal looking man crouches in the stern of the ship, sweating. How much longer do I have to be on this damned boat? It isn't natural to try and stand on something that isn't steady, he thinks as he takes a pull from a goatskin flask to settle his stomach. The strong liquor helps to steady his shaking hands and the fire in his throat takes his mind off his queasiness.

 

He forces himself to stand, pulling himelf up to his full 6' 7" height, and places his hands on the side of the boat to steady himself. Looking out at the water, the warrior Helt can't help but admire its beauty. At the same time, the sight makes him long for his northern home and its snow-capped peaks. He closes his eyes for a moment and imagines himself there, with his wife and children in their hut, or hunting with his clan-brothers, and he is happy for a moment. Then he opens them again and curses the dream, not for the first or last time.

 

The silent giant turns away from the sea and look over his fellow passengers. I am to travel with these to find my destiny? Gork's Claws, they don't even drink! Still, I guess I must trust them until they prove untrustworthy. He pauses in his reflection to take another swig of the strong potato vodka. He then stows it in his pack and runs a hand over his bald head. Gonna get sun-touched before too long, he thinks, feeling the burn already starting to develop.

 

Any who happen to glance his way will find the large barbarian's behavior peculiar. This melancholy behavior doesn't seem to fit his muscled, heavily tattooed and branded stature. They would also wonder why a northern clansman would be traveling on a dhow in the middle of the Sea of Stars. Little do they know that Helt wonders the same thing from time to time.

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“Greetings to you my lady.” Hennet says with a smile. “My name is Hennet Raslar, I am a priest of Osiris. How may I be of service?” He asks the young lady with a sincere bow of his head.

 

Salma was rather startled that she was not the first to speak. She had noticed the priest of Osiris earlier that day and that he too was seasick, although he now was taking some measures to overcome his malady. Unlike the others on the ship, she thought to herself that there might be some hope for this man.

 

"This must be your first time at sea, Hennet. At least you can walk the decks now, unlike that poor man there." She turned facing astern with her hands on her hips, glaring at the fair-skinned giant crouching there. "He's obviously not used to the sun or seas." She turned her gaze seaward again, not wanting to make too much unneccesary eye-contact with the irritable-looking barbarian astern.

 

"You can call me Salma.", said the lean, tawny-skinned woman; who was quite embarassed and flattered by the Priest's courtly manner. "I've sailed this sea almost all of my life, and I've seen many worse off with the seasickness than this lot. The secret is to keep your eyes on the edge of the sea where it meets the sky." Salma then stretched her arm outward in a pointing gesture toward the horizon in a deliberate manner, displaying several tattooes that she had accumulated from various seaports, supposing the Priest would take note of them.

 

"What makes you uneasy in your stomach is that you feel everything around you is moving, even though it doesn't look as though it's moving. Most people try to look away from the water, but they're the ones who get it the worst. Imagine this ship is your horse and the sea is the deserts. Keep looking out there and you'll be alright."

 

She then looked at the other passenger, a most peculiar young girl who was dancing around the decks, and most likely further contributing to the seasickness of the other passengers.

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Iman watches the youngsters I remember whn father first put me in charge of the sheep. I was so proud, but I still yearned to take the more dangeroue job of watching the horses. And yet, here I am now, far from home searching for...something. Hearing the elder coming up she straightens up from her packing and bows to the village elder "Do you require assistance elder?" she asks casually, though she clearly heard the comment about stolen horses. Straightening up she looks over the group that the elder has brought before her, looking them over. In turn they see a tall graceful dark skinned woman, with her hair braided and tied back. She wears leather armour with an well worn tan overcoat hanging loosly to the ground. On one hip she wears a scimtar, while leaning up against the side of the tent a long Guisarme rest with the rest of her weapons. She carries herself much like a sleek hunting cat, ready to spring into action at a moment. She has clearly knows why the group his here as her brown eyes shine in anticipation Stolen horses, this is something I know I can do! she thinks to herself as she wonders who, or what, has done the stealing.

 

From the shady part of the tent a black and white coursing hound stretches and moves forward to sit by the woman. It turns a pair of bright hazel colored eyes upon the group assebled before butting it's head into it's Mistresses hand looking for attention.

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Next to Koryx, Semra glances up at him and rolls her eyes. Slightly shorter than average, she stands at ease, one hand resting on the hilts of her rapier. She wears dark brown studded leather armor with the studs carefully blackened, and a crossbow is slung over her back, by her pack and oilcloth.

 

Her eyes flick from Iman to the dog without comment, but she acknowleges her with a small nod. "You're the tracker, then?" she asks, sounding annoyed.

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Hennets shy smile remains on his face hinting at a boyish charm that has not matured quite yet. “Yes my Lady Salma, I am afraid that this is indeed the first time I have ventured forth on such a vessel.” Glancing over to the horizon the young priest makes a mental note of the lady’s suggestion. “These waves seem so large at times and yet this vessel seems to adapt to them, allowing itself to bend and give at just the right moment. It is quite an interesting study. However that is not what concerns me at this moment.” The young man glances over at the very large northerner. To Hennet it is obvious that this man does not belong in the Sea or even in the dunes of the dessert. His dress is inappropriate for the climate, his weapons seem exotic in design and he keeps pulling drought from the skin at his side. Sooner or later the man will make himself even sicker then he is already.

 

“Perhaps my Lady would like to accompany me to speak with the rather large man over there.” Says Hennet nodding in the direction of the Barbarian. “Someone should warn him to cover his head before the sun creates all sorts of problems for him.” Hennet puts out the crook of his arm for the Lady to hold onto as they cross the ship to the silent giant.

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THE DESERT:

The village elder seems excited and agitated. "My Lady Iman, you are badly needed. These worthies", he bows slightly, "seek those who have stolen the chariot team of Netikerti, valuable beyond all...."One of the strangers waves him to silence. A bald, older warrior steps forward. "Are you the tracker your reputation suggests? I am Sulemain, I lead this expedition, for the glory of Sokar."

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Stepping forward Iman inclines her head to the man. "I have tracked a horse thief a time of two." she says quietly and without a hint of boasting.

LT

 

(I am of to work til 10:30 or leter gang. So no replies until tonight from me!)

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Salma goes along with Hennet to speak to the barbarian, and as they approach closer she can tell by the smell lingering around him that he was sweating alcohol by now.

 

Not caring to wait for Hennet to give the tall Northerner a priestly chastisement, she speaks first.

 

"You know..if you keep drinking like that you'll only make yourself sicker."

 

She keeps a short distance between herself and the barbarian in the event he decides to be less-than-friendly.

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Keeping to himself at the bow of the dhow, the sour looking sorcerer looks with disdain upon his less than savory shipmates. At least here in the front of the dhow, he didn't have to smell their foul odor. He quickly looks away from them and turns his gaze out to the sea watching a hawk soaring nearby the slowly moving vessel.

 

Why did the Master have to send me on this journey? And not only by wretched boat, but surrounded by these common low lives? The council had better see it fit to raise me beyond the level of mere student and grant me the title of Sorcerer. I have certainly put in the time and am more than powerful enough!!

 

The hawk in the distance suddenly folds its wings to its body and plunges to the water below, spreading them again an instant before breaking the surface of the water. It skims along the surface for a brief moment, then snaps its razor sharp talons beneath the rolling waves for an instant and rises away from the water with a large fish in it's grasp. It then flys back to the dhow and lands gingerly next to it's Master to dine on the freshly caught fish.

 

Asim watches his friend tear into the soft flesh of the fish. A Gahiji, my friend, let us hope that we fare well on this journey. If so, we will be free to truly pursue our rightful destiny!!

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As soon as Masika stepped foot on the desk this morning, she felt the sea wind and water calling to her. Being the free spirit that she is, she allowed it to take over her mind and body letting herself become one with the rhythm of the waves. She dances along the deck for hours, singing a few phrases that come to her. Her long dark hair blows freely in the wind along with her light blue robes. She stands about 5 foot tall and though she has a small frame she is not weak. Her years of dance has built up her muscles quite well. Her dance is peaceful and gentle just as the motions of the waves. She dances past each of the other travelers however full concentration is on her movements; from her fingertips down to her bare feet, her movements are exact and flow smoothly from her body.

 

She ends her dance just as easily as she began. As she separates herself from the sea she notices that she stands adjacent to a women and bare chested man who seem to be speaking to another extremely large man, especially compared to Masika.

 

"You know..if you keep drinking like that you'll only make yourself sicker."

 

"Oh yes!" the young girl gushed in agreement, her ice blue eyes flashing with excitement. "I new a man who refused to listen to all warnings of such and he became so impaired that he never left the side of the of the ship," she pause to look in the direction of another who currently grips the side of their ship. "Much like that man there," she continues softly as if afraid the man might here. "Sadly the man of who I speak was so impaired that he never saw the sea creature rise in front of him. Lucky for him I was there." She smiles proudly to each of them, "I am Masika," she says taking a graceful bow, letting the wind catch her hair and robes to blow behind her. "Oh! Look at that gorgeous hawk! I wonder why his owner sits alone. He does not appear to be sick..."

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The barbarian glares at the priestess. "Last person that tried to tell me when to drink found himself suddenly headless. I was raised on this stuff. The day it makes me ill is the day Grok calls me to his lair," he says with a hard smile.

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