Call of Nyslyeiagh

Session 1

During the bitter, rain clad winter months Raz, like many people within the city, has been prone to staying in doors. Currently the man is in one of the taverns people are known to look for adventurers, yes those fool hardy enough to take money for doing dangerous and oft times stupid tasks. He's seated at the bar, in fact, while conversing with the bartender and awaiting the arrival of the man with the details.

The door to the common room swings open, admitting a black-haired, dark-skinned, and thoroughly drenched Viera, eyes slitted in irritation as she slinks towards the end of the bar. Perching herself on an unoccupied stool, she rests her hands on the counter, finger-claws rapping on the polished wood, the pall of a legendary sulk settling itself around her shoulders.

"Oh! Hi Alba!" A certain black and white mouse warrior looks up from the bar upon hearing the Viera's claws rap upon the bar, and she puts on a big, not quite drunk yet but working on it grin. "Didn't 'spect ter see you here ternight." She lifts a half-empty bottle of rum and sloshes the countents about. "Yer ready ter try summin' what'll put hairs on yer chest?" She cackles to herself, and then stops, looking deadpan. "Oi. Raziel. How'd yer git in'ere wit'out me noticin'? Yer all sneaky-chops now'r what?"

A few minutes after Alba's arrival, the door opens again, admitting a scrawny-looking young man who seems more appropriately dressed for the weather, his wide-brimmed hat and long cloak shedding water as he steps in out of the rain. He takes a moment to look about the tavern with eyes half-hidden behind shaggy black hair, making his way towards the bar for a seat and a drink with a rather good-natured smile, possibly ever-present by the looks of it, on his lips. Taking a stool, he flags down a barkeep and orders a the cheapest drink the barkeep will serve before taking a look down the bar to see who else looks like they might be waiting. As his drink arrives, he asks the barkeep, "Hey, this where people're gathering for a job, ya?"

Catching the door just before it closes, a form draped in a sandsea dweller's cloak enters the bar, and as he walks along, strangely the toes have been cut off so that the actual toes are exposed almost over the edges of them. Taking a moment to pull his hood back after stepping inside, Kier scans the bar for several moments, and spotting a familiar face, Raziel is given the briefest of nods before he approaches just on the edges of things. Leaving some coin on the bar counter, and pointing to the keg on tap, the young but stoic man's cloak shifts and moves as of all things... a kitten slips out, walking it's way up his arm and coming to rest on the bartop as well. Sand-colored, with a bushy tail and wide ears, giving it an almost foxlike appearance, the bartender is given a meow of greeting before the little creature curls that tail around it's feet and looks around at the others, it's owner seeming to ignore the rest for the beer.

A rather strange procession moves through the streets of Emberstrand... A gilded Palanquin, its possibly inhabitants obscured by heavy silken drapes, carried on the shoulders of silent, well muscled servants, moving in slow march. Each of them looking almost near identical, with shaved heads, bare chests, and puffy silken trousers- Their calm, almost bland faces lacking any expression which indicate they might be bothered by carrying their load through the cold weather. These... Slaves, as perhaps they might be, are in turn preceded by a group of guards, who's ornate, polished armor and weapons could likely rival those of any King's Guard. These men moving in a silent march as well, by their very sight clearing the way for their Master. People on the streets stepping aside to stare after the procession, as it steadily makes its way to the Wildfire inn... And as it nears the establishment, a single figure who'd been bounding along next to the carried Litter, smoothly breaks away from the group to scamper up ahead after apparently receiving word from an unseen presence within. Said figure a small, shaven headed, golden skinned man of rotund build, dressed in exquisite robes of some silvery material, and carrying a parchment scroll in one chubby fingered hand as he hurries himself through the inn's entrance. Stepping inside in such a manner as to let his presence be instantly known... Looking around before speaking up in a surprisingly loud, booming voice, "Hail, people of the city of Emberstrand! I am in need of skilled men and women with a taste for Grand Adventure! Would there be such individuals present, perchance?" He asks, looking around calmly with strange, obsidian eyes. Likely knowing (or hoping) there would be atleast some people present who decided to respond to the written call for skilled adventurers from a few days ago.

"I think perhaps your cup was too deep to take notice of my arrival, Celeste.." Raziel looks towards her and nods lightly before looking beyond to the annoyed and quite wet viera. Another nod given her as he takes a drink from his mug and then pushes it away as the runner steps inside and makes the announcement. Coin is dropped on the wooden counter top and the aegyl stands, turning to look towards the speaker, though he notes Kier and dips his head slightly to him. Turning eyes back towards interestingly clothed man for a few moments before he steps forward. "There are a few here who would answer that call I believe."

"...No," Alba mutters in answer to Celeste's offer. "The Captain heard of this... adventure. He wishes that we go." The other two that enter get a cursory glance, before she returns her attention to her cousin. "...It will be good to leave the madness of this weather--" She trails off as the golden figure makes his entrance, briefly at a loss for words; even in such a cosmopolitan city as Emberstrand, some sights are flatly uncommon. "...There would be such people," she manages, after Raziel accounts for himself.

Celeste's expression brightens considerably, listening to what's being said. "Whassat? A'venture? Well Ifrit's Balls, where'm I signin' up?" She plonks the rum down in front of Alba, and hops off the bar stool, stretching once she gets to her feet. "Well I'mma all fer it, orders'r not! So who else? Anyone else brave 'nough ter travel wit' me an' Alba, an' thrash some asses while we'at it?" She tilts her head, glancing first at the new arrivals, and then at Raziel. "How 'bout you, Raziel? Now that yer done bein' sneaky, nevermind me cups."

Lee turns as the door is thrown open and the booming voice makes it's call, draining his glass before slipping off his stool, looking towards the others who are rising to the golden man's call and commenting to himself, "Well, looks like that's what I was waitin' for..." He lays a coin on the bar, stepping his way towards the others that seem to be getting up at the call, particularly Celeste and her enthusiastic response, giving Raziel, Alba and Celeste each a polite tip of the brim of his hat, "Ah, hello there. Pleasant mornin'."

Kier hmphs softly, and sips at his beer for a moment longer before Dust hisses at the sudden and booming entrance, bolting his way up his master's arm to hide into the cowl of the cloak. Keeping his back to the group a moment longer, he finishes the drink, and reaches up and under the cloak, pulling out his compound recurve bow from seeming nowhere. Instead of saying anything more, he just steps up next to Raziel, and looks at the others before arching a brow at the pompous and obese little man before them. Sweeping the cloak back, revealing his spare form, he plants the end of the bow on the ground, leaning on it ever so slightly.

Another person is here. The announcement for some sort of adventuring party intrigues Ainsley, and she hops off her seat with a light 'thump' and approaches the group. She has her hood up over her head, her eyes glowing in the dark of the clothing. She regards the loud fellow, raises one of her hands, and gives a confirmation in her reptillian voice, "Aye," and says nothing more. She sheathes her hands in her robe sleeves, sparing a glance to those present, quiet and attentive.

The funny little man smiles at everyone as they get up to rise to the call... His lips stretching a bit too much to be normal, and the more perceptive among you might notice the presence of sharp little teeth where regular ones should be on most human-like races. He speaks up again, softer this time, but still with a deep baritone that ill matches his short, round frame, "Ah, excellent! Excellent!" He sweeps those dark, beady eyes of his over each and everyone of you, taking in several details before he nods in satisfaction, and continues to speak, "An excellent group, yes indeed. You all look very able. The Master will be pleased." He smiles again, before he motions for you all to follow, and promptly turns around to step back out, "Come, the Master awaits." As he moves, he actually seems quicker and more nimble than his build suggests, smoothly scurrying back outside. And anyone that follows, soon encounters him standing right by that Litter, still held alof by the larger, silent servants and flanked by the well-equipped, fancy guardsmen. The little man himself standing with his head tilted as he listens to someone 'speaking' from within said Litter... Or rather, listening to a series of quiet, wet gurgles and sucking sounds, as if someone is inside, stomping hard on a dead fish. But he seems to understand what's being 'said', nodding before looking at anyone that followed, "Ah, the Master wishes to greet you all! And thank you for your descision to rise to his call."

Raziel looks towards Celeste for a moment and then shakes his head slightly, one might think in amusement, but he doesn't respond more then that. However when Kier steps up beside him the aegyl turns his head, "don't cats eat those of the rodent persuasion? Let us hope your little friend has learned some wisdom in foes too large for him. Turning attention back to the little man he tilts his head, missing some of those details however, before he merely nods and follows him out of the tavern, a scowl finding it's way to his face as they emerge into the foul weather. He's so distracted by this annoyance that he ends up quietly asking the others, "did you hear something that sounded like a fi... no nevermind."

Alba shakes the water off one hand, ears flattening as she trails in Celeste and Raziel's wake, nose wrinkling at the thought of having to return to the horrid weather outside. Once out onto the lane, she shifts to one side, behind Celeste's left hand, an arm resting atop the hilt of one of her knives. At the little man's conveyance of his Master's thanks, she inclines her head, once, and silently watches the whole procession, litter-bearers, guards, and all, exuding a sense of deep distrust.

Celeste glances at the man with the pet cat, and then at Raziel, on the way out. She shakes her head and sighs softly. "S'long as he ain't gettin' no funny ideas 'bout lunch, I'mma sure we all git 'long fine," she drawls. Emerging back out into the rain she plants her hands on her hips, letting the water course down over her, drenching both fur and what clothes she's wearing. Standing beside the litter, she lets out a loud belch, and shakes her head. "I'mma prefer ter see a man's face b'fore I'mma workin' for him," she observes. She pauses then, and tilts her head to one side before scowling mightily. "Damnit! I'mma left me rum on the bar."

Lee keeps his smile as he listens to the little man with the big voice, watching and listening curiously from under the brim of his hat and hmming slightly to himself. He follows along as the group is led back outside, the weather bothering him not at all, covered as he is, taking his place with the others and looking up and down the collection of guards and transportational labor. His attention drawn back to the spokesman, his smile grows, though Celeste's complaint draws his attention away slightly soon after, leaving it divided between her and the booming-voiced little man.

The cloak is pulled off, and is rolled very carefully until it became something barely the size of a winecup before being put away in the back pouch, leaving Kier's arms and body free to move, revealing the quiver of arrows on his back. The small feline remains on his right shoulder, with the arm wielding the bow for a moment, balanced perfectly as the tanned young man moves along beside the others. Staying to the back of the crowd, he makes no motion to acknowledge, instead just standing there, looking back and forth at the slaves and servants with an almost lupine gaze. Ainsley follows them all outside. Her book is not likely to be harmed, because it's made to resist all kinds of weather, even freakish sandstorms and even snow. She is attentive to the group's reactions. The man before them, strange as he is, only puts a spark of intense curiosity in her eyes. Not a single emotional twitch in her face, not that anyone can see under the hood. Violet eyes lid at the mention of greating and thanks, her head tilting slightly to the side. She cuuurls and wiggles her tail around with some surprising energy, though she doesn't appear overtly affected. Truthfully, she's trying to remember if she's seen this specific cultural oddity before, maybe in a book she's read somewhere. She mumbles to herself, soon, just speaking in broken, nonsensical sentences, certainly giving away her attempts to recall.

The little man smiles that odd smile at all of you again, before his black eyes shift to Celeste. An expression that almost manages to convey sadness slips in place then, and he shakes his head, before answering the drunken girl, "Ah, I'm afraid that's impossible, miss Adventurer. The Master can not leave the protection of his shelter..." He motions a shubby hand back at the Litter, "As your city's climate does not agree with him." He pauses then, and loudly snaps his fingers, causing one of the large servants- one that isn't busy carrying the Litter- to detach itself from the crowd, carrying an ornately decorated box. The servant faces each of you, and lifts the lid... Showing said box to be filled to the brim with Gil. The little man continues speaking, "I hope the reward we offer for this quest will be a sufficient motivator either way?" He asks, letting his gaze linger curiously on Celeste for a moment longer, before he goes right on with the show, letting her figure out her own descision, "But I digress, ladies and gentleman..." He then finally unrolls that parchment he's been holding in one hand, and raises his voice again as he reads, "The Master, the Right Honorable Nyslyeiagh, Merchant Prince of Zara-Qum, the Satrap of the Seven Oases, the Dunewalker, the Tradelord, the Hoardmaster, the Waterbinder..." And he continues to read off a list of various ecclectic titles for a while, before adding, "... Wishes to hire all of you, grand adventurers, to retrieve the Sacred Skull of Tutamkash from the Tomb of Tutamkash, in exchange for five thousand of your Gil, each, together with any treasure you may find within the Tomb aside from the sacred skull." He looks up then, glancing over each of you, "Travel has been arranged, and any expenses on the way will be covered." He smiles, then, and awaits the group's reaction.

As no one answers him the aegyl merely shakes his head a little to himself and frowns deeply, something about the day making him feel a little.. off. Celeste's observation elicits a nod from the man before he looks back towards the fellow. Slowly his brow lifts as the titles are read off, impressed by the length of time it is taking to read them off if nothing else. When finally the details of the request are revealed a brief glance is cast around the gathered before he looks back and considers. "A strange request.. but a good price. Very well."

Alba's ears straighten at the succession of titles rolling off the herald's tongue, eyebrows rising behind her shaggy black bangs. One hand rises to rest on Celeste's shoulder. "Worry not, Cousin," she murmurs. "I know this name." Lifting her head, she nods to the golden man. "It is prize enough. Tell your Master his coin will be spent well."

"Ye-but.. I, but..." Celeste arches an eyebrow, and scowls mightily. "A'ight, I'mma goin'," she declares at last. "'Long as I gets ter shank summin' proper good wi' me spear, I'mma happy. But throw in some rum fer th'trip, yeah? Make things go smoother." She stretches, arching her back and thrusting her chest forwards, and then arranges her spear a little on her back as she settles. "Well, I'mma ready. Kill beasties, bring back skull, get gil and trinkets."

Lee looks at Ainsley for a moment as she mumbles and mutters, head cocking slightly before the spokesman launches into the list of titles, which holds his attention for the first three after the Honorable Nyslyeiagh's name before he seems to tune them out, the conclusion and terms of employment getting his focus once again a moment later. His smile fades into a slight and thoughtful frown, looking as if about to speak up before Alba's reassurance to Celeste gives him pause, giving the young man another moment of consideration before he evidently decides to keep his peace. He still looks slightly bothered, but puts his smile back on all the same, and hooking a thumb at Celeste, he follows with, "What she said. Mostly, anyway. When do we leave, then, eh?"

Looking into the box for a moment, Kier fingers the gold, and then looks to the servant holding it for several moments, before nodding in acceptance. When he speaks, his voice is low and soft, with a subtle lightness to it, "We ate before coming." A sidelong grin coming from him as he reaches up and strokes under the chin of the small feline on his shoulder, before looking to the others, and then back towards the palanquin and sniffs once. His jaw works a few times, and then it comes almost like a grudging admission, "Anywhere, so long as we don't have to hear that title again."

The title causes Ainsley to mouth every word as if memorizing it. She doesn't make a peep, though she does seem distracted by something. But then, she hasn't looked very focused since she decided to attend this little adventure. The gold does not keep her interest very well. She spares it a glance, and then a glance at the others... Money can buy information, she remembers, so she nods lightly... The description of a tomb makes her frown. Immediately tomb traps come to mind, and the first thing that comes to mind is, "Do you have any information on this tomb? I do not wish to bumble into a crypt blindly." It's the first coherent thing out of her since she said that one word of confirmation.

The little man looks pleased as each of you seems to either be swayed by the gold, or the promise of adventure. Snapping his fingers again, the servant carrying the Gil snaps the box shut again, and silently retreats back into position, before the rotund, golden skinned fellow speaks up again, "Excellent! Excellent! Now, to answer some of your questions: I'm afraid we will be leaving with the hour, as travel arrangements were sadly short notice. I suggest you spent that time wisely to prepare yourselves, before reporting to the docks so you can board the airship that will take you to Zara-Qum, where your grand adventure will begin." He smiles at everyone again, before glancing at Ainsley, "As for information... I will be happy to hand over any details to you once you are aboard the ship, miss Adventurer." And then, he looks at Celeste, "As for 'refreshments', we will provide a wide collection of fine beverages for your tasting, miss. Though I might suggest not getting too deep in your cups. The Sandsea does not look kindly on anyone, but especially the inebriated." He actually gives her a wink, before he firmly clasps his hands together, "Well, if that is all? I will gladly await your arrival at the docks in one hour. Please do not be late." And with that, the procession behind him suddenly starts moving again, as if on cue, and after giving a deep, flowery bow, the little man slides up next to the Litter to move off with it towards the docks.

Raziel casts a quick look at Kier and then he nods a little, murmuring, "a good thing I am thinking.." Turning attention back towards their future employer's litter and his 'mouth' the man falls quiet as he awaits an answer to Ainsley's inquiry, though the responce she's given draws a faint 'hmmm' before he nods a little. "An hour is not long. Excuse me." A nod given to those he'll be travelling with and then the winged man steps a few feet away to shake the worst of the water from his wings before he takes to the sky so that he might cross the town swifter than he would be able to afoot.

Alba inclines her head to the rotund herald. "Cousin," she says quietly, "you will wish the traveling robes from our time with Mother's clan. I will see to our other needs." Straightening, her ears rise, pricking forwards, the Viera seeming... almost content. "It will be good to return to the Sandsea," she says, nodding to Kier, Lee, and Ainsley, before making her way toward the Bazaar.

The mouse warrior's eyebrows rise sharply. "Robes?!" She snorts, and shakes her head. "I hate robes," she complains. "They all too hot an' they itch an' make it hard fer me ter move proper when I'mma needs ter skewer some idjit." She looks like she's about to say something to Raziel, but the man takes off before she can form the words, so she looks towards Kier and Ainsley instead. "Right, well, see y'two in an hour, yeah? I'mma sure Alba'll keep me onn'a schedule." With that, she flashes a grin, and falls into step alongside the viera.

Lee pays no attention to the procession as it leaves, and instead watches Razliel, then Alba and Celeste go their ways. He stands for a long moment, thinking, then nodding to himself, turning to the other two remaining adventurers with a smile, tipping the brim of his hat to both Kier and Ainsley in turn, "This looks like it'll be interestin', eh? Guess I'll be seein' you both there." With that, he heads in the direction of the docks, humming a tune to himself under his breath while slipping a flask from under his cloak, taking a sip of whatever it contains as he walks.

All that comes from Kier is a bit of a grunt from under his breath as he turns and starts walking towards the inn, digging the cloak back out from his satchel and starts to pull it back over his shoulders. He stops a moment and looks back at the procession before returning and taking the box he was offered with him. Where others go home, he simply goes back to where he was before...

A very snippy retort comes from Ainsley, "I cannot prepare for an excursion if you refuse to give me the details until we've left," with a very wide motion of a hand, and a lash of her tail. She huffs at the herald, apparently just kind of angry now. But she soon deflates her attitude, returning to her calm demeanor. "This had better not make me bleed," she complains in almost a monotone as she turns to look for a merchant to get some rope and other crypt-raiding supplies from.

Hopefully each of you has prepared themselves well for the quest ahead, even with the little time you were given. And once you head to the docks, you will find a large airship ready and waiting. Gilded letters on its side proclaiming it to be the 'Azure Dream'. It's a fine merchant vessel, quick and nimble for its size, and able to offer each of you safe and comfortable transport to the destination across the sandsea. It seems the Tradelord's procession has already settled in as well, The Right Honorable Nyslyeiagh himself nowhere to be seen- likely having retreated to his chambers- But some of the armored soldiers seen milling about the deck, while the little man himself, the golden skinned Herald, scurries back and forth to make last minute arrangements with the ship's crew. Then, once each of you settle yourself in, it doesn't take too long for the vessel to finally get underway... Discarding its moorings before it starts slipping high up into the sky, soon breaking through the dark cloud cover itself, leaving the foul weather behind, far below as it sets 'sail' towards the horizon. Onward towards adventure!

Session 2

The trip on the 'Azure Dream', the airship that's bringing the group of adventurers to the Sandsea trade-town of Zara-Qum, lasts a couple of mostly uneventful days... The lot of you left free to roam around the deck and occupy yourselves, while your generous host, the mysterious Merchant Prince Nyslyeiagh himself stays well hidden within his cabin, unseen for the entire voyage, and the entrance to his quarters guarded non-stop by two of those large, mute slaves... His Herald however, that funny little gold-skinned man with the creepy too-wide mouth- Who's name turns out to be 'Phog'- Has apparently been tasked by his master to keep himself well in view. A 'friendly' presence through the voyage who seems all too ready to answer any question you may have, of course to the best of his ability, and to make the trip as comfortable as possible for his great master's 'guests'. And it doesn't take long for the trip to come to an end... The endless sea of sand down below that has been the monotonous scenery for more than a day, soon making way for a glittering jewel of a large, sprawling city as the ship starts to descend towards it... Phog approaching each of you with one of those broad, toothy smiles, "Behold, Adventurers... Zara-Qum, pride of the Sandsea."

Raziel stands out on the deck, his wings tucked in against his back so as not to catch the wind blowing over the ship, while he watches the horizon. As their craft begins to descend the mage studies the city and then shoulders a pack he collected and brought along when they were originally told to 'make ready' for the voyage.

<Paged to Ainsley>"Sometime during the voyage, Phog approaches you, all smiles and politeness as usual, and hands you a rather new looking papyrus scroll, bound by leather string. The funny little man informs you it is the sparse information on the object of your quest, which he had promised to give, translated from ancient script to something more easily readable by modern individuals. Once you study it, it becomes clear the goal of the quest is to retrieve something called the 'Skull of Tutamkash' from the temple of the same name. This sacred, apparently very powerful magical object being literally the mummified skull of a once powerful mage of a race of fish-men, the Ghatasi, who dwelled within their forbidden city below an ancient lake, before they seemingly died out in a 'great cataclysm' hinted to be the decades long draught that created part of the Sandsea."

Alba stands at the prow of the ship, elbows resting on the railing, her dust-stained white travelling robes fluttering behind her in the wind of the ship's passage. During the trip, the Viera has been almost pleasant; still taciturn, still not actively seeking out company, but nowhere *near* as sullen and surly as she would normally be in Emberstrand. If one didn't know better, the Granite-eared Viera would almost seem... cheered, by the desolate surroundings.

Ainsley is, conversely, increasingly grumpy as the trip goes on, only because whatever information she had received has seemingly made her unhappy. Very unhappy. She avoids talking to people, but that seems normal to her, and she wouldn't /seem/ unhappy if not for her tail wiggling around like an agitated feline. She's not especially good at expressing emotion. And she has that hood drawn up over her head most of the time. She looks at Phog suspiciously. She systematically begins informing people, "You may want to prepare for water and poison traps," walking up to people individually to say this, "And to ready yourself for magical defenses. It's almost certain we'll be slogging through water where we're going."

A certain mouse warrior is likely to have given Ainsley the same answer every time she may have been told to prepare for anything. "If'n anyhin' be all lookin' at me funny, I'mma shank 'im wi' me spear. Right inn'a belly, or a lung or summin'... but not livers or kidneys. Them's Alba's." Having spent the trip in her usual, half-naked attire -- not to mention half drunk -- today Celeste is up on deck in white travelling robes, markedly similar to the ones Alba is awearing. She's near the prow as well, and is sitting on the railing near the anchor. Her spear is out, and she's busy paying attention to her spear with a whetstone, making soft scraping sounds as it passes over the blade, again, and again, and again.

Lee's been quite sociable and gregarious for the duration of the trip, having attempted to at least talk to everyone involved, even Phog strangely enough, at least five times over the course of the journey, though never about any subject of any real consequence. When warned about poison traps and water traps and what-not, his only response was a wide smile and a cheeky, outwardly unconcerned "Never had much trouble with water or poisons or such, but I'll keep an eye out. Thanks for tha warnin', though, just tha same." With the ship making preparations to land, he's up on deck as well, and he even has a pack now, though he didn't seem to have one when he boarded. It's a small pack, to be sure, doesn't look like i holds much, but it's a pack just the same.

In contrast to Lee's garrulousness, Kier is quite taciturn, with any spoken words happening between himself and Raziel, with the occasional unspoken language between himself and the Viera girl. Ainsley's warning seem to rebound off of him like a brick wall as he moves away from the group and starts looking towards where the most important men in the sandsea village next to the one who brought them here. The water merchants. As he steps out into the harsh sunlight, the mottled desert cloak is pulled back over him, just the peak of his bow sticking out from one side, marring the line and making a small tent where a pair of blue eyes stare out in curiousity. The smallest member of the party, Dust... seems to avoid the owners of the vessel like the plague, hissing any time Phog comes close.

As the ship descends towards the city, each of you is afforded an excellent view of it. Zara-Qum apparently consisting entirely out of tan adobe buildings of strange heights and proportions, and seemingly build without any real structured layout... Creating a massive, confusing warren of small streets and alleys, with the main thorough fares marked by massive, compacted throngs of people in brightly colored dress. Some of these people perhaps of races unseen by any of you before, build just as oddly as the surrounding structures. The ship itself flies towards one of these structures- A tall, crooked tower on the outskirts of the city, just inside what appear to be the city walls. The Captain expertly guiding the vessel towards one of the wide platforms that seem to stick out from the tower's every side at seemingly random intervals... While around you sailors start moving about in a burst of activity, preparing the moorings as the ship docks itself. In the meantime, Phog regards each of you, smiling and polite as always, even in the face of taciturn hunters and hissing cats, as he clasps his hands together and speaks up in that oddly deep, booming voice, "And here we are, arrived at last... Now, the Master instructs me that each of you is free to leave once docking procedures have been completed, the explore the great Zara-Qum at your leisure, and perhaps pick up some more much needed supplies for yourselves. But I also inform you that arrangements have been made to have you depart on your Quest tommorow, at first light. So I implore you, please be on time." He grins, creepily wide, and soon hands each of you a scroll, "To ensure no one will get lost, I have taken the liberty to acquire some maps of the city so you may find your way to the Western Gate in the morning." And with that, the ship having docked, Phog waves each of you off...

Raziel accepts one of the maps and then nods his head in responce before looking back to the otherds. Kier, Alba and Celeste are given nods and then his eyes turn to Lee and Ainsley both. "We will need to see about getting extra water and any other supplies that you are in need of. Trade cities are not kind to those unfamiliar with them, so I would not suggest wandering alone. So choose where you both would wish to go and I will accompany you." The others, it seems, he's not so worried about.

Alba accepts the map with a brief nod, eyes flicking toward Ainsley. "We shall be so prepared," she says to the scholar, drawing up the hood of her robes. "In kind, you will wish to purchase water in the morning, before you arrive at the gates. It is a heavy thing to carry, thus, better to carry small skins, arranged about hips and shoulders." With a slow nod, she moves away from Ainsley, to Celeste's side. "Mind not to drink overmuch this night, Cousin. We may ill afford a strong spear dying for lack of water when the sun climbs high."

Most of Ainsley's companions sort of shrug off her advice or don't really reply to her. Except Alba. Which makes her sigh when she's informed the last one, only Alba really getting a smile out of her. "Then I will buy the water-proof sack," she remarks, mostly under her breath. She looks to Phog for a brief moment or two longer. Then she remarks to him, before the others just scamper off, "The skull is a piece of your master's heritage, yes?" She doesn't wait long for the answer. She sticks near Raziel, and tells him, "I need to purchase water skins, and it would be best if I could acquire remedies for our companions. When I say 'poison' traps, I do not mean a simple stomach illness. Probably powerful addling substances from obscure rivers, things that trick the eyes and unsteady the body, perhaps even melt the skin."

Celeste lets out a low groan of frustration. "Alba, I'mma never go off boozin' or even guzzlin' overmuch water a'fore we be goin' off fer a dust up," she complains. "I know I'm all stupid and that, but I'mma ain't bloody stupid, right?" She slings her newly sharpened spear across her back, and pulls the hood of her robes up over her head as she falls into step with the viera. "But y'all," she continues, turning to look over her shoulder at the others, with a particularly pointed glance to Ainsley, "Oughta listen ter 'er advice." She flashes a grin at Lee, and the same to Kier, before looking forwards once more. "Dun worry yer sweet head, Phog, we'll all'a be at'a gates at'a right time."

Lee cocks his head at Raziel and grins, "Appreciate your offer, sir. Although, though I may not look it, I've been through a few trade cities before. Still, I'll not begrudge the company, to be sure, so I'll follow your lead." He looks next to Ainsley, "Or maybe it's your lead?" Looking back and forth between Raziel and Ainsley a couple more times, he shrugs, "Well, whichever, makes no matter to me who leads, really." He blinks and grins at Celeste, tipping his hat, "Aye, miss, aye, sound advice an' all that." After which a thought occurs to him, the young man giving a short laugh under his breath as a result.

Phog grins at Ainsley as she asks her question, and answers with that same polite, booming voice, "Ah, the Master's reasons for interest in the object are his alone. Even I do not know the true intent. Though he is a known collector of artifacts." And then he smoothly sends Ainsley on her way together with the others... And it is hoped your time spent in the city over the next evening and night is without incident. Without running afoul of its many dangers which could spell an unwary visitor's demise. Such as the Cult of Ash'Siggur, who's eery, cloaked agents are always on the prowl for new 'recruits', or the assassins of the Guild of Murder, who's poisoned blades spell doom with just a single scratch. Even Zara-Qum's common thugs are ever on the lookout for victims to rob and terrorize, the many back alleys the territory of some gang or another when night falls... But if each of you made it through this, as well as more subtle dangers, and managed to decipher the map that was given to you, then the Western Gate awaits your arrival come morning. Said gate a tall archway set within the city's west wall, its portcullis raised to allow free traffic into the shimmering desert beyond. And off to one side, Phog awaits, standing next to a collection of strange, furry pack animals... A couple of large humps growing straight out of the backs of the large beasts. Standing around listlessly, each animal carrying a burden of packs- perhaps extra supplies- While a tall, thin man, clad entirely in white robes and face-covering turban holds onto the reigns of the lead animal, standing entirely silent.

Alba's ears flick as she arrives at the gate, the Viera making her way to the caravan, eyes flicking over the pack harnesses with a practiced eye. Turning to the robed man, she unhooks one of the several waterskins hanging from various points on her frame, offering it silently with both hands.

Raziel accompanies Ainsley and Lee to the water merchants and sees about getting a few skins for himself as well. The mage keeps company with them through the night to assure no one crosses the wrong group, even himself, and the next day he approaches the gate after following the map (and taking a few aerial views to held decipher it) with them still. "An interesting city, though I do not think I would want to stay here overly long."

When all is said and done, and Ainsley has prepared for the journey, getting the best supplies she could scrounge up with what little money she has-- she's not particularly /good/ at bartering, though --so she has a few water skins, and some herbal remedies to counteract neurotoxins and acids. She's pretty much broke by the time she arrives with the others. And her book is packed up in a sack of treated leather made to block out water from full-on submersion, something she had to wrestle from a sailor by convincing him he'll never need it out in the middle of a desert. But when they see the pack animals, she gives a couple claps of glee, even making a slightly girlish noise, probably immediately shattering all pretense of mysterious scholar. "CAMELS oh I have never seen a camel before! Only chocobos!" She turns to someone at random, unfortunately it being Celeste, and points out helpfully, "Did you know that they store enormous amounts of fat in the humps for long journies with very little food? Very amazing creatures. Faaar less prone to dying way out in a desert. Chocobos were never meant for travelling in this climate."

The white robes Celeste wears are... a little bit less white today. They're stained from dust and sand, and... ahh yes, that would be blood. She walks a coin across her knuckles, which happens to be gold on one side and a rather ugly crimson on the other. She has water sacks distributed about herself, mostly on the bandoleer across her chest and the twin belts about her waist, along with one bag that jingles with the unmistakeable sound of coin. "Izzat so?" she replies, turning her gaze to Ainsley. "Well, fancy that." She looks at the camel, then back at Ainsley. "I'mma bet they all taste great if'n yer sear 'em over a fire, just right. Maybe a little rum fer flavor... maybe not, Iunno how they taste."

Lee tags along after Raziel and Ainsley, though he seems to vanish for short periods throughout the excursion. He always seems to find Raziel and Ainsley again without much trouble, though, and always none the worse for wear. By the time it's time to gather for departure, he's more or less on time, though it seems he's still traveling light, having acquired only two moderately-sized water skins, one slung over each shoulder, and his small pack only filled a bit more than it was the previous afternoon, though it's difficult to tell since it rides beneath his cloak. Noteably, though, his cloak and hat have transformed at some point over the night from black to tan, with the addition of a similarly colored scarf of lightweight fabric draped about his shoulders, and a pair of goggles hanging about his neck. The clothes beneath are still black as they were before, however, and a careful eye might spot a rip in the fabric of his shirt around the left kidney area... Though he himself seems to pay no mind to it. Overall, he looks to be firmly set in the cheery mood that seems typical of him. Joining those already present, he looks about, "Well, seems a fine enough day, doesn't it? Clear air, bright, bright... very bright sunshine, wonderful weather! Is it tim to go yet? We probably shouldn't dawdle, should we?"

Doglegging Raziel's group and generally keeping himself in a position to be the silent watchmen of the small group, Kier ends up stopping at the water merchants much longer than the others. Besides two pouches and a skin that is slung over his back, the desert traveller also exhanges for a folded piece of paper, a leather bag that he opens that has some kind of butter in it... and then several herbal packets that are pre-wrapped. Once that is settled, he falls in with the rest, saying loud enough for Raziel to hear, "I believe we are prepared now."

That tall, silent figure in the turban quietly bows towards Alba, and accepts the waterskin without a word... Before one hand comes up to lift part of the veil that covers his face, and he takes a polite sip, before returning it again to the Viera. Considering his height- Atleast 6'8"- and his gangly build, he might even be a Viera himself! But one might never know below those robes and turban, and he doesn't seem inclined to give information about himself... Though his head is briefly turned towards Ainsley as she starts babbling about the nature of his animals. Phog, in the meantime, turns towards each arrival with a welcoming spread of his hands and accompanying wide grin, letting beady black eyes wander over each of them with a strange gleam of approval, "Ah, excellent, excellent! You all made it... I am glad the Master decided to hire strong men and women, powerful in spirit and body, who would not easily succumb to this city's strange and sometimes wicked ways..." He lets those words hang there for a moment, giving each the opportunity to think back on possible interesting experiences they had the night before, but then smoothly continues again, "But I digress, my friends... The time has come for you to continue on your journey. As such, I have hired an experienced guide." He motions towards the robed man, "To help you on your way... Now, I'm afraid there is the distinct possibility of grave peril on this journey. Perhaps you will fight against both bandits and hungry creatures of the desert... And this is only the first leg of said journey, before you head into where even the Tribes rarely venture..." "But I promise you, the rewards and the glory will be sufficient compensation. And if not for your adventurous nature, a willingless to face peril, then why would you be here to begin with, hm?" He smiles, and then makes a strange, seemingly religious hand gesture towards each of you, "May the Great One guide you." And with that, he starts to head off, leaving each of you to either mount one of the 'Camels' or walk along side them, as the silent robed figure starts guiding the procession into the desert beyond...

Some things are are better not to ask about. Celeste's blood stained clothes and Lee's attire change being among them. While the camels are being explained by Ainsley the winged man looks them over and then nods a little. Kier is given a grunt in responce before he too receives a nod, "a good thing as I do not think they would wish to be kept waiting." He strolls closer to the camels to get a better look at them while listening to the gold skinned man and measuring their guide for a few quiet moments. Finally Looking back to the speaker he dips his head and looks beyond to Ainsley, "so tell us more about this place we are going while we travel."

Alba takes the waterskin back with a nod, raising it to her lips for a likewise brief sip, before returning it to its place at her hip. "'Ware," she says quietly to Ainsley as the scholar approaches the camels. "Those of foul temper are fond of biting their displeasure away." Dropping a hand on Celeste's shoulder, the black-haired Viera tilts her head to speak into the mouse's ear. "One will range ahead of the caravan, one behind. Better for you to remain in its midst, where your spear will argue strongly against the Yensa's wishes." Glancing to Kier, she raises an eyebrow, leaving it to him to decide which end of the procession to cover.

Glee! Now people /want/ to hear what she has to say. Ainsley, feeling validated and as a result appearing very giddy and energetic, continues in her slightly reptillian but decidedly female voice, "If we have to /eat/ the camels," she emphasizes precariously, "Then we're already in far more dire straits than people who can choose to eat something tasty. Let's hope we don't have to eat a camel, hmm?" She flashes a smile at Celeste, though looks toward Raziel, appeased by his request. "It's an old tomb of a race of fish people, containing an artifact of a powerful mage. It's likely to have been specifically trapped by his followers, so that it would only be /easy/ to invade if you were one of the race... And I don't think any of us can breathe water. It would be a safe assumption our patron, the mysterious creature in the jar, is one of the race that had made the tomb and cannot reach the tomb himself. That would mean large sections of the tomb would be /underwater/, or at least very muddy and unpleasant. The likelihood of Flans and bug monsters is high. I hope you have also brought rope, because aquatic creatures do not make ladders." She heeds Alba's warning-- rather, reminder, as Ainsley already knows they have bad tempers --and sidles away from the nearest camel as she's speaking.

The mouse's ear perks up to listen to what Alba has to say, and she nods her head once. "A'ight," she replies. "Make sure whoever yer picks fer front er back knows the handsigns fer danger an' whatnot, yeah? 'Specially if'n they goin' a'front." She adjusts the bandoleer over her chest, hefting the heavy spear on her back, before sidling up towards one of the camels. "Yer hear that, bad-breath? Bookworms says yer taste like crap." She laughs, and turns once more to face the group, and flashes a wink at Ainsley. "We's all be fine, I'mma sure. But... yer lost me. Fish people? Desert? How all they get there? Sounds like yer addin' two an' two an' gettin' three. or sommin' is."

Lee listens to Phog, seeming eager to depart, though he is attentive enough that he doesn't miss any of the golden man's words. But he doesn't reflect much on the past night, either, and, for his part, is one who opts to ride rather than walk, at least for now. Though with how he watches the gate as it falls behind, though frequent looks over his shoulder, it's almost as if he expects ne'er-do-wells of some sort to leap out after him. He doesn't carry a sense of fear over it; no, not that. More like wariness mixed with grim expectation, veiled underneath his cheery demeanor, that lessens in proportion to the distance between himself and the gate until he seems completely carefree once more. Until Ainsley's rapid chatter draws his attention, his eyebrows climbing under his hat, "Wait, what, jar? Who's in a jar, now?" Keeping otherwise quiet as Celeste touches on the other main points of curiosity herself.

Approaching Alba, Kier stops before her and holds up the folded paper, then unfolds to show her the local's map of the sandsea, and the landmark points that point for directions of travel and water-marks for oases. He spends a few moments to let her look it over as he also holds up the bag of what looks to be camel butter, murmuring to her, "Take front, I will stay back to keep us oriented. The first point should be here." Motioning to the first watermark on the map, and then adds, "Range in sight of the caravan... watch for the Aegyl's wings. They are our best mark for the caravan." And with that being said he moves over to Raziel, and Dust crawls out a moment to glare at the birdman, but he whispers to him as well, "If anything happens, flare your wings and take flight. We will come."

Miles upon miles of rolling desert greet the group as the robed man guides his camels ever deeper... Dunes rising and falling endlessly towards the horizon, giving a good indication just why they call it the 'Sandsea'. It not being just a poetic name. And like any sea, it has its dangers. One might even be concerned about 'drowning' out here, running the risk of stepping into a stretch of quicksand and quickly be smothered by the fine material before anyone else could even jump to your aid. But luckily, your silent guide seems to know what he's doing... Following a set, safe path with meticulous planning and advanced knowledge. Infact pretty much following the route that has been marked on Kier's special map, as the hunter likely guessed beforehand. But still, it doesn't come without its discomforts. Those dunes sometimes difficult to traverse, and the bright sun beating down on the group relentlessly... Though those close to the camels might notice the collection of hand-held Parasols that are part of the supplies carried by the animals.

Raziel looks at Ainsley and his mood seems to sour. Feathers and water are not the best of friends after all. "Flans I can deal with, if they are around the watery areas then the likelihood they are attatched to it's element is high, which means fire magics will work... A aquatic temple in the middle of the desert though is a strange thing indeed." He puts a hand on the side of the camel near him and then speaks, "you behave and we will get along." And it spits just short of his shoe. A sure sign. He swings onto the nealing camel's saddle before it stands and he turns his head to look down at Kier. A nod comes then as he murmurs, "I have worked as a caravan guard more than once. Do not worry, I am no novice to it." He merely looks back at Dust before turning his attention to Kier once again with a quick nod. Hours later the man calmly rides atop the grunting and annoyed creature, his eyes constantly scanning the horizon for dangers roaming the sands. The parasol is not used, but he has put on a light robe to help deflect the sun. Something that he can slip off without a problem to take to wing should it be needed. His water is sparingly sipped from while he ponders on the dangers that lay in wait ahead.

Alba ranges ahead of the caravan as well as Kier could want, dunes scaled without complaint, quicksand stretches avoided with the sharp-eyed ease of the Sandsea native. Keeping within range of the main body, her hands do a great deal of talking to the guide and Celeste over the distance; sand-bog to the left, two dunes to go after the one currently being crested, careful of the rocks on the right, and so on. Without saying a word, she manages to keep up a nearly-constant stream of chatter between her position and the rest of the caravan.

The explanation for the aquatic nature of the temple is given soon enough. Ainsley speaks as they're preparing to gather up on the camels, which involved, inexplicably, her removing the majority of her robe to stuff in the pack. Her skin, evidently, is all scales and such, apparently not very easy to burn. She wears something very much like light leather armor, making her appear more like a battlemage that might go for a swim sometime soon. "It was made by a race that lived in a very large lake," she says, with an informative tone, "That had a great cataclysm. That is, the lake dried up and they were likely forced to migrate or mostly died out. Fish people can't live in a desert, so their little paradise away from their common predators would have quickly become a hellish place none of them would want to stay at. It's very likely the mages became very important before this happened, to maintain the water supply and perhaps even try to get mercy from Leviathan. The whole of their civilization may have been overcome by the Sandsea's flow for a long time and only uncovered again recently by winds." When they finally get going properly, she watches Alba in particular, idly memorizing the various hand gestures. She does keep moderately aware of their surroundings, but she is not good at combat and doesn't seem confident in being aware of bandits. She'd just need to retreat away from close combat if it came to that.

As the caravan trods along, Celeste keeps herself neatly alongside the camels. She walks far off enough from them on one side that she can relay hand messages between Alba and Kier, and keeps up constant communication with both of them; though she doesn't wander far enough from the camels that more than a few steps would get her back in their midst. She switches sides periodically, based on some unseen factors, or perhaps even just to switch things up a bit. "Watch yer step," she cauions to one of the camels when it tries to step on her during one such switch. Her spear remains strapped to her back, occasionally loosened in its sling; the sun reflects off the gleaming point, almost a beacon in and of itself as she walks. She lopes across the sand with easy, confident strides; her impact on her water is minimal, just enough to keep hydrated, though she does mildly dampen a cloth to drape across her brow when the sun is at its zenith.

Lee seems, after the first few hours, comfortable enough where he's perched, much like Raziel, atop a camel, shaded nicely by the wide brim of his hat and his cloak. He doesn't move much, though, doesn't take sips from one of the filled skins he carries. He seems, in fact, to be napping, eyes closed and arms crossed, one leg hooked over in such a way that his balance is nicely kept without much effort, despite the camel's gait, both passing the time and conserving energy in one simple step. After a while, he stirs, eyes opening and taking a glance around at the surrounding expanse of sand dunes and sky before he finally takes a very small sip from one of his skins before turning to Raziel and Ainsley, "So, 'bout how far is it to where we're goin', y'think? Far enough that we'll need to camp before we get there, maybe? Never was clear on that, the whole distance thing that is, figurin' maybe I missed mention of it."

Draped in his sandcloak and with his scarf up over his mouth, Kier is something of an imposing sight for the desert, often times going unseen if one is not knowing right where to look for him, but when he returns the signals to the others, his dark leather gloves do stand out. Wearing his cloak low on him, the drape behind him has a nice secondary effect of dulling the trail. Every hour he comes back up to the group to check in, and get some fresh water to refill the smaller containers on his hip, also getting a small handful of water for Dust. By the third, the man leaves his kitten on the camel with Raziel... and strangely for once... the normally growly and annoyed ball of fur instead curls up close by his mortal foe and just stays in his shade.

It seems trouble is intent to catch up faster then perhaps is desired... As Alba, at the forefront of the procession, might eventually notice the brief glimpses of quick movement behind the dunes to her left... Followed by the same thing to her right not a minute later. Horribly fast tan shapes moving in unison, keeping pace with the group, scurrying around in the immediate distance. And even if Alba or anyone else doesn't notice, that silent guide certainly seems to. The tall, mysterious man quite suddenly bringing the- slightly protesting- Camels to a halt, even as his head raises and he seems to scan the area- even sniff the air... Before a hand quietly dips into the internals of the robe, and come out with a wicked looking curved dagger, its blade gleaming in the sun as he steps close, protectively, to his suddenly nervous animals. Each of you is left to fend for themselves, apparently none of his concern, even as the enemy shows itself soon after... Humanoid figures appearing at the top of each dune, all around you, each clad in sand-colored rags, and visibly carrying an assortment of weapons- Spears, daggers, scimitars, and what appear to be some sort of animal tusks- all gleaming in the sun, while they stare down at the group below, their sheer malevolence almost visible in the air. And before anyone might have too much time to prepare themselves, a slightly larger specimen than the rest raises its spear high up in the air, silhouetting it against the sun, before an otherworldly battlecry is let loose... Echoing out a hollow, "OOOOLLLAAAAAHHH!". Signaling the whole troupe to charge down the dunes, weapons flashing...

Raziel stiffens and then suddenly casts the robe off. The kitten is scooped up and then dropped into the pack slung acrossed his chest, inside his provisions asside from the water packs, and then without hopping down from the camel the mage launches himself up into the air and his wings snap out to take him upwards for a brief moment while magic energies begin to swirl around the aegyl. His wings stop beating for a moment and he starts to glide down towards the ground while the magic coalesces into fireballs which rain down on their attackers. As soon as the fire hits the sand, sending foes and earth both flying the aegyl's wings start beating once more. Wings or fire.. a good signal to Alba to be sure.

Alba the moment the ambush makes itself known, Alba is on her way back to the caravan, knives in hand and kicking up sand behind her. "KIER! TO THE CARAVAN!" She skids to a halt a short distance away, weapons at the ready and eyes flickering over the oncoming tide of bandits. A hungry smile flickers over her face, ears flattening against her dust-stained headwrap. "*Now* I am home," she mutters to herself, darting forward to meet the charge, blades seeking the soft places in her foes; organs, eyes, bellies and veins, never staying in one place for very long, concentrating more on harrying her foe rather than seeking the kill.

An ethereal word of heavy fury rumbles out of Ainsley, electricity arcing up her arm, almost as soon as they start charging down, and she aims a bolt of lightning directly toward one of the ones holding a metallic weapon, hoping to at least sear his hand or knock him out of his shoes...! She spares a glance to the man in the turban, her tail flickering agitatedly. Then she looks up at Raziel, in the sky, and then to the more close-combat inclined. She seems to be searching for the best place to be away from the sharp pointy objects, for the time being, while at the same time looking for targets of strategic value, mainly those that would give her a way to keep out of range of the brunt of the battle.

Where her Vieran cousin seeks to wound and harry, Celeste seeks to maim and slaughter. The moment it is clear an attack is coming the mouse warrior pulls her spear from its sling, and then unclasps bandoleer and belts; as her water skins fall to the ground she throws off her robes, stepping out of them and revealing a her more usual attire underneath. "ALBA!" She shouts, "MIND YER-- Oh, yer saw 'im." She rushes into the fray, letting the gleaming point of her spear precede her; she thrusts forwards with the weapon, attacking low and upwards, looking for abdomens to disembowel, rib cages to penetrate, and upturned chins to push her blade underneath of and into the soft brain above. She whirls the weapon to block and parry, to turn aside blades, though wounds may be in the offing no matter how fast she is, for she makes her line straight for the largest and most aggressive amongst the raiders, howling a wordless cry of joyous battle on the way.

Lee blinks as 'people', or so he designates them in his mind, appear at the tops of surrounding dunes, and before his question can even be answered, the young man quipping to himself even as Raziel takes to the air, "Well, hello there..." He slips off his camel, into the shadow cast by the beast, as the charge begins, and off comes his hat, quick work made to wind the light scarf about his head, to cover it completely save for his eyes, which become occupied by goggles; the hat he leaves hanging on the horn of the saddle he was in seconds before. That done, he's out of the camel's shadow again, stepping a bit away from the animal, but not too far, before standing and waiting, his cloak settling about him. The charge doesn't keep him waiting, the young man likely looking an easy target before he sidesteps the first to reach him, kicking the feet out from under the charging bandit. A lucky shot, perhaps? He -still- looks like an easy target after that, small and probably weak... Lee is swallowed from view for a time immediately after, however, as those following descend upon him just as he settles into what looks to be some kind of unarmed combat stance. Could be anyone's guess how that works out for him, under the circumstances.

Moving up to the top of the dunes where he can see most of what's going on, Kier is outside of the ambush by sheer chance, and just smirks to himself. Unlimbering the bow with a deceptive and easy slowness, he looks over the group of incoming raiders, and then draws out a single arrow. As the string goes back, it begins to glow blue, and the arrow itself becomes argent green fire. Instead of aiming at any one person in particular, he mutters to himself, "Great Ixion, great lord of the Thunder Plains, grant them your speed." And that single shot is loosed. As the string sings, the mana-charged arrow's apex comes just over the group itself, where it detonates, sending bolts of green light that strike each and every one of the man's allies. The green glow infuses the entire group and gives them all a faint red glow as they all find themselves Hasted... movements coming fast and sure, mind flying through scenarios as the incoming tribesmen seem to slow to a crawl. Still moving casually, he nocks another arrow and begins to sight in.

It seems the bandits intend to rely more on numbers rather than any sort of genuine skill or tactics, simply charging down the dunes in several quick, armed-to-the-teeth waves... And when the two enemies finally clash, the true nature of battle becomes clear. None of the glory and heroics of stories, but simple carnage. The spray of blood, the snapping of bone, the skewering of vital organs, the screams of the dying and wounded. The group of adventurers, with their powers combined, making swift work of the belligerents. Raziel's fireballs sending bandits flying, screeching inhumanly as they find vital areas of their physique scorched to a crisp. Others likewise bursting into flame and exploding flesh as Ainsley's magical thunderbolt strikes home into some of the others, even taking the torso clean off one of them as he charges straight for the lizard, his legs running onward for a single moment before collapsing into a smoking heap, smelling of burned pork. Even more of them find themselves outmatched by sheer melee and hand to hand skills, Alba's blades and Celeste's spear making short work of the ones charging at them, organs skewered or sliced, tendons severed, major arteries spouting crimson blood. And even Lee's personal battle seems to reap results, some of those bandits that mobbed him finding themselves flung back, limbs or even necks standing at weird, unnatural angles... And finally, while Kier does not participate directly, his magical arrow certainly might be the most important aspect of the group's defense. Hastened as they suddenly find themselves, each of the raiders becoming no more than a slow moving target to be vanquished... The battle starting to end almost as soon as it started.

Alba slashes the throat of a downed bandit, just to make sure, then straightens. There's a slight, but noticeable limp to her stride as she makes her way back to the caravan, blood trickling from the slashes and minor punctures she'd managed to accumulate throughout the fight. "We will wish to travel onward quickly," she says, voice strained. "There is a great bounty of food for those who require their meat... seasoned."

Ainsley, once the battle is done, very quickly hops off her safe spot and scrambles over to Alba first, pulling various healing items out of her supply sack, mostly just salves and the like as she's no white mage, but she's certainly better than anything else. "H-hold on, I can help with those cuts," she attempts. Not hampering them too much, just wanting to handle Alba's wounds before they scab over too much or end up getting festered by some obscure desert ailment. Ainsley did get a few nicks and a cut under one of her eyes from someone who threw a knife at her, and a few others who thought getting close with dull iron swords would help their chances against lightning.

As the din of battle dies down, Celeste rams her spear into the belly of one last fallen foe; while the raider struggles and wails in agony, Celeste twists the weapon slowly, tearing organs and unleashing a lethal flow of blood. With a fierce pull she tugs her spear free once more, and stands up straight, stretching her arms behind her back and surveying the battlefield. "Too easy," she pronounces, even as she bleeds from multiple cuts, and a couple of stab wounds. Her free hand brushes through her hair, leaving crimson streaks in the white locks. She flashes a grin, and starts ambling about the corpses of the fallen, picking over them here and there. "A'ight," she comments to nobody in particular. "Any'a yer lackwit bastards 'ave anythin' worthwhile'r shiney-like?"

Lee emerges from the knot of bandits that surrounded him after a moment, following out a poor unfortunate that is the current recipient of a flurry of fast, sharp blows, ehnanced further by the spell of Haste, from Lee's open palms and clenched fists, the cloaked young man seeming to spend most of his time within six inches of whoever he's focused on at the time. A sharp strike with the heel of his hand to the chin of his current target sends the bandit's limp form sailing, and a smooth spin, leading with the heel of a boot, takes him back towards those that remain, though it looks as if Lee has taken his fair share of punishment. Cuts, slashes, there's even a dagger lodged in his thigh and a ragged gash near his stomach where it looks like he may have been run through, not that he seems to pay either detail any mind at the moment. The lenses of his goggles flashing crimson in the most peculiar way despite the bright desert, he stalks quickly and smoothly back towards those that engaged him, even as those that are able to do so turn and flee, seeming somehow unnerved, though it might be difficult to tell by exactly what. He holds his stance a moment more as they flee, before relaxing and turning back towards the nearest camel's shadow to retrieve his hat and unwrap his head. It's only after this that he seems to notice the dagger in his leg, wincing mightily as he yanks it free, "Ah, bloody bollocks, that smarts..." He inspects the newly freed, and evidently newly acquired, blade, "Not a bad knife, though... Think I'll keep it." At the offer of Ainsley's medical salves and such, when she gets around to him, he smiles kindly, but waves her off towards anyone else that might need it, seeming without much regard for his own injuries, even as he reaches for one of his own water skins, "I appreciate tha thought, but such things won't do me much good. You'll do better off usin' them on everyone else rather than on me. I'll be right as rain before too long, anyway." That said, he uncaps his chosen skin, and starts taking long, slow, deep pulls from the contents.

The desert is filled with the screeches, moans and screams of the dead and dying. Even the bandits who find themselves realizing in time that they are overmatched ending up slaughtered before they can turn tail and run... Each of you imbued with Haste as you are, easily catching up with those cowards to finish them off- Those who manage to flee from Lee soon cut down by one of the others as well, too caught up in their strange terror to notice the knife or spear or bolt of magical element that gruesomely ends their life not soon after. Red blood, as red as any of that of the known humanoid races, stains the desert sand, filling the air with its metallic tang mixed with the unsavory smell of greasy, cooked pork. A few corpses- or pieces of them- still smoldering and burning where they landed. The whole area left a corpse-littered battlefield, even after such a brief conflict, but which is something that should come to no surprise to any experienced combatant within the group. And while each of you finishes up with what you're doing- whether it be tending to wounds, finishing off bandits, finding shiny things among their possessions, or simply stowing your weapons after a good minute's work- That mysterious, silent guide of yours certainly doesn't keep still himself in the meantime... The man having quietly dispatched a few enemies during the melee, his dagger rather skillfully finding throats, lungs and hearts of those raiders that threaten his animals. And now that the fight seems to be over he starts to jump from nearby wounded bandit to the next, swiftly cutting jugulars with a hunter's detached sense of coup de grace. Before he straightens himself again and slides that dagger back out of view... A single nod given to Alba's suggestion to move on, and a hand reaching out for the lead Camel's reigns to drag the animal with. Making the others follow, and seemingly expecting the adventurers to do the same.

Session 3

After the group's brief but bloody battle with those bandits, their stoic, silent guide swiftly ushered them onward, to avoid the raider's brethren showing up in even larger numbers and exacting revenge. It is now several days later, and still the desert seems to stretch onward eternally... The group travelling in the heat of the day, and resting in the cold of the night. The robed guide forcing everyone to stay close together, as if expecting some sort of trouble during these nocturnal hours. That isn't to say the daytime is much better. A few more dangers already encountered by the group... Especially that run-in with that giant scorpion. Now that was an epic battle! Worthy of any of the scars it left, and the stories it gives to tell your children. But luckily, the treck through this hellish place will soon come to an end... Unknown as it is to the party (except maybe those that can fly), that the final destination lays just beyond a tall, steep sand dune which almost blocks out the horizon ahead. Promising a difficult climb in its loose sand.

In the mornings Raziel has taken to flying up long enough to survey the area. This time when he lands and moves towards the camel that he has formed an 'understanding' with (you don't spit on me I don't set you on fire) the man speaks up. "Beyond the next dune the desert ends. Don't rush it though, it will not be an easy climb." He takes a sip of water then perches on the camel back while wrapping his cloak around and adding a light scarf around his head and over mouth and nose. "And though the end is soon, do not let your guards down."

When not running scout for the caravan, Alba has been busy. The stinger of the giant scorpion, broken off in the aftermath of the fight and tucked into the Lobo's-head pouch at her hip. Since then, the sullen Viera has been working at what could only be said to be crude folk art; the stinger split in half, fastened to a leather thong bearing black beads, bits of dark seashell, and other seemingly random detritus. The resulting creations, one each fastened to the sheaths of her daggers. And so she has traveled the remaining miles, saying nothing about her efforts. As the final dune is crested, she turns to face the caravan, hand flashing in the silent-speech of the nomad tribes; Raziel is correct, the temple is not far now.

Thank goodness Ainsley brought plenty of antivenom, which made /recovering/ from the battle with the giant scorpion fairly painless. So to speak. Anyone that got poisoned ended up being cured by the stuff that the reptile brought, having expected deep desert monsters to have plenty of unpleasant toxins. The journey through the desert has made her appear fairly tired, but the occasional unusual desert feature has kept her attention, making her scribble down drawings. She's making a vague map, it seems, using any landmark she can spot in the Sandsea that isn't another sand dune. The tall dune makes her frown. She ponders how she's going to be able to climb that... She glances to the side, as if to see if there were a way around it.

The often exuberant mouse-warrior trudges trhough the sand at the middle of the caravan, though unlike in the cities, she's been keeping very quiet and doing most of her talking in the nomad hand-signals, like Alba, to whom she responds to affirm her understanding. Afterall, in the Nam Yensa, noise brings raiders and monsters, and so often enough, silence is life. She glances at Raziel, and flashes a grin and a nod there, as well. Though she makes no folk art, Celeste has not gone entirely wanting for spoils; new bits of jewelry, a couple of necklaces and some dangly earings, glint where they hang around her neck and from her ears. The dead raiders didn't need them anymore, afterall; nor did they need their robes, from which she's torn strips to bandage her wounds, mostly about her arms and torso. The news that their destination is near buoys her spirits, visibly so, as she climbs more swiftly up the dune, and limbers her spear in its sling.

Lee's, who has occupied much of the daylight hours of travel with some form or another of sleep and thus remaining awake most of the nights at camp to aid in keeping watch, is napping in the camel-saddle once again as word starts filtering around that the trek is soon ending. Despite the odd and sometimes inconsistent sleep schedule, he never really seems tired or the worse for wear, aside from the roughing-up he got from the battle with the raiders and being stung by the giant scorpion. Despite that, though his clothes are showing evidence of his ill-treatment at the hands of adversaries, wounds he'd sustained during those altercations are no longer evident. Rousing himself at Raziel's words, he looks around, then behind, then ahead, "Ah, almost there, then? Was wonderin' when we'd be getting there."

Beyond the tall dune lies what appears to be a deep, natural and dried basin of somesort... The bottom of the dune petering out into what looks to have been somekind of shoreline in ancient times, with the basin having been a wide, deep lake. This all seen by Raziel in his brief flyover, together with what appear to be the ruins of a city in the immediate distance, though its details blurred out by the shimmer of heat. The dune itself- which seems to stretch on forever towards either side, creating a natural(or so it might be assumed) bulwark between the endless desert at one end, and the long dead lake on the other- is rather hard and tiresome to climb... But not impossible. And it doesn't took too long for everyone to gather at its apex. To drink in the sight themselves.

In the meantime, some might notice the robed guide's distinct, almost forced lack of interest in the basin down below... And as he gathers up the reins of a few camels, he quietly approaches Alba. The man speaks for the first time then, his voice quiet and almost gentle... Sounding oddly young as he addresses the Viera in the language of the Tribes, "I can not go on. It is forbidden." He states simply, before he points back down to dune whence he came, "I will wait." ... Seemingly leaving it at that as without another word, he turns, and starts guiding his animals down again. Strange guy indeed.

Raziel hesitates at the at the top dune for a few long moments, the mage inhaling for a brief moment before he looks to the left then right. "Be on guard as you start to climb down. It is easier to go faster but speed has it's own pitfalls." He pauses when the guide comes by for his camel, but then nods and dismounts. His things are gathered then, the pack a little bit sparser from the days rations that have been taken from it, and his cloak is put into it as he spreads his wings, stretching them before planning to take flight. Easiest way to get down. "Ainsley." A quick glance cast to her, "come I'll carry you down. Your small enough to be held while I fly to the base."

Alba's ear flicks in response to the guide's soft warning, and she nods once, slowly. "This land is taboo," she says to the group as the guide makes his way down. "It is likely that the scholar's preparations are not in vain, for such places carry many dangers."

"This is why people should listen to the wordy creature with the knack for books, they always know how to make these trips easier," Ainsley remarks playfully when Alba speaks, hopping off the camel as the guide begins moving them back down the dune. She toddles over to Raziel, and holds out her arms at him, the sparsely-clad desert scholar grinning her sharp-toothed grin and waiting for him to pick her up. And once he does, she would savor the view of the basin. Because being transported by a flying person allows her to get a better idea of where they're going, so she can help guide them further on if needed.

Celeste advances past the camels while they and their owner retreat back down the dune, and comes to a stop beside Alba at the crest. She plants her hands on her hips, and chews on her thoughts for a minute, looking down at their destination below. "Dun look like much," she comments, after a long silence. "Obviously no bars, no gamblin' halls, no boys... nor women, fer that matter." She flashes a lopsided grin, and shrugs her shoulders. "Hopefully summin' ter beat senseless though."

Lee dismounts as the camels are collected, readjusting his pack under his cloak, grinning as he joins everyone else, watching the camels go back down for a moment before turning to face the basin, "No women? Well, we can't have everything, I suppose... Still, could be worse! Ha!"

Kier's silence during the trip is finally broken upon sight of the valley, stopping for a moment to look over the edge, and then back at Alba's conversation with the sandsea guide. Unlimbering his bow, he tests the string and finally passes by Celeste towards the trail down to the ancient city, "Come along. Let is go spring our employer's trap, shall we? He's paid us a rather large sum of money to die for him down there... the least we can do is oblige." Almost sounding like a joke, he takes point this time, looking back to the others, and then meeting eyes with Alba and Raziel in turn, and all his wit aside, his eyes are graven.

The way down is even harder than the way up, of course. And those that aren't flying or are getting flown might find themselves tumbling and falling a few times if they're not careful. At the least, everyone will likely end up with some scrapes, and clothes covered in dust. But atleast no one is dead once you all finally reach the bottom... No traps sprung. Yet. Standing upon the 'shore line' now, it can be seen to gently slope down to deeper parts of the basin. Of what was once a lake, evidenced by what appear to be the remains of long dead aquatic life the deeper one moves in... These near-fossils likely of much interest to Ainsley, consisting out of a plethora of dried out shells that crunch underfoot, together with the sparse remains of strange, dead fish.

And somewhere in the distance, one could even spot the tall, bleached curves of gigantic ribs- Atleast twice as high as any of you(or three times as high as tiny Ainsley), while flanked by an equally gigantic predatory skull, a long snout lined with long, curved teeth. Almost looking to be the bones of a larger specimen of those big green lizards one can sometimes find at oases and rivers here. But of course, the true sight to be beheld shimmers in the heat... The city of Untgarash laying in ruins up ahead, at what appears to be the dried up lake's deepest part.

Due to their airborne route rather thab land, Raziel and Ainsley both are without mark by the time they reach the shoreline. Looking back up from the way they'd come he tilts his head before nodding as the rest make their way down. Once all are ready the aegyl begins out into the lake bed, making a straight approach to the temple while shells crunch underfoot. "You believe there is water still there?" The question asked of all. "If so I hope a spring otherwise the waters will be poisonous themselves.."

"To the tribes of the Sandsea," Alba says, more sliding down the dune than walking, "water is more precious than all of the coin of the Wetlander peoples. It is unlikely it would be fouled so. Possible," she amends, nodding to Ainsley, "but not likely." Hopping to her feet at the base of the dune, she slides her knives from their sheaths, the tips of the stingers dragging audibly across the metal. In their wake, the blades seem to shimmer with an unhealthy green aura, and the Viera nods in satisfaction upon seeing the change. "Cousin, see to our backs."

So many exotic fish species! Ainsley pulls out a small notepad she had brought along and begins scribbling down pictures and shorthand descriptions of everything she hasn't seen before, even marveling at the huge skeleton of a desert crocodile. She looks like she's in heaven, by the look on her face, and she's very careful not to step on anything particularly interesting. She hardly notices the conversation, except, "No, the waters would not be stagnant this far out, if there is any water to find. The lake had to have gotten its water from somewhere, and it would not have been rain, so there is a chance there is a spring that got sealed up. It would not be a good idea to open the spring again until everything of value is already gotten from this basin, if it's even possible to restore the lake."

Celeste strides, slides, and cascades down the dune, all the way to the bottom. Her white robes haven't really been white since getting blood on them in Zara-Qom, but now they're truely filthy; and she doesn't seem to mind a bit, as she struts away from the bottom of the dune; right up until she's told to guard the rear. She lets out a muffled grunt of frustration. "I'mma *always* guardin' ever'body else's backsides," she mutters, even as she draws her spear and rests it on her shoulder, and falls to the back of the group. She keeps an eye out, naturally; even if it may be a job that isn't her favorite, she applies herself to it with at least feigned enthusiasm.

Lee is one who makes his way down carefully, seeming very keen on NOT taking a tumble. As a result, he's perhaps the last of the group to reach the bottom, and relatively clean as well overall. Once at the bottom, he looks towards the heat-shrouded citadel in the distance from under the wide brim of his hat, "Looks like a fair bit of a walk... Any guesses on how far it -actually- is? Not that it matters how far, I'd just like to get out of this damnedable sun at some point. As for dying, well, death's not all that bad, once you get used to it, or so I hear. All the same, I'm rather keen on keeping what life I have, if I can at all help it." He takes a sip from one of his two waterskins, and when the group begins to move, he falls into step rather easily.

The smallest member of the entourage slips from Kier's cloak and starts padding along in front of him, looking around and occasionally running off to sniff at something, before coming back. Dust meows once at the group, adding his own commentary before somewhat falling in line again. Kier himself readies an arrow, nocking it but not drawing the string as he says to Lee, "Worry less about the dying... and instead focus on what happens being killed and then after." As if that was not ominous enough he moves ahead, trailed by the small cat who grabs the sweeping cloak and makes his way up to hide in the hood, staring at the others behind him. Getting in step with Alba, he reiterates to her softly, "Rotten fish."

The treck through the basin is pretty uneventful... Though as one heads deeper, the number of seashells and strange, dead fish increases. The remains of these aquatic animals looking almost out of place in this scorched wasteland, the heat almost more unrelenting here than it was in the open desert- The sun shining brightly off the hard, white soil underfoot. Though atleast, as the group approaches the city, the heat shimmer that was warping its view seems to gradually lift... Or rather, it moves back as you all move onward. And everyone can get a good look at it now... Most of the ancient settlement seemingly consisting out of homes and buildings that resemble large Conches more than anything, complete with what remains of some mother-of-pearl outer layer- though most of it eroded by now.

And it also becomes obvious that the homes weren't designed for land dwellers... Featuring no real windows persay, or even ground-level doorways. Instead each just having a perfectly round hole in their side, a few meters up. As if an inhabitant had to swim up and in when there was still water here... But these buildings aren't what you lot came for. Instead, your final destination looms over the rest of the city from its position at its middle... A large, black Pyramid-like structure, its sides seemingly eroded by the elements, but retaining its triangular shape. A street-like pathway cutting through the outskirts of the city, straight towards it.

As they enter the city the Aegyl's level of alertness becomes visibly higher. He looks around as they begin to move through down the road and even pauses once or twice to double check that there truly is no one else there. Deserted ruins, even as delapidated as this, are an eerie thing to past though. It's as if at any moment your waiting for a remnant spirit to make itself known. And it's much for that reason that the aegyl remains away from the strange buildings that they pass and that the air shimmers around him a little bit with magical energy.. like a spring wound too tightly.

Alba spares a glance at Kier as the male passes, ears laying back. Her daggers bounce restlessly in her hands as she slinks beside the group, moving from left side to right every few yards, eyes flicking over the fish, the structures, all of their surroundings with a deep and abiding mistrust. In sharp contrast to her nearly pleasant demeanor this entire way, with each step closer to the pyramid Alba seems to act more and more like a wary animal, expecting trouble from all sides and likely to lash out at the slightest provocation.

"It's quite rare to find an underwater culture like this," Ainsley remarks, "Where there's still evidence that they actually existed," motioning with the writing quill she's using to the conch buildings. She seems content to remain near Raziel, since he's fairly wary of their surroundings. Her eyes slowly scan over details, a corner of her mouth quirking when she notices the pyramid. The forbodding nature doesn't bother her so much as the contrast, "That looks very out-of-place down here," she tells them, "It might have underground paths. Or it might be fairly straight-forward. However, the interior is bound to be filled with water or plant life, because it has not been exposed to the desert heat directly. There may be fish in there, perhaps even a small ecosystem of monsters. There will be things in there I haven't seen yet."

"Try headin ter the coast," Celeste chimes in, helpfully. "Yer could get sacerficed ter a dark god by a rowdy buncha Selkies, 'em are ocean dwellin'. More'r less. Or yer could go swimmin' out inna ocean an' go fer a long dunk, maybe find them Mer? Mind you, 'em are rowdy bunch, too." She pauses, and purses her lips. "Or yer might just find a shark wi' big choppers." She shrugs, and falls silent once more, keeping her attention piqued on her surroundings and what's going on behind the group.

Lee, if anything, seems to become more and more at ease, not that he was particularly tense or the like before, as he becomes surrounded by structures. Not that he becomes oblivious, though, either; he's still actively aware, scanning his eyes to and fro, "Interesting suggestions, those, if I may say so. Still, the state of preservation here is no doubt attributed at least in part to it's isolation and being surrounded by untold miles of shifting sand. How long this place has stood here is beyond me to guess; I've a feeling our little scholar here is better equipped than I to hazard such a guess," he says, gesturing towards Ainsley, "Still, I'd not be surprised if this place has been landlocked since well before the Folly."

Kier simply rolls his eyes as he picks up his pace towards the temple, grumbling under his breath, "Citybred... first it's all the awe and grandeur, and it always ends with screaming and something large caving in..."

Session 4

That giant, black Pyramid looms overhead, silhouetted against the sun, blocking it out almost entirely and throwing the party in its oppressive shadow as they steadily approach it, walking through those quiet dusty streets of the long dead city. Once inhabited by strange fishmen who dwelled in sea shell shaped homes, but now devoid of life except for a strange, reddish algea that seems to thrive within the gloom of the Temple up ahead. Patches and tendrils of it- which to those with a keen, sensitive enough eye seem to almost glow in that same sinister crimson- creeping along the buildings on either side, as if slowly devouring their structure. And all is silent as well, except for whatever noise the party may make on their progress, and the eternal blowing of the wind. Quietly whistling through this exotic, eldritch urban decay, and throwing up the odd, tiny dust devil, harassing everyone with fine grit. But soon, the wide street that you all traverse on, nears its end. Tall, broken, and weathered black pillars seen up ahead, flanking the roadway, and leading towards the Pyramid's large, square entrance... Its doorway a large slab of stone, five meters high and nearly as broad. Strange glyphs and representations of scaley elder things carved across its entire outward surface, weathered but still largely legible.

Raziel quietly approaches the temple, his wings tucked in against his back, but tensly. As if the man is ready to leap into the air at a moment's notice. As they draw closer and the markings on the slab of stone can be made out he frowns a little bit before glancing towards those that journey with him. "I doubt it, but are any of you able to fathom the meaning of those?" He waits for a moment so that an answer can come before strolling closer to peer up at the stone without reaching out to touch it, though he could do just that at that short of a distance.

Alba's knives are out and bouncing restlessly in her hands, the blades seething with toxic, poisonous energies. Glancing about them, at the obelisks, the roadway, and finally the glyph-scrawled door, the Viera shakes her head. "I do not. But I do not need to read the words, to know that it is likely what lies within will be displeased by our intrusion."

Lee follows along, looking about at the 'scenery' as the group makes it's way down the thoroughfare, seeming unbothered by the bleak loneliness, even creepiness, of the city. Once in the shadow of the pyramid, he doffs his hat, running gloved fingers through his shaggy hair; a flick of his hand, and the hat, like a coin in a slight-of-hand trick, vanishes, and he stops beside Raziel, squinting at the glyphs. With a shake of his head, "Sorry, those're a fair bit over my head, guv'nor. I'd wager the lady right, though; I'd be no end of surprised if we were to be welcome within."

Kier stops at the end of the group, his bow in one hand, the other reaching up to scratch under Dust's chin as he looks back and forth as well, the little one's ears going flat, and with a small growl, the young feline slinks back into his partner's hood, tail flicking out in an irritated fashion. There's a deep sigh that comes from the man, and then he just says, "That door is there for a reason. To keep us out, and to keep something dire in. You do not walk into a Coeurl den, you set fire to it, and shoot the Coeurl as they run out."

That door just silently looms there, stoically barring entrance. And looking very solid at that, giving a sense of thickness. A solid slab of dense stone that serves as a gate to whatever mysterious and sinister wonders that lie within. But luckily, it doesn't seem like it requires any esoteric, magical means to gain entry. Not even a blood sacrifice. As to the right of it, a large, thick chain descends down from a protruding, stone monster fish mouth. Its iron corroded and covered in a fine layer of that red algea, but still looking solid enough- its links intact- to operate whatever mechanism it leads down to. Which happens to be some sort of stone wheel. Making for a large, heavy pulley system.

Raziel looks at Kier and then he exhales, "then everyone should prepair... Those who must get close are best to draw the chain if anything runs out while those of us who must stay away are better served watching your backs." He looks to Lee and Alba, having become familiar with their fighting styles during the journey. "Do you not agree?" He takes a few steps back to pause near Kier and allows his eyes to run over the large block enterance before blowing out a breath and frowning to himself a little more.

Alba glances over her shoulder, eyebrows rising. "Wisdom has not been a close companion for us throughout the whole of this journey. Why, then, would it wish to pay visit now?" Wrinkling her nose, she turns to Raziel, nodding her agreement and moving up to take hold of the chain.

Lee looks back at Kier and grins, nodding in agreement with Alba, "We could only hope it'll be that easy, anyway. Wouldn't that be a laugh!" Returning his attention to Raziel, he nods, taking a moment to pull off his cloak and stuff it into his pack before following Alba to the chain, giving his gloves a tug to seat them properly and taking hold of the chain alongside her, "Sounds a sensible enough plan t'me." To Alba, he says, "Ready at y'signal, ma'am."

"Fine..." Kier grumbles as he moves slightly one side, shifting to the end of the chain where Alba will be pulling, preparing to fire should it open, and he continues on, "Now she picks the moment to spawn a sense of humor." In preparation just in case, he reaches back behind him and opens the large pouch across the small of his back, and fishing Dust out, the small feline form is safely locked away under a buckle to keep him safe. Finally set, the arrow in the bow is drawn, "Ready."

As Alba and Lee start to pull on that chain- the algea luckily having no obvious detrimental effects on bare skin- It doesn't seem to want to budge at first... But then, after a couple of long, strenuous seconds, it quietly starts to groan and squeak... Before with a sudden grinding jolt, it comes free. The chain rattling as it's reeled in... And that dark slab of stone blocking the entrance slowly starting to open, ascending. A rush of ancient air, filled with dust and grit and the foul smell of rotting fish escaping from the gap at the bottom.

Raziel's hand rises to cover his mouth and nose while he scowls. Reaching down he takes one of the longer ends of his robe (around the neck area) and wraps it around his head , covering nose and mouth. With the makeshift scarf in place he summons up a orb of fire, the tip of his hair extinguishing notably, and he sends it towards the enterance to light the way while slowly starting to follow along as if waiting for something

"Faugh!" Dropping the chain, Alba spits into the dust, pulling her traveling veil up over her nose. "...'Ware," she says to Raziel. "Fish oil burns. Cobwebs burn. Stone may not, but small comfort it would be to us that the place yet stands." Glancing back at the others, she draws her knives from their sheaths, carefully stepping through the doorway, keeping within the border of Raziel's light.

Lee grimaces as the foul air passes, coughing a little at the thick stench and burying his mouth and nose in his elbow, breathing through his sleeve for a moment. After a few breaths, he lowers his arm, and, still grimacing, takes a few deep breaths as he follows behind and a few paces to one side of Alba, his crimson eyes taking on a faint glow in the gloom, "With a stench this thick, we might find ourselves short of breath within, as well. May be worth going slow at first to let fresh, and more importantly breathable, air filter in ahead of us."

Kier brings up his scarf almost immediately when the door opens, lowering the bow and keeping the arrow nocked. His other hand pats on the pack behind him to check the young one. Turning his head, eyes water up, and then he moves off to one side, and away from the view of the others he coughs up a bit of what had been had before. Coming back out, he's dabbing at his lips with a cloth and says in a slightly more pained voice, "Great Spirits..."

Celeste jumps down from where she'd been keeping watch, and struts enthusiastically towards the door. "Oh, great!" she declares. "Yer all got 'er open, at last! Took yer long 'nuff. So now it's time ter go--" She skids to a halt, and wheels her arms in the air to keep her balance, and takes a rapid two steps back. "Hades' Mercy that bloody damn stinks like summin'... like a lot'a summin's done died in there! Augh! That's horrible!" She pauses, and glances to her left, then to her right. "Yer go first," she mutters, gesturing towards Raziel.

As Raziel conjures up that orb, and sends it inside, it briefly illuminates the start of an algea covered stone tunnel, which abruptly leads into darkness. But then, something odd happens... As the fire's light seems to get absorbed by that red algea covering the walls, the gooey substance softly starting to glow an eery crimson, which might be even creepier than any normal, every day lack of light. And as such, that entire tunnel gradually lights up, showing it to be atleast fifty meters long, ending up at a large chamber which in turn stays obscured in gloom. As people start to move in then, that smell lingers some... Though not as bad as that initial rush of escaping air. Just a faint scent of decay, mixed with the slight oppressiveness of ancient dust.

Raziel nods in responce to Alba's words before he begins to approach closer. "I know, but it is easier to control than torch li-" His voice cuts off and he frowns as the orb is absorbed before the hall begins to glow. "Well..." He glances at Kier and then Lee before looking to Celeste, "that would be a mistake. I will not be able to fly out of danger in here.. it is better that I remain within the party or towards the back of it."

Alba peers at the algae, lips thinning as she examines the slimy substance. "...It feeds upon magics," she mutters sourly. Shaking her head, she bounces the knives in her hands, eyes and ears restless as they search for signs of immediate dire peril. "To the center," she says over her shoulder at Raziel. "The four of us will better be able to defend you at need, thus."

Lee quirks a brow as the algae snuffs Raziel's fire-light and starts to glow, "Well, tha's just damn strange, innit? Rather like the color, though, m'self..." He looks to Alba, then to the rest of the group, "Magics, eh? Hmm..." Looking down to the far end of the tunnel, he rolls his shoulders, "Onwards, then? Looks like light won't be as much an issue as first thought... Large chambers might pose problem, though, dependin'."

Kier rather silently makes his way over to where he can pick up a length of bone from the desert and then a cloth from his bag. Wrapping it, the next comes some oil poured over it and soaked in. The last step is it being lit with a spark and then passed over towards Lee, as he says, "Walk in the rear... so we are not blinded." Taking a couple arrows from his quiver, he taps them onto the fire and launches them into the pyramid to get a bit more light and perspective.

Celeste glances back and forth at everyone else, and plants a hand on her hip. "So... who's really goin' first?" She pushes the hood of her white travelling robe, by now stained the color of sand mixed with blood, down across her back. "Err... yeah, right." She looks towards Alba, and shrugs. "That'a be me." She pulls her spear off her back, and thumps her off-hand against the haft. She spins the weapon in the air and brings it to rest on her shoulder, as she turns around and starts into the doorway. "No point standin' on'a cerem'ny, lez' just get'er done. ...I'mma be washin' this stench outta me fur fer a week."

The algea might not just react to magic, but also simple light, as the fire from Kier's arrows dimishes slightly after they've been shot in and land, and the nearby algea ever so minutely brightens. That algea also seems to absorb or muffle sound to a degree as well, as everyone's footsteps and voices fail to echo or sound nearly as hollow as perhaps expected, making the atmosphere even more oppressive. But luckily, that feeling just seems to apply to that tunnel... As once the first person reaches the chamber at the end, its sheer spaciousness becomes apparent, complete with a proper echo.

The opposite end of the hall barely glimpsed, and the ceiling hidden behind darkness that seems to stretch forever up above, perhaps creating a brief sense of vertigo if one looks up too long. Giant pillars- some partially covered in that algea, and same with the nearby walls- evenly spaced across the entire breadth of the area. And it seems this chamber was reserved of mass rituals of some sort. A large, stone dais visible at the exact center, flanked by six meter high statues on both sides, depicting hunched, scaled, horrible looking fishmen holding their webbed claws aloft, and with bulbous eyes of green crystal shining malovently, staring up ahead.

Alba follows closely behind Celeste, her eyes and ears covering her cousin's blind spots, knives resting easily in her hand. More and more, as the light-stealing gloom of the temple's interior closes around them, does she begin to resemble a Fiend in mannerisms; shoulders hunched, back bent low, gait long and loping, restlessly attempting to watch every point around the party at once. "Remind me, Cousin," she mutters, as the dais comes into view, "to thank our Captain for sending us upon this task. I wish to thank him right in his spleen."

Lee follows along with the torch, at the rear, though staying attentive to what is to the side and behind as the group gets further and further from the light of the entrance. Once in the chamber, and with a look at the massive statuary, he gives a low, faint whistle through his teeth, keeping his voice low for reasons that escape even him, "Much as I admire, nay, even agree with, th' sentiment, I'd be much obliged if th' more enthusiastic measures of y'thanks t'him be kept in ready reserve for -after- said cap'n returns us home, eh? I'd rather not foresake m'ride out of here, no matter how satisfyin' th' show of our collective appreciation might be." Looking around the large room, as far as light permits (be it torch or algae-born), he then asks, "So, any idea where we go from 'ere? Hell, remind me again what we're lookin' for?"

Kier moves along behind the women, looking over his shoulder but not quite at Lee before saying, "Fish people. Fish. Fish. Fish. In the middle of the sandseas, and all I can smell is fish. A more twisted mind, might there also be undead fish... or perhaps demonic fish." His tone becoming more irritated as he moves along, and gets to the spot where he can retrieve his arrows where the oil-slick had burned off. Settling them back into his quiver, he holds up his arm, and sniffs it, "Now... I smell of fish."

"Yer know, I hope so. I wan' ter fight undead fish. Shank 'em right inna... inna fishy-bits." Celeste keeps her attention forwards, not even turning her head to talk as she walks. "Yeah, Alba, I'mma 'mind you. An' Lee, dun worry; she meant our Cap'n, not the feller what brought us here. An' we're all playin' hide'n seek w'some manky old skull what's prob'ly got some hoary funk 'bout it like 'rest'r this place."

If one explores the chamber some more, going past the creepy dais and statues, and towards the other end, one might encounter a large doorway that is much like the one the group just exited, and leads into a similar tunnel as before- though with less algea, and with some other, smaller doorways visibly branching off into various directions. Indicating it might lead towards the back area of the temple, and perhaps the living quarters of whatever inscrutable fishman priests served this place, and whatever dark gods those statues represent. And where danger was previously simply implied by the atmosphere of the place, a certain gristly find should make it an obvious fact... As near that entrance, the long dead body of a humanoid lies sprawled.

Dessicated and skeletal, though with dried, almost mumified flesh still present- partially covered in creeping algea. The corpse- a male- wearing the tattered robes of a Sandsea bandit, as well as the remains of a leather belt with a rusty curved dagger still sheathed. His manner death apparent by the several short, black crossbow bolts visibly sticking from it at straight angles. A pair between its shoulder blades, and a final onme right in the center of the back of the head, as if he was finished off that way after the initial attack. And one might believe it to be a grave robber, who met some unseemely fate.

"It was a skull of *crystal,*" Alba replies, with a long-suffering sigh, as the corpse is discovered. "...Ah. Here we see why it is that we must be upon our guard." Approaching the body, she crouches, almost immediately tugging the crossbow bolt out of the skull to better examine it.

Lee ahhs and nods, "Your cap'n, right. Pardon m'misstep, then, that affair'll be no business o'mine. An' skull, right, got'cha. Crystal skull. Ol' creepy probably-possessed crystal skull. Likely what craves livin' flesh, mayhaps. Or devours souls. Wouldn't that be a trick, eh? Though, I s'pose there's worse things fr'a skull t' be..." He chuckles a bit at Kier's irritation, "Try not to let the smell bother ya, ol' son; if y'pay it no mind, you'll soon forget it's there. A person's nose is smart like that, starts t' ignore things that seem ever-present." Carrying the torce further in, he steps up beside Alba, casting more light on the body as Alba removes the bolt, "On our guard, that I won't argue... Doesn't seem to me this fellah came across a trap, though, unless that bolt to the skull was a lucky shot. Mayhap 'e was runnin' from somethin', or more likely someone. Maybe even several someones, given the number o'bolts; this has th'look of finely done double-cross, to me, at least from first glance."

Kier just sighs, and looks to the others, then over to the body, looking up from where it fell, and starts to try and trace where the bolts might have come from if it was a trap, at the same time taking up a bolt and feeling the quality of the weapon itself to try and determine what it was made from, "We are a temple no one has seen in the age of the Spirits, reeking of things that died around that time, and looking for something that will undoubtedly try to kill us, possess us, or otherwise make this less than pleasant." Taking another breath, he just adds, "A betrayal is the least of our concerns."

Celeste stands guard, and keeps an eye on what's transpiring in the temple at large; or as it happens, not transpiring. She leaves the examination of the corpse up to the others. "Lookered ter me like whoever did for 'im really meant it," she observes, tilting her head just slightly to talk over her shoulder. "Crummy place ter die, really. Not blaze a'glory, no titanic battle... jus'... buncha arrows makin' yer look like some pin cushion an' that'a be that." She shrugs her shoulders, and shifts to hold her spear with both hands, on either side of her head. "Y'know, I'm not sure handin' some hoary crystal skull over ter feller what talks like I'mma figure some blob'a slime would, is a good idea. I'mma been thinkin'. Alba might tell yer all that's a first."

The bolts seem to be constructed out of somekind of metal, though not one that seems to be of common origin, such as iron. They also require some effort to pull out, inevitably tearing some of that dry flesh, as the stubby tips are covered in small, hook shaped serations... Still surprisingly sharp, even though the bolts are obviously somewhat old. And an even close study might reveal some tiny holes near the very tip...

Perhaps indicating these bolts were once poisoned. Either way, they don't really seem to be of simple human make, which would suggest the corpse was indead some poor, double crossed grave robber. Instead they carry that slight otherworldly quality like the rest of this place, hinting that the danger was something... Native. Something alive, and with terribly accurate aim, who didn't appreciate the attempt to pilfer this place of whatever treasures it contains. And might not appreciate it even now.

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