Storm Six:: [Audio]

[survivorking]

[Damas had begun preparations of Marmas the best way he knew how, but quickly found that it was not particularly easy to manage on his own, especially when he lacked some of the skills-- most specifically cooking. It could not be a feast without food

Comments

[sandpaperbreath]

Marmas is more a slummer's holiday back home. Got more going on for kids than adults. More than anything, it's another excuse for a drink.

Used t'be there'd be a service for it, but we lost the temple couple'a years back. Now the shrine in the water slums gets the most traffic.

[survivorking]

[Damas frowns at the news of the temple's destruction.]

Well, perhaps you will enjoy a more traditional Marmas celebration. It is a shame that so many people have never known the traditions fully...

[sandpaperbreath]

The Baron ain't one for sharing the spotlight. When the Metal Heads wormed their way into Old Sandover--broke through the walls and raised all manner of hell--it probably seemed like a damn good opportunity to get rid of his 'competition'. Why have faith in the Precursors and their chosen when you can have faith in him and his.

I don't know if any a'this made its way into the desert. Could be old news t'you, I guess.

[He doubts it, though.

Old Sandover is quite the soft spot for Torn. Give him an opening, and he'll talk about it, much like compulsively picking at a scab that would heal if only it were left alone.]

[survivorking]

[It IS news to him, but that name strikes a nerve.

Jak had mentioned Sandover.]

Can you tell me more about Sandover?

[sandpaperbreath]

Well, for starter's, it hasn't been called that since the massacre.

Metal Heads broke through the wall, and the first chance he got, the Baron brought down a new security field. Not even an attempt at an evacuation. Every unlucky bastard, woman and child was left behind t'die.

's jus' ruins now. Only important thing left is the Sacred Site, legendary home of the Green Sage. Catches the Metal Head's attention now an' then, but it's still standin'.

[survivorking]

...How long ago was this?

[He is very quiet when he asks.]

[sandpaperbreath]

Jus' about seven years.

[survivorking]

So recently...

[It just reinforces every prejudice that Damas ever had against Praxis, adds more people than just a personal vendetta. What was Praxis thinking, leaving them out there to die, how could he even--

He cuts his thought short and shakes his head. There was nothing Damas could do about it. There was no point in letting all the anger build up. His voice has changed noticeably when he speaks again, it's very distant.]

Perhaps I will pray for them at Marmas.

[sandpaperbreath]

An' yet it feels like a life time ago, 'least from where I'm standin'.

[It's been seven long years of fighting, not enough food, not enough heat, and not enough guarantee they were getting anywhere putting friends and innocent lives alike on the line. It's felt distant for so long, living here, but now Torn can feel the weight of his life in Haven vividly.

Why does his miss it?]

Anyway.

That'd be good of you, Yer Highness. Maybe the Precursors will at least hear yer voice in this Hell-void.

[survivorking]

Maybe they will, maybe they won't.

[After Mar had been kidnapped, Damas was sure he'd at the very least fallen out of favor with the Precursors if they, too, had not exiled him altogether.

Now that he knew who Jak was, he was sure this was some kind of horrible cosmic joke.]

Will you be making prayers of your own, then?

[sandpaperbreath]

Yessir.

Have every day of my life--don't see much of a point in stoppin' now. Maybe our creators can't hear us, but who said they were listenin' in the first place. Ain't any skin off my nose either way, might as well side with the divine if only on the gamble they lend an ear. Probably only tune in t'amuse themselves, but what the hell.

[survivorking]

I wouldn't know what the Precursor's intentions are. I would like to think that they are benevolent and wise... but then, I would like to think that, and yet I cannot say I do.

I think amusement is the most likely option.

[Considering the whole "HERE HAVE YOUR SON BACK, YOU ONLY MOPED ABOUT IT FOREVER" thing. And also the fun little joke of having him lose his wife and son in so short a time...]

Far be it from my place to complain, though.

[He says this with a semi-superstitious upwards glance.]

[sandpaperbreath]

I don't know, Yer Highness, if anyone's allowed to bitch, its you.

And maybe Jak.

Dunno, I'm still don't quite buy the stuff about him being Mar--

[Or your son, for that matter,]

--but there's somethin' about him.

Everyone from our world knows him, y'notice that? Not sure what that means.

Not even sure why I told ya that. It's been gnawin' at me, I guess.

[survivorking]

I named him Mar for the man I believed Mar to have been.

I would be very pleased to know that is the man Jak grew up to be.

[He pauses.]

Don't feel as though you should hold your tongue around me.

[sandpaperbreath]

In that case, the whole Jak is your son, Jak is Mar business is pretty damn far-fetched.

[survivorking]

He was sent into the past, and grew up in Sandover.

I don't think it is so far-fetched.