The air is hot and hazy and the sun is already beating down on Athas' parched landscape. The smell of mekilot droppings baking in the dawn sun fills the air outside of the gates of Urik, mixing with the smell of two dozen gathered humans and demihumans. A squad of four white-cloaked templars patrols the outside of the walls, eyeballing the crowd of misfits and mercenaries waiting to be contracted by House Stel as caravan guards and hands. A short and squat bald human with a well-weathered face and a gleaming steel sword on his hip exits the gates. He approaches the templars and converses with them.
"Aye. They're perfect for this run." The man rubs his chin.
"How so?"
"They're expendable."
The templars laugh then move on as the bald man steps forward, throwing his arms up into the air to make himself the center of attention for a moment. "Alright you rabble, we are loading up the last of the cargo and will be ready to move out in an hour. This is your last chance to change your mind about working for House Stel. If you desert the company once we are on the road, you will be blacklisted by us and every other trading house on Athas. I am Kor of House Stel, the caravan master for this run. You will do exactly what I say. Got it?" Withouot waiting for an answer Kor turns and heads back inside the walls of Urik.
Garbed in drab linen clothes and shielded by a straw hat, this particular vagabond doesn't stand out too much from the others. Lightly armored for mobility and bearing a fire-hardened spear, he listens to the caravan driver, then glances at some of the other nearby 'guards,' such as they are. This hopeful is probably not particularly noteworthy, as he lacks the powerful build or dangerous weapons of a soldier and seems more like the run of cannon fodder just looking for any job to get by. With only his garb and a heavy pouch at his belt he hardly seems equipped for a long desert journey. At least the set of multiple waterskins lashed about his torso with leather thongs are an indication that he's not a total fool.
Ko-tik towers over the arrayed sentients, lightly clicking her mandibles together any time one comes too close. Her collection of weapons rattling against her chitin as she shifts to watch the bald man, she waits for the caravan master to stop wasting her time and get the caravan on its way.
The nondescript human man pulls on one of the many straps that crisscross his vest and takes a straw hat on a loop off from around his shoulder and puts it on his head to shade himself from the burning heat of the red-black sun. He shifts from foot to foot on his sandals and double-checks for the shield at his left hip, waiting there in case of adversity.
At the back of the assembled mob of hopefuls stands a tall very thin hooded-cloaked figure. it Fidgets with the cloak's reluctance to behave with the backpack while the Caravan Master speaks. As Kor moves away, the figure moves gracefully toward the front of the crowd. Pausing to regard the Thri-Kreen. The hooded figure nods respectfully. A slim hand appears from the recess of the cloak and pushes the hood back to reveal. A mass of long blonde hair accented by somewhat elongated ears marking the woman as a Half-Elf. Shifting her weight to her right leg and tightening her grip on the sack top wrapped wooden staff in her hand. This causes a long bow to fall from it's proper place to catch on the woman's belt pouch.
She mumbles in Elvish as she struggles with her equipment.
Smaller than an average Thri-Kreen, Pakz, as most bipeds had grown accustomed to calling her, stood at the head of the cavavan away from the others. A spear in one clawed-hand and a wooden shield in the other, she surveyed the vast sandy expanse in front of them. She was far away from her own land but standing out under the sun was like being there right now. She swore she could feel the slight breeze coming off of the small oasis now. The smells were a different story though. Odors wafting up from the piles of dung, sweat dripping off all of the guards gathered around, even the hair and dander from some of the pack animals all served to create an almost palpable stench in the air. It was enough to remind her why she chose the solitary life. Still, supplies were running low and money lower still. Times were desperate and she needed herbs. Hopefully the coins from this job would be enough.
Sitting cross-legged, a massive, red-haired half giant looks up from thought as the caravan master speaks.
The scarred and tattooed monstrosity gets to his feet, secures his weapons, and simply says. "I'm ready."
Time passes and dust swirls. Every minute seems to make the day hotter. Finally the massive gates groan open, pushed by half-giant guards in full Stel uniform. A massive wagon driven by a pair of equally massive mekillots creaks forward, followed by several smaller support wagons. As the vehicles are manuevered onto the hard packed road, Kor separates various contracted guards into shifts and rotations.
A squadron of crodlu-riding scouts sprint ahead of the group. Everyone seems rather quiet for the majority of the first day.
Late in the afternoon, the scouts return and the whole procession is ordered to stop. At least a quarter hour passes before Kor and one of his scouts make their way to the rear.
"You, halfling! Our scouts have confirmed the Oasis ahead is both still there and not currently occupied by brigands. Take the rear guard and examine it to be sure it is still safe to drink and refill our supplies."
"Okay, I will do so!" said the Halfling cheerfully from the driver's seat of an enclosed wagon.
Climbing down from his perch, the Halfling petted the Mekillot that was pulling the wagon and gave him some water while speaking quietly to him.
Once he was satisfied, he turned to the assembled group and said "Should we get going?"
Clearly a bit nonplussed by the unexpectedly pleasant attitude of the halfling, the bald man with the spear hesitates momentarily, then finally says, "... yes. Let's. Lead the way."
Pausing to take a final look at the walls of Urik, feelings of both relief and trepidation fill her. This is the first time she's been traveling without the Troupe. But she knew with "That" elf in charge now, there would be no life with them anymore. She turns and seeing the caravan moving away, takes off in at an easy jog to catch up. Upon rejoining the group Ekee falls in step with the others. Choosing a position next to the Thri-Kreen and maintaining her distance from the Human and especially the Elf. The latter she expected to bombard her with racial slurs at any moment. She had learned that outside her Jazst Troupe most Elves considered her a worthless half-breed, that should have been killed at birth. The human was an unknown quality for the moment. Their varied nature had taught her long ago, that while they didn't immediately consider her an abomination. One never knew what they wanted. He could be friend or foe. The half-giant would be a powerful ally, she knew from her time in the arena his kind were great fighters. That being said, they were also deadly opponents. For now she would stay close to the huge insect-men. Having learned from her "Father" that Thri-Kreen, while fearsome warriors and known to consume other intelligent races. They would be unwavering allies once you were part of their Pack. When the halt is called Ekee moves to lean on the side of the wagon. Looking up she studies the Halfling, possibly the only one of their group more immediately distrusted and shunned than herself. Owning his own wagon, he clearly had wealth. She had known several of the diminutive race over the years. They were nimble and lethal Jasts. Also made no judgments with regard to Half-Elves. Noting with interest that the Caravan Master addressed and tasked him with the mission. She was used to following directions of the Troupe leaders. And while this wasn't a Jazst Troupe, it was her...group now.
"Will your animal be alright while we're gone?"
Ekee asks the her small companion as they head off toward the oasis.
Jaryx regards his new companions, sizing each one of them up for apparent combat effectiveness - taking note of who he felt would be able to handle themselves and who would need to be protected.
A crooked grin crosses the massive half-giant's face hearing the halfling's tone. "We should." Jaryx says in response to the halfling's question. "I'll do my best to not step on you, little one."
Ko clicks her mandibles in the equivalent of muttering annoyed. She begins to push forward as swiftly as possible, ready to slay anything that threatens her current charges.
"Anyone who would mess with Whale gets what they deserve. He's quite mean to anyone who isn't me."
Taking point as ordered, Derlan flips something from out of a pouch at the Mekillot as they pass, who greedily snatches it up and bites it down quickly.
"So, perhaps we should introduce ourselves? I'll even go first. My name is Derlan, and I am a servant of Lady Ocean." Derlan somehow manages to bow as he walks at a brisk pace.
The human cocks his head and says, "Wh... whale? What a strange name. What does it mean?"
Smiling at Derlan Ekee says.
"Pleased to meet you. I am Ekee of the Fabulous Troupe..."
She suddenly stops speaking, sighs then continues.
"I am Ekee, caravan guard for House Stel. Second shift, we're the best."
Grinning at the Halfling as they continue to walk. After a moment she says.
"I am not familiar with House Ocean. What city are they from?"
"Talk less. Work now yes? Make introduction talk leter, now quiet move to location of water take and drink." Ko-Tik obviously has not learned how to approximate the mouth sounds of lipped beings yet.
"Very well, sir Thri-Kreen. We shall go into battle without knowing who each of us is and what we can do, per your request."
"Not hunt hunt. Water hole mmost likely just water. Not just water than not battle just mminor hunt. Worry mmuch?"
"Where matters of the Lady are concerned, I always worry."
"To be concerned is prudent to worry is distracting."
Ekee says. then stops walking and adds.
"Wow I didn't think I was paying attention during those lessons. And that being said. While I agree that learning the new guy's name and skills before his first match is often unnecessary, as they will likely not survive. I would point out we are all the new guy will respect to one another."
Then resumes walking.
"Let's just get within sight of this oasis, then we can figure out a plan to scout it," suggests the bald human with the straw hat.
Jaryx nods and continues toward the oasis. " I'm not the sneakiest of sorts, but I will get involved when things inevitably go sideways."
To call this mud puddle an oasis is quite generous. There is one barely-living tree and two rotting trunks stuck in the mud surrounded by tall swamp plants. A shallow pool of brackish water sits still in the heat.
Shielding her eyes with her hand as she watches the Elf range ahead of the group, Ekee says.
"I guess she's the scout. Or as we often referred to them in the arena; bait. But it is wise to be ready should something try to take it."
She throws off her cloak to reveal well worn leather armor and the bright glint of her steel wrist razors. Also quickly but carefully she unwraps the cloth from the Impaler she had been using as a walking stick. Then planting the weapon in the sand she proceeds to ready her longbow for action.
The suntanned man frowns and tips his straw hat up slightly to better survey the dune ahead.
"If she'd waited a few seconds I could have simply cast my Will ahead and surveyed the area remotely."
"Well, it's water, so we should learn to share it, as sharing benefits everyone." said Derlan as he made his way towards the Oasis.
Dismoon knows there is something wrong immediately. A slight film covers the muds. She begins to back away, not fully understanding the nature of the danger, but sure there is something wrong here.
A creature bursts from the wet patch in front of her in a flash. It is about the size of a dwarf, but covered with wrinkled, loose, gray skin and has sharp, yellow bone spurs jutting from it's body. It launches itself at Dismoon.
Fortunately for Dismoon, the creature does not quite clear the pit effectively. One particularly sharp bone comes within a few inches of Dis' eye.
A second one bursts up about ten feet away.
Ludi pauses as the creature bursts from the hole - not entirely unexpected. His pupils dilate slightly as he exhales and concentrates, and a thin mist seems to saturate the air.
Narrowing her eyes and drawing in a breath Ekee Looses 2 arrows in quick succession at the farther creature.
Exhaling and wiping some sand from her face she says.
"Wind kicked up a bit on that last shot."
Then prepares to fire again.
Jaryx rushes in, lotulis in his hands, and takes a large, wide swing at the creature.
Dismoon manages to make a less-than-graceful attempt to put some space between her and her attacker and she is just barely able to give Ekee a clear shot. The elf's arrow snags the creature in the arm. It turns to face the elf only to end up with Jaryx slamming into it with one crescent-bladed end of his lotulis. The feral beast howls in pain as light wisps of steam peel away from the start of Ludi's deep chill.
The second beast looks ready to defend it's mate, snapping it's jaws and rustling it's bone spurs in a cacophonous warning.
Derlan surges forward, but he won't be able to reach the Elf in time.
Ko-Tik chitters angrily and pushes forward, pulling sharp blades of crystal and tossing them at her new prey.
Two chatkchas sail through the space between the wounded bog wader and Dismoon to strike the other wader in the throat and face. It gurgles in shock before falling face-first into the damp sand.
Staying back out of the fray, Ludi continues to concentrate on the first silt wader, and its cooling exoskeleton begins to condense tiny amounts of moisture from the air.
Moving forward and to the left Ekee fires another arrow at the creature if it is not engaged.
Dismoon tumbles and manuevers, placing her into an optimal position to deliver a death blow, however between Ludi using his brain to freeze the bog wader's veins and Ekee's arrow, the feral predator is laid low when she gets there.
Within seconds of the violence ending a trio of carrion birds is already circling on high thermals. The small pool is safe enough to drink, once the film of bog wader saliva is skimmed off the top.