Subj : CITY] Move 1a: Old Acquaintances To : All From : Andrew_S._Toth@wlm.toronto.on.ca Date : Fri Aug 11 2000 08:19 pm From: Andrew_S._Toth@wlm.toronto.on.ca (Andrew S. Toth) Subject: CITY] Move 1a: Old Acquaintances Organization: W. L. Mackenzie C. I. To: David Dror Subject: CITY] Move 1a: Old Acquaintances It has been twenty years since Samar last viewed the city of Tandagor. He's never had the experience of arriving by way of the sea, however. Tandagor's harbour is clean, one of the few such in Firyala, and a pleasant experience to say the least. Samar's ship, the Golden Gale, is a fishing boat that he'd been lucky to find down the coast. Lucky, because it was captained by a man willing to take on his horse, albeit for an outrageous cost added on. The Golden Gale coasts gently through the docks to an empty mooring right by the wall, dusk setting in beyond. The light from the lighthouse, the Light from Above, slowly becomes visible as the ropes are tied off by the two crewman, while the captain (one Wilhelm Berret) checks the nets bearing his catch. There are two large lighthouses in Tandagor; the Light from Above and the Light from Within. The Light from Above is maintained by the priests of the various Orders, and the light produced by the power of the Gods. The Light from Within is the responsibilty of the mages of Tandagor, a red glow in comparison to the other's white, produced by a combination of alchemical mixtures and magical enhancements. Samar begins to step off the boat, when Captain Wilhelm makes his presence known. 'I believe ye owe me a wee snatch o' gold, de'ya no'? An' unloadin' yer beast'll be extra, o'course.' Done the deal, disgust fills Samar's thoughts. Oh well. Pulling the horse along behind, he slowly walks through the crowd of fisherman, wrinkling his nose. Clean port it may be, but the heavy stench of fish and human sweat is never pleasant. Ah. There. The edge of the harbourfront. As he nears the road headed away from the harbour, Samar notices a strange group of people. Close to 15 people, dressed raggedly, sit on crates around a small fire in a barrel, gutting fish. They range in age from 10 to 60. Not far past them, something slimy and hard strikes Samar in the back of the head, and a fish head and skeleton falls spinning in front of him. 'A slow death to you and yours, Samar Celinael,' a scratchy voice calls from behind. Little more than 50 metres ahead lies a rather new-looking green tent, bearing the insignia of the City Guard. Samar doesn't remember this tent being here...nor the one up at the next street, nor the one beyond that. [The tents are a recent addition to the workings of Tandagor, and Samar does not remember their existence. Remember that and react accordingly.] Andrew -- |Fidonet: Andrew_S._Toth@wlm.toronto.on.ca |Internet: scott@conchbbs.com | | Standard disclaimer: The views of this user are strictly his own. --- # Origin: (1:106/357.99) * Origin: ConchGate (1:106/357.0) .