Portia Latisse's Story

[Co-written with Redred33mer]

93rd Day

Bane Canyon

The two men wandered for a time in the underbelly of the winding canyon. Mox followed behind the other man, who moved at varying paces. The orange rocks and grey sand were nothing new. The wind picked up occasionally and sent some bits about.

Mox noticed the man was dragging the sword against the sand, carving against the grain. They were going to meet a "witch doctor." The term was used for healers who had unorthodox methods of treating injuries and sicknesses. The manner by which they dealt with sickness was a mystery to many, ergo witch. Some claimed that they were healed, and thus these witches earned the label of doctor. They were far and few, and because of this, not many people trusted them. They were unsure whether these people engaged in other practices aside from curing the sick. Some rumors circulated that they would feast upon the patients they failed to cure, cannibalism. They would then be granted immunity to the sickness that had consumed the fallen. And from their blood they would concoct, through alchemy, a cure. Others said that they made blood sacrifices which created the plagues that had devastated the cities years ago.

There were few stories that made Mox comfortable with the idea of visiting a witch doctor.

"How much farther?"

"We should be there in about twenty minutes. However, I'm afraid you will not be able to come into my friend's house. She's quite picky about who she lets in as guests," Kaidman explained to Mox.

Mox wondered if he wasn't walking into some kind of trap. He still wasn't sure he could trust this man, even though he had saved his life. Or maybe he didn't actually rescue him from bandits, after all Mox was mostly unconscious and did not recognize the faces of his captors. He decided to come up with a plan to escape once he reached the witch doctor's dwelling. Perhaps he could wander upon some traders and they could point him in the direction of the City.

Mox continued to watch Kaidman waver with each step, as if he was losing against the heat.

It was a bit difficult, the journey; every step he took ached his body, weighed down by himself and his sword. But every step he took would ensure his safety, Kaidman thought to himself. It'd be difficult to survive otherwise.

"After we make a stop here, there'll be an oasis about two miles Southwest, and we'll be thirty miles away from the city. We'll get some water, hopefully find something to eat, and we have another... six miles or so until we get to a river." It was a bit awkward traveling with someone else along his path; it wasn't something he had done in years.

An oasis, water, food. It all seemed very altruistic of the stranger. Mox wanted to lower his guard, but he wasn't sure of this man's capabilities or motives. For the time being he would watch and wait.

"Your friend is by that river?"

"No, we're almost to my friend who has a dwelling somewhere among the sands and rocks over there," Kaidman pointed out. "Do you know anything about a man named Jolo Grossman? I've been trying to find him."

"The ranger?"

"That's him. You got any word on maybe his ugh... recent business?"

"No. I stay in the city. Business?"

"Yeah... I'm just trying to track him down, see what I should be looking out for among these deserts," Kaidman explained. The warrior took another few steps before stopping and going onto one knee. Clutching the side of his chest where he was shot, he looked down and closed his eyes.

"Whoa hey," Mox rushed to his side. He saw that the man was clutching his chest. Perhaps some sudden pain had just struck him.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah... I think my ribs are broken. It's been quite difficult to walk with it, and still carry my weapon, but we're almost there," Kaidman said. He pushed himself to stand, and stiffened his posture. He took a deep breath in, then let it out. "Let's not get stuck out in the open, Sun's strong."

If this stranger had really saved his life, the least Mox could do was offer some aid, "You want me to carry your sword for you?"

"If you could, it'd be nice." Kaidman then took the sheath and blade off his belt, going to hand it to his companion. If Mox were to be as devious as most others he met out here, he would've thought Mox would've tried to take advantage of his severely injured state. If he wasn't able to rely on... unconventional means, Kaidman would've been dead already.

Mox took the blade, hefting it upon his shoulder. It was a simple sword, a bit heavy for someone who was wounded like Kaidman. It could use some reforging. His own personal blade, which was perhaps somewhere else by now as thieves must have taken it after he was knocked unconscious, was not as heavy as this sword. However, it was just as useful, perhaps even more so than this particular sword.

He grasped the blade with both hands and swung it around in the air, testing its weight and handle. It moved with strength, not grace or anything fancy. It performed its job, nothing more, nothing less.

"A fine sword. Could be better though," he chose not to say more.

Kaidman was wounded, Mox knew it wasn't really an appropriate time to talk about swords. He returned the blade to his shoulder and continued.

"Yeah, I know. I haven't refined it so much, even though I've had to use it quite a bit. The blade's getting dull and I think I have a way of lightening then handguard, but I'm not so sure," Kaidman went on. He chose to talk about it, keeping his mind away from the pain.

"I could give it a look, I'm a smith," he massaged the hilt, letting his thumb wander along the bottom of the guard's engravings.

"If you could, it'd be nice."

-

Jolo and his accompanying ranger had found a group of traders who were stranded in some dunes overlooked by a number of canyons and plateaus. Upon closer inspection, they weren't really traders, nor were they stranded. They were bandits, and they were dead. One had been pinned down by his mount at the time of death. The Grelb beast was dead like its rider. The rider was crushed and he probably retched blood as evidenced by the pool of dark red that was now dried into the sand, stained on his cheeks, and washed across his crooked incisors.

Two others were hacked and sliced apart, they laid on the dune bed letting the wind bury them slowly.

Another body was found separated from the rest, it looked as though he had been flung backward. His throat had been cauterized, and his eyes remained dead opened. His blood and flesh were dissected into bits upon the sand.

Were these the same bandits that had attacked Protectorate City several days ago?

They checked the bandits' belongings, for they had not been looted by other rogues as it seemed. There was nothing interesting to be found, just a few pieces of rocks, pouches of dust, and supplies for the desert such as canteens filled with water. Nothing out of the ordinary, they were expecting weapons, the kind that could have cracked the city's wall with a loud boom and smoke. But it was unusual to find rocks and dust.

Jolo decided he would hold on to the pouches of dust, bandits did not carry pouches of dust without a reason.

"Hey, chief!" the other ranger called to him.

"What is it Portia?" he replied in a smooth rasp.

"Tracks, wandering into the canyon."

"Bandits?"

"Not sure."

"Be on guard then."

The two followed the trail into the twisting canyon.

-

Eventually, Mox and Kaidman came to a a large rock wall, extending for miles it seemed. The two walked along it slowly until they came upon a large wooden door braced with metal binds.

"This is my friend's house...

Mox's eyes scaled the wall for a bit until they returned to the wooden door.

"She...lives in here?" he asked.

It was unexpected, how could anyone possibly live in such a place? He had to take a couple of steps back to survey the rock wall once more before he took Kaidman's sword and let it rest against the wall by the door. Rather than directly answer him, Kaidman decided to knock on the door, rather loudly as the door seemed to be thick. A moment passed in silence as the wind rustled against the scarce brush and sand, and the door finally opened. An elderly woman stood, only a little over five feet, dressed in a manner so that most of her body was covered, except her hands and face.

"Seems like you've been out and about, Clara-"

"Kaidman?" the old woman said shortly. "What sort of banditry are you practicing bringing people I don't know here?"

Her tone was a bit crass, as many older people were.

"I'm injured... I need your help," Kaidman told her.

"Well I'll help you, not... whoever that is."

Mox's eyes went wide, she was addressing him.

"Mox," he decided to introduce himself. He saw she was a bit frosty, ironically.

"Anyways... you know your friend can't come in," the woman spoke.

"He knows, now let's go inside, before it gets later, I have places to be," Kaidman pushed.

"You and your desert hermit whatever it is you do these days? Come on in..." she finally said. Kaidman made sure to pick up his sword before walking into the woman's home. The door shut behind him, leaving Mox standing in the sand.

-

At least he took the sword, Mox wouldn't need to resort to thievery. He walked around for a bit, before he began to wander away from the dwelling etched into the canyon wall. He often looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was following him.

He had never been to Bane Canyon, for all he knew, he could have been wandering in a circle around the old crow's home. Each rock formation seemed to look like one that he had previously passed. There were large orange boulders, jagged and solid. They were stacked atop each other in all manners. Some of the stones had old markings of ancient script that no longer had any meaning to those presently living. It was possible that some ancient and intelligent race put these stones together as path markers for their travels, choosing to erect monoliths at key forks in the canyons. Perhaps it was ancient Drakyvarian script, as Mox often recalled that their kind would often make claims as to being the oldest race on M'Sal.

This was all wandering thought for Mox. The average human, however, would have fallen under worse hallucinations and delusions for going without water as long as Mox had.

He came upon another rock formation. It looked familiar as if he had seen it before. No. He had seen it before.

He looked around, swallowing what little saliva he had.

"What...the hell..."

He decided to go off to the passage on his right. He had to get out of the canyon, but it seemed every two steps he took forward was always one step back to the original point. At a certain fork he realized he didn't even remember the way back to the witch doctor's home.

The afternoon sun began to beat down on him.

He decided to fall into the shade of the overlooking canyon cliff to recuperate.

-

The door to the woman's home opened, and Kaidman showed himself as ready as ever.

"Now I don't want you getting into those meak scraps you get into," she told the swordsman.

"You know I had to," Kaidman responded. "There's something weird going on with the bandits lately, maybe it's connected or not, but I have every intent to break it."

"Ugh... where's your friend there?"

"What do you mean?" The question made Kaidman look around frantically. He saw footprints slowly fading away in the sand as wind blew grains of ground rock all around. "Thank you for your help, Ayleth, but I need to find Mox now."

The man took off in a sprint, following the faded path. To find the smith dehydrated and dying would be something he'd rather not have to face. He ran for some time before he finally reached a shady part of the canyon. Mox was laying in the sand, dehydrated as Kaidman had thought.

"I'm not sure what you're doing wandering off. I could leave you here to die, and not a bad thing would happen to me. You know that, right?" Kaidman asked, with all intention to make the smith reflect upon his futile wandering. "For a few days we've been walking among the desert, where most would die. I haven't let you down yet."

Mox gazed in the direction from where the voice came, his eyes wandering up until it reached a gleaming countenance.

He was sweating profusely, but not as bad as had he been out of the shade. So he felt a bit of guilt for wandering off from the stranger, and he had his reasons.

"I was...just...going for a walk. You have any water?" he wiped his forehead.

By now his hair was as soggy as his tunic.

"Here," he said, taking a flask from his belt. Tossing it in the air, it landed on Mox's stomach. "Now I have to find out where exactly we need to go from here. If you want, you can come along."

Strangely enough, the man began climbing the canyon wall; no safeties, no spotters, he began putting hand over hand to climb what seemed to be a forty or fifty foot cliff.

"We should be able to see the city," he told the smith. Perhaps he wasn't convinced he was getting anywhere he should, and the man should see for himself the path they were set on. Reaching for a grip, he continued to climb, regardless of whether Mox was coming or not.

Mox took the flask and took some earnest sips, quenching the dryness that lingered in his throat. He watched as Kaidman grappled and tried to find grips along the various little ledges and outcroppings that jutted from the wall. He watched with widened eyes, for he had never seen anyone try to climb a rock wall without harnesses, ever. Not even in his days as a miner.

"Are you out of your mind?" he called out, see the city? Is this guy serious?

"Hey! Hey!" It was no use, the other man seemed intent on climbing.

It seemed the man could handle himself fine as he continued to climb steadily. Mox took another swig, feeling that he needed to down a bit of the soreness in his throat.

It was not but twenty minutes until Kaidman reached to top of the cliff. There was a small plateau in which Kaidman could stand and observe his surrounding. In front of him, in about twenty miles of open desert was the city. Looking off to his left, he could see not too far was the river he wanted to get to after meeting Ayleth, and from there, some rock formations lead to a five mile stretch between canyon and Protectorate City. Maybe two or three more days of travel, and Mox would be back to the city.

"It's too bad you didn't decide to come up, you're missing a lot!" Kaidman yelled down. His words echoed in the rocks below.

He stood above all other nearby surroundings, some mountains way off to the West. In fact, turning around, he could see one of the bordering Solarian posts eighty or more miles away.

This guy's fuckin' crazy. Mox shook his head. He looked up to the cliff, Kaidman had disappeared beyond the edge.

"Hey!" he called out, hoping the man might have heard him.

He resigned himself to a sigh and just sat back into the shade, taking another swig to satisfy what he had lost in sweat as he waited for Kaidman to come down.

If only the layman were more interesting," Kaidman thought. But he had accomplished what he needed to do; he knew where he was now, and knew where he was headed.

"Wait there, Mox," he called down. Looking on the other edge of the cliff he looked down; there was a a surface he could simply slide down. His boots could surely handle it, and no one was around for him to expose his magic to on this side of the cliff. Planting one foot on the rock wall, he lifted his other and let himself begin to slide down the rockface. Locking his arm out, he prepared his strength as he plummeted towards the ground. A wave of energy shot out from his hand, spiraling from his shoulder. It slowed his fall enough that he was able to catch himself in a standing position. Soon enough, he walked the distance around the cliff and returned to the smith.

"Ready now? We got another two or three miles until the next water source," Kaidman said.

Mox sighed, "Alright, let's-"

He was cut off at that moment by the voice of an older man. It was a hoarse and dry voice.

"And where do you think you're goin' boys?"

Mox turned in the direction of the voice, to see a man of average height in a dark coat, with a scabbard holstered and hanging loosely from it. An emblem rested on his wide brimmed hat. His eyes were dark beneath the brim, as dark as his skin, only his graying beard could be seen stretched by the smile on his face. One of his hands held onto a pistol loosely, as though he was just about to raise it at Mox and Kaidman, but declined in doing so once he recognized them.

Behind him was another figure, a lady as evidenced by her long brown hair. Her boots were heeled and she stood with a hand on her hip. Her coat was very much similar to that of the man in front of her, but shorter in length, running only to her knees. She was clad in grey inside the coat. Her face was one that had seen much. It was as dry as the desert sand, no makeup, nothing flashy or alluring. She carried a sword just like the man, but she also had a rifle strapped to her back.

"Jolo! I was looking for you. I was afraid you stopped doing your job," Kaidman sprang.

The bearded man rolled his eyes and shook his head.

[Co-written with VindicatedPurpose and Kuroe]

93rd Day

Protectorate City

"You're not seriously thinking of doing this, are you?" Shari's question was met with a blank look from Eian. The kind of look that assured her of his complete seriousness.

"This is... This isn't the smartest idea you've ever had, Eian..." Shari mumbled. Talking to Eian was like talking to a wall. "We're damned if we do and damned if we don't, I suppose..."

Eian shrugged in response. "This is the best way to find Mox. Leaving and going back with the letters without looking would be far worse than not."

They had been about to do just that, actually, when Shari had read the poster aloud. Now, much to her dismay, they were headed out to kill bandits and a man that may or may not even be alive anyways. Shari even knew that Eian hated these odds. Normally, he wouldn't even bother finding a target like this, or ask to be payed extra by their employer. What made this assignment different? Eian flat out refused to tell her anything about the damned thing. So here they were, going off to fight bandits in the middle of the desert. Maybe there had been something in the stew Eian had ate the other night...

"Eian, do you even know what this Mox guy looks like?"

"No."

Shari waited for him to continue. He didn't. It was obviously a sign for her to be quiet and wait. Or something. She couldn't really tell what he was thinking right now.

-

Noon quickly came upon the Dome, but much more than that was the crowd of people assembled to take on a little bandit hunting in return for rewards. It was an assortment of various peoples and species. There were humans, Drakyvarians, Vaul, lizardmen, and so on. They were dressed in all sorts of garb, but most were adventurers as evidenced by their weapons and armor. Others were simply lured by the prospect of bezants thus one could see those who were beggars, others who were merchants, and others who were simple folk.

They came to hear information that was to be crucial to their objectives. Each man had their own motives; they conversed among themselves for a time.

The surrounding streets were empty, save for the shopkeepers standing outside their businesses to watch the commotion. In front of the Dome, there was an elevated platform from which the council members often gave public speeches, whether it was for political reasons or they just wanted to hear the sound of their voices, nobody knew and nobody cared.

"Thank you, one and all for coming here this day," spoke Nabis Alaunte, one of the seven council members present that day at noon.

He spoke with a firm and dignified voice, one that might have belonged to a man of wisdom and honor, one that was almost unheard of from a council member.

He was the oldest of all the council members with a white beard and a mane of white hair separated into short and straightened rows of pony tails streaking backward in a manner that almost looked like he was wearing a bunch of feathers. He was also taller than the rest, and his sharpened eyebrows and hawkish eyes lent a dark and calculating air to him. He wore a bronze cuirass over his tunic and his arms were protected by bronze vambraces. He stood before the rest of the seven on the platform, as the rest of them had conferred onto him the role of leading the council perhaps due to his age. Nabis had been elected to the council two times before already, the only council member to have been re-elected mainly because he has been on good terms with nearly everyone.

He was in his villa when he heard of the attack on the 90th, he immediately asked if any of the other council members had been harmed, then he set about fortifying his territories in case the bandits were aligned with any of his rivals. Then he went along with the proposal to have freemen go after the bandits because it was a more convenient solution to what appeared to be a perpetual bandit problem that was not being handled correctly by Jolo and the rangers.

Nabis continued, "By now, I am sure all of you have heard of the attack on our great and prosperous city on the 90th day of the 514th year of our Sun Lord's ride. They attacked without warning, and several of our citizens have been kidnapped," the old politician paused.

"We believe it is very likely that they may have sold them into slavery or killed them already. Whatever it is, we expect you to hunt them down and either kill them or take them prisoner. If you come across any survivors, bring them back to the city."

"The perpetrators are extremely dangerous as we have already seen. We advise you to take caution before accepting our call. However, if you do indeed rise up, then you have our permission to confiscate whatever personal belongings they have, weapons, bezants, and so on. The hunter with the highest number killed or captured will receive the reward of 300 bezants from the city. If you kill, you will have to record where you found them and bring back the heads for us to count. You are also free to work together with others present here today," Nabis concluded.

"Is there anything else that my fellow council members wish to add?" he turned to the rest of them, they looked to each other and shook their heads.

"Very well," the old council member returned to the crowd, "Happy hunting."

The councilors descended from the platform and returned to the Dome.

-

Around Bane Canyon

The sun beat ever stronger than before in the day. Jolo followed by the woman, Kaidman and Mox walked through the rocky sand as they approached a more open area where two saddled animals stood awaiting for the Rangers' return. They were a pair of Yakolas, four legged creatures of yellowish orange skin, a skin that was very thin because they had no need for insulation.
They were even toed ungulates with long upright necks. It wasn't long before they returned and mounted them. Kaidman sat behind Jolo and Mox behind his partner in justice, and the animals began heading off through the open sands.

"Is there any trend in bandit activity out in the deserts now, Jolo?" Kaidman asked as the animals' run concealed their words.

"I wouldn't suppose I know too much about it, but a trend? Seems a bit disturbin'," the Ranger answered. "What do you think you've found?"

Kaidman gripped the frontiersman's shoulder tightly as he almost lost his balance in the gallop. Straightening himself out, he opened his mouth to speak again.

"I think some group of people are planning to bomb somewhere; there's been some exchanging of gunpowder and canisters you'd use for the sort of thing out in the desert. I've done my best to get close without giving myself away, but I could only see and hear so much."

The Ranger could only smirk at the comment, "You're a bit late to the party, son."

"What do you mean?" The thought of letting a horrific event such as that occur made Kaidman tense.

"A couple days ago, an explosive went off near the City, took out a portion of the wall. We had some wounded and others missin'."

"That's funny, a couple days ago, a group of bandits came barreling out of Protectorate City with a hostage on the back of one of their grelbs. And that's how I came upon Mox, sitting with your friend there. He's from the city, apparently a smith."

Jolo was silent for a moment, connecting the dots in his head.

"You killed those bandits."

The fact left Kaidman dumbstruck, "How do you know that?"

"Three days later, I find some bodies on a main road leading to Solaria. Looked like they might have carried hostages too. They had weapons, so they weren't traders. They hadn't been robbed, so whoever killed them, obviously wasn't after their possessions. The only skilled warrior, that I know of in that part of the desert, who would be willing to take on bandits like them would be..." The old ranger let that sink in.

"Kid, didn't I ever tell you to leave that shit to the rest of us?" Jolo asked as he reined his mount forward with an increase in pace "Not that it matters anymore since you're still in good shape."

The old man was unsure how he managed to survive the confrontation, but he was glad that Kaidman did.

"And since those bandits are dead. The trail's pretty much gone cold. Funny."

Mox took everything in as he sat behind Jolo's accompanying ranger, Portia, his hands were wrapped across her stomach.

"Try anything funny and I'll chop both your hands off," she had warned.

"Don't worry, I need my hands to make a living. I'm just gonna hold on so that I don't fall off," Mox replied.

"Chief, what are we gonna do with him?" Portia referred to her passenger.

Jolo looked over to the bearded blacksmith but said nothing.

"Alright, so I killed your bandits, and I have someone you might be interested in. We're headed to the city, and I suppose I can hang around until the morning; but I don't want to be around here long. You know how I am, being a caveman and all."

Jolo scoffed at the smart aleck response, "Don't worry kid, you'll be back in your cave pretty soon."

"Hey, don't take it personally. Maybe some day you'll learn," Kaidman told the Ranger.

The group rode off through the sands toward the city.

[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, Dementedness, Redred33mer, conor]

96th Day

Protectorate City

Airship Docking

The group watched as an airship pulled into the hangar. They stood in the middle of a group of patiently waiting passengers on a departure platform several feet off the ground. Eian and Shari had their belongings bare to the rest of the travelers. Others could tell that they were itinerants, not city-dwellers.

Kaidman waited with the messengers and Jolo's friend, Yeron. There was a bit of a lull in this part of town, the excitement of the blast and seemingly random attacks on Protectorate City seemed to have calmed down in only a few days, but it was surely still a hot topic. The young swordsman looked at the messengers who only tagged along for the receiving of payment.

Portia stood in the back watching their conversation with interest. Her eyes shifted to each one of them from time to time before resting on Kaidman. There was something off about him, but that was nothing more than a feeling. She had seen him fight, was it luck? No man was ever lucky. He was hiding something. Yeron's presence, though, was unexpected, he was a possible threat to her plans. She scanned the platform for Melio, landing upon a drak who's face was covered beneath a wide brimmed hat.

He returned her gaze from his end as he was separated from her by a throng of passengers waiting to board. The gray-scaled Drak watched the group closely amid the crowd. He recognized the two desert walkers who were the messengers. He also spotted Jolo, who was supposed to be dead. The younger man was likely part of their entourage. The older man, he had the bearings of a ranger. He looked somewhat familiar. Where was Jolo?

"How much exactly are you looking for in compensation? If you had to put a number in bezants on it?" Kaidman asked.

"We were promised two hundred fifty," Shari spoke.

She was as candid as ever, her partner, Eian remained quiet.

"I'll remember that," Kaidman noted. He recalled their being an agreement that they would get a cut of the treasure, if it was real that is. And whatever may be hidden out in the desert could be worth much more. He'd rather not have his new friend, a weaponsmith with his forge just obliterated, be schemed out of a chance to recover well from his misfortune.

"It is quite a bit less than what the city was promising in exchange for bags full of bandit heads and hands," Eian added, "We were hoping we could sustain ourselves a bit and work some other odd jobs if we could not find the receiver of the letter."

"Your friend sounds like he's in a bit of trouble," Shari glanced at Kaidman.

"He was. I must question why he has been the target of an attack like this. Who did he know? And what was known by them? It seems someone went to considerable lengths to track messengers like you and try to assail you. This is while they were trying to kidnap Mox," he explained.

"We're just messengers, we know nothing of the politics that plague your friend," Eian replied in his tactiturn manner. He added nothing more to what he thought was a sufficient answer.

"What do you know?" Kaidman directed his question at Yeron.

"I honestly wish I could answer that for you. I've been out in the desert so long, and it's hard to get believable stories from people on their travels. I rushed back as soon as I got solid intel that the attacked had happened. Too late to do anything of course but I figure something like this Jolo could use another rifle around."

Yeron stroked his beard and gazed out into the distance.

"Something don't feel right though, yanno? Treasure in the middle of the desert, free, no strings attached treasure. Combine that with all the happenings recently it seems damn suspicious. Not that I mind, hell my ol' trigger finger was getting itchy anyway" finishing with a hearty chuckle and wink in Kaidman's direction.

"Yeah, well whoever's interested in our suffering is playing for the win. I cracked my ribs a few days ago taking a bullet in my armor, when I found Mox," Kaidman told the Ranger. "And they seem to have numbers, too."

"Damn, ribs are a painful one. Nasty bit of hurting in that."

"It's fine to have the numbers but it won't do a load of good if you've got the mental capacity of a headless Yakola."

Shari giggled, "I've seen those around, they make better meat than mounts."

Eian cleared his throat at her comment, "I don't believe that treasure is anywhere close to free."

"I agree, they're damn tasty." He replied to the young girl. "Well knowing our luck it probably won't, but time will tell what price has to be paid. If any."

Kaidman considered the situation for a moment before he said aloud, "I almost want to go myself, for fear of harm and loss of any one of you. We wouldn't want the few that have important pieces to this puzzle to be lost. But if I do go, I'm also afraid you may not hear from me again."

"Careful there, some of that is for us," Shari clipped.

"Shari," Eian cut in.

"No, 250 bezants worth is yours. You just said, and that's if it even exists," Kaidman answered sharply.

"I just wanna shoot some bandits."

"And that attitude will find you dead," Kaidman replied.

"Well I'm gonna die someday anyway, if I can go down making those sons o' bitches scream then i'll die happy. I hate bandits, they're scum."

"Yeah, and Jolo isn't too far off with his age. If he and you were to just drop dead that'd upset the Rangers as a whole mighty well. Ever hear the saying, 'live to fight another day?'" Kaidman responded to Yeron. He was getting restless just standing there and began to pace a little bit, looking around. He spotted a hooded woman and fixed his eyes upon her. It was the Ranger they were with yesterday.

"Sure I have, but there's a reason to my madness. I've seen things that will haunt me. I've put bullets through the skulls of men who were lucky to die so easy. It's hell out there, and I know you know it. But the only way I can do this day after day is if I go out with the expectation of not coming back. That way I don't have to worry about emotion effecting judgment. If I do come back in one piece then I count my lucky stars and go again tomorrow. It's a vicious cycle but if you go in with no expectations then nothing can go wrong."

There was a void in the conversation following the veteran's words. Numerous other mouths speaking in various corners of the hangar filled the lull.

"Portia, is it?" Kaidman called, trying to remember her name.

"Coming to join the party?" Her stance was questionable, as it seemed she had been standing there for a bit. The fact made him uneasy; she had no reason to stay back like that, and she had left the previous night for a rather guessable reason.
Yeron leaned against a wall. Maybe Kaidman wouldn't understand but hell everyone has their own way of coping. He snapped out when Kaidman began talking to Portia.

"Ha, tell you what. I ain't seen a soul better with a blade than Portia. She'll gut a man before he even realizes what's happened. I'm glad she's a ranger, otherwise I might just have nightmares of her roaming the desert for the other side" he chuckled once more carrying a smile that would light up anyone's day.

Portia eyed the warrior closely, she remained aloof of their conversation, but her ear was interested in what they had to say. She smiled a modest smile in reply to Yeron's comment about her blade work before she turned to Kaidman, "Don't let me stop you."
Kaidman considered her words. What exactly did she mean by that?

"I have nowhere to go to be stopped. A possible few bandits doesn't mean very much to me," he stated plainly. "What makes you think you're in my way?"

Her lips remained closed as Mox and Jolo rejoined them.

Jolo puffed away with a cigar tucked to the side of his mouth, Mox was in tow gripping a long slab of bladed metal that he had retrieved from his forge. It was the only useful thing that still remained, valueless, but still useful. He could hack a bandit in half with it if he wanted to. It was wrapped up in bands of fabric that he found strewn on the ground. If he had the time, he would have shaped it into smoother steel with which to protect himself with. The two of them emerged from the crowd to join the others already waiting for them.

"Did you all get along while we were gone?" Jolo asked.

To which Kaidman simply ignored the question, continuing to stare at the figure that kept itself mysterious. He chose to ignore Yeron's comments as well, as he was a more foolhardy individual. On some level, you had to be to be a Ranger, but Yeron's overt headstrong nature was excessive to the point of being careless. It's why he went to Jolo rather than Yeron first if there was a problem among the sands.

---

The group was at the van of the passengers onboard the platform. Jolo spotted a ship captain as he was ordering his crew mates to unload supplies from his ship.

"Excuse me sir, are you headed to Spire Canyon by any chance?"

The man turned to Jolo, "Spire Canyon? No sir, we're headed east."

Jolo nodded his head at the man's reply, Spire Canyon was west. Jolo rejoined the group as they searched for an available ship.

"Jolo, do we really need an airship to get out to Spire Canyon? It's at most three days of walking, if you only do ten miles a day that is," Kaidman complained. He wasn't one for getting tangled in the mess of civilization's organized chaos, though he admired it. Societies made things possible which were not possible before.

"Is it now? That's three days of non-stop walkin'. We could probably get there in a day and be back in two."

The old ranger paused, rubbing his beard, which had since the ninetieth, regrown. He had not the time to condition his facial hair, but such was the life of a ranger.

"But somethin' tells me that we might not be headin' back," Jolo swung a look at Kaidman, "Call it a gut feelin' kid. 'Sides, I'm sure you've never flown befo'."

Taro overheard the man, as he was dealing with a delivery. Some letters to various people, some tried to kept their faces hidden but did it poorly, and one of the letters seemed to cause some stir among the person who got it. Taro couldn't tell if it was good news or bad. He did know however, that he and Vander were going past Spire Canyon.

Kaidman followed along before having the chance to ask, "Jolo, you're talking as if you're getting to old for this stuff. I don't mean to be rude, but maybe you should skip out on this adventure. I can get to Spire Canyon and back without an issue, and if something went wrong, you'd know." The young swordsman looked at Jolo, his brow furrowed; his friend had been a Ranger, a self-perpetuating entity, for at least as long as Kaidman had been alive. Perhaps Jolo was getting too old.

Jolo took another puff from the still lit cig; he learned to sustain them for quite a bit longer than most smokers. Even if he barely smoked as much as most smokers. He considered Kaidman's points carefully, or appeared as though he were.

"Sounds like you're the one callin' me old, but don't worry I'm not that old. We're goin' along because I think that treasure has a trail to it. Seems a bit coincidental that bandits kidnap that boy yonder," Jolo jabbed a thumb back at Mox, who was with the rest of the group, "Then we return to the city, where he receives a letter and death threats aimed at keepin' him away from some supposed treasure. It's what I do. So help me find a ship."

"Maybe I can help?" Taro asked, walking over to them. "My father is the Captain of the 'Morning's Light,' and we are headed that way, if I heard you right and you're headed toward Spire Canyon. It happens to be on our route, not even a detour. Good prices."

Taro made it sound genuine, but Vander had told him at least some of that phrasing. Just to be safe. Taro might be a good shot for his age, but he was only average with words. Vander was typically better at it. "Our ship is right this way, if you want to see for yourself".

As Jolo heard the boy, his gaze shifted to Kaidman, who shrugged at the mention of boarding the ship called Morning's Light, before he returned to the boy. A smile slowly formed on his lips, "Well, lead the way then, young man."

Jolo gestured with a head nod at the others to follow. Mox, Portia, Yeron, and the two messengers joined them.

Melio watched from afar, he remained a spy in the backdrop of the crowded hangar. He watched the group board the ship that was known as Morning's Light. He eyed the contours of the ship and the little details that separated it from the others in that hangar. He made a note of remembering the little boy's face. After he had seen all that he needed to see, he turned his gaze toward Portia. She replied with a batting of her eyelashes. He smiled and turned a corner, departing from the platforms.

Yeron kept quiet about the whole situation, he never liked flying. Suspended high up above the desert on a flimsy platform just didn't appeal to him for some crazy reason. Still, he remained silent and followed along. The whole idea of this trip felt off. Even here now in the airship platform he felt an uneasiness. The years of training kicked in and his eyes jumped from person to person. He peered into every dark corner as he passed. All the while clutching at the rifle he had slung on his shoulder. At least in the desert the bandits had few places to actually hide, here someone could disappear in the blink of an eye. Something shady folk tended to do when rangers were about.

"Oh," Kaidman interjected, "did I mention that cavemen usually don't carry money with them?" In a way, he felt guilty, for he needed to rely on others because he could not pay the fee himself.

Mox overheard Kaidman, "He's not the only one."

Jolo turned to look at the two younger men, he shook his head and smiled, "Freeloaders."

"Well, it's a trading ship, so you can use cargo as barter if needs be," he noted as he led them toward the ship. It wasn't uncommon for trading vessels to accept cargo as payment. And it was usually a lot easier. The value of money altered itself on where you were. Cargo did not vary as much.

"We have plenty of room, so you don't need to worry about space".

“How much would it cost to take us to Spire Canyon?” Jolo asked.

Just Spire canyon, Mox wondered about the return trip. Will there be a return trip?

Taro told them the price. It was more then land transport, but reasonable for airship prices. Plus, Airships would be safer then traveling on the ground. And if anyone took a good look, they would see that they had plenty of cargo room because their airship had a large cargo hold.

As the discussion goes on outside of his cabin, the assassin showed the tip of his nose to the sun. He was leaning against a shadowed wall, trying to eavesdrop into the discussion. 'Spire Canyon, hm?' He thought to himself, walking towards outside of the small room. He watched the group of misfits, a small smirk on his face, but his gaze quickly met with Jolo's figure. He blinked once, twice before realising his luck. He looked around. Too many witnesses with very little openings. He shrugged; he had time. Nonchalantly, the man walked towards the group, approaching Jolo.

Mox saw that the Boy ran ahead, probably to alert the owner of the ship. He wondered what a kid was doing in the hangars. The others, Portia, Eian, and Shari went along ahead of him.

"Alright move along," Jolo watched the group merge into the crowd of the airship's departing passengers.

He shook his head at Yeron, "Like herding Grelbs."

"Jolo!" Seth called out as he approached. "I need to talk to you," his eyes then swept over to the other people before coming back to the man he was talking to, "And in private. It'll take only a few seconds."

"Do I know you?" Jolo's eyes narrowed at the stranger dressed in a tatter of scarves.

He snickered a bit, resting a hand on his hips. "Well, no, of course you don't." He shrugged. "Workin' under some Claude person. Look, I'm not here to cause trouble. If you really want, I can leave my belongings to your group if you really want to make it safe."

The old ranger eyed the stranger, he was an odd fellow. Jolo brushed him off and continued.

Seth shrugged. "Oh well, a ranger like you probably already heard of drakyvarians wanting your head on a diner plate, so I'll pass my turn." He would say, turning away before bidding a farewell to Taro and Vander walking away, outside of the ship.
Jolo paused in his tracks as he heard this, he turned to glance at the fellow who had his back turned toward Jolo as he walked away. The ranger dismissed his words, but anybody who had lived as long as he did, especially in the manner that he lived, would have taken any words from a stranger as more than what they were. Prudence was demanded.

The cargo was tucked away and the passengers were assigned whatever quarters to sleep in. Vander told everyone the rules of the ship.

"No shooting each other, no explosives, play nice, no stealing. I keep a tight watch over the cargo, and trust me, we will know and we will find you. We will employ the utmost safety and security. Please remember to not hog supplies either. Those that are on this ship are also closely watched."