Shadows of the Past

After a while, you tear your gaze away from the busy people below you and walk on. It is not that far a walk before you stand at the first guard post. A small hut from wood and leaves stands next to thatched roof that sits atop the path leading downwards. Beneath it stand two rather weary looking guards of which one stares at the jungle, while the other looks downwards to the path. They both wear leather armor and hold spears with bronze tips as you have gotten used to seeing while in Tlamaca. Guards of the Wise Men then, not hired muscle, and as you look over the rim of the pit again there are quite a few. The eyes of the one looking outwards snaps to you as you walk closer and under the roof. With mud all over your legs and wet to the bone, you probably cut a rather pitiful figure.

"What do you want here?" The grip on his spear tightens just the slightest bit, easily missed had you not seen it too many times to count.

"I wished to see Xoxo for myself. See where the copper comes from. Or do you think I came all the way to bother you because of some silly rumors?"


The tenseness slowly bleeds out of him, but some disdain creeps into his gaze. "Don't play friendly here, tribal. We've got enough problems here without some woman walking around and making the workers antsy for another reason on top of that silly talk about spirits. Just stupid talk to get us distracted when the next bunch tries to make a run for it."

Without turning around to you, the other one raises his voice. "As if. It's the bandits, I tell you. They just want the Wise Men to send more of us here so that they can plunder the caravans in peace."

The man you talk to half turns around to his companion and the response sounds as if they had that argument before. "Doesn't matter who is spreading it and why, I've got enough of that. Every moron thinking himself a shaman or spirit talker comes to us and makes a nuisance of himself. That's what I care about." Then his eyes are back on you and he musters your from top to bottom. "You should just turn around an go back to wherever you came. Xoxo is no place for womenfolk."

You cross your arms before your chest and just scowl at him. You didn't walk through rain and mud for two days for this, and there are plenty of other ramps. They can't all be guarded by pigheaded idiots. "And why is that?"

There he shows his teeth, for calling that nasty expression a smile would be a lie. "Cause the workers might like you a bit more than you would prefer, if you catch my drift. Not many woman in Xoxo, and those few who come often last not long."

With every word spoken, you get the sinking suspicion that you are missing something very important about the nature of Xoxo and its inhabitants. You carefully clamp down on the questions coming to your mind and try something different. He seems to like to lecture you after all. "So I should just stay away from everyone, except the dashing guards?"

"Just stay away from the triangles. The circles a mostly safe unless a bit desperate." This time, you can't keep your confusion from showing, which seems to amuse the guard. "Ah yes, you are 'visiting to have a look around'. Consider this bit of advice your welcome present, then. Triangles are rapists and murderers. A girl should stay the hell away from those. Squares are thieves and bandits, so you just need to watch your pockets around them. We brand those shapes into their chests when they arrive, so you can't miss them. The crosses are assorted cheats and petty thugs, so not the worst sort, but they often work for others. If you want to talk to some worker while seeing the sights, pick a circle. They are just tributes from the villages and tribes who didn't meet their quotas. Decent bunch, though they rarely stay decent long in here."

The confusion slowly gives room to shock as you gaze back out into the crater at the teeming masses of humanity breaking stone with their tools. "None of these people are here voluntarily?"

"Well, would you work in this hole of shit if you had a choice about it?"

---

As you descend the path, you look around at the people in you vicinity. Mostly crosses and circles as you walk down, with a group of triangles leering at your approach near the bottom. By pure instinct, your hand goes to your knife, and you don't know if that's the reason for it, but they make no move and let you pass. Now that you know, everything makes so much more sense. You didn't notice the wide berth the other huts gave the one large building, but as you see the guards standing around it now, you understand the reasoning. Likewise, the cramped quarters are perfectly adequate when the comfort of the inhabitants is not a concern. Nobody tries to stop you as you approach, a quick glance at your unmarked chest showing that you are not their problem. You idly note some circles unpacking a caravan of what appears to be food as you walk into the house.

The hall you arrive in looks mostly like the tavern back in Tlamaca. A counter at the far end with a bored-looking man looking over the room and another tending to a small cooking oven. Around you are rows of benches, with a few traders and their guards sitting in a corner and chatting about something while some other tables are occupied with what appears to be off duty guards and a few others in simple clothes. You debate with yourself if you should order something yourself, but instead settle on eating the rest of the trail ration you had eaten from at noon. So you sit down at an empty table in a corner and get your food out while thinking about your next steps. Talking with the workers seems a bit risky after what the guard told you, and yet they seem the best people to tell you more about the rumors.

While you are distracted, someone must have come over, since the scratching of a stool on the floor is the first you notice of him. "May I sit down? You look as if you could need some company." The man before you wears a rather expensive robe, deep blue with purple trim, but it looks faded and a bit frayed around the edges beside being far less flamboyant than some you saw so far. Some grey has already settled in his mustache and the long, tied back hair.

Your greatest annoyance, though, is that he is dry. You feel as if you are more water than person right now, and cold besides. "Do I?" It is pretty unlikely that you look to be in the mood for some small talk, but he just keeps looking expectantly at you until you wave him to sit down. "And you would be?"

"My, that was indeed rude of me to not introduce myself. I'm Tezcatl, a restless wanderer so to speak and always on the search for an interesting story in this world. And you would be?"

"Wet and miserable to be honest, but you can call me Yaxkin if that's what you meant." For a moment you close your eyes and can't quite stop your lips from twitching up. You always liked a good story and the man before you seems nice enough to talk to. Couldn't hurt to take your mind of other things for a bit.

"It is not that I wish to pry, but you don't look like the others I've seen in this pit so far. If you wish to share it, I'm curious about your story, Yaxkin."

What do you answer?
[] [Answer] Write-In

Do you have questions in return?
[] [Question] Write-In

---

AN: Unsurprisingly, other people have heard the same rumors as you did and came to have a look. You can decline to answer Tezcatl's question if you want and he said himself that he wouldn't mind, but it might get him more talkative if you offer something from yourself.