Migdalia started speaking again, the little girl in her was sobbing now. "Our party…we was three of us…but we was surprised and…we, Lirón and me, we just run away…we can't go back to our tribe…not like this. Aitaa was taken prisoner and is…probably suffering…if she is still alive…" The elven boy cuddled the sorceress in his arms much like an older brother. Lirón's face turned hard as Migdalia faltered, "We are going to their lair to try and rescue her…" the boy bit back his pride and continued, "…and we could use your help. I don't know where my tribe is at the moment but once I find them, it will be too late. Besides, we can't go back and tell them we run away. No! we must rescue her or what's left of her or die trying…"

Ptellac was the first to speak, "I sympathize with you but I am not a warrior to go rescuing nor do I have the adventurous spirit as some of these here do. A long trip is fine but not a rescuing attempt. Besides I must warn my village about this right away. I know the way but perhaps someone can accompany me… if the group decides to go. I imagine the nest to be small much like the temple we were just through where Chit almost did not even fit. Maybe the kreen can come with me and wait for you at the village…"

Impressed at these desert peoples' knowledge of the hunt and the feast, Tak’s hostility towards the elves diminishes. Still licking his fingers of scrab juice, the halfling nods his head in agreement as the elves highlight their trials thus far in their journey to recover their friend.

"These scrabs did not seem to like you long-legged ones much at all," Tak’ notes, his tone grave, "and if your friend Aitaa has not been eaten already, I would fear for her safety."

"Still," Tak’ says, tilting his head to get a better view of the two elves, "I understand your desire to act; for the faintest glimmer of hope is worth death a thousand times over - or at least among my people," he adds with a smile, pleased that the messages and lessons of his elders are still clear in his mind.

Deliberating for a moment, Tak’ slaps both of his small hands on his knees and stood up, "it is our duty to assist you. You first involved yourself in our skirmish with the scrabs earlier - risking your own life for us. We are therefore in your debt."

"If you wish me to come with you I will, for the halfling laws of clan and travel are not taken lightly by me. The others," Tak’ says, waving his hand in the direction of his companions, "I cannot speak for."

Koreth sat away from the two elves, his eyes still occasionally seeking out both of them. He had his sword across his lap, sharpening it carefully. The claws of the scrabs had left a few nicks in his blade. Empty cloth wrappings from his rations lay beside him, he had chosen not to partake of the scrab meat or the soup. <How can they stand to eat that...> Koreth thinks as they slurp up the soup, grating on his nerves
and noble upbringing <Scrabs eat elves, elves eat scrabs. How ironic.> As Tak' volunteers to help, Koreth's eyes grow gray. He stops sharpening his blade, and looks over angrily at the halfling. "Who cares if they helped us in battle! The bugs stole their friend, probably ate her!" Koreth clenches his hand on his sword hilt "We still have our duty, I'll not abandon it just to run off and save some lanky legged scrab fodder!"

The young elven warrior made it clear that there was no lost love between him and Koreth and growled, "How dare you talk about our kin like that. Granted, she was not known to you but I wouldn't want to wish that fate upon anyone." The elf relaxed a bit and continued in a mocking tone. "Don't come with us, maybe the sight of your own blood scares you...who knows? Maybe I shall be so lucky so as to see the insectmen feast upon you?"

Lirón combed back his dirty blond mane with both hands and added in a haughty tone, "You are not in your city any longer nor are you protected by your people here? Here...this is elven country you are in. We, the Bird Runner tribe, call this home so you'd do best to not only watch your tongue but also your back. I would teach you a thing or two about elven blades but I have to save my strength for something worthwhile. When was the last time you did something like that?" Lirón made no aggressive movement towards anyone but his confidence showed him ready for business should this go any further.

Tak’ shrugs - not expecting any others in the party to be quite as committed to their principles - "I care Koreth. For better or worse we were given assistance by these two, and I am as duty-bound to return this aid as you are to continue."

"They wouldn't have helped us if they weren't out looking for revenge," Koreth snorts, sneering over at the two young elves "you can go on in ignorance, but I'll not get knifed in the dark by either of these two whelps!"

Tak’ looks intently at Koreth, trying to figure out if Koreth is just being aggressive towards the elves, or really has conviction in what he says. "I will go with the elves, and will make my way to Lost Scale as soon as I am able. Unless I die in the attempt," Tak’ says, seemingly unconcerned at the possibility of dying in the course of duty, "I will only be a short time behind you."

Lirón smiles and pats the halfling in the back still not used to the big difference in height between the two. He speaks to the whole group but eyes Koreth intently, "Here is a man of great stature. He knows what is good to eat and has a heart beating loudly in his chest. He is more hurt than some of you but still shows no fear. I wish to know your people, Tak'. I am sure they prosper at whatever they do if they are as proud and determined as you."

Tak’ frowns a bit as Lirón’s large hand ruffles his hair. <I may be child-like in the eyes of man and elf, but to be treated like one?> "My people are indeed proud and determined tall one," Tak’s says, the beginnings of a wicked smile forming on his lips, "and our cooking is even more adventurous than yours!"

The elven sorceress silently bows her head to Tak and announces, "Thank you and to make it worth yer while, I am sure that 'e bloated kank-smelling queen has taken some treasure with her. The scrab's keep the items from their victims in the queen's chambers or so we was told. We could all split that evenly after we 'terminate 'em."

"Watch your back and your belongings," Koreth cautions "and perhaps we will meet again in lost scale." He turns his attention back to his nicked sword and the whetstone in his hand. <Fool halfling! Those two are up to no good, I can smell it!> Koreth thinks to himself as he works on his blade, the scratches and nicks disappearing slowly <Only a fool trusts a Crodlu's health, a whore's promise or an elf's words! What proof have they provided? None. Lying, lanky legged thieves!> His hand stops. A sudden realization comes to the noble warrior.

"Blood and bloody ashes! If you are so serious about this, I will go." Koreth says, his eyes falling on the two elves "if only to watch those two. But if anything of mine comes up missing, I'll have their finger bones for dice!"

Tak’ tries in vain to hide a grin, having suspected all along that - despite his anger - the noble warrior would not leave the well-being of his comrades by the wayside. With a dignified bow, Tak’ bites back his grin and says curtly, "my thanks to you Koreth, your presence and sword are appreciated."

Koreth snorts, a mocking smile on his lips. He inspects his well-sharpened blade, satisfied with his work and speaks to Lirón again. "I've killed more of your kind than I have fingers to count elf, you wouldn't even challenge me." he boasts rather loudly "Pah!" he muttered as he eyed both of the elves again "I don't see why those scrabs go for elves anyways...."

<Sure of yourself elfling?> Koreth thinks, taking a small swallow from his skin <you'd stand less a chance than those bloody scrabs.> He mutters a few choice words under his breath, having baited the poor elves enough already. Koreth stalks over to where he has arrayed his pack and blanket. He tosses his blade on top of his pack, admiring the dwarven designs sewn into the red blanket. <You always know were you stand with a dwarf> Koreth thinks as he sits down <always>

Mendi approached the young elven warrior, and signaled him to walk with him. When they were some paces from the camp, the older elf spoke in his native elven tongue, "Lirón, once again, I must warn you. Koreth has his own reasons to distrust elves, so don't try his temper. Nothing will stop his quick blades if you go beyond what he can take. He is a courageous warrior and a loyal companion; don't waste your life, for you would learn the hard way how good a warrior he is. Besides, I respect him, and I'm not happy seeing my kin chiding him, so please don't offend him any more. Should you know him better, you would learn why he distrusts us, and this is a sad tale. But please don't push him to far!"

Mendi then left the younger elf alone to ponder what he had said, and went back to the camp. There, he tried to speak to Koreth, but the young noble was obviously not in any mood to talk, so he left him alone.

Back in the camp, Tak’ sits looking at the stars as they slowly fade into view against the darkening blanket of sky. He could see the formations of his far-off ancestors, those brave halflings of legend who had ascended into the heavens, to look down on Gaea and their kin, keeping them safe with their presence and their memory.

There was Tic’a’Wek the Green, the Druid of the entire Forest Ridge. He alone kept the verdant and lush rainforest safe from the reign of the Dragons champions. His star burned bright this season.

There was Gwi’Ti’Rek the Wise, the chieftain who led her tribe across the mountains and then back again - declaring the Tyrian basin to be wasteland, desecrated by the tall people and their leeching magics. She then led her tribe for one hundred uninterrupted years, dispensing wise judgements for all that sought them.

Koreth sits cross-legged upon his blanket giving one last glance at the fire and the two elves. His gaze lingers on the girl, but only briefly. Gazing intently at the angular design of the blanket, Koreth relaxes his sore muscles. His breath slows, and he closes his eyes. He searches his mind, trying to remember what Tak' had taught him. Focusing, he tries to summon up an image. A vague humanoid shape begins to form, very slowly taking on the features of an elf. The shape becomes more and more distinct, as Koreth tries to fill it with his will. The elf began to glow with his will, but quickly shattered as a bead of sweat broke his concentration. <Bloody ashes!> he cursed <I'll never get this bloody thing right!> He shrugs, and once again closes his eyes....

Looking down from the stars - he saw Koreth struggling. Looking a bit harder, he figured out what he was trying to do - shape his Will. But presently it was a futile task, with emotion clouding his concentration. While anger could be directed in the mindscape to create powerful harbingers - for the unschooled it was a distraction. Still - Tak’ would not offer assistance unless it was asked for. The student learns best when seeking knowledge for themselves...

Elric looks to the south where Lost Scale lays over the distant landscape. "Ptellac this is you region, how far from here to Lost Scale?" Turning to face the group a shrewd look in his eye, the warlock speaks in a
tone very similar to that of Mendi "If we are close enough and if indeed these scrabs pose such a threat to the village, would there be a reward offered by your community for the destruction of the scrab nest?"

Hearing the young warrior imitating him, Mendi couldn't help but chuckle softly. Before Ptellac had answered, Mendi went to Elric's side, and patted him on the shoulder smiling fondly, and while winking, "You are true to our kin blood, friend Elric! I know I could make a trader out of you!"

The pterran looked surprised from his scrab meal, he still smacked his lips on the insect's meat although the pterran was courteous enough to sit away from Chit. He didn't want the kreen watching him eat the insectmen specially since he was looking to a long trip alone with the druid. "Elric, my people would not pay for this but would actually help you eradicate it. Our contact with the scrabs has been with erratic hunting parties not a potential nest that could seriously threaten our village. I have heard the ptop worm riders tell their tale." His eyes roll towards the twin moons as if remembering; they really stood out white and large in the firelight. "I reckon we are about three to four days to my village, normal walking time." I could rouse a pterran hunting party but that will take a while to actually get to the scrab nest."

Ptellac’s smooth words spoken with confidence left the young warlock baffled. "Oh…Well that hunting party does sound like a good idea. Of course your village would have regular patrols. We may need the patrol's healer. They should get there in time to see us safely back to your village after we clear out the scrab nest." Elric, lost in thought, wanders back to his pack, tossing some raw scraps to the tagster cub. Sitting among his water skins and packs, the young warlock pulls out his scroll case. Looking up once "But…", shaking his head Elric pulls out his map and begins to carefully add his daily notes.

Migdalia cut in and in a soft whisper added, "We don't have much time that we don't have. We was surprised yesterday and we have been traveling south ever since. Lirón can track the scrabs to their foul nest. We...have seen it." The young elven warrior lifted his gaze from his meal, "Aye, I can take us there, it is about half a day south of here and then half a day east into the barrens. We have watched the nest for some time, that is how we know about the young queen and other details."

Ptellac continued, "It is settled then. I will head straight to my village with Chit and wait for you there. Just follow the barrens edge straight south and I will make sure you are found by our patrols. Does anyone else want to come with me?

The whole group looked up towards the pterran and more than one of them wanted to go to the village and rest for a while but they all felt the duty they had acquired from Tyr and although clearing the path for caravans was not one of them; marking and identifying the dangers certainly was. No one answered but their leader soon broke the silence.

Gaigin shook his head from his spot near the fire. A couple of days away from their goal, only a few days after nearly losing their lives in some ancient ruins, and already they were ready to throw away their lives again. Ah well, if they were gonna throw themselves down a bug-hole, who was he to interrupt with wisdom. Besides, there was a good cause. Looking up, Gaigin grabbed a water-skin, took a sip, and nodded.

"We'll go, but not out of friendship or a sense of honor. Way I see it, we made it possible fer you two to kill creatures you hate with a passion. We did ye a favor, though you both were useful to us as well. No debt is owed there, of any kind. We go because it is our job to clear a route from Tyr to the Pterran village, and these scrabs obstruct that route. We will help each other in this, but know that, to us, our job comes before yer friend. It may be cruel, but that's the way it is."

Gaigin turns to Tak, shrugging slightly. "You may feel ye owe them, and that's yer choice, o' course, but we have a mission, which must come before yer honor if need be. If you must chose between honor and duty, I'll trust you to make the right decision."

Tak’ frowns, aware that what he deals with is a tricky situation - his races’ and won beliefs against those of his companions. Thinking for a short while - his brow lined with concentration, Tak’ looks up at Gaigin, speaking slowly - not wanting to be misheard or misunderstood, "there is not any choice to be made Gaigin - for honor and duty are intertwined. I have given myself to work for the people of Tyr - but I cannot forget who I am, and what I am expected by my people to do."

Ayrus listened to the discussion with casual indifference. The prospect were once more of violence and fight... he wondered what to do, go to Lost Scale or go with those new friends. He decided to meditate on the subject later, while praying for his spells and communing with the winds. The air cleric looked at his companions, and he saw that more than one had suffered in the last fight. He was weak himself, but he was soon able to call on the force of the wind. A small breeze enveloped him, and his wounds were soon lessened. The half-elf then went to Elric, and touched the warlock's bloodied arm. As before, a small breeze blew over the wound, which soon looked nicer than before. The warlock felt better, but he was still weak.

"I'll follow Gaigin's decision," said Aryus to the group, "but for now, I must meditate and search wisdom with the winds..." The windmage then found a quiet place, and prayed the winds, happy to feel the soft caress of the winds. Aryus then re learns his wizards spells.

Gaigin turns back to the elves. "We leave in the morning to save yer friend and kill the scrabs. I have only one condition." Gaigin pauses and grins. "I lead. Fer whatever bloody reason, I was chosen leader, and I'll not have either of you making a choice that endangers the Pack in a crucial situation. I'm not asking ye to join the pack, our goals are not the same, but when we are together, you defer to me. If this is a problem, yer on yer own, and best of luck to ye both. We could as easily go with Ptellac, gather his warriors, and attack on our own with a much better chance of living, but, fool that I am, I'm gettin' soft hearted." Gaigin looks at Tak' and Elric, shaking his head. "Must be the company I keep. I want to help ye save yer friend if I can, but until I know I kin trust ye, I'll be requirin' yer words of honor." Gaigin pauses again, "Elven oaths mind, I'll trust ye with no other, that ye will follow us." Gaigin sips his skin again, sits back, and waits.

The elven boy smiles, his free spirit soaring the skies when the decision is made. "Good, you won't regret this and the way I see it, you will kill two birds with one stone. As for oaths..." The elf gets up looking incredibly tall and thin in the dark just as Migdalia gathers her robes about her and joins him. One hand on their heart and another palm down towards the group. "We are elves and by the blood that runs in our veins shall we not betray you in any way for as long as our paths go together. This I pledge to all."The boy turns to Koreth, "And you, nobleman. We shall call a truce until this is over and we again meet up in the wilds."

"We will also do our best to aid you in any way even to the extent of introducing you to our tribe. Should you ever go north of here then you can count on us for help."

Both youths sit down again elated and excited at the prospect of scrab hunting. "And Gaigin you will continue to be leader. I will not question your wisdom but perhaps we shall discuss tomorrow when we travel the best way to invade the nest. We have fought scrabs before out in the open but have never been inside their lair. We will need a plan."

Gaigin nodded and turned to Ptellac. "Looks like me language lessons'll be cut short. Go to yer village
with all speed, leave at dawn. Bring as many warriors as ye can muster, and as many healers as ye've got. Take Chit' with you; he will suffer inside the scrab's nest much more than any of us.

The pterran smiles at the ex-caravan guard, "Aye it looks like it but you have fared well thus far. I take it the group will spend a few days at the village. There is no hurry to get back right away. Besides, it is part of your duty to get to know us since you will advise the traders who will be coming over. I will make sure that you all see a good deal of our lives and you can continue with your language learning."

"As far as warriors, I can muster up a large force if need be and also healers but I do not see the point since that force will take at least four to five days to reach you even if I ask the pterran pterrax riders to fly over. By that time, you will have...succeeded." The pterran swallowed loudly and never said what he was thinking <or been killed and eaten>. "Perhaps if there was a way that someone can 'tell' me how your outing went and if you needed help before I actually send it. I know my village masters of the Way can do that." The saurian looks at the group and asks, "Do any of you have this potential for communicating over long distances?"

Mendi smiles and states, "Aye, I can do that but you must know me and let me in. Otherwise my power is useless. We will practice before you go so you can recognize my harbringer and trust me. That way, we can communicate and I will keep you up to date as to what is going on and you will tell me how you are faring with Chit. I won't do it often since it taxes my energy and I need to keep it; the insectmen broke into my mind once and I can assure you, it was not a pleasant experience by any means." (DM note: Sorry about answering for you Vincent but I think you missed my queue and it may be important for roleplaying later on.)

Gaigin looks over to where Koreth sat glaring at the elves, and shook his head. Leaning over, he spoke easily in dwarven.

Gaigin shrugs and grins, "Ye seem to have a tougher hide than mine, two battles without a scratch. Either yer lucky, or yer better then most. Either way, yer sword'll be needed down that bug hole." Gaigin gestures towards the elves. "I don't trust 'em either, elven oath or no, but fact is we need them. Without 'em we'd be in the wastes forever looking fer the bug-hole. We may have to risk our own necks saving theirs, because we need 'em. If you don't think ye can do that, act to save their scrawny necks if ye have to, then ye should go with Ptellac. I'd rather ye came, though. Tak's bound by honor, Elric's far too good-hearted, and Mendi is kin o' their. Fact is, if we have to put the mission above their friend, you are the only one I can count on completely." Gaigin glances back towards the elves and grins widely, "Besides. That young elf lad seems a touch arrogant and overconfident. Someone has to teach the young fool how Tyrian's fight." Gaigin leans back and gnaws on a piece of erdlu.

Koreth smiles at Gaigin's praise, he was wondering himself how he had managed to escape two battles in a row without so much as a scratch. It made him feel invincible. "I'll go." Koreth replies in accented dwarven "if only to keep an eye on those two. I don't trust either of them. Blood and ashes, I barely trust Mendi!" He glances over at the two elves, his eyes still gray. Truce or no truce, he would watch them both carefully. "You can trust me Gaigin, I'll do what needs to be done to finish our mission."

He takes a small sip from his skin, "Aye, two battles. Crel would be proud." He moves his gaze back to Gaigin. "I'd have to agree with you about that elf whelp. He's got more bark than he does teeth, and I can
see him dragging the rest of us into trouble because of it. I'll show that lanky legged braggart how a Tyrian fights, elf blades indeed!" He lifts his skin and takes a small swallow.

LATER

Despite the exhaustion, Mendi managed to recreate a small, shady garden in the Mindscape. His dulled psychic image laid in the shade of the trees, Mendi rested, and recovered his lost strength. Soon, or so it seemed, his mind was once again filled with the glorious power of the Way.

"Tomorrow - we will hunt scrabs. But tonight - I must rest," gingerly sitting himself down near Chit-Zik, careful not to rub his burns into the harsh sand, Tak’ coughs a little to attract the thri-kreen’s attention.

Bowing his head slightly, in a gesture of respect, Tak’ seems somewhat embarrassed at what he must ask for, "Chit-Zik, Gaea has blessed you with much of her goodness, and it seems now that such goodness is sorely needed. I am still aching and sore from the foul fires of the defiler, and am afraid that my own talents to heal myself are almost exhausted." Looking up at the insect-man towering above him, Tak’ asks, "can you help me Chit-Zik?"

The druid calls upon the powers of Athas itself and provides much needed assistance to Tak. The kreen heals himself as well and provides Gaigin with some curing as well. Rayne is also hurt as well and turns to her own powers for some healing. She calls over Elric, the other pincushion, and goes about mending his wounds as well.

As the evening cools, Elric finds himself going over the ever-increasing number of problems before him. The two most pressing issues, the ones taking up most of his free time, have been the mysterious power of Tempest and the growing tagster cub. There was of course the matter of the two elves but that it would seem had taken care of itself. With the coming of dawn, the Pack would seek to aid the pair of elves as well as fulfill it’s own ends.

The cub was recovering surprisingly well, given its harsh condition a short time past. It would run for longer and longer periods of time. Its graceful stride eating up the distance through the desert. Long Elric would watch the young cub at these times and marvel at how such a young being could command such presence. The tagster, born to the desert and danger, had handled the last two battles well enough staying out of the way protecting Elric’s discarded packs. The soft rumbles of the tagster's anger could be heard through both battles. Still the young warlock worried for the young cub. The tagster was not meant to be hand fed but was a born hunter. Elric looks down to the cub and gives himself a mental reminder to speak to the others to find information they have about tagsters and their ways.

With the coming battle, Elric felt the mounting pressure to unlock the secrets of Tempest. Softly bringing his mind to rest, the warlock reviews all the knowledge gained in regards to the sword. Moments pass as he bends his mind to the task. Eyes coming open suddenly, Elric is half up before he even realizes he is moving. Scanning the campsite quickly shows his destination. The two elves glance about looking for danger. While the members of the Pack shake their heads, ‘The young warlock is at it again’ passes through more than one mind.

Elric looks down at the meditating halfling. – Hmm, This is an unexpected delay – Kneeling across from Tak’, the warlock draws forth Tempest. The sword exits the scabbard smoothly, the light of the fire dancing along its blade. Placing the sword between himself and Tak, Elric seeks his focus and waits.

Before laying down beneath his blanket, Tak’ stretched his body - skin still tender from the fires of the defiler, and bruises still aching on his side from the brutal Sand Shark attack.

Reaching into his Mindscape, Tak’ retired to his favorite glade. Everything was peaceful, and the halfling master let this peace and tranquillity work its way into his wounds. While the effort to maintain this place was considerable, the rewards were worthwhile.

The burnt skin on Tak’s back started to heal - turning from a blistered red into a dull pink. Satisfied with his efforts, Tak’ lay down to sleep - knowing that we was in much better shape than previously.

As Tak’ begins to stir from his meditation, Elric straightens and takes on a very serious contingency. Tak' opens his eyes to see Elric kneeling before him formally. From his kneeling position, the warlock bows fully before Tak’. Returning to a kneeling position, back rigid, hands upon thighs. "Tak’Nak’ Raq I bow before your wisdom. I seek the knowledge of your people. The sword Tempest has long defied my attempts to learn its secrets. Through long meditation I found what I believed to be the answer. I was wrong, though now I see again through open eyes. I was wrong in part but not the whole. The Rune I based my command on was from my knowledge, but the Sigil was only a newer manifestation of an ancient Rune. This ancient Rune comes from the same place the sword has come, Halfling History. The Connecting Rune, the one which will release the hidden strength of Tempest must be the original, not the derived." Elric bends forward drawing in the sand a large circular Rune, with markings in its center. "This is the Rune as I know it, the derived. I inquire onto you any knowledge you may have of the original Halfling Rune." The young warlock again bows fully before Tak. Returning to his kneeling position, "I humbly await your leisure."

Tak’ smiles a little at Elric's bowing and gesturing. <The intent was right> Tak’ thought, <and with time he could learn the proper etiquette>.

"I am pleased you have come to me Elric," Tak’s says, "knowledge should always be sought, and given freely. Now we have both of those conditions fulfilled. I have a few thought of my own regarding Tempest
and I will share them with you now." Tak’ signals for Elric to sit next to him.

"How to tell this to you?" Tak’ says, one of his small hands rubbing his chin in thought, "Perhaps it would be best to let you understand by yourself. Place Tempest on the earth and tell me what you see."

Elric thinks for a moment, knowing that Tak’ was testing him in some way, "I see a sword," he says slowly, unsure of what the halfling is after.

Tak’ nods to continue, and Elric thinks again, "the sword was forged long ago, imbued with magic."

Again Tak’ nods, smiling. Elric continues, getting into things. Laying out his hypothesis, Elric states "I see a sword, made of steel and power. The power of halflings long ago flows through the runes upon it."

Tak’ raises his hand for Elric to stop, and then places the Life Dagger next to Tempest. The organic dagger, pummel made of stone, blade made of horn, lay next to the metal sword, its blade reflective as a mirror, the blue jewel centerpiece sparkling in the firelight. The difference was striking.

"Tempest is not living!" Elric cried out, realizing now that what he dealt with was either dead simple - a plain metal sword - or unusual in the extreme.

Tak’ nods, pleased that Elric had picked up on his exact thoughts, "halflings have never toiled in the mountains for iron. All our tools and weapons are made of what we find in the forests. Our ancestors were able to use such things much better than we can do now. They shaped life, while we merely shape dead things - like wood and bone."

"Tempest was not forged by halfling hands. This is the first mystery - which I shall return to after speaking of the runes," Tak’ says, pointing to the elaborate etching on the swords handle.

"The runes on it are similar to those I have seen our village elders use. We are primarily an oral people - relying on our voices to carry our thoughts and history. As such," Tak’ says with a disappointed shrug, "I have not been schooled in reading them."

"But from what I have summarized, our ancestors used runes - mainly as pictures of what they represented. Over time they became more abstract. To understand Tempest, a blade of some age," Tak’ says, raising his finger before his face and lightly shaking it for emphasis, "it might be best to look for literal meaning - What does the Rune look like?"

"Steel - our next question. Who then would forge a blade from steel, and also work with halflings to imbue it with power? I know of no precedents among the history of my tribe." Tak’ says honestly - and a bit too brutally. Elric slumps a bit, brought down after the progress the two had been making.

Tak’ smiles and adds, "do not be disheartened Elric - for the rarity of this blades’ construction will be a boon in researching it. Find an outsider with the knowledge of metal-working who worked with halflings in ancient history, and you will have found Tempests’ maker."

"Any thought to add Elric?" Tak' asks, interested in what the young half-elf had to say after their discussion.

The warlock breathes deeply and states, "All of your words have rung true. I was too quick to judge. I saw the easy answer and did not look beyond it. Tempest is not a living blade such as all other ancient halfling creations. I find that I worry. The sword was taken from one of the twins in the living structure. I had thought one of the renegades had picked it up from elsewhere in the structure to be used by the twins. What if it was a creation of the twins? They were in somehow connected with the ancient halflings. In any case I have been given much to think on."

MORNING

The sun had not yet risen - but the years of leaving before dawn to hunt had attuned Tak’ to waking early. Stretching his tired muscles, his wiry body contorting through a range of exotic maneuvers, Tak’ found peace in activity, warming his body up before the rigors of the day.

They woke up early as soon as the sun had risen over the mountains. The dawn was red as if predicting some sort of bloodshed for its day but then again every dawn was red in Athas and everyday there was more than a little bloodshed. Ptellac and Chit made quick arrangements putting together their gear and splitting up some of their food; there was still some erdlu meat and the saurian had smuggled a couple of long slices of scrab meat into his bag as well.

"See you soon in Lost Scale! The call of the blood and our debt towards these two ask me to go, but I'm looking forward for the moment we discover your home town! I may even miss Chit! Travel well and swiftly, and may you always find shade and water!"

Chit went around wishing everyone luck on their hunt and cursing his big size more than once that hindered his participation in the bug hole. The kreen druid had prayed to Athas´ spirits during the night and had replenished his curing spells. He went about and healed himself one more time mending all torn and ripped chitin plates and since Ptellac was not wounded, he went about to see where his services might be worth administering. Gaigin had one too many bandages and one of his wounds in particular was a nasty rip that impeded his movements in battle. Chit carefully pried the dirty bandage loose and infused the wound with holy energy giving it new life. After checking the rest of the members, it was noticed by everyone that the only other person who needed the most help was Mendi, the elf who never really got along with the druid; just tolerated him.

But Mendi had never held back any of his skills with the druid so Chit went about healing those two mysterious puncture wounds that the elf sported in his torso. Much relieved by the kreen's magic, Mendi silently thanked the druid. Chit took him in a four-armed embrace that to outsiders might have looked like a death grip; especially if the would have seen the elf's face that displayed utter terror. The feel of sharp chitin all over his body just was not…comfortable.

Short good-byes done with, the duo sped along south bordering the barrens never leaving the sharp rocks out of their sight. The two travelers would have a pretty easy trip if they kept within the scrublands but Athas was never easy on anyone. The rest of the group had a much grimmer job to do; they would have to storm an enemy's lair. An enemy that commanded the Way, was expert in ambushes and had beings that worked magic albeit the one that sucked the life out of plants and soil but so much the deadlier. The group's experience boiled down to one battle with the insectmen and the babbling of two young desert runners whose judgement was tainted by their desire of revenge. Weren't their appraisals of the situation much lighter and less deadlier than normal? Did they really know what they were talking about or was their judgement marred by the burning thirst for revenge? All good questions that were circling the more cold-blooded thinkers of the pack, certainly its leader and a couple of other as well.

Shaking off the chill of the pre-dawn air, Tak’ feathered his spear and circled the campsite - looking for signs of any disturbances or tracks. The halfling was keen to know what, if anything had passed the group by in the night.

But also more importantly, Tak’ was looking for specific tracks - those of multi-legged insects - Scrabs. With a trail, Tak’ had a scent. And with a scent, Tak’ went hunting...

Lirón checked his gear one last time; his long, blond hair was still disheveled and tangled. The boy had tied it back into a single braid unlike the sorceress who kept her long, black hair loose behind her back. The elven boy neared Tak and hunched over the scrublands marking the soil with a stick. "They look somewhat like this. Similar to large serpents' tracks but the edges were broken. My tribe's best trackers say they look like megapede's tracks; only much closer together but I haven't seen any of those large beasts." The boy straightens out and shades his eyes with his hands looking south." We keep the sun on our left for a while and then at high soon or so, we head straight east as if going to the mountains."

Shortly after a quick bite to eat, the group headed out and made good pace heading down south. The two elves led the party with their long strides along with Mendi. The elf peddler had a strange urge to take out the large gem found inside the sandshark's stomach and look into its depth. The elf barely contained his urges but decided to take a closer look at it once he had a chance (DM note: Vincent, let me know when that happens). The elves were trailed by the rest of the group; a half-elf with a detached, aloof look about himself, another half-elf half-carrying, half-prodding a small cat along, a female mul carrying a halfling on her back and two human warriors who conversed long amongst themselves. The party would miss the kreen druid and pterran but would meet up with them in the near future hopefully for some rest and relaxation in the saurian's village. The travel was pretty light without any surprises other than the increased vegetation and fauna in the land; they even got glimpse of a migratory flock of birds flying in formation breaking the olive-tinged sky.

Right about at high sun, Lirón stopped and signaled for everyone to head out towards the mountains. The strange group struck out into the stony barrens and the furnace the rocks provided. Everyone checked again to make sure their waterskins were full and not leaking and silently cursed as the vegetation grew less and less abundant to disappear among the sharp rocks. Patches of orange-red sheets of stone littered by pointy stones and rocks of all sizes tried their best to trip and cut unaware travelers. Brave, solitary cacti stumps that sprouted from amongst the sheet of exposed bedrock dotted the landscape. Tak jumped off Rayne and made his way cautiously trying to step on the piled dust the wind had stripped of the land. Drawing in breath was painful as the heat seared the lungs; the group paced themselves so as to breathe in slowly cooling the air before it blistered their insides.

The harsh environment did nothing to lessen the effect of the sight of the land the heroes now made their way through. The sharp rocks were still there but the cacti were gone from this part. The patch was clearly distinguishable from the rest of the barrens because of its color. A thin film of gray, black ash covered the land as far as the eye could see. The dust piled between the nooks and crannies of the bedrock was the same lifeless ash that the defiler had brought about in the heroes' last fight. Tak picked up a handful of it and smelled the ash. His eyes watered as he stated, "It smells bitter and terrified as if someone had murdered it."

The mood brought about by the sight daunted everyone's spirits and they all looked towards the elven boy silently asking where the lair was. Surely, the defilers must work near their nest. The elf's face did not portray the sadness seen in his companion; instead there was a murderous look about him that even made Koreth think twice about this cocky young fighter. "No, the lair is still quite a distance. The defilers go outside from their nest to practice their arts. No more talking from now on, we are getting near." The elf looked towards Koreth and stated, "Please try and be quiet, you make more noise than blind mekillot stumbling about." The boy smiled and the heroes could not really tell if he was serious or not. Before anyone could say anything, the elf was carefully making his way east interning himself deeper into the barrens.

A few more hours later before the sunset, the boy raised his hand and called Tak over. He silently pointed towards the ground, the defiled land had ben left behind and the dust covering the rock was again orange-red. The sheet of stone they were standing on was an orange sandstone and as such was softer that the rest. Etched clearly on the rock were marking that told the fact that scrabs had passed by; moreover it marked a path straight to the lair. The elf gathered everyone around him and warned them, "The nest entrance is mile or so away from here. It is marked by a clump of rock and its entrance is on the northern side. We have watched them for quite some time now and we can estimate no more than two dozen of the insectmen living in the nest. They have moved in recently and are probably still digging their lair so there maybe quite a few drones inside working. We have seen only two hunting parties thus far and one is no more. We have all killed them together."

The elven boy softly smiles towards Migdalia and adds, "I don't know what is inside but Pitaas, an old elf within the tribe has escaped from a scrab nest…or so he says. We can expect a queen's chamber and a prisoner's chamber. The rest of the lair is made up of food storage, a larvae chamber and chambers for the workers and hunting parties. I would guess that since the nest is new, we can expect no more than ten rooms in all and, like I said, no more than two dozen of the critters. Still we cannot just walk in there…we need some sort of plan, diversion or something like that…"

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

Gaigin (SiW)

Mendi (SiW)

Rayne (SiW)

Ayrus (H)

Koreth (H)

Tak (SiW)

Elric (H)

Male elf (SiW)

Female elf (H)

GENERAL

I hope all can participate in this turn so we can discuss some sort of strategy for the group in storming the lair. That should keep the turn full this time.

Questions, comments, and suggestions please.

L8r,

Fabian