The quiet warm night now started its decent upon the breezy grassland below. It was a clear one with the stars easily visible. Along side them in the sky the moon was full and heavy, hanging low in the deep black sky now casting its calming gaze down at the landscape. Everything else was quiet; picture perfect infact. And admist it all disturbing the tranquillity, softly bending the frail blades of grass beneath her paws was a luminescent drake.

Casting one foot infront of the other she progressed at a slight canter, her bulk shifting to the opposite side of her leading foot, fur bouncing softly. It was strange how she always seemed to travel with no idea of a destination or ending point. Often she got up and on a whim walked to places that were yet uncharted in her mind. As she continued she made sure to make a mental note of everything she passed; from the fragrant blossoms to the hanging branches of the sparse trees. Everything was fascinating and different yet familiar as this was one of her favorite places to visit.

Slowing her pace, Kestrel craned her head first to the left, then the right. Her chest visibly expanding and retracting with each pass of a slightly laboured breath. The night around her was a little of the norm, but what caught her eye was a light not too far from where she was standing. It was as if it was almost like a beacon shining in the distance. Naturally Kestrel was inclined to investigate and so she did, beginning a slight trot and then back to her casual canter.

As she kept traveling the light grew brighter and brighter. The yellow orb reflecting itself within her eyes. She squinted slightly, dipping her head a little lower than her haunches set. Yet she was still unable to identify the object of her current obsession. Now getting somewhat anxious the dragon opened her large leathery wings and began to beat them furiously against the wind that was present. Immediately after they were unsheathed a sudden powerful gust lifted her into the air. Kestrel mewled with content as the sudden rush twisted itself through her mane. Flying would now shorten the distance considerably. It wasn't long before she would be upon this light.

Closing in she squinted, a fire? A camp perhaps? Diving a little lower into the covet of the trees she made sure to stay a sure ways back contemplating the idea of landing a few hundred feet short of her destination and walking cautiously the rest of the way.

Jaz Verdek held his hands towards the fire to allow the warmth to drive away the sinking numbness of the night. Although the afternoons in the Grasslands were quite humid indeed, and while the temperatures might remain warm at night, the change in temperature was enought to through off the body which had adjusted to the warmer climate of the day. Steam drifted from his worn leather jacket as the heat forced previously condensing water vapor back into the air. The night was silent, aside from the laughter of the men and the popping hiss of the campfire, and when then they paused, the crickets in the surround sounded as loud as elephants.


He was quite lucky indeed to have wandered his way into the camp of a group of locals, who invited him to join them around the fire. It was rare, in Jaz's opinion, that people were so trusting. Most of those he had met in his journies so far had developed a deep-rooted sense of distrust for their fellow man, a by-product of the harsh, almost constantly violent, environment of Ea.

That the locals had such little fear of strangers meant that either they had lived relatively charmed lives free from privation, or that they were trying to lure him into some form of trap by lulling him into a false sense of security.

Have I changed that much in such a short time? You've spent way too much time amongst mercenaries. He reflected, watching the locals joke back and forth, laughing loudly at each other's jokes as they munched on slices of the lamb that hung on a spit above the fire. But if they're innocent, why do I get such a bad feeling about this?

It had not been that long ago that he had left Lomedor with all of the best intentions about saving the world from tyranny, and now he was questioning the motives of down-on-their-luck shepherd ranchers that had shown him kindness.

It's just you, you fool.

Verdek's yellow eyes flashed back and forth, keeping an eye on each of the laughing bearded men, and trailed up towards the sky. Out in the country, away from the lights of the cities, all the stars in the sky could be seen in their full glory, each constellation perfectly defined, and he could nearly see each river on the surface of the bright full moon. The view of the night sky on land could never compare to that of the sky at sea, but on land there was no rocking of the boat to distract from its majesty.

His elvish ears heard something like the sound of a branch snapping, but when he turned to look back his eyes, contracted from staring at the fire, couldn't adjust to the dark. Without an follow-up, he dismissed the noise as just the usual sounds of nature.

Beneath the waking stars the musterers settled into the usual banter and ruckus of camp, and a rough-made meal. Their barbed remarks and teasing nothing more than the manner in which hard men, and fierce, tell one-another how fond of one-another they truly are. One voice amongst them rang clearer, and more musical; and though he was not even half the height of his fellows, it was clear the little man, if man he could be called, was held in keen fondness and regard.
"You know, Jaz," said he. "There's an old saying about mercenaries, 'Bravos' we call them at home: you want to hear it? Well:
A bravo was hiking in the mountains, and he came upon a shepherd who was tending a large herd of sheep that were grazing in the alpine meadow. The bravo took a fancy to the sheep, and asked the shepherd: "If I can guess how many sheep you have, can I have one?"

The shepherd thought this was an odd request, but thought that there was little chance that the man would guess the exact number of sheep, so he said "Sure."
The Bravo guessed "You have two-hundred and eighty seven sheep,"to the shepherd's astonishment, since this was exactly how many sheep he had.

The drummer got all excited and asked "Can I pick out my sheep now?" and the shepherd grudgingly gave his permission. The Bravo selected his sheep, bent over, and swung the sheep over his shoulders, to carry home with him.

The shepherd then got an idea and asked "If I guess what your occupation is, can I have my sheep back?" The Bravo was a bit surprised by this, but figured that it was unlikely that the shepherd would be able to guess his occupation, and went along with the deal. The shepherd then guessed "You're a mercenary, aren't you?"

The Bravo was very surprised and asked, "How did you know?"
The shepherd responded, "Put the dog down and we'll talk about it.""

The musterers howled with laughter, at the expense of their bewildered guest, clapping him on the shoulder, and pouring for him more than his share of the nights mead. Cheers Bravo said they, and your good health, and all your kind!, always with a wink, and a lot more laughter. Ferdibrand eased his feet nearer to the fire and laughed so heartily, he felt as if he'd had a full meal; though the skewers were only beginning to turn golden over the coals. He eyed them greedily, and settled back to wait, thinking for a moment he heard movement in the trees to the rear of their camp, to which the keen hearing and eyes of many of the shepherd was turned. This alone was more than enough, at least in Ferdibrands' mind, to prove their must be something there.
Ferdibrand was beloved of his companions not solely for the keen edge of his tongue; rather it was, as was his way, because of the times like this, when he dragged himself up to investigate.

The enclosure came nearer and nearer in sight as the young drake pressed on. By this time it was now notable that this light was indeed a fire, and around it sat several humans. This must have been a camp or just this night's establishment, whichever the case Kestrel was amused. Ears pressed back against her neck she continued on cautiously eyeing the many details of the little settlement, setting one large quieting paw over the other. As hard as she tried to keep herself completely silent there were still the minute noises giving her position away such as the occasional crunch of leaves on the woods' floor or the snapping of a weak brittle twig.

Casting a worried gaze to the ground beneath her eyes swiveled quickly from down to up now able to hear a quieting din amongst the band of people. Had they heard her, she wondered. Black and amber eyes were now fixated upon the flesh colored sillouettes. They had moved and indeed some were now staring in her direction. Feeling as though her curiousity had moved a slight bit too far, Kestrel began her backwards decent trying to step over the vines and roots of the trees that all too easily held her step. It was a contest enough just to back out of there undetected and it was no help that nature wasn't on her side.

Backing up slowly it seemed as though even the wind around them, the settling breeze, picked up a sudden chill almost mimicking the chill she herself felt within the core of her body. It blew suddenly sending a refreshing, or perhaps a not so refreshing, rush against their already windblown faces. The amber orbs now again looked up to study her spectators. Hopefully she was deep enough in the thicket of trees for its leaves to camoflage her, though it seemed unlikely as the scales upon her head and stomach seemed to gleam even in the dimmest of lights and her fur was more than luminous in the pale moonlight.

The young dragon mewled softly in detest as she felt a little unnerved by the passing glances and stares in her direction. What they probably heard was a gutteral mewl, something close to a sick cat or if they had ever heard a dragon a scared cry.

Kestrel now folded her wings in gently as if to make sure that even the wind that passed under them as she did so was hushed. All she could do was wait for she felt that if she broke into a run they would most certainly find her and even as she heard their myriad yells, whoops, and laughter she didn't want to test her luck. So with a few more steps she continued a little further back though within a fraction of a second her hind hock caught hold of a stray unearthed root and in no time she had let out a very loud yelp as shortly afterwards leaves were sent scattering everywhere. She was sure to be noticible now it was only a matter of time before they found her.

Jaz had been initially put off by the joke at his expense; his knee jerk response, based on a lifetime of being the odd one out, was to retaliate with some sort of ethno-racial slur against halflings. But as the band of shepards roared in laughter, buffeting him with a barrage of well intentioned prods and then passed the mead, he realized had no desire to break the peace with them. For the first time in a long while, he was actually surrounded by quality people. He glanced down at the ground in shame for having only a moment ago been so unduly suspicious of his hosts.

'Bravos,' eh? Sounds better than being called New Jack or Spit Turd.

And so Jaz focused on thinking up a witty rebuttal to rebuke the halfling with. After months of handing around in the Drunken Dragon, it wasn't that hard. He opened his mouth to speak, but the halfling was no longer there.

Halfling had lept to his feet, followed by the other shepherds, who clearly thought they heard something in the thicket. Their previously loud banter became a series of dialectical whispers that Jaz couldn't decipher. He then rose to his feet too, and turned in the direction of the commotion. He drew his trusty longsword in preparation for whatever was to come.

A loud yelp rose from the darkness, and Jaz was certain, whatever it origin, it wasn't just a sound of nature. He couldn't see anything in the darkness, but it occured to him that whatever it was might not be a predator.

A predator would attack instead of hide

The shepherds fanned out, with the halfling taking the lead. Jaz held back, pondering the situation.

Unless it's a really smart predator that wants us to think it isn't one

Stop second guessing yourself. Just find out what it is.

"Oh, to hell with this," He muttered to himself, and began putting his hands through a series of passes that he had learned a while back, to utilize the one magic spell he knew. "LIGHT!"

Suddenly his sword became a beacon, tearing away the darkness around him, filling their clearing with a riot of color.

About half a mile away...


Rhyl'drin woke with a start. For a second of uncertainty, he tried desperately to remember where he was. It certainly wasn't the Underdark, his home- the sky, full of unbearably bright stars and a hideous moon, made that obvious enough. The moon... flashes of memory flooded over the young Drow. He'd been dreaming, although it was more a nightmare than a dream. It had all seemed so real- it was like reliving the worst moment of his life.

The fuzzy state of confusion resolved into clarity as Rhyl'drin remembered. The grasslands. He'd been in the grasslands for over a week now... but something was not right. His keen ears had recognized it instantly- the droning of crickets had for a second been replaced by a roar of some sort.

Rhyl'drin stood and tilted his head so as to better catch the sound. It was like a chorus of voices, all rumbling at once, almost screaming...

Laughter.

It was a foreign thing to Rhyl'drin. He didn't remember the last time he had laughed himself, and he certainly hadn't had any cause to do so since he'd come to the surface months ago. Whatever someone was laughing about at this time of night, Rhyl'drin had no idea. Don't people sleep out here? But of course, Rhyl'drin realized, out in the grasslands, it wasn't like they were really disturbing anyone. In fact, the chances of him being close enough to hear it seemed so slim, Rhyl'drin marveled that it had even happened. In an endless world of grass with few travelers, the chances of there being two camps within a mile seemed impossible.

He listened for a few moments, then decided he'd had enough. Reaching for the leather bag that contained all of his earthly possessions, the tired man rummaged through it until he found what we was looking for. The kirknen root had a strong effect when ingested orally: it could make you dumb, and it could make you sleepy. It grew abundantly on the plains, but Rhyl'drin had only pulled a few- he rarely had need of a sedative. He didn't like the idea of being less alert out here on the grassland, but he was willing to risk it for a good night of sleep.

Just as he was about to chew the small bit, he stopped short. Something inside of him was screaming not to- it was telling him to go investigate the camp. He'd spent months on the surface and had barely spoken the entire time. He'd exiled himself long enough- the drive for interaction with other sentient beings was too strong. There was the chance that any fellow travelers would be offended or even frightened by the sight of a Drow dressed in dark colors out on the plains, but Rhyl'drin, despite his cautious nature, realized that he didn't care. The Drow started off towards the direction of the sound, not knowing what to expect but curious all the same.