Ick was a little shorter than some of the elves she was as long as Crow was tall, she didn't like the idea of being in a confined space in enemy territory, "Crow and I will wait for your return."
A pair of elves lead the shorter three party members through the kank pen and up onto the eastern walls of the decaying fortress, entering the southeasternmost tower. The interior of the tower is barely-furnished, with what few pieces of ancient wooden furniture remaining having been scavenged to serve as a makeshift barricade cutting the room in half. The five elven sentries on duty step aside when the party is led through, directing them to a stairway descending into the darkness below.
The basement of the tower is decidedly cooler than the outdoors, with the only light source being a lit torch above a bone grate set in the floor.
Within the grate is a thri-kreen, his burnished beige carapace having several cracks and nicks running along it. His black eyes snap upwards upon hearing the group approach and his jaws start to *click* together.
"Here's the kreen." One of the elves points at the grate.
The kreen chitters. "Well?" He says, his voice scratchy. "Am I finally going in your stew pot or not?"
"No. The chief has declared you are free to go." One of the elves replies, tentatively moving forward to open the grate.
He works on the grate's bone lock--and with a *SNAP*, it comes undone.
He doesn't get a chance to move away before the grate comes flying off. The kreen leaps upward, knocking the elf down with a loud HISS!
His eyes turn on Cale, Laurelin and Khar. "I am T'Klick'Chik. You are not the chief. Who are you?"
Sounding a bit tired, Laurelin says, "We are but travelers who came upon your oasis and found it poisoned. We have come to take you home."
T'Klick'Chik's demeanour seems to improve somewhat. "Hmm. All well and good then. Let us be gone from this miserable place."
The other elf, after looking at his unconscious buddy beneath the ruined grate, swallows and leads the group out back the way they came with the druid in tow. The guards give the party a wide berth as they move, their eyes not leaving the kreen druid.
Once the rest of the party has been reunited, Jengi approaches the party one last time. "You have done the Jura-Dai a great service, one that we shall not forget. Know that as long as I lead, if you call for aid, the Jura-Dai will come."
Laurelin says, "Thank you - I trust that this will settle matters between the Jura-Dai and Kled for now. Urik is the real enemy."
"I, for one, cannot wait to have some pure, clean water."
Cale'Anon bows respectfully in response to their acknowledgment of debt [b]"I acknowledge your words and thank you in turn. It is my hope that this relationship continues for some time"
When Ick finally meets T'Klick'Chik she starts clicking and vibranting with her mandibles.
Crow shrugged slightly, then saw Cale bow and did the same, somewhat stiffly.
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T'Klick'Chik's demeanour brightens considerably when he sees another kreen in the elven stronghold, and practically leaps in front of her.
The kreen druid replies with his own series of clicks and mandible grinding.
"It used to belong to Tarr-Mak. He won't need it anymore." She whispers in your ear before pressing something into your hand... it's a curved rib that looks like it was shorn off of some manner of humanoid. Several strange symbols are carved into its length.
The party turns their backs on the bones of the once-proud fortress, striking out for the poisoned oasis without any further delays. The trek back through the canyon is accompanied by only the lazily-swirling air and occasional bursts of airborne grit. Though the heat hammers down on the group as they move, they proceed with an indefatigable purpose--and the promise of truly fresh water.
The party reaches Kled's oasis by the time the new day dawns. As the first rays of sunlight begin to sear their way across the barren wastes, T'Klick'Chik hops upon a rock next to the oasis and surveys his guarded land. The mantis-warrior grinds his mandibles in frustration.
"Long-limbed Jura-Dai have no respect for the Sacred Duty. Water is to be shared by all--hunts have been declared for far less." The druid raises his claws to the sun, letting out a rhythmic series of clicks... and in response, motes of pure blue energy begin to gather around him.
Moving his arms like a conductor, T'Klick'Chik guides the blue motes out across the placid waters of the poisoned oasis, coaxing them forth like he would a butterfly to land on his finger. With every mote of magic that dips into the water, the pool becomes clearer and clearer, turning from a brackish brown to a triumphant reflection of the ever-brightening sky above.
With a final *CLAP* of his hands, the druid's magic radiates out around the oasis, causing small blades of grass to erupt from the once-barren earth. "It is DONE." He declares, his fingers coming to rest at his side.