The half giant started drooling and he babbled something incoherent while his eyes darted to and fro. The trader quickly moved to his side, "Quiet now, no need to get upset." The silver tongued trader looked at the adamant group over once again and addressed Rayne one last time, "Think it over girl, nothing but death awaits you with this group, I offer you food, shelter and life, your skills were starting to show. The first time out and this is your gratitude…"

Rayne looks at him even harder if that were possible, "I've already spoken, my blade will speak next if ye didn't hear it right the first time…" Outraged the trader leaves, his eyes never leaving the group, "I shall see you all on my own turf next time."

The group watches as the two torches reach and the traders join the rest of the group. The night is quiet as the torches slowly saunter towards the north where they are lost in the darkness…

Koreth watched the Stel trader and his diseased half-giant companion as they stalked back off to their camp. A large smug grin fills his face. <I don't know where you learned what you know about me trader, but blood and ashes I'll roast you on a spit if you trifle with me again!>

"Aye trader, we'll meet again...." Koreth turns back towards the comforting glow of the camp fire "but next time I'll bury my blade to the hilt in your guts. Pah!" The noble warrior spits into the fire, as if trying to rid himself of something distasteful. He looks over to Rayne, his expression softening.

"Don't worry too much about that bloody trader," Koreth consoles "we've all got some bad blood with those Stel bastards...you'll not be alone." He gives her a conspiratory wink, a boyish grin sweeping across his face.

Rayne continues to watch in the departing direction of the Stel party, even after the specs of torch light had faded from view. At Koreth's words, she comes back from her thoughts and returns his grin. Facing the group, the mul lowers her eyes humbly, "Thank ye all fer stickin' with me. I am blessed with yer

friendships."

Gaigin simply sighed as the Stel commander walked off into the night. That was going to be big trouble back in the city. The official trading delegation from Tyr had successfully alienated one of Urik's largest trading Houses. Worse over, outside of Tyr's jurisdiction, the Urikite was within his rights by Trader's Law to ask for Rayne back. Unless Rayne had brought harm to one of their company, Gaigin's Pack was required to hand her over as an escaped slave. Of course, it was a moot point, since the pack would've defended her against five times the odds they faced. Still, Gaigin couldn't help feeling he would live to regret this night.

"Damn but I'm going to regret letting you live to see the dawn, you bastard." Gaigin said under his breath, still glaring at the retreating backs of the traders. Without another word, Gaigin returned to sharpening the blade of his axe.

The warrior scraped off slight pieces of obsidian making the axe blade ever so sharper when a curse just erupts from his mouth, "Sour kank offal, 'tis not me lucky night!" He throws the axe to the ground as Rayne saunters over to see what hapenned. The ex-caravan guard picks up the weapon and shows it to the mul who was not new neither to weapons nor to obsidian. "look here, the bloody blade has a crack in it, see it right on this side." The mul grabs the blade and inspects slowly nodding in agreement, "Yeah but 'till hold out some, it can still cut if handled with care". Gaigin's face turns red with anger, he bites back his smart remark and simply adds, "Look at me woman, do I look like I fight with the finesse that the warlock posses. I am a man of hard and fast strikes, the blade will hold until I split over someone hard-headed like yerself." Rayne shrugs her shoulders and grins as both companions laugh it off in the night. (DM note: You will understand later.)

Mendi wanders over and voices his opinion on the Stel group: "For all I hate them, we both know that Tyr needs them, like them or not. Those bastards have a monopoly on many goods the Lion King sells and buys. How many times the trader's oath crept between a helpless Stel representative and me, sparring him a swift death... But for the better good of Tyr, we must stand them."

Aryus sighed in relief as the traders took their leave. Whether or not it was due to the blessing of his air magic or the threat of arms from his companions, he did not care as long as the hostile left them alone. Lowering his bow, Aryus adjusts his equipment and prepares to for camp again.

Tak' watched the display with the Stel trader, wary but sure of his own and his companions ability to protect themselves. <Surely, the tall-folk have much to learn. Urik and Tyr need to respect each other's customs - for without respect there can be only hostility>.

Shrugging as the two disappeared into the night Tak' knew that regardless of Gaigin's ominous words it was possible that no harm would come of it. "They have the sickness," Tak' mumbled to himself, "Gaea may take them into her belly..." The sun of Athas shone down, harsh and bright. It illuminated for all to see, the colorful and joyous, as well as the dark.

LATER THAT NIGHT

Rayne finds some comfort in the mindscape as she and Marteu relax by a pool of water in a cool oasis, surrounded by exotic green plants she noticed as "Gaigin's Pac" had traveled through Tak's homeland. Once awakened and refreshed, Master's word's began to echo through the mul's mind again. < . . ."nothing but death awaits you with this group . . .> Wiping her hand across her bald, tattooed head, she lets our a large sigh. Gathering Koreth and Gaigin together, Rayne sits and smiles. We need to heal and rest, I do not trust Master or the lot he travels with. We do not know what may be waiting for us on our remaining journey to Ptellac's village. Let us visit Marteu and heal some. Maybe we can spar some and tune our skills as the dawn breaks, before we are on our way again?" Rayne takes the three of them to Marteu's tent, where they relax as he tends their wounds. When her energy seems to be depleted, Rayne lets the others return, and journeys back to the oasis with Marteu - needing his comfort with the images of life with Master so recently flooding her memories.

The peddlar rummaged through his scavenged possession, sorting through chitin parts, bones, and other things he had found since he had met this motley group. Part of the things were beyond repair or use now, with all the fights they had gone through. Mendi also put his leather armor away, and scowled at the multiple gashes and slashes it had sustained. He reached for a needle and a knife, and tried to repair it the best he could with the various scavenged material. In the end, about two third of what the part of chitin armor, bones and other things were left on the 'usable' pile, and Mendi nodded, half satisfied.

As the camp returns to normal Elric sits by the low fire studying the pilfered spellbook. The warlock cautiously prepares himself to open the text. Placing the tome in front of him Elric sits comfortably in his meditative stance. With a wave of his hand he sends the tagster cub away. Insuring the energetic cub wouldn't playfully interrupt. Calling on the teachings of his mother, Elric calms his mind and body. Slowly he brings his focus to the spellbook. Reaching into one of his many pouches Elric pulls out a pinch of a powdery substance. Delicately sprinkling the powdered bone in a pentagram around the book Elric whispers soft words of magic. The powdered bone was the main component for a shield spell Elric had never completely mastered, he used it now in hopes of gaining some protection no matter how little against any counter spells placed on the book. Elric had studied some of the spells that could be placed on a spellbook, though he had never faced them directly yet. Of course he had luckily resisted the urge to look at his mother's spell books uninvited or he would have faced them and much to close for his comfort. With his mind prepared and what little protection he could gain in place, Elric reaches down and opens the
book.

The first spell was a small one, not even taking the whole page. Elric closely examines the flowing script as well as closely studying the entire page. Satisfied that the text was indeed the spell and there were no triggers on margins Elric continues. The young warlock could remember when he was even younger and in his mother tutelage. She had shown how in her own spellbook some pages where marked with triggers. If one did not read the trigger word before each spell word a phantasm would jump from the text and attack the unwary mage. Gathering his will Elric reaches out and softly touches the plant life around him. Gently the power flows into him, where he gathers it until he has enough to fuel his spell. Pausing for a deep breath, the crucial moment upon him. He could stop now with little harm, nothing more than a headache or continue and face the unknown dangers of the spell.

With a wave of his hand Elric weaves his magic onto the page. The words on the page written in the specially prepared mage ink jump to life. The letters break apart and reform at random, whole words disappear only to reform elsewhere on the page. Words move and twist, upside down, backwards sideways. Elric weathers the blow of chaos, maintaining his focus. With great effort he pours his will onto the page the chaos begins to slow. Methodically the ink splits and melds until the page is filled with the flowing script of the elven people. Elric had always and would always see his magic written in elven, it was his tribute to his elven mother who had shown him the gift of magic.

Understanding the script is even more difficult than the task of forming it. The scrab mage had a different focus than Elric and an amazingly alien mind. Slowly Elric begins to dissect the spell. Each section is examined until it is fully understood, in itself and as it effects the whole of the spell. Having the grasp of the spell Elric waves his hand again adding more of his force to the spell. The words begin to flow again this time in an orderly fashion as they move into a pattern to fit Elric's will. The half-elf allows himself a feint smile as he pours the remainder of his gathered energy into his spell. Deep red words transform into a glowing yellow script, fueled by Elric's magic. The spell floats up from the page, dancing before the dimming fire. Reaching out with his magic Elric grasp the spell and pulls it into himself.

A rush of energy flows through the warlock as the knowledge of the spell emerges in Elric's mind. The spell was his now and forever. The next time Elric looked on the page of the spell with his gift the spell would transform into the pattern as he had built it. (DM note: Elric has learned that spell. Choose a 1^st level spell and delight us with a description of its first casting.)

Mendi approached cautiously the warlock and the windmage while they looked at the strange book they had found in the scrab nest, with a somewhat smug air. He looked at the two half-elves and then decided himself to speak. "Well, I have found these strange gems a while ago... I wanted you two to have a look at

them."

Elric takes the gems into hand and examines them closely. "I haven't the spell to tell if they are magical but I will be able to check them once we gain Lost Scale. Until then I would prefer to hold all my spell ability in reserve in case of trouble."

Two of the three gems seem normal enough if a brilliant scintillating crystal were normal but the larger gem definitely had something to ti. Both Elric and Ayrus looked and handled the gem but neither felt any 'magic' in it. Mendi, however, felt that compelling urge to meditate on the gem as if the gem was somehow calling him. His eyes drowsed a bit momentarily and he snapped out of it when Elric yelled at him and Ayrus shook him violently, "Hey be careful here, we thought we lost you!" The trader found out he was sweating profusely and his 'mind' seemed to have been affected. All of the sudden it hit him that perhaps the gem was not magical at all but rather was endowed with psionic powers. "Psionics, I can handle that way better than magic…" (DM note: Vincent: The gem compels you to meditate on it. Let me know when you want to try that.)

Expedition Day 15 - Year of the Desert's Fury of the 190th King's Age (Free Year 11)

Scrublands - Somewhere in the Hinterlands

MORNING

A night spent resting had done wonders for his spirit. The chill of pre-dawn invigorated the halfling as he careful picked his way through the campsite, several of his companions already starting to stir - Rayne -ever running through a martial drill. Tak' had more peaceful pursuits in mind.

Briskly covering the distance to the small rise to the north of their campsite, Tak' observed the mighty ringing mountains, covered in a swath of green. The sun had not yet risen, but Tak' knew what the distant forest looked like - often during the grueling marches of the day he let his eye linger on the lands of his home.

Still, not yet could he return. Not until he was ready, not until he had learned enough to call himself chief. Taking position on the rise, Tak' sat quietly, staring at the pregnant horizon - glowing with the light of pre-dawn.

The names of his ancestors ran through his mind - from Gre'Nak; the first, through 21 others who existence of 'Nak owed. The fore- fathers and mothers of 'Nak lived on, Tak' knew that; helping the village with their wisdom and mana. There were heroes among the 22, along with the wise and the powerful. All were halfling, and all celebrated the Green. All those who did not were cast out. But there were mercifully few of those....

All were ancestors, and one was his mother - only recently joining the line. To Fre'Nak Tak' prayed most fervently. His mother had been an eternal rock, able to dispense kindly words of wisdom to her sons, daughters and kinsmen - as well as calling on Gaea herself to aid the village. Felled by a black obsidian spear - as crude as its wielder. A Gith.

He had much to live up to. But much to live for. The pressures were great, but he was not alone. Fre'Nak had seen to it her son carried confidence and belief in himself and his people. Tak' was halfling, never alone as long as there were others to live for.

The sun rose, the violet and red rays carving gouges across the rugged landscape. Looking at the majesty of nature, the birth of another sun, Tak' felt a tear run down his cheek. Gaea had blessed him with beauty, and it was a new day.....

Hardly being able to rest that night, Rayne awakens early and checks her gear, preparing for the day's journey ahead. Sharing some breakfast and water with the worm, she contemplates what to call it, until Koreth and Gaigin approaches, ready for some morning exercises to begin their day. Rayne practices hard with her friends teaching them some of her fighting style, and listening hard to the tips the experienced fighters gave her. Moving in a graceful deadly dance the mul demonstrates her kata - her
morning ritual they have viewed many times. Keeping her motions extra slow she teaches them the movements and explains how it loosens her muscles and relaxes her mind, helping her to focus. "Ye are welcome to join me any morning . . 'tis a nice was to view the sunrise."

Once the Pac is under way, Rayne places a protective, comforting hand on the pouch, soothing the worm into some rest and wondering how it is handling all the traveling. Turning to Elric who was traveling near her the mul looks puzzled. "I am still at a loss as to what to name the poor worm. Seems a shame to call it "it" all the time. Have ye had any luck namin' the cub?"

"I agree they are companions in many ways and it or cub just doesn't seem right. As far as the cub I have in fact named him. Indeed I am hoping in another day or so he may even answer to it" With a laugh Elric looks out to where the cub is padding along with the group near Mendi. Bringing his hand down to his side "Come Whisper, come." The tagster continues to pad along for a few moments. "Well I am not sure if he doesn't realize he is now Whisper or he is just not listening. We have been working on the hand gesture for a few days now, I only added the name yesterday after the battle with the scrabs. I had seen how well he moved in the dark confines of the cave and came in and out of view with little less than a whisper. I think it appropriate for the tagster. What say you?" With a slow yawn the tagster cub circles to where Elric stands. "Well better late than never I guess."

The mul laughs as the cub fails to acknowledge it's new name in the slightest. "it suits her/him well! <OOC is the cub male or female?> I am sure with time she/he will respond." The mul pauses thinking "What is the elven word fer light?" Suddenly hit with inspiration, Rayne shouts ahead "What's the halfling's word fer light Tak?"

"Light is such a joyous word, as varied in its brilliance as in meanings. Do you speak of the burning light of the noon sun? Or the gentle radiance of the moonlight through the tree-branches? A name is not a thing to be taken or given lightly," Tak' furrows his brow and looks intently at nothing in particular, his mind elsewhere, "there is great meaning and power in a name..."

Sitting for a while, his mind running through the stories of his elders, Tak' mulls things over. "Perhaps you should try Tre', which means 'light amongst the dark'. A name for one who stands up tall against the evil, or makes themselves known."

"Or Le'lil," he offers as an alternative, "meaning the 'soft light of the moon.' A name for one who works in more subtle ways, yet brings illumination to all when it is needed."

Inspiration hit at the sound of the word. . . "Le'lil . . ." The mul tries her best to match the accent of the halfling language. "I like it, soft light of the moon, it suits well. And ye should be named with a halfling word since ye were buried with their ancestors fer so long!" Rayne places some food in the pouch ad continues to mutter soothingly to the little worm, making sure it's comfortable and protected from the light that seems to hurt it so. "Le'lil . . " she mutters the name a few more times in practice, then looks to Tak with a smile. "Thank ye Tak, that's exactly what I was lookin' fer!"

MID MORNING

The travel had been fairly easy and the lushness of the scrublands was a hard contrast to the stony barrens that were still within eyesight of the party. That was what Ptellac had said, "Travel south but keep the barrens in sight and you will reach my village" The pterran and the kreen had left a while before but it now seemed like ages and everyone missed his toothy smile. The saurian was somewhere south of them with the druid but could still be reached magic or psionics if there was need.

The rolling hills were gentle but they had currently reached a small valley where a particular scene greeted them. A cornered animal was trying to fight its way out a death circle. The animal was recognized by all and its hide and plates looked very much like Koreth's armor. The piglet must have been cut off from its family and about 8 or 9 small canines surrounded it. It was strange to see how the pack toyed with the defenseless animal but did not get around to killing it for some reason. A small canine would approach and bite the piglet and retreat and the whole pack would surround it as it squealed its fear to the four winds.

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 (W),

Koreth (SiW),

Ayrus (SiW),

Tak (H)

Rayne (H)

Mendi (SiW)

Elric (H)

GENERAL

If you haven't guessed the pack is made up of z'tals that feed off emotions (death, fear, etc) and are actually 'milking' the piglet. Let me have 1 and only 1 person 'know' this and explain it in character to the rest.

We can also roleplay a lunch here (more scrab eat?, Koreth is having what?).

I will pick up action tomorrow so anything for the rest of the day goes in this turn.

Questions, comments, and suggestions please.

L8r,

Fabian