<<>>
Sasbrek breathes in the fresh, almost cold air of the night in the desert. He doesn't care for it - as a dragon, he welcomes the heat. Still, it is nice to be able to see properly, without sun painfully shining in his eyes.
He quickly follows the wide and quite evident track he and the group left the day before when going to confront the gnolls - it doesn't really take an expert tracker to do so.
Once he gets to the site of the battle, he is almost overwhelmed by the awful smell of rotting carcasses - the sun is not too kind on dead flesh.
Covering his mouth and nose with a scarf, he reaches the bodies of the four pepole who where ambushed. He is fairly certain, from what he heard in the journal, about who Paracount Julistar is of the four. Not the halfling, for sure. And not the big half-orc either. Better be sure... he thinks. He observes the humans This one. He was beheaded because he was the leader. Better dressed. Fancy symbol on his vests. It is him.
A surge of draconic power, something seldom attempted by the kobold, and from his hands sprout sharp claws YES! The Dragon lives in me!
A few slashes, and Sasbrek cuts off the right index finger of the Paracount.
He silently gets back to camp. From the group supplies, he steals a small flask of alcohol and puts the finger inside. Scampering back into his tent, he adds the flask to the bag containing his hoard. He lies down in his bedroll, using the treasure bag as a pillow - after all, a dragon sleeps on his hoard.
We set up camp only an hour away from our destination - with our Gnoll compliment in tow, we could not risk getting closer lest their constant laughing be heard. Instead, Warris sent a small group, consisting of some of his adventurers, to scout ahead - they returned without incident (Alas), confirming that those we were tailing were indeed camped at the destination.So, we spent the day planning and resting - we would strike at night. Warris decided we would launch a two-pronged assault - the main group, consisting of his priests, his adventurers, and my group, would circle around and hit them from the side - but only [i]after we sent in the gnolls, who would go in first, hit as hard as possible, then retreat. Their leader, Mad Dogg, would remain with us, while the gnoll shaman and tracker would lead the assault. Choosing not to fight along side the gnolls was smart - in their chaotic battle formations, we would likely be as much of a target as our enemies. Instead, this way, not only do we get to weaken our enemies, but we would weaken the gnoll’s forces for later, all while conserving our own forces.[/i]
Needless to say, it went off without a hitch. Their expedition - consisting of a little over a dozen guards and a few others, were butchered. The gnolls took quite a beating as well - whereas five dozen gnolls were present when we first met them, they were down to less than three dozen after the battle. Still quite a force, but manageable should they choose to betray us. Many of them seem to dislike the current situation, and Xaven has heard them talk of mutiny - their fear of their leader is only barely held in check. We would need to get rid of them sooner rather than later. I wonder how exactly Warris plans on doing that?
Only one of our rival’s members was left alive - this man was the snitch, apparently. Not long after the battle ended, Warris sent him on a camel back to Eto - unburdened as he was, it’ll likely only take him four to five days at most - ‘just in time’, I heard Warris saying. Just in time for what?
Of our enemies’ casualties, Warris ‘collected’ their bodies for further use as well - the gnolls, meanwhile, made short work of their dead, consuming them in a massive orgy of ritualistic cannibalism and sex. That.. is not something I’ll get out of my head for quite some time. Filthy mongrels.
Heard from Lonicera that there was a second portion of this expedition - a slower, more dangerous portion that would be leaving on the 23rd, taking a longer, safer route. Wonder why? Lonicera had little else on the subject.
Found out something rather annoying about our destination after the battle. Quite simply, it was [i]not our true destination - merely a ‘checkpoint’, if you will. This checkpoint consisted of nothing but a single, massive obelisk of what appears to be obsidian standing in the middle of the sands. Apparently, this is where my job comes in at.[/i]
Warris says I need to study it to unlock.. or to reveal the route to our next destination - the ‘real’ destination. More notes on that in the coming days - I feel that I will have my work cut out for me. Best I get some rest for tomorrow.
Here, it seems, the journal is missing a few pages - looking closer, Nexander can see that five pages have been carefully cut out of the book, leaving nothing but the stubs of where the pages were attached to the binding. The next journal entry skips a few days, and its handwriting is much less neat and orderly than the previous entries - as if written with a hurried hand. To top it off, the entries are no longer written in black ink - it appears as if the remaining journals have been written in blood - or, more likely, dark-red ink that simply looks suspiciously like blood. Who would write journal entries in blood?
Ow. Using my own blood to write with - lost my ink well.[i]Warris used us - had me research the obelisk, unlocking its secrets, then stole them right from under my nose. Must have been that dwarf who got into my journal. Five days worth of notes lost! Keeping them in my head, not going to risk losing them again.
Lonicera was playing me - Wonder how long he’s had her working for him? Possible charm spell, possible manipulation through promise of wealth and power. Should have known she’d double cross me.
Gnolls ambushed us - Warris used them to take care of his ‘loose ends’ - us. We escaped, barely, via what could have only been a miracle. Probably let us escape. Scepter was horrified that Lonicera betrayed us - Hrokon gave her a farewell present to the shoulder in the form of a poisoned bolt. Said she’d die within minutes, used his best poison on her. Good riddance.
We are now fleeing with just a pair of camels and almost no supplies beyond what we had on our bodies - most of our consumables were spent just escaping. We are being hounded by gnolls - Warris has undoubtedly sent most, if not all, of the pack our way, as a solution to both getting rid of the potentially troublesome gnolls and to get rid of us. Clever. Sleep now, more fleeing tomorrow.
Running the camels nearly to death - barely keeping them alive. Can’t keep running for long. Gnolls are on our heels - they travel longer than we do, but slower. Camels won’t last another day - unless I risk using more of my magic to keep them alive. Would be low on magic if the gnolls caught up to us, however. Scepter has an idea - might look into ambushing them tomorrow. We’re nearing the rocky base of the mountains, many places to try and ambush the f&!%ers. I'm beginning to talk like Xaven.We’re also heading in the direction of the second expedition’s route - might see if we can’t meet up with them, give them a warning of what's to come. See about getting revenge on Warris.
Hand hurts, using too much blood. Will write again after tomorrow’s ambush.
If we survive.
With that, the journal ends - the outcome of the ambush mentioned by Julistar is obviously known, and with it, a potential ally lost - not that there was anything the group could have done to prevent the slaughter, as it was over long before they could have reached the battle site.
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Gi'chak ponders the final revelations of the journal, pleased that it answers the rest of his questions quite neatly. He looks around at the others, before turning to Pinkerton. "So... Do we move fast and try to catch up to Razmiran cultists, or let them keep their lead? Seem dangerous, defeated first expedition, maybe if wait long enough they turn on adventurers too, then we only have soft priests to deal with."
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"I don't see how this really changes anything. Sure, it lets us know a lot of stuff we didn't before, but we still have the same goal. If anything our quest is even more urgent now that we know Warris's group is ahead of us," Nexander says after finishing reading the journal. "Pinkerton, what is it that we're after? Why do the Razmians want it too? You not trusting us won't help anything."
The orange eyed Keleshite nodded in agreement with Nexander's words. It was time that Pinkerton told them more about what was going on. It was clear from his cryptic comments and sideways glances to and from his other companions that much more was going on under the surface. He clearly knew that Warris would be involved and the same seemed true of his rival.
"If the journal can be taken as a truth, then the first expedition is dead. We are all you have left to rely on." He said with a low voice, then gestured to the rather unusual group that made up this expedition.
Hearing the end of the journal, Unafe's face darkens. Betrayal upon betrayal.
"It sounds like we certainly need to move quickly, if we are to beat them. I'm a bit confused though as to what our next destination is. Do we need to find the obelisk that Julistar was investigating? Or -- if that's only a stepping stone on the way to our destination -- can we perhaps make up time by following the trail of Warris' party...if we can find it?"
As Pinkerton opens his mouth to respond to Nexander’s inquiries, Ibir interrupts with a derisive snort, something out of the ordinary from the normally quiet guard. ”Good luck, he doesn’t even tell his personal bodyguard half of what he needs to know to properly protect him.” The gruff Kelishite, who was still turned away from the group, shakes his head and sighs, not seeing the glare that Pinkerton was giving him for the rude interruption.
Sighing, Pinkerton turns his attention away from Ibir, allowing his glare to subside in the mean time. ”While I cannot be certain of their exact intentions, as I do not know enough about the Razmiran religion, I do know that they seek the same information as I do - information of utmost importance to my Order. Warris was a high ranking member of the Order. Only high ranking members were privy to the knowledge that leads us on this expedition now. Thus, it can only be that Warris gave his master the same such information. Needless to say, I think it would be best if such an organization does not gain access to it.”
Completely dodging the specifics of the information itself, Pinkerton continues, this time in response to Unafe’s question. ”It is not possible - the obelisk is a stepping stone, but a mandatory one. Our destination is shrouded in a powerful mirage effect - anyone not aware of the secret to bypassing this effect will simply be led astray - ending up going in a different direction or going around the site entirely. And.. the fact that Warris needed a priest to unlock the secrets sheds some insight to his own religion... Only a devout worshipper and representative of a true deity - or demigod - would be able to unlock its secrets. Thus the reason he hired a priest of Asmodeus. He likely betrayed the man to keep the secrets hidden - I almost regret not saving the Paracount, though he would have been a difficult ally at best.”
At the mention of possibly allying with Paracount Julistar were he still be alive, Aluriel grunts angrily and spits on the ground in disgust, causing Pinkerton to change the subject.
”Once we find the obelisk, we will set up camp around the structure and hold there until we can continue onwards - I do not know what we will find precisely, but I’m almost certain that I will be able to research our path forward in a shorter time than Paracount Julistar took, hopefully helping us catch up. The only issue then, would be dealing with Warris and his company. That is where you guys will come in at - you were primarily hired to deal with issues such as this, afterall.”
"," Thorgrim rumbles. "" Thorgrim is curious about the obelisk and divinations required to continue on their path. He has spent the greater part of his quest seeking to appease various Gods, though he does not possess the means to call down their gifts directly. Perhaps his past offerings will now lend themselves to the task at hand: safe passage through the strange mirage that Pinkerton alludes to. The man remained tight-lipped about information that needed to be availed them, but pressing the issue again would resolve little. He would have to remain alert to any treacheries orchestrated by the man for now.
Sasbrek squeezes his hoard bag, tapping where he thinks the vial with Julistar’s finger is Jackals with face of jackal and jackals with face of man he sentences after they’re done reading the diary.
So. We need priest, yes? he looks at ALuriel and Unafe, uncertain at what entitles you to “being a priest”. You don’t want tell us what is important, you can’t expect us to take important decisions. What informatin do we seek after obelisk? he inquires, for once feeling that the others will back him up.
Swipe swipe goes the rag across the blade. The hand continues to state out into the desert sands.
Ardeshir kept his eyes on Pinkerton. The man clearly did not want to part with his secrets and he was paying handsomely to keep them. So long as he did not violate the terms of the agreement he made with Ardeshir, the desert ranger would not press him further.
To Sasbrek's question, Unafe replies, "My people refer to me as a shaman, not a priest...but yes, I have a true connection to Gorzeh, as well as to my ancestors and to the spirits of the Great Saurians. It seems paradoxical to some, but in many ways all are the same, viewed from different angles."
She turns her head toward Pinkerton. "Whether that will allow me to help with the Obelisk, beyond my role as guard, Pinkerton might be better able to say. Certainly I will do my best if called upon."
Wiping her brow, she adds, "For now though, it seems wise to eat and get some sleep. I'm guessing we'll want to get an extra early start tomorrow."
"After the Obelisk, " Pinkerton starts, as he replies to Sasbrek's question, "We will know how exactly to bypass the mirage effect of our destination - once we arrive there, I'm not entirely sure exactly what we'll find - except that we will be arriving at a stone sepulcher wherein the knowledge I seek is somewhere entombed."
"However, due to the recent events that we've come across, speed is now of an essence moreso than previously - Warris cannot be allowed to find the information before us. As it stands, should we remain on schedule, we should arrive at the obelisk on the 2nd of Desnus, five days henceforth. Tomorrow we will be leaving the safety of the rocky terrain afforded to us by the mountains - from there onwards, it'll be nothing but sand. The Parched Dunes is likely one of the least hospitable regions of Osirion - no rough vegetation, little life, and no cover. Nothing to protect us against a sandstorm should it hit, and few ways to hide from any wildlife that does exist in the region."
"During this portion of the journey, it would probably be best if we moved as fast as possible, possibly even going as far as to force ourselves to march for longer than eight hours a day - however, I would not force that upon any of you, so I'll leave it to a vote. Rhasadal and I can use our magic to help keep the animals healthy, ensuring we won't lose them - but since you are our primary means of defense, you need to decide if you think you can handle the extra few hours of travel or not."
"And as for the obelisk itself, perhaps Unafe and Aluriel can indeed help me decipher its secrets - I honestly do not know, but I certainly plan on seeing if they are able to help, especially if it helps speed us up."
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While Pinkerton and his stodgier companions decide what to do regarding mounts and a possible forced march, Sasbrek moves towards to Ardeshir. The kobold barely spoke a word to the desert guide, but now he sees a possible topic.
“Hey. Man-archer. Hey.” he pulls the sleeve of the ranger’s vest. “So listen. Tall men from North of the Sea and priests talk a lot. But you and me, we should do thing. We don’t fear desert. We have red scales, yes?” he stops “Well, you have red skin, but is almost as good.” he chuckles. “You good guide, you know desert. I know tricks, and we are good at hiding, yes!” he shows a lot of pointy teeth in what should be a smile “We should be vanguard, go ahead and scout. We faster, you with smelly camel and me with Khossorx the Burning Scale! We go, we spy, we go back, and when priests and ox-man from north and that stupid monkey come, they know stuff we tell them, yes?”
Ardeshir bends a knee to crouch down near the curiously skilled Kobold. He knew of Kobolds of course, but had never encountered one before meeting Sasbrek. Thus far Sasbrek had dispelled most of the talk he had in regard to his kind, save for the extreme, almost humorous pride the small creatures had for their prowess.
Looking Sasbrek in the eyes Ardeshir instinctively began to weigh his companions intentions, words and deeds. He channeled his connection with the Everflame and sensed no malice. It took him a moment to understand what Sabrek was trying to say as he didn't actually have red skin, but then he realized it was a metaphor or expression to being capable in the desert.
"That is a good idea Sasbrek. We could scout ahead and search for dangers and information, but we must be wary. I do not wish the fate of our last over-eager companion to scout ahead befalling you or myself." Ardeshir spoke the common tongue of Taldan with fluency, but it was clear from the expression he as he pronounced certain words that it was not a language he found particularly attractive.
He got to his feet and turned to Pinkerton and the rest of the group. There were still logistics being discussed, but he would present the dragon-kin's idea as a possibility.
"Sasbrek and myself could go ahead of the main expedition as scouts as well. Both he and I possess mounts accustomed to the desert heat and our knowledge of the terrain is more than competant. It is a possibility to consider and decide on."
"Unafe, hop that pretty little rear of yours up here. We'll make a lot better time riding double. Aga's strong, he can carry both of us," Nexander calls over to the young shaman.
At Ardeshir’s suggestion, Pinkerton strokes his mustache, a thoughtful expression on his face. After a minute, he nods. ”That is a good idea - though I do worry about the loss of protection from you two being gone, having someone as mobile as you two check for danger ahead of us might be worth it.” At that, he motions to the inside of the pavilion's wall and conjures up an illusionary map of the region, going as far as including a scale, locations, and route. With it, he shows Ardeshir and Sasbrek their destination so the two know where to go - eighty miles away in the middle of the Parched Dunes lies their destination.
After making sure the two forward scouts know where to go, he turns to everyone else. ”So, in the morning, both groups will leave at the same time - the forward scouts will reach the obelisk in two and a half days, provided nothing slows them down. There, they will scout out the area, then head back the same way they came and rendezvous with us, yes?” Not waiting for an answer, he continues, ”As for the main group, we seek to move as fast as we can - Right now, only those on foot are slowing us down. Ibir, Unafe, Aluriel, and Gi’Chak, specifically. Nexander has offered to allow Unafe to ride with him, so that takes care of that thanks to his idea to purchase a particularly strong specimen. Gi’chak, I’ll speak with Rhasadal and see if you can’t ride in Leafroot’s branches. She should be alright with that, and I suspect you would enjoy the ride. That leaves Ibir and Aluriel - due to mount limitations, you two would need to remain walking, unless someone would allow you to ride in their place - if not, then it would be best if you could remove your armor, helping us speed up. What do you say?”
To this, Aluriel is the first to respond. ”No.” At Pinkerton’s suggestion, she bluntly flat-out refuses - as Pinkerton is about to say something to try and get her to reconsider, she interrupts. ”My armor is my most important defense - without it, I would be vulnerable. With what we’re up against, it would be better if we went slowly and cautiously, rather than run foolishly to our deaths because we were unprepared. I will not take my armor off.”
At her explanation, Ibir speaks up, surprisingly in agreement with her. ”She speaks truthfully, and as your bodyguard, I would advise following her plan. We do not know what awaits us besides our rivals - and we do not know where they are, not until our scouts return.”
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The news of the annoying lizard leaving them--even if only for a few days--was music to his ears. He grins to himself at the prospect of getting rid of the annoying kobold, always sticking his chest out and spouting nonsense about his horde. Hmph!
Gi'chak starts guiltily as Pinkerton offers to speak with Rhasadal on his behalf, jolting him from his thoughts. He can't seem to decide whether to be annoyed or pleased by the offer at first; he'd thought he'd been more subtle than that... he just didn't know how to approach her though, he didn't even know what she was.
After a few moments his features simply settle into the usual neutral mask and he gives a respectful nod. It would be good to rest his feet, and feel branches beneath them again. How long had it been... he didn't even know, it was years since they'd left the Mwangi and the things that grew in the wastes hadn't even deserved the name. He lets out a melancholy sigh, slowly coming back to the conversation at hand.
He looks between the two hold-outs, frowning thoughtfully. He was mercenary to realize that complying with his wishes wouldn't actually help him get paid at all. Haste would in fact only increases the danger.
"Maybe you should have put a clause into the contracts about fulfilling your task." he observes with a grin. If the armored pair were slowing them down though, then there would be no reason for him to ride atop leafroot though... perhaps they would still let him, but... "Surely we have enough animals to free up one or two? Then can ride like Hand man." he still didn't get what was up with that, why was he named after a hand? "My stubborn animal doesn't carry much. My jars bulky, not heavy."
Listening to the discussion between Aluriel, Pinkerton, and his bodyguard, Unafe sits in thought for most of a minute. Then, another minute, wishing someone else would speak up. Finally, in a quiet voice she says, "Thorgrim, you mentioned you'd be willing to share your steed. Perhaps Aluriel can ride with you? Or in your place?"
She pauses again, clearly uncomfortable. "Pinkerton, you perhaps know best of us what the risk is of not making haste. It seems we, your mercenaries, have found a way to travel faster. Your bodyguard understandably balks at traveling unarmored. If you believe that continuing at our current speed is acceptable then let's leave well enough alone." Another pause. "I just have images in my head. How quickly the Nurgalists descended on my people. If we'd had more time..."
"If haste is as urgent a need as you seemed to suggest earlier, perhaps one of your party can choose to forgo their mount and walk. Or else...we captured a fine quality chain shirt today. There's no reason to ask Ibir to go unarmored; you could simply ask him to wear somewhat lighter armor for the next three days, to enable us to reach this Obelisk two days earlier. But you better than we can say if the risks of taking our time are worth it." She looks at Ibir and then quickly back at Pinkerton, clearly not as comfortable with the bodyguard as she is with Pinkerton himself.
Thorgrim grunts out a nonchalant hmm at Unafe's words. Then, turning to the rest and addressing them where they sit, he adds "" Thorgrim extends a large finger from an even larger hand to point at Aluriel. ""
Eyes narrow as Thorgrim's gaze settles on Ibir's form. ""
At Thorgrim’s suggestion, Aluriel nods - she knows how to ride, and it will solve both of the group’s issues. Ibir, however, glares at Thorgrim, only half-understanding what the big Ulfen says much of the time, but understanding enough to get his point across. As Ibir is about to make some sort of comeback in his defense, Pinkerton speaks first.
”He’s right, you know. As is Unafe. Time is of the essence - though we, admittedly, should not be without caution, either. Therefore, Ibir, you will take my camel, and I will walk. I think I would very much enjoy the exercise, anyways.”
At this, Ibir thinks a moment, but then shakes his head. ”No - I will not take your mount - should you need to escape, then you -”
As soon as Ibir starts off, a low growl of annoyance can be heard coming from Pinkerton, who appears to be fed up with his bodyguard’s uncooperative attitude. Before Ibir can finish, Pinkerton interrupts him, waving his hand in front of bodyguard with the relatively obvious flare of spellcasting. ”Ibir, I suggest that you take their advice to heart and keep in mind our goal.”
Looking dazed for a split second, Ibir shakes his head, and grunts. ”Fine. Fine. I’ll take your mount.”
Smiling, even as he can see that Nexander knows what he did, ”Good, good! Well then, its probably time we all head to bed - today’s been a busy day, and tomorrow we’ve got a long journey ahead of us!”
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Heh...you an old man's b!!*$, Nexander thinks, while watching Ibir succumb to Pinkerton's spell. He then nods at the expedition leader's suggestion and makes his way to bed. In the morning, he's up early and prepares Aga for both him and Unafe to ride. He eats a very light breakfast and is then ready to go.
The orange eyes guide nodded his head and smiled broadly once the issue of travel was eventually resolved. He did not fault Ibir or Auriel for not wanting to shed their armor despite his own thoughts that such heavy gear was ill-suited to the environment in which they traveled. Had Pinkerton urged at the onset of the expedition the need for speed perhaps he should have supplied mounts for all involved. It was poorly thought out.
"Then it is settled. Sasbrek and I will take an early nights rest and begin to scout ahead before the sun has shed its first light. We will travel fast and without the full weight of the sun upon us." Ardeshir spoke and then made his way over to Pinkerton. Crooking his finger he lowered his voice and spoke somewhat more privately to his employer.
"Is there anything more I should know before we begin? If there are any pitfalls or dangers we should be on the look out for? Any hidden allies or signs? Speak now or they may be missed." He finished the whispered words and added somewhat more loudly. "It may make sense for my pack camel to remain with the larger group. Keep Mostighim safe."
Pinkerton shakes his head, ”Of obstacles, pitfalls, or hidden dangers, I don’t know. There is.. one ally, however - but he isn’t likely to catch up with us anytime soon. An associate and friend of mine from the Pathfinder Society. He would have been with us from the get-go, but he was unexpectedly recalled to Sothis by his superior. He knows our destination at the obelisk and our planned arrival time - In the unlikely chance that his business in Sothis is done quickly, he would try to meet us there by the 2nd of next month. Otherwise, I was planning on leaving him an encoded message so that he may follow us. He’s an expert tracker and explorer, so I have no doubt he’ll eventually catch up with us, but we cannot rely on his assistance for now.”
Thankfully, the rest of the day goes smoothly - after a tiresome battle and an intriguing journal, the members of the expedition are all ready to retire for the day - each need to get their rest for the coming days, as now that many of the dangers are illuminated, their journey is only going to get tougher.
--------------------
<< | | | >>
The morning starts off as any other, with the group preparing for their journey by eating a light breakfast, packing up the tents and other gear onto the animals, and, for those spellcasters in the group, preparing their spells. With Ardeshir and Sasbrek preparing to scout ahead of the group, they pack light and are ready to go a little bit before the rest of the group - Pinkerton sees them off, telling them to be careful and wishing them luck.
A little later, with all of the group ready to roll out, Pinkerton takes a minute to speak with Rhasadal concerning Gi’chak’s ride. Though initially reluctant to allow Gi’chak to ride on Leafroot, she agrees after a short minute of silence, her slow mind taking its time deciding her answer. With that issue solved easily enough, the group finally gets underway as Gi’chak eagerly climbs up into Leafroot’s branches. Despite the arid environment that the group finds itself in, the goblinoid is immediately reminded of home up on the treant sapling - and his journey goes much smoother than before.
<< | | | >>
A few hours later and the group finally gets to the border of the Pillars of the Sun and the Parched Dunes - the difference between the two regions are relatively noticeable, where the rocky terrain immediately begins to fade away to nothing but sand, sand, and more sand. It is here that Pinkerton calls for the group to stop when Osari calls for his attention.
”I need to poo! Can we stop for a minute?”
Having been walking along next to Ibir and his camel, Pinkerton frowns at his adoptive son’s delay. ”You should have gone before we left, you know we’re in a hurry!”
”I know, but I didn’t need to go then. It came up after we left. I’ve been holding it, but I can’t anymore. Plus, from here on out there won’t be any place where I can take care of it without anyone seeing me.” Osari, for his part, looks to be squirming in discomfort as he sits behind Rhasadal on her camel.
Sighing, Pinkerton shakes his head exasperatedly, ”Alright, but be quick about it. Everyone else, feel free to take a minute or two to stretch your legs or relieve yourselves as well.”
Nodding in thanks, Osari quickly slides off of the camel to go relieve himself. ”Rhas, mind coming with me, ‘case something jumps out at me?” He barely waits a second before her agreement before running off into the rocks, joined momentarily by the Ghoran, who leaves Leafroot back with the group.
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Nexander gets down off of Aja and begins a yogic stretching routine taught to him by his parents when he was a child. The routine takes several minutes to complete. Once he's finished he makes sure to urinate and then drink plenty of water.
"Your ass sore from riding yet 'Nafe?" he asks his saddle mate with a grin.
Taking the opportunity to check on his horses and Aluriel, Thorgrim lends an ear to the secretive pair beyond the bulk of their entourage. His flat mouthline crests into a frown, though the expression is masked by the thick cords and braids of flaxen hair that dangle from his face. A thunderous ire rises in the northman. A fitting analogy, given circumstances, but it was the final straw upon the camel: one secret too many.
"" The irritation the giant feels is plain to any who observe. ""
The hand cuts off Pinkerton's reply before it can even begin. "Certain things, between a man and a woman, should remain private my friend." The matter of fact stare and deadpan delivery leave no doubt of what The Hand believes is going on behind those rocks.
Unafe smiles at Xander's comment. "I think I can manage a bit more yet today." After a pause she adds, "In truth, I'm excited about this, even as it frightens me. Do you ever..."
She looks down, pausing again and shaking her head. "Do you have a feeling? Like this is leading toward something big? Important?...I used to always trust that sort of feeling. Now? I don't know what to trust. Maybe I just want to believe I'm really still heading toward a destiny chosen for me by my ancestors."
...
When Thorgrim bellows about traitors, she turns to him. "I don't understand, brother-warrior. What are you talking about?"
Thorgrim points off in the direction of Rhasadal and Osari and shakes his head once at The Hand.
""
Nexander watches the growing conflict with interest, but makes no move to intervene. He'd had more than enough with secrecy as well.