Dark Sun - Freedom

Log 4: End of day 3

More bloody elves, idiot merchants, and sun-damned ghosts

No rest for the wicked.

Road to Tyr started quiet. Dwarf left—toward Kledd. Ran into a merchant “chatting” with more sun-damned elves. Fought to save him, wasn’t real hard. Elves ganged up on me when I casted, called me Defiler. Stupid elves. Gotta watch myself elsewhere though, especially Tyr. Thought merchant got gutted, but he lived. Turned out even dumber than he looked, tried to pass us off as slaves. Idiot! Got us captured, left without a word.

We broke out, half-giant guards be damned. In the mad rush we four somehow managed to escape. Chaya and the human didn’t follow. Wish we could help, but it was do-or-die. Made our way to the shadow-market. Guess they call it “elven” market here. Makes sense, lots of elves. Had to glare one down hawking glassware, no big deal. Sold the gold coins, I got to play ‘nice guy’ for once. Was…nice. Had to explain money to Mari. Guess barter’s the only trade for her people. She didn’t like it, but she can roll with the punches.

Pawn shop owner sent us to his sister, tailor. Haven’t had new clothes in years. Feels nice. Won’t stick out so much now. Grabbed food, water. Asked around, found an old winery, set up camp there. Basement’s almost cool, even in daylight. Has a bloody table, but we’ve kipped in worse. Mari kept the weapon-bundle too, quick thinking from her. Every chip counts in this bet.

Murza, the mul, took me aside. Guess she saw me writing this thing. Asked if I knew words, the “markings that stay.” I’ll teach her to read, write. Why not? Might have…rocks and crystal spiders on her, but for a lifelong slave, she’s earnest, even noble. Maybe I can share my mad dream. First lesson…not so good, but it’s a start. She’s never learned, I’ve never taught. We’ll work it out.

Tried to look into her…rock-skin. Came up dry, for now. She hides it well, but she’s bothered a bit. Strength for today, but what cost? Mari was silent as always; Acerbas, the psiker, distant. He knows how to work people, and keep people going. Tomorrow, we’ll talk. For now, sleep’s our tonic.

SUN-DAMNED GHOSTS. Again. One ghost, anyway. Real this time. Woman, hole in chest. Hence bloody table. Kicked her ass before it drifted away. Acerbas’ senses overloaded—whole building’s haunted. Wondered why it was empty, ugh. Tossed out bloody table, just in case, and went back to bed. We’ll hash it at sunrise.



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