Journal Posts

Now we have a talking stone..
Pak'cha was moving around, arranging for, and paying for the food needed for the new addition to the clutch. Grumbling silently to himself. Stupid Halfling. better be worth all this food stuffs. He reachs for some the gemstones to pay for all the supplies, and touches the agate with a funny sigil upon it. As he touches the stone, it crumbles in his grasp, and a face appear. Pak'cha stares at the face for a moment before moving to put the face and the stone back in his pack as the face starts to speak. "You are not Othom." As he is moving to put the stone away, Anamis takes it from him, and starts talking to it. Damned devil will talk to anything. even if it doesn't have a face. Just more trouble.. Pak"cha shakes his head again, and finishes paying for all the new supplies needed with the addition of an extra body. He arranges for it to be loaded onto the skimmer, and makes his way back to the rest of the clutch.


The day moved quickly, and Pak'cha's skill at traveling soon has them moving just as quickly, eating up the miles between them and their destination. So focused on his task, so focused on taking them as far as possible without breaking anything...or anyone... is Pak'cha that he doesn't notice the danger until it's upon them. A blinding flash. A wave of... stuff. Blind, and unable to move Pak'cha struggles, as fighting breaks out. He can hear what is attacking his clutch, but is unable to do anything. Unable to move, unable to fight Pak'cha struggles. Poison leeching through him, and his chitin burning from the first onsalught of attacks, he feels the first hints of dread.

A fighter that cannot move cannot fight. A fighter that cannot fight is dead. I cannot see my foes, though that hasn't stopped me before. But being unable to move, and unable to see... How can I fight like this? So useless. So unworthy.

Unbeknownst to the deadly bug, his clutch mate Saloris surges towards him, healing powers readied, and flowing. Energy washes over him, pushing back the poison, and the burning pain. The blinding pain fading from his eyes, he can finally see his foes... and rage burns though his mind. Calling upon his mastery of the way, Pak'cha lashes out, the very air before him quaking with greenish shakes of power, as his instinctive side takes over. The crackling thunder of his assualt drives back the crystal spiders, rattling them brutally. The poison surging through him again, he barely feels the hint of power that washes over him, but is unsettled when he hears a...voice.

"Such an intense rage... But you need to control it. They will kill us if you let it go like that. Use the anger. Don't let it use you. Here, like...this"

The voice in his mind lets him see everything around him. The surging energy that bolstered his flagging body clearly wasn't his own- but he wasn't aware of the cost that was applied to give it to him. He see's through another's eyes, as Solaris falls, moments after giving him the edge he needed to break free of the glass like webbing surrounding his body, and how badly this fight was going. He reaches into The Way, and leaps into a flying special, tearing though the queen spider, and one of her drones. He flies past a swarming pile of spiders, throwing a few quick punches and kicks at them as well, though to little effect. He bodily lifts the pile of terrible beasts from beside the fallen man, and snarling, hurls them away, placing himself between his clutchmate, and the danger.
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Chapter 7: Into the Silt Sea
The very strange meeting of Theoak had the party legitimately confused. Harbek arrived at the fort too late to help them with the slavers... and returned... different.

With a good rest and recovery of the Crodlu, the heroes gathered up the necessary supplies and led the survivors of Tsalaxa Fort to the city of Samarrah. The skimmer was ready to go and the party wasted little time in packing up and continuing their journey out into the silt sea. Theoak accompanied them, seeing as he had no clue how to find his way home alone; and Harbek was still acting strangely from his encounter with the defiled terrain.

A few days out into the estuary the party had finally arrived at the mouth; gateway between the estuary and the expanse known as the silt sea. Like everything else on Athas, this was no mere delta. Rather, this jagged, rocky deathtrap was one of the most dangerous paths one could take. Many of the thruways are filled with hidden dangers and impassable razor sharp rocks. It was slow going, but the party was finding their way through. Unfortunately, the winds kept visibility to a minimum, making it much harder to spot the ambush that lay waiting.

Bursting from along cracks in the rocks were a number of crystal spiders. The entire passage was covered in the spiders' crystalline webs, making movement difficult, allowing the spiders to gain the upper hand. As if that wasn't enough, a crystal spider-queen emerged from the silt to claim her prize, killing the dwarf slave Azag. This sent Harbek into a furious rage, and the warden slaughtered many spiders standing in between him and the huge monstrosity.

It was a sickening battle, only ended by Pak'Cha's unwillingness to die, Theoak's command of nature, and Harbek's fury. With the spider queen dead, the party set to mending wounds. It was a weak victory, and the heroes knew more spiders would come if they didn't move quickly.

Nearly two days later, they finally escaped the mouth and nothingness greeted them. An endless wasteland of silt. Somewhere in this hazardous sea lie the isle of silver, and they were determined to find it...
Session: Session 23 - Sunday, Feb 17 2013 from 2:00 PM to 7:00 PM
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If it wasn't for needing ...
If it wasn't for needing to get Hargo's blade back, I would have abandoned this fool's errand ten times over. I have not had this many close calls so close together in a couple decades. Hell last one was probably right before I met Malla.

Speaking of Malla, she comes out of the hold and joins me in the shade. She tries not to make it obvious, but I can see her eyes checking me out. I've never worked up the nerve to ask if she does that because my regeneration creeps her out, or if she is just glad that I am okay. I don't know what would have happened if those bird-brains hadn't spooked and called my bluff. On the bright side being half flayed and torn open is actually a lot less painful then being burned alive.

Lost in my thoughts, I mumble that I am fine as Malla questions me about my injuries. These new robes really are worth the cost just for the fact that they seem as hearty as I am. No more hours upon hours of stitching things back together after every scape.

Sitting in companionable silence, hood down in the pleasant shade, I watch the antics of our other traveling companions. To me they are but children, but even then, in another blink of the eye they could be gone.

Were the worry lines and dark circles that bad on Solaris this morning? He took quite a beating earlier, and I suspect he isn't fully recovered from the island fight.

Pak'cha looks about at broken as I had been just a few hours ago, but he doesn't heal like I do. Does he even know how close he was to falling to his death? The scene plays out in my mind's eye a hundred times, and in each one I can't save him from that fall.

Anamis seems distracted by something of late, and his behavior has been off too. Does he harbor some iota of regret buried deep down inside about killing the other tiefling? He plays it off like he doesn't care, but I know what it is like to be the only one of your kind. If I met someone else like me...I don't think I would have it in me to kill them. Hell, I couldn't even end my brother's wretched suffering.

Crusher hides it better then the rest. He keeps busy rounding up the animals and helping the freed slaves with what he can, but I can tell he is favoring his left side, away from that horrible blow he took. Doesn't look like it broke anything, but if it was another one of them trying to walk around in that much pain they would probably pass out.

Earlier, he seemed to make a point of coming over and offering me his blood, which threw me for a loop. Of all of my companions he has always avoided me when ever he could. Was it because he has "killed" me before? Or perhaps he is just afraid of me? Perhaps since he saw me all those years ago, he has a better realization then the others that I really am not like them. I am exactly the same as I was then, on the outside at least, while he has continued to age. Was it growing older that scared him away from his glory back in Balic? After the events there last time, he does seem to miss that life. Maybe something else drove him away? I don't have the right to pry.

Glancing at Malla, I see she is either meditating or has nodded off, I never can tell with her. There are very few people who have know me for even a fraction of my life, and she is one of them. Do I trust her simply because of that fact? Maybe because Hargo trusts her? What ever the reason, it's nice to have someone watching your back.

"Would you stop staring at me. It is unnerving," Malla grumbles, eyes still closed.

Sanguine smiles and hits Malla lightly on the shoulder, "How do you always know when your being watched? That something all golith do or are you just the freak?"

"Just me. If you picking fights you must be feeling better, "Malla cracks open one eye. "I've been worried since you disappeared on us the other night."

Her head turns away from the appraising eye, "Yeah...sorry about that. I was pretty messed up, wasn't thinking straight...that ritual got in my head..." Sanguine's voice trails off and she does her best to keep it level, "Besides, no one needs to see what someone mostly covered in burns, guts spilling out, puking out silt mud looks like right?" The attempted humor falls flat.

Malla's mouth opens and closes a few times, words stuck in her throat. She has seen Sanguine take some pretty brutal wounds, but never personally seen her that bad. Of coarse, sometimes she heard the others at the Dusty Jewel talking in hushed voices:

'She got ran over by the wagon, twice! Got up and dusted herself off like nothing had happened!'

'Swear on my mother's grave! I saw that thing rip off her arm. It was busy munching down on it when she stood back up and took its head with just her other arm!'

'She grabbed on to that guy and it was like his life just slipped away. I looked at the body later, not a mark on it!'

Sanguine interrupted before Malla could compose herself, "Hey Malla...thanks..."

"For what," Malla finally turned to fully look at the tiny human girl by her side. Sanguine didn't look like some all powerful beast, she looked like a little, pale, fragile looking noble girl out of her element, just like she had for all these years Malla had known her.

"For being my friend," Malla took a breath to say something, but Sanguine rushed ahead. "I know what most others think about me. I know what they say. I know they are afraid. I can smell it on them, the fear that is. Some hide it better then others, "Sanguine's eyes flick across the courtyard at her other party members, "but you don't have to hide anything. You don't worry about me, you worry for me. Only you and Hargo do that. You both probably know more about me then anyone else, and yet you both don't run away." Sanguine looks like the wind has left her sails and she leans back against the cool stone having finally got all of that off her chest.

Malla stares in stunned silence for a moment before reaching out and pulling Sanguine into a suffocating embrace, laughing as Sanguine struggles in her death-grip, "Don't pretend like its suffocating you, I know you don't have to breath." Malla half scolds, half laughs and Sanguine struggles to try and escape her friends powerful hug.
Session: Session 22 - Sunday, Feb 03 2013 from 2:00 PM to 7:00 PM
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Epic × 3!
An infection of the spirit
Harbek made one last effort to plant the seeds of renewal. He kneeled on one knee, another foot planted firmly, and hands rooted into the corrupted land. He expended his power of wellspring, to root the primal spirit. It took all his concentration, will and even a personal sacrifice of his own primal connection.

Straining to make a lasting mark, he failed to notice what was happening. Harbek had given of himself, and in doing so, had exchanged his own primal spirit with the spirit of this defiled terrain. He jolted out of his meditation, unaware of his blunder. When he closed his eyes to sense how deep he had reached, it dawned on him what he had done.

The subtle black streaks under his skin were the first sign. Harbek felt a distance between himself and his kindred spirit of nature. All the while feeling something familiar. He knew it, but not in this form. It was the sensation of defiling, this time from within.

Harbek struggled to remain upright. He gazed out of the crater, blinded by the light. Stumbling over himself and dragging his axe through the sands, he managed to reach his riding mount. With the last strength he had, he hoisted himself onto the beast. Breathing heavy, he rested before propping his head on the neck of his animal companion. Harbek then made his way out of the crater in hopes of finding the group.
Session: Session 22 - Sunday, Feb 03 2013 from 2:00 PM to 7:00 PM
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Through the Eyes of a Beast
...Master is in trouble! Must protect! The inix tail lashes about as the best tries to move in between its master and the people attacking. It darts to and fro, trying to avoid the raining ballistae bolts and keep distance from the female attacker. It doesn't smell good. Must keep away from it! The beast shrieks when the woman turns into a blackened cloud of bats, gnashing and biting at all within her range....


Master is dead! Pale one glows... scared... hate/fear flying things... While the arakocra attack, the inix backs itself into a corner, snapping at anything coming too close.


Pale one is angry... tries to hurt... Blue-eyed one calm, smiles at.... NO NO control! Kalinth reaches into the beasts mind, sending wave after wave of calming emotions... Sleep now... blue-eyed one smiles at...


The beast snaps awake in the night; hot breath escaping from its open beak. Eyes dart back and forth. Master![I] Solaris steps out of the shadows with the leg of an aracokra and some water. [I]No, master is dead... Blue-eyes master now... The inix lowers its tail and takes its fill of food and water before going back to sleep.
Session: Session 22 - Sunday, Feb 03 2013 from 2:00 PM to 7:00 PM
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Tags: Solaris , Vignette
Another Tomb
Anamis walks amongst the corpses occasionally looking down to gaze upon the twisted broken bodies. The fight at Tsalaxa had been brutal, there was no denying that. Those who didn’t die by the groups hands were killed by a lone raging elemental. Its winds toppled walls and tossed humans like grains of sand. Survivors were few, but some did manage to escape.

Anamis finds the body of Oathem crumpled against the side of a damaged brick wall. His limbs protrude at odd angles, and his empty eye sockets weep trickles of sand. This was Oathem's fort, his solitude and protection from the rest of the world. He was walled, sheltered, and well protected, yet that seemed to matter little in the end. He now resides as the monument of this tomb, a representation of how unforgiving this world can be, and a reality for those who think they can be safe.

Anamis takes a knee, slowly running his fingers through the blood soaked sand of Tsalaxa. A realization sets in, a thought as wild and destructive as the elemental they just encountered. The sheer force of this idea takes Anamis away, back to the crossroads of his existence.


He sees his heart beating black and corrupted. The pulse is erratic, and the heart seems to be hemorrhaging black ichor. The blood spills from the heart like a sword wound seperating into two paths. One path leads Anamis to a keep similar to Tsalaxa. Its walls are higher though, and appear to be made of bone. Fresh bodies littering the compound, and off in the distance a pale devil can be seen stalking its walls. He is king here, even safer than Oathem…

The other path has more bodies. The black river runs over countless dead along this path. Travel is almost impossilbe as the river seems uncrossable, Yet at the end of this long journey a green field can be seen. Anamis Black stands in the center of this grassy field still pale and twisted looking. In his heart he knows he is evil, but somehow he has managed to save them all. This thought amazes him…

Anamis kneels in the blood soaked sand for what seems like hours, a single tear lining his cheek.
Session: Session 22 - Sunday, Feb 03 2013 from 2:00 PM to 7:00 PM
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Epic × 2!
Chapter 7: Simple Plan/Complicated Execution
While preparing for their assault on Tsalaxa's fort, the party spotted a small group of travelers heading in their direction. Two mul slaves led by a woman on an adult inix were journeying to the fort. The party wanted to ambush them, but Anamis had other plans. While the others slipped through the underbrush for a good point of attack, Anamis Black strode out into view and announced his party's plans.

The human, Arra, was a slaver of the Caranok merchants (or raiders, depending on who you ask). She was going to speak with Oathem Tsalaxa about a slave Caranok had interest in. The party offered to pay 1,200gp if Arra would accompany them into the fort, thereby granting them access. She agreed and they paid half up front.

Once in the fort, the party made a solid bluff about interest in good gladiator stock, but plans became muddled when Arra wanted to purchase the same slave, only to have him murdered. Since Kelek's death was the opposite of their goals, the party opted to attack instead. A bloody battle ensued, ending with the death of both Arra and Oathem Tsalaxa. Before they could talk down Tsalaxa's slaves, however, a massive dust devil, followed by a flock of arakocra, assaulted the fort, leaving damage in its wake.

If I'd known it was gonna be that kind of party...

The dust devil seemed to be fueled by pure rage, and had no direct interest in any of the heroes; it just wanted to cause damage and strife. After tearing through the fort it continued onward leaving the party in a bad place against the arakocra scavengers.

Bird bird bird, the bird is the word !

When the blood and feathers had finally cleared, Crusher and Anamis lay bleeding out on the walls, Pak'Cha was being hauled back into the tower through the window, and Sanguine was trying to hold her innards in until she could regenerate. The arakocra were scattered, but not entirely unsuccessful. They had managed to steal a few magical items from the party before fleeing, though their numbers had significantly dwindled.

The party would survive, however, and had been successful in rescuing Kelek. There were five other slaves, too; each of them more grateful than the next. And each had offers of their own...
Session: Session 22 - Sunday, Feb 03 2013 from 2:00 PM to 7:00 PM
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The Clutch Life...
The day starts off, as any other. The fight with the defilers done, the wounds healed. The training with with Crusher paid off. I learned a different trick, that would give my companions time to get into the fray with me. Having to learned how to help mitigate the lack of speed in my Allies, the day seemed to start off well enough.

The sight of three riders, leads to a quick discussion of if we could take them, or if we can use them to "sneak" into the fort. Clearly the idea of sneaking is lost on this Clutch of mine. Myself and Sanguine drop low, and begin to move into flanking positions, as the others move to intercept this trio of meatlings. Sanguine makes some... Horrible screeching sound, that seems like some insulting attempt at Thri-Kreen. The attempt to sneak up on them is going well... until Anamis Black stands up, and of all things starts talking to the fleshlings. Stupid Devil.

They keep talking, and the female meatling draws a whip, while the two mul flanking her draw some four pointed spears. Rising up onto a rock behind them, I make my presence known, eyeing the two muls, as well as the inix the meatling female rides. Ready to leap into action should the conversation turn sour, I wait until Crusher and the female come to a conclusion.

We ride into the fort with the woman, following behind her like hatchlings. I dislike the arrangement, but the talking isn't left to me. The clutch acts, and so I follow their actions. Riding beside Crusher, I watch as the Devil sidles up to this meatling, and talks to her... And is then interrupted by Solaris. What are these idiots doing? We could have culled this female, and her slaves, broken the inix, and snuck into the fort during the wee hours before darkness.

The discussion for buying the slaves is little more then an excellent ruse for us to get a head count on the meatlings we have to kill. As soon as the discussion devolves into violence, I throw myself up the stairs, to the nearest ballista. Bugging the machine, I unleash a pair of volleys into the ranks, sending bolts flying into the midst of the bodies amassed around my clutch. Idiot Goliaths move to try and attack me, Distractedly dodging their attacks, I keep shooting the ballista, until something screeches, and comes up behind me. A smallish drake flies at me while my back is turned... And my training with the Bulwark of a clutch mate kicks in. Holding onto the ballista with all four arms, I lift my feet into the air, and scissor kick the reptile out of the air, and into the silty moat below. As I bring my feet back down, another goliath moves in, and tries to wrench the ballista away from me. Shifting my legs once more, I lash outwards in a radial kick, throwing him, as well as his friend off into the moat.

The fight is going badly for the rest of the clutch, I leap down from the wall, and tear into the mul attacking Soloris. Ripping the flesh from the brutes throat, I ready myself to tear into the rest of the meatlings surrounding my clutch... until a Dust Devil breaks the the wall.


Pak'Cha comes to, with some meatling pulling him up off of a Ledge. He moves to draw on the power of the Way, Calling up flames around his arms as he prepares the leap off the building, and once more into the fray... Only to have the power not rise, no heat coming from the surge of energy.. A quick search of his person finds no Ki-focus... save for the old stone in his bag, a weathered leather cord strung through it.
He instead moves to help the wounded Anamis, and chatters softly to himself in Thri-Kreen, Angry, and frustrated.


Pak'Cha sits alone, at the very edge of the wall, looking outwards. His legs are folded under him, as he meditates- the stone on a leather thong in one of his lesser limbs. Sitting perfectly still, he re-attunes himself to the old stone, little more then a mundane rock... and recalls where he got it from, and what it means to him.


"That tall one just there. I will train him as well." said an older human, with bright eyes. A young Pak'cha looks at the man, a glint of defiance in his eyes, as he clicks his mandibles rapidly. He looks sidelong at his Clutch, and is inwardly pleased. They all were chosen to be trained within the Way.

The man collected them, from the pitiful hovel of a room that they were kept to, and had spent most of their lives in. He slowly paced around each of them, before passing a stone to each of his clutch. Pak'Cha eyes the stone, and is about to toss it away when the man speaks. "My name is Wilhand Swiftfists, and I am going to give you three things no one else ever will. The first, is the stones you all have now. The second, is Power. Learn from me, and I will show you how to Master use of the Way. The last thing I will give you, is a chance. A chance to change your lives, and to rise yourselves above what people think you are. Mindless, savage bugs.


Swiftfists comes at him, a furious tidal wave of flesh, fists and power. Pak'cha steadily gives ground, lashing back at his mentor, feeling the baser instincts of his race rising within him. His attacks take on a faintly greenish glow as instinct take over, and he responds instead of replying. Instincts scream at him to press the attack, and mindlessly he follows their commands on his mind. He tries to slip under his mentors defenses, and is quickly thrown onto his back, a trio of heavy strikes knocking the air from his lungs and leaving him flat on his back. "NO! You are -still- letting your rage control you! Use your control, or you will never rise above the bug in your mind." Swiftfists snarls in passable Thri-Kreen. The older man pull him to his feet, and continues, in Thri-Kreen. "What is your best weapon, Pak'cha? He replies in sullen tones, huffing slightly, out of breath, where his mentor seemed as tireless as ever. "My mind. My control. Rage is a weakness, that saps my power, and leaves me open to attacks. Pak'cha rattles this off, ever the student. He looks down at his mentor, and asks in common, "But if I can use the anger... And let it flow through me, couldn't that give me even greater power? It would let me destroy my foes more quickly, so there would be no need of any defense. The dead cannot attack you."

The aged human simply shakes his head sadly, and pats the tall bug on the shoulder. "IF you could control your anger, Pak'cha... But your rage is simply too great for you to control. Build your control, and then you you might be able to channel your anger into being useful. But that control must come first. And it must remain while you use your anger. You must use the anger... And not let it use you. Enough sparring for today. Run the course, and don't let Pik-ik-cha see you this time. Then you can rest, and we shall continue in the morning."


Pak'cha Turns, and looks down into the fort, at his friends. His eyes move to where he knows they are, and linger for several moments. He speaks softly to those that are no longer with him, his voice weary with sadness "Use the anger. Don't let it use you. This is my clutch...

His heart aches for his own kind, tired of these slow and bumbling fleshlings... even as his fury rages silently under the surface for his doubt in his current companions. His control wars with his instincts, the steady blue hum of control in his mind throwing back the shifting green mass of instinct, once more.
Session: Session 22 - Sunday, Feb 03 2013 from 2:00 PM to 7:00 PM
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The dead and their secrets.
Solaris looked at the inix sitting in the corner of the keep and finished calming the beast after the hard fought battle at the fort was done. After taking a moment to ensure the beast was calmed enough to not at least not pose a threat to others not actively bothering it and hopefully even usable as a mount later on with some further effort on his part. He sought out and asked Mala to keep an eye on it trusting the goliath would have enough respect for the beast to not antagonize it and keep it calm while being strong enough to protect herself if it came to it. With that done he quickly set off with purpose to go and find the body of a slaver, one that had in their brief time together given Solaris a piece of information that had long stayed hidden from his former mercenary group the Desert Shields. That there had been more to the attack that had destroyed them then petty revenge on the part of raiders, that there had possibly been a conspiracy in play and Solaris intended to find it's orchestrators by what ever means he could.

It was nearly an hour later when Solaris walked up to Animus and looked over the warlock who seemed to still be recovering from their hard fought battle, "Animus, I have special need of someone with your... talents. If you don't mind, meet me in empty slave barracks towards the back of the keep. Also, come alone."

Solaris stepped into the slave barracks and looked around, Much of the furniture (what little there was) had been forcibly pushed to the sides of the room to make room in the center where the slaver's body lay prostrate. Solaris examined the body and noted it was fairly intact and heard Kalinth speak, Are you sure you wish to do this? Solaris looked down at the body and felt anger and disgust both rise within him as he knew what he was contemplating, the disgust however quickly gave way to a desire to know more and nodded. "Yes... Let us get started and learn what we can now while we wait for the warlock." If he shows at all...

Kalinth closed their eyes and reached down to grasp the corpse and began to channel energy into it, subtly at first then slowly with more force. The room began to fill with energy and started to pulse with raw power until with a sudden crack that sounded like lightning the corpse jerked and it's right eye opened while Solaris's left eye opened, both eyes aflame with blue energy. Solaris's body seemed to stare vacantly into space before speaking, "The warlocks magic worked as suspected and did more than kill her, it fragmented her soul, Fragments which have yet to disperse. So long as we maintain this connection, they should remain..." the corpse then spoke with an raspy voice, "Then there is a chance at finding what is sought. It will be hard though. Her soul is like a clay pot that has been shattered by stones..." Solaris's body then spoke again, "Let us hope the warlock comes then. His other half may allow him to help us sift through her soul's remains to find what we seek." At those words silence took over the room.
Session: Session 22 - Sunday, Feb 03 2013 from 2:00 PM to 7:00 PM
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Places you don't want to go
If there is one thing that I hate, it is not having control. Control over myself, control over a situation, or control over my own destiny. Right now, we are risking our lives over something that doesn't involve us, when we should be focusing on the task at hand, but there is no swaying Malla when she sets her mind to something. So here I am.

I can only hope I don't regret this more then I already do.
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Ash to Soil; Nature's alchemy
Harbek stood in the crater, braxat corpses motionless next to him. The rush of visceral combat had him focused on slaying his target. He wasn't able to end the defilers, but his trusty companions were there at his side to ensure a quick end. Harbek's heart settled. His eyes scanned the surroundings, and he recalled why he had been thrown into a rage.

The defiling. It had destroyed what little was left of this already-barren land and turned it into, what felt like, a void. It was empty of all. Harbek's slow heartbeats echoed out in the spirit world. His companions' too, at least it seemed they were all there. Malla had a look of disgust, and gazed out towards her goal.

"Malla, I cannot come with you. I have work to do here. I have spent so much time killing the cause, I have forgotten what I have to do to heal the wounds. You won't need me, in person. My spirit will support you from here, and their powers will wain, as their hold on nature does." Harbek uttered those final words before falling silent. He kneeled in the ashes, and begin his meditation. What followed was nature's own method of recycling the dead. Wind began softly sweeping the ashes, insects emerged to eat the decayed material, and the sands started to return to their original form.
Session: Session 21 - Sunday, Jan 27 2013 from 2:00 PM to 7:00 PM
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Tags: Defiling
Rage is one Hell of an Anesthetic
Solaris stood quietly on the docks reflecting on the previous day's... and night's events. His hand rose to his neck and touched the small bone token that hung around it now, a token from Brinna so that he might not forget her and the time they spent talking with each other. I thought it was so you two didn't forget the unarmed 'sparring' you two did said Kalinth with a bit of mirth. A small smile graced Solaris's face as he continued his reflections, a smile that wasn't missed by Sanguine as she walked up to him on her way to the skiff, her looking him up and down with a knowing eye not being missed. With a nod of the head he followed her quietly onto the skiff.


Solaris sat upon his Crodlu and looked out at the two humans riding the braxat's and felt a rage build within. Harbeck had pointed out the signs of wanton defiling they had passed through and now seeing these two human's Solaris growled out one word "Defilers." Memories suddenly came unbidden to him, memories of his squad, friends, brothers and sisters in arms being struck down, unable to resist the foul magics ravaging them. Memories of Brinna being struck directly by defiling magic and laying prone, blood pouring from her face. Rage suddenly surged within Solaris and he knew that soon there would be death.

With a quick nudge he sent his Crodlu charging across the plain and drew his Trikal, letting loose an anger he knew was likely being fueled by Kalinth's own hate for defilers. The defilers seemed surprised at what they likely took to be an impertinent fool of a bandit and one casually dismounted and let loose a torrent of flame that erupted from the ground and engulfed Solaris and his mount. A sly grin appeared on the defiler's face for but a moment until he saw Solaris break through the flame, blue energy wreathing his body and rage clearly evident on his face mere moments before the beast and rider crashed into him taking him to the ground. It was only the intervention of the defiler's braxat that brought the furious assault to the end, by viciously swatting both Solaris and his mount away from its master. Solaris landed hard on his back and sudden blast of energy came forth from him and enveloped the braxat and its defiler as his eyes suddenly came alight with a blue fire and Solaris's mind left the fight.

Kalinth felt himself suddenly in control, pain coursing through Solaris's body as the full effects of the Braxat's hit were made known. Having difficulty standing, Kalinth heard his comrades engage the Braxat's and their riders and reached out through the field to take stock of how things were progressing. The braxats, though juveniles, were fearsomely strong and struck hard and fast, Kalinth quickly marshaled his power and used it to rally his allies and keep them fighting as he struggled to his feet. With a grimace Kalinth pushed through the pain and remounted his Crodlu and pushed himself back into the fray, eager to help end the defilers and their existence and take what measure of vengeance he could for the dead.
Session: Session 21 - Sunday, Jan 27 2013 from 2:00 PM to 7:00 PM
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Dark Sun
Ode to Dark Sun

A life lived, with little love
Trying to survive, no help from above
Body, mind, both flayed and broken
Emotion killed, atrocities unspoken
Devils laugh, play and dance
This world is ruined, it has no chance
Mothers cry, sacrifices in vain
Their children will never escape this pain.

The poisoned sun sinks lazily behind the dunes. Its bright burning rays illuminate Tsalaxa for only moments, before cloaking it in shadow. Anamis stares into the horizon, the wind nipping at his cloak, his shadow growing larger. He briefly wonders what awaits them in Tsalaxa, but he knows the truth. It will be another tomb, either for him, or for those he will kill. More bodies, more waste. He sighs regretfully, for he knows this game. It’s one he plays well, but wishes he didn’t. Maybe this time he would let a sword slip past his guard and pierce his black heart.

Moments later He chuckles to himself, quickly regaining his composure. Remorse is weakness, like a thorn driven to far into the skin. If you don’t remove it, it will cause infection.

Anamis begins walking back toward his companions, singing a light tune along the way.
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Chapter 7: Quan's reQuest
Following the battle and a good rest, the party prepared for their trip to Samarah. It would be the last stop for the party before leaving the estuary for the sea of silt. Unfortunately, their hope for a quick stop was met with distractions in the form of one of Crusher's old acquaintances.

Quan One-Eye needed the party's help to save his kidnapped son from a group of house Tsalaxa slavers. The party was reluctant to help until Malla explained that the Templar who killed her mother was from house Tsalaxa. With that said, Harbek was on board and the others didn't want to wait in Samarah for a few days.

Quan's friend Avgar supplied the party with war crodlu and the party was off across the desert. The first day's trek was easy, prompting an extended push into the night. When they did finally stop, rest came quickly and, along with it, an ambush by belgoi!

Jingle bells! Jingle bells!

Although the belgoi made a solid attempt at capturing the party, they were utterly outmatched and quickly put down. With the caller being silenced, any remaining belgoi made a quick escape not to be heard from again.

The next day was hot, but otherwise an easy travel. At least, it was easy until Harbek began to notice pools of ash scattered about the landscape. "Defilers." the dwarf said, as he pointed to a pair of humans mounted upon braxat juveniles. The humans bore Tsalaxa sigils and appeared to be scouts. They were nearing the fort.

Solaris shouted in rage and led the charge. While his assault was mostly successful, both Crusher and Sanguine found the Braxat to be quite the impediment. It took the party working closely together to bring down both the defilers and the braxat. Sanguine considered it a good learning experience for when she got her revenge on Praetor Haraxes.

I'm the Juggernaut, Bitch!

With the defilers bleeding out and both braxat broken, Malla suggested they find a place to rest and mend their wounds before approaching the fort.

Until next week...
Session: Session 21 - Sunday, Jan 27 2013 from 2:00 PM to 7:00 PM
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Memories of the fallen...
Traveling to Samarah wasn't all that hard. No harder then any travel in this terrible land. We made good time, though we dug into the final supplies we had from the 'Jewel. The others do what they can, but they aren't Thri-Kreen when it comes to traveling. But they are hardy enough, and with my help, we make better time then most do. With Blackroc behind us, and the fight with Skullwearer forgotten, I look forward to this trip, despite the dangers it represents.

We meet with a seedy little man, hardly worth the trouble of breaking his neck. He is evidently the one we must talk to in order to be supplied for this trip. Luckily, they value gems here more so then other places. This will give us an edge on buying our supplies. A large one-eyed meat bag approaches Crusher, during the bickering of trading goods. He speaks in low tones to the mountain of the man that is my brother in arms, and spirit. A single glance between us is enough to convey that Crusher is fine, and that this bag of flesh and bones is no threat to him. They leave the room, and despite the urge to follow them, I stay to continue to haggle with the seedy man.

We agree to a good price on the supplies we will need in order to make this trip, and I can tell from Crushers demeanor something that took place has bothered him. He speaks to Malla, and tells her that he will not continue on with us. Clicking my mandibles in irritation I think I know what's happened. Another wordless glance, and it is clear that Crusher will not journey alone. Before I can speak, Malla says much of the same. I ask my meaty clutch-brother "Is this something that is needed, or something you simply wish to do?" He replies in the same tongue "It is needed."

I shrug, and nod simply. In common, I say "I will stand with you" after Harbek, and Malla both agree that they are going.

Voices in the dark. Familiar voices. Voices that belong to those that are long dead, and left behind. Voices of my birth clutch.Pak'Cha, come here and see what you think of this!" At'cha, My clutch sister. Her slender body, and fluid arms. She mastered The Way, in a manner that I could never understand. Healing even the most grievous of wounds, time and again bringing me back from the brink of death. Studied in all thinks dark, and arcane, she lightly touched upon the way of the Arts, as easily as she did with The Way. Why would she be asking me for help with something that is clearly magical?

A dull ache wracks my mind, as the voice wavers, and her tone suddenly changes. Instead of the steady chattering flow of her voice, it comes differently. The screeching that meat bags think we Thri-Kreen speak in. Shaking my head, I see some -elf- looking scum. Ringing some little bell, and pointing at me, and the others of my clutch.

Rage. Rage fills my soul, and the Focus stuck under my Chitin Bursts into flames. My fists and feet coated in a furious flame, I tear into the false clutch members. My instincts screaming at me to not attack those of my Clutch, I grimly press onwards, knowing the trick for what it is. Laying low two of the bastards around me, I tear into the third. Pain wracks my body, and gives me something to focus on. Still being assailed by the fake images and sounds of my past clutch, I struggle to defend my current one. Me heart beats once...Twice... And when I look up again, I once more tear into the fool trying to use my past clutch against me. Calling upon the Way, I lash out, my fists tearing into the very air before him. The screaming clap of air slams into the worthless meat sack, followed by a quick washing wave of fire. His life snuffed out with the force of the direct attack, I turn to see my Clutch having much of the same success, the last foe falling before I can even move to aid them.


After beating the defilers, and their massive ilk, Pak'cha agrees with the suggestion of resting the night here, before attempting to take the fort. He finds Crusher, and nudges the man faintly. He speaks in the steady chattering of his native tongue. Hey. I think we need to work more on better coordinated. I don't mind being the first into the fray, nor do I mind taking the hits. But I can't keep this up.. You move too slowly. So do the others. It isn't your fault. But it is still true. We need to train together, further. I need the endurance you carry in spades. And maybe you can gather of my my fluid speed. Hammer to Anvil, we need to work together. What do you say?
Session: Session 21 - Sunday, Jan 27 2013 from 2:00 PM to 7:00 PM
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