Stranger in a Strange Land: A Narrative Quest

[Cetashwayo]

You wake up in a haze. The first thing you feel is a strange sort of tickling near your nose.

When you manage to pry open your eyes, a little cockroach greets you, and instinctively you squirm away.

That's all you can really do, squirm. Pain at your wrists indicates something you may have already assumed- you are shackled, feet and hands. When you manage to pull yourself up a few things are also apparent. The first is that you're in some sort of mud-brick home, behind iron bars and tied to the wall. The second is that you can remember almost nothing, and bringing up past memories only encourages pain in that cranium of yours. The third is a comfortable enough reality; that you know your gender. Indeed, you are a

[]Man
[]Woman

As you begin to collect yourself, some of your memories return to you. For one thing, you recall that before this unfortunate incident you were

[]A guardsman garrisoned by the Grand Mare in the eternal desert. You joined the colonial oppressors as a way to find a better life and free yourself from past debt obligations and the stifling nature of colonial village life. You have a bit of superiority complex over the other uncivilized peoples, though. After all, at least you are literate! The last thing you remember before waking up is a salvo of cannon fire from some bandits at your fort and darkness.

[]An aristocrat from the Heigeldag, you sojourned to the Eternal Desert with a vast entourage of archaeologists and guards to find the ancient ruins of Babarak. You are an eccentric with a large purse and delusions of grandeur, but delusions cannot defend you against the desert's perils. You do not remember what happened to your digging team or your romantic partner, who tagged along, excited at your promises of glory.

[]A caravan merchant from the Szenzhou League, you went on behalf of Mingguo city to the oasis town of Talamakan with your small company. Bolstered by the city's finances, you were to bring indigo from your finest wool in exchange for a local plant, Mersur, an opiate known for both its ability to induce an amnesiac high in small quantities and its addictive nature. You are wily and cunning which is why you were chosen to make the trip, but also a bit of an addict yourself. You were ambushed on the route and your caravan presumed slaughtered.

A man bursts through the door, dust flying everywhere. To your enlightened, civilized eyes he is nothing but a savage, but then again you're a foreigner who is shackled in the corner of a hut. You soon decide the most irritating part about this swarthy rube is his omnipresent grin as he looks you over, standing by the cell. The wait until he speaks seems agonizing, but then again, would you even be able to understand the guttural tones of this brutish goon?

 

[Cetashwayo]

Reserved for table of contents when we get that far.

 

[Cetashwayo]

[X] Woman
[X] A Guardsman

Won. It was close so I will be sure to incorporate our manly merchant sometime in the future

---

Finally, you grow tired of his insipid silence. In a hoarse voice you shout, "Where am I?" Your captor holds his grin and walks closer to the bars of the cage, his eyes cruel. "Girl", he grunts in a rough version of your Mazriki tongue but with all its smoothness replaced by the gritting of a savage, "You are in the care of Halab. Halab will protect you." He adopts a predatory smile.

"Where. Am. I." You repeat again, louder. You may have been just a colonial garrison guard, using it as a vehicle to get out of your rather uninviting home environment of a poor village along the world river, but you weren't going to be harassed by some upjumped beast straight out of the stories you exchanged with your friends at the front. Well, if you had friends...

[] At the Fort you were the center of attention for your fellow guards, the funny gal from the Mazriki marshes who could take more mersur than seasoned addicts and come out of it memory intact. As a result, though, you made some enemies there as well as friends.
[]At the fort you were more of a loner. You preferred to keep yourself closed off to everyone else, as if they didn't die in some botched raid they were liable to desert into the desert, never to be seen again, or overdose on mersur and forget how to speak, becoming a gibbering animal.

The smile drops and you wish it hadn't. He grabs you by your collar and holds you up. "Stupid girl. You will listen to Halab. You are in the root of the world. We are hidden against the Heshvans. If you do not want to die as well, you will listen." He fishes something out of the pocket of his robe-it's your passport! The stamped paper, with the ship insignia of the Mare evident in dark red, is the only thing distinguishing you from this unabashed swarthy devil before you- after all, in the Mare hierarchy, you're quite above these tribals!

He sees your shock and dangles the damned thing like bait in front of your face- but you can't reach it, no matter how hard you try. After he's had his fun, he adopts a more serious look and drags a crude stool over from the corner of the room. "You will pay off my debt, and Halab can go home. I must sell the slaves or they will take my wife and my children. You must understand, girl. Halab does not want this, you see." He stares at you, as if you should honestly consider this paltry excuse for a human being as anything less than a faustian slave driver. And yet, there could be a possibility...

[] Try to sympathize with the slaver
[] Blow him off

 

[Cetashwayo]

X] At the Fort you were the center of attention for your fellow guards, the funny gal from the Mazriki marshes who could take more mersur than seasoned addicts and come out of it memory intact. As a result, though, you made some enemies there as well as friends.
[X] Try to sympathize with the slaver

Sorry Lurker, Halab is just too attractive of a man, truly a charming and tragic figure.

--

You soften your gaze and play it up like you did when you acted out with the other guards at the fort. "I understand. How can I help?" Shit, he's wearing the grin again.

"Halab has a job for you. Halab has an idea, he'll do it tonight. He will be having mersur and tea with his partner and there we will kill him, you see? You will distract him, I will say you are a house slave I bought. And I will come behind him and stab him, yes?" He suggested. You nodded but something seemed didn't fit.

"Your partner?"

Halab shrugged. "He's my cousin."

"I thought he was your boss?"

He massages his forehead. "He's my brother."

Well, that changes things a bit. Indeed, it takes you back. In your own family,

[] Your brothers and sisters died early of Measles; you were alone with just your mother and father
[] The eldest child, you had to teach your younger brother and sister how to survive and work in the village
[] The youngest child, you were ignored by your parents and had to fend against your older siblings through determination and willpower.

"Look," Halab starts, "I need to kill him. He is not a good brother. He leaves for three years and when he comes back he forces new traditions on us. He imprisons my wife and starts raiding everyone for slaves. He will bring Heshvans down upon us."

Great. Intrigue in the orient. "Give me my freedom and I'll help."

He nods vigorously. "I will do this. You kill my brother, I let you go. Good deal, great deal." He begins to undo your chains but pauses. "One more thing, girl. What is your name? You must have a name when you go before my brother. He does not speak to slaves without names."

What is your name? You dig through your memory to figure it out.

[] Renaparissa: In Mazriki society, proper names are given when a child turns six, and are actually sentences in their own right. Renaparissa means "Daughter of Beloved Rena", a famous matriarch in your family. Known as a cunning and dangerous woman, Rena made the family powerful and even held control over the village for some time before her successors undid her good work as she made many enemies. When you joined the colonial garrison, the Eyelate office changed your name to Rena Parsa.

[] Maryalaya: "Great is the name of Marya". Marya is your grandmother. Presumably still alive, her knowledge and wisdom surpassed everyone in your village, and her kindness accrued many favors. Your name was changed to Marya Ayla by the Eyelate Office when you signed up.

[] Sitatara: "Sita is the wisest one". Sita is a famous teacher among your people, the founder of the Naisi, the order of women who travel from village to village and teach children. When the Naisi visited your village around your sixth birthday and you were formally educated by them, you chose to take the name. Before the Naisi left they taught you the most important thing in life is knowledge, and never to give up without a fight. Your legal name is Sita Tara.

 

[Cetashwayo]

[x] The eldest child, you had to teach your younger brother and sister how to survive and work in the village
[x] Renaparissa: "Daughter of Beloved Rena", a famous matriarch in your family. Known as a cunning and dangerous woman, Rena made the family powerful and even held control over the village for some time before her successors undid her good work as she made many enemies. When you joined the colonial garrison, the Eyelate office changed your name to Rena Parsa.

wins.

--

"Rena." You spit out reluctantly. "Rena Parsa." Halab bobs his head up and down like a madman and then opens the cell. You spot a piece of flint on the ground. Maybe if he comes a bit closer...

He reaches out for your shackles with one hand, but then you feel something cold press against your head. "Nice try, girl." He says with a grating amusement. "But I have a gun, and you have none. Get up." He undoes the shackles on your feet and the rope tying you to the wall...but leaves the ones around your wrists.

"I am no stupid man, and you are still a slave." With that, he takes your passport and holds it in his hand in front of him, squinting as he glances between you and the paper. "Yes, you look like Rena. Now. I will tell you what to do. In one hour I will be ready. For now you must not make him suspicious. You will go and fetch water for my wife in the prison, slip it through the bars. The guards do not care but it will make them know that you are my slaves." he explains to you as he pockets the passport.

Damn it. You need that passport. Otherwise you may as well be an unperson in the eyes of the Mare Mazriki Eyelate. You'll never be able to get back home, really. But what is home for you?

--

[] Home is your homeland. You are above all a believer that the Mazriki must be free one day from the Mare, or at least have a greater say in their own affairs without having to send all the tax collected to the Porte. You have a deep love for your people's culture and traditions, even if some of them are antiquated, and are part of the new language of nationalism in your mother country.

[] Home is your family and friends. Your mother and father, brothersand sister, which you hope to return to one day. As the eldest child, you were in fact entitled to continue on the family and receive the inheritance, though the Naisi would take a tithe and your younger brother another part. Your friends, too, which you should really try finding. They were sold too, after all.

[] Home is your religion. An Artemesian Sellanian converted along with much of the Mazriki half a thousand years ago, your people believe in the First Flame of God, your sole deity manifesting itself in the form of sacred fire, and its eye, the beautiful Simurgh.

--

After taking away the passport Halab gives you a shawl to cover you, a waterskin, and sends you outside into a city you have never seen. When you exit the hut and recover from the glaring light of the sun, you gaze down upon a sprawling citadel and lower town. The city is divided into two parts, sunbaked clay and mudbrick the main method of construction. The citadel sits on a huge hill, and the town hides beneath its shadow, sprawling for some time into the hot red sand of the desert. In the distance you see a large glimmer of blue- that must be the oasis that allows this place to exist.

The local people seem to speak some strange dialect of Mazriki, but you can understand them well enough. You ask for directions from the locals, but the freedmen take one look at your chains and the water you're holding and avoid you. Finally you ask a fellow slave, and the boy obliges you, explaining where a variety of locations are. You have some time now, so where will you go?

--

[] The slave market, where you could find out if any of your friends survived the ordeal as well?
[]The souk, where you can perhaps get some information about /where/ you are and concoct an escape plan if need be later (though not without that passport!)
[] Directly to the prison to give the savage's wife some water.

 

[Cetashwayo]

[x] Home is your family and friends. Your mother and father, brothersand sister, which you hope to return to one day. As the eldest child, you were in fact entitled to continue on the family and receive the inheritance, though the Naisi would take a tithe and your younger brother another part. Your friends, too, which you should really try finding. They were sold too, after all.

won.

[x] The slave market, where you could find out if any of your friends survived the ordeal as well?
[x] The souk, where you can perhaps get some information about /where/ you are and concoct an escape plan if need be later (though not without that passport!)

Tied! Uh...look over there! Nah, I'll flip a coin. Heads for slave market, tails for Souk.

Heads won.

--

You know, you've just about had it with Halab. You've had it with this whole damn city. His wife? She can get her own water. You're going to find your friends and you're going to see if you can avoid helping him in his kinslaying escapade. Now you're going to find your damned friends! There was Sita, and Parash, and Daryush who you spent every night with when you could. Then again there were also those that you didn't exactly like. Your worst enemy in particular was your commanding officer,

[] Bahram Tiryaki. Not only was he half-Mazriki and only rose through the ranks because his father was an official at the Mare Eyelate, but he was hopelessly corrupt. He seemed to have have preferred reading and singing to actually running the garrison, and while the Fort had one of the most well-stocked libraries in the entire colonial garrison, it was constantly short of grain and food. Eccentric and seemingly uncaring, Bahram's only good point was that he generally left you and your friends to your own devices.

[] Sulei Esiskher. Sulei is a full-blooded Mamertane and came from the Porte's bloody capital. She was deprived of opportunities in the army because she was a woman, which you can sympathize with. What you cannot sympathize with is how she decided to instill "discipline" in you. Random marches, exercises with bizarre instructions, waking you up in the middle of the night to patrol. She had little charm and less tact and you were soon about as fond of her as you are Halab.

[] Vytautus Bolozy. Bolozy is a specimen from the Heigeldeg, assisting the Mare of his own volition due to his exile. Why was he exiled? For apostasy against Sellanianism; Bolozy is a convert to the Mamertane faith, a religion you never really wanted to learn about. Bolozy, though; he wanted to teach you all about it, which is why he tried to make a massive forced conversion of the entire fort, making you stand for several hours in the heat of the midday sun whilst he sprinkled salt on your face. When several of your friends deserted, he was forced by the Mare to stop or be fired, but that didn't prevent him from spouting his gibberish when he got the chance.

---

You make your way to the slave market. It is a bustling place, full of sights and sounds. A crowd of people block your view of the auction block. After some pushing and shoving and some more than indignant stares as they realize you're a slave (and then fear when they see the waterskin) you make your way to the front of the whole crowd, and manage to get a good look at the slaves collected there, as well as something else.

Standing to the side of the auction block is a man on a giant flightless bird. The bird itself stands at a towering eight feet or so, and the man is no less imposing. Covering his face are some sort of round goggles, while he is obscured from head to toe in a sky blue fabric tightly wrapped around himself. His hands have leather gloves and his feet cloth wrappings; he seems to have taken every measure to protect himself from the desert. His saddle, sitting near the back of the bird, looks unwieldy, but who are you to judge? This is a man on a giant flightless bird.

The slaves are bid on and you stand there silently, your eyes darting rapidly from side to side as you try to spot one of your friends. Suddenly the crowd falls silent behind you and you realize that someone has just appeared on the block.

He has sharp, angular features, his hooked nose a beak. He has a grey beard, a modest black robe and turban, and puts his hand up to silence any remaining whispers.

"People of Makar! Rahan speaks." He announces. "The slave bounty has been very plentiful in recent weeks. We move forward!" His declaration his met by cheers, especially by those who look wealthier. The slaves sit shackled to the side, their faces unreadable. "But there is something that must be stopped. Recently I was told that our great hunters," he gestures to the man on the bird, "have been given orders to attack outposts of the Mare. I understand this. But we must stop these attacks. For soon we will have a greater enemy! Bring out the prisoner!"

The prisoner in question is a man with a short black beard and rags. He is pushed to the stage and forced to kneel beside Rahan. "This Heshvan," the speaker points, "is nothing less than the worst of man. He spits on our traditions by killing our hunters and freeing our slaves." The prisoner is booed and even a few stones are thrown. "What is the punishment for...for..." He stops suddenly. He's looking at someone in the crowd. Who...?

Oh. Oh. He's looking at you.

"Slave." He spits disdainfully. "Why are you at the head of the crowd?"

You need something to say, and fast.

[] "I am a slave but I am a slave of Makar, and I must hear your speech for myself, great master."

[] "I am here on behalf of Halab. He sent me to buy a slave for him."

[] "Forgive me, master, I am Mazriki and am stupid. I am not well-educated in your customs."