Kaustir, Chapter 2

[Tone 6th]

Takeda was surprised at the Generals choice of punishment unconventional but effective. He could not help but laugh at the guard for a brief moment. The General invited him to be her right hand and of course he would accept, however there was one more lesson to be learned before they left. Takeda walked over to one of the food stalls and purchased two lizards on a stick and then returned to the General. "Lesson two: Cherish the body and it will reward you." he offered Amalia the lizard and she eagerly accepted it. "Never go a day with out missing a meal, to do so is to betray your own body." he had a faint smile on his face. "I assume you did not have an appetite this morning after last nights heavy drinking, but you must eat. Lizard is bland and easy on the stomach, so please eat." he explained while digging into his own. "CAW!" Shibu screeched. The hawk dove down from the sky above and softly landed on Takeda's shoulder. "Good morning Shibu how are the skies today?" Takeda had a playful tone to his voice. The bird nuzzled him for a brief moment as if returning his greeting, then eyed the lizard he held "Ah hungry are we?" Takeda tore off a piece and fed it to the bird. "If you'll excuse me ma'am I'm going to speak with the others." he bowed. "Oh and of course I will be by your side." he flashed another faint smile.

Takeda walked over the solider who showed up "Hello Rakar, how long have you been in the service? I haven't seen you at the barracks." talking sternly, he was testing how easy intimated the solider was.

 

[Asmodeus]

After three hours - a time in which Draegal near convinced himself the summer palace was empty - the gold and white patterned doors of the inner chambers burst.

From gentle silence to violent life. The Czar approached, hands slick with blood, silk robes spattered with offal fragments. He moved with buoyancy, a cheerful butcher. "Ah, the Desert Monk. Has it been a year already?" He crossed to a table where a deep bowl waited. With eyes on Draegal he plunged his hands in and began to wash. "You are younger than others of your order. Dead now, I suppose. I hear old men are prone to it. You have only your loose sphincter to remember them by."

The bowl slopped over with blood-dark water. Lukesh took a towel and dried his hands while eying the bottle of Kresnik the monk had brought. "You studied the Stepridge War, yes? Two thousand and eighty nine men killed, fighting for control of the desert monasteries. I remember that number. I hadn't even tasted Kresnik before I ordered the offensive. But if the Blackspear Clan wanted what the monks were brewing, it was enough to bring me to the table."

He pulled back his robe and unbuckled a belt. It was strung with holsters of all sizes, where tools glistened with bloody fingerprints. Systematically, the Czar removed each blade, needle and bone saw for cleaning. "And then I tasted it. And oh... what a fool I had been. Two thousand men were not enough. We should have killed millions. Such is the price of a loosened tongue."

Through the doorway behind him, a woman's naked leg could be seen, splayed at an odd angle on the floor. The rest of the blood was pooled there. Draegal leaned forward for a better look and in that moment the Czar approached and snatched the bottle from him. Lukesh examined it in the light, with his other hand holding a towel-wrapped claw hammer. "Korsch told me once that the monks add the tears of Avian virgins to the brew. That's what makes it a truth serum." He took the bottle to the table and smashed the neck apart with the hammer. Then he poured - a shot glass for each of them. "Let it never be said a holy man cannot sell a pretty lie."

The hammer was tossed down with the other implements.

"Walk with me."

Dragal rose and crossed at an angle to the inner doorway. The Czar was by the balcony, holding out the shot glass. Draegal did not turn his head, yet in his periphery caught glimpses of the inner chamber, where pieces of the woman lay. The floor was like the wash-bowl, shadowed red. And there was something else in there - other parts that were not human. He did not turn his head. Taking the glass from the Czar, Draegal followed him out onto the marble balcony. A courtyard, dusty and high-walled, preceded the morning vista of Avarath. The view looked out to the east gate, where camels were being loaded for the General's expedition.

"If only truth were enough in this world, dear monk." Lukesh leaned on the balustrade. "The ignorant must be lied to. Appearances must be kept." He turned and clinked his glass to Draegal's, looking him square in the eye. "Messages must be sent."

There was a squeak from below. On a small cart something was wheeled out from the palace by a quartet of soldiers. And it was smelled before it was seen. The horse was splinted and fixed by rivets to the cart planks. With slow heaving the guards conveyed it to the courtyard's outer wall, and up a stone incline that would take them to the palace battlements. As they moved it into place Draegal saw the branding on its flanks.

HERE STANDS DELESIA. SHE WAS TURNED INTO A CENTAUR​

The horse's head was not its own.

Draegal beheld the rest of the woman, and as the Czar knocked back his drink it remained to be seen if the monk could swallow his own.

 

[Zen]

She devoured the lizard with gusto, not caring when a trail of grease ran down her mouth. Amalia wiped it away with the back of her hand, smiling at Takeda. It was rare to find a soul in Kaustir that was so... Considerate. It was refreshing, although the woman had to wonder why she was given such a kind person. She expected the Czar to give her someone cruel, to mold her into the same person he was.

A new voice caught the general's attention and she turned to see their guide, a lizard leg protruding from her lips. Amalia spat it out, wiped her mouth once more, and smiled politely at Nils.

"There you are." She gestured towards a camel. "Hop on. I think we're running late but we'll make it out on time."

 

[UltimaCircuit]

K'Jol shrugged off the look he received from the Rakar, thinking nothing of it. A voice from his left triggered him to look over and he saw a new face that he had never seen before. The man looked like a Nocturne and was wearing a hood. The Draken looked at him blankly as the Nocturne examined the general in a rather awkward manner. In the distance he saw Takeda returning with two lizards, one he gave to Amalia who devoured it as if she had not been fed in days. A scornful look came upon his face as he watched the situation. He understood the fact that Takeda was also going to teach Amalia the basics of combat but he did not understand why he was so intimate with her. He looked away before murmuring to himself. 'An instructor should always be harsh, blunt, and teach their student the hard way... that's how I learned...'

K'Jol clenched his fist at the thought of his own old instructor. Whippings upon his back were hidden underneath the suit of armor that he always kept upon his body. The Draken would never forget how each day was like a punishment. He snapped back into reality, shaking his head of his current thoughts.

He looked back forward as Amalia asked for the Nocturne to show the way out. A sigh left his lips. It was becoming harder and harder to focus on the goal of the expedition with Amalia around, and he knew that almost all of those around detested him. His eyes scanned over the others. Takeda had shown that he detested him before in the palace gardens. Rakar had given him a look of dissatisfaction after the pat on the back. Amalia probably wanted to kill him after the whole incident before the games. He had never had a true friend besides U'Sil.

"Like he said.. one must always look out for himself..."

 

[Dunruffle]

"As you wish General, we will make haste to Dorograd. I have a contact there who might be able to assist us in our expedition." Turning away from her before he could be dismissed Nils surprisingly walked over to K'jol and nodded. "It is good to see you K'jol, out of all the people here you are probably going to be the most helpful when it comes to fighting the monsters of the wastes." Nils spoke in a flat tone and not conspiratorially. He was honest to a fault and did not hold any reservations when it came to speaking his mind. Out in the wastes you survived by clearly communicating with others, anything less and you would quickly find yourself as the next meal of the sands. Turning away from K'jol, Nils mounted his camel and looked over at the group. "For those of you who do not know me I am Nils Maupin, I am a veteren Ipari guard of Dorograd. I have been assigned to this expedition by Czar Lukesh himself to provide assistance and directions. I will be honest with you, the wasteland is not like the regular desert. It quickly weeds out the weak both of mind and body, the air itself is poison and only the toughest make it into adulthood. Not to mention the various bloodthirsty beasts that roam the area...I am not one for lying and half-truths, many of you will die on this trip and I do not guarantee it will be a swift or painless death. But I personally would rather die in the wastes than return empty handed to face the Czar's wrath." "Now general, muster your forces when ready. We must leave as soon as possible."

 

[Kriodine]

Draegal stared upon the creation, it wasn't the worst thing he had seen. He quickly downed the Kresnik and stared out into space. "No it hasn't quite been a year yet, the stuff you're thinking of is still brewing back in Zirako. I just thought I'd bring you a real drink, I heard that the drinks out here are as soft as the merchants." He chuckled at his own joke, and out of the corner of his eye he could have sworn he saw a smile grace the Czars lips. "And there might be a few old ones out in the desert, but as far as I'm aware I am the last Desert Fountain, and when I die, the last group in Kaustir to be linked to the gods will be no more. But do not worry my friend before I die I shall personally give you the secrets of my order."

Draegal knew that his order only stayed around during the Czars rule because they could brew a truth serum. It wasn't the only secret his order held, but he knew it was the only one Lukesh truly wanted. Draegal looked at what remained of his drink, and he wondered how Lukesh would react once he learned the secrets of his order. He raised his glass to the sun "May Kaustir prosper under your reign my Czar, and may your drink be ever flowing" he then took a big swig and then looked at Lukesh and said "Thank you for having me, it is always an interesting experience my friend, but I have achieved what I came here for, is there anything you need before I go. No? Then until next time Czar."

As he left the palace he decided it was time he went and experienced the city.

 

[unanun]

Zirako, brown

"Okeah, cyut him ohpen."

"Are we safe?"

"Weey're behyind obsidian gle-ass. It's fine."

"I mean, are they safe?"

"The fyirefoxez are ready."

Cutting sounds

"This person was found a day or so ago. We guess that he had already been infected for a week."

"..."

"What is that?"

The chest cavity of the cadaver is laid open.

"He is myelted on the inside ..."

"Black spots."

"Yeaz."

The black spots mushroom, and began to pulse.

"What's going on? He's sporing! FIREFOXES!"

Avarath, brown

Lut placed the dagger down and sighed. Scratching letters into soft skin was dexterous work, even if the skin was stretched on a sewing circle. He rolled up the letter and handed it to a masked member of his unit, who left the office behind him.

As it turned out, finding a troll was hard, especially if they did not want to be found. Lut had crawled a fair portion of the city, and people were beginning to wonder why he seemed to ignore animate objects and only peered closely at statues. Finding Nae was worse than squeezing water from the sand - ironic, considering the troll's responsibilities.

His steps led him to the apothecary and alchemical district. If Nae was going to be around, he would be here as an ornament, or drawling, slowly drawling, with anyone who had knowledge of poisons.

He pondered over his exchange with the Czar last night, after hearing the same answer to his question. He could nearly recite it by now. And he gave the same rebuttal, with somewhat increasing severity each time.

"... we were born in violent times, but our people are not. If you live for the people, then your methods must change. Avarath will not respond to how we handled the ..."

The faintest stench - the smell that never failed to rile him - of rotting blood tickled his nose. Lut glanced in the direction of the palace and clenched his fists. Not again.

 

[Kino]

Takeda had caught Rakar somewhat off guard, having had his mind elsewhere when he was spoken too. However, he was quick to respond. Or rather, his Aux Coros was. Yet again, Coros spoke in place of Rakar.
"We have been serving in the military for over 5 years now, not including the first years of training. Born and raised in Zirako, we have only been in Avarath for just over a month now due to transfer orders, as many soldiers were. Perhaps you have not seen us due to Rakar being ordered to menial tasks since arriving here. His superior was fond of making him clean the latrines simply because he felt intimidated by Rakar's appearance..."

Rakar's expression grew irritant at the mention of his treatment since arriving in this city. This was quickly followed by a comment from Rakar himself, revealing his voice to be rather deep and booming.

"It seems that higher rank does not always translate into higher discipline or even intelligence. In a world where respect is earned, I would have hoped that my superior would have behaved as he was supposed to."

His gaze was stern and he did not seem at all intimidated. On the contrary, it may have been obvious that he was glad to get that small rant off of his chest. At the same time, he hoped that the message hidden within it was clear.

Afterwards, his attention was taken by the man who called himself Nils. After the speech, he felt determined to make himself into a key member of this mission. He was tired of being treated like he was second rate. His orders were to protect the General, and he was going to make sure that no enemy would get between him and her. Not a scratch.

 

[lillith.mg]

Tharwa

Hundreds of translucent bottles lined the shelves, each of them labeled meticulously, and housing its own strange content. Urine, blood, semen, fingernail clippings, the occasional severed appendage decaying to the bone… it was a themed macabre collection harvested with some purpose in mind.

Tharwa uncorked an empty bottle, placed a few silky strands of hair inside and stacked it next to one with an eyeball floating in briny liquid. She was in the process of tagging her newest acquisition when a decisive knock sounded on her door.

She cracked the door open, and the man on the other side was as familiar as he was unwelcome. Tharwa delivered a quick jab to his face, middle and fore finger stiff and forked. Had her guest been slower, she would've gouged his eyes out. But he was lightning quick, and her attack was deflected harmlessly into empty air.

"Well, that's one way to greet an old friend. Hullo, little viper." He leaned his lanky body on the doorframe, face split in a lazy grin. "You know, it's only polite to invite guests in, especially when said guest is freezing his balls out here in the cold desert night."

Tharwa made a rude sound at the back of her throat. "Last time you were here, I lost two dune-leopard skulls. If you think I would invite you and your sticky fingers inside my house, the cold must've frozen more important things other than your balls, Carter Bracht."

"Och, you wound me." Carter clutched his chest in mock pain, and Tharwa suppressed a snicker. The cad was entirely too charming to stay mad at. "I solemnly promise not filch anything from your house. Street Rat's honor." He made a cross with both arms, the sign of the rag-tag alley gang they used to run with as children.

"A Street Rat's honor is worth a fart." Tharwa retorted, but nodded to let Carter in. The thief crossed the room and seated himself comfortably in one of the rickety table chairs. He eyed Tharwa's dinner and raised an inquiring eyebrow. Fresh fruit and cheese - pretty hard to come by in Kaustir, and not your standard commoner's fare. Tharwa shrugged. "Eh, I earned some coin from betting at the games. Help yourself."

Carter eyed the food suspiciously. "What's in it?"

Tharwa's smile was about as charming as a jackal's. "Nothing that would harm you. Street Rat's honor." She crossed her forearms.

"Worth a fart." Carter mumbled, staring at the shelved bottles, deep in thought. "As much as I would like this to be a social call, I came here to offer a business proposition that might interest you. You have heard of the recent news about a divine weapon?"

"Who hasn't? I was there when Lut Sar announced it to all and sundry. The new General's already on a quest to procure it. The only a question left to ask is, when would it fall into the Czar's hands?"

Carter's propped his feet up the table, and rested the back of his head on linked hands. "Wrong. The right question to ask is, would the new General even find… it?"

Something sparked in Tharwa's expression, her cheeks appeared leaner and her face took on a feral hunger. Not a hunger for food, but a hunger for something bigger, borne out of surviving tooth and claw in Avaranth's mean streets. Carter recognized it, as it was similar to his own. Beneath their flesh and bones, street rats that grow up and escape the dirty alleys are hard. Hard as diamonds.

"Tell me more."

 

[heliacalRebirth]

Seiyr

[dash=red]
It was just past the palace gates that the caravan waited. A small assembly of people stood conversing, among them the General. She gave Arania an assuring nod. Guards parted, gates creaked and heads turned. K'Jol eyed the healer, but Seiyr's gaze held the General's herself.

In one fluid motion, the engineer bent down and grabbed a handful of sand. Placing the fist over her heart, she showed her reverence in the form of an old Kaustiri oath, "Until the Deep Sands take me shall I serve," She let the sand blow in the wind before speaking, "It's a pleasure to see you again, Amalia. I suppose now you're on as many people's hit lists as I am, eh?"

Seiyr walked over to Amalia and Takeda, smiling at the former and nodding at the latter.


"This is Arania, she's going to be joining us." the engineer explained. "I figured we'd need a reliable healer, since the only good one we have is a bit busy."

Turning, she walked toward the palace, calling over her shoulder, "I'll be back in more suitable clothes. Say your hellos, don't miss me too much."

<><><><><>

​

"WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE!" Seiyr exclaimed, sighing exasperatedly. Arina looked down, the teleportation device in her hands. The bedchamber was cleaner than it had been in moons, and the culprit was sitting on the edge of the engineer's bed, between two stacks of blueprints and notes.

"I'm almost positive you won't get stuck in a door or something. There's nothing to be scared about. You survived Nassad, this is nothing."

"I want to come with you."

"You'll die. You're insane."

"You saved my life, miss."

"And you want to throw that away. I can still have you wash silks for the Czar."

"If you will it."

"No, I don't will it. I want you to go to the damn Capital so you can get out of my room."

"I don't want a job, ma'am. I want to serve you."

"Nobody serves me. People work for me."

"Then let me work for you."

Seiyr scowled, studying the thin female. Her scorpion tattoo slithered across her neck, Aux nervously settling on Crux's heart.

"You better pack up fast. We will leave without you."[/dash]

 

[Asmodeus]

Ambience

​

As camels were mounted and steered from the city, they were poor cousins to the weirder steeds. Elephants built with tiger limbs, splayed on padded feet, took Drakens into flanking positions. And at the rearguard, cumbersome oxen were driven by herders, their tan-haired bodies fat with milk. Faster scouts cut figure-eights around the convoy on sand leopards and riding geckos. It was a menagerie that set out under General Amalia. For the first lesson learned in Sunne is that no one species can survive alone.

What Nils led the convoy into was a burning horizon. Those of Viridos and Pegulis would see only sand - a stretch of killing detritus. But to the convoy there were contours and colours. To the northeast, hillocks formed by splash weathering, where ancient rain struck hot rocks and caused them to shatter. The debris informed the cliffsides further east, where surfaces were polished into swiss-cheese alcoves by the dust-storms. Atop this a plateau of smooth mosaic zones heading north for the Pegulis mountains.

Dead ahead, the great salt pans, where heaps of white powder formed an ever-shifting landscape. This had once been a river bed, fed by the Prosperos before it receded. Now it was an evaporated sea, giving Avarath its easiest export. Then further south, a forest of spikes, no higher than the kneecap, revealed but the tip of massive root systems that stretched deep underground. The Cutiver Roses bloomed for two weeks a year before dwindling to these wiry spines. Many a heretic had been put to death upon that bed of nails.

South east, along the coastline of the Prosperos, small oases were fed with canals. Around them more savage forestry, as each region was planted with Kresnik cacti. This brief patch of green bid them farewell as they departed Avarath. They would not be seeing such lushness again for days. Instead they plunged across the blues and purples of lichen-smothered rocks. By their mapping the convoy could read the path of rainfall and the points of springwater.

To others, a wasteland. To Kaustirans, a mosaic.

The expedition was underway.

Dorgrad

One hundred miles away, a name was shouted.

"Comrade Maladas!"

Theo paused after tipping another cart of slag waste into the magma river. The bovine anima wiped his brow and peered along the gantry to see a foreman approaching. Henvit, a Draken official from Chamber 15. Something important must have taken that little snake from his usual territory.

"You're the Minotaur, yes?"

Theo met the foreman on the rock bridge. Steam hissed between them, thrown up from the magma bubbling below. "Comrade Theo of Anima Barracks Fourteen-C."

Henvit blinked his cobra eyes and waved a dismissive claw. "Yes yes, but you are the assigned Minotaur for this section?"

Theo nodded and hid his distaste. Those in Dorgrad who could discern true north were referred to as Minotaurs. It was a tradition of centuries, rooted in old folklore of mythical beasts who could solve labyrinths. Most barracks of the mining sector had at least one individual with geo-navigation powers. The comparison was just a little close to home in Theo's case.

The foreman made a note in his Aux, a small black notebook where his immediate thoughts were splashed in ethereal ink. "Good. You've been reassigned. Orders from the Commissariat. You're now 6th Level, Minotaur Adjunct for Chamber 15. Your bunk number is fifty-seven." No mention of moving possessions from one dorm to another. Dorgrad miners were not permitted such things.

"Yes, Sir," Theo said to the four-foot Draken. "Will I be assisting the other Minotaur?"

Henvit hissed. "No. There was an accident in the tunnels. He died."

The notebook displayed a brief image, inked and raggedy. It was the picture of a bloated, discoloured face. Henvit snapped the book shut. "We have production hours to meet. Get moving. You'll assist your comrades in Tunnel D."

The foreman scurried onwards and left Theo on the gantry.

And in the distance, through the dense haze of steam, a pair of miners on another outcrop deposited a white-wrapped body into the lava.

 

[Zen]

The Lortiks were a wealthy enough family that Amalia was able to travel the sands of Kaustir in the comfort of caravans, away from the glare of the sun and the sand that often battered the eyes of any living creature. It was due to this comfort that made Amalia's first day on the desert so uncomfortable. Without the protection of her shawl, her neck was scorched from the blazing sun, which was saved by a compassionate servant who gave her another shawl for protection. Unfortunately the damage was done; a sunburn as red as the Kesnik flower encompassed Amalia's entire neck. And while her shawl offered her protection that didn't stop the discomfort of saddle sores, or the sweat that accumulated underneath her bottom, or the itchiness that ensued when the sweat began to evaporate.

Amalia did not complain once, but it was hard for the others to miss their General reaching back and scratching her ass. Some of the servants offered to give her a ride in their caravans, but she refused. She knew how it would look if she were to take a break from the exhausting ride.

Look at their general, too weak to ride on top of a camel, so she must seek the comfort of a caravan. How pathetic.

So when the expedition stopped in the evening to lap up springwater from an oasis and set up camp, Amalia was exhilarated. Forget looking prim and strong, she leaped from the saddle, tripped over the reigns of her camel and dove into the water. With the water only two feet deep, Amalia was just barely able to submerge her entire body in the water. Some of the other soldiers and servants - perhaps taking her cue - had done the same, and many of the men stripped down to bathe. She was perfectly content to be clothed.

Amalia Lortik lay there with her back on the water, stargazing. Like the lichen surrounding the rocks, gaseous clouds of purple and blue lay in the night sky spattered with red, yellow, and orange stars. Their night sky was a rainbow against a backdrop of black.

The sound of metal clanging and soldiers grunting brought Amalia back from her daydreaming. Now would be the perfect time for her training to be underway and she wasn't looking forward to it.

 

[Kriodine]

Draegal downed the pitiful Lotus Fire that he had been served, and tried not to gag at the taste. After he left the palace he realized that he was out of alcohol, and there was no way he could leave for Zirako without any decent "souvenirs". Unfortunately for him none of the fourteen taverns he had visited so far, sold anything that didn't taste like watered down piss. As he left to go try another tavern, he accidentally ran straight into somebody. It was Lut Sar, and he looked vivid. He looked as if he needed a strong drink to help him forget his worries.

"My apologies Lieutenant , I wasn't paying attention to where I was walking. Let me make it up to you by buying you a drink."

Before the Lieutenant could even respond Draegal was already herding him into what appeared to be a worn down hole in the wall. The place was empty save for an old avian bartender, who emitted an aura of relaxation. The two seated themselves at the bar "Barkeep two Lotus Fire's please." The barkeep quickly served the two their drinks. A Lotus Fire is a maroon shaded liquid often served with a edible lotus floating on top of it. The drink was often used to celebrate peaceful negotiations for two reasons, it's inability to be poisoned, and it's ability to loosen up and relax the drinker. As Draegal downed his he looked over at Lut and said "Drink my friend, it will make you feel better. "

 

[Tone 6th]

The all to familiar heat of the arid desert clung to Takeda like a weight. Traveling the desert brought him back to the days of his training for the imperial guard. He and the other trainees were forced to spend every other week in the unforgiving desert making them figure out how to survive. Even though there were only sent a mile out the desert did not care, many died and only few survived. His time in the desert gave a basic knowledge of how to survive, but nothing more. Takeda kept looking over his shoulder to Amalia, who was lagging behind a bit, and tortured she looked..... good. She needed to experience the harsh reality of being a general and what better way then in the sandy jaws of the desert. "Come on keep up!" Takeda yelled back at her. Amalia wearily nodded and slowly caught up.

Night fell as they reached a fresh water spring. The General nearly killed herself as she scrambled to the cool waters. Takeda took of his armor and placed it on his camel to let it air out. He got a drinking pouch and filled it away from the rest of the group "Ugh don't contaminate the water you idiots." he mumbled quietly. He took a medium sized bowl from his knapsack and filled it with water, stripped down behind one of the palm trees, and ran the cool water over his body using a little at a time. "Ah much better. Praise the desert sun for this gift." he chuckled and clothed himself. Takeda let half an hour pass before it was time, time he used to sharpen his blades "Miss Lortiks It's time to begin!" He called and motioned for her to get out of the water. Amalia whined but eventually she climbed out of the pool. Takeda took her to the top on of the many dunes surrounding the oasis "Tonight will not be easy for you, I'll make sure of that, but you must stay strong." he placed an arm on her shoulder. "Now, let's start with 50 push up, and 50 sit ups." Takeda gently pushed her to the ground to get her started. Once she was finished Takeda loomed over her "Why do you wish to pursue being the General Amalia? What are you fighting for?" his words piercing. Takeda paused "20 more push ups, then we will move on." he ordered waiting for her response.

 

[UltimaCircuit]

K'Jol put a hand to his brow, shielding his eyes from the sun as the group tread deeper and deeper into the sands of the great desert. A loud groan came from the famed soldier as he looked around at the others, seeing how they were holding up. Everyone else in the congregation seemed to be holding up quite well except for Braten, who seemed very parch. He rolled his eyes before looking back towards his front, seeing the general scratching her ass. The action he had just witnessed caused him to grasp the reigns of his camel even harder.

"Such a weakling... will she ever learn how to become a true warrior?"

---

A grin came upon K'Jol's face as it was now time to set up camp. The group dismounted and unpacked their things by an oasis, which made his mouth slowly water. Since he was a Draken, being in the heat did not bother him that much but he still got the feeling of thirst. A laugh came from the famed soldier as he watched the clumsy general trip over her own reigns and fall into the water. After seeing the spectacle, he began to stretch from left to right before walking over to the water. A sneer was upon his face as he spoke to the general.

"If you wish to impress us, then you're going to have to do better than that."

K'Jol put his head closer to the small body of water and proceeded to swipe water from the oasis into his mouth. It had a rather salty taste, probably because of the sand and the other soldiers in the water but he did not care. 'You have to do whatever it takes to survive....' After relieving himself of thirst, the Draken walked a few feet away from the pool of water before unsheathing his halberd, dropping it onto the desert rocks beneath his feet. K'Jol looked over to Amalia and Takeda as they began training, and a sly grin came upon his face. He sat cross legged on the ground before resting his head on his hand, pretending to seem rather bored.

"What is the point of learning honor in fighting? If you want to condition your body well and finally gain strength rather than being a weakling, come and train with me!"

 

[Kino]

The first day of the expedition dragged on as the train of soldiers pressed through the desert. Rakar stayed close to Amalia's side, as ordered, though his protection went unneeded. Coros was circling overhead, keeping an eye out for anything out of the ordinary, but there was nothing to report. It was a rather boring day, though Rakar still preferred it over latrine duty. Better to be tasked with something meaningful and have nothing to show for it, than be tasked with cleaning shitters and have a lot to show for it.

----------------------------------------------------

After reaching the oasis, Rakar dismounted his camel and stretched. His ass was already sore from the long ride, but he made a point not to let it show. As he stretched, Amalia was already on her way to making a fool of herself as she scrambled for the water and submerged her body. He knew that humans did not fare as well in the dry heat as Draken did, but still, it seemed rather undignified. But then, several other soldiers joined in, suddenly making her seem less foolish, or perhaps making them all look foolish, he wasn't sure what to think. Regardless, it wasn't going to stop him from getting a well deserved drink as he walked over and knelt down by the water

The water felt wonderful going down, even though it tasted like ass. Coros flew down and perched on his shoulder as Rakar gave a long sigh of relief after quenching his thirst, then stood up and turned to see that Takeda was preparing to start the general's training. It seemed odd, training the most senior ranking person here while on a mission, but it was not his place to make those decisions. He looked to K'Jol, who at this point seemed to be watching the general as she exercised and looked bored. Then K'Jol commented about the general training with him.

Rakar wondered what exactly K'Jol meant by that. What would K'Jol do to train her? Rakar knew of K'Jol's reputation as somewhat of a merciless brute, anyone who attended the tournament would have heard of it. K'Jol was truely worthy of being called a Kaustirian warrior, and that was perhaps the problem. Rakar gave K'Jol a suspicious look as he watched how this might play out. In the meantime, Coros took to the sky again, flying up and keeping watch from above. Rakar pulled his heavy tower shield off of his back, and allowed the end of it to rest on the ground as he held it up from the top to relieve himself of it's weight. He would have taken his armor off too, if he wasn't afraid that he might still need it.

 

[Dunruffle]

During the first day of the expedition Nils rode at the front of the group and guided the way. Looking back at the assembled soldiers and workers he sighed and pondered the task he had been given by the Czar. Obviously general Amalia was not one used to hardship, but when put under enough pressure anyone can adapt. That he was sure of, it was the general's state of mind that would be affected the most. Nils stared at the burning horizon and ground his teeth. They were going to take heavy losses, no way around it. The wastelands surrounding Dorograd were not plain desert, it seemed that nobody had really believed him when he made his short speech before their departure. The general was blissfully unaware of how grueling this expedition would really be. Shaking his head Nils sighed and focused on guiding the way.

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Being one of the first to arrive at the oasis Nils dismounted and quickly filled his various water pouches. A few minutes later the general herself led a ragtag group into the water in joyous celebration. Growling under his breath Nils fought every urge to yank the general out of the water and punish the rest of the soldiers. They were dirtying the very water that they would be drinking in the future, a travesty against every teaching Nils had learned to survive the desert. Nils waited for Amalia to begin her training before stalking over to the small group relaxing in the water. "You all are a disgrace! Get out of the water before you poison it with your filth!" The soldiers quickly scrambled out of the water in fear as Rotter bared his yellow teeth and hissed menacingly. Nils would have flogged them on the spot had the need for men not been so great. Walking over to Amalia and Takeda, Nils abruptly interjected. "Pardon the interruption general, but after you are done I need to discuss something with you." Before she could respond Nils turned around and stalked back to the camp and went about checking the supplies.

 

[unanun]

Avarath, brown

Lost in thought, Lut was nearly sent tumbling forward by the hit from behind. Self-loathing welled up inside him - when had he forgotten how to fight or be alert? Years of scratching ink on paper were costing him the keenness he had when he was chopping up --- into --- ... ----

He woke from his nostalgia and spun to face the Draken with a toothy grin, hand placed on the rapier's hilt, but his predatory look vanished as he recognized Draegal.

"You! Will you also show me other springs that I seek?" The cloud initially behind his face clear, he followed the Draken into the bar. He did not correct Draegal's honorific - Lut's position, and thus title, were always ambiguous, and he was referred to by many names.

Upon entering the bar, his face was lit in child-like wonder.

"Sands below, there you are." The exasperation in Lut's voice was palpable as he finally spotted a statue unlike the rest he had been examining. The troll uncurled itself from the corner of the bar, arms unsticking from where they had been wrapped around the knees, hugged to the chest. A fair bit of sand fell from various crevices as Nae stood up and slowly sauntered over to the pair.

"Took you long enough," the troll purred, the barest hint of deference in his voice. "Whos, hn, the drunk Draken?"

"Someone who is in a unique position to help us." Lut's eyes narrowed. "That is, if you aren't exaggerating."

The troll's nails clicked in silent agitation. "I don't lie. Something quietly, slowly, poisons our springs."

Lut gestured at the barkeep, who tilted a jug of animal blood into his drink. The thick red liquid sluiced into the Lotus Fire, and he slammed the drink back with finality, fixing his eyes on the Draken as his sun-torn faced healed itself for the second time in Avarath. The blood made the drink barely acceptable to his body, and only an immeasurable amount of practice prevented him from succumbing to the drink.

"Your drink, and duty, brew in Zirako. Let's go. We can discuss about it on the caravan home."

He pushed himself off the chair, both hands on the counter top for but a second, and strode out the door, snatching a parasol and spinning it around as he left the bar into the sun, humming an old desert hymn. He might have hiccuped.

 

[Obskeree]

Theo the Miner

Comrade Maladas.

It had been a while since someone had said his name. All he had had for the last few years stationed in Chamber 14 was "beast" or "creature". The foreman he had been working under there didn't like him very much. Minotaur wasn't great either, but at least it wasn't meant as a slight.

Nicknames notwithstanding, the exchange with Henvit baffled Theo on many levels. Why were they moving him not just a chamber, but a level away? Weren't there any other Minotaurs on 6th? Who would take Theo's place on 5th? And just what had happened to the other Minotaur? That didn't look like the result of a rock fall.

Gaios flew up from out of his gear bag and hovered in front of his face.

"Get moving, get moving," he echoed the Draken in a whispered voice. Theo grunted and shuffled along, grabbing his Aux in his giant hand and stuffing him back into the bag. He squeaked once and went quiet.

"I'm moving," Theo said, as more of a confirmation to himself than a response to Gaios. He set his cart aside - the runners would pick it up - and started off for his new destination, his unease from earlier not dispelled in the least... though he trusted his orders, especially if they came from the Commissariat. It had to be for the best.

*

It wasn't. At least, not for Theo.

If his previous station had made him uneasy, Tunnel D, of Chamber 15 on the 6th level, made him downright jumpy. His new comrades were silent and hollow faced yet frantic as they worked, and an uncovered lava pocket nearby made the air stiflingly hot. There was a smell in the air that mixed with the sulpher to make it horrific. The tunnel itself really small, such that Theo's horns scraped the ceiling as he walked and covered his head and back in a fine lair of dirt.

Henvit wasn't around, and all the miners seemed to already be assigned deposits, and the lack of clear instruction beyond 'be the Minotaur' didn't make Theo particularly comfortable. Nonetheless, idleness was the ultimate sin, and so he retrieved his trusty pickaxe and set off further down the tunnel.

 

[Asmodeus]

​

Gulzar Ganguly liked it hot. And sometimes Kaustir wasn't hot enough. His inner city mansion, deep in the old diplomat's district, was warmed on the inside by plundered thermic gems. The spoils of cuthroat deals (and dealing cuthroats) that had paved the history of Avarath. Of the wayward tribes of spice-trading Drakens who had first settled on these shores, the Ganguly family were both the shrewdest and the most daring. They had built Avarath on the principle of addiction - giving the westfolk a taste of exotic pleasure, then upping the price when they were hooked. Every commodity was duality - every gift a double-edged sword. The spice was used as poison, the whores used as informants, the arms sold to those who would kill each other quickly.

Some said the merchants of Avarath were not true Kaustirans. Gulzar, sitting atop his empire of commercial chokeholds, would disagree.

The thermic gems lent infernal hue to the inside of his mansion. In the upper office the Draken Mayor sat bathed in red and studied his Book of Secrets. A legacy of the Sand Masons, the fellowship of merchants who mapped the desert. Having built the greatest structures of Kaustir, the Masons knew their secrets, their hidden passages, their resonance to magic and their value on the trading routes. All was recorded in the book.

He could fight a guerrilla war for years underneath this city. He could even send an assassin to the bedside of the Czar.

But such was bad for business.

As Gulzar turned another page he heard commotion outside. His posse of bodyguards were shouting about something. Probably drunkards coming home from the night's festivities. He ignored it and ran his finger along the diagram of the Avarathi shipyard, tracing the shapes of hidden gunports, firetraps, murder-holes and escape routes. His personal project - an inner dock that would become death-trap to an invading fleet.

There was cheering on the street. The ground shook slightly. Gulzar scowled at the window then buried his head in the book. He studied the network of alleys between his mansion and the penthouse of the merchant K'larr, checking that the sewer lines were complimentary. One never knew when he would have to--

"DESERT SUN! DESERT SUN!"

Chanting on the streets. An impromptu rally. Just what he needed to disturb his reading time. Gulzar sighed, slammed the book shut, and rose from his chair to close the window...

...only to find the Czar hovering there.

"Morning." The vampire smiled from outside the six-storey window, the breeze buffeting his robes. He was suspended in mid air, and down below were the shouts of his guards and the cries of adoring townsfolk.

"We need to talk." The Czar floated slowly up and down.

Gulzar crossed his arms.

Lukesh smiled again. "I wouldn't try to kill you. You're too rich."

Gulzar slowly opened the window and looked down.

The giant elephant took another breath and lifted the Czar to eye-level with the mayor.

"We insist."

* * * * *​

"I'm returning to Zirako." In the great saddle of the elephant, Lukesh reclined on velvet pillows and passed a Kresnik glass to the mayor. "I came here to bury Korsch, and now that is done. Back to a city I can understand now. A simpler city."

He propped one arm on the wood railing and peered into the street. A rugged mix of imperial and Avarathi bodyguards flanked the elephant and pushed back the thronging crowds. The city was alive with news of the Czar riding out, and from every quarter they had come to glimpse him. Rose petals and Kresnik shot-glasses formed a carpet for the great beast as it passed. The Czar's aux, Aukhmos, padded along at ground level and gave imperious growls to the crowd.

"You know, I still have nightmares about Zirako. The Black Tower. I haven't been there for fifty years, but the horror is fresh. It follows me." His coal-black eyes were lowered. "I was there when they built it. I wish I didn't know what was inside. I envy your generation, Gulzar. You do not have to dream about such things..."

There was silence, breeding only mystery. Gulzar had heard whispers of the Black Tower - that innermost part of Zirako known only to Lukesh and the troll guardians. It was one of few places his Book had no wisdom on. A true vault of horrors.

Lukesh broke from his memories and looked up. "But still... it is home." He downed his Kresnik.

The elephant turned north and clomped past the coliseum. At this height they could see through its arches to the blood-raked sand. A statue of Amalia was being carved there, the masons working on their new addition to the parade of heroes. It was something absurd to witness. He would need to fill that stadium again once Lukesh departed. The people needed games. They needed a release.

They needed blood.

Lukesh nestled deep in the pillows and watched the mayor. "It comforts me to know that I leave Avarath in good hands. You are... accustomed to the softness. A man of words and whimsy." His smile was deceptive; a scorpion playing dead. "I could not bear to leave, knowing that you did not have the best interests of the people at heart."

He had arrived at the point. Like a dagger drawn.

"Where did that tablet come from, Gulzar?"