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Awenasa charges out of her tunnel with the speed of a champion sprinter, covering the broken ground at a speed that dazzled the eye. She leapt rubble, deftly skidded across bare rock and dodged pillars of stone. Around her she heard shouting and cursing but, for now, she ignored it, making sure she kept her footing on the tricky terrain. Unless someone was about to tackle her, she could deal with them later.

In short order she arrives at the bell and, without pausing, slams into it with a shoulder. It is a heavy awkward construction, heavy metal set into a timber frame, but the Shoanti's momentum is enough. With a creak and a crack the bell tips and falls over onto the rocky floor, giving a muffled clang of metal.

Awenasa takes a breath and looks around. She is in the middle of the large cavern now, the light dim and dancing. Shadows flicker everywhere. The children seem to have fled, and she seems alone with the two larger men, who seem completely bewildered by her sudden attack. They recover quickly though, one of them saying, "Whoever you are, you picked the wrong place to rob. Get her!"

The two close in on her, but Awenasa's attention is distracted by movement. Glancing at a broader tunnel leading onward, she spots two more men running out of it, armed with the clubs. More worryingly, some animal is between them, straining at a heavy chain.

A dog....sort of. It was a dog shape, but the skin was green and shiny, reminding Awenasa of the seals she had seen at Sea. Worse though, it was dotted with oozing pustules and warts, weeping green slime. A huge set of gaping jaws hung down, riddled with misshapen teeth, slicks with yet more slime. Despite it though, the beast did not seem sick, and indeed was straining to come at her. A green light flickered in the eyes.

You are in the center of the a dimly lit underground cavern. Four men around you, at a distance, and the weird dog thing. Plans? None of the men look too dangerous but they do outnumber you.

Awenasa lets her hate flow through her and she hits the bow-legged man on the head with a blow more associated with hammers then fists. She actually feels the skull bend under her blow a bit, denting it. For a moment she worries about killing the man but shrugs it off. Probably not great loss either way.

She is more concerned about catching his falling body to prevent more noise. The Shoanti manages, although the man is heavier then he looks, and reeks like stale wine and old leather. Awenasa is gagging by the time she manhandles him into a bit of a corner, all silently.

Still, the man's constant stream of curses defeat her since almost at once, his colleagues notice the silence.

"Oi, Frek? What's going on? The kid to much to handle?" A voice shouts around the corner, a mixture of contempt and concern. 'Or is he wedged in some small place? Should I get the hound?"

Awenasa ducks behind the corner and scrapes her boots against the rough stone floor, a calculated mis-step. She waits......and waits. Nothing happens. Finally, she (against her instincts) peeks around the corner again and sees...nothing has changed. The guards still lounge about, keeping an eye on the toiling children. Clearly she overestimated her foes.

Probably for the best but she would need to do more. This time , after withdrawing from sight, she stamps her foot against the stones several times. To her, it is a obvious as a red flag in the blue sky. But again, no response. Eventually Awenasa is forced to grab a loose hunk of rock and literally bang it against the side of the tunnel.

At the cracking smash, she finally hears a response.

"Who is over there? Pekir? No one is working the south tunnels today, how did you get over there. Damn you, kid, you trying to escape? Get out here or you'll taste the whip." After a moment, where Awenasa waits and tenses herself, the voice says, "All right, you little whelp. You'll regret it!" Awenasa hears the heavy tramp of feet on stone.

A bow-legged man rounds the corner, holding a lantern in one hand, and a whip in the other. His eyes widen in shock when he spots Awenasa, mouth slack jawed. But Awenasa has the upper hand and gets the first move.

Use it wisely!

Sneaking in tunnels is hard work. What Awenasa wouldn't give to be outside, on a mountain night. There she would be confident in her ability to pass noiselessly. She could sneak right up on a pack of lowlanders and steal the coins from their pockets. But underground was a different matter.

She inched forward, more by feel then by any other sense. Her fingertips brushed the rocky walls, noticing there were far more gaps here, irregular portals, the edges rough as if animals had chewed them. The noise ahead grew stronger and Awenasa went even slower. She was preparing herself to crawl forward (how many times had she snuck up on a deer, sliding on her belly?) when the point quickly became entirely moot.

There was a corner and Awenasa carefully peeked out. What she saw startled her.

A large chamber opened before her, four or five men tall and wide as a town square. Pillars of rock stood among it, holding up the roof. Unlike the tunnels so far, everything had a rough, raw look to it, clearly hewed out by pick and shovel not the magical machines that fascinated Euler over.

Lamps were hung here and there, glass sided squares that sent steady streams of light. Not wood, some other fuel that Awenasa did not know. Among the shadows cast, Awenasa saw people. Three taller ones that were clearly adults, and a dozen smaller ones. Children.

All the children were at work. Carrying heavy basket full of rock, wielding picks and hammers, others picking through piles of rubble. She couldn't see many details at this, but they had the slow, steady work that spoke of misery and repetition. It reminded her of the slave workers she had seen in a few towns during her time with the Wanderers.

But even those lowlanders never worked children.

Awenasa creeps forward, straining her ears for noise. Sounds can play tricks on someone in these tunnels, she has already discovered. Some quiet things travel far in the silence, while others are strangely muffled. So the Shoanti moves slow, pausing often to listen. She can't help but think of a deer in a meadow, constantly freezing and looking around, ears twitching. A deer's ears would be useful.

The sounds slowly get louder. The sound of people at work. Picks digging stone, shovels scraping, the occasional rumble of gravel sliding. There are words mixed in too, but too faint to make out clearly. A squeak of a wheel needing grease, the creak of old ropes streached taut.

Awenasa finally puts out her own torch at a corner and waits for her eyes to adjust. Slowly, ahead, she can make out the dull orange of lights. Less active then torchlight. Probably some sort of covered lamp. She is still too far to actually see anything, which a tunnel makes tricky. If she can see them, whoever is beyond very well might be able to see her.

Bravery takes many forms. In ballads, of course, it is usually charging ahead in battle or tackling a fierce monster bare-handed. Surging ahead of the tribe, caught up in a blood fury.

But Awenasa knows it takes a very different type of bravery to accept being left behind, in the dark and silence. Would she be able to do so? To let a friend go ahead with the task at hand, to put herself in such a spot? Awenasa did not know, but she did know Perey was a very brave man.

Perey takes the blade, only a trace of a tremor in his grip. The blade gleams in both his magical dazzling light and the orange flame Awenasa soon kindles, the smell of smoke overpowering the dusty must of the tunnel. It makes her think of long nights around campfires, a bit of comfort. Still, she now cannot linger.

Perey gives her a Shoanti salute and Awenasa heads off into the long dark.

Alone.

It is like trekking into a dream, a world without shape or sounds. Formless black on all sides, reaching out into infinity and yet bounded by stone walls. It is the worse of both worlds, claustrophobia and being exposed. Lack of sensation and over heightened senses. Still she ventures onward, driven both by duty and by a desire to help these children. Even if she has never met them, they tug at her heart. The Shoanti respect children above all else, seeing in them the future of the world. What sort of society would mistreat their children?

She marches onto down the tunnel. Helping her is that it rarely branches and most side tunnels are smaller or blocked of old rockfalls, choked shut. Her way seems clear.

Finally, after what seems like miles to her tired feet she find something new. So far the walls had generally been smooth, cut by some magic or skill unknown to the Shoanti explorer. Now they marred with rough gouges and divets, clearly caused by pick axes or hammers. Rubble littered the ground, gravel left behind. Old iron rings are hammered into the walls, surrounded by soot stains.

Old torch holders, surely. People must come this way.

And ahead, when she strains her ears, she hears...sounds. Muffled and distant, but the sound of metal clanking and rocks rumbling. Faint, but real.

"Go back?" Something flashes in the small man's eyes at this, a potent mixture of fear and determination. "No, you can't go back because of me." He shakes his head, "I'll be fine." he tries to stand, which he only attempts for a few moments before sinking back down to the rocky floor with a pained wheeze.

"Maybe not fine..." He says but then adds fiercely, "I won't hold you back." he glances around the empty black tunnel, before settling on something. "Go on without me. I'll wait here for you." Seeing Awenasa's face he urged, "I can heal up while I wait, and I can make light. I doubt anything will come back this way after we had that big fight."

"This is your best chance to save those kids. I don't think Euler is a bad person but I think this Ely person has a great deal of power, and hears things. If Euler warns him...the whole plan might fall apart. He might even have the sheriff arrest you!"

Perey is quiet for a long time, enough time for Awenasa's fear to rise. She crouches in the dark silent tunnel, hands grasping her friends shoulder tightly. Surely this isn't how his story ended, in a dirty tunnel on another planet? With no one to sing his name?

Perey coughs and Awenasa lets out a silent, thankful sigh to the spirits.

The pale man's eyes open slightly, then he blinks. "What was that....what happened?" His voice is weak but clear, quite audible in the echoing tunnel. He shudders as memories apparently start to come back to him. "There were teeth...or claws.." Perey looks down at himself and winces. Awenasa can't help but agree, it wasn't a pretty sight.

His neck, shoulders and upper torso are covered in dozens of cuts and slashes. While each one is not very serious all joined together, it creates quite a network of torn skin, ruptured muscle and blood. Quite a bit of blood. It is like Perey just picked a fight with a very large and very angry cat.

"It is gone?" Perey croaks, "Did you kill it...whatever it was? It wasn't Euler, was it?" He tries to look around but jerks to a stop with pain. "Is he still here?"

Awenasa's challenge rings out into the endless void of the underworld, echoing off the smooth, carved walls. Even if the hovering beast in front of her can't speak Common, her intent is clear to any predator, sapient or not. If it wanted Perey, it would have to go through Awenasa and she would not die easily. No Shoanti did.

For a long moment the rippling creature eyed her, mouth agape. Awenas braced herself for anything. A sudden leap, an engulfing grasp, a blast of magic. Who knew what this thing could do?

And then, without fanfare, it flipped over and vanished into the endless gloom of the tunnel, without a sound.

It was gone.

Awenasa stared down the rippling, injured beast with a glare as hard as steel. It was the look of someone who would not back down and would, even if conquered, go down fighting. To an animal it described a meal not worth fighting for and for something smarter...an enemy better left alone.

Clearly the beast had no expected this, and it hovers silently, confused. Behind her, the second creature pauses, flicking in the air like a flag on a gusty day. Silence fills the space, a pregnant pause only dimly lit by Perey's fallen stone. Awenasa wonders how long that spell will last, before utter night returns. She might not be able to defeat these two in the light. In the dark, she would be entirely lost.

And yet...nothing happens. A question starts to rise in Awenasa's mind. Why not? She could understand the one she attacked being hesitant, no creature like pain. But why was the second not falling on her from behind? Or at least moving closer? Or casting that horrific moan? Maybe they did hunt together in a pack? Was it a rival, perhaps?

Or was it even real?

Awenasa looked harder at the second, suspiciously cautious creature. As if fog parting, her vision cleared around it. It was a fake! It was a magical mirage, conjured up by spell and wizardry. The Shoanti still only faced one enemy.

To be afraid is not forbidden to Shoanti. Indeed, it was dangerous to be so reckless as to not feel fear when facing an enemy spear, or a savage duststorm. No, what is forbidden is to slink away or to desert one's quah.

So Awenasa doesn't. She leaps toward the strange creature and smashes her hardened fist into what passes for a face. She feels bones crack under her knuckles as she lands a solid hit, one strong enough to fell an ox.

But this is not an ox.

The beast recoils from the hit, but does not retreat, or even vanish into the inky universe of utter darkness that surrounds them. Instead it hovers on the edge of sight for a moment, as if sizing up Awenasa. Was she worth the fight? Was the silent, still form of Perey worth fighting her over? Awenasa has time to wonder...was this a beast hunting for food or was it a thinking being that killed for other reasons?

?: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 9

Then, she spots something at the edge of her field of view. Movement, coming up the tunnel behind her. Glancing quickly the Shoanti spots a sight that chills her blood. Another shadowy beast, identical to the one in front of her, is coming from behind! Still twenty feet away, is barely detectable at the edge of Perey's Light Spell, but it is gliding quickly toward her.

The one she punched is still, fluttering in mid-air, like a horrid nightmare of a child's broken kite.

In the blind darkness Awenasa has no idea what she is doing but one thing is clear. She needed to get Perey out of...whatever he was stuck in. Not wanting to risk the knife, she seizes the rough, burlap-like skin with a firm grip. Knotted knuckles dig into the strange beast, the flesh warm against her own skin. Underneath she can feel Perey squirming feebly, like a child hiding under a blanket.

Still gripping tightly, Awenasa takes a breath of the dry tunnel air and jerks it apart as hard as she can. The skin is tough and stringy, and for a horrible moment the Shoanti thinks it'll defeat her, but then it suddenly gives way, like rotten cloth. The rip isn't large but it is enough. There is a sharp gurgling hiss of surprise and pain, and the thing writhes away from her grip, slipping into the endless darkness.

But darkness no longer, as the stone Perey enchanted falls free, still burning brightly. It lights the tunnel, revealing Perey lying cold and still on the stony floor of the cavern. His neck and face are covered with bite marks, torn skin bleeding freely. Awenasa doesn't have time to see more, because at the edge of the light she sees movement.

A shifting shadow, rippling in mid-air, like a cloak given life. Billowing in an unfelt breeze, Awenasa can just make out a dark greedy mouth, studded with white teeth. Without warning, it lets out a horrifying moan, a deep bass that echoes through the tunnel. Awenasa feels her hair stand on end and feels even her iron hard will wavering.

Awenasa Will Save: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (3) + 5 = 8

You are un-nerved, -2 to all rolls. You have a feeling if they effect last much longer, it will have stronger side effects

Awenasa's words go unanswered, seeming to fall into the endless black void around her. Silence reigns except for the muffled sounds of something rolling around on the floor.

I will say to feel it is free, if time consuming, but to grab it, I'll use a roll. For future reference, feel free to roll the miss chance yourself, to keep it moving

Awenasa Grab: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (4) + 12 = 16

Awenasa listens carefully, and then with the speed of a snake, reaches out and snatches...whatever it is.

It is hard to grip, and feels strange under her. It is like she is holding....Her confusion suddenly gives way to realization as she tries to pull the mystery object toward her. It is a living bag of somekind...with Perey inside!

It is flesh, thin but strong, streached out over the bard, cutting him (and his light) off. Instead the bard is still kicking and trying to break free but his struggles seem to be fading as the ...thing strangles him. Awenasa quickly runs her hand over it, but does not find a head or anything other then smooth, bat-like skin.

Pausing to listen Awenasa hears scuffling at her feet, of something rubbing against the rocky floor. And..is that muffled shouting? Not muffled from distance, but as if someone had a cloth gag struck in their throat. A choked, quiet sound. She smells nothing, except dust being kicked up....wait, what was that? A faint animal smell, of something alive and warm blooded. Not quite human...

Awenasa squats down and puts out her hand, feeling like a blind woman trying to find a missing coin. Her hand touches something warm and...alive. It has a strange texture, like a canvas bag. It squirms under her hand, a writhing mass. Strange, uneven jerks. It rolls and spasms away from her, moving a few inches away into the darkness, as if recoiling from her touch. It seems somewhat large, almost...Perey sized?

"Not these tunnels." Euler stammers, "But I have been done a few old caves and stuff. Just looking for traces of fossils. But everyone knows monster live in places like this. They dont' were you re from?"

The prospector isn't wrong. Awenasa knew the deep places of her homeland were home to some unpleasant creatures, although few bothered humans. The Shoanti did not spend much time underground except for a few holy sites and that was usually done as a group, the entire quah. Still, Awenasa knew the best way to avoid trouble was to be quiet and keep moving.

Moving down the tunnel is an disquieting experience however though, even for her prosaic outlook. It is not physically difficult, certainly not after the grueling time in the sun above. The tunnel is smooth and flat, with barely even a crack in the floor. Cool and dry, the air is merely dusty but actually a pleasant temperature. No..it is the silence. The pure, perfect silence that presses on her. As if someone the weight of the tons of rock overhead are being loaded on her shoulders, crushing her. Every footfall, every breath, even her heartbeat seems a transgression in the endless quiet.

Awenasa takes the lead, Perey in the middle with his shining rock, and Euler reluctantly taking up the rear. The Shoanti isn't happy about the arrangement but she has no choice. Perey needs to be hear her to shed light, and Awenasa has to go first.

Still things seem to be going well.

Until they aren't.

?: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (18) + 10 = 28
?: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (7) + 5 = 12

Suddenly without warning Perey's light goes out. Utter, total blackness engulfs the tunnel, as final as if Awenasa had gone blind. In the confusions he hears a soft thumping sound and muffled shouts, barely audible. Then, loud pounding footsteps running off into the dark. After a second, something soft hits her foot, as if someone had kicked a bag toward her.

Awenasa is seemingly alone, in the pitch black

In areas of darkness, creatures without darkvision are effectively blinded. In addition to the obvious effects, a blinded creature has a 50% miss chance in combat (all opponents have total concealment), loses any Dexterity bonus to AC, takes a –2 penalty to AC, and takes a –4 penalty on Perception checks that rely on sight and most Strength– and Dexterity-based skill checks. Areas of darkness include an unlit dungeon chamber, most caverns, and outside on a cloudy, moonless night.

"I'm not really sure." Euler says, not looking away from the heaping pile. "It is a machine...." Sensing the word might not mean much to Awenasa the prospector adds, " A tool that can work. They use similar, but much smaller ones in Maro, or so I heard. If you could somehow get this going, it would be worth a fortune in the Hivemarket..." The man sighed and shrugged, "Just makes you wonder how they built all this. Magic, maybe."

"But how would they know.." Perey says plaintively, but keeps his hands to himself.

It doesn't take much to remove the blockage from the door. Clearly the seal is more metaphysical then real. Awenasa hopes her own spirits can prevent whatever death curse might be headed her way. Surely the local nomadic spirits would understand? She is on a good mission, not one to desecrate.

The tunnel runs off into utter blackness, walls and floor smooth and sharp, as if they were just recently cut. The air is cool and dry, without much scent. Perey carries his light and asks the obvious questions, "How far do we go today?"

Euler hangs back, wary again after his wonder at the chamber behind. "There are monster in there. You plan to fight all of them?"

"Maybe they wanted to get out of the sun." Euler says mildly, walking around and investigating things. Unlike Awenasa he seems more interested in the old piles of tangled steel and glass heaped in the corner, poking and prodding the ancient machines. "I wonder how they worked...."

Perey seems nervous but calms down after he finds a set of ceremonial drums in a corner. The presence of music seems to indicate civilization to the smaller man and he surveys the instruments minutely (but does not touch them).

"Different kind then back home," he declares, "But not very different. I could play them, I think. Although I'm not sure what kind of hide they used....I wonder how they sound." He might have patted it except Awenasa gives him a withering look.

She might be willing to break laws and rules of the villagers but clearly this is a place of the spirits and a wise person did not tamper with such beings.

Using the tunnel out as a guide, Awenasa quickly figures out which door would lead back tot he village. Assuming it is straight and flat (which she doubts) it would be about a two hour trip back to town, and the canal.

"Who knows?" Euler says, obviously not impressed with the previous visitors. "The desert people are strange." Seeing Awenasa's disapproving face in the dark, the prospector quickly adds, "Not bad. I know better then that just....they are a strange people."

Which was probably fair enough, the Shoanti probably seemed a strange people to outsiders too. Even if, of course, they weren't.

They kept descending the steep shaft down into the earth. Awenasa's rope runs out, but luckily the slope has shallowed somewhat and the ground less broken. It is possible to walk now, if one goes carefully. They descend further, and Awenasa guesses they are a few hundred feet under the sunbaked soil above. It is cool and dark, with no sound save their own. Awenasa is actually surprised they haven't seen any bats but realizes perhaps this planet doesn't have them?

Finally, the shaft levels out entirely and opens up into a wide space. For a moment it is just a featureless black void, swallowing up Awenasa's senses. It is like standing on the edge of a black dream, endless and strange. And then Perey lifts up the rock and light suddenly fills the space.

What strikes Awenasa first is the size. It is a big space, easily big enough to hold a hundred men and women (or more). The vaulted ceiling, sheer walls and smooth floor were all made out of stone, somehow perfectly cut from the rock around them. In one corner, a heaping pile of rusting old machinery stood, darkly surveying the room like a fallen giant, casting hulking shadows in Perey's shifting light.

The rest of the room though....Awenasa caught her breath. In an instant she knew what this was. A holy gathering place for the desert nomad people. The walls were covered with painted murals, daubed on by hand or a crude brush. Rubble had been cleared away from the floor to make room for fire pits or dance circles. Wooden totems stood about, some nearly as tall as she was. What were clearly shrines of some time dotted the space, many strung with colorful bits of cloth.

There were many entrances leading out of the room, but all were barred with simple wooden barriers, covered with bones or skulls. Clearly the nomads did not venture past this room.

The day was hot, as all days in this tropical city seemed to be. Behind her the sea and sky melded together into an endless vista of blue, dotted with billowing white clouds. This far out her view was of the wide open ocean, not of the enclosed harbor. She saw no ships, no lands, not even a sandbar ahead of her. Just slow rolling swells, that rose and fell like the breath of a unfathomably large giant. The sound of crashing waves fills her ears, and the air is full of the scent of salt, and water.

The smell of promise. Unbidden a vision of herself, standing at the prow of a ship, fills her mind. The wind filling the sails, blowing her hair, racing toward an unseen horizon. Free and clear, with no ties to bind her.

A fantasy....or perhaps, dare she hope, a vision of the future?

She sits by the wall...and waits. Even in the shade it is too hot to be comfortable of course, and sweat rolls down the back of her neck and down her face into her eyes. Happily the sea breeze keeps off the biting insects. Still, she doesn't want to wait all day.

Then, from the entrance of the grotto, the Squire seems movement. Not the rangy figure of Quye, but instead the fuzzy squat ape. Powerfully built, with arms nearly as long as Sorala body, the animal crouches near the entrance, not stepping out into the sunlight.

"The Captain is impressed with your patience." It says without preamble, voice a strange screeching rasp. "He will meet you at the Harborhorn mole at nightfall. No tricks."

A pause and then, animal face unreadable, "I offer this for free. Captain would like nothing more then to skin you and feed it to the gulls." and with that, they duck back inside.

Shamruldieh nods, "Do you want me to fetch one of the gnome sup here or do you wish to descend into their own little kingdom?" The sergeant offered a small smile, "They have, sort of taken over the storage vaults below, for the last few centuries. Unofficial, of course but we haven't gotten around to dislodging them yet."

Micovus nods at the mention of war machines, "I think there is some of that in storage, or at least the parts. Keeping it on the walls seemed foolish since it would rot away in only a few centuries. Last longer under cover, uh, sir."

Johan's little demon story passes without comment (save perhaps a few raised eyebrows).

Ok, I can move us along, what's next. The gnomes? or the general assembly of elves?

The tunnel is quiet and dark, shadows dancing on the walls as Perey comes to a halt behind her. The scent of dust fills her nose as well as....smoke? Old smoke, very faint. Crouching beside the footprints, Awenasa leans over them, careful not to block her limited light. It is hard to tell time underground, without wind or rain to disturb things. They freeze in place and time. Awenasa knew caves that had paintings on the walls older then her Quah's ancient stories, that seemed as bright as they had when first painted.

Still, she guessed this shoe and the marks were old but not ancient. A few years perhaps? Awenasa also saw a slight scrape in the wall, where someone slipped and grabbed at the stone. The shoe, and the marks, made her think not of villagers (or prospectors) but of the desert nomads she had met. Yes, it would be their robes that left these marks, and the worm-riders shoes had seemed like the one lying her.

Not today, but recently, nomads had been here.

Euler looks at Awenasa and then back at the dark cave. "But...but there are monsters down there. I don't care what you are trying to steal but it's crazy to go down into the caves. Everyone knows that! We'll get trapped or lost or..." He trails off at seeing Awenasa's implacable face. Clearly there is no way out. The man lets out a sigh and says, "You are going to get us all killed."

Maybe.

Awenasa secures the rope and debates briefly about the order. She would like to go first but having Euler at the back seems unwise. The prospector might get cold feet and beat a hasty retreat back up. Perey volunteers to bring up the rear and that (combined with Awenasa's long reach) seems enough.

Grabbing the rough rope with a tight grip, Awenasa begins to half-lower, half walk down into the cave. Instantly her world becomes cool and dark, a soft breeze whispering past her. The cave's mouth is perfectly square, as if a artisan had punched it out with a hammer and die. Just inside the sharp edge she finds the floor is a steep incline of stone, crumbling and jagged. Peering down in the gloom the Shoanti guesses the floor was once smooth (if steep) but has become broken through long years of neglect. This was more like a path, or even a road, once. Long...long ago.

After only a short distance the cavern becomes dark as night, the entrance behind them a glowing door of whiteness. The air inside is dry and scented only of dust and rocks. No moisture or mold that Awenasa can tell. As the endless night engulfs them, she hears Perey mutters something.

Suddenly, in his hand, a rock is glowing bright as a torch, sending out unwavering rays of golden light. "This should help." Now lit, they continue down the steep incline, Awenasa leading the way, trying to avoid sending the rough stones into an avalanche.

Down, down, down. The incline seems endless, the sloping roof always just above her head, the walls just out of reach. Awenasa sees no art, no carvings into the rocks. Just that same perfectly formed tunnel, marred only by the rough and uneven floor. She is happy for the rope, without it she would have slipped long ago, sliding down into endless blackness.

They must have gone a few hundred yards when Awenasa sees something among the tumbled and crumbling stones. Something dark and soft...leaning over...an old shoe. Not only that, but a set of footprints alongside it, leading downward, quickly lost among the gravel.

Clearly they are not the first people to pass this way.

I think we can assume she can tie a rope

Euler first seems confused by her question but then glances up at the soaring turrets of rock rising hundreds of feet above them, black outlines against the milky white-blue sky. The sunlight beats hard on them, giving them a halo of shimmering waves that dance and distort. Making them almost seem alive.

The prospector shrugs, "These are the only set near town, but I hear there are others. Big , aren't they?"

Then the man blinks at Awenasa's other words. "You say 'we'. You don't mean me, right? I'm not going into that tunnel. Gods only know what is down there!" The man edges away from the hungry black mouth that vanishes into the depths of the soil.

For a few silent moments, Johan pondered the exquisite eleven model growing out of the table ahead of him. He stripped away the art and presentation, trying his best to see it only as a representation of the fort, to view it strategically. It was a lot to take in.

An outer moat, long drained of water, now just a marshy ditch full of weeds and plants. No trees thankfully, at least. An outer wall, with the eastern part is some disrepair. Not falling down, but obviously weaker then the rest. A few small round towers built into this outer defense, small and squat, tiled roofs. Empty space behind, with some workshops, storage buildings, a small mustering yard.

Behind that another curtain wall, slightly higher, in good shape. Only two towers here, taller then the wall they are built into it. The little greenhouse he is standing in is sheltering behind this wall. Behind that, the small keep.

Kress takes up the reply, the big man still rubbing his head slightly. "Provisions are not a concern. There are several good deep wells on the ground, and good cisterns. Combine that with a few magical purifiers, and we have enough for an army three times our size. Generally the same with food." He glances at Shamruldlieh who nods firmly.

"Might not be the freshest stuff, but there is enough salted meat, dried biscut and the makings for more to last a year or more. Besides, I think there is a Cauldron of Plenty or two down in the stores. Food is not a problem. Um, sir."

Well, one less thing to worry about. At least they wouldn't starve to death or die of thirst. Sure, demons might overrun he walls and dig their bowels out with hot pokers, but by the gods, those guts would be full of tasty elven gruel.

As far as other supplies....Micovus coughs, "As for the rest, I'm not sure. I don't think we have a full inventory of what is in the stores. There is a great deal stacked up down there, but no records. The old quartermaster was killed in the same attack that took our the Captain. It was all in his head, I'm told." He shook his head, "Common elf problem. Why write something down when you can just remember it? Paper degrades so quickly. The gnomes might have a list?"

Perey seems unsure if his current circumstances (trapped on another planet in t e middle of an inhospitable desert) counts as 'good shape' but doesn't say anything. Clearly it wouldn't be polite.

In any case Euler leads the way toward the caves.

It is tough going. The landscape is alternatingly hard and rock, or soft with sucking sand. Cautious of further watchers, Awenasa naturally leads them into gullies and away from ridgelines. The Shoanti doesn't notice anyone else out in the wastes, but such maneuvers are second nature to her. This may not be her home, but Awenasa knew how to move in wild places, to travel unseen and unheard. The best of her people could pass directly below a hunting eagle and not disturb it.

Still, all that training doesn't make scrambling over rocks in a dry heat any easier. The only comfort is that the arid wind sucks any sweat off of them, the instant it forms. Awenasa is glad she prepared thoroughly and has plenty of water for everyone, sharing it as required. Even with Euler. Refusing him moisture in these conditions would be just as deadly as an axe blow to the neck.

Finally, with much exertion, they reach the location Euler is leading them too (and was Awenasa's second personal choice). It is a set of vast towering pinnaces of stone, hundreds feet high, made of weathered red stone. Walking up to them Awenasa at first things they are artificial, made by the hand of man but dismissing it instantly. The huge piers of rock are far too large to be constructed. Must be some trick of the light.

The land around the towers of rock is hard stone, topped with hard packed earth. No plants or growth here (not that this place had much of it anyway, this desert was barren even by her standards). Oddly Awenasa sees no tumbled rocks or boulders scattered around, no sign anything had fallen from the huge piles of stone looming above. Strange, but they do cast gigantic shadows, even in early afternoon sun.

Euler leads them to the very base of one of the gargantuan formations, crossing the ground with familiarity. Rounding the corner, Awenasa can see it. A black square on the ground, where it falls away into nothing. It isn't the helpful cave mouth she had been expecting (or hoping). Instead it is a steep shaft leading downward, at any angle more suited for a ladder then walking. The outer edge is clean and clear as if it was hacked out of the ground yesterday, but Awenasa's sharp eyes can see the walls inside are crumbling and full of handholds, ledges and probably sliding stones.

It would take some climbing.

Euler seems unconvinced by Awenasa's words but the Shaonti doesn't care. This while thing is already taking longer then she wanted, and she didn't want to spend any more time sitting out in the dusty sun then she had to. if the prospector wanted to believe death was around the next rock..well, so be it. She wasn't his parent.

Perey shook his head so Awenasa made to move.

Euler though coughed, sighed heavily and said, "No caves up there. Just a few dry hollows made by the wind." The man seems to regret helping at all but goes on, "I figure wasting your time won't help anyone. Maybe if we hurry this along I won't need to die of thirst or something."

Standing up (carefully, so not to startle Awenasa), he gestures eastward, through the rock wall of the canyon. It is invisible but Awenasa second likely site lies in that direction.

"Over that way are some caves that connect to the network underground. I presume that is what you are looking for? I've never ventured down far myself, too dangerous. Rock falls, bad air, and monsters they say." he shrugs, "But you seem tough enough, I'm sure you can handle it."

"Barely touched me..." Euler says, still wincing. "I'd hate to see if you meant business." At her last words though the prospector gives Awenasa a grim smile, "I might not be very bright, but I'm no fool. What, I help you and then you turn me loose? I doubt it. if you were willing to knock me out and tie me up, clearly you aren't messing around. So, what is the actual deal? I help you and then you kill me, drop me in a canyon to never be found?"

Euler shakes his head, "Fine, do whatever you want, but I'm not helping you out of free will. Why should I? You hit me when my back was turned!"

The elves look at each other when Johan mentions the dwarves. For a moment the human's heart sinks, but Shamruldlieh's reply is straight forward enough. "Not bad. We don't deal much with them of course, you know dwarves. Happy to stick to their own business. Still, we do some trade with them, now and then, and they have some herdsmen who travel down this far during the spring season. As far as asking for help..." The female elf glances at the others.

Micovus nods, 'It's worth a try. Dwarves certainly have no love for demons and I think they have some strong military units in this part of the range. there was that nasty orc band a few years back. I think we have a few scouts who speak Dwarvish. Still, it'll take awhile to send someone, have the dwarves decide and for them to head back. Bit of a long term plan, I think. Still, every hope is something."

Ok, so what's next? Feel free to work a few things into a single post, of course. OOC or IC, whichever you prefer.

After tying the man down (a bit), Awenasa tries to wake up the unconscious prospector. The Shoanti starts by poking him a bit, and then gently shaking him. Nothing works and the man's head lolls rather unpleasantly.

"How hard did you hit him?" Perey asks, a bit of accusation in his voice. Hard enough apparently. 'Stop shaking him, let me give this a try."

The bard shakes his head and pulls out a small flute from his baggage. The metal catches in the sun, twinkling. After a moment of preparation, the little man starts to play a jaunty jig, spritely enough to set Awenasa's foot tapping. It is strange to hear music in the empty winding canyon but the sound is not loud, just very...insistent. A bouncing, lively tune that makes Awenasa think of late nights of dances and celebrations, of happy events long. A sudden wash of homesickness engulfs her, sharp and harsh.

And then Euler coughs and comes to. His first words are fitting enough.

"Ow!" he rubs his head, where an egg sized lump is busy forming. The man seems a bit confused but his eyes focus on Awenasa and he says, indignetly, "Oy, did you hit me? When my back was turned? That wasn't very fair, was it?" Still, he doesn't make to escape or fight.

At least for now.

Perey is not overly surprised that Awenasa has bested whoever was following them. Clearly the smaller man takes it on faith that his friend can handle any physical danger. If only she felt that level of confidence herself.

Still, he does cough slightly as Awenasa is trudging along, sweating in the dry, oppressive heat. Euler isn't an overly large man, but it still isn't easy to carry all that extra weight in such conditions.

'Uh, Awenasa?" Perey finally offers, "Can I ask something? You said he digs around for shells and stuff, right? So he knows the area? he probably knows where the caves are. Why don't we just ask him? And wouldn't he be easier to move around if he was awake?" Perey blushes slightly, "I mean, you already hit him. I doubt asking him to help is going to change his attitude much."

Like a hunting cat, Awenasa leaps toward the man. Even if he had heard her nearly silent feet on the sandy rocks, Euler wouldn't have time to react. Knotting up a fist she slams it right on the top of his head. Hard, but hopefully only hard enough to stun him and not crack his skull like an egg.

Fort Save: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 2 = 10

The prospector drops like a sack of potatoes, sending up a small cloud of dust. Awenasa feels a bit bad watching his head bounce off a rock but there isn't much for it. She couldn't just let him go and tell everyone about her plans. Even if he meant well (and she doubted that) he might slip up and reveal her activites out here.

Still, did she just want to leave him out here? Who knows what might happen upon him. Another person, a desert scavenger or just plain old heat stroke.

Why couldn't low landers ever just make things easy and do the right thing? It is also this job for this information, or just task for help. Circles and circles!

In Johan's mind eye he can see Hailey, leaning down over the exquisite model. What would her keen mind see, what would her eye notice? More importantly how would she begin?

The human had no idea. His own thoughts would have to suffice.

"Yes, sir." Shamruldlieh Says to his first orders, "Rumor is going out anyway. Most of the rangers and scouts are already here, but a few more will trickle in. Hopefully they can bring us some final reports, give us an idea what is out there."

Micovus added, "I wonder if this is an isolated attack. if this is part of a larger invasion...we may be on our own for awhile. As you indicated," The elf said, clearly not quite willing to call Johan Sergeant just yet, "this is a strategic point, but not the most vital. The country behind us is pretty rough, wooded country. Good defense terrain, without many villages or towns. Farther west, the land is more open. It is there that the demons will hit hardest, if that is their aim."

"Still," Krehess intoned, sounded serious, "This hold the eastern flank. If we fall, it'll open up everything else to attacks. Not to mention cutting off any hope of help from the dwarves. "

Funnily enough, as Awenasa gets more confused, so does Euler. "Not stealing his wealth..." The man ponders this for a few moments then shakes his head, "I don't know what you are getting at, but I don't want any part of it. And if you had any sense, you wouldn't either."

The man wipes off the last of the dust of his robes and picks up his heavy pack, which jangles loudly. "But your choices aren't my business. You seem nice enough so I'll wish you well and be on my way. My claims are safe enough, I suppose. Tell your friend good fortune as well. " And with that, the man starts back down the rocky alley, back the way he came.

Most fighters would have talked or taunted. Circled, looking for an advantage or probing for weaknesses. Johan did not waste time with that. He did not have time for that. Instead the man exploded forward like a runner out of the blocks, head down and shoulders forward.

Krehess was clearly surprised at the suddenness of the attack and barely had time to react. Seeing there was no way to dodge the oncoming storm, the elf weaved his fingers together and slammed them down on Johan's exposed back.

Gauntlet Strike, Power attack: 1d20 + 8 - 1 ⇒ (13) + 8 - 1 = 20
Non lethal, Power Attack: 1d4 + 4 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 4 + 2 = 9

The blow is a solid one but nothing serious, and Johan slams into the elf with the force of a heavy cart. In fact, the human hits him so hard the paladin is bodily lifted from the ground and actually thrown backwards. After this second of impact induced flight, the elf hits the ground in a tangle of armor, limbs and leaves, throwing up a small cloud of dust. And, Johan notes with satisfaction, ends up outside the circle.

Well, that was easy!

Krehess, still a confused pile on the ground, groans softly.

Micovus looks at the Johan, to the fallen elven warrior and back to the human. "Well, that answers that. If it comes to it, Johan can just push all the demons all the wall. " Sergant Shamruldlieh smiles at this, but the atmosphere changes when Krehess regains his feet.

Rubbing his head, he sways slightly. "What did he hit me with?" he mutters in Elven.

"Sense." Micovus says bluntly. "Can we get back to planning now? As much as it is to watch him toss you around like a dried fruit, we do have the whole 'unknown demon army' bearing down on us?"

Krehess pauses, glances at Micovus then turns to Johan. Slowly, although the human isn't sure if this is out of reluctance or residue of being hurtled ten feet through the air, says, "Command us then...." A pause and then, "What is his title? Surely we can't give him an actual rank."

Nice roll, convincing

Euler looks at Awenasa, looks at the empty rocks around them, and then up at that strange milky sky. A pale dusty blue shot through with streaks of dull white, running on a wind Awenasa cannot feel. The heat is oppressive, even down here in the shade of the rocks. Nothing moves here, no signs of life apart from a few dried looking bushes clinging to the rocks. Not even the whine of insects.

The prospector (whatever that was exactly) shakes his head, knowingly, "You are not the first person to try and rob Ely Piggrich, stranger. He is the richest person in town so he attracts his fair share of troubles. Plenty of travelers hear about his mines and figure out a big scheme to steal from them." The man sighs, "They never work. And mark me, yours will not work either."

"I won't be part of any such plan, it'll never work." The robed man goes on, "And I have better ways to spend my time then get worked out by Ely's bully boys...or worse. Stealing from Piggrich is a crime you know. The Sheriff is a nice enough lady but stealing from a citizen? They'll hang you, you know. They have a pole set up just for that, just for hanging folks. Is that where you want to end your travels? No fossils are worth that."

When Awenasa gives a vague answer to her homeland, Euler waves a hand dismissively, "Oh, I understand. Your business is your own. I wouldn't mind knowing the answer, just to see smart to the folks back in town, but it is not proper to pry. My apologies."

When she mentions Piggrich though, the prospector's face becomes even more closed and the man takes a seemingly unconscious half step away from Awenasa. "Friend or foe," The man says musingly, "Well, if that isn't the most desert nomad phrase I've ever heard. Is that how you look at things? You sure you aren't one of them?"

His words seem more aimed at himself, playing for time. He does go on though, "It's complicated. " he fays finally, reaching some internal choice, "I am my own man, free and clear. But Ely is the closest thing I have to a boss. He sells me my equipment and if I find anything, he's the factor I go through. Not that I have much choice in this town. If you are doing something against him, leave me out of it. I want to stay clear." Euler rubs his chin for a moment before adding, voice quiet.

"He is a tough one, Piggrich. Others have tried messing with his affairs and all have come to bad ends. Now you look tough enough, and know your own affairs but I'm just giving you a warning. Don't mess with Ely unless you are ready for a heck of a dust storm."

"Shade is a good idea, out here." Euler says, wiping the last of the dust off his shoulders. "Sure you've noticed, the heat is a killer. Doubly for those not used to it."

The man wiped at his face, sweat leaving streaks among the ever present dust. "Although maybe you are used to it. I noticed you didn't say where you were from, stranger. Lots of rumors in town. Some saya traveler out of Arl, some say a former guard at the Hivemarket and a few even suggest the Ice Clans. I don't think the last, not that I know what an Ice Clanner looks likes." His eyes seem to smile as he adds, "And I am guessing you don't want to share. Fair enough, fair enough."

When Awenasa mentions caves though, his face becomes more guarded again, wary. Not sly or furtive, just someone touching on an unwanted topic.

"Caves? Yes, I know lots of caves."The prospector says slowly, "No one better. How couldn't I? I spend my life digging holes in the countryside, ones already there can make my life easier." He sighs though and glances up at the milky white sky and then the red rocks around them. Finally back to Awenasa, "But see, now you have me worried again. What do you want caves for? The only reason people want to find caves is to find what I'm looking for, a good claim."

Awenasa takes a long hard look at this person. He seems to be telling the truth, both about his knowledge and his concerns. Clearly caves are, somehow, connected to his work. Perhaps he views Awenasa as a possible rival?

Euler stands up slowly, keeping his hands clear, a sign that he at least knows how to not startle someone. perhaps his run ins with the 'desert people', the nomads Awenasa already has met, were touchy situations. Good, at least he wasn't entirely clueless.

"No, quite the opposite, actually." The man says, wiping dust off of his robes. He pushes his pack with his foot, which clanks lightly. The shovel and pick catch the sun, reflecting dully. "I find things. Things buried in the ground. Fossils mostly, but I'll take gold or silver if I can find it. Even iron, although that's mostly worthless." He squints at her, "They don't have miners where you are from?"

Then a flash of an idea crosses his face and he nods, "Are you some sort of other desert people? I know the local nomads don't mine, they find the entire idea quite bizarre, far as I understand. Are you something like that? Akiton is a big place, I guess. Room for all sorts," he says this last bit hopefully, as if maybe she had the same non violent viewpoint.

"I wasn't trying to bother you," he finally adds, "Just, I have claims out here and I didn't know what you were doing. I didn't want you poaching on my claims. That's my livelihood, after all." He looks at her, purple eyes lighter then Altava's. "I can see by your expression that you have no idea what I am talking about and so my worries are groundless." he smiles at this last word like it's a joke but Awenasa doesn't get it.

The prospector shrugs, 'Anyway, what are you doing out here? The desert in mid day is no laughing matter. The nomads don't come up here very much but they don't care for outsiders much. I'd be careful if I were you." he glances around, "Where is the second one, the little fella? Watching me with a rifle from some hidey hole?"

The man narrows his eyes at Awenasa's gestures, then shakes his head a smile on his face. He opens his mouth and starts talking, again in a language Awenasa doesn't know. The man seems chatty, talking quite freely and loudly. Several times he points to his ear, where a small shiny earring dangles. After pointing he points to Awenasa, indicating she should speak.

Why? the Shaonti's mind instantly is wary. Was it a trap, to stall for time? Did the man have confederates? She glanced around. No, unless they were using magic or some trick of this desert she did not know, Awenasa would swear no one else is out here except the animals, plants and rocks (and not too many of the plants and animals in this place).

I'm going to assume here

Awenasa goes through the same routine, of using her motions but this time also narrates things in her fairly weak Common. Anything to indulge this man. At the very least, as she talks, he shuts up and remains quiet (and attentive. Awenasa repeats her entire spiel twice and is starting to get worried she has an idiot on her hands when, out of the blue, the man speaks.

In perfect Common, "Finally! Took long enough." Still sprawled at her feet he smiles and says, "Translator." he taps the earring, "Magic but it needs something work off of. I use it for the desert folks, but figured it's work here too." He looks up at her and then says, "May I stand up?"

A pause and then, "Oh, my name's Euler. I'm a prospector in the lands around here."

The figure must have jumped a foot in the air when Awenasa appears, if by magic, out of the sky. They shout something in a language Awenasa doesn't know and then falls to the ground, sprawled out. Their robe goes flapping, as they land in the dust, gear rattling loudly. They quickly roll face-up and shed their heavy pack.

Then they slow down, moving carefully as if not to startle Awenasa. Hands slowly reach up and remove the dark head-covering. It reveals a humanoid face, although with the dark almost purple eyes of the locals. A male face, with a scruffy brown beard and sharp pointed features. His skins is tanned and worn, showing a life spent out of doors, and probably a decade or two older then Awenasa.

The man spreads his arms wide and says something in a language Awenasa doesn't know. He looks frightened but not terrified.

Great. Now what?

Very nice of you, to find Perey a shady spot

Perey doesn't argue when Awenasa suggests hiding him away somewhere shaded. Clearly the punishing heat is taking a toll on him as well, not that Awenasa is immune. She runs a finger over her ears and the back of her beck. Even slightly protected by her hair, her skin feels tingling and hot to the touch. Sunburn. Ouch.

Still, with all the cragged rocks around, it is easy to find a shady crevice to hide Perey in. Indeed, this area is so broken she almost considered hunting for caves here but there is no trace of water, either now or in the past. Just dry sand, wind-sculpted into small ankle high ripples.

Perey lets out a sigh of relief when he passes into the lee shade of a large red rock, huge cracks running up the side. It almost reminded Awenasa of a huge tree trunk, with ancient cracked bark. Indeed, she almost spotted growth rings among the sand.

"I'll keep an ear out. Make some noise, if you need help." Perey says, already sitting down on a bare low stone. Awenasa can't blame him. She herself is half tempted to stay here and rest a bit, recover her energy and stamina. But that is impossible, finding caves will take time, not to mention the mysterious stranger following them.

So, with some reluctance, Awenasa leaves the shelter of the shade and hides a likely ambush spot. Judging the terrain, she makes a guess at where their pursuer will follow, the obvious path among the tumbled stones and rocky pinnacles. After finding a slightly more exposed bit of path, she hunts for an overhanging ledge, so she can watch and wait. Like a hunting cat was the old Shoanti raider saying. Quiet and calm, resting until that one fatal moment of exertion, an explosion of violence.

If it came to that, of course. Awenasa had no idea who was following them.

A low rocky cliff wall gave good handholds and a lifetime of climbing let Awenasa easily slighter up into a perfect hiding place. A low ledge of rock, sheltered from both the sun and prying eyes below, while offering her a clear sight of the likely trail. Even better, it offered two escape routes. Some sand below allowed an easy jump down, while the top of the wall was just above her, giving the Shoanti the option of rolling up and away.

So she waited, in her perfect hunting blind.

It did not take long. The sun had barely time to move in the milky, strange pale sky when a figure appeared behind some rocks below her.

It was the same humanoid figure she spotted earlier. Covered head in foot in a dark burnoose, Awenasa could see few details, but if it was a human it was a thin and wiry one. They moved with some skill over the broken ground, perhaps not with the grace of a Shoanti raider or the desert nomads, but also not a callow town dweller. This was someone used to the dry places.

What also set them apart from a raider was their gear, of which they carried a great deal. A wide belt hung at their waist, weighed down with many pockets, mostly bulging with unknown items, but Awenasa did recognize two water canteens, a large knife and a mirror. On their back was a very large and heavy looking pack, worn by long years of use in the sun, with sweat stains worked into the battered leather. A shovel and small pick were tied to it, jangling slightly with every step. An unforgivable sin to Awenasa who took utter silence for granted when traveling.

The figure drew near, looking to pass right under her hiding place, still generally following their trail. If she ignored them, they might pass her and Perey entirely (her friend's shady hideout would not be spotted).

Johan can't help but notice he leaves a good bit of grime in the basin after drinking from it, his hands dirty after a night spent in the cells, plus how many days on the road. Johan wasn't an animal, but any means, but he had long ago found his own standards of personal hygiene varied from most people. The human had a feeling elves would have even different, and perhaps radical expectations. Johan did feel a bit bad about leaving the water soiled for the next person.

Anyway, more important matters were at hand.

Before Krehess could speak, Micovus broke in, actually stepping forward from under his shady tree. "Is this really necessary? You already agreed Krehess, and while I don't trust you as far as I can throw you," he pauses to look at the tall, heavily armored man to let the weight of that remark sink in thoroughly before going on, "I don't think you would actually go back on a promise. What is punching him going to prove? How tough you are?"

"Besides, shouldn't be conserving our strength.....and time? Posturing aside, there is a possibly very large army barreling down on us." The elf finishes, looking a bit perplexed at the sudden change of events.

Krehess, however is already shaking off his armored gauntlets with thinly disguised delight on his broad face. Turning to Micovus he says, mock formal, "I am only following the orders of my commander. I live to serve, as do we all."

With that he turns back to Johan, flexing his bare fingers. For a moment he considers the smaller man, sizing him up in more ways then one. Then the tall elf drags an armored toe across the ground, creating a dark brown line of dirt amongst the fallen leaves and flowers. "We mark a circle and first to be pushed, thrown or retreat outside of it loses? That way," [b]He smiles grimly, [b]"You don't get hurt too badly?" He puts on his wasp helmet, hiding his face from view.

Assuming you agree to his plan.

His voice echoed hollowly in the humid air of the greenhouse, made metallic by the helmet. "Sergeant, mark out a circle please. Not too large, we want this to be interesting." Sergant Shamruldlieh, her slightly aged face looking a bit bemused by this display shrugs and starts to mark out a circle on the greenhouse floor, quickly shifting leaves litter to the side.

Micovus throws up his hands and retreats back under his shade tree, shaking his head and muttering about Calistrian pride and arrogance.

Soo the circle is finished, roughly twenty feet across, taking up the entire clearing and a bit more so there are a few bushes and even a small tree near the edge. The basin and cups also lie within the fighting space, too solid to move easily.

Krehess looked down at Johan and bowed slightly, taking up a stance ten feet away. "Shall we begin?"

"I think, it is only going to get hotter." Perey says miserably, looking out over the blasted baking wastes that surround Arsis. Even as they watch, the air shimmers and dances in heat waves, making their vision swim oddly. It was something Awenasa knew well, and knew it was a danger of itself. It could fool the eye, making entire ponds appear and vanish instantly. A mirage could lead a thirsty traveler astray for hours, chasing an endlessly receding fiction.

"We can't wait until nightfall." Perey adds, getting to his feet. "And I don't want to be crawling around in the dark. Gods know what other things might be out there."

Awenasa checks their supplies and after making sure all is well, heads out. Their departure raises more attention then she would have wished, with more then two dozen locals openly watching them set off into the red sandy desert. It occurs to her that people setting off into the empty desert, during the day, is probably not common.

Still, there was nothing for it. With no trees or anythign else, leaving via stealth during the day would be virtually impossible unless she really became a local expert. One good thing, the uneven ground and rocks meant she and Perey would drop out of sight quickly and easily. Even if the entire town watched them leave, they would have no idea where they were going.

It is hard going, over rough ground in the high heat of the day. The world around them become a haze of red dust, milky sky and blazing sun. Awenasa can feel the warmth through her boots, radiating up. Sweat runs down her back, pooling under her arms, drenching her chest. The only saving grace is a bit of dry wind, racing along the sandy dunes. It isn't enough to kick up much dust, but it does dry the sweat. The only issue is they have to keep blinking away the whipping heat.

They are nearly at her first likely site when she has to, reluctantly, conclude someone is following them. Awenasa had, of course, been watching their back trail. She no more could have forgotten that then forget to breathe. What Shoanti raider would fail to notice a pursuer?

Still, she had hoped she was wrong but finally, after nearly an hour of travel, she was sure. Shortly behind them, following along a rocky defile, was some dark-robed humanoid figure. It did not quite move with the easy grace of the desert dweller she met before. A villager, she guessed but she knew little else. Perey at her side, was more busy trying to survive then notice his surroundings.

It is hard to read reactions to his little speech amongst the dense foliage, with leaves and flowers surrounding them. Even as he talks (and walks), he has to push crawling vines and leafy branches out of the way, the rustling loud enough to have earned a whipping from his old veteran trainers. Still, from what he can see, the human wonders if maybe he laid it on too heavy.

Micovus still seems detached and amused, his heavy-lidded eyes fixed on Johan. Sergant Shamruldlieh stands at attention, easy with long practice, in the shade of a rather truncated oak tree, apparently trimmed to fit inside the glass greenhouse. While obviously listening closely, her only reaction is to sweep an errant acorn off her shoulder. Krehess however, stalks about like a caged animal, half-hidden by shadowy greenery. Johan notes though, despite the big man's armor, not a single plant is crushed. He carries his helmet at his side, giving Johan a good look at his handsome face which is, right now, revealing more then a bit of anger. Clearly some of Johan's words about experience have struck home.

Feaehhao breaks the silence first and says, "I think we can solve the last request first. Right here is the water." The three of them step around a large bushy covered with soft lavender flowers that smells of morning dew and honey, to find a small clearing. In one corner is a tall basin, shoulder high, with a vine just above it. From some cunning cleft cut, pure water drips down into the basin, soft and musical. A few crystal cups rest on the basin, their use obvious.

But Johan only has eyes for the other bit of furniture. In the center of the clearing, lies a table fortunately free of vines or growths. The table itself is simple enough, although the wood bears the usual marks of Elven craftsmanship. Clean lines, smoothed edges and elegant simplicity. It the top of the table that so interests the Kellid.

It is a model of the fortress, carved out of solid oak. Or, judging by the perfect smoothness of the counters, grown out of the wood somehow? In any case, it is a an imitation that would make an artist cry. Despite it all being polished brown, Johan can instantly make out every detail. Towers, walls, outbuildings, even areas of disrepair. A tiny smoothed path leads from the gate, winding across the detailed surface. The only color is, around the edge of the table, a fringe of green leaves, matching the forest outside.

Everyone stands silent for a moment when Johan asks to move things along. It seems odd there is no ceremony, no formal changing of the guard. For an entire elvish army to be turned over to a human with no more accompaniment then birdsong and morning dew? There should be a parade or speeches or....something.

But of course there wasn't. This was without precedent and, truth be told, without much honor. Johan doubted his sudden ascendency would be recorded in any histories or sagas, not written down in any books. Not that such tales were likely anyway, since odds are they were all about to be devoured by demons.

They make an odd procession, the four of them. Sergeant Shamruldlieh takes the lead, respectfully guiding Johan back the way they came, down the spiral staircase. Just behind her, doing his best to take it any words is Johan himself, finding his stride a bit limiting with all these tall, graceful elves.

Micovus was next, moving with an easy lazy stride, quite unlike a military march at all. More like a man ambling about his garden or down a country road. Johan wondered if it was an act, an effected casualness or weather it was true. He seemed like a soldier and yet...

No one would make the same mistake of Krehess. The tall elf moved with a stern stride that would have marked him as a soldier in any crowd. Yet there was something more then just square soldiers and a straight back, A certain...smoothness to his motion, of conserved energy despite his size and armor. The grace of a killer.

Meanwhile, Feaehhao spoke quietly, " First things first. We are unsure how far out the enemy is, the scout who returned was in no condition to share details. He is very..." A short pause and then, "wounded." Johan had images of torn faces, ripped out eyes, slagged skin. He knew what a demon could do. None better.

"Still, probably not more then a day's ride, considering the time the ranging was out. We've pulled all the other scouts in for the time being."

"There are about four hundred soldiers in the fort, although the exact number is unsure. Mostly the full-time garrison but some local patrols and such have been pulled in." A pause and then, "Oh, and a small team of engineer gnomes that live here full-time. Bit of an odd breed."

As they talk, they pass down the staircase and through a number of small stone passageways and rooms. Mostly things are quiet but here and there they pass isolated pockets of elves. One or two seemed to approach them, spot Johan and then pause, obviously confused. How on Golarion was he going to break it to these men? That their commanders were so divided they plucked a random stranger out of the jail cells to lead them?

Without warning, Johan steps through a door into bright sunlight. He is standing outside, on the edge of a simple parade ground. Old flagstones press deep into the earth, old colors fading back into gray. The stones are cut well and fine, but here and there grass is starting to spring up between them, nature valiantly attacking a hostile outwork.

On all four sides the walls of the fortress block his view, only leaving a blue dome of the sky above, now nearly fully lit by the still-hidden sun. It is chilly here in the shade, and Johan can spot traceries of frost on the stonework.

His guide leads him toward one of the outer walls where a curious building lies. An entirely glass shed, glittering faintly in the shade. Through the shining all Johan can see are...plants? Lots and lots of plants.

A brown-cloaked elf stands at the door, looking very young and very nervous. he snaps that same wrist-salute to all of them, eyes flicking from Feaehhao, to Micovus to Krehess and lastly Johan. There is a moment of silence and then, as if suddenly realizing, jumps to open the door.

Feaehhao nods and leads them inside the....what seems to be a greenhouse. A wave of warm humid air rolls over Johan, fragrant with the rich smell of life and flowers. Instantly he feels as if he as plunged into a jungle...or a dream. Plants crowd the space, with thick green leaves interposed with colorful flowers. Reds, orange, blue, purple, everything and anything. Thick vines dangle from the glassy ceiling while other plants strive upwards creating a green canopy.

Only an elf would put a command post in such a place. What a contrast to the places he knew to the north among the crusaders. Shack and tents usually, maybe a cold stone room at best. So was this better or worse?

Micovus sneezed twice, cursed and said, 'Sorry. Happens every time."

Awenasa is no stranger to searching out such formations. On the Stroval Plateau of her home, a cave is often the difference between surviving a storm or winter, or dying. True, most of the caves in her homeland had long been found and searched out, the locations memorized and handed down for generations but quah's moved, migrated. It was still a skill taught and understood.

Still, it would be a daunting task. The main trick was to find water, which is what dug out the deep places of the world. But finding moisture in a place like this....would be difficult.

For the next hour or so Awenasa roams around the edge of town, staring out at the circling desert. What is she looking for? Signs of life at a distance. The flash of green from leaves, the hint of shade of a rock, the tell-tale sign of a game trail. She knows she will, eventually, have to venture out into the blasted waste but that is best done carefully, slowly. A Shoanti did not rush out into unknown lands. She would survey as best she could from a safe location, well safer then a sun scorched desert outcropping.

Maybe. the town made her uncomfortable. The people all wore heavy clothes and veils, coated with dust, hiding their faces and eyes. Most ignored her, but a few seemed to almost follow her around, although Awenasa was not sure if was because of fear, interest or just boredom. Who knew with lowlanders?

After about an hour she had two or three locations sighted she wished to try. At her side Perey was sweating and slightly sunburned, his paler skin dealing worse with the pounding sun above. There were no clouds, just a filmy milky hazy above, like a lowlander's gossamer shawl through over the dome of the sky.

Johan stares out over the sickened lands below, the green shading to black. Nothing stirred there, not yet. But if Micovus spoke true there was an army marching this way, a twisted and demonic one. Johan had fought demons before of course, many times, but never an army. Only the older veteran crusaders knew what that was like and their stories, while chilling, could never convey anything close to the truth.

They were coming.

Micovus smiled, "I have spent a bit time in Druma, diplomatic missions, that sort of thing. And one of their favorite words is 'የተሸጠ'. Do you know what it means?"

Johan actually did, it was Dwarven for 'sale or sold' but with a deeper meaning. It meant 'I am convinced this is a fair trade or idea' and carried some spiritual meanings to some dwarven groups, connected to craft and trade.

Seeing the human's face the elf nodded, "Yes, you've convinced me. So...now Krehess. Not at easy sale."

He pushed off the stone wall and raised his voice, "Krehess, enough of this. Are we going to bicker until the snow falls on our graves? Unless you have another option, I say we go with this." His eyes silently indicate Johan.

Once, years ago, Johan had been on a march with some other troopers when they had to cross a small stream. One of the men had a pet dog, a real ferocious mauler that probably did more damage then half the company. But it was terrified of running water and that day marching, it stood on the bank, quivering. It was torn between two emotions. Fear of the churning current and fear of being left behind. Krehess's face reminded him of the at dog.

Except instead of being divided between two fears, it was divided between two rages. Anger at the idea of submitting to a human outsider's orders and anger at the thought of doing nothing while an army came knocking on the front door of his homeland. Two impossible choices and Johan could see them playa cross his face.

The elf's mouth twisted, his eye's flashed, jaw worked like a man chewing month old jerky. Finally, sourly, Krehess said, "On one condition. If we, or the surviving member of our factions, both agree, we can remove him. A final veto in case he turns out to be an idiot."

"If he agrees..." Krehess paused, looking like he'd rather jump off the parapet then continue but, locking his features ground out, "Then I agree with this farce."

A smile flicks across Micovus's face, droll and dry. "Well, I see at least you understand the gravity of the situation. This is good, but you don't quite understand the problem."

"Krehess and I, we are...hmmm, how to explain to a human." The elf pauses, eyes distant for a moment. "Humans have grudges, and inherit them, from their ancestors. They can be sharp, ugly things, yes? Those handed-down rivalries? Now, imagine that one a scale of thousands of years and personal. The worst of both worlds. I cannot trust Krehess, and he cannot trust me. The same goes for every elf in this fortress. Orders will not be followed, if they come from one faction or another. We will bicker and mistrust until we die screaming under demon fangs."

A soft chuckle, "Such is the way of the Fair Ones." He added, using a archaic name for elves. "We are asking you to stand over an ugly chasm, one not much better then the slavering hordes coming our way. Is that something you want to do?" Micovus lowers his voice even more, barely a whisper, almost vanishing under the birdsong.

"I could get you away. Slip you out a back door. There is no reason you need to die with all of us, because of our stupidity. It is not a choice between leading and dying, not for you. You could get away and live to fight another day. Are you sure you don't want that instead of a brief and bitter siege with a bunch of idiot elves?"

"Well, at least he seems to take the job seriously." Micovus says, idlily, still looking at Johan with interest. "It's a start."

Krehess snorts, "I've never known a human to take anything seriously." he turns to Johan, looking down at the considerably shorter man. "Would you rely on a human when battle starts to rage? When the blood starts to flow? When death begins it's dreadful and quickening song? You would trust this one to decide who lives and who dies? How much to give and how much to take? Give this one power to bind and loose? Foolishness, he is as likely to break for the hills as a rebel then fight."

Speech given the elf turns back around to face the morning, cutting a rather dramatic sight against the sun. Shining armor glittering, striking profile lit from behind.

Micovus shook his head, "Before we can give you any information, let's start with the stakes." The elf stands up, pushing off the wall. "Come look with me." The elf gestures to the gap in the head-high crenellations.

Lowering his voice he says to the curious human, "Look to the south. What do you see?" Johan looks over the black stained land below him, vaguely outlines of straggling trees, shimmering tarns and mounds of heaped plant-life. His nose catches a whiff of rank, decaying earth. Before he can reply, Micovus goes on.

"You are looking at the poision of Treerazor. A whole region, twisted and corrupted. You say you fought with the Mendevians, so it will come as no shock for me to say we face a demon."

"Yes, Treerazor is our enemy, and has been for many lives of men. For millennia we have battled with him in our woods, in his swamps and anywhere else his minions roam. His forces are moving as we speak, and a new round of violence about to break. We've had rumors of war for weeks but now the blow is nearly upon us."

The slim elf points a hand to where a small dirt trail leads from the fort southward, quickly getting lost among the dim mists.

"Our captain went that way last night, just when they brought you in. Took two dozen of our best fighters and most experienced scouts, to see what was moving in the backcountry. Only one return, and he is lying below dying of a posioned wound." The elf shook his head, "Raving but one thing was clear before he slipped into the grip of nightmares. An army is coming, an army to take this fortress and kill everyone inside."

Krehess let out a disgusted snort when Johan refused to fight. The big elf rolled his shoulders and took off his glittering wasp helmet, revealing heavy dark features...which, for an elf, still meant he was handsome. A strong chin, broad forehead and a curly mop of dark hair. The bright eyes gleam in the rising dawn light, as he gestures disdainfully toward Johan.

"He won't even fight!" And turns to face the sun.

The other two elves, Micovus and Feaehhao remain facing the human, taking in his words. When he mostly addresses Feaehhao, a ghost of a smile flickers across the woman's face again.

'Do not look at me,' She says , "I am not in charge here, I am the lowest ranked elf on this parapet."

Micovus snorts and leans back against the cold stones of the castle, eyes narrowed, "Maybe, but you leave us a pretty puzzle. Of course, the human is right. It is a bizarre plan, but less so once explained."

Still leaning, he turns his gaze onto Johan, "I see you speak our language, but I doubt you truly understand us. Few outsiders do, for reasons both good and bad. Without explaining several thousand years of history, which we do not have time for, let me say this. Elves have a way of holding grudges and clinging to memory."

"Sometimes, this leads to....considerable division." Still looking away Krehess snorts.

"You are currently witnessing one. Krehess and I are the two surviving ranking members of this garrison but unfortunately we are two members of....rival factions. Even worse chance, ever single member of this garrison, from us down to the newest recruit, are also members of these two groups. The results....well, they are probably plain to you."

"Sergeant Feaehhao is obviously proposing we need an outsider." The elf rubs his chin and raises his voice, tilting his head toward Krehess. "He wouldn't have to actually be in charge, Krehess." The tall elf stands unmoved. "He could be a symbol of unity and a tie-break in case either of us gets too jumpy. Think of him as a ....referee."

"This is no game." The larger elf intones, still gazing out over the black swamp landscape streaching away southward. Johan looks that way but can see nothing but dark mists and hills.