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 Posted: Mon Sep 30, 2013 5:28 pm
In the prologue of his memoir, Zek Swiftride What would you do if you were dying of thirst?
Would you explore vast deserts for water?
Would you fight for it?
Would you kill?
Welcome to Mimir, land of eternal sun and death.
It is endless sand, stretching beyond the horizon. The landscape is barren, save for rocky outcroppings and pitiful villages. When the harsh light is not beating down with its killing heat, freezing temperatures reign and assure that life will not prosper.
Every person alive on this planet is earching for the same thing - water. And there is only so much to go around. Squeezers are the primary source, making water from precious stones. Well, the rich can afford this. Then they charge whatever they want for access to it. And if you're an unlucky and poor b*****d, you gotta pay. Either pay, or work for them. You go out in the desert, among the beasts and weather, and mine for the stones to create the water that you aren't allowed to have, unless you give up every penny you earned just to survive.
Is it fair? Nope. Is it our life? Yep.
Well, not mine. See, I'm a Sand Surfer. Those guys pay me to go out and find aquifers - it's cheaper than a Squeezer. And I'm good at it. I have to be, or else they kill me and take back their money. If I don't find one, I don't come back. If I don't come back, I might die. See how I got so good?
Anyway, that's my story. Now I gotta get going. Bertha is getting antsy to leave again. Maybe I'll find the Big One today. Ha! I make myself laugh.
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Posted: Tue Oct 01, 2013 5:17 pm
The Sacrificial Father
Your family is suffering. You need water. What will you do for it? Pay a Sand Surfer, work for the rich, or kill and steal it? Your wife begs for you to save your daughter. Your child doesn't have much time left.
Zek Swiftride, the Sand Surfer
Zek doesn't take kindly to anyone that threatens him, or insinuates that his skills are lacking. Many have learned that you would do well to simply pay him and back off.
The Scrupulous Merchant
You listen to survive. Observation is the key. Any nuances you can detect in the constant ebb and flow of trade is a step up on your competitors.
The Wealthy Tycoon
You've done it. You've established a network of money-makers beneath you, so all you have to do is kick up your feet and feast to your heart's content. At least, you think you can relax...
The Breeder
XSenkoX  Majid learned young that taking life too seriously only makes everyone miserable; if you have to live in a s**t-hole, you might as get some laughs out of it.
Fortunately, he's got the bulk that makes people inclined to agree with him at least so long as he's within earshot.
The Squeezer
You're the most important resource this planet has left. You've been gifted with the power to turn Rainstones into water, and keep civilization alive. You are either revered or coveted by all. Who will you pledge your loyalty to? The people, or money?
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Posted: Tue Oct 01, 2013 5:25 pm
Rules
All of the standard rules apply.
~ No GMing (This includes assuming even that you're weaker.)
~ No making huge plot devices without my approval.
~ Blah blah blah post size. This one I'm lenient on - quality, quality, quality. It helps conversations move along if you do it outside of the RP and put it all in one post. I can assist anyone who thinks they can't find anything to say.
Mostly, I insist on trying your best. If I feel you aren't up to snuff, I'll give you several examples and even go so far as to proofread your posts a few times. I don't pretend to be a master, but I want people around where I sit. This goes for me. If you're better than I am, and I need improvement, feel free to PM me!
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Posted: Tue Oct 01, 2013 5:29 pm
Where We've Been
We haven't been anywhere yet!
Where We Are
Bah, haven't you learned anything?!
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Posted: Tue Oct 08, 2013 8:28 pm
Zek Swiftride
Zek wiped the already beading sweat from his brow, and gave the saddle a few good pulls. Everything secure, he pulled himself up the short rope ladder. He then went through his routine of winding up the ladder, attaching it to his saddle, adjusting every strap, and assuring that all was tightly bound. He couldn't risk losing his water skins without realizing it.
Zek gave Bertha three hard pats on the neck, and she lumbered forward. Three meant trot. At least, as well as a fifty foot long lizard can trot.
Zek scanned the desert with light purple eyes, hidden behind a pair of heavily tinted goggles. His short, black hair waved with reckless abandon in the dusty wind. He would need to cover his head if a storm came, but for now he enjoyed the breeze. It was only mildly blazing hot rather than scorching.
A robe of dark crimson sat splayed out across Bertha's back. Underneath it he wore a rugged off-white shirt and loose black pants. All of his clothes were made of Kai hair, scratchy but tough, much like softer burlap. He was fortunate that he could afford to dye it. Peasants wore only brown.
Bertha was a different matter. She was a Plate Lizard. Resembling an over-sized monitor lizard but covered in inch-thick plates of hide, tan-colored to match their environment. These scales defied all erosion due to sand and high winds, could not be pierced by tooth or knife, and kept her soft skin underneath from losing water to evaporation. Plate Lizards did not urinate - water was too precious for that. Instead, every nutrient in their food and water is sucked away, leaving nothing but a fine dust to blow away in the wind. They were a prime example of evolution in its highest form. The desert was their oyster, so to speak.
This made them perfect as mounts, for those who could stomach the swaying motion of their spine.
Today, Zek was returning home. A day's journey, time to reflect. Six months had passed, enough for a great deal to change in his village, Kargesh. There were only about a hundred residents, and even then it was still a larger settlement than most. Without family to worry about, he wondered about the merchants. Who was the new alpha among them? Which one dealt in saddle parts? Would he have reasonable prices, like the last one?
Further from practicality, Zek's mind wandered towards thoughts of a woman he had wanted to court. Her name was Saila and was from a rather affluent family, and so probably hadn't migrated towards a town in need of work. She still worked hard as a clerk of the hostel her house owned, though. He hated women that lived in complete luxury. They felt entitled to everything. Including relationships.
Zek and Bertha trudged on until after sunset, content in the silent company of each other and the dust-laden breeze. It took them quite a while to notice that the occasional stronger gusts were becoming more frequent, slowly but steadily. It was as the sun's last rays vanished from the land that Zek observed this. It might have been brushed off with ease as nothing but a miniature whirlwind, but it was as he descended from Bertha's back that he noticed the horizon. Stars poked through the ebony fabric of sky all around, except for the east. All he could see was darkness, like a gaping maw slowly opening to descend upon him.
A panic rising within his chest, Zek scrambled among the satchels on Bertha's flank and pulled out a strangely shaped harness. He put most of the straps around his torso. Four of them, two near his shoulders and two near his knees, were left over. Zek crouched low to get under Bertha, and turned to attach the available straps to clips hanging down from the saddle. In this manner, he arranged to be secured along the underside of Bertha, face towards her belly.
Plate Lizards had a line of defense against these sandstorms. The plates' rocky texture became glossy, as hers did now, until they were pressed flat up against her body as smooth as polished glass. This, as well as armoring her against the sand, served to deflect wind, and it passed like a stream over pebbles.
And like this, she would continue to stand until the storm passed. Never moving or wavering. They did not defy the storm, but let it roll from their backs and thus could not be picked up and blown away. Human dwellings had developed to mimic this habit, nature's answer to the fury it created.
In the pitch blackness, nothing could be heard, only felt. A tempest roared around Zek, buffeting him with stinging debris and savage wind. Rumbling and hissing bombarded his eardrums, his breath stolen by the wind. If he had been a traveler out alone, he would have had to tie himself to rocks. But the force generated by these gusts were more than capable of tossing a stone formation to the earth.
Only by cutting the wind would you survive. Only by bowing to the might of Mimir.
In the darkness, they waited.
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