Burnmad

IC: Selamat - Precipere You didn't think to tell us that before we departed? He said it in his head. It was an impressive exercise of restraint on his part - the shock of the news nearly activated his implants. But that restraint was for naught, unfortunately; the way his gaze snapped instantly from Somok to Tueris left no doubt that this was the group's first time hearing the information that Tueris had just related so casually. They'd been told there was a plague waiting for them, they'd even been told that the information came from the Bone Hunters. But the knowledge that the Bone Hunters had found the Iron Tribe's leader - alive, even - and delivered her charred remains to Vulcanus? It changed the situation drastically. Had Tueris planned to tell them this if Somok hadn't brought it up? If this was 'need to know' information, they had needed to know. Selamat remained silent, but his eyes were boring a hole in the back of Tueris' head. There would be a discussion about this later, when they were not among strangers.

IC: Selamat - Precipere Standing behind Aurax with the rest of the expedition, Selamat bowed wordlessly to the Ash Tribe's apparent leader. It was not worth questioning the implication that they would not be permitted to pass through on their return trip-- evidently, most of his fellows did not plan on making a return trip. He did, but that was a bridge to be crossed when he reached it. He turned away and began studying the construction of the building they occupied, hoping that, permission for passage having been attained, they would not waste further time here. People of the Iron Tribe were very likely dying as they stood here. OOC: @~Xemnas~ @a goose @Nato G @oncertainty IC: Skrall - Approaching Bone Hunter Stronghold Skrall snapped to as Atakus called out their fast-approaching destination. While making sure his visible weapons were visible and his concealed weapons were concealed, he spared a glance to the two younger Skrall in the cart. "Here we go, Skrall. My advice: Don't speak unless spoken to. Don't be afraid to return any stares that come your way, though." As their party neared the mesa, and he completed his self-check, he returned to surveying the sands. Populated did not necessarily mean safe, and the growing intensity of the dunes made for much shorter sight lines. @Skrall

IC: Skrall - On the Road He thought quietly for a moment, eyes returning to their previous routine of surveying the land around them. "Dunno," he said, after some moments. "I'm no Sister, I can only see what's in front of me. If they ever had intelligence, they lack it now." OOC: @Nato G @oncertainty

IC: Skrall - On the Road "Once," Skrall replied, eyes now briefly diverting to meet the younger Skrall's gaze. "We did much as we are doing now; delivering a reject to sell to the bone hunters. Only, we did not continue further south after we had done so." There was more to the story. He felt a sudden impulse to share some of the details with them. "On our way back, we were attacked by one of the desert's creatures: An upright predator called a Vorox. Closest thing to a true 'people' that the dunes have. Seemed we surprised it while it was dragging a kill back to its den. It punched a hole in a Skrall with its tail, and gave a few more some minor scratches before we hacked it to death. The scratches were fine, but the Skrall that got jabbed started seizing up, couldn't move, could barely even breathe. Surprisingly, he lived. Unlucky for him, as he got transferred to logistics for being the first blood drawn by the South." OOC: @Nato G @oncertainty

IC: Skrall - On the Road Skrall, to this point, had been silent-- straining his ears to listen to the conversation in both carts at the same time. Taking it all in, drinking in the words of his various traveling companions, trying to get a bead on their perspectives, their weaknesses, and their merits. At the same time, his eyes scanned the horizon, as much to spot any lurking denizens thereof, as to appear like he was not eavesdropping. The results came as a surprise. Well, partially-- that the three male youths were hopeless greenhorns was no surprise. But, there was an unexpected level of nuance to their childish ignorance. Magnet Hands was a thinker; open-minded. If he took care to keep his skull from being similarly opened, that quality might serve him well, when he had gained the experience to know what things were worth thinking about. The other Skrall in their cart struck him as more of a watcher and a follower, someone who took in a great deal of information about the world around him, but struggled to operate without direction. Quite easy to influence, if handled properly, Skrall thought. In the other cart, it was clear that the third youth was trying desperately to be properly Skrall-like. That made him quite predictable, but not necessarily dependable. The female, Skrall could not get a read on. She had said too little, and revealed of herself even less. This was one thing which was not surprising-- of course the female, feared and reviled by all who knew what she was, would not be forthcoming with details about herself. Un-Skrall was not worthy of consideration; even if he managed to earn Skrall's respect, orders were orders, and the traitor would soon be left behind them with the Bone Hunter slavers. Still, the claims he had made were of great interest, and Skrall wondered with a detached curiosity how much of them had been truthful. The scout was the most intriguing of all Skrall's companions. Skrall had initially written him off as a foolish outcast, an ill-fitting link in the Skrallic chain. Now Skrall wondered if the scout was not, perhaps, the wisest of them all-- other than Skrall himself, of course. The scout's story stuck in Skrall's mind even more than un-Skrall's had; the implications it had for Skrall, and what it said of the merits of the Southerners they had come to conquer. There was no doubt in Skrall's mind that the scout had glimpsed one of the myriad faces of Truth-- the ever-shifting crumb of knowledge that few ever saw more of than a mere outline. The question was, had he survived the encounter fully intact? That was a question that would have to be answered through further observation. Presently, it occurred to Skrall that he had been silent for quite a long time while the two youths with whom he was sharing his wagon had been conversing. He thought it prudent to join their conversation, for the sake of group cohesion. They seemed to be talking about Tajun, and one had just asked why all of the Southerners did not live there. "Not enough resources for everyone to live in one place," he said, without tearing his eyes away from the desert sands. "They do as the Skrall did in the North; control sources of not just water, but also food and raw materials. The only difference is that instead of all being Skrall, the villages which control those things in the South are all different. Instead of the leaders taking the fullness of the land's bounty and rationing it out as needed, they distribute it randomly, through a foolish process called economy." OOC: @Nato G @oncertainty

IC: Selamat - Arena Vulcanus "Whatever awaits us, I am confident that we will get through it, by the strength of our arms and the sharpness of our wits. Nonetheless, it would behoove us to start our journey while we yet have the half-light of dawn before us. We shall wish to be amidst the canyons by time the sun is directly overhead." @a goose @oncertainty @Nato G @~Xemnas~

IC: Selamat - Arena Vulcanus Selamat was just finishing his breakfast as the others began to stand. He hoped that they had not been waiting for him. He was perfectly able to eat on the move, and had done so numerous times prior. He rose from his cross-legged sit as if unfolding, feet sliding beneath him and pushing him to a standing position without the aid of his arms, which were occupied by placing his emptied lunch bag into a satchel that was then pushed around to hang at his hip, opposite his sword on the other. He was ready to depart. With an Agori in tow, it seemed? He fancied that it may, indeed, be possible for her to hold her own out on the sand, and he hoped that this was the case, as they would bring dishonor upon themselves if she perished in their company. If the rest of them survived, that is. @a goose @Nato G @oncertainty @~Xemnas~

IC: Selamat - Arena Vulcanus Selamat, still chewing a mouthful of bread, glanced at the Agori that was entering. Before he could swallow, Tueris and another had already spoken up to object to the small being's presence. He nodded his agreement to the words of Vulcanus' disgraced former Second Glatorian. "It is a treacherous path we will walk," he muttered. His voice was remarkably high when compared with most men, and pleasantly smooth. @a goose @Nato G @oncertainty @~Xemnas~

IC: Skrall - Roxtus Stables "We won't," Skrall cut in, ending the conversation as well as his comrade's concerns. "We present a strong front to the outsiders. We are Skrall!" As he spoke, he looked to each in turn-- even the female. Even the scout. Not the traitor. "Now," he said, looking to the cart they had been loading, "let us finish our preparations and be on our way." OOC: @a goose @BULiK @Nato G @oncertainty @Toru Nui @Vezok's Friend

IC: Skrall - Roxtus Stables He stepped over to where the rope still lay on the ground in a coil. Stooping down, he seized it from the floorboards, and raising himself back up to his full height, he brought it over to bind the traitor's hands. @Vezok's Friend @BULiK

IC: Selamat - Arena Vulcanus Selamat arrived in the arena. He'd have been the first to show up, but he had gone home to rest immediately after signing up. He had wanted to ensure that he was fresh for the road ahead. Nodding in the general direction of the others who had gathered there, he sat himself upon the familiar sand of the arena, and drew his breakfast from his bag: Fresh bread; a few vegetables from Tesara; a sip of precious water from one of his skins. His favored blade was at his hip, but his spear was with him also, as was a survival knife that was indispensable in the wilderness. He wore a head covering, to keep the sun off and the sand out, though it was pulled down off his mouth for now. @a goose @oncertainty @~Xemnas~

IC: Skrall - Roxtus Stables Skrall glared at his Special Forces 'compatriot', his expression suggesting unfavorable appraisal-- not, perhaps, of his opinion, but of the fact that he was expressing it. You're not supposed to say it. It was bad enough that he had to travel with a group so full of outcasts - the reject female among them, even - but now the scout that was to be their guide was speaking treasonous utterances. And in the middle of Roxtus. This did not bode well at all. It reflected poorly on Skrall to be near this bunch. Thankfully, the scout was only to accompany them temporarily. Skrall only hoped that the scout's un-Skrall-like ways could evade notice for that time. OOC: @a goose @Skrall

IC: Skrall - Roxtus Stables As Skrall dove out of the way and allowed once-Skrall to charge past him, Skrall changed the course of his strafe-- not to move in and assist Skrall, but to get between once-Skrall and the exit. There was no risk of once-Skrall evading an entire city of Skrall and escaping into the wastes, but there was a danger to the group's honor if they allowed once-Skrall to step foot outside of the stables. He drew his main-gauche out of his cloak, holding it alongside his sword as he taunted the deserter. "You will fetch little from the Bone Hunters if you go to them without all of your limbs. Cease your resistance, and salvage what little honor you have left. This is the last hope you have to be of service to the Black Legion." @BULiK @Nato G @oncertainty @Toru Nui @Vezok's Friend

IC: Selamat: Vulcanus It was quite possible that Selamat's name was the first on the list. He stepped out of the building where the roster was being created, a look of resolve evident on his face. This was what he'd been waiting for. A chance to utilize the skills he'd been honing his whole life. A chance to prove himself.

IC: Skrall - Roxtus Stables Skrall reacted immediately to the deserter's resistance. In the briefest of moments, the rope he had coiled over his arm was discarded, his feet working in concert with his brain to mark the location where the obstacle would come to rest, as they had marked the layout of the stable when they had first entered. He knew, intuitively, that the rope would now be a tripping hazard two paces to his left, just as he knew that the traitor could be reached - or could reach him - in one lunging step, just as he knew that Skrall was not going to be grounded by the traitor's attempt to throw him. Young as he looked, Magnet-Hands was not born yesterday. Before the rope touched the stable floor, Skrall's own blade flashed from its sheath, and he moved back two steps to place some distance between himself and the threat. The tip of his sword pointed threateningly at the deserter as he held it close in a guard position, all the while he strafed around to his left - stepping over the rope without needing to look - in the hopes of encircling the traitor-- and of distracting it as Skrall hefted a crate to bludgeon it with. @BULiK @Nato G @oncertainty @Toru Nui @Vezok's Friend