As the blistering sun crept its way up the horizon, a new day in Tyr began with all haste. It is the month of Haze, just past the hottest month of the year, but if you are out in the heat it matters not for only madmen and slaves choose to remain exposed in these hottest of months. The slaves working on the ziggurat toil and die on a daily basis. Perhaps they had loved ones once that would shed a tear for their loss, but now this is all that many in the city know as life, and will be for as long as the mighty Kalak chooses to make it so.
All stories have a beginning, and this is one such beginning for the Mul barbarian named Eben. We begin his tale on the 22nd day of Haze, as he joins 5 others of vastly different backgrounds and aims, to embark on a new venture with the troubled House M’ke
The following is an excerpt from the chronicles of Eben the conqueror…
A new endeavour.
Summoned in response to a House M’Ke request I travelled to the lavish offices of House M’ke. There Helandrez, a merchant of the house commissioned myself and 5 others to find evidence of a suspected House Stel attacks on House M’Ke.
My companions are an untrustworthy elf ranger, a tiefling who claims to be a Templar of Tyr (but who trust’s a tiefling’s word), a half elf who claims to be a minstrel and a pathetic burnt man. House M’Ke’s poor fortune clearly attracts the scavengers and detritus of the city.
We were led by the merchant’s verminous half-wit Halfling assistant to a House M’Ke warehouse which had been sealed since a recent attack. We entered and found guard animals and guards slain by scimitar (House Stel’s favoured weapon) and fire magic as well as papers strewn about. The invaders were clearly searching for something. We probed deeper into the warehouse, seeing the deal of an old cult upon the floor and then hearing a rapping at a cellar door.
I attempted to proceed cautiously as per training, wary of a clear threat but the foolhardy elf pressed past and threw open the door. More than half a dozen undead spewed forth and attacked us. A battle ensued. While the elf fled like a coward at first he proved his mettle in the combat that followed, as did the rogue, psionicist and templar. The undead were foul decayed Silt Zombies! I had only heard talk of such hideous defilements of human flesh, to see one in the ‘flesh’ so to speak was unnerving to say the least. The poor Psion Redgar at one point had one of the beasts at his neck, taking a chunk out of his already badly burnt skin! I shall have to keep an eye on him for signs of infection…
We descended into the depths of the cellar and found another looted record store, between myself and the burned man Redgar we found an underground tunnel, carved by claws. Above ground we found evidence that a lich lord of the Tablelands was linked to the undead (his sign was on their hands). The so-called Templar seemed to know much of this creature. Yarnath is its name, and he rides the Tablelands in a giant animated undead fortress called ‘slither’. He can slide back to whatever stone he crawled out from under for all I care. Quite why these minions were under the control of another power we have yet to discover.
We heard a horn sounding outside, warning the city that an important announcement was about to be made, taking as evidence the torn papers and a marked hand of a former guard with us. We proceeded to the city square and heard the King’s Templar Tithian announce that a day of games would be held to celebrate the hard work of the people on the pyramid. They cheered. Then Tithian announced that the slaves would be taken from the iron mines and put to work on the pyramid. This pleased less people and the merchants the least. We spotted a small group of hooded figures in the crowd acting suspiciously. Within moments these figures let loose a series of explosive objects against the nearby guards and chaos ensued.
We were caught between some panicked slaves and guards as the rest of the crowd either tried to flee or contribute to the chaos. Initially our attempts to talk our way out came to no avail. Eventually between the half-elf asserting his apparent authority and The tiefling announcing himself as a Templar the slaves realise we do not side with their kind. We fought and they died, a fitting end for the rebellious and the weak. The guards had accepted us as allies or at least not enemies and as we caught our breath the remaining slave was taken off to a fate probably far worse than that of his now dead companions.
As the sun begins to creep above our heads its time to move, lest we get caught in another crossfire…