Grit and Raja

I remember Raja. I remember that stinking hell hole. I went there because I had run out of water. I misjudged things. I thought I could make it to the next trading post and hitch a ride with one of those dwarf crawlers. If you’re quiet enough you don’t have to pay…just don’t get caught. Anyway, I was pretty sure I could make it but I thought I would play things say. I should have taken my chances.

I still remember the lady who accused me of attacking her. Apparently all us Sand Elves look alike, or so I am told. I suppose no one bothered to check and see if their suspect had any unusual markings. If they had paid that much attention they would have seen my tattoo. They would have known that I was innocent. Oh well, they weren’t looking for the criminal, they were looking for a wife to kiss up to that shifty Tiefling. A woman wears next to nothing and get’s everything she wants: only in a God forsaken place like Raja, anywhere else and that might have gotten her thrown over the back of a massive Talon.

Oh well, that’s not the point. The point is I spent the night in that horrid prison. The thieves and thugs were all around. One man had a glass eye. Another was missing a hand. Still another had sores covering his whole body and smelled of rotting flesh. Worst of all, one was in a dress. That lousy bunch of low life starting eyeing me up from the moment they put me in that cell. Could thing I learned along time ago to always keep my choke wire wrapped around the inside of my turban. No one ever bothers to look there.

I ducked. The firs man slammed his fist into the wall. Probably broke his hand. I sidestepped the second man. His fist hit the first guy in the back of the skull. The moment of shock that followed was all I needed to set my trip wire to work. Within a moment that one man lay unconscious and another lay dead. Not bad for less then ten seconds worth of work.

The next day they let me go. Said I was probably guilty but the lay wasn’t going to press charges. I overheard one of the guards say she wound up on the wrong side of a crime lords drug trade. I didn’t care. She got what she deserved. All I knew was that the guards were coming to let me go. They didn’t seem surprised that there was a dead body in the jail cell the next morning. I think they were more surprised that the dead carcass wasn’t me.

I left after that. And I’ve never been back. Not a good place, that Raja. It just leaves a long, bitter taste in your mouth. That’s why I prefer these open plains. Sure, its dirty. But better sand in your hair everyday then blood on your hands everyday.

Author: lanceNapoleon

Grit and Raja

The Age of Ash lancenapoleon