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Mission Code Name: Northern Guard
Contract Patron: BADI
Rank: D
Mission Description: A caravan departing from Lómëdor consisting of five wagons needs to be escorted to Angband, in the Anfauglir desert, where you'll restock, and set out once more for a small BADI port on the northern edge of Eä. There the caravan's cargo will be loaded onto two cargo ships. You'll sail with these until reaching the northern, frigid 'Five Isles'. Our sources say BADI agents stationed there have run into difficulties with their assignment; you'll aid them however you can, before returned to Eä and HQ.
Mission Objective: Escort caravans to Angband, then to the port. Sail to the Five Isles. Aid your guildmates.

Leader Needed: No.
Number of Agents Required: 3
Notes: This will likely be a long mission, and I'll only be allowing ARPers or higher to join. Sorry! One of my alts will accompany you until reaching the BADI port, where he'll leave, escorting the empty caravan back to Lómëdor with NPC agents.

Agents Participating: (Anyone who signs up will be posted here)

• Aralishia
• Geis Coldfur
• Zekhen

Special Participating:

• Kale Arato

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IC to All: The war of the north was not going well. Nearly a year ago BADI received requests for a massive number of agents—nearly half the guild's population—to help the struggling northern cities: five settlements on five frozen islands. Normally such a request would have been refused, but the gold was too great to pass up, and rumors spoke of other favors negotiated between the city leaders and BADI's current guild master. Either way, nearly two hundred members set out to the stark, unforgiving wilderness above the continent of Eä. And there they continue to fight a losing war against a horrible enemy.

The caravans were loaded before sunrise. Heavy-clothed men heaved canvas-covered crates into the backs of the covered wagons, while others tended to the horses. If they were lucky, they'd only need to rest in the wilderness one day: they'd spend the first night in Estolad, to Lómëdor's west, then camp in in the open grasslands, before stopping in Angband and finally the port. Some of the caravan drivers were worried about having to spend time in the desert fortress of Angband. Many a brigand made his home in its great stone walls—waiting for undefended merchants to prey on. The guild was generous with its protection, however, and Sartana had seen it fit to assign four agents to guard the important shipment of supplies; one of which had lived in the desert before, and was likely to have connections within Angband.

Air warming, sky brightening—they were on the road. Lómëdor was but a speck in the distance now, soon to be obscured by the lush greenery of the Ardian wilderness. The rattle of the five covered wagons echoed through the forest. The road was still moist with dew, and each wagon wheel ground itself a trail as it rolled. This was the first of many days on the road. Hopefully it would pass without incident.

OOC to All: Hullo! Welcome to your first mission. Posting order will be determined by whoever posts first, second, third, and so on; once everyone has posted once, the DM will post again, and we'll continue the pre-set order. Feel free to interact with each other and NPCs. Also, think about where you're walking (or riding), as your position may prove important in the future... Ah, one more note: introduce all familiars now, in your first post, so I know what makes up our party. Thanks.

They wanted him along because of Aquis.

Geis considered the knowledge as he rolled it about in his head. He didn't like it but it seemed to be the only conclusion that made any sense whatsoever. He was a novice member... a very novice, novice member in this guild but he knew how hierarchies worked. Everyone that had been part of a pack knew how hierarchies worked. You knew or you died. It was that simple. In a land as harsh as Calaring discipline was paramount- when a single ruined hunt could spell disaster for the welfare of the clan you had to obey the Huntsmaster or prove yourself worthy of his or her position. In Calaring precious little besides survival mattered. Packs existed because hierarchies worked and worked well. Discipline, coordination, focus- a well-made hierarchy could bring out all those traits and finalize them with the efficient brutality that survival demanded. Everyone and everything contributed to the clan.

And Geis knew how much he could contribute in a mission like this: very, very little. Oh he had various remedies he could try and perhaps identify and collect a few exotic cuttings of plants that no one else could- but honestly? He was almost useless on this mission. Which made him suspicious. This was either a training exercise- or something else was afoot. He had spotted the Guildmaster from afar once and there had been... been this otherness that had made his nose twitch. He smelled like no fur-head smelled... almost as if he was made different. From a different place. Oh the usual scents had settled into his skin but there was this alien musk but not- Geis half-suspected- an alien mind.

There was a reason he was being sent out on this (from what he had learned of idle talk) important mission and from what he could conclude it was because of Aquis. Nothing else made much sense. The tools he had at his disposal were his mind, his friendship with Aralishia, and some small trinkets. And Forre, but he was not about to ask the small lizard to go into battle. And the small thing was too wise for that as well he admitted to himself with a small, lupine grin. The creature had hidden talents but battle was not one of them. Not yet, anyways. So it was Aquis. He considered the sprite almost sadly. She had been his clan's guardian spirit, an ancient archelemental of incredible power... a quasi-deity that had brought his clan good luck and better protection.

She had disappeared one day. It was the same year that the plague had struck their village. He had found her, half-mad at terribly afraid of fire in the most unexpected of places: on the moon years and years later. An incredible cumulation of coincidences and happenstance. Her incredible wisdom had been reduced to a childlike intellect... and they were bringing her to a place she feared most- a place of heat and little moisture. She would not like it there. Geis growled as he thought about that- were they thinking about using her as an emergency water source? He had grown protective over the sprite, as she had guarded him and his he would guard her. These fur-heads would not dabble with that they knew not of!

He wondered if Aralishia knew- no she wouldn't have asked him along if she did. This was something that the fur-heads had tried to pull over his eyes but he was wiser than that. He would not be caught unawares by these fur-heads. He was-

"You're scared arentcha?" Aquis giggled. Geis jerked. When had she-? "Don't worry. Aquis will protect you!" The small elemental flexed, as if posing for some context. Geis wondered where she had picked up that particular action... pose... trait... something. "Everyone's scared of the first time!" She continued happily though Geis had somehow lost the trail of their one-way conversation. Habit, ingrained from long ago, meant that whenever she spoke he absorbed. Probably a result of her being a clan guardian and him having been a loremaster in training all those years ago.

"Have fun Geisy-pooh!" And with that she floated off, perhaps to look at the rest of the caravan, perhaps to spook the horses... with Aquis one never knew. But Geis did feel better. In any case... he had a job to do. Sniffing the air, he found the calm center that would allow for him to sift through and identify the dangerous smells- the pheromones that were fear, and excitement... or the coppery tang of blood. Sticking his nose out of the back of the wagon, he cautiously vaulted from the inside (they had wisely placed Geis at the back of the caravan where his scent was less likely to spook the 'horses') and tried to do his job.

OOC: Sorry for poor quality. :grr:

And finally he fell to his knees! Fatigued and almost stripped of any trace of life, Zekhen took a last bite of the native sands while involuntarily ‘kissing’ the hot ground with his cracked and hurting lips… All of his strength has left him long ago, he was at its end, unable to push forward through the desert any longer as his muscles refused to obey him.
A grimace escaped the base of his throat in obvious annoyance at his own incapacity. It seemed as if the whole land turned against him, his instincts too, both with an unmatchable cruelty.

For the past couple of hours the only word he could muster was a seemingly pointless question: “why…” One word spoke for a thousand of feelings: suffering and pain, agony even. It was either pure exhaustion or the macabre scene enrooted deep into his memory that made him cough and spit his crimson. Damn those worms that ate his horse alive, the poor creature has fallen, and he will soon follow. Grief filled his fading eyes as he rested there, using his sunburned forehead to balance himself and not fully collapse.

He felt humiliated and defeated. He hated and pitied himself.

Defiant as ever he smiled to his fate, before he crumbled to the ground. Above him, the orange fireball witnessed his drama, and uncaringly heated up the temperature with each passing second.

His eyes soon closed!

And opened once again to find himself in his cabin! The salvation came from a couple of knocks on his door. Zekhen woke up sweating and breathing heavily, after experiencing the worst nightmare of his life! A nightmare that felt too real to be denied. He placed a hand over the back of his neck and felt the black-scorpion-tattoo hot to the touch. Rising from his sleeping place on the floor, he glanced over to the uniform hung onto the eastern wall. Has he overslept and failed to present for duty in time?

“I’ll be out in a minute!” He took a deep breath and put some clothes on. On the other side of the door one of the guild’s messengers was waiting, with a scroll in his hand, it looked like something official. As soon as the door opened, the documents were handed to the elf.

“Your next mission!” The messenger informed him; he was an energetic young man, with just the age to be a full-fledged member, but not experienced enough to take on dangerous missions. That was only his seventeen summer, despite his young age a lot of potential could be read in his eyes, but it was mixed with naivety. “Are you okay, you look like you haven’t slept all night!” Concern lingered on his face for a couple of seconds.

“I should be the last of your worries...” He paused and hesitated “But… thank you for your concern… and for delivering these papers to me. You should go now, I have to get ready!” The young messenger then spun on his heels ready to leave and resume his chores around the headquarters. “Oh, and one more thing, Arch, please send word to get my horse ready.” He nodded and walked off.

Zekhen waited to be alone before he started to read those papers that required his participation in a mission that involved an escort. It was also specified that he wouldn’t have to fill in as a guard that day nor the following ones as someone else was to assigned to take his place while he was away. His job was to keep the other members safe, and for that he needed a strong sense of responsibility.

An official note, held firmly into the grip of his hand.

The rushing feeling of excitement ‘thundered’ throughout his being, as he read the details of the mission he has been given roughly just two hours to prepare for. The couple of seconds that flew past him seemed like an eternity; an eternity in which he simply stared at that piece of paper, stared beyond those carefully written words. At last, this was an opportunity to return to his native place: the Anfauglir desert, but the last night’s experience still haunted his mind, perhaps it was more than mere nightmare and made him doubt that it was an appropriate time to return to the ruthlessness of his ‘maker’.

He shook his head slightly to clear his thoughts, and eventually made a decision that no matter what were the risks, he will participate as he was probably the most appropriate person for this mission, due to his survival skills in the heart of the desert. It was his home, after all. Whenever his comrades need him, he will gladly oblige, he had a sort of debt to pay.


Two hours have passed.

The rendezvous has caught Zekhen fully equipped for travel, dressed in his usual white billowy clothes and a hard-leather armor beneath them. The weapons taken along for this journey and visible upon the elf were a strangely crafted scimitar and a longbow, while the quiver of arrows stood safely strapped to his left leg as an alternative to carrying it on back. The third weapon was another scimitar, an item for spare, kept hidden beneath the clothing of his horse. His specialty was mounted combat so he could not leave without his trusted mount, a horse that managed to always stand out because its whole frame was adorned with sparkling and eye-taking trinkets, as well as all kind of exotic ornaments specially designed for this sort of thing; it was not only for beauty, but also to confuse the foes. From time to time an albino squirrel emerged from the safety provided by Zekhen’s clothes, and took a peek at the surrounding world from its favorite spot on the elf’s shoulder.

Alongside him, three more agents have been assigned to escort the caravan, fellow members that he hasn’t met before. Things have been hectic before the wagons had finally moved from place, so he didn’t have the opportunity to exchange too many words with the others.

Zekhen placed himself in front of the caravan, and will likely to remain there on the way towards Angband and through the desert, afterwards another will have to take his place as he didn’t know where the port was located. Rumors have reached his ears, that some of his blood-related relatives and former members of the Black Scorpion Allegiance have called the ruined stronghold their home, if he was to meet them, then he should have no problems, and neither the wagons.
Knowing the waste, common thugs would probably be the last of their concerns.

((OOC: I too apologize for the poor quality!))

As the sky revolved around BADI, its vast halls collected shards of light that filtered through carpets of finite particles of dust. The air swirled in the empty halls, still empty as the members departed to their sleeping blankets the night previous. The sun had only just departed from the mountain's stead, each summit covered with a fragile layer of frost. As the sun became hotter as the higtening of sun, the mountains peaks melted, fading slowly into rivers which carved into the stony surface and painted the tale of the mountain. Travelers trekked across the river banks, reading the story. Be it intertwined with time, as same the age as the stone? Only time itself could reveal its own fable, and with it carved the stories of stone.

Each mountain peak be written on the sky, like a stain, a mark of ink on the parchment that on which time was transcribed. Set to the mountains, and find thy past. Set to the sky, and find thy future.

Beyond the mountains be new adventures, new waters and terrains, ones unheard of by the travelers of Ea. The tales of time cannot be sought and found, however many trials and tribulations. They are found when unexpected, when, often, unwished for. To the west, the forest that lay in fog one that guarded the eternity of the tale of time. It be marked by the foreboding shadows, the uncrossable paths, the forgotten melodies. In path to the forgotten forest lay the land of those long dead. The chaotic melodies echo through empty street halls.

Further still east was the Salquedor, the grasses tossled by wind that eternally chased the silent peace. When one was vivid, the other doth fade.

On the eastern shore sit the humble Lomedor, so far from nature, adventure, the battles of chaos and peace. Though thoroughly populated, Lomedor could not compare to the journeys that lay to the west.

But it seemed that a growing castle in the city's walls was going to try.

Along with the sun as it painted vivid hues along the forbidding skyline, awoke a stagnant elf that appeared contented with her lowly position in the guild, her lack of status, her lack of respect.

In every sense and embodiment of the word, this was utterly false.

To the contrary, the elf awoke with the sun in her determination, the golden ribbons floating among the crystal blue. The early rising of the nocturnal elf signified an immediate impulse to improve her status quo, though those aquainted with her could doubt it. Being noted that the elf didn't act on impulse alone, this sudden compulsion wasn't to be ignored. Her pillow sheet was flattened until no plaits were found on the silky white surface, and, routinely, she grasped her new, upbeat follower that took form of a speckled gray wolf pup. He immediately resisted, as the pup Arestu was as well nocturnal. His great, endless chocolate eyes met deep saphire. She could feel the stir of air on nearly bare legs as his tail wagged both ways. He gave her a quick lick on the nose, and Ara combed through his gray hair. She planned, today, to impress. Not that, by any means, she wasn't up to par, but it seemed the guild master in charge of such things didn't notice her upstanding abilities. Geis suggusted that the guardian was 'busy'. Sun Guardian. Hah.

Bare, smooth feet met the soft grass floor, and each blade crawled between the openings between toes. Her feet were young, small, yet fast as an adult wolf and graceful as an egret. She wriggled them, making sure they were ready to take her on adventures far west beyond matter itself, beyond their master, beyond the ends of the earth, as she fancied.

As the guild restrictions demanded, she dressed unlike her usual attire, donning a black blazer and pair of trousers, along with her normal traveling cloak. Today wasn't to be like the others.

She glanced once more adoringly at her feet. They were the ones who would take her where she wanted, no, needed, and they would be the key to her travels. She pulled boots over uncared, dirtied toenails (although her skin looked polished and well tended to) , Ara felt it unneccesary to attend to such frivilous matters. Her fingernails ran through near ratty blue hair. The lack of beauty was surprising to the elf. Not that she cared whether she was beautiful. Not in the least.

A small bit of her whispered that a fresh appearance would impress. The rest, being unlike her stubborn self, slowly agreed. The only harm it migh cause was that she would be late. The elf considered, reasoning that she was awake early enough that it wouldn't matter. She visited one of the main bath rooms, not caring whether or not there was a restriction to higher class members. She took advantage of the early sun and took a short bath in the vast tub. Her hair soon tended to and her appearance fresh. She reasoned that she didn't have much time left, and the idea of pamperment was starting to repulse her.

She took a long walk down the halls until she came upon a series of three wagons, each equally dusty and old. In their own right, you might call them antique. This was not the adventure she imagined.

Her glory would come from the journey, she tried to put light on the situation. The journey. Not your condition. The journey, the journey, the journey. All the same, it didn't seem a pleasurable trip. Especially since she had decided to clean herself up again. Only to be covered in dirt. Dirt, and sand. Dirt, sand, and snow. And ice. Lots and lots of ice.

She took her place sitting on the edge of one of the wagons, her legs swinging out before her.

Her hair, whisking away from her body in dampened chunks, seemed to be deepened as did her quest, her internal sadness. She would be traveling further and further apart from her sister, one she had promised to protect until death, and for whom Ara had joined BADI. The thoughts poured from her like a well she had hidden in her souls depths. As did crystal tears.

The sun's rise was met by a successive, muffled groan from Kale's lips, which where covered (along with the rest of his head) by two long, scarred arms. He moved to expose his green eyes. One twitched as he glanced through the window at his left. “Damned... uniform.” He grumbled, rising, all the time glaring at his rumbled guild attire below the window. D-Class agents weren't given much of anything for their quarters—only a pillow and blanket. So, then, curtains were certainly out of the question. Last night he thought it clever to hang his uniform over the window, if only to guarantee he got to sleep later than the accursed sun would normally allow. But, it had obviously fallen during the night, and his plan was foiled.

Kale yawned, glancing around the rest of his closet-sized room. Oh, the joys of being new to an organization. “'Least I don't have much stuff, anyways.” He sighed. In a corner sat his sword, a massive, broken thing of other-worldly design. Atop it hung his dark green cloak and some clothing. Standing beside this was a life-sized, incredibly detailed gnome statue. Kale's eyes lingered on it for a moment, then brightened. He winked at the thing. “Mornin', buddy.” The rest of the room was filled with empty liqueur bottles and dirty clothing.

The berserker scratched the back of his messy red hair and grabbed an unopened bottle at his side. What did he have to do today..? His guard duty was done for the week, and he didn't have to escort the younglings on their field trip through the city until next week... Guess I'm goin' to the bar. He thought with a grin, popping the top off what he thought was a beer and taking a healthy swig. Slimy red liquid poured sloshed across his tongue. His eyes suddenly widened.

A disgusting taste erupted through his taste buds, soon replaced by a tingling across every inch of his skin. He dropped the bottle and spat out what he could just as his door opened, revealing a bright-eyed youngling, dressed in an immaculate BADI uniform—or, what was one. She screamed as backwash sprayed across her clothing; Kale's eyes bugged from his head as his hands grow leathery scales, which hardened and continued to spread and sprout across his body.

Ten minutes later he was in the infirmary with the unfortunate girl and a medic. “Damn well forgot I had one of those potions! Thought it was a 'lil bottle of whiskey or somethin', ya know.” He laughed, patting the youngling light-heartedly. She nodded grimly, pushing his hand away from her newly changed clothes. The medic examined Kale's side. “Since you only took a sip of the dragon scale concoction, it should wear off in a few more minutes. Nothing to worry about.” He explained, leaving to attend to another patient. The berserker nodded. “Thanks, doc!” The gnome statue from his room sat clasped in his left hand. He leaned towards it. “'Guess you were right 'bout cleanin' my room. I'll hafta do it-”

“Agent three seven!” The girl cried, with a salute. Kale stopped, turning to her with a quirked eyebrow. She continued. “I was requested this morning to bring you a reminder of your mission, which you'll be undertaking today!” The man stared at her for a moment. Oh jeez.

There was no time for breakfast. This hit Kale hard. But, he couldn't afford to be late for another mission. He was already at the bottom of the guild's hierarchy; any lower and he'd be a damned youngling! And the thought of class time filled with reading and writing brought a shiver up the berserker's spine. No. He'd be on time. Massive unwieldy weapon strapped to the back of his green cloak, red hair bobbing, gnomish companion clutched at his side, he darted out of the manor, through the courtyard, and out the main entrance. Just as the caravan exited Lomedor's gates, he joined its side, stepping in line with his fellow agents.

The going was fairly tough. At least, for Kale it was. Gnomey weighed fifty pounds. He was made of solid stone, after all. “Gnomey, buddy, you've gotta start losing some weight.” He whispered, switching the heavy companion to his other arm. “Hey hey, I didn't mean nothin' by it.” The man continued, eyeing the cone-hatted figure sympathetically. “You're giving me a good work-out. Really!” He winked at his friend and turned to the wagons ahead of him. He was in the rear. There were three other agents with him. An elf girl, who was hitching a ride in the back of one of the wagons, a scimitar-wielding elf male riding a horse up front, and a white-haired lupine, who reminded Kale of his former companion, Geoffrey, who he missed frightfully. Not knowing their numbers, and content in talking to Gnomey, Kale kept to himself as he walked.

IC to All: Going is easy. The sun rises to reveal a truly wonderful day, with not but a few passing clouds obscuring the beautiful blanket of blue above. The air is warming, and it looks like it will turn out to be another sizzling summer day.

While few people are on the road, you do end up passing two separate wagons; one pulled by a mule and driven by a friendly farmer, who glances at the four of you wearily. He's hauling a number of sacks undoubtedly holding grain, flour, or some other mundane product. The second wagon is covered and full of furniture, most likely the belongings of a family moving to the city. Shortly after this wagon passes, and the caravan rounds a bend, you pass three men traveling opposite you down the dirt road. One is clothed in red robes, with his face hidden. The other two are dwarves, clad in studded leather armor, one of which carries a sword nearly his height strapped to his back. The other leads a haggard-looking dog on a leash. As you pass, the hooded man nods to Zekhen, who is riding up front. The man's face is gaunt, and a scar runs up the middle of his top lip. The dwarves do not make any move to acknowledge you or your caravan.

Shortly after they pass you, all three disappear into the woods along the road.

OOC to All: A couple things. First off, Geis, that hooded man smells something like a frozen corpse in a sandbox; a hint of death, covered by the crispness of ice, sprinkled with sand. Odd, I know! Given your sense of smell, I think you'd be the only one that picks this up. The dog led by the dwarf is a desert breed known for its tracking abilities. It has a slight limp, and its paws, oddly enough, show very subtle signs of frostbite. Also, Zekhen, you're the only one who catches what the hooded guy's face looks like. Any details I give can be picked up by any character; they're only here to intrigue you and get your character thinking. Just remember that your character will not notice everything all the time.

Aralishia had been crying. Geis could smell the tears- the salty, bitter taste of sadness that all mortal tears were made of. He couldn't acknowledge it though, not here where they were part of a pack that had not yet acknowledged them on the hierarchy. And Geis knew her well enough by now to know that she was confused as to the nature of weakness and could very well be offended by any attempts at helping her reconcile herself with them- and the nature weakness was not a lesson that could be learned overnight, or even over many years. It was the sort of epiphany that one had after experiencing enough of the world to acknowledge one's own failings without blushing.

Geis did not know if Aralishia could yet do that. And until she did, until she confronted the monsters of her own making, he could do little except ask questions. Perhaps she would not confront the demons, perhaps she would. Perhaps she would even consult him in the matters that were so near and dear to her heart. Geis neither wished for nor abhorred her confidences if she so wished to include him in them-

Aquis giggled from somewhere off. Maybe it was more than a laugh than a giggle. For a moment Geis thought he heard Her again and was swept away by the currents of time and memory. Apprenticeship, Mastery, Artisan, Fatherhood... they came at him, pecking at his mind but curiously restoring it too. It was like bathing in the icy waters of Calaring again, painful and yet refreshing. He looked back on the residue of his former thoughts and lay there for a moment, stunned.

Since when did he... since when had he looked -down- upon others? Upon packmates? There was a certain ridiculousness to life that he had always noticed about furheads but never had he...

Then he laughed. It was a sort of a yip that he hid or at least tried to but quickly spiraled out of control no doubt alarming the ones who were here with them and quite possibly pissing off Ara. He had heard a fur of a fur-head expression... "getting a fat head." This seemed to be as good a demonstration of the expression as any- how could he have become so conceited as to silently lecture a wolf-kin friend when he himself could not admit to the presence of his own emotions? Emotions such as care and concern that he had locked away ever since, but nevermind. He was getting a 'fat head.' to himself that he felt concern for the furh- no, elf. No doubt his ancestors were silently laughing or crying at his colossal stupidity and he dredged out a silent apology and repeated the mantra he had always lived by: "Live to Learn. Learn to live." He would ask Aralishia what had been bothering her.

But now was definitely not the time for such talk. But at least he could be there for her, in presence if not in voice so he slowly looped p behind the caravan Ara was riding in. Besides, there didn't seem to be much happening- he had caught scent of life's slow cycle- nothing out of the ordinary.

Time passed slowly. It was well-merited though, for the scenery was full of sights and scents that were both new and wondrous. Several new species of flora and fauna caught Geis' eye and he made a mental note to return so that he might at least take a few cuttings of the various herbs here for future investigation. He had heard much about the resources of the library and was now more than tempted to take a look after he had finally learned how to read. Maybe Aquis could fetch some for him... but no, even if he were to freeze the roots and shoots it would not be fresh enough. He would have to come back for samples.

And besides, it was starting to become hot. The white-furred lupine briefly wished he had left his B.A.D.I. uniform behind. The itchiness it caused was starting to get intolerable. He would have probably started to go mad if he had sweated as much as a fur-head, instead he let his tongue droop out panting heavily as the sun slowly made its unfamiliar trek in the sky. At a certain point he must stopped paying attention, walking forwards from sheer instinct for it was only when he caught the sound of yet another crop of wheels moving did his eyes flare open and notice that the scenery had changed completely.

But they had already passed him by. He felt his ridiculous second skin cling to him- he had been sweating profusely. Lovely.

And then his note caught the familiar scent of death and he felt his hackles start to rise. It was an instinct, bred into those who lived in the North. Because it preserved and because it was a wasteland of sorts inhabited by small settlements or by nomads, it attracted the foulest of magic-practitioners: the necromancers. So strong was the revulsion and so great was the memory that for a moment, Geis thought that he actually smelled the familiar tundra of his home. But then the moment was gone and he smelled... dryness. Odd. So pre-occupied was he by this bizarre juxtaposition of scents that Geis didn't even note the other strangers passing the road, focused as he was upon the hooded one.

Was he a necromancer? Geis didn't know. And he had other ideas too, ideas so fantastical as to seem completely ridiculous. Brooding, he debated with himself as to what he should do with his suspicions. And they were merely suspicions...

Being at the bottom of the hierarchy does not hold too many advantages for one belonging to a guild of such stature and intensity as B.A.D.I., the D-class rank was an uncomfortable and unsafe position, and not many managed to get beyond that stature, because of their mere inability to fit into the organization’s requirements. And of course, even years later after his clan was decimated and the surviving members hunted down across Ea, Zekhen included, he never thought of pledging his allegiance to something or someone, but the world is unforeseeable and things don’t always work as planned. He could have been caring less about anything else than his own survival a while ago, not to mention about fighting evil and eradicating it from Arda. But, the whole matter quickly turned into a personal vendetta as a consequence of a wave of sustained attacks coming from a group of extraplanar creatures which almost took claim on his life, not too long ago. He has been pushed to the verge of death and suffering beyond’s one’s comprehension; people of the waste are easy to anger and slow to laugh, their grudges against something that wronged them were known to continue even beyond their end.
Carried into their abyssal lair he has been tortured and his weakest point, his Achilles hill exploited. The sandy elf carries a dark secret hidden deep within his bloodstream, a strange dependency on the most uncommon of substances that sustained his life, and contrary could put it to an end in a second.

Dust he would have been, if it hadn’t for B.A.D.I…

---

So far, the journey unfolded without a single incident, the day was wonderful and perfect for traveling; the sun kind to them, perhaps too kind… Back where he lived, the sky was ruled by a different face of the sun, a cruel one that allowed little vegetation and creatures to make their existence there. However, it was a little too early to jump to conclusions in what concerned the quest ahead, the contract that still needed fulfilled. It was a long one, for that matter, that would probably take days, maybe weeks to complete. A lot to walk, and the caravans were slow, not to mention very appealing to any thug that usually made their day hanging around the main roads, always plotting an ambush, waiting for the perfect opportunity to attack defenseless goods and get rich over night. These vile people were the reason, in the first place, why the caravans were always under the protection of employed guards.

His horse trotted along the road as the couple was still in the lead of the caravan; for the following seconds the rider turned his head and looked backwards, sizing the first driver up. Meanwhile his thoughts were filled with questions of who and how his comrades were, too bad that he no one initiated a conversation with him so far. It seemed that everyone focused on the business.

“It is a wonderful day…” His voice broke through the monotony created by the sound of the wheels. “We should take full advantage of it and enjoy every single second that passes by, for the things are soon to be changed.” The driver did not respond, but instead he displayed a perplexed face to the elf, probably thinking that he was a mad man. But he knew that the ‘wonderful’ will turn into ‘terrible’ as soon as they will cross the borders of Anfauglir.

The attempts of having a friendly conversation so early in the journey seemed to be disastrous for Zekhen, but he didn’t have too much time to play with those thoughts, as a another group of adventurers, three figures, appeared into the range of his sight, since early. Being an elf allowed him to see farther than any other. His sensors picked up and an alarm has been sent throughout his body; he remained focused on the three men for minutes as they approached more and more and eventually they crossed paths.

The tall figure, belonging to a human male most likely, accompanied by two sturdy dwarves, didn’t seem to care about attacking the caravan. So, they were not thugs, Zekhen thought, but their appearance was the most intriguing, especially the little detail shaped into a desert-breed dog, how could he not distinguish the traits of the canine as belonging to the same place as himself?
With a bow of his head, the taller man acknowledged the presence of the caravan and the leading rider. The gesture was imitated and returned by the desert elf, and both sized each other up, the scar that ran across the man’s face remaining the main focus of his green orbs for as much as they had visual contact.

Another coincidence perhaps, or another sign? And by sign he understood the appearance of that dog, all in the wrong place by the hands of the wrong people, how on earth they managed to gain possession of such a tracker. He couldn’t know, but he had a feeling that this was not the last time when he will see them around.