It was raining.

The slavemaster cursed. Rain was yet another snag in a delicate operation gone horribly wrong. He had been riding slave caravans up and down the spine of the world for years and years and never once, never once had he been a part of such an ill-fated slave convoy as this one. First had come the raiders and though they were promptly and professionally rebuffed they had lost two out of their twelve mercenaries. They had been replaced, rather oddly enough, by two women. One was crazier then his Aunt Lora but the other was a killer- and a good one. He had hired the two of them on the spot. The crazy one had the curious effect of making the slaves quiet and just for that, he had considered it money well spent and she didn't require much feeding.

Course' then slaves started disappearing. Mysteriously. No one knew how or why and he'd had a damn hard time in figuring out who had done it. Then the raiders started attacking en masse and, all of a sudden, he was down to two fighters. The ones he had hired. The crazy one seemed unkillable. He had sworn to heck he had seen her skewered a dozen times and yet each time she rose, smiling, unblinking and full of arrows and full of promises of death.

Or tea parties. Which really amounted to the same thing.

And now here they were. In a desert which rained. The slavemaster sighed. Either he'd be rich or he'd be dead and he didn't know which he preferred.

"Cursed rain! The sky god itself is trying to delay this. We should sacrifice the whole lot of them to Raku! Murder the slavemaster and take his gold before heading back to civilization.

They were unused to the desert climate, and had taken to making everything as light as possible, usually through cutting the pants and shirts to a fairly low-cut. They'd fashioned a form of sun visor out of hat they'd cannibalized and turned into a wide brim with her cloth-scraps to cover the top. It got a bit warm to wear at noon time, but it kept the sun out of her eyes the rest of the day. Their cloak was left untouched though, she used it for a blanket.

Robyn faired much better, being unaffected by the temperatures. She WAS useful as a heat-source at night. So Triella ended up sharing the same little carpet and hugging the (cutest xD) little dead girl. And it worked! She was actually comfortable at nighttime!

Looking around as the rain got lighter, but continued to turn the sand into a cake-like mud substance. She grabbed onto the actual wagon and let it carry her. Why walk through that mud?

uh oh...

"Robyn-rinnn!?" Knowing her she'd wandered off the make mud-pies or something...[

Robyn-rin felt guilty. She had found a snack and hadn't shared eet with anyone yet. Not that anyone liked the snack-snacks she made anymore but she always felt like she should share because sharing was a Vereh Good Thing according to lots an' lots and Loooooots of peoples but she had stumbled onto something that she hadn't thought she'd ever find again!

A dead horse!

The leetle undead girl squealed. Horsies were nice but their fleshiness was even nicer! Eeet reminded her of this stuff that people wore that was called 'leather'. She had eaten that too even if it had tasted a little grimy and a little odd. But it was a familiar oddinissity and she liked it more than even friend-friend flesh sharing! And now she had a whole horsie to herself! It was a small horsie though and flies had gotten to it before she had and... were those worms? And spiders? Yummy!

She grabbed a handful of horsie but it just... came apart in her hands. And then it disappeared. Robyn opened her eyes as wide as she could. Where had the horsie gone? How could it have disappeared? That wasn't fair! She had seen the horsie! She knew she had! The horsie was there... and then it was gone. Grrrrr. She'd find it if it was the last thing-

Robyn-rin heard Alice-Mommy shout her name and Robyn-rin made a little sigh-sigh. Alice Mommy needed her so she ran back towards the caravan. One of her friend-friends, a boy-boy by the name of Tod saw her and fainted.

“I'm here Alice-Mommy!”

They reached up and grabbed a small jar that was perched where rain ran off the roof of the wagon. Bringing it to her lips she drank a few gulps. Wat wasn't tight yet, but she didn't want to go through it too fast. Soon enough it'd be time for the slave's food and water rations actually. Maybe Robyn would get a meal out of the kid who'd just dropped to the floor dead or unconscious.

Triella was suspecting Robyn was behind the disappearances. Particularly when they'd wake up and their little, snuggly heater had wandered off somewhere only to come back smelling of rusty copper. Granted there'd be a reduction in pay for the slaves gone missing, but better than having Robyn eat her. Which was a little worry they had, what if Robyn wanted to "play" with Alice-mommy when she was asleep?

Looking back at the just-arrived Robyn, Triella smiled and held out her hand to Robyn to jump on board too. It wasn't THAT bad out here actually. Everyday they'd wake up to a beautiful sunrise, get to lounge about in the heat and get a wonderful tan. Watch an amazing sunset, then fall asleep in the embrace of the (cutest XD) little dead girl you ever saw.

"Tod was so happeh he died when he saw me Alice-Mommy!" Robyn reported proudly. She had long heard people use the phrase 'so happy I could die' and thought that, on this day and for this scenario, it was especially fitting. She wasn't sure if he was dead though, maybe he was only sleeping. Maybe, she thought, maybe he was only trying to fool her into believing that he was happeh. Hadn't he called them all monstrosities and purid, soul-sucking leeches that dwealt at the bottom of humanity's cesspool?

Robyn didn't know. All Robyn knew was that his real name was really long and complicated and that everyone with pointy ears had reaaaaaallly long and complicated names and that if Alice was to think of anything and anyone- she might, at any moment- see her head explode. Poppa Bear had told her, with a great deal of seriousness, that elvies had pointy ears because their names were too long to fit in a normal ear. That's where all names resided after all... in peoples' ears. Listening to an elfy name would make her head go ka-plooey and ka-flooey and fling bits of Robyn-rin into everyone's hair and Robyn-rin did not want that to happen at all. Oh no no no- Robyn-rin liked her pwetty head right where it was.

So she called Mr. Elfy with a long name 'Tod'.

Still she was fairly certain that Tod liked her and wasn't faking! Maybe they'd even trade flesh flesh later on! She was sure he could use a new finger and she had two extra stashed somewhere. Maybe he'd trade one for two?

"Er...uh oh..."

Triella waved at one of the slaves, "Check on him and tell me if he's dead or not. You might get a bit of extra rations." They were more than starved, so that was a pretty good source of motivation. He scrambled over to "Tod" and turned him over, trying to feel for a heartbeat.

Like a child eager to please, he shook his head rapidly, shaking his greasy hair wildly.

with a disgusted look Triella reached up and held the cup to his outstretched hands, pouring a little in it. It amused her to watch him greedily lick at his hands when the water was gone. They hated elves, more so than angels.

Walking carefully along the narrow platform around the mobile-cage, they went into the supply compartment to dig out some hard tack and full cantines. Pulling out a pair of small trough-like boxes, she placed a half-dozen of the biscuits into one, and poured two cantines into the other before hanging the empty jars up to refill in the drizzle.

"Robyn, I don't think your friend Tod is going to last much longer. Would you like to play with him later?"

“Later,” Robyn agreed. “Because if he really did die because he was happeh than I should probably be happeh for him because he died and went...” And then she fell silent.

The Slavemaster approached. He could smell death- it was an instinct born from repeated exposure and he had had enough of death. He would catch the crazeh one- oh he was sure it was the crazeh one- that had managed to make his slaves disa...

Wait, that wasn't a dead'un. Or rather not a missing dead'un. It was dead but just not-

“Bloody elves.” The Slavemaster grouched, as he strode towards the Caravan. He could tell already by the quality of the air. It wasn't a scent he could smell but rather the atmosphere. The grand majority here were humans or halfies, and races tended to band together. The general cheer meant that it wasn't a majority slave-type that had just died but rather a minority. And he only had two minors that he was aware of- a dwarf and an elf. And dwarves were harder to kill than roaches. “No good for anything but lookin' pwetty.” He said without rancour. He hadn't expected the highborn elf to survive anyways.

Glancing at the two 'bodyguards' he pointed out one of the wagons.

“There's plenty of salt- grab the body and salt it. Feed it back to the slaves. We're low on victuals and whatnot anyways, they can always use the extra flesh.” He guffawed, as if at a private joke.

"Here that? Meat is back on your menu!"

Their hand was the grip of the longsword, just in case they decided to try something funny and break out. Which in itself was pointless, they'd just die wandering out here in the desert by themselves. Or get hunted down and eaten by Robyn.

Opening up the creaky iron-door she motioned for Robyn to go in and get it. The slaves were absolutely terrified of the little girl, they wouldn't try going near her without risking the loss of valuable body parts. They might try to run though, so Triella was waiting with her sword to cut down anyone stupid enough to try it.

The fact that they were about to dismember a still-living being didn't bother her, she'd probably make him scream a bit longer than necessary. They hated elves. Maybe they'd feed him some of his own flesh and blood, that'd be amusing...

"We're going to turn friend-friend into meat-meat?" Robyn asked the Slavemaster. The Slavemaster grunted in answer, he was a man of few words (well, when a dialouge was to be had, once it turned into a monologue he was just as savvy in the art of wordcrafting as the next madman and a 'drunk on very real power' complex) and this disturbing little girl always... well, disturbed him for some reason or another. The rain pelted his face and he quickly realized that he was getting wet, no doubt some of the slaves would die of pneumonia before the trip was over.

Bully for them. What was he supposed to do? Keep them warm? Keep them sheltered? At the moment, the elf was probably worth more dead than alive. Besides, the weak slaves barely sold for anything these days... various peoples were making his life harder and harder by cracking down on slave caravans and almost everyone except the orcs were bowing down to the Light forces. He almost spat at the very idea of such people.

Robyn-rin watched as Mr. Bigsir went ambling off. She thought he was a bit... fa- (corpulent, The Chef interjected smoothly, we must pay attention to social niceties after all)... a bit corpulent. His tummy went swinging this way and that with every step he took. Robyn giggled at the sight, he reminded her of a big stuffed teddy bear or of a Santa-ninja. Maybe he was Santa-ninja? It was awfully hard to tell without the beard and without the mustache and without all the other good stuff. She shook her head and turned back to Alice-Mommy.

“So we're turning Friend-friend into meat-meat?”

"Sort of. See Robyn, everyone is made of meat. Even you. Only it's not a good thing unless they're dead, or an enemy. And right now dear Tod is dead, so it's okay to eat his meat. What we're turning him INTO though is treats. Could you be a dear and fetch Tod for me?"

Robyn wasn't slow, she just sees things through a wildly different view. It was wonderful to listen to her talk sometimes. Innocence committing acts of depravity without even a second thought. Innocence in it's darkest form. Made you get a good look at what children were capable of if their physical bodies were strong enough.

Reaching around in a small pouch on her hips, Triella pulled out a chunk of meat before biting off a chunk of it. They'd taken to cooking it straight away than salting it, salt made on thirstier, so they avoided salted meat. As to whether or not it was human, she wasn't too sure nor cared.

Robyn followed her Alice-Mommy's words up to the point where she said she was turning Tod into a treat. Tod wasn't a treat. He was big... and treats weren't big. Treats were small, edible lumps of yumminess that verged on yummyliciousness and... unless... Robyn's eyes swam at the possibilities. They could... they could... she tried to follow the thought and hang onto it. If they could turn big things into little things then clearly they had an awesome, awesome power that verged on so much pure concentrated Awesome that they... they...

Then Robyn's eyes glazed over.

“She's lost it,” Poppa Bear said mournfully. “She'll be trying to hack up everything in sight again.”

“Nonsense,” The Chef replied. “We fixed her last time didn't we?”

“No thanks to ye, ye blundering fool.” Momma Bear returned. “If it hadn't been for TC we would have all died and that'd have been somewhat awkward for the poor thing. She can't last without us y'know.”

“And TC's asleep. And the bloody fool -never- sleeps.” Poppa bear sighed. “I don't think we can wake him. He's not... wakable. Not the same way we are. And memory tampering's a delicate thing... too much pressure and she might just explode.”

“She won't explode.” The Chef said, a bit chagrined at his ineptness. Or something.

“Well let's get to work.” Momma Bear said. “We can debate this all day or we can start getting what needs getting to order, -in- order. And we need to start with the word treat. What do you suggest? Feet? Meat?”

Robyn stared blankly ahead, her various Figments trying to fix her before she went on yet another bloody rampage trying to turn all friend-friends into treatsies.

Robyn went standstill, she probably got confused over something she said and a few working synapses fried. Or maybe an ant was eating portions of her brain. Either way Triella got a bit distracted by a sudden movement in the wagon.

Her blade was already drawn and she'd placed herself in the doorway with the blade at a forty-five degree angle. In front of her an emaciated human female was standing over the fallen elf. A paramour or comrade most likely. The blonde-haired girl was looking up at Triella with a hatred and defiance she grudgingly accepted. Only difference was those with power and those without it.

Lashing out her boot caught the woman in her face, and she felt the jaw shift as a spray of bloody mist erupted from her mouth along with some teeth that had ripped free from their fleshy-shackles. Before she'd fallen to the floor, Triella had jumped over the fallen-Tod to kick down at her ribs, breaking a couple after the fourth time. They spit on her before turning to face the other slaves.

“There, I think she's fixed.”

“She won't understand though. -I- don't understand. How does feet in the place of treat make any sense? She might just interpret it as some sort of... I dunno... some mystical, magical meaning that all there is to life is turning her friends into feetsies.”

Two pairs of eyes swiveled to meet Momma Bear's and cocked imaginary eyebrows. Momma Bear put up two hands, as if warding away the odd lucks. She admitted it to herself as much as she did to them when she said:

“Yeah, I didn't think so either. Carry on.”

Robyn? If they knew Robyn at all- and they did, they most definitely did- then they knew that the last thing on Robyn's mind was trying to figure out mysteries. If she decided that something was worth prusuing than she pursued it like a curious beaver. If she couldn't understand something she'd let it drop and then move on to bigger and better things. Or that seemed to be the general idea at least. Not since they had invented Mr. Beeble had they seen Robyn latch onto a (living!) being before. It was curious. Not worrisome per se... but...

Curious.

V.V.V.V.V

Robyn awoke, her mind groggy. Had she gone to sleep on her feet? That was odd. She hadn't remembered going to sleep before and... oooh! A horsie... that was fading even as she looked at it. Robyn sighed. Such weirdness. Maybe she wasn't getting enough sleep...

Was Alice-Mommy playing knights and bandits again? Did Alice-Mommy need help? How could Robyn be doing nothing?

“I'll help you Alice-Mommy!” And then she jumped onto Todd and bit into his throat.

Triella stomped again on the curled woman, crushing her heal into the broken bones as her face twisted into a hideous grin. They loved the agony etched into her pained face. The way tears ran down the side of her face, the way her lips were ruby red as a thing string of blood ran out from them. They wanted to hold her close while smashing her with a hammer. Embrace the upwelling of emotions she was feeling, feed off it.

Stopping she stumbled back, breathing heavily. It wasn't that it was physically exhausting, but more like a panting. They were excited, they wanted to skewer the woman and have her twist and writhe on the blade point like a worm speared by a bird. but not now, not here...

Especially with a Robyn latching onto Tod, whose eyes snapped open and he let out a loud, gurgling scream as the girl bit into his throat...

Inside Robyn, another emergency meeting was held. The stench of sulfur was heavy in the imaginary air and round table. It was a large round table, but only four were present.

“Why's she feeding? I thought we had gotten her out of that...”

“Defensive instinct. I hope. Damnit, she wasn't supposed to feed again so soon. This will screw up some major-”

“You're awake, I see that as a bonus.”

“Shut it, too much excess energy and her flesh will start to look like actual undead flesh, and then we'll all be in a pretty pickle cuz' her brain will be next. And we all know what that means.”

“Try and remind her that she needs to save the meat-meat?”

“I can't believe I'm trying to understand the Host. Good lords...”

“Get her to go for the brains. Tis' the only stuff that helps with regeneration.”

“Not a bad idea...”

V.V.V.V.V

For some reason, Robyn suddenly felt like she needed to eat brains. Not just the metaphorical brains that everyone had and that she seemed to have such a gift for squelching whenever she was around but real, meaty brains. The kind of brains that sort of... sort of just... became juicy. Yes, juicy. She had heard and tried tofu before. Similar consistency but the taste... ahhh... the glorious taste. Yes that made all the difference. Grabbing onto Tod's skull she began gnawing. Tod started moaning feebly, blood still gushing from his neck wound. Robyn frowned. He had a surprisingly hard head. Poking a finger into his nose... she slowly started to push. You could get brains from the nose if you made a big enough hole. She knew, she had tried.

"Robyn...Robyn dear? Please watch out for a moment..."

When the little girl tried to get something, it was best to give it to her and keep quiet. If she wanted brains, by Raku she'd have all the brains she wanted. Taking her long sword she pressed the tip into the shivering-Tod's head before pressing down on it with an excessive amount of force. A crunch led to a snap, a snap lead to a crack, a crack led to a sag. And a sag leg to a collapse and a nerve-convulsion throughout Tod's body before he stopped moving.

Pulling up her longsword, she wiped the blood and grey matter on his rags before sheathing their sword. turning towards the slavemaster they bellowed, "No meat it looks like. Robyn's a bit hungry..." They'd go hungry, but the woman would die of itnernal bleeding or some other complications soon enough, they'd be fine.

Robyn-rin let go of Tod's head as Alice-Mommy told her to move. In fact her exact words had been, Robyn dear... please watch out for a moment. Robyn swooned. No one had ever told her to watch out for a moment. Not even Momma Bear who was the bestest Momma Bear anyone could ask for. Then things got a bit messy as Alice-Mommy kind of sliced and diced (which Alice-Mommy was really good at!) and then sort of just push and pop and then Tod's head kind of... came apart.

BRAINS!

Robyn rushed over to the body and hastily began scooping in the grey gooey stuff. She stopped a bit and let Alice-Mommy and everyone know that she wouldn't be hogging -all- the good bits like Alice-Mommy thought that she would be.

The Slavemaster bellowed back: “Save -something- damnit! Even -I'm- going to be eating that blasted corpse if the weather holds out!”

“Oh don't worry, Robyn-rin only wants the BRAINS and as long as Robyn-rin gets the BRAINS Robyn-rin will be more than happy to let everyone else share in Tod.” Then she giggled and said BRAINS again really loudly.

One of her friend-friends was busy making heaving noises. Probably not enough food to properly vomit.

Then she eagerly dug back in and started scooping up grey matter by the handfuls and hurriedly started swallowing. Mmmmm... good.... Mmmmhmmmm... Her speed got faster, her eyes got sharper and her body visibly more healthy as she consumed the delicious BRAINS and... mmmmm....

That was something new. Brains made Robyn healthier looking, so flesh was just yummy and filler to her while brains actually helped? Something worth remembering for future references when disposing of corpses. Standing patiently she waited for Robyn to finish up with her feast.

Triella snickered slightly as someone gagged at the sight of the child stuffing the greasy, grey-meat into her mouth like it was candy. Their unease and terror was evident in their faces. The child no longer even bothered to hide the cannibalism. Now they weren't safe in the daytime. Probably half of these slaves would die before they left the desert, anyone left would be stark raving mad. Good for pig-feed or gladiatorial slaughter.

"Thank you Dear, make sure you enjoy all the brains so you get big and strong, okay? We'll take the meat though so we don't all die on this trip."

"Okay Alice-Mommy," Robyn said proudly, her mouth bulging with treats and blood and brain matter that seeped down her mouth like a comical parody of a baby who could not quite eat properly but earnestly trying.

Well, it was comical to some people anyways. Others were not quite so forgiving of such a mangling of the language so as to completely destroy all traces of a moral center. But Robyn's conscience had died in the same dark rituals that had let her come back to life- it had a chance, all of her Figments had had a chance but it had refused. It had refused, knowing that Robyn was destined for things that she did not know of and that she could not control.

And ebil with a conscience was a dreadful thing. Far more dreadful than this pure, snow-white innocence that didn't distinguish the dreadful colors of morality.

Robyn had almost reached the brain stem point thingy which was quite an accomplishment by any standard. It had taken her much time to eat and eat and eat and eat, it wasn't easy with all that mushiness being taken directly from her mouth to the rest of her body, converting a mind into dark energy and perhaps even grabbing a little bit of the soul in order to keep Robyn's functional.

V.V.V.V.V

"Ahhh... perfect." The Chef said enthusiastically. "I can feel it..."

"That's because you're the closest one to re-birth."

"Even better then."

Grabbing the legs she started to slowly drag the corpse towards the door. Not moving to fast to pull it away from Robyn, but enough that'd she'd keep up slowly. Pausing at the door, they hopped out and dashed towards a more rear-supply wagon.

Hopping aboard she started rummaging through the various objects until she found the little stretcher. It wasn't meant to carry the wounded. It was for carrying the dead. Not undead like Robyn, but dead-dead like Tod.

Hoisting it up she brought it back to the slave-holding wagon before resting it on the little platform and pulling herself back onto the slow-moving object. They pulled Tod onto the stretcher, knowing Robyn had to be finished at this point. Now came the actual dismemberment when they reached the mobile-larder. Robyn might take a nap, did she feel that way after eating to much?

Since Alice-Mommy was busy moving Tod-Tod Robyn grinned and then yanked. The brain came right out, attached to some big bone fragments that the chef always seemed to be calling a 'spine'. She started lapping up the runny trails of brain brains that seemed to be going everywhere and anywhere and.... his brain was melting before her very eyes! She had to eat quickly or the wind would take it alllllll away! And that wouldn't be any good. She had to munch and crunch on the double! Or even (gasp!) on the triple! Or even (legaspity gasp!) on the quadruple!

But that was life. Munchy munchies weren't always munchy munchies for a very munchy long time. So that's why Robyn needed get as much munchies in this crunchy-munchy time that Robyn-rin had.

Mmmmm. Munchy.

Then Alice-Mommy started moving Tod-Tod friend friend far, far, far away with a litter thingamabobber that The Chef liked to call a 'mobile bed.' Robyn-rin was pretty sure it wasn't a real bed because The Chef had snickered when he had said those words, The Chef seemed to be developping a sense of humor. That was good but not ideal becuz... becuz... without the cheffy-chef acting like the cheffy-chef there wouldn't be any The Chef!

And Robyn-rin couldn't let that happen!

Following Alice-Mommy, Robyn-rin made her way with Tod-Tod, feeling somewhat bloated by all the excess brainrain energy that accompanied such a ginormous feast she flung the empty brain stalk away and said sleepily:

"Robyn-rin will help Alice ... Alice Mommy for sure!"

"Thank you Dear! Could you pick up the other end for me?"

One of Tod's arms hung limp over the edge, swaying abck and forth in the wind. Falsely making a motion that looked like he was reaching out to the vast expanse of the desert. As if desperately reaching for freedom despite being dead already.

Her sword flashed again, and a meaty-hack filled the air as the arm fell to the mud-caked sand. Triella snarled at it and kicked the limb, "Don't bother praying to that Life-mullet, she's forsaken you and the rest of your kin..."

she spit on Tod, apparently thinking the dead-elf was alive, and a prisoner of war from the forces of light. So of course she started ranting in slurred daemonic.

"Come on Vice-captain, we're going to flay this one alive and used the skin as our banner. That will teach the pointy-mullets not to interfere with us. you may use what's left for your necromantic experimentation Lich."

"Yes Alice-Mommy!" Robyn's crystal blue eyes became more alert even as she managed to pick up the arm. Apparently direct orders had a positive effect on her abilities to think after such a hearty meal. Above them rain clouds started parting, a shower in the desert could only last so long after all before it simply died away. Sometimes freak occurrences and sometimes natural, whatever precipitation existed in the wastes was passing and ever so transient in nature. There would be no trace of moisture on the morrow and camel feet would once again pad the deserts as lords of the wastes.

But not today. Not until the sun truly came out.

Some saw the sun as a symbol of redemption, the ultimate source of life. And in ways it was. It truly was. And yet it in the desert, it was a symbol of beauty and the harsh laws that governed this arid land: survive or die. Survive or perish. Survive or dry.

And that, in the end, was why so few came to live here. It wasn't that they couldn't, just that they didn't want to take up the courage and effort necessary to hammer out a land and a people out of these wastes. Even if it meant freedom from very real oppression. Humanity could be awkward in its perceptions of what was right and wrong and effort, wasted effort, was sometimes over-penalized in the grand scheme of things.

But that was not something that Robyn, who was quietly drifting off to sleep, was thinking.

Rather, it was a hunter, still hidden who gazed down upon these moving vans of people thought. Fresh meat, good coin- what was there not to like? Survive or dry. Wheeling his mount, the lizarian headed back to camp. They would be back- and they would bring followers.

And the rain left. It'd get miserably hot soon enough, but their soaked clothing would keep them cool for a little longer. By the time they were dried out the sun would be almost down and it'd get cold. Today wasn't that bad of day actually, progress was stalled, but it filled their water-supplies and gave them a break from un-ending heat.

Robyn was a bit more, focused as well. She seemed sluggish, but her responses were faster and more precise. Odd what brains did to the girl. But Triella didn't quite like it, she enjoyed the youthful-extravagance Robyn had. That childlike-wonder and naivety, and her nickname, made her actually feel like a mother. It was one of those daydreams she had, but knew would never come true. So in a way, Robyn could be that daughter she'd never had.

A shiver ran down their spine though. Like they were being watched...

After so long, after so much time undercover, disaster finally struck.

The Slavemaster had discovered Mr. Fluffington. On the surface, Mr. Fluffington was nothing to be worried about, a kitty-kat like any other kitty-kat. Robyn certainly didn't fear him or fear for him (Cats were resourceful creatures of course) but the Slavemaster didn't seem to think of this particular reality in the same way as Robyn-rin did. Mr. Fluffington was an undead kitty after all and the Slavemaster didn't seem to particularly like undead things. Especially unannounced, unexpected undead things.

He was holding Mr. Fluffington by the neck when he approached his two bodyguards who were still busy at work with Tod and transforming him into smaller packages. Much smaller packages. Tiny packages, even.

"Is e'," he jerked a thumb in the direction of the undead kitty-kat. "One of yours?"

Robyn nodded, beaming. "You found Mr. Fwuffingt-"

"HE'S THE CAUSE!" The slavemaster roared before either of them had the chance to speak. "THE SLAVES ARE DISAPPEARING DUE TO THIS... THIS..." Words failed the Slavemaster for a moment. Being big and being mean didn't necessarily mean his vocabulary was of similar size and strength. He finally came up with a word though and said it through a screen of flying spittle. "...MONSTROSITY!"

Robyn looked at him and laughed. He turned bright red.

"Mr. Fluffington could never do that! He's such a small-small kitty-kat! Big friend-friends wouldn't fit in his tummy, not a bit." She smiled again and the Slavemaster looked like he would be on the verge of an explosion.

Triella wiped away at the spittle on her face, her left eyelid twitching slightly from irritation. Raising a hand to hush Robyn she spoke in a calm, even tone. However it was in daemonic since she hadn't quite shaken her delusion yet.

"Do not fear Field-Commander. The cat is incapable of consuming such large quantities of flesh. I would suspect that the slaves themselves are cannibalizing each other and ditching the bones at nightfall. Or perhaps we're being stalked by some malicious entity, picking off the caravan one by one..."

She knew it was Robyn, but saying so would only cause the Lich to be black listed for experimenting on still-living flesh. That in itself was not frowned upon, but the fact that this flesh did not belong to her was what would get her in trouble. The joys of working with a stark-raving mad Lich-girl with an undead kitty.

The Slavemaster listened to Alice-Mommy Robyn-rin noted. He wasn't saying anything either- the ruddy color that his cheeks had been seemed to be on the wane too. What was going on? What was Alice-Mommy telling Mr. Man-Giving-Us-Moneh-Man that made him so excited as to lose all his color? From what Robyn-rin understood, it was rather difficult for friend-friends to lose color, they naturally had it and naturally wanted it to stay with them.

He babbled something back. Robyn only caught the end.

"... you speak demonic? How?" The Slavemaster was backing away precipitously. Though he did not know the language itself (or rather, how to speak and understand all but the very simplest commands) he could easily recognize it for any slavemaster worse his (or the relatively rare her) salt would have cut deals with the forces of Hel before. It wasn't that Hel was short-armed but demons, demons liked having their own resources and their own temptations. Nubile virgins were the usual trade goods but they were rather hard to come by- The Slavemaster remembered... and shuddered. No wonder they had survived all the attacks. Demon speakers, child murderers... undead cats. It was more than he could take at the moment.

With a grimace the Slavemaster fled. He would pay them their coin once they arrived at their destination and once they were out of sight and mind he would forget they ever existed or that he had ever bothered with this cursed expedition.

Shame burned him, but his instinct to survive was stronger. Pity it wasn't strong enough. The first volley of arrows planted two in his broad belly and one in his arm. The second one killed him by sending one straight into his right eye and to his brain.

" Raiders! To cover! prepare to defend the supply wagon! Do not leave the cover of the wagons or they'll shoot us down at their leisure!"

This was the worst place to fight archers. Especially since they had no missile troops of their own. Only herself and an undead girl. she had an idea though. One that could turn the tide in a sense.

Ignoring her own order she dashed outside before tackling the door to the first slave wagon. She tossed the keys inside before shouting, "Free yourselves! This enemy seeks to enslave you, so if you can fight your way out you've earned your freedom!"

Dropping she rolled under the wagon into the cool-shadow beneath it. she was fairly well-protected here, but also had a good line of site around her.

Where was Robyn...?

The dead horse was dead again.

"Go away," Robyn whispered. "You're just trying to tempt me to get outs of cover. I know your kind!" She waggled a finger at the dead horse who just stared into nothingness. "You're all sweet-sweets and friend-friends on the outside but on the inside you're a meanie-pooh!"

Robyn gasped at the temerity of her own words. She had just accused the dead horse of being a meanie-pooh. Oh tha horror! Then the horse wafted away, to be replaced by... friend-friends? Friend-friends that were running away in any case. Some of the smarter ones were raiding the stash of water and were trying to find a way so that they could flee in relative safety- but when the raiders hit nowhere was safe. The weak were skewered the strong taken prisoner. The lizard-men were riding on giant mounts that resembled frogs if frogs had the legs of a heron and a mouth full of sharp teethies.

Robyn had never seen their like before. It was... disconcerting. To say the least. From behind her wagon, Robyn wanted to run out and attack but for some reason, Alice-Mommy's voice, even all changed, seemed to want her to stay put and then... and then the lizard-men were charging at the wagons, apparently looking for stragglers and supplies. Oh they'd find supplies all right. Just probably not the ones that they were used to.

Burrowing into the wet sand, Robyn inched her way towards a lizard-man that was poking his head into a supply truck...

They were approaching closer. She must've been lost in the mass-confusion of all the slaves running off. they were approaching closer, and ransacking other wagons. It'd be a matter of time before they'd get close enough to smell her. Although the smell of the waste from the slaves probably covered it up better.

she could lash out, hack off one or two, maybe three, at the feet. Then move to another side and engage in faux-hit and run tactics. Eventually she'd simply get pinned down and riddled with arrows.

Unless she split them up, used their comrade's bodies or equipment for shielding. That could enable her to approach them and hack them down, provided they dispersed in an attempt to entrap her.

She could've had Robyn charge and take the arrows without dying. But they couldn't bring themselves to risk her actually dying. They knew Robyn would do as she asked, and it'd torture her for quite sometime if that got the child killed. Best to let Robyn skulk about wherever she was and hope for the best.

Unk'gol'kok was a lizardian though he preferred not to think of his race as a mere 'lizard' but rather as what they were- descendants of dragons. Sure their wings were vestigial nubs that no one noticed anymore and their ability to breathe a shattering array of toxic magicks was non-existent but they were still the brave creatures that dared to be different and dared to be powerful. It was their birthright and they would -not- be denied.

The need for fresh water wasn't to be denied either. Though their stores had almost quadrulpled since the shower, they could always use more of the stuff for in the desert, only true scavengers could survive and his clan was, above all else, survivors. They were all here, playing this game of Life in the manner they knew best and in the fashion that they could understand. Rummaging inside one of the supply wagons of the convo they were hitting he noted the curious lack of sentries. There had been that fat leader but what about-

He stared curiously at his foot. One moment ago, he was fairly certain, it had not had that curious outgrowth of a black shiny metal... shaped like a pommel really. Like a- with a start he was about to call out, realizing that there was a dagger jabbed hilt-deep into one's own ankle was *not* a pleasant way to start off a raid but then he fell. The pain, the surprise all flooded his system and he was thus completely incapable of warding off a rather surprisingly strong tug that took him to the very bottom of the supply wagon where... where all he saw was teeth. And two beady blue eyes.

One of the lizardmen started grunting in their native-tongue. A crude language os hisses and barks. After killing them she should skin them for a good leather-pelt. She lashed out with her sword, chopping off his foot and causing him to fall, screaming out as his stump failed to find purchase in the mud.

Thrusting she impaled another foot with her sword, sending the lizardmen down in a heavy, writhing heap. Pulling the sword out she jabbed it again and again. Punching holes into its hide until its writhing became spasmodic than actually controlled.

Rolling to the opposite side she stood up just to take a clawed foot to the face. They tumbled ass-backwards and landed heavily in the mud, fresh blood running from the cuts on her throat. As the creature barreled towards her with a scimitar, she flung a clod of mud at its face, blinding it before she plunged the longsword into its throat, nearly severing the head from the body.

So much work to do...

Do not panic.

His father's voice. It was calm, re-assuring, like a balm over the soul. Unk'gol'kok considered the words, the wise and strong leader that his father had been and quietly admitted the obvious: he would never be the leader his father would be. Not now... and perhaps not ever. If he survived this ordeal he might, just might become respected enough to hold some political sway. But survival was starting to look more and more difficult at the moment. The creature's blade was incredibly sharp and he was losing... lots of blood. Too much blood.

Strong as he was, Unk'gol'kok could not seem to get rid of the creature who was busy hacking away at his chest armor. It protected him for the moment, but in his attempts to ward away blows he had lost fingers and then, when trying to lift the wagon above him with sheer leg muscle... he had failed. It had galled him. None of these setbacks were permanent (he could re-grow the fingers after all) but it did seem to be portentious. How could he lead a clan if he died underneath a wagon? Or was nearly killed underneath a wagon? Ridiculous.

Do not panic

Unk'gol'kok took another deep breath. That was right, the secret was not to panic, never to panic. Think things through rationally and-

"You're a Meanie-pooh Mr. Jinksy-jinks." Robyn reported. "Meanie-poohs don't need eyes."

The bloody thing was still alive! It snarled and spat at her while driving her blade in deeper by pulling itself closer. Raising the stone-axe Triella lost focus for a moment. The slow swing left her paralyzed, unable to look away from the killing blow. And in the last moment, she ducked, and felt it cut up some of her brown hair.

Drawing her dagger she plunged the blade in the soft-flesh under his jaw, hammered it up into the base of his skull and then into the brain. He spasmed a few times before going limp.

Pushing with a bit of force she made the body fall away from her, and she snatched up her sword after ripping it out. Looking around at the rapidly-approaching lizardmen, she knew she needed to keep these fights one on one.

Hopefully Robyn was still okay. There wasn't screaming or anything yet, so...she wasn't actually sure. She knew Robyn hadn't rushed out at least. Was the girl digging around in the sand like an undead-beetle?

The meanie-pooh no longer had eyes. But Robyn-rin no longer had four fingers. That was kinda sorta annoying. Really annoying actually. Robyn-rin liked her fingers and she wasn't terribly (Keen, the Chef snorted) yes, keen on replacing her fingers with the scaly lizard fingers that the giant lizard meanie-poohs had. And it was really hard when she was missing two thumbs. Thumbs were important stoofs in the life of a hand. No one seemed to properly appreciate thumbs until they were gone.

"Give back my thumbs!" She told the lizard-man meanie-pooh. The lizard-man meanie-pooh coughed weakly, sightless orbs staring at her. He murmured something in a language she didn't understand.

"Give them back!" She said again, hitting him over the head with her four fingered hand. She couldn't make an L anymore, so she didn't know which was her left and which was her right. "Robyn-rin needs her fingers! All her fingers! If Robyn-rin doesn't have all her fingers, Robyn-rin will become a 'useless crybaby' and then Alice-Mommy won't luff Robyn-rin anymore! Robyn-rin needs Alice-Mommy to luff Robyn-rin! Give them back!!"

She hammered and hammered, but there was nothing to it- the lizardman refused to return her precious fingers.

"Fine then." Robyn-rin muttered mutinously. "I will keel yoo and then I will keel yoosa friends and then I will take *their* thumbs."

The lizardman seemed to be weakening- from pain or from loss of blood one couldn't be certain. In any case, he was certainly dying. Robyn had tried to bite his throat out but he didn't seem... 'amenable' to having his throat bitten out. She had tried to eat his tongue but that hadn't quite worked out either and had resulted in the loss of her fingers in the first place. After that particular catastrophe she had simply grabbed her nice, dark, sharp-sharp and proceeded to stab him a many, many times.

He gave a strangled hiss when she did it again and then he flopped over. Robyn tentatively tried to open his mouth and then he snapped it again and Robyn nearly lost her hand. She was quicker than him though and moved out of the way in time.

"Ahhh, yous meanie-pooh and your tricksy-tricks." She sighed. "I'll defeats you yet!"

There was a tremor-inducing growl as a hideously large newt-like creature hauled its bulk around the wagon they'd been using as cover. The creature was brown with dried out scales, multiple scars riddled it's skin like trophies of battle. The reptile eyes were devoid of anything beyond an unending hunger, and the three foot wide mouth with at least three rows of teeth testified what it hungered for. As if the rotting flesh wedged into it's teeth and human-bones adorning it like a chain weren't a bit enough tip off.

The mounted warrior had a large crest of bone in it's skull, giving it a lizardman-version of an officer's cap. Whether this one was the leader or not remained to be seen, but most likely this was just one of the more genetically-superior ones in the little group. His armor was almost completely lacking, possibly some cured leather in addition to his scales. Most of it was covered up by the tattered remains of various shawls from those he'd killed, guessing from the bloodstained nature most of these articles had. A rack of javelins stretched from over it's shoulders, like lengthy spines. One of the iron-tipped throwing spears was hefted in one hand before the powerful arm extended, throwing the projectile at Triella.

Pushing herself to the left, they stumbled slightly from the mud and the weapon grazed her arm, cutting through her sleeve and severing her flesh with a light gash. Not deep, but the poison lizardmen frequently used could make the wound a bit more dangerous. Hopefully most of it had rubbed onto her clothing, or at least diluted. If they were lucky, the altered host-body could fend off the toxicity long enough to achieve victory.

As the giant newt thundered towards her bellowing out, Triella yanked up the stone axe from her former adversary and threw it at the creature's face. The heavy weapon collided with it's snout and cut in a few inches, but otherwise did no more damage to it than she'd just suffered. However the rider had reared back to compensate for this to stop the creature from trying to eat the axe, and most likely suffering dangerous internal injuries from the impact. This had given her an opening.

They'd dashed up in the wake of the weapon and moved to the left, their own slogging and erratic footsteps going better than the large beasts clumsy and mud-sinking attempts at movement, nearly pitching the rider off of the harness. As the lizardman started to tip towards her right, she was waiting on their left side and savagly lashed out at his throat with her longsword.

He was jerked off of his saddle and to the mud, landing on the stump where his head should've been before crumpling into a limp-pile. Picking up his head, they waved it slowly in front of the large reptile who'd finally dislodged the weapon. Watching the piece of meat, the riderless creature started going off after it when she hurled the thing at a pair of lizardmen archers who were now panicking and peppering the creatures with their arrows.

Only a dozen or so left...

The stoopid lizardman was finally dead. It had been a surprisingly unsatisfying end. First he had sort of... sort of muddled his way into choking up dark, frothing blood and then he just jerked uncontrollably for a few instants and then he was completely still. Robyn knew- she had just poked her hand inside the lizardman's snout/mouth thing and had retrieved both her fingers and a long pink flabby thing that she was pretty sure was a tongue. Or something like that in any case. It was huuuuuuuge! But was it a tongue? Robyn couldn't be sure. It didn't taste like a tongue. It didn't smell like a tongue. It didn't even look like a tongue. Therefore... it may have been a tongue.

The tangy flavour was pretty good though. Robyn would have to be back for more!

Mmmm. Actually it was very, very, VERY good. A bit like cheeken. Robyn would have to ask Alice-Mommy to help Robyn-rin turn lizard-people into treatsies. And then everyone could share treatsies together! Robyn felt like saying 'Yay!' and doing a small pirouette but she was still under the ickle cart thing and it wasn't wise to do pirouettes under ickle carts because pirouettes under ickle carts tended to make ickle carts do bad things like 'fall apart' and 'fall on Robyn-rin.' Robyn-rin didn't want important cart-cart to fall on Robyn-rin. That would be terrible!

Crawling determinedly out of the cart, dragging the body of the soon-to-be treatsy-peatsy she spotted Alice-Mommy doing some weird things on a big lizard. Unfortunately something else spotted her too and a trio of lizardmen broke off from the attack and swiftly headed towards her, apparently more than a bit bemused that a small girl was carrying their would-be leader in one hand and dragging him around like a bad sack of potatoes.

A bad, leaking sack of potatoes.

"Alice-Mo-" And then Robyn had to nimbly leap into a spear-thrust that slammed right through her gut and narrowly missed her spine. Something yowled. It was lucky for Robyn that she hadn't met an annoying blob with massive powers of un-luck just yet because if she had that spear would have surely slammed right through her spine and then wouldn't everything be a right pickle? Fortunately the spear was only a minor distraction (it was pretty heavy after all) and so Robyn- with much sadness- tossed the corpse of her treatsy away into the oncoming lizardpeople and watched as it bowled over one of them. The other two were nimble enough to leap away and come at her and she surprised them by turning around and then hopping backwards.

Pointy stick made contact with lizard-tackle and one living corpse and one dying corpse was smother poor Robyn-rin.

The left flank was busy trying to kill, and failing, the riderless mount. The right side had become congested by a small cluster of lizardmen. Faint little blips of motion hinted that some of the more stealthy ones were moving around to the rear by using sand dunes and their own natural camouflage as cover. Things were looking a little better, but was in no way victory within easy reach.

Triella was about to advance in the wake of the creature she'd sent thundering off, try and finish off survivors and lead the beast on a merry dance to the others. Then Robyn crawled out. They'd actually forgotten all about her. Not too odd considering they'd been fairly close to being eaten, chopped in half and skewered in a minute or so.

The targets on the right just swarmed at Robyn like flies to carrion, which wasn't a vast stretch of a metaphor concerning Robyn. Most likely relying on instincts, the undead child cut down her opponents from three to two, and then down to one. The corpse was an issue though, but to get a clean hit the living one would have to move it's comrades corpse.

Picking up one of the javelins from the formerly living rider, she threw the projectile at the lizardman who was starting to rise after pushing off the mutilated body. The weapon fell short and plowed into the mud. Triella wasn't really a javelin hurler. Grabbing another one she held it back a bit further and threw it again. This time the weapon flew true, but with a sweep he turned the bolt aside with his light shield.

It got his attention though, leaving Robyn with only one foe to deal with than two. Something bothered Triella though, what if Robyn went berserk like back in the undead-filled village? True she'd start ripping the lizardmen limb from limb...but she'd just as equally be vulnerable to any coordinated attacks by the lizardmen.

Be that as it may be, the only thing they could do now was fight and hope things would turn out in their favor.

The dead lizard person was taking a while to die. Which may have indicated that he wasn't dead yet- but all things considered he might as well have been. It wasn't possible to recover from a wound that had completely destroyed a kidney, as well as all the intervening layers of muscle, intestine, skin and scales in both directions. The pain alone would have killed most sentient creatures but lizardmen were made of sterner stuff and once the mental shock passed it was only the disordered impulses from the brain to the body that were forcing it to jerk spasmodically as the brain tried and failed to take control of a quickly failing body.

The dying lizard person tried to growl, or snarl or yip or... even hiss. Once again, black blood frothed forwards merrily- from the wound and from the mouth but Robyn didn't see it as she was conveniently had her tummy to the ground- and the bloody, moving creature was jerking this way and that so quickly that she couldn't get up either and get her bearings straight. Luckily enough, the other lizardman seemed to be exercising his right to caution and was carefully circling the rather gruesome duo. He jabbed his pointy stick at them of course, but was rather unsuccessful and only managed to

Well Robyn could live (or un-liff as the case were) with that. This lizardman was *heavy*. And big. A lot bigger than the lizardman creature Robyn-rin had just keeled. This lizardman was at least three times as big and as heavy. Robyn-rin wondered briefly if she had just destructified a little kid but then shrugged. Meh. Some meanie-poohs were small. Some meanie-poohs were tall. Some meanie-poohs were short. And some meanie-poohs were fat.

Yes, this meanie-pooh certainly was fat. A big fat, fatty!

"I will keel j00!" She promised the meanie-pooh. Unfortunately for her timing, the meanie-pooh chose to give one last spasmodic shake and then it died. Seeing his comrade finally stop quivering the second lizardian leaped forwards, slamming his javelin deep into both his comrade and Robyn. Robyn still got up, spitting out mud and stoof.

The lizardian looked vaguely horrified before Robyn leaped onto him. She never noticed that there was a javelin sticking between her ribs and so she ended up... having to lizard men stuck to her. And she had an Alice-Mommy to save! Ignoring the dying lizardian Robyn-rin rushed forwards as fast as she could, the dead and dying acting like gruesome and morbid chains.

"I'm coming Alice-Mommy!" She yelled. "I'm coming!"