Ayrus seemed elated by his morning ritual. The winds greeted him blowing his shoulder length hair and presenting his elven blood by revealing his pointed ears. His cerulean cloak fluttered madly about him making him look like one of those birdmen that were soemtimes seen out in the desert. The gusts were strong enough at times to almost throw him down the 30 feet high wall but the air cleric was so absorbed in his ritual that he did not see the danger. It had been fairly easy to climb up this part of the wall since the great earthquake had demolished a section of it; the drunk had tried twice but fell down in heap of curses, rubble, and dust. The half-elf was careful when he walked atop of it but once he started his prayers, his concern had banished. When he came down, he was exalted; his body and soul had been in contact with his patron spirit once again.

His adventure into the cities had been a failure so far and the pain of it still remained. He had lost his only companions a few days ago when they tried to get in the city of Urik. The Lion-King was stern in his isolationist policy and did not allow anyone to enter his city even to the point of sending out troops to disperse the crowds. Unfortunately, he was not aware of this and he was part of a crowd that was struck by Urik's regulars. Alana, his elven companion, had been killed in the onslaught. He had followed the remaining crowd to Tyr and was surprised to see that many such groups of peoples were in the city as well. He had been told of a great earthquake that had chased people from their homes in the villages around the city and urged them to find safety within the city walls. The air spirits did not seem all that happy in this city…

He had roamed the city yesterday and had smelled the air like he had never done so before. He smelled poverty, he smelled corruptness, and he smelled despair. These were all new to him and everywhere he turned, the air spirits told him how unhappy they were to be trapped within this city. It was also disturbing him as well. The only bright part of his stay had been the meeting with a preserver who had asked him to join him later. Ayrus learned that this was the only city where magic was not outlawed except, of course, defiling magic. His blank stare at the word defiling showed his incomprehension and he was told that he still had to learn a lot.

He jumped of the wall and the air spirits greeted him and slowly placed him on the ground. The deep-red sun was still raising when he started walking into the town once again. He attention was drawn by the murmuring crowd…

* * *

Chit Zik had come upon the outlying farms and had hunted for food as he always did when he was hungry. It was far easier here where game abounded. It was during his night's hunt, after he had brought down game and fed. The kreen had come upon a rare plant that was actually a parasite to the land. The plant would take up most of the nutrients in the soil and nothing could be grown for a few years after it had been harvested. The plant was not edible and the only potential use that he knew of it was the hallucionary effects it produced when its smoke was inhaled. It was for this reason that great masters of the Way often sought out the plant. But even this was dangerous, as the user could be become totally helpless if the right dose was not administered.

The kreen had proceeded to destroy the plant and had continue doing so during the night for he had found many such plants throughout the field; being a prudent nature tender, he only left a minimal numbers of the plant left He was found by a militia of warriors at dawn who were not interested in his explanation and had fired missiles upon sight. The kreen druid confused at first later became enraged and turned to flee. He exchanged blows with one of his hunters, but only briefly, before he was past him. His great jumping ability coupled with his great speed allowed him to get away but he was followed and the kreen knew it. The chase had gone as far as the gates, mysteriously enough, the enraged guards had not come into the city but the kreen was still wary.

The mantis warrior looked upon one of his claws and frowned. The claw was bloodied with what could only be human blood. He did not cherish in this for he thought of himself as a hunter and not a killer. He had fought and killed before but it was for a known reason, usually survival. The kreen noticed that one of his spikes on his upper arm had been shaved off, no doubt, in this last exchange of blows. His hard exoskeleton had protected him from being seriously hurt.

Chit Zik was confused, he had wondered into the city in search of a pack; he missed his hunting companions. His last pack had been killed and for a kreen to be without a pack was to be without a reason to live. He had found few mantis warriors in the city and those he did find, had apparently been turned into killing machines that performed in the arena.A lot of things were still new to the kreen.

He had relaxed a bit now that he was sure he was no longer being followed. The morning sun was on its race towards the apex when a large group of people all headed the same way. The kreen followed the crowd into the city's plaza…

* * *

A huge half-giant ducked underneath the door frame, came into the room and bellowed in a deep baritone voice, "Get ye out of here, ye whelp. I told ye to begone." The small boy quivered and merely stretched out his hand. The half-giant proceeded to threaten the whelp with his huge hand and the boy quickly dodged the blow. The half-elf scowled and added, "I am looking for work, I am an experienced caravan guard and heard you needed people. I can…"

His speech was abruptly cut short, "No, we no hire thieving elves!" That last word was almost spat on his face as the half-giant bowed down to speak to the man's face. More steps could be heard coming to the door and the half-elf strained to see past the huge mass of the half-giant. The half-giant laughed heartily holding his trembling large stomach. The warrior took a step backwards from the brute and his hand unconsciously went to his sword hilt. Quick thinking saved him as he backed off the captain just when two more guards came out to see what the commotion was about. He backpedaled with a grim visage, turned around, and quickly left their sight. "Who wants to hire himself to a half-giant captain anyway," he mused. The whelp had somehow made his way back and stretched his hand out for him. The half-elf sympathized with the boy but had no money to give out; he barely had money to get past this week.

He had come in to town three days ago as part of a merchant caravan. The caravan had picked up faro fruit and flour, made from their ground needles, from client farms around the city. The prices had gone up recently and the merchants were not expecting such a hefty cost for the goods and thus were not able to bring much into the city. He had fallen in love with the city; imagine a city were he could practice his mother's art in the open. He had enjoyed its finer pleasures for the past days but it was time again to gather up some money. It had been a fruitless search and the city seemed plagued with people who, like him, were looking for work. His elven blood did nothing to help that.

It was almost mid-morning as he headed out to the elven market; it may not be a bad idea to get some work with them. He knew he could be just as good as any of the desert runners. He was passing by the central plaza when the murmuring of the crowd called his attention…

* * *

A shifty human trader, the head of House Stel in Tyr, addressed him. "I am sorry to tell you but I have information that tells me that you veered away from the established trade route and thus were responsible for the second attack that we suffered." The warrior was quick to anger and surly replied, "What do you mean we, as far as I can tell you were here safe and cozy. It was me and my men that suffered the attack." The trader had become visibly nervous and sweat started pouring down his brow. Out of thin air, three guards appeared running into the room. A large mul stepped forward and unceremoniously pushed the merchant behind him. The two other guards leveled cocked crossbows at the warrior who stepped back.

The merchant recovered his composure and yelled at his guards, "Dam you, you are supposed to protect me better." He then puffed up his chest, looked at Gaigin, "You should be thankful that I don't have you killed right now but the merchant code prohibits me since you did bring the goods in but nothing prohibits me from firing you." Gaigin sternly looked at the situation and started to speak, "You still owe…" His speech was cut short by the trader, "Owe you!, you owe me and you should be thankful that you leave here with your life. Now get out!"

Gaigin entertained the thought of throwing away his life and taking as many with him as possible. "Ungrateful, son of whore. Oh how I wish you had been there. It is very easy to trace a route on a piece of paper but in the real world, you have to be flexible and be able to change." He balanced his large spear in his hands, although its head was covered, it would still work. He hadn't his armor on and the crossbows would fire at point blank. The sound of more running feet finally decided for him. He saw Zucker come into the room with two more mercenaries. The fat human merchant lied, "There you are. You see, I told you. He is prone to violence. This is what he did when he rebelled and took control."

Gaigin cursed under his breath and slowly backed away. "Oh, you lying bastard, you won't last one trip in the desert." He then addressed the head of the house who was still behind the large mul, "As for you, I thought House Stel had smarter business men in charge…" The warrior backpedaled keeping a wary eye on the soldiers and himself ready for action. When he was almost out the door, he called back in a mocking tone, "May I see you all in the sandy wastes soon." He was gone in flash.

A myriad of thoughts crossed his mind. After all, he still was in his home city even if it was run by slaves. He had many doors to knock. The gathering crowd suddenly distracted his thoughts. He decided to investigate further…

* * *

Koreth looked over the place as if for the first time. Plain dirt walls accompanied the dusty untiled floor. There wasn't much else to take away its bare feeling. The great Earthquake had taken its toll on the room as sunlight filtered through a new crack in the roof. It was a typical dung room, the kind you only stay in for a few hours if you were lucky or never came out alive otherwise; at least his clothing and sword were there. The wench, no doubt, recognized him as a noble and did not want to press her luck. She had bet on a generous patron this past night and Koreth had to admit, she had bet on a winner. Koreth slowly dressed; soft leather boots and tan breeches along with a blood red tunic completed the outfit. It felt good not to wear his armor once in a while, although he liked the way his cloak fell on him.

His last two days slowly came back to him… It had been a while since he had last visited his mother. She was always all praise and lavish for her younger son and, quite frankly, he enjoyed it. He took the opportunity to visit his mother whenever old man Harek was out of town. His father had left on a hunting trip and would not be back for several days. His mother always greeted him with love and most importantly… money. He had come in two days ago, left his crodlu and things in the house stable and gone out to visit some friends.

The smell of food brought him back to the present. He strapped on his belt and bone bastard sword and followed his nose. An old fat dwarven woman greeted him. He greeted her back in accented dwarven and sat down to eat. "What you gonna feed me today, Lale?" The old dwarf snorted, "Ye need something to flesh out them scrawny bones of yours." She almost spat the next words, "Bet ye, that elven harlot took the rest of yer money, didn't she?"

The warrior smiled at this seemingly old game, "I told you, Lale. They are food for the soul, food for the soul." Koreth picked up a thorny, pale fruit and proceeded to tear a piece of it. He gingerly popped it into his mouth; his face frowned almost as quick. "What are you feeding me, woman?" Lale burst out laughing and in between managed to add, "They be grall cacti but ye are not supposed to eat it raw… ye have to cook it with kank honey."

Koreth picked up a piece of bread loaf made with blue bulis berries which was what drew his nose in the first place and left the dwarven woman to her laughter. A slight spring in his step betrayed his confidence and his strong, young body was already erasing any sign of the hangover; although his stomach hadn't stopped belching, it was at least a lot better tasting. He usually kept to the backstreets but the crowd gathered in the main plaza drew his attention…

* * *

Surprise was quickly taken over by a keen hunter instinct as the halfling swiftly drew his bone dagger. The beautifully carved weapon glinted a dull white in the hands of the small hunter. The mul raised his carrikal as two more guards quickly appeared by his side. "Oh, no ye don't, ye little animal, I ain't yer dinner." There was a sudden flurry of movement and yells filled the air. A crowd of small children literally swept away the halfling far away from the mul as another equally large crowd surrounded the guards. Blows were haphazardly dealt but none hit their mark as the agile kids dodged them aside; the guards were not that interested in hurting them. Taq'Nak'Raq started to struggle to free himself and had almost succeeded when he abruptly stopped trying. He released two youngsters that he was somehow holding on to without conscious thought. He let himself be guided by the children as he carefully put away his tooth-dagger back in its sheath.

"No, ye mustn't fight with big guards. Ye has to look hungry and poor and plead, like this" The statement was issued by a small child who promptly proceeded to theatrically show him. The child's imitation was followed by many giggles from his audience and even Tak smiled. The halfling let the children enjoy their brief respite in their harsh lives but he still could not comprehend why this large tribe did not feed its young; could they not see how weak they were as a whole? It was all so different, no one cared for these children, some tribe members enjoyed food when others went hungry, why it was like having feast and not inviting all the clan members. The halfling had tried to show these children what he knew but quite frankly there wasn't any game to hunt nearby. He then tried living their way, begging and pleading for food… these past few days had been hard lessons for Tak and he was ready for something else.

The halfling left the children as always but he knew that he would not come back tomorrow. He would go to his current home and pick up his few belongings and head out to another city. His elders had told him that Tyr was the first city he would encounter but there were many others in the "drylands". He had been staying in the back of an inn, in its stable among the animals. These he could trust and understand, animals did not get their fill and let their young go hungry like the bigfolks did, it was all so strange and new to him.

The sun was on its ascending path and his bare feet left imprints in the dusty streets that he did not care to cover when he heard the crowd. It wasn't the first time that this had happened, the place looked to be where the big folks had their tribe meetings but everyone was allowed to attend. Today, he decided to listen in…