The Reclaimers: 95D/514Y

Setting: Reclaimers Universe

[Co-written with Redred33mer]

Ninety-Fifth Day

They had ridden for two days and taken several stops. It would not be long before they returned to the city. No news escaped the city as they were told by other travelers they came across.

There was a little trade post consisting of various tents and fluttering banners, walled off by large rock formations. It was secluded like many others, and it was located along the main trade routes. These trading posts had a mix population of people, whether they be the city folk, or the peoples that wandered the desert. Most often, the trading posts were jointly guarded by people of the cities. Some posts retained a level of autonomy as they were able to hire sellswords instead of relying on city guards, thus saving manpower needed elsewhere.

Jolo and the others found themselves at that trade post after their long ride out of Bane Canyon. The yakolas needed food and rest, mirroring their masters' own particular needs for survival in the desert. The night had been cold, but trade posts were never one to be scarce on sheets and covers.

The morning after the ninety fourth day, as they could recall from memory, heralded a calm sun. They were sitting on mats inside a food tent as a server delivered them bowls and spoons of hand-molded clay. The server went to retrieve their portions with his ladle from the pot that steamed of soup.

"We should reach the city by noon," Jolo said, as he checked his coat to ensure that nothing had been pilfered from him during the night.

He was sure that they recognized him as a ranger, and perhaps they recognized he was the head of their unofficial order. He had made many enemies over the past several years since the group's founding. He knew that much, and he was never sure when he would meet another who bore some hardened grievance or aged hatred against him. That was the price one paid to uphold the law. He had not died in his sleep, that was a good sign he thought.

Kaidman sat with the group, as they all ate their meal. It was nice for once to not worry about getting food and cooking it, especially with scarce resources in the desert. But at the same time he felt guilty. He was essentially a sand hermit, and didn't rely on modern currencies of the world. There wouldn't be anything he could do to help Jolo take care of his bills here.

"Hey, ugh, I might need to delay that arrival time," the young man said, interrupting his own thoughts. "I think its a league or two down the road I'd like to pick something up from one of my shelters. You know, armor. I can only imagine what trouble I might come across, travelling with you guys," he said half-jokingly with a smirk.

The other ranger, Portia, kept her eyes on the other travelers, who were not as conspicuous of their creeds through their dress as the rangers were.

"Sure, we can make a stop. It might be best if we finish up quickly here," Jolo chewed on a piece of roasted Paragis meat.

While the others talked, Mox thought of his home in the city. By now he could have guessed that squatters had claimed the place, and thieves had already melted down his forge and other tools. The only belongings he had left was a cache of bezants buried somewhere in the desert. Such was the life of a Protectorate citizen. He felt his hair, which had been roughed up by sand and wind. His beard was beginning to itch, for then he realized that it had grown past where he usually began to trim.

"Who else was taken?" he asked.

The ranger turned to him and paused for a moment to consider, "The count is up to twenty. If you're talking about the attack on the city, not counting you, they took two people. I'm guessing they split up to try and lose us."

He took a sip from his teabowl.

"Well that's just enlightening," Kaidman added in. Taking a few spoonfuls of soup, he scraped up the last bits of the food in his bowl and put his utensil and dish down. "I'll collect my things from the tent, and I'll be ready whenever you are."

Jolo finished his sip and nodded toward Mox, "By now you would have been a slave, consider yourself lucky to be alive at least," then he stood up, "We'll get the yakolas ready."

The group dispersed with Mox following the rangers. He did not feel lucky. He brought nothing with him when the slavers took him, but he hoped that there was something left when he returned.

The riders had left the small trading post out in the desert, setting their trailhead towards Protectorate City once again. The winds and the sand in it made each mile seem longer than the last, and the day had only just begun. They were finally at a stretch of seemingly endless sand dunes flanking them, with little spires visible far off on the horizon.

"Stop right about here, Jolo," Kaidman directed. The command seemed a bit odd.

Jolo released the reins and eyed the surrounding hills of sand, "Where's the cave?"

"Don't worry about it, just stay with the yakolas so we still have a ride to the city. Give me thirty minutes and I'll be back."

"You need someone to go with you?" he looked to Portia.

Mox noticed how raspy Jolo's voice was, and there was a certain soulfulness to it. He did not seem that old to have such a voice, the blacksmith thought. Perhaps he had spoken alot through his lifetime, giving orders to his fighters and negotiating with bandits.

"No, save your energy and water." Kaidman answered. Jogging off into the distance, across unmarked sand dunes, the swordsman travelled further until he began down a slope, out of the sight of the rangers. Looking back, he became conscious of the fact.

Once again, the characteristic pale green energy flowed from Kaidman's body, and trailed behind him to smoothe the sand he displaced, covering his tracks. His pace slowed, careful that he didn't spot anyone perhaps stalking him. Further and further he strayed from the packed sand that was designated a road. The wind still whistling amongst the land, the sun felt stronger out here, causing Kaidman to sweat profusely as he usually did in his lonely, and justifiably aimless journeys. Having a purpose and some travelling companions was refreshing.

Kaidman darted his eyes around from one place to the next. It was as if he was searching for something. Perhaps a plant, a rock, a cave, or a door to his shelter, but there was none adjacent to his position. Sighing, he brought his hands together, joined by finger tips pressing on each other, the palms some small distance apart. One could only guess that he was summoning some amount of his magic, but for the reasoning was not apparent.

The ground under him began to shake, as his footing became uneven. A wave of sand mixed with his energy came up in a circular fashion from beneath his feet. A mound of the displaced soil began forming around the ground level where he initially stood, and he began to sink as the mound's height concealed what exactly was happening. It wasn't until six or seven feet down a metal gate in the ground became apparent.

Bending over, he began unlatching the gate from a bar lodged in the sand. As the gate was unlocked, it swung open on a hinge, giving way to what seemed like a walk-in closet. Jumping down, Kaidman came between a wall of armor, made for men and women, and another wall with swords and various weapons. All of the larger weapons had a common characteristic; they seemed to be able to have some type of crystal set in their handguard, much like Kaidman's.

However, it was difficult to see, the only sources of light being Kaidman's glowing stone and the open roof. Shooting his arms out on both of his sides, Kaidman solved the problem, as his signature pale green energy extended rapidly both ways, lighting and giving the room a tint. The pillar that were etched in the walls gave the greatest support to the subterranean structure, carved ornately with designs of stems and leaves of a foreign tropical land. The walls were made of a clay brick, like many primitive structures in the desert.

There were only four plates of armor, each set in their own pedestal; two to each end. Kaidman stepped to the one closest on his right; armor congruent to what was broken when he rescued Mox from his kidnappers. The armor was thick and heavy, like a knight's breastplate. Lifting it over his head, he lowered it onto his body and pulled his arms up and through the sleeves. Silently, he looked around the room, checking to see if anything was out place. Nothing seemed to be, or felt to be. Kaidman's eyes closed as the room grew dimmer, becoming as dark as it was when he initially entered.

It was time to leave; standing under the hinged door, he jumped up, pulling himself up. His hand extended towards the gate once he stood, and the gate closed and latched itself. With the definitive banging of the latch on the bar that held the door closed, he looked up into the blue sky, out of the dry well he dug himself into. Raising his hand, he formed a staircase, but it only had three stairs. It was then he began climbing up the stairs, two at a time, and as he stepped over one terrace another one formed in front of him. Minimal use of energy was ideal, especially out in the desert.

Spiraling up the hole, he eventually resurface above the mound of sand he had created before. Now Kaidman had to cover his small shelter, and return to the yakolas. Jumping out beyond the burrow, he turned to face his entrance. Glancing among the dunes, he checked for any potential observers, and concluded there was not a being around to see his next act. Extending his arms upwards and outwards, his energy enshrouded him as well as the sand before him. It seemed to involve a great effort, moving hundreds of pounds of sand at once into one hole.

His arms quaked tremendously, until finally the mound had become little more than a bump in the desert. Dropping one arm to his side, he used the other and waved it side to side, a wisp of the energy he had used prior. Smoothing the terrain, it was as if nothing ever touched the land. Spinning around, he set his eyes on the blank path he had used to get where he was. In the manner he had arrived, disguising his trail as he went, he would leave the area.

"Hope they didn't leave me in the sand out here to dry," Kaidman said to himself. He walked, as if he now towed a wagon along the sand and up to the hill he had come down before. A feint wave following him to hide his footsteps. Finally, he summited the slope and was relieved to see Mox, Jolo and Portia awaiting his return. On with the journey they went.

Their spirited mounts carried them across the washing scarves of sand and past the wind that parted the hair from their eyes. The sun was quiet this day, still shining, but the strong winds and the pace of the yakolas ameliorated the usual scorch from Jeytelh's sphere.

"We're almost there," Jolo called out as they reached the crest of a dune.

The wind was blowing off the sand beyond the slip face, forming neatly patterned ripples that was reminiscent of water. Beyond several more dune crests, clumped plateaus, and a few mountains, they could see the characteristic dark outline of the city against the great blue sky. Structures stacked up and up on top of each other, the tallest structures were the wind towers, where the great sails spun at a managed rate. They were the only structures that Mox could determine as he squinted, they were still a league or so away.

If only they could ride forward along a straight path, they would be there in an hour or so. There never was a straight path though. The land was treacherous, and no straight path was ever free of danger. A few balmora trees stood resiliently among the dunes before them. Wind brushed the small patches of yellow grass that dotted their view. They could see packs of travelers and merchants as miniscule little creatures from their distance. Mox could not remember the last time he had left the city and returned to such a sight.

The only thing that kept the city from reaching its true potential was the distrust, they were only united in times of crisis. Each lived for themselves in that city. He supposed in a sense that there was more freedom for the individual as their was less obligation to the group. Mox inhaled sharply and exhaled slowly, he would be coming to see if his forge still stood. Hopefully his neighbors were good enough people to tell him what happened, if their stores still stood that is.

For Kaidman, it had been quite some time since he was in the city. More than months, but years. It was entirely unfamiliar territory, and the idea of navigating through entangling streets made the young man nervous. Perhaps it was simply an overreaction. But, having been out in the desert on his own for so long, dealing more with the shoddy sort of man than its antonym, skepticism and cynicism permeated his mind. His more knightly figure may even draw unwanted attention. He kept it in the back of his mind, the thought.

"So once we get to the city, what exactly are we doing?" Kaidman asked Jolo.

"Getting him home," Jolo gestured with his thumb toward Mox.

"If my home still stands," Mox replied, the wind kept his hair in constant motion.

Jolo remained silent to that comment, "We'll probably also be checking the damage and the section of the wall they tore a hole in."

It was possible that the bandits had done much more damage than the rangers originally thought. Jolo took only a glance at the wall before he trailed the raiders on the 90th day, for his responsibilities often kept him far from the walls.

Eian and Shari were returning to the city after they finished cleaving some bandit heads. They were no closer to finding their target than they were days before. They began to fear that their target was already dead amidst the sands, which meant they would have to return the letter to the person who asked them to deliver it. If they did not deliver the letter, they would not receive payment for completing their duty. That was not how the Cron Suil did business.

Eian chose not to let up. He asked around, or rather, Shari asked around for him of a blacksmith by the name of Mox. Their search proved fruitless thus far. They still needed coins to survive though, thus they killed bandits wherever they could find them. Eian's logic was that the letter's recipient had been kidnapped by bandits. If they found bandits, they might find Mox. If they did not find Mox, they would still find bandits. Those bandits would be killed and added to their growing head count for the bounty award.

That worked against them as they found themselves surrounded by a group that had been watching them from afar, waiting to strike back for their fallen brothers. Since the two traveled on foot, the bandits made sure to surround them on mounts. Just before noon as the pair made their way back to the city, the hooves at the gallop thundered down behind them like a sandstorm.

Jolo and the others were quick in their descent from the sloping dunes and winding rock formations toward the city. They made their way around one last bend that would lead them straight toward the city.

Just as they rounded the rock wall, they could hear the sounds of metal clanging and blades hissing through the air.

"The sound of battle," Jolo stated, he reached for one of the axes within his coat.

"Yeah... how do we know we want to join this fight?" Kaidman asked. His hand sat uneasily on his sword as he tried to look down the road.

Jolo replied with a raspy chuckle before he struck the reins and let the yakola take them. Portia and Mox followed behind on their mount. While the Ranger found the question humorous, Kaidman was a bit wary of battle, especially with companions. While he was a competent swordsman, dealing with outnumbering enemies often called for the young man to rely on his innate magical abilities. The discovery of his powers by more average people had unknown implications; magic was thought to be only an object of the history books.

They rounded a rockwall to find a group of bandits atop yakolas circling two stranded but armed travelers. Mox saw one to be a man, probably a desert nomad based on his appearance and garb. He had two blades steadied at the heads of the rogues before him. His surrounded companion was a woman, she seemed to be less covered than the man, as though perhaps she were a city dweller and not a desert walker. She too was armed with a pair of knives that were about two and half hands long.

The crowd of bandits hollered and undulated shrieks, Mox could see two pirate corpses with their heads covered by the sand as though the battle had started long ago. They were probably knocked off their beasts before the it even began. The nomad seemed very calm, these situations appeared to be natural to him. The woman on the other hand, her face displayed some semblance of the only emotion that mattered for a person in her position, raw and primal fear.

Mox could see his rider unsheathe a kopis from her black coat with one hand, while her other hand strangled the reins. He had never forged such a blade before in his life, for they were relics. Almost figments of legend themselves, yet there he was sitting behind a rider who held one that gleamed when the light of the sun struck the metal. Before he could request to dismount, he felt a web of wetness shot at his face. A decapitated man's blood dripped off of Portia's blade, while also splattering onto his face. The bandits had spotted them making their way around the canyon and immediately sent several raiders to intercept.

Another sword would have maimed Mox's left eye and face had Portia not swung her kopis in a forward motion to deflect the blade away, nearly wringing the bandit's arm with her sweep in the process, if only she had such superhuman strength though.

"Do you know how to ride this thing?" Portia referred to the beast they rode on amidst the clashing of swords.

"I haven't ridden one in awhile, so I don't know," he said aloud above the wind and the cries of the bandits.

"Do you know how to use one of these at least?" she held a pistol in one hand, while she parried an incoming scimitar with the kopis in her other hand.

Mox took the offered weapon just as a blade forced Portia to weave to the side and him to lean backward to avoid the blade lopping off his neck. His first reaction was to swing the weapon right at the rider's face as he passed by and pull the trigger. The gun cracked and the bandit flew from the saddle. His head whipped as blood popped and sprayed red.

"Good shot," Portia said as she returned to her earlier posture and wrung the reins, sending the yakola back around to the two travelers.

Mox had never before used a firearm in his life, pulling the trigger seemed almost instinctive to him. His reflex surprised even him as he was not normally that quick, especially with a weapon he had never used. He chose not to dwell on his little success as the bandits came toward them.

Jolo's axe flew upward and clawed an intercepting bandit's face, almost crushing his skull. The upward blow was enough to push the bandit from his mount. Kaidman had remained silent in their charge, as he gripped Jolo's shoulder tighter. As they neared their targets, the young man pulled his right leg over one side with his other. He then leaped from the back of the yakola towards the pair in the center. Eian and Shari were no longer surrounded in a tight pocket. The formation of bandits broke and scattered in various directions as two more riders were slit in their throats by the rangers and knocked from their mounts, ending the confrontation quicker than it began.

"Well met," Eian said to their rescuers.

"Don't think too much of it," Kaidman said modestly. Brandishing his sword, he bore it pointed upwards at the bandits. Perhaps there was something on them or about them that would give way to a connection in the recent bombing, or disappeared civilians.

"It might be a good idea if we got on one those," Shari's knife pointed in the direction of a yakola with a rider, "And maybe get out of here."

"Just hold your ground and fight the footsoldiers!" Kaidman commanded. "They should know by now the road goes around the quicksand!"

That was his excuse for whenever his foes came from off the road to charge him, and he used his abilities to sink them in the desert. Twisting his body to the right, his arm sweeped down and across, keying the sand below to move. Twenty feet in front of him, as the cavalry stepped forwards, the saddled animals seemed to just slide into the ground as the threat was neutralized. But his gesture caused the nearest bandit to step forwards and rise to the opportunity to strike. Jerking violently back to his left, he swiftly lodged the blade of his sword into the attacker's rib cage. Spinning in the opposite direction, his blade dropped to hack a leg off the bandit.

Those that dodged the sinking ground came at them with even greater force. Eian took two quick steps before he leapt with his blade into the air, springing at a rider and striking him down in the neck. The beast trotted by Shari, who sheathed her knives, grabbed hold of the saddle's pommel, and swung herself over to mount it. Then she rounded the beast back toward Eian and Kaidman.

One rider charged up toward Kaidman with his spear readied. The young man took his weapon in his left hand this time, and pivoted his hips to get leverage into the hip of the mounted beast. The swing of his blade broke the neck of the spear and batted it away, and cut into the flesh of the animal. At great momentum, the beast slowly buckled its knees and fell into the ground. The other bandits on their beasts generated a storm of sand as their ring of riders expanded to envelop the six of them.

"They're trying to surround us," Portia rode up to the group, "There's too many of them," they skipped past two other raiders. Mox fired a round that clipped the knee of one of the mounts, sending the yakola reeling over.

"Get on!" Shari yelled as she passed by Eian who swiftly reached for the saddle and pulled himself up.

Jolo motioned for Kaidman to remount the beast, they were breaking out. Kaidman sprinted to the yakola, faster than one might expect with his armaments. As he neared the beast, he jumped through the air, aiming for Jolo's rear. Swinging his leg over, and pushing up with his hand, he landed roughly behind the Ranger.

"Get us out of here!"

After the confrontation had passed and the group was within the safer outer limits of Protectorate City, Eian and Shari dismounted from the beast that they stole.

"Many thanks friends," Shari spoke for them, "I'm Shari, and my companion here is Eian."

"Jolo Grossman," the ranger then sounded off the others "This is Kaidman Lheyr, Portia Latisse, and he's..." the ranger pointed to his third companion whose name he had forgotten.

"Mox Ierba."

Ierba. Ierba The name sounded familiar to Eian, as though it had rested away in some crevice of his brain. Then it struck him. Shari's thoughts were aligned with his as they both turned to each other.

Eian spoke this time "Mox Ierba?"

He paused with a quizzical expression painted on his face, "By any chance, are you a blacksmith?"

"The only blacksmith in Protectorate City by that name," Mox replied dryly.

Mox was about as common a name in the city as water in the desert.

"You have not been home for days, I suppose," Eian spoke.

"I know," Mox said.

"We were looking for you, but your forge is no longer.." Eian trailed off.

Mox nodded, he understood what the man was trying to say about his forge, "Wait, why were you looking for me?"

Then Eian reached into his undershirt where an important message had been tucked away for safekeeping.

"I'm just a courier, but I believe this is for you," he held an envelope before him.

Mox looked to the others before he dismounted from Portia's yakola, which snorted as he got off. Then he took the letter from Eian and proceeded to open it.

The contents of the letter read as followed.

“To my friend Mox Ierba,

If that is even your real name. How has it been friend? We must catch up some time if you and I get the chance. However, I suppose I do not have as much time as I used to, and I am afraid that chance may never come. If you are reading this, then that must mean that they did not get to you or the messengers who delivered this letter. That news is good. It also means that I am already dead by the time you read this.

I suppose I always could foresee the future. ‘Twas never a gift, but a curse. You remember well enough do you not? The mine that collapsed? To my ill-fortune, I have no power to change what is fated for me this time. The people whom I regretfully worked for…tie up loose ends quickly.

You were and I suppose you might still be one of the few people that I considered to be good company during my days as a miner. I have no relations; you already know that much from me.

After we parted ways, I decided to bury my treasure cache in a safe place like you said you would do with your earnings. I traveled to Solaria, made some acquaintances and acquired a good station. I suppose I made a name for myself. You know me as a scholar; I get my hands on anything I want to read. I came upon this one little story that possessed me. You will know more of this eventually. An outside party had a special interest in this story as well, and things became sort of a mess from there. I shan’t digress into those details, they will die with me.

Now this part is very important. Read carefully. The man who will deliver, or delivered, this letter to you was referred to by an associate of mine. My associate believes he is trustworthy, but you will have to find out for yourself. I have been told he is a well-trained fighter from some nomadic people called the Cron Suil.

Within Spire Canyon, from the southern entrance, walk along the right pass until it begins to wind back to join the left passageway. Along the curving rock wall there is a stone that looks as though it does not belong there. Buried beneath that stone is something that I want you to have because I consider you as a friend, perhaps the only real friend I ever had. It contains more details about the little story mentioned above and payment for the man who gave this letter to you. I apologize if all of this seems quite convoluted, but I am attempting to throw them off your trail to give you a head start. I ask of you this final favor as I pass from this plane, please do not fail me.

Best of luck, always look over your shoulder.

And may Jeytelh watch over you.

Signed,

The Bastard, Michael Lyk

71st Day of the 514th Year of Jeytelh’s Ride

[This post is a collaboration with Dementedness]

95th Day

Taro finally awoke as the ship went into motion. He rolled off his bed, only to feel a scorpion sting him. He panicked for a moment, only when he looked, he sighed with relief. It was the non poisonous version of the Scara. They kept the Scorpion as a pet in case someone ever got stung by the male version of it, as the female naturally produced the anti-venom.

He got up, and looked for his clothes. After locating them in the mess of the room he got dressed, got his sword by his side, and went up to look at how they are moving, and if they picked anyone up. Along the way, he made sure all the cargo was secure, and made sure everything seemed alright. When he emerged, he noticed an unfamiliar face. He also heard his father's voice.

"Taro! Is everything secure?"

"Yes, papa! Everything is secure! We heading towars Spire Canyon first?"

"Yeah, so make sure the hull is tightly connected. Some of the corners might be tight. Spire Canyon is the best way to travel going south on an airship. Easy to lose a tail in, and ambushes on airships range from extremely difficult to impossible to do there. Once that is done, ensure the cargo is tightly secured again, and check on supplies and cargo room. Once that is done, that will be it for now. Not much to do at the moment".

"Yes Papa" Taro noted, going over to look as the land moved beneath them. He looked towards the other man. "What is your name? I am Taro."

Taro's voice was friendly, but he trusted this new person about as much as a stranger. Taro could be friendly yes, but he trusted only one man in this world and that was it. He was friendly, just not quite as much as he might be implying with his voice and words. "What is your destination, anyways?"

Seth turned over to see a younger member of the ship, seeming to be the Vander`s son. A small smile appeared over his face. "My name is Seth." He only said. "As for my destination, Im going to the Protectorate City."

"Protectorate City. Where the only law and god is money. Or so they say, anyways. I hear a bunch of people rule it, instead of one. How do they ever decide on what to do?"

Seth chuckled a bit. "Not only money makes law and god. Sometimes, you have to use a little bit of force." A grin creeps on his face. "The people do try to make it a civilized place, but they have a long road to do before doing anything. Of course, they do try to make some kind of law enforcers."

The assassin chuckled a bit. "Ah, the Protectorate City. A place where you can make good friends that will backstab you as soon as you blink."

"I have never actually been there myself. Papa believes that if we went there, someone would steal our ship. So when he does go to Protectorate City, its always to a trading post close to it, taking a land route there, doing the exchanges and then coming back. Sometimes we do actually dock there, but I never leave the ship. Says its too likely I would be kidnapped..." Taro unsheathes his blade slightly to show Seth. "I don't doubt that. What I doubt is if they would still be alive in the next five minutes".

"And still, their debates must take forever. They must be so boring. Why are you going there, Seth? Business? Lover? Oh, I know! You're a professional thief and you plan to get money for something you did in Solaria! No wait, that counts as business I think". Taro considered the reasons. "Oh, I know! You're some sort of wandering preacher! No wait, that doesn't make sense either. Don't worry, I will figure it out!"

Taro looked over at the sun. He leaned foreward to get a better look at the lands around them, causing his shirt to lower on his back, and reveal a part of some sort of mark on Taro's back. Any inspection would reveal the mark to be that of the sun. It was unclear, however, what had made it. The best answer would probably be some sort of birth mark, but that would be a large birthmark then. It definently was not a tatoo, and no wound could make it. It was part of the mystery that is Taro.

"Do you have any children?" Taro asked curiously.

Seth had in fact inspected the mark, but did not bothered to question about it. He leaned as well to looks to the sun. "Children, hm?" He said to himself, closing his eyes. "No, I don't have any. My life style is too extreme to have any social life. If I had kids, I would probably not see them much often." He sighed softly, but smirked as he looked over Taro, turned around. "But that doesn't mean I wouldn't like to have one. Say, it doesn't bother you? I mean, with all of this moving around, you must find times boring."

"Nah. Something always happens, and I know how to entertain myself when not doing a task". That was partly the truth. Another thing was his inability to know who he could trust other then Vander. Every kid he meant, for all he knew could be his sibling or cousin. Maybe their parents were the one who left him in that desert? These thoughts made it difficult to trust. "Also, how many people can say they live on an airship?" he added with a smile.

Taro gave a good inspection of the hull as they talked. It all seemed secure and strong. "You seem like someone who might be good with kids". Taro quickly changed the subject when he realized he said kids in third person. "Also, a nice thing about traveling is that you don't get bored of the same scenery. And its like a constant adventure".

The assassin had a smile in the corner of his mouth. "I don`t agree with you," he said, closing his eyes as if he remembered something. "There is a place called the Free Market in the Protectorate City. Basically, people are free to come buy, sell and trade their goods. Everytime, even though it is the same place, it seems to always bring something new." He would then open his eyes, still smiling. "I like to peer down from one of the tall buildings. I can see those little persons moving as if they were only bits of colors floating around. It is something to see."

He would then sigh, his smile replaced by a small pout. "But right now, that beautiful scenery is ruined by thiefs and other misfits, but I guess it is the price to pay for." He shrugged, shaking his head. He would then look up at the kid. "Say, is it always trips between Solaria and the Protectorate City for you?"

"Sounds like a nice dream" Taro noted. It occured to him afterwards that the phrasing seemed a bit strange for someone of his age. He quickly went further into it. "But I have seen many things. Including betrayal. Protectorate City sounds like its filled with theives and criminals the way you say it, but personally, I think its just more visible there. I bet if you took a magnifying glass to Solaria or the Drakyvrian Nation, you would find an equal amount of cutthroats. If anything, the fact it is so open about it might make it a bit safer. You are more aware of it, and therefore better able to counter it".

As Vander began to walk down towards them both, Taro noticed a flock of Skarra pass them. "I see you two have met. Taro, have you secured the cargo yet?"

"I did that before I came up" Taro noted.

"Yes, but its best to triple check. Better safe then sorry, right?"

"Right" Taro noted, leaving to do so. Vander walked up next to Seth.

"I see you have met my son Taro. Hope he wasn't bothering you or anything."

Seth chukled a bit. "Nan. He didn`t. He`s quite a curious kid, isn`t he?" He wondered if Taro was the same with people that he is more familiar with.

"Curious would be one word for it. Taro barely trusts anyone, on account of what happened to him..." Vander mentioned, looking out into the distance. "I wouldn't be surprised if he was probing you for information. Trying to figure out what kind of a person you are. He isn't the best at bartering, but sometimes he can use the answers to seemingly random questions to figure out what people are like. Personally, I would find that trait worring. Its a good way to get shot if you're not careful. And Taro has already been through so much already..."

The assassin nodded, leaning against the safety bar as he crossed his arms. "Well, I mean, it is his way to do. Details can lead far, but sometimes they can be misguiding." He tilted his head a bit. "I had it rough as well, but I don`t bother much of my past. I always said to myself that was is done is done, and the things I have to take needs to be took in consideration."

"Heh. Good concept. The only problem I see with that is if your past could come up to haunt you" Vander noted. "That is his fear. And a bit of mine I guess. But personally, I think it is just a worry he will eventually grow out of. He is a good kid, after all.

"You can live to fear your past, or you can live from the fear of your past," Seth commented, but he only shrugged lightly.

"Good saying. Who said it?"

"A friend of mine." He simply said, smiling a bit.

"Sounds like a smart person" Vander noted, looking around the ship and making sure everything looked good quickly. Taro re-emerged, having checked the cargo a third time, and made his way around the ship finishing up his morning duties. He looked at the Wind Measurement device, he couldn't remember what it was called, and checked it. "Favorable winds. Granted, we can power through them if they were against us, but its better to have it as an ally then an enemy. If our luck holds, we may reach your destination a day or two early".

Taro returned with a partially unbuttoned shirt. "Jeytelh must be closer then usual today, it feels hotter then normal".

"Well, if it gets too hot you could always strip" Vander half joked with a smile. Taro was not a big fan of their temple visits, but Vander made it a point to have them both visit the temple each time they are there. His theory was that it was better to have the gods with you then against you. However, Vander did know that if it did get too hot he might just do it. Taro was cautious, but he wasn't stupid. He knew about the lethality of heat stroke in the desert. If you get heat stroke in the desert, you are almost certainly dead. "Besides Taro, we have wind".

"Hot wind" Taro noted, taking off his shirt and going back into the cargo hold..

Vander faced Seth again. "In truth, this is a rather hot day today, and he is more vulnerable to heat stroke then the rest of us. I assume you know of the dangers in the desert, correct?"

Seth, for his part, didn`t seem to be worrying about the hot winds as he stayed there. Although, he did still have a half-smile while looking at them. When Vander asked such question, he snickered a bit. "Of course I do. I do very well. I have survived - lived, may I say - long in the wild than you might think."

"Ah, good. You just seemed more like a city person, believe it or not. And the desert contains many dangers. I have seen heat alone kill warriors. And then there are the beasts that claim more lives. Then, we have bandits and raiders. Now, the good thing about having an airship is we can surpass most dangers. But we do have to land for the nights, and for settlements we have business in. Its a lot faster then taking to the land though. Even if we stop at a set of ruins or two, we will make it to your destination faster then any land route could, and we are less likely to be attacked by raiders. Still, if they do try anything, I know my way around a rifle rather well, and Taro...well, he is learning, and there is certainly hope for him".

He looked around, then smiled. "After all, there is no 'Safe Journey' when it comes to traversing the desert. But I am guessing you know that, if what you claim is true".

He snickered a bit. "Oh, I have more to fear than what the desert have to offer, but you got it all right." He looked around the ship a little bit, wondering if their journey wont be jinxed.

"Its always good to adress the dangers reguardless. That way, you are less likely to forget them" Vander noted, quickly checking their course. "Ah good, looks like we are right on schedule."

A few hours later.

The group was approaching the first stop on their list, a trading post. Taro was leaning against the edge of the ship, to feel the wind on him. It made him feel like he himself was capable of flying. The cargo for this trading post was already prepared. Vander would quickly trade the cargo around, earn some money, and then they would continue on their way. Taro held his shirt in one hand, and a map in the other. He had been studying their routes, learning the best ways of travel. Airships were safer then land transport, but even they could not always take direct routes. "Papa, we are here!"

Vander emerged from below, and eyed the trading post. At first he was happy they were ahead of schedule, but he couldn't help but notice something. The trading post had a significant lack of activity...and signs of a battle. "Taro, get your sword and rifle, and tell the others to do the same. Something is wrong here..."

The assassin was in his cabin at the moment. He was revising the hints given with the map and the coin. He sighed a bit as he took the map away. He noticed that there was a lot more activities on the airship itself. Curious, he went out of his little room, his hands resting on the handle of his blade.

Vander noticed Seth, and walked next to him. "Trading post up ahead looks like it was attacked. I would recommend to stay alert. If the owners are alive, I would like to know what happened, and see if I cant make a trade or two. And if they are dead, there might be some clue as to what happened, and some useful cargo to take. Its unusual for a trading post to be attacked, so again I would recommend to stay alert".

Taro returned with a rifle slung around his chest, and a sword in his sheath. "This could be a trap".

Seth rose an eyebrow as he was told what was going on. Of course, a raid on a trading post must be rare to be a success, but he was intriged even more. Then a smirk appeared on the corner of his face. "Maybe this trip won`t be as boring as planned." He would say as he speeded off, knowing what could the danger be.

He took outside of the ship as he looked towards where what looked like to be the trading post. He smirked a bit as he quickly ran towards the edge. He would apply force on the barrier as he jumped over them, and farther than he would normal do in a simple jump. He landed nearly the edge of it, quickly taking cover. He slightly got out of his hiding, looking through the place to see if there is anything that seemed to be suspicious.

Vander did not like what he saw as he dismounted and looked around, holding his rifle and keeping his sword ready. There were dead humans, dead Sanorans, and quite a few fight marks. But not enough for his liking. The bodies were certainly dead, but whoever did this plowed through them with ease. As if, the man possessed the strength of five and the speed of six. The marks were all highly accurate, going for various kill points, and their own swords did not show much sign of use. Maybe one or two blocks, but that is it.

There were arrows in some as well, others crossbow bolts, and others seem to have had their skulls crushed. But those were not the bodies that concerned him the most. The bodies that concerned him the most were the ones killed by Solarian weapon fire. The mark of a Solarian weapon was very distinguishable. But this trading post was a very favorable one for Solaria. It was one of three that made trading much easier between Solaria and other places. So the fact Solarian weapons were used...it was unsettling.

"What do you make of this, Seth?"

Seth was frowning a bit, then looked back at Vander. "We should probably leave right now." He pointed at one of the bodies. The blood wasn't that much dry. "It seems to be recent, and I don't feel being trapped right now. I don't think it would be wise to fight."

"Agreed. Taro, we do a quick sweep, then hurry back to the ship. Understood?" Vander told him, some sternness and some caution in his voice.

"Yes Papa" he noted, looking for anything of use, value, or that told them what happened. He found a chest in the back room. "There is a chest back here, completely looted..." Taro started, but then eyed something of value. It was a pendent, one that appeared to be the same as the mark on his back. He snatched is from the ground, and found a bit of money hidden beneath a dresser. Taro was careful not to disturb the corpses though. He had heard stories of what happened to people who messed with corpses. He took a sip of his canteen, and made his way back to Vander.

Vander was looking for anything of value, or anything that could tell them their names, but neither seemed to be true. As Taro showed him what he found before heading on board, Vander walked over to Seth. "I don't like this. Why are Solaria Weapons being used against an Solarian Trading Post? We should go, quickly. I don't like the implications of this".

"Because it is the easiest way to not get targetted." He said simply, watching over the scene. He had collected some stuff for himself, but mostly blatant forgery. He looked back at Vander. "I might jump on the conclusions too fast, but I'm starting to think there might be a conspiracy growing against the Solarians."

"If there is a conspiracy, we would be better off trying to avoid it all together. Conspiracies have a nasty habit on being easy to blame...or frame...on anyone". Vander noted, moving towards the ship as he talked.

Seth nodded to what Vander said, which is why he thought they should leave now. "Of course, it is only a thought, but it seems that we're assisting in an increasing number of act against the Solarians, if not its government." He would then look back at him. "Have you heard of the recent deaths of figures in this particular government?"

"Aye, I heard the whispers and rumors. Some claim the Queen was assassinated, some claim she was smited by the gods, some claim she had a heart attack on the shitter and that they are covering that up. Honestly, I avoid politics myself. That is just another thing that will get you into trouble. I just stay loyal to my own, and keep doing good business. Anyways, we have no authority here, nor do we have any way to contact them. If we come across them we will report it, but that is all we can do" Vander noted, looking to Taro. "You done loading everything?"

"Yes papa. Everything is loaded. But the winds are increasing" Taro noted, looking to the west.

"Alright. We should hurry and get to Shale mountain then. If this is a sandstorm, we will need some cover" Vander noted, boarding the ship.

Seth looked back once again on the scene. He could tell a lot of things right now to Vander, but those lots of things much be kept to himself. He had to shut himself before secrets starts to spew out of his mouth. It will happen, some day, but now it is not the time. He looked over at Vander, only slightly nodding before saying: "I'll be in my room if you need me." He would say as he walked off. He had a lot of thoughts right now as he walked towards his room, but he let them out of his consciousness once he closed the door of his room, laying on the ground as he tried to relax. Maybe take a nap while he can.

[Co-written with VindicatedPurpose and conor]

95th Day
Protectorate City

The winds bellowed. Mox was a rock, he had not moved for a few seconds as the words struck him off guard. He blinked, unsure if he was dreaming or not. Michael Lyk. He was dead. Mox had not spoken to the man in years, neither by letter nor in person. They had not communicated ever since their days as miners ended and they parted ways.

"Got damn," Jolo chuckled, "It don't get crazier than that."

Portia brushed her dark hair out of her eyes, and Kaidman seemed to have dozed off as his head was limp while he sat behind Jolo. Mox looked at them before he turned to Eian and Shari.

Shari shrugged, and Eian remained silent for a moment before he spoke, "I have delivered the letter."

Mox did not have a plan or a course of action. First, he was kidnapped by bandits and his forge and belongings were probably ransacked and stolen. Then he wandered the desert for a few days before returning to the city only to be attacked by bandits once more. Finally, he received a letter, the authenticity of which he doubted, from a friend telling him to venture out into the desert to find some piece of treasure. It all seemed so sudden, and unplanned. None of it made any sense to Mox. He was just a blacksmith.

"I'm just a blacksmith. Are you sure this is for me?" he turned back to the messengers.

"You are Mox Ierba, aren't you? And you are a blacksmith, aren't you?" Shari replied, "We were asked to deliver this letter to a blacksmith named Mox Ierba in exchange for payment. Seeing as how you're the only Mox Ierba who is a blacksmith, or the only blacksmith named Mox Ierba, then we've delivered the letter, so pay us."

"Shari," Eian tried to rein her in.

The past couple of days had only reinforced Mox's notion to return home and continue life as a blacksmith. It was plain. It was boring. Most of all, it was stable, but the events that unfolded had challenged that idea. He was reminded of the taste of sand in his mouth when he was being dragged along. He looked at the two desert walkers. He wanted to yell at them, he wanted to utter profanities in their faces. He was not ready to head out into the desert to find some treasure that was not even real. He squinted at the letter, hoping that maybe the words would change into something else, hoping that maybe the letter would disappear, hoping that his forge was still standing. His forge could still be standing. He wanted to check his forge, but knowing that bandits had attacked, he was unsure if he wanted to see wreckage.

"Well? What do you plan on doing?" Portia asked.

"How do I know this letter is even real?" Mox asked, disregarding the pendant seal that had been wrapped around the parchment.

"It seems very legitimate, considering the seal," Eian paused, "Then there's the likelihood of treasure to backup the claims made in the letter."

Mox raised his voice, "If the letter's not real, the treasure's not real. If the treasure's not real, then I don't need to waste my time searching for something that doesn't exist. And most importantly, I wouldn't be able to pay you. I don't have any coin. Did the two of you think that it wasn't weird that they didn't pay you before delivering this letter?"

"We were guaranteed payment by the sender, excuse me, one of the senders. He said the recipient would pay us," Eian said.

"Meaning you," Shari said.

"Who was the sender?" Mox asked.

"The letter says Michael Lyk," Shari replied.

Mox's frustration came in the form of a sigh, "I meant the person who personally handed you the letter."

The two of them looked at each other before Eian spoke, "He was Solarian."

"That narrows it down," Jolo added.

Then Eian spoke, "How about this, we will help you search for the treasure. If it exists, it will validate the letter, and you can pay us. If it does not exist, we will exempt you of payment."

"Speak for yourself," Shari clipped.

Mox stood for a moment to weigh his options. There was no harm to it, "Okay."

Kaidman had been silent for long. His eyes were heavy and closed when his body seemed to have jolted awake; the yakolas were moving again. He held his head, as if it were pained, before shivering a bit. Jolo turned his head, noticing Kaidman moving around.

"Didn't get your beauty sleep in, caveman?" he joked.

"Uh, yeah, sure, you can call it that," Kaidman answered, not taken by Jolo's humor at the moment. "Hey, can we stop in town for the night? I'm not sure going out into the desert so late is a good idea. My head is throbbing." He spoke quite casually and simplistically, his mind a bit scattered in thought.

"The boy makes a point," Jolo added.

The group resaddled and rode into the city, resting at an inn as Kaidman had requested.

Foamy clouds bathed the night sky above the towers of Protectorate City. Lit lanterns still hung in front of several stores. Even at night, people were still out and about.

Mox cupped the little bowl of tea in between his hands, his head inclined toward the table. Jolo was scratching his beard. They were in the tavern of the inn, it was a joint-establishment. They were planning on staying the night before setting out again. They figured they could at least plan before their next moves. At least they did not have to worry about other travelers and thieves rummaging through their belongings when they were in the city. It was Protectorate City though, the thieves could have been the inn-owners for all they knew.

They were in a corner, quiet and secluded from the rest of the scene. They were among many thieves in that bar, even the bard. He was sitting in one corner, dressed in a two piece, a tunic clipped over one shoulder and baggy trousers. As he strummed his quiet lyre, he watched the other patrons through the locks of golden hair that he stayed covering his eyes. The bard searched for a gullible fool and his coin.

As for Portia, she had left the men to their little rest. She had to attend to her own personal business. Though Rangers followed the same credo, they were still independent.

"I don't know," Mox sipped from the bowl. The letter was laid out in front of the two of them.

"It's hard to trust a desert walker," Jolo replied, "But those two seem like they could be trusted."

Mox nodded at that comment, "Another day in the desert," he sighed.

"You ain't got much to complain about, considering what's left of your forge," Jolo shrugged, he pulled off his gloves and began to rub the calluses of his hands.

In Kaidman's supposed slumber, he could see only black, with flames of different color and size and distances from him. It was completely silent, like it was a celestial void where spirits resided. One substantial blue flame cold be seen, as if it were three miles away. A mist of the same color seemed to extend infinitely upwards, gravitating to this one flame in the void. From such a distance, Kaidman was reminded of the trek before he had found Mox; there was a peculiar recurring concentration of energy far away. If the mage had to guess, it was probably far enough it wasn't in Protectorate lands, but Drakyvarian; this was what startled him most.

Kaidman, his void, his arms began to cross, lethargically, in a manner which gave the impression that Kaidman was swimming through jelly. His chest tightened, he didn't dare to breathe. His aura enshrouded him in his green energy, and surely his eyes opened, glowing in sync with the fog encompassing him. A wave of the pale green mist went out from him, as if it were a stone was dropped and rippled the water. One could've heard a high pitched hum, like the ringing of a bronze church bell. With the relinquishing of the energy, Kaidman's chest relaxed enough so that he could breathe once again. Slowly, it went out, only a few feet per second. It wouldn't have been difficult to run faster than the wave, as it crepped along the invisible floor of the realm Kaidman had come upon.

Sweating profusely, Kaidman opened his eyes. He sat in the center of a small room, with one bed and a dresser, his armaments by the nightstand of the bed. There was a closet, made of a dark tan, almost orange clay, and scattered on the walls were candle mounts. A gentle, underactive green ring of flames circled him though they began to dissipate as he became aware of his surroundings. He was in an inn; they had decided to stop for the night, as he suggested. He was supposed to be asleep, but he hardly could since the afternoon, when they finished with the bandits and picked up the two messengers, Eian and Shari he had recalled their names to be.

The young man took two deep breaths through his nose, use his mouth to exhale the last. He used his bland, dirtied white tunic he was wearing to wipe the sweat that accumulated on his head, lifting it so that his toned abdomen could be seen. Dropping his shirt down, he brought himself to stand up once more. Looking out the window, it was dark. But it wasn't late enough for everyone to have gone to sleep. Grabbing the room key on the night stand, he went to exit his room, but not without securing his sword with its shining gem in the handguard in his hands.

He had come exiting the room, he locked it, and dropped the key into his pocket. He headed toward one end of the hall, travelling down a staircase and back to the inn's lobby. It was a small inn, but it had a comfortable social area. Kaidman came to find Mox and Jolo sitting in the lobby.

"Want a drink?" Jolo offered the new arrival.

"Yeah, thanks," Kaidman answered. He sat down on a couch and began drinking a cup of water. It had a refreshing sensuality to it, even if it was a bit warm.

"I didn't even stand a chance that day," Mox shook his head.

"Hmm?" Jolo's ears perked up. Kaidman looked at Mox, his forearm propped up at the elbow and his knucles keeping his head supported as he leaned against the arm of the couch.

Mox exhaled, "When they came, I actually tried to fight 'em off. I shouldn't have tried."

Jolo listened to the boy, in his mind he was wondering if Mox was a potential recruit. He had nowhere else to turn, nowhere else to go. Those were the hallmarks of a new ranger.

"If the treasure's not real, I don't have much to look forward to."

Jolo nodded, "Your friend, Michael. What do you know about him?"

Mox looked up at ranger. He blinked and shifted to the side, "We used to be miners together, but we parted after that venture ended. He went to Solaria, I went here."

"Seems like he made many enemies. The ending of that letter, somebody was trying to get to it before it could reach us."

"Enemies? I wouldn't know much about them. But, people coming after us?" Mox's brow furrowed, he took another glancing sip.

"What we know is that they were chasing him, and then they were chasing this letter. The letter has gotten to you, so..." Jolo scratched his chin a bit more.

"Michael is a-" Mox stopped himself, "Was a decent man."

"We don't know he's dead yet either..." Jolo's voice had deepened to a near low growl.

To speak of dead people was to invite interest from the many perked ears in that tavern. Each man there could have been in any number of trades, aside from thieving, they could have been spies as well.

Yeron pulled the bright red neckerchief over his mouth. Sand whipping past his face as the Yakola plodded through the desert. On his lap sat the rifle with which he made his trade. The beautiful dark-brown rifle with plenty of scuffs and markings bounced on his lap with the movement of the Yakola beneath him. Keeping his finger on the trigger guard he looked from side to side, keeping watch of the terrain as it passed by. He was on his way back from a ranging mission deep into Solarian territory. Tracking a small group of slavers and kidnappers. Unfortunately a sandstorm had wiped away any tracks they left behind and following them had become impossible.

Upon hearing the news of an attack in Protectorate city Yeron had decided to turn around and head back. Obviously there were bigger things at play than a group of slavers. He would get them another time. Now as the city grew closer he could see the lights flickering in the distance. In truth, he was almost glad to be coming back. He longed for decent bed, two weeks on just a bedroll really takes it out of you. And some good food. 32 years of age, not old by any means but the desert had a way of taking youth away from you. I'm sure to some Yeron looked in his forties. Not that he was actively looking to be physically appealing. No time for that sort of thing. He had dedicated his life to the desert and the people of the Protectorate city. He had dedicated himself to bringing down the kind of scum that killed his parents, and he would keep doing it until it killed him. I guess it was almost like some religious order, at least to Yeron. He wouldn't leave his rangers star behind him unless he had to. That was the way Yeron saw it, his brotherhood, his life, his family.

As the city grew nearer Yeron noticed something off in the distance. Spurning the Yakola onward he hurried to the scene. "Bandits, dead bandits. The best kind". Sifting through the remains he noticed a pattern. He knew only one person with a blade that could do this kind of damage. Chuckling to himself he looked around for any useful weapons he could use. There were none that suited him anyway. Heaving himself back on the Yakola he spurned it forward once more. Drowsiness now began to take hold as the city limits approached. Even at night the city seemed to be brimming with activity, guards moved from place to place and the taverns and inns overflowed onto the streets.

There was a warm breeze in the air, not normal for a desert night but Yeron didn't question it, and neither did the locals as they sat outside the taverns drinking the night away. They seemed happy given the circumstances. Maybe it was just the alcohol but he was glad they could forget about the attack. Even if he couldn't. Pondering why the bandits had attacked the city had been puzzling him for hours. Questions like, why now? why there? who did it? He had no answers, he hadn't been anywhere near when it happened, he hoped Jolo would have some.

Pulling up next to a familiar Inn Yeron slid off the Yakola and tied it up against the side of the building. He figured if Jolo would be anywhere it would be here.

Pushing the doors open he was greeted by a blast of warm air, the stench of alcohol and an explosion of voices and music. A small, sly grin escaped from his face.

Sitting in the corner was the person he was looking for, walking over birksly he arrived at the table. "Jolo. It is good to see you. Nothing warms a man like some friendly faces". He looked at the unfamiliar faces around the table and gave a curt smile.

Jolo reared back in his seat as he noticed a familiar face enter the doors of the establishment. His marred face, his calm disposition, his hat, his gloves, his bandana, and his stride all spoke of an ally.

The veteran chuckled before speaking to Yeron, "This is Mox Ierba, and Kaidman Lheyr," he gestured to the two younger men.

Then Jolo addressed Mox and Kaidman, "This is Yeron Reid, he's a friend of mine. So he's a friend of yours as well."

Mox exchanged a polite nod with the newcomer. He would have stood up to shake the man's head, but that could have drawn too much attention. It was by luck that nobody in the establishment had recognized Jolo, maybe he was heard of more than he was seen.

Yeron and Kaidman had seen each other on occasion. Kaidman's tendency to stalk mysterious people in the desert, whether they be bandits, wanderers, or even Rangers, had surely brought them to meeting on a couple of occasions.

"Good to see you again," Kaidman greeted, upon recognizing the figure.

Yeron politely nodded in towards Mox Ierba. He seemed nervous, but Yeron wasn't going to question it.

He then turned his attention towards Kaidman, his face was certainly familiar and after a brief few seconds of thinking he remembered some of the mettings they had in the past. "And you Kaidman, a friend of the rangers is always a welcome sight."

Yeron grabbed a chair and fell lazily into it. "So, seems I go away for a few weeks and the whole place goes to shit. What happened?"

Jolo drew them in closer for a more privy discussion, his voice fell to a hush, "Five days ago, bandits attacked the city. They managed to tear a hole in the outer wall. We still haven't figured out how yet."

When Jolo said 'we,' he meant the Council and the Guard. They had not figured out how the bandits managed to do so much damage.

"I'm not sure how is as important as who. If it's just some group of bandits, then maybe it was just a stunt. And if it's not a stunt, what are they really trying to do or say by blowing up the wall?" Kaidman added in.

"Well. We know they were bandits. It's not every day they manage to blow a hole in the wall. If we figured out how...it may lead us to the who," Jolo washed a bit of the water down his throat.

Yeron slowly stroked the hairs on his face, pulling down on the beard and then repeating the motion. "Seems like the whole world has gone to hell, theres trouble in Solaria too. I've hear rumours of a traitor fleeing the city. Although they are sketchy at best. Can't trust information like that."

"Nope. Can't believe much these days. Only half of what you see, and none of what you hear," Jolo said.

Yeron chuckled, "Sounds like you might need some glasses."

Jolo grinned, "Anyway, we're headin' out with these boys for Spire Canyon."

He slid the letter over to Yeron.

"Hmm, almost sounds to good to be true. Can we be sure no one else has read this? Sounds almost like a trap." Yeron sat back in his chair and adjusted himself.

"What exactly are Eian and Shari asking as far as pay? Is it just gold, or whatever the treasure may be?" Kaidman interjected.

"Hopefully just gold. And hopefully there's nothing but bezants in that 'treasure,'" Mox paused, "Also, where's the other lady? What's her name, uh..."

"Aha, Portia. I thought I saw some of her handiwork out on the road" Yeron smiled to himself, that woman was deadly with a blade. Sometimes he felt sorry for anyone in her way. Sometimes.

"You're not mistaken," Jolo smiled, only briefly, before he returned to reflect on the nature of the letter.

"A trap," the ranger let the words linger in the air.

"Bandits sack the city, and now this kid is being chased," he pointed to Mox, "All seems coincidental."
Jolo paused for a moment, he stared directly into Yeron's eyes, "The bandits that attacked the city. They killed D'hakem."

The news hit Yeron hard. D'hakem was a good ranger, a better friend. As it sank in his breathing slowed and cupped his face with his hands.

The sadness eventually ebbed away and was quickly replaced with anger. His breathing began to pick up again and his face scrunched up. Suddenly he slammed a fist onto the table, the objects atop of it scattering across the floor.

"God damn, I've seen so many people die in this world and I never get used to it. Sometimes you wonder is it worth it. Risking our asses out there in that wasteland only for the names of our dead to dissapear without a thanks."

Yeron rubbed his forehead slowly. The throbbing pain in his fist subsiding and his anger quelling. "I guess thats what we signed up for, gunfights and heartbreak so the people here can sleep at night. I guess me and Natasha here will just have to acquaint ourselves with some bandits." Jovially slapping the butt of his rifle.

D'hakem was the latest in a string of killings among their ranks, it seemed as though they were being targeted. Jolo had few ideas as to who was behind these motivated killings. It was up to him, though, to lead any countering moves

"Get some sleep gentlemen, it'll be a long day tomorrow," Jolo stood up and stretched.

The group dispersed to their rooms for the night.

95th Night

Protectorate City

Portia made her way through the shadows where few lamps dare lit their light. She glanced over her shoulder every couple of steps to ensure that nobody trailed her. Even the beggar across the street, sitting lazily against the wall of a shack, could have been an eavesdropper or a spy. Her pace was quick and darting.

The slums of the city witnessed a peace of silence that was intermittently disturbed by the shuffling of feet and murmuring voices. Even in the dark and dankest parts of the city, one could still find a restaurant or tavern open late into the middle of the night. The city was always full of perfect places for clandestine meetings.

At the edge of a darkened tavern, where the candles’ radius of light could not reach, sat two people of rather furtive dispositions. They were seated in a booth near the exterior of the tavern. There was no wall between them and the outside world. The conversations of the establishment were dimmed like the candles.

Both of them had wide brimmed hats meant to cover their eyes from onlookers, but not from themselves.

One was a Drak. One of his emerald eyes was covered by a patch that was strapped to an opposing horn on his crest. His forked tongue hung loosely out of his mouth that was lined with fangs, but when he spoke, it retreated into the recesses of his jaw. His tail was curled and hidden from plain view. A pair of tonfas were strapped to his back with the handles shadowing his shoulders.

His hiss was near indistinguishable when he spoke in the tongue of man.

“So the letter has reached its destination.”

“It has. It was meant to be delivered to a Mox Ierba.”

The other was a female. Human. She sat directly across from him with most of her face was concealed in shadow. Her hair was dark and smooth, and her face, sultry. Her skin was fair, despite having seen much of the desert. Her lashes danced each time she blinked. Her eyes seemed almost like gold in the night, but that was merely the flicker of the flame in the corner of her eye. Her lips, though dry and unadorned, were luscious. They moved about like a predator in the desert, with guile and beauty all the same.

She was wrapped within a dark coat, as she sat with one leg crossed over the other at the knee. She wore knee-high boots that were as dark as her coat. She sat in a relaxed and reclined manner against the wall. Her hands were gloved, one of them reached for the bowl sitting in front of her on the table.

Her coat had hidden a kopis, which ran the length of her hip to where the coat ended and just a bit more for others to see the tip of the blade itself. Fortunately for them, she had washed the blade clean of the blood that it had rendered in the little skirmish before she entered the city. People in Protectorate City were quite the paranoid sort, any sight of blood meant trouble.

The gray scaled Drak watched the woman for a brief moment before he glanced to the outside streets. A bowl sat before him like the woman. In his bowl was a liquid, a dark and rich red. He reached into the small pool with a single leathery claw, and began to swirl it about his finger. Then he retracted the claw and surrounded the bowl with the rest of his hand.

He took a sip.

“Mox Ierba? I’ve never heard of that name before.”

It was very characteristic of Michael Lyk to have delivered the letter to some unknown. He had made the trail quite hard to follow. Melio considered him a worthy adversary, especially to have given them pause this far. He pitied the man. It was only inevitable that he would fall to the blade of an assassin, one that would be returning with news of the Solarian’s death quite soon. The others were mere accomplices that had to be dispatched.

Lyk was a threat, him and Moyro.

“He’s a blacksmith. Several bandits captured him days ago during the attack, perhaps they were among your cadre.”

The attack, the 90th day was still fresh on many of the citizens’ minds. Melio had arrived only a day ago, but he was immediately caught up on the recent ‘invasion,’ as some fervent and frenzied people claimed. He chuckled.

“How…coincidental…”

Portia scoffed, she looked around, “We still have a chance though.”

“What chance is there?” he inquired.

Melio had not arranged for an extended stay in Protectorate City, this turn of events, however, forced his hand. He still had an assassin to meet the next day before he would return to his lord. It seemed the return trip would have to be postponed, but he was adaptable. He would have to hear the woman’s news, as he was sure that events changed rather quickly in the desert, but the news itself was slow in reaching ears.

“The letter speaks of a treasure located in Spire Canyon.”

The mention of treasure immediately pulled Melio’s eyes directly in line with that of the woman’s, “Oh?”

“Yes,” she hinted with nonchalance, “It was from Lyk, no doubt about it. Signed and sealed from him.”

“Where in Spire Canyon?”

Portia spoke, “The letter says it is buried along the rock wall, and Jolo intends to set out with them tomorrow.”

“Indeed? Jolo?” Melio paused, he steepled his fingers before him.

The ranger was not dead yet. He was aware that his assassin had not quite finished his job yet, but perhaps this was a chance to kill two skarras with one stone or so the Vaul saying went. He knew the letter was of greater importance, but the pieces seemed to be falling into place. He could only smile.

The initiative was in his hands, he gathered that he needed to pursue it lest it escape his claws. He knew his lord would be infuriated should that happen. Lord Ka’etruscan had a temper that could be cast upon an unlucky soul.

“By which route will they go?”

“Perhaps by land, but expediency demands they go by air,” Portia paused, “They know someone is coming after them, and they’ve been advised to make haste.”

“Whichever method they take, my agents will find them, and they will overtake them,” Melio placed the bowl down on the table.

“Like today?” her lips curved into a sly smile.

Melio gave a soft chuckle, he was aware of the little mishap that delayed him and his lord’s plans. Had the bandits killed the couriers, they would have escaped with the letter and its contents. It was by fortune that Jolo and his band found the Cron Suil and his companion. Had they been seconds later, they would have only found a pair of bodies covered in sand and blood.

Melio returned to the ranger, “You had some fun out there did you not? But no, not like today. Tomorrow, fortune swings our way.”

“What is your plan then?”

Melio looked deeply into the remaining pool of tea in his bowl before he glanced at Portia.

“We let them find the treasure,” he paused, “And then we swoop in and kill all of them. Simple.”

“It sounds easy doesn’t it? But they have some capable fighters among them. Aside from Jolo himself, the Cron Suil and his companion survived your minions.”

“Yes I’ve seen them, capable they are. Outnumbered as well. My other agents will be notified.”

Portia stood up from her seat, ready to depart, “I will inform you of any changes to the situation, if I get the chance.”

“Even if you don’t, my eyes will still be on you.”

“Likewise,” the ranger promptly turned on her heel and left.

Tomorrow was to be a long day.

[co-written with VindicatedPurpose]

95th Night

Dunes Far From Solaria

After the meal, the pair moved on to find a place to rest and clean up. Alleara said very little, following Estios' lead. She still kept watch behind and around them. She could not shake the feeling that eyes watched them from the shadows.

The woman wasn't wrong. The trading post was full of travellers and bandits alike. There would be those who would sell you goods and others who would rob you of said goods in a heartbeat.

The evening fell upon the trading post and outside the tent activity and noise slowed to a dull murmur. The fires outside crackled gently as a few pack animals could be heard shuffling. The slits located near the ceiling of the tent allowed the light of Anara inward. Estios had already retired, snoozing away. The day had taken a toll on the warrior, that was expected. Rest was important though, reserves of strength were needed in the longer journey.

Alleara found a place to change out of her current dress and into the one Estios had purchased. She carefully folded and tucked away her old one into her pack. Using her pack as a pillow Alleara laid down on the carpet. She was tired but sleep was long from coming.

She laid there worries running through her mind. Will they let us in? Will they tell me what I want to know? What about my parents?

Ninety-Sixth Day

The sun rose. Alleara had slept as much as possible. She sat up, ran her fingers through her hair to release as many tangles as she could and waited for Estios to awaken. She had woken up with no answers to her nagging questions than she had had before.

Estios was still asleep, snoring away. Had he been in Solaria, he would have awoken a hour earlier. A Sunfire was regimented, trained, and disciplined. Now, he could enjoy some sleep having left that life behind. He was no longer a captain, for by then the two delegates had already tarnished his name. He was fortunate that his only family was the Sunfires. They could defend themeselves. Even that was impossible, they were still hunted. He could only hope to sleep a few hours and be alert to catch any would be assassin off-guard. He could only hope the few hours he slept were good few hours that replenished his strength enough for him to carry on through the next day's unforeseen troubles and trials.

He opened his eyes wide, thankful for two things. The first was that he was not facing east, where the sun rose. The second was that there was not a sword pointed at his face, as was the custom for Sunfires who overslept to wake up with a blade just a few fingers from the bridge of their nose.

Estios exhaled and peeled himself from the mat that he had slept on, "Morning.

"Good morning." Alleara said softly as she watched Estios sit up. "I hope you rested well. Our things and our persons went undisturbed, a small blessing in all of this." She was trying not to think about the past, the events that led to this moment. They needed to think solely on what was ahead of them.

"Are we planning to eat and then try to make our way to the Timekeepers? Am I correct in that we are still going to try for that? I have come up with no other options." Alleara tried not to sound disheartened or frustrated.

Estios rubbed his eyes clean of the web that had kept them shut, "If that's where you think we should go, I have no quarrels. Lead the way."

It was like a weight on her shoulders. If that's where you think we should go... Alleara stood. She wasn't at all sure that they should be going to the Timekeepers. Why would they talk to them? They were just two people with nothing to back up the reason they were there. She wasn't sure they shouldn't go either, after all what else were they to do? They needed information and right now the only people who held it was the Timekeepers. Not for the first time in the past two days Alleara was wondering why she had tried to figure out the queen's death to begin with.

"Yes...yes let's go there but first..." She knelt down and scrounged through her pack. Alleara pulled out some parchment and ink. She began to write out a letter. "If you want to grab something to eat go ahead, I am going to be a moment."

Estios checked his equipment, ensuring that none had been stolen like she said, before he left her to her thoughts. Alleara knelt down and scribbled furiously. The words went down quickly but the writing was small, neat and even. She had one chance, one possible last hope for some help from Solaria. If she could get this letter there and to its intended without interception there was a small, a very small chance of help.

She wrote it all down. What she had learned so far from the deaths of the others, what her observations were of the Lords who had accompanied her and in great detail what had happened on her journey here to this point. She included everything that seemed even remotely important. The more details she included the more she hoped it would persuade the reader that she was telling the truth. The hard part would be getting into Solaria and into the Queen's hands. Alleara knew it was risky but the Queen had given her the job of being her investigator in the matter of the former queen's death and no matter what she was going to do that job. If the Queen did not believe her than she was in no better position that she was currently. If she did, even a little...if she could find out more on the traitorous Lords and those in her court it would be better for all. Alleara wondered how much Lord Faeran and the others were involved in the queen's poisoning, how much they were trying to cover up and just how many of the court were involved.

Alleara stood and blew gently, helping the ink to dry. Now she just had to figure out the best way to get it to the Queen's hand and not anyone else's.

Moments later Estios returned with a pair of biscuits and dried jerky wrapped in cloth. A canteen was strapped to the belt on his waist. He set the bundled food down beside her as he saw that she was still writing. Then he took a seat nearby and squeezed his forehead as he watched her write away.

The tent owner appeared from a closed section and noticed this as well.

"Ahh. Scribe?" he asked in a smoothed accent, there was still an accent though.

Alleara's eyes lifted from the paper. "Ugh...yes, yes a scribe." She nodded. It wasn't far from the truth. "I am almost done and then I need to send this off."

The old man nodded before he proceeded to oust the small and enclosed firepit that had lit the tent during the night. Then he drew the curtain fold up to admit more daylight in. Estios was unsure if the old man understood much of what Alleara said.

"What are you writing?" he watched her while sitting with one knee propping his arm.

Before she could reply, he decided to make himself useful. He pulled out his sword once more from its sheath and observed the blade for any marks or dents. He remembered that he barely used it during the battle, he exhaled. Not a single drop of blood was drawn. Perhaps it was not his time to kill yet. He proceeded to rub it down with his Solarian robes; he had taken them off the night before as he donned his new garb to better blend with the desert.

Alleara looked from Estios to the old man. She hesitated for a moment. Crossing to where Estios knelt with his blade she crouched next to him and whispered. "I am writing to the Queen. It is our only chance I think. I have told her that a conspiracy is in the works, that perhaps it has been for a while. I told her of what happened, of the Lord's behaviour as we learned about the other deaths and the ambush, how they killed all those they had not bought off. I told her that no matter what she hears of us that it is not true. I told her everything and all of my observations. I do not know what else to do."

She bit her lower lip. "My dilemma is in how to get it to her hands. I do not know for sure who is working for her and who is against. I don't know who to trust in all of this...except you and you are here..."

Alleara looked down at her parchment. There was a lot of writing, a great deal of information that she wished to impart to the queen. It was all very important. "Do you know anyone that we could send it to? Someone who could get it into the queen's hands? Someone you can trust above all else? They can't let this out of their sight or hands. I don't...I don't have any friends. I spent my life in a lab and I don't know about my parents." Alleara now doubted her plan. It seemed worth it to write it all down, to hope that if the queen read it she might at least investigate the allegations but now the task of getting it to her seemed too big to accomplish.

Estios stopped rubbing his sword as she said this. The captain made no motion, staring blankly at the mat he sat on. The tent lurched at the rolling wind's beckoning. He could see a banner billow in the open air for a time, it would become a windy day.

Estios sheathed his sword once more, "You have not told her anything. The letter has not delivered into her hands."

"And I know not of anyone who could get it to her hands. I don't even know who to trust within the ranks of the Sunfires," Estios paused, "The delegates' agents might be anywhere in the city or the deserts."

"It would be our word against theirs. Just us two. A disgraced captain, and a girl. No proof."

Alleara's heart sank. The last grasp of hope dissolved. She was so sure that if she could get it to the queen that everything would be okay. Now all her concerns about getting it there combined with a reminder that they were such small parts in all of this were shared by another, not just in her head. They were real not fleeting things to be easily overcome.

"It would be but...maybe I will hold onto it for now and perhaps all will go well with the Timekeepers and I won't have to try and send it..."

She carefully folded the letter and slipped it safely away into her things. "I will come up with a plan. If all else fails this has to get to the queen. She can't ignore what is before her. Our word matters." Alleara tried to sound more sure than she felt at the moment.

"Shall we head out?" She turned and looked outside. Sand was blowing about. Alleara took sash from her original dress, now folded in her pack and wrapped over her head. It would help to keep the sand from blowing into her face. She had forgotten about food, her mind too occupied with the letter and the journey before them.

The captain holstered his scabbard, and they bid their goodbyes to the good-natured tent keeper. Another long day in the deserts.

Alleara's steps were heavy. The sand slowed her but the uncertainty of her situation, of their situation weighed her down more. The letter to the queen felt like a rock in her pack. She was sure that if she could just explain to the queen what had happened everything would be alright once more. Facts are facts. They will state the truth and in this we are in the right. Justice will happen because fact will prove it. Alleara felt like as long as she believed in that, in the truth of all of this that things would work out.

The wind had picked up and she was glad for the material of her other dress to wrap around her head to keep the sand out. Alleara put her head down and pushed forward behind Estios. She fell occasionally onto her knees but got to her feet as quickly as she could each time. Alleara looked over her shoulder.

"Do you think we are being followed? I saw people watching us in the market. Do you think they will follow us?" She called out to Estios.

"If they are following us, they'll lose us eventually," Estios was referring to the wind.

It seemed as though a storm had been born not to far ahead. From the moment they left the trading post up until that point, the wind had only grown stronger. It reminded Estios of an old myth that the old women and sages often prattled about. It was a myth relating to a sandstorm in those parts. The legend went on about a great warrior named Apmekh, who was supposedly a brilliant strategist as well. He belonged to a group of peoples known as the wind tribes. These tribes were known as the wind tribes because they went wherever the wind went.

The tale went on to say that by the time Apmekh came into the world, the wind tribes had severely dwindled in numbers due to wars with various other groups. Back when the land still had magic flowing through it, Apmekh went on to lead his people against extinction. His many victories were achieved through sheer speed, they were known to move like the wind and lightning. They moved like the storms. They howled in fury, struck fast, and left their foes in defeat. Some say that Apmekh and his people eventually merged with the sandstorms that strafed the deserts.

It was entertaining to hear when Estios was a child, but it was a myth because the alchemists and thinkers merely believed that the wind had patterns. At certain points the wind would gather into storms until the energy to maintain the storm had dissipated, and the winds themselves dispersed.

The storm that was headed in their direction was not about to disperse anytime soon.

Alleara nodded as she hunched her shoulders, further hiding herself from the wind. She guessed the wind was a blessing in that sense. If they survived the trek there was little chance of finding their tracks.

The wind grew stronger as they walked and she found herself falling more and more as it pushed her down. Alleara clenched her teeth and forced herself to keep moving. She would not give up, it was not in her nature. Alleara was not used to such physical exertion. Sit her at a table for hours on end with a book and not be affected but this was an entirely different experience.

"Cap-Estios are there any animals I need be concerned about in the sands?" Alleara inquired as she struggled to once more return to her feet from her most recent fall. Each time it was as if the sand was trying to suck her in as the wind tried to force her down. She wondered if the land and air were somehow in on the conspiracy and trying to eliminate the last two witnesses of the treachery the Lords had done. Is it possible for men to control the elements? Alleara couldn't help but wonder.

Estios had forgotten that Alleara was a noblewoman, she lacked experience traveling the deserts. She lacked greater knowledge of the dangerous elements aside from the blustery weather. The predators of the land were not afraid to prey on an unsuspecting traveler. They could be buried in the sand by one's feet before striking. The creatures were vicious at times, comparable to the land in which they lived.

"Plenty, but perhaps not now," Estios yelled above the wind.

The captain found it harder to tread, the sand thickened about his feet. Each laborious step dug into the ocean of orange. The incline pushed against them as they climbed the crest of one of the many dunes in their path. He led with one hand in front of him, while his other hand pressed against the robe cloth that helped to cover his face.

At the top of the dune, they were hit by puffs of wind while the sand pelted them. Estios had been through storms before, but he had never grown accustomed to them because he had never spent many days out of the city. At one point he thought he nearly lost Alleara, and he was about to call out for had he not realized her hand was still on his shoulder.

"Stay close," he beckoned.

Alleara's eyes widened as Estios told her there was plenty of things to be concerned about in the sand. She looked down at the shifting land with fear. "Great, one more thing on the list that wants to kill me. Sand creatures..." Her voice couldn't be heard over the wind.

It took her a few moments to realize they were moving upward on an incline. The process grew steadily slower and harder. Even Estios was slowing down. She put her head down, held onto his shoulder as best she could and tried not to eat or inhale too much sand.

He told her to stay close and Alleara simply nodded. She had no intention of doing anything other than staying as close as possible to him. Her hand gripped tighter as her feet sank.

"I feel like the sand is trying to swallow me!" Alleara yelled over the blowing wind. She instantly regretted it as sand found its way into her mouth. She coughed and stumbled as she tried to spit as much of it out as she could. Alleara fell to her knees, letting Estios go. Her stomach heaved slightly as it fought out the bits of sand she had inadvertently swallowed. She let her body clench a moment as it tried to expel the grit.

Alleara looked up hoping Esitios had not gone too far. She struggled once more to her feet and tried to run towards him to no avail. She began a slow, heavy footed trudge. Her head down this time she raised her voice once more. "How long do these storms last?"

"Long enough to force one to seek shelter," Estios's reply was clipped by the buffeting wind. His field of view was limited to a couple of steps before him, but that was enough to spot the canyon opening. He thought perhaps they could shelter there until the storm pattern dispersed and the taste of sand had disappeared from their mouths.

He was sure her hand was still tugging on his shoulder, and he led them to the crevice that would lead into the interior of the rock formation. The wind was less harsh with the rock walls covering them. Estios was careful to keep his face covered with whatever cloth he had. He ran his free hand among his robes to ensure that their pouch of funds and his sword had not fallen off somewhere in the path. The search for them out among the dunes would serve to delay their progress, and to go without them would be foolhardy.

Shelter was music to her ears. Alleara struggled to remain close as he led them forward. Thank any gods listening that he is with me. I would have.... She didn't complete the thought. She knew what would have happened if Estios had not saved her life. She reached out and grabbed his shirt once more as they pushed forward.

At first she didn't know what he was moving towards but eventually she could see the opening. Alleara wanted to go faster, to get out of the wind but it was like the sand was mocking them with every step.

"Not-much-further-" She yelled above the wind. It had picked up, blowing stronger and Alleara wanted to curse at it as it tried to take her breath away once more.

Estios pushed as far into the canyon passage as he could. With the arches overhead, they were protected from the beating wind for a time. He intended to set out as soon as the storm let up.

Estios let out an exhausted exhale, which was followed by several coughs as he attempted to relieve himself of the salt that landed in his mouth. Both were muffled by his robe. The taste was nothing new to him, but the texture was certainly annoying.

“Are you alright?” he yelled, “Keep your face covered.”

He knew she was fine, but reassurance never hurt. He could see the wind was calming from its earlier howls, the sand was less bitter. It was still far too harsh to make any further headway in the open stretch. At least he could see his hand in front of him, that was a positive sign.

Alleara took a breath and immediately started coughing. It felt as if the sand had penetrated every crevice of her face. "Yes, I am fine but I feel like I have eaten a good portion of the desert..." She turned and in a very unladylike fashion spit out as much sand as she could. "Yuck." She covered her face once more.

If Alleara could see Estios' face, she would see him smiling.

Her head went back against the wall for a moment. "I am exhausted. I never realized how hard that walk was going to be."

It was then that Alleara realized her heart was pounding in her chest in an almost uncomfortable fashion. She also realized her eyes were verging on tears. She felt defeated and they hadn't gotten very far at all. How am I going to do this? Doubt began to creep in again.

Alleara pushed herself away from the wall and began to walk towards Estios. No tears, no giving up. You can't do this. He lost so much and you don't get to buckle now. "Do we wait or keep moving?"

"We wait, until the storm dies," Estios covered himself once more as bits of sand had nearly lashed his face.

Alleara nodded and huddled into her clothes a bit more to keep the sand away. This wasn't what she had envisioned when the Queen asked her to investigate. She had thought questions, lists and then finally an answer. Nothing was to result in caravans through the desert, ambushes and more death let alone hiding in a passage to wait out a sandstorm.

She almost missed her mother's nagging her to be social, to get out of the lab.

The storm carried for a time.

When the dust settled, literally, they found themselves in the same place as before, the sprawling desert. The storms never did much to alter the landscape, however, some say that the grooves, curves, nooks, and crannies on rock walls were the result of erosion by bits and grains of sand for years on end. Perhaps that too was the work of Apmekh and his followers, wearing away the great walls of rock until everything turned to sand.

Alleara fixed her scarf, adjusted her pack and had finished freeing her nose and mouth of as much of the sand as possible. When the storm finally died down she felt ready to continue on. As she peered out at the landscaped she was disheartened to see that nothing changed in regards to the landscape but she also wondered why she thought it might. What would a storm like that accomplish really other than pushing sand about? Expose some long forgotten city of legend? Open a new path to an unknown land? When did I take to having such fairytale hopes? Alleara sighed in annoyance and stepped out into the sands.

"Now that I can hear you better what exactly should I be looking for in regards to things that might lurk in the sands? With the storm not battering at us I imagine we are not that only things that will come out of shelter to explore the lands once more."

"Venomous creatures. Their stings would make the sands your crypt. Let's hope they all scurried into their holes during the storm."

The captain moved on ahead as ever, his scabbard hung from straps at his hip.

The captain's lack of details about the things that might try to kill her left Alleara feeling less than excited about their trek. Her mouth set into a line as she followed him through the sands.

The sun grew higher in the sky and Alleara kept pulling her scarf further and further over her head until she could get no more shade from it without covering her face completely. Sweat trickled down her body. For the first time in her life Alleara thought about what it must be like for those who could not afford a home to give shelter from the repressive sun. Sure tents worked but there was nothing like the cool shade of a built home to make you underestimate the everyday impact the sun had on the people. Alleara spent most of her time in the lab and hidden away from the outside world. Now it beat down on her and she wondered if she had what it took to survive.

The trek was tiring but Alleara said nothing out loud about how weary her legs were growing or how her pack, as light as it was began to feel like rock on her back. They had to get as far as possible. There was a lot at stake and collapsing in the sands was not an option.

A bead of sweat dripped into her eye and with a sharp hiss through her teeth Alleara paused to wipe it away. It was then that something tickled her leg. It wasn't a tickle of say a feather or material brushing against skin but more like something touching her.

"E-Estios....those creatures....um..."

Her eyes moved downward to see a thing with many legs and a shiny body at her feet. Part of it's frame remained in the sand as it decided to crawl out to see what was standing near or on its home. Long thin limbs moved against her leg, feeling her.

The logical part of her said it was simply checking to see what she was, food or predator, perhaps an object blown by the wind. The logical part saw the need for the creatures curiosity.

The part of her that was now overwhelmed with fear could not focus on anything but the pincers that protruded from the front.

"What do I do?" Her eyes remained on the thing in the sand.

Estios turned to see her predicament. Fortunately, it was nothing serious to warrant pulling out his sword. Many occasions in the past were otherwise though.

"Leave that one be. It's one of the few harmless ones," the captain waved the creature off.

It did as told, scurrying into the wide expanse. Somewhere along the way it buried its head into the ground, the body soon followed and altogether disappeared beneath. The captain huffed and cleared his throat, he kept moving forward. He was trying to retrace their path. The desert was never marked with roads, it was the reason why there were so many trade posts. They served as markers for those who traveled, those who stayed at the posts were well-traveled and could serve as guides or give directions if necessary.

The words that one of the guides had given him was to head north. He had rarely visited the Sanctum himself, but he knew that it would be recognizable from a distance.

Alleara was relieved by the statement that the thing was harmless. It never occurred to her that any of them might be harmless. She had been too fixated on the venomous aspect.

The thing skittered away. Alleara opened her mouth to thank Estios but he had already turned and with a huff started off again. She followed behind and once more thought perhaps things would be easier if she had more real world experience. Reading in the lab was not the same as interacting with the world around her.

The pair walked and walked. Alleara said nothing more, asked no other questions and kept her eyes out for other things that might come crawling out. She wanted to show the captain she was not a liability or a burden.

When the first pieces of the Sanctum appeared in the distance over the top of a dune Alleara thought she was imagining it. Clearly the sun was causing strange visions in the distance. She said nothing to Estios, fearing he might think her going mad from the heat.

The tops of the Sanctum grew and extended down to show the rest of the building. Alleara blinked ensuring she wasn't hallucinating. "Estios. Do you see that? The heat isn't getting to me, there is a building there right?"

It was a structure in the middle of the desert. It was shaped like a dome, but other than that it had no real aesthetic to it. It was colored like the sand, almost as though it were meant to be a dune. Estios had to cover his eyes, as they were facing the sun. He could not tell if it was a mirage, or if that was the recognizable Sanctum that was foretold.

Alleara looked over at Estios. He seemed to give pause as if pondering if he too were really seeing a building. The heat and trek had taken a toll on them both.

"Let's keep moving. The sooner we reach it the sooner we are out of the sun and the sooner we can figure out our next step."

With a shift of her pack on her shoulder Alleara began walking once more. The colouring of the building was throwing her off, making it hard for her to keep focused on it. She could see it but the constant squinting and blinking from the sun meant that at times she could not find it again right away.

The closer the came to the Sanctum the more clear it became. The structure grew bigger and its shadow became ever more discernible on the sand.

"Almost there. I hope the men here are willin-"

Alleara paused, stopped walking and turned her head as if listening intently. After a moment she looked at Estios. "Do you hear that?"

The Reclaimers » Arcs » 95D/514Y

As written by: VindicatedPurpose, Mr. Baneling Squishy, Redred33mer, SkullsandSlippers

5 pieces and 13 characters involved, written by 4 different authors.

1 places involved

So begins...

95D/514Y

Setting: Reclaimers Universe