Announcements: Cutting Costs (2024) » January 2024 Copyfraud Attack » Finding Universes to Join (and making yours more visible!) » Guide To Universes On RPG » Member Shoutout Thread » Starter Locations & Prompts for Newcomers » RPG Chat — the official app » Frequently Asked Questions » Suggestions & Requests: THE MASTER THREAD »

Latest Discussions: Adapa Adapa's for adapa » To the Rich Men North of Richmond » Shake Senora » Good Morning RPG! » Ramblings of a Madman: American History Unkempt » Site Revitalization » Map Making Resources » Lost Poetry » Wishes » Ring of Invisibility » Seeking Roleplayer for Rumple/Mr. Gold from Once Upon a Time » Some political parody for these trying times » What dinosaur are you? » So, I have an Etsy » Train Poetry I » Joker » D&D Alignment Chart: How To Get A Theorem Named After You » Dungeon23 : Creative Challenge » Returning User - Is it dead? » Twelve Days of Christmas »

Players Wanted: Serious Anime Crossover Roleplay (semi-literate) » Looking for a long term partner! » JoJo or Mha roleplay » Seeking long-term rp partners for MxM » [MxF] Ruining Beauty / Beauty x Bastard » Minecraft Rp Help Wanted » CALL FOR WITNESSES: The Public v Zosimos » Social Immortal: A Vampire Only Soiree [The Multiverse] » XENOMORPH EDM TOUR Feat. Synthe Gridd: Get Your Tickets! » Aishna: Tower of Desire » Looking for fellow RPGers/Characters » looking for a RP partner (ABO/BL) » Looking for a long term roleplay partner » Explore the World of Boruto with Our Roleplaying Group on FB » More Jedi, Sith, and Imperials needed! » Role-player's Wanted » OSR Armchair Warrior looking for Kin » Friday the 13th Fun, Anyone? » Writers Wanted! » Long term partner to play an older male wanted »

Snippet #2498530

located in Reclaimers Universe, a part of The Reclaimers, one of the many universes on RPG.

Reclaimers Universe

None

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mox Ierba Character Portrait: Jolo Grossman Character Portrait: Kaidman Lheyr Character Portrait: Eian Karimi Character Portrait: Shari
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

Footnotes

Add Footnote »

0.00 INK

[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