EARLY MORNING

In the ever growing light of the still morning, the mul's graceful figure makes a deadly silhouette against the rising light. She moves through a series of practiced swings and thrusts, with her long sword and tortoise blade that blends together forming an elegant dance. The look on her face shows how much happier she is feeling to be out in the open air, able to stand at her full height and move with the fluidity and pride the companions have come to know she possesses. It is also noticed that she is no longer wearing her tan chitin breast plate, and flailer-shell coverings on her arms and legs as it is all in a pile on the ground beside her. Garbed in her strips of leather fastened about her chest and a pair of leather shorts, the companions realize that this is only the second time they have seen the mul without any armor on and they have never seen her with anything on her feet. The other odd thing about her appearance is that for the first time since they met, the mul does not have a wrist razor attached to either wrist. She still, however had the pouch containing her new little friend hanging off her belt.

Noticing that her companions are awakening, the Mul drops the weapons on her pile of belongings and approaches Koreth. In dwarven she speaks "Would ye spar with me noble Koreth? I would learn much from yer wisdom and experience."

Koreth grins as he rises and stretches. He grabs his bastard sword from atop a pile of armor near where he slept. His boneclaw skull helmet sits atop a suit of armor fashioned from jagged pieces of black chitin. He draws the sword from its elaborate and expensive looking scabbard, raising it in a warrior's salute to Rayne.

"Yes M'Lady, let us dance this fine morning." he says a mischievous grin in his eyes.

Rayne carefully places her pouch with the worm down by her other items and gathers her weapons and armor to practice with Koreth. Rayne and Koreth spend much of the morning engaging in the dances of warriors hard at play. Speaking mostly in dwarven, the two exchange tips and tactics to help each other out. Despite the camaraderie, Rayne could not bring herself to ask Koreth about his time spent with the dwarves. <not now, maybe another day>

Koreth enjoyed the sparring session, it worked his muscles from the stiff and sore state in which he woke into a condition of readiness. Saluting Rayne again, Koreth held his sword before his face.

"You most certainly taught me a thing or two Rayne," Koreth comments in raspy dwarven a large smile on his face as he sheaths his sword and wipes the sweat from his brow "Your style is most interesting...I hope to learn more from you." The last part he speaks almost as if it were a question.

Bowing her head and returning his solute Rayne smiles and gives Koreth a wink. "Ye can bet on that, yer not too bad yerself. Where'd ye learn to fight like that?"

Koreth grins mischievously in what almost looks like a child's grin as Rayne winks at him. A light is in his eyes that has been long gone, even if what brought it about is a mystery. "From the master at arms of house Harek." Koreth replies, something slightly strange about the tone of his voice "He is a harsh man and an even harsher teacher. Taught me not only how to fight, but how to survive as well."

He swaggers over to his pile of belongings, greedily grabbing a skin and taking a long drink of it. Looking very refreshed, he sets the skin down and unbuckles his sword. Moving a few of his possessions, he begins to stretch. The positions he uses look odd to the eyes of his companions, perhaps even painful.

Aryus awakened before the dawning of the sun, like he does every morning. Taking a deep breath of the fresh misty air of the forest, the windmage heads up to the top of a small hill and gazes into a clearing to watch the sun rise. Spreading his arms and legs, Aryus tries to catch the morning breeze. But the forest was peaceful and calm, no winds came. Despite this, Aryus still gives his usual prayer to the wind, ensuring that his spells would be available to him for this day.

Mendi woke up when he heard the Wind Mage's movements. He remained lying on the earth, eyes half closed, for some more minutes, bathing in the dawning sun's soft warm. Mendi then moved carefully to a cross-legged position, for his shoulder soon lanced him. He looked the rising sun's explosion of colors, which carved the big tree against the sky, delighting in the natural spectacle of a simple morning... alive and relatively healthy. When he ceased his contemplation of the rising sun, his eyes fell on the gaping hole on the upper left of his leather armor, where the halfling archer's arrow had hit him. Mendi sighed, and crouched to find the bone needle and leather wire he kept in his bag. Sitting back, he then sewed the hole, grumbling about the lack of leather that would have allowed him to make a better work.

Once his stitching finished, the elf walked to the small stream where they had filled their skins, where he washed removing the filth and caked blood from his still tired body. He was careful not to put water on his shoulder wound, however. He then filled some empty skins he had taken with him, and went back to the camp, where he found Koreth and Rayne mock fighting. He looked at them for a short while, and then proceeded with what he had in mind. He filled one of the party's open containers with water, and then put the strange sponge in it. He then waited for a while, until the liquid looked really pure, and then put the sponge away, and then, seeing that Koreth was idle, asked him for some help.

"O glorious ex-leader, I wonder if you could give me a hand: I need to wash this wound." Mendi stated as he showed his bandaged shoulder, "and to dress it again."

Koreth, once grinning and very happy, lost his humor as the elf made sport of him. He moved over to Mendi, taking a swallow of water from his skin. "Let's have a look at it then," Koreth inspects the wound with some care, obviously having had to tend to wounds before, "try not to move too much elf...." He goes about the task of cleaning and dressing Mendi's wounds; his hands not gentle in their actions.

"Ugh... No need to break my shoulder," said Mendi, then, as the nobleman sends him a killing stare: "thanks, nobleman Koreth," added a somewhat less smug elf to the noble warrior.

Once his shoulder was dressed again by Koreth, who handled the elf's shoulder like some meat but made the bandage well nonetheless, Mendi looked for some wood and sat to implement an idea that had came to him while he stitching his leather armor. He took some bones from the party's last meal, and began to carve crude chunks that he then carved into sturdy needles with his bone dagger, using his silex hatchet to polish them. He had made a dozen needles when Aryus came back from his morning stroll.

Returning to the camp later in the morning, Aryus watches his companions about their business. The windmage unstraps his long bow and flexes it to test its strength. Then an idea occurred to him.

"Would one of you be interested in practicing archery with me? It has been a while since I practiced with this bow and I would love to test my skill again. Perhaps we may even have a competition..."

"I'll certainly like to comply", said the elf, reaching for his light crossbow. He then looked for his quiver, and scowled when he realized that he had forgotten to recover his last quarrels in the heat of the battle against the two blobs. He counted the remaining bone quarrels, and found 14 of them. "Well, it looks like I'll need to make some! I never thought I'll need so much of them!". The elf tied the quarrel to his girdle, and then followed the half-elf wind mage to a clearing some distance from the camp. "I don't want to loose too many quarrels while we practice, so I suggest we make a target with out of earth and wood. What do you think, Aryus?"

Since Ayrus agrees, Mendi fetches his spade in his bag, and slowly begins to shape a target. Once the crude, vaguely humanoid form was completed, the elf and the half-elf begin to fire arrows and quarrels on it. After two hours of practice, the two archers hadn't really seen who was the best among them, so they decided to stop and rest for a while. "That reminds me of other times, when I spared with other young people from Tyr... well, this is long gone, now! Let's join the other, Aryus."

Tak’ awoke late. For him anyway, the sun was not yet up, but the glimmers of the coming day were starting to scatter through the leaves of the forest above. Noticing Chit-Zik, a hive of activity, moving constantly around the campsite - his antenna futilely attempting to respond to every sound and sight that the jungle gave at this time of day.

Stretching once, Tak’ stood, his body sore but feeling better after a full nights sleep. Deciding not to don his armor for the coming hunting expedition, Tak’ left his simple hardened leather leggings and shirt at the campsite - electing to take only his bow, quiver and daggers with him.

Glad to be free of the encumbrance of armor for a change, Tak’ sauntered merrily over to the sleeping Elric, with Chit trailing him who was impatiently waiting for the hunt to begin. "Yes, Chit, we can depart once Elric is risen," Tak’ states as he prods the half-elf with his toe.

Elric rolls into a sitting position rubbing his sleepy eyes. Looking up to the small form of Tak "Wha? My turn at watch? Oh, I hurt what a rough **YAWN** morning…" Glancing around to see Chit-Zik ready for the hunt Elric glances back to Tak, for the first time noting his readiness to hunt. "Oh you mean hunt now?" Rumbling as he gathers his cloak and long bow, "I said morning not middle of the night, Tak"

Shaking off his sleep and the aches of the past few days Elric straps his bow to his back and buckles his swords into place. Reaching down into his belongings Elric pulls out his map case strapping it to his back with a small grin. "Ok, ok I’m ready."

The exotic trio prepares to head out of the camp, searching for food - and something more...

"The hunt may be long, and we are not all in most prime of shapes," Tak’ says, glancing at the cracks in Chit-Zik's chitin, Elric's bandages and his own burns. "I will heal us up as much as I am able, and I would advice you do the same Chit."

The kreen goes through his magical healing asking for aid to his spirit of the land. Infusing himself with a power he goes about healing Elric of his remaining scratches. The process is slow but the warlock ends up completely healed and feeling as good as ever. He stretches and watches in amazement as Chit goes about mending his own chitin and fixing his wounded arm.

After that Tak’ reaches into his nexus, pleased to feel the renewed strength within him. Letting his Will flow into him, Tak’ turns the energy to removing from his body the wounds that he has suffered - replacing the dead cells with healthy ones, invigorating his body with a new life.

Lending his skills to the insectoid druid, Tak’ empties his mental reservoir, closing the wounds of the past day, and restoring vitality to his injured comrade. The companions quickly and silently departed…

Gaigin awakes with a groan, and yawns loudly. Stretching battered muscles, and pleased to find his head clear, even if his body was still weak, Gaigin rises to his feet and looks about the camp. His companions were already up and going about their business, leaving Gaigin to make plans for the day and try to recoup some of his losses. Making a quick decision over some dried rations and water, Gaigin turns to the forest and sighs. Turning to his companions, he smiles dryly.

"I'm off for a short walk, shouldn't be too long. If ye here me scream, come runnin', and if ye find me bitten by some Gith-Spawned, Erdlu-Dung eating exotic bloody insect, just run me through and get it over with." With a barking laugh, Gaigin heads off into the bush, limping heavily.

IN THE BUSH (Gaigin)

The fiery morning light filters through the lush greenery of the forest roof, cascading in shimmering beams of light to the forest floor, highlighting lush undergrowth and brilliantly-colored exotic flowers the size a Half-Giants palm. Everywhere the sounds of birds singing and animals chirping or howling can be heard, as insects buzz lazily through the humid air. Ignoring the splendid beauty, and eyeing every exotic bit of flora and fauna with deep suspicion, Gaigin concentrates on the task at hand, scratching idly every now and then and grumbling loudly to himself.

With his keen eye and good working knowledge of woodcraft earned from long years working in the wood-hauling Caravans of Raam, it doesn't take long for the Ex-Guard to make his first find. A young, thin hardwood with purple-hued bark lies toppled on its side, foliage decaying quickly in the tepid climate. Gaigin examines the fallen tree, which appears to have been uprooted by some large animal, perhaps trying to catch prey hiding in the tree's branches, and nods to himself. Hard, thin, and inflexible, relatively free of knots, with a straight trunk to a height of about 8'. Perfect. Grasping the trunk with both hands, Gaigin hefts the tree, which was thankfully quite light, and wanders back towards camp, whistling to himself.

Surprisingly, Gaigin literally stumbles across his other goal. Picking himself up off the ground and cursing loud enough to send several flocks of brightly-colored birds scrambling for the safety of the skies, Gaigin turns back angrily to find what tripped him. A good sized branch juts out of the dense, moist soil, about the length of a man's arm. Bending down to pull the piece out of the dirt, he discovers it to be exactly what he was looking for. About three feet long, and covered in knotted lumps down to it's tip, the greenish-tinted wood is obviously recently fallen, and from a great height by its shape and size, perhaps all the way from the forest canopy. Gaigin examines it critically, shrugs, and tucks it in his thick belt for later examination.

BACK IN CAMP

A couple of hours after the group had woken, Gaigin comes limping back into camp, supporting himself with what appears to be a long, thin, purple-barked tree, complete with roots and foliage intact. A wildly knotted and gnarled branch juts out from his belt at an awkward angle, and his robe is newly covered in dirt and mud stains.

Setting his new possessions aside, Gaigin hobbles over to Mendi, grinning widely. Tapping the elf on the shoulder and nodding towards Mendi's prodigious collections of oddities, Gaigin speaks up, in fluent elven.

"Morning' Elf. I was wondering if ye'd be up for a little barterin', seeing as how ye seem to be as well stocked as any two caravan wagons. Now all my money's lost, mind, but when this job's complete I have no small bit of silver coming to me, and seeing as how ye're not gettin' paid for this jaunt, I thought ye might appreciate being cut in for some bit of it." Gaigin waits for a response, confident that no sane elf would turn down a chance to make a bit of silver.

"May you always find shade and sweet water, answers the elf, obviously happy to speak a civilized language. Well, let me think, what could interest you, perhaps those beautifully carved bone bracelets, or perhaps those nice ear-rings? Or would you be more interested in this ornamented skinning knife? Do you notice his fine metallic edge (a small band of iron is imbedded into the blade, making her very sharp for skinning)? It is sharp enough to allow you to shave... perhaps you would prefer those nice little ornamental stones... " The elf's voice droned for a while, and Gaigin's honeyed ears and blinded eyes left him with the promise of two silver pieces once he got paid in exchange for the skinning knife and some of the baubles of Mendi.

Gaigin tugs absent-mindedly at the band of copper piercing his left ear, eyeing the knife considerably, and ignoring the stones and baubles. "Aye, I'll take the knife...though don't expect me to pay extra for that cheap band of ore...a strip like that won't make much difference. Obsidian is as sharp as anything when cared for properly, and sturdier then that flimsy strip of 'iron' in any case. The iron may do well for skinnin', but I'm more for usin' it as aw wood carver, and that thing'll likely get in the way as much as it helps. I'll give ye 6 ceramic for it, twice it's worth." Gaigin grins, "consider the extra a gift of friendship."

"A gift? But you want to kill me! My poor heart missed a beat when I heard your price... You want my flesh and blood, not my knife! I'll sell it at a loss for this price... By the blessed memory of my father, I cannot grant you a price lower than one silver for this fine craftsmanship, forged by the best mul blacksmith in all Tyr! Ah, Gaigin, in the name of friendship, I could give it to you, but sell it for what it costed me would break my heart! For eight ceramics, it is yours, and I'll give you this fine piece of whetstone to keep its edge fine and sharp!" (Note: 8cp seems reasonable)

Gaigin turns his gaze towards the rest of Mendi's inventory. "I'll take a couple of those needles and some thread, as well. And a purse, if ye can spare them. If you've got them, I could use a several strips of leather cord, and a spare scrap of cloth. Most importantly, I need something to use as a spear head, bone if you've got it, obsidian or flint otherwise. "Gaigin leans back casually, "I'll give you two good ceramics for those, and don't think ye aren't cheating me, either." Gaigin cracks his knuckles and awaits the expected harangue.

"Alas, I don't have a spearhead, but once the hunters come back maybe I can make you one, I'll use my hatchet! Since the hunters caught the material, I'll not charge you... we are between friends, after all", says Mendi in his most unctuous, honey-tongued tone, to blunt the warrior's defenses... The peddler looks in his bag, takes a purse, his ball of thread, three needles, some leather cord, and proposes them for one ceramic. "How much cloth do you need?" asked Mendi. Gaigin took the various goods and they agreed on a payment in Tyr, once they went back to the big city. Because of the late payment, Gaigin agreed on a silver piece rather than the mere nine ceramic pieces, in compensation of the loan. The deal made, Mendi silently cursed himself not to have bought some cloth, but he nonetheless proposed to Gaigin.

"Another thing I can do for you is to guide and counsel you in the elven market once we are back to our glorious city of Tyr... I'm sure you always wanted to explore its corners and taste the strange, exotic foods and drinks one can found there, or enjoy the sight of the marvelous of the elven craftsmanship... But what do you mean by not paid for this jaunt? I thought it clear that I'll have my share when you accepted me in your group, Gaigin," said Mendi in a polite but firm tone.

Gaigin grimaces slightly, scratching the stubble encroaching on his bald pate. "I've bin to the Elven Market already, thank you...and it's corners hold more cutpurses than exotic wonders...and as for "Elven Craftsmanship"...well, you must have been to different parts of the market than I, for whatever I've seen was either lifted from caravans, nicked from the odd purse, dug up from some ruin, or hacked together from cheap basics. No offense to yourself, of course. You're merchandise is well crafted and honestly garnered, as I've seen first hand." Gaigin pauses and clears his throat.

Mendi laughed softly... "As I told you, one should never go to the elven market without a guide, or one will only see the cheapest goods! There are treasures seldom seen in the elven market, fruits that gives you the strength of a giant, charms that protect you from the haunting of your dead foes, and many other peculiar things..."

"Forgive me, friend Mendi, but I'm afraid me fever must've addled my brain a bit. I don't recall cutting you in on our reward money at all. Seems to me we agreed to travel together so that you could do a little side trading with the Pterrans, which is fine as long as it doesn't compromise our ultimate prerogative as a trading envoy." Gaigin clears his throat again, and his tone changes to an official, bureaucratic tone, "Of course, it is in my power to grant you official status in our envoy, but I would be remiss in my capacity as leader of an official Diplomatic Trading exposition to the Pterran Nation, were I to grant such a position to one who acts first in the interest of himself, as opposed to the interest of the City-State of Tyr. Though it would be my pleasure to work with you in an official capacity, and your trading abilities would, of course, be of great benefit to us in our negotiation, I'm afraid that, for the time being, we must remain friends and comrades in arms, working together for our mutual benefit, rather then official Partners in this enterprise." Gaigin pants a little, as if exercising political skills long unused tires him more than a little. Muttering under his breath.

"Ah, my friend, your fever must have indeed clouded your memory, if you forget your experience as a caravan guard!" said Mendi in a businesslike tone, honey but firm, and not really unsettled by the warrior's imitation of the Templar's pompous speech. "You presented yourself as the leader of this caravan, or pack, as Elric calls it, when I fell on you by chance. You asked me what my skills where, then, and accepted me as a member of this endeavor as another experienced caravan guard and scout, and trader. You should remember that when a caravan guard accepts a new guard on the road, the standard terms and conditions is that he pays him the same pay as the other guards, plus the risk premium granted in case of fight. When you left the group as your illness, Koreth didn't challenge my role in this pack, and one could argue that you lost any former rights on this endeavor, monetary or else, even though you came back later. Since you left us, I could claim your former rights, were I not a friend and fair companion. Granted, your disease only disabled you temporarily and you rejoined us, but you were more a liability than an asset when your delirious mind lead you to believe you were a Templar of old."

The elf continues his ranting, "Anyway, since we are between 'friends', and since your own position in this endeavor is not what it used to be, I am, therefore, as entitled to claim my share of the benefits as you are. And you would certainly not want to put some more burden on the Templar of Tyr. Should our discussion become a real conflict, I would have to ask for a Templar's council and we would have to explain that you had to resign in the middle of an official mission. I'm sure that though the Templar would perfectly understand that your disease gave you fair reasons to rescind your word, such a behavior must be sanctioned by a fee, and perhaps, if someone explained things in an unfair light, he could even label you a deserter... Well, there are no reasons our slight misunderstanding, probably caused by the great tiredness the disease put on you, should reach such extremities? Did Ptellac not consider me part of the pack? Did he not hint on some private negotiations on our common interest in artworks, but of an otherwise relation within the boundaries of the compact between Lost Scale and the great free city of Tyr? Besides, you should remember that I already risked my life and saved your neck, and that of the other members of this expedition, at least twice.

Mendi is on a roll and adds, "Should you consider me only a comrade in arms with no right on this trip's benefit, I'm afraid we'll have to rescind any former agreement, formal and informal, and consider from now on that since you excluded me from the benefits of this mission for the greater glory of our fair city of Tyr, I am now a mercenary. And as such, I claim the usual wages of those of this kind, 1 ceramic a day, 1 silver per fight, plus my share on any findings, as those are the fair and common terms and conditions that govern the life of a mercenary. Needless to say, any use of my the special powers I can do thanks to my formal training with the Way, any use of my Will, will also be considered as a paying service. Should you rely on my trading skills to negotiate for the better interest of the free city of Tyr, my price as an exterior counsel will be fair, 5 silver piece, plus a share of the future benefits from those trading roads, blah, blah, blah."

Gaigin laughs loudly and claps Mendi on the shoulder. "Enough, Enough! I should've known better than to try and barter with an Elf...fool that I am. I'll tell ye what. We all here receive pay for this mission on an individual basis, so I can not offer ye a share. But, I swear, I'll see to it that those thieving Bureaucrats in Tyr pay ye the same wage as they pay us, if I have to brow-beat every gith-spawned Templar in Tyr into agreeing to it, I will. Consider yerself one o' us, now Mendi. If ye twist yer tongue half so well in the negotiations as ye did with meself, Tyr will be gettin' ye fer a bargain, no doubt."

Mendi smiles a frank, happy smile, and then clasps Gaigin's hand in a rare demonstration of trust. "I believe you and I trust you, Gaigin elf-friend. You are a good leader, and a tough negotiator!" Mendi bows deeply in mark of respect, and then moves back to his bedroll and resumes his needle-carving.

Gaigin laughs again and gathers his new possessions before heading over to where he left his forest finds. Picking up the branch and the tree, he heads over to where Ptellac rests in the shade, absent-mindedly carving at a block of wood with a small knife.

The big fighter sets his bundle of equipment on the ground and pulls his robe up over his head, stripping down to his small-clothes. Sitting cross-legged on the ground with his robe in his lap, Gaigin pulls out the needle and thread and begins the arduous process of mending the biggest tears and returning the robe to a serviceable condition, using the scrap of cloth to patch the largest gaps.

Leaning over in his work, Gaigin speaks to Ptellac:

"Ptellac. I was thinking to meself, now that we're finally set for this last stretch towards yer homeland, that we may be at some disadvantage in yer land. We don't speak a word o' yer own language, and we may spend some time in yer village. Though ye're certainly a capable translator, ye can't be with us at all times, so it makes sense that one o' us at least be able to greet the leaders o' yer people in yer own language. And, since languages are a bit of a hobby for me, I may as well try my hand at learnin' the basics. What do you think?"

Mendi abruptly stopped his needle carving, and walked toward the big warrior and the pterran merchant. "If you don't care, I'd also like to learn some bases, so that I can propose my wares to the good people of your village... and help Gaigin in our future negotiations as well as I can, of course," added the elf not without some mischief in his eyes. "I am interested in some more trading oriented phrases and words than Gaigin, and, of course, how to express prices..."

The pterran still hurting from his wounds, smiles as his thin lips curl back revealing strong teeth. "Why, it would a pleasure and I suppose you will teach more yourselves of the trade tongue used. You both seem to speak the tongue of the long-legged desert runners. I am not sure if there is much business to deal with them but it would sure help. I have a certain knack for languages and I learn quite rapidly." He looks around at the interest shown by both his new pupils and adds, "I reckon we still have more than a week until we reach my home so it would be enough to get you through the basics. Shall we start then?"

Gaigin listens well, dividing his attention between learning the lessons of the Pterran's tongue and mending his equipment. As he listens carefully to the Pterran's words, occasionally repeating a word or phrase, he finishes mending the better part of his robe and turns his attention fully to the lesson. Several hours pass as the big fighter sits cross-legged before the pterran, trying to wrap his mind and tongue around the strange, Saurian language of the pterrans. By the time Gaigin's too addled to continue, he has already learned how to say "Yes" and "No," as well as a few useful phrases of greeting and farewell. He focuses most intently on the forms of respect in greeting, the proper greeting for an elder or chieftain as opposed to one given to a friend or child...the fighter even manages to learn a little more about the structure of pterran society in the process. Eventually, content that he had learned enough for the day, Gaigin promises to continue with the lesson at camp tomorrow night and goes to prepare for their leave-taking in the morning.

The elf trader also learned quite rapidly and the rest of the morning is spent much in conversation. Both students had a few problem with the guttural tongue especially the "rrr" sounds that seemed to come easily to the pterran throat certainly made their throats scratch more than what was healthy. They both came away with the feeling that speaking the pterran tongue was very thirsty business.

'A HUNTING WE WILL GO…(Elric, Chit-Zik and Tak’)

The day was glorious, the sky clear and the sun had yet to fully unleash its stifling heat on the three companions, and was merely warm instead of overpowering. The hunting grounds this time were not jungle, but the rolling scrub-covered hills just out the forest - to the South of the packs’ campsite.

The scrub was not dense, so the long legs of Chit-Zik were free to quickly cover the ground ahead of his two companions, scouting out the region ahead of Elric and Tak’ to ensure nothing unpleasant awaited them.

The run through the land was difficult to say the least in Elric’s bruised condition. Shrubs and limbs constantly disturbing his rhythm. Elric pushes hard to keep up with the kreen hunter and the agile halfling. Turning his gaze to watch Chit-Zik swiftly run through the forest, Elric finds little clue to aid him in the leaps of Chit’s kreen form. Pausing a moment, Elric turns his attention to Tak. The warlock stares in amazement watching the halfling hunter. Tak’s every move a precise dance trough the forest. Feeling the rhythm of the halflings movements, Elric watches as the halfling moves through out the shrub each movement placing him in position to handle the next obstacle, constantly in balance. With a sigh, Elric focuses on the rhythm of the jungle and takes off to catch up with his companions. In mimicking Tak’s graceful steps, Elric find himself falling into a balanced run through the forest.

The trio discovered a large game-trail almost immediately - the trail itself was wide and flat - perfect for moving caravans, although the scrub on either side would allow an easy ambush. There were the distinct tracks of many Erdlu - as well as something larger - and likely much more dangerous.

"We will have to pick our prey carefully," says Tak’ as he hides himself beneath a small tree, his bow and arrows close to hand - his view of the trail considerable as the three hunters hunker down and wait for their prey to pass.

Elric moves down the trail a bit slipping into the morning shadows. Positioning himself between two shrubs, he pulls his cloak about him. Using his cloak to augment the natural shadows of the two shrubs, the warlock fades from view along side the game trail. The forest quickly falls into silence as the companions ready themselves along the trail. Slowly the natural sounds of the forest reappear. Elric maintains his disciplined stillness as he enjoys the calm about him. Moving his head slowly and with the rhythm of the winds, the warlock turns and surveys the area. Tak and Chit-Zik are no where to be seen though he knows they are there, waiting to strike when the prey shows itself.

The sun has just barely crested the horizon when the hunter here movement along the trail. A small bird takes flight from up the trail, startled from its roust by the approaching creatures. Elric silently checks his bow, arrow and position to insure everything is in place. Along the trail comes a small herd of Erdlu. Their movements are slow and cautious as they continue down the trail. Whatever large creature followed the previous group of Erdlu has not gone undetected by this small band. The half-elf waits perfectly still as the Erdlu approach, his eyes down cast as not to alert the prey. Focusing on the animal’s bodies, to avoid eye contact with the Erdlu, Elric selects his prey. As the herd settles into the trail, he pulls to a full draw, making sure the Erdlu are not looking his way.

Elric releases his arrow into the morning light. A blur of motion streaks through the air. The Erdlu, which is the arrows mark, continues its slow movement down the trail. The arrow strikes with a solid thud. The stricken Erdlu lets out a soft bellow as it spasms from the impact, then stumbles to the trail. The surrounding animals skirt to the side of the wounded Erdlu not yet realizing its demise.

Almost immediately after Elric's arrow strikes the Erdlu, Tak’ fires as well -his arrow missing by a fraction as it buried itself into the dusty trail. Chit-Zik, however was more successful, his crystalline chatkcha striking with unerring accuracy. The flightless, featherless bird repeatedly tried to stand, only succeeding in kicking up dust on the trail as the two missiles had successfully felled it - if not killed it outright.

Then Chit-Zik appeared, running swiftly along the trail towards the herd of erdlu which had protectively huddled around their crippled flockmate, trying to drive them off and allow Gaigin's pack to feast on the fruits of their hunt. The sight of an adult Thri-Kreen, arms waving, screeching some sort of loud cry was too much for the erdlu - they would rather cede one of their number today than risk more losses to these wily predators.

With a small prayer to Gaea for the blessing she had bestowed on them, Tak’ waited until the erdlu had tired from its panicked thrashing, and then with one well-placed arrow finished it off. Dragging the carcass off to one side and quickly removing the non-essentials, Tak’ had quickly turned the large bird into enough meat for many days to come.

Moving into the trail, Elric looks along the sides at the shrubs. "I believe we have successfully proved that these shrubs supply ample cover for a decisive ambush. I will have to mark on the map that the brush should be cleared a bit or extra watch posted during this part of the journey. Hey, if it was completely safe how would caravan guards ever make a living."

Wrapping the meat in the skin of the animal which had recently housed it, Tak’ distributed the mornings take between the trio of hunters, who hefted its considerable weight across their shoulders and headed back to camp...

AFTERNOON

Later in the day, Rayne approaches Tak. "If you are not busy Master, I would be ready to begin my training." With an invite from the halfling, the mul sits and anxiously awaits the wisdom this small Master of the Way is willing to share with her.

Koreth was a few steps away from Rayne when he added, "I would like to sit in...if I may...?"

"Wouldn't bother me a bit, but ye'd have to ask the Master." Rayne winks at Koreth again and looks to Tak awaiting his response.

"Tak," Koreth takes a step towards Tak "may I sit in? It has been too long since I have listened to the teachings of the way...."

Tak’ chuckles a bit at Rayne's mention of ‘Master’, "I am only a student, as we all are. But I will teach what I know to all who would listen." Tak’ ensures that Koreth and Rayne are seated comfortably in the shade before sitting down cross-legged himself and beginning the lesson.

"We will begin with the most basic exercises and theory today, and move onto more complex theory at a future date," Tak’ smiles ruefully as he adds, "I will also have to apologize in advance for my lack of skills as a teacher - it is only a few cycles of the moon ago that I was learning these very lessons."

"Firstly; the Mindscape, which you probably already know something of. The Mindscape is a place where everything is possible - if for a time, and only through force of Will. In such an environment the untrained suspect that the strongest and fastest Harbringer will always triumph - and as such for novices often their first attempt at a harbringer is almost always a monster from legend and myth."

"But to build a harbringer is not easy. Indeed as a rule of thumb the larger and more powerful a construct you seek to make, the more difficult and draining an exercise it is."

"The most important lesson which students of the Way first learn is that nothing on Athas is unbeatable - no matter how strong or fast they be. The Dragon of Tyr was slain by a simple Mul. Drakes succumb to old age. Even huge mountains are worn away by the ravages of constant wind and water."

"Any harbringer can be defeated - often by something far easier to construct. In the Mindscape, to become tired and drained of Will is to deprive yourself of weapons and armor - and is tantamount to defeat."

"So, in a contest between two equals the deciding factor is invariably not the strength and speed of your harbringer - but creativity and flexibility. You need to be able to think creatively, and create constructs which your opponent is unfamiliar with - and able to respond with defenses that are capable of standing up to many types of offense. Doing this - by expending the least amount of energy necessary will allow you to triumph."

"You probably both have many questions about this, but they can be easily answered by a simple exercise which will both show you the merits of what I have said - and train your minds to be more creative and flexible. Join me in the mindscape," Tak says as he closes his eyes and concentrates - reaching into the center of his being to enter into the mental plane...

MINDSCAPE
The trio are in a clearing, not dissimilar to the one their physical bodies reside in. Koreth, Rayne and Tak’ are constructs resembling their physical forms, with only a radiant glow from each of them indicating that this is anywhere but the real world.

"You two are both warriors - used to sparring - yes? Here in the mindscape we will also spar, but the difference her is that you can create and change armor and weapons with your mind."

Tak’ concentrates for a moment and a handaxe appears in his hand. Immediately it changes into a dagger; a spear. His body is clothed in nothing but a loincloth. Then leather armor. Then he carries a shield. Then he returns to his normal unarmed and unarmored state saying, "remember that while you can be clad in any armor or carry any weapon - these are simple harbringers - there is a price to pay from your limited force of Will."

"You both cannot hurt each other here, and the object is to not get hit. If you block an attack by using less energy than your opponent used to mount their attack, you have won a small victory. Keep doing this and they will tire first - leaving them defenseless and unable to block even the most simple of attacks. And thus you will have triumphed."

"Be creative - outthink your opponent. Be flexible - able to respond to their attacks."

"While Rayne has more training than you Koreth, you are certainly not weak in the will."

Koreth explains, "While armor and even other defense mechanism seem to come fairly naturally to me as I have practiced and have been attacked enough times, I cannot seem conjure up enough Will to be able to produce any sort of weapons, much less the complicated attack forms that I have been attacked with in the past."

Looking at Rayne as armor and weapons of various types materialize on her waiting body, the halfling realizes that the lesson is probably too much for someone who has not had any chance to meditate and focus his inner energy in any length of time.

Tak tells everyone to come back to the real world, "Koreth, you have not been trained nor have you practiced the art extensively and will need to do that if you want to be able to attack. Perhaps it something you should think about as it will take up much of your time. Certainly, Rayne or I could teach you and lessen your learning curve considerably but, as in everything, it will require your dedication. If you feel that you rather hone your warrior skills, then maybe we can spar against you and make you much more able in your psionic defenses."

The harsh sun was setting once again, a cool breeze picked that found the companions piling up wood to start the fire that would fend off the night's chill. This promised to be a pleasant night as everyone loked towards the hunter's juicy bounty to replace cold, dry rations…

Your actions…

OUT OF CHARACTER

HEALTH STATUS

Remember the scale:

Healthy (H) 100% hitpoints remaining

Slightly Wounded (SiW) 75% to 100% hitpoints remaining

Wounded (W) 50% to 75% hitpoints remaining

Seriously Wounded (SeW) 25% to 50% hitpoints remaining

Mortally Wounded (MW) 0% to 25% hitpoints remaining

Ayrus (W)

Chit (H)

Elric (H)

Gaigin (SeW)

Gaigin will recover full hitpoints gradually in 4 days time notwithstanding any magical healing

Koreth (W),

Mendi (W),

Rayne (SiW),

Tak (SiW), 0 PSPs

Ptellac (SeW)

EXCELLENT AGAIN. Just keep it up.

I will follow up this Gaigin's and Mendi's night time activities. I would like a story for tonight. Ayrus has first shot at it but if not, Rayne seemed ready to go. Rive, please let us know if Ayrus will "perform" tonight ASAP (don't need the story right away, just confirmation).

Give me some night time activities and I will come up with a short write up for next turn.

I need to know everyone's capacity for carrying water since as you all know we will be travelling in the desert for some time. Please consult your character sheets and tell me. You can assume that you have enough to start the trip with a full allotment.

Koreth, you went up a level and your "numbers" are still outstanding; please get back to me.

One of the best ways to role-play is to learn a new skill. You don't have to wait to have NWP slot open to "start" learning. That can start anytime such as Gaigin and Mendi learning a new language. The skills Tak offered were the Contact proficiency (able to attack psionically for non-psionicist) or the Mental Armor proficiency (be able to defend better psionically). You can all come up with your own skill but we should exploit the role playing opportunities that this presents.

Questions, comments, and suggestions please.

L8r,

Fabian