On a world as ancient with civilization as Ecetopia, few are the lands untamed and unfrequented by mortals. Fewer still are reaches pregnant with secrets untold and rumors maligned equally by time and twisted tellings; few, yet present. Such places exist, known to mad mendicants and enlightened gurus. Such a one is named Rzail. Within that accursed subcontinent’s boundaries a blight preternaturally strips the land of vegetation, darkness, and light; twilight holds eternal tyranny over petrified forests, sand flats, and noxious bogs; and madness ensnares all but the hardiest of fools who dwell long within its borders.

Yet fools there are.

Amongst that tight coterie of misanthropes and pariahs are aboriginals, rustic ranchers wild as the befouled soil they subsist on, adventurers yearning to discover themselves by losing themselves, and scientists attempting to discern the future by understanding the past—but in a manner well outside the mainstream. Of the latter, a team of crypto-archaelogists, from the University of Eceterum Alacis, recently descended on Rzail’s Doch Mol ruins, an historical site mostly buried beneath dunes the color and texture of dead flesh that undulate as far as an eye can see.

The name Doch Mol they ascribed to an ancient fortress, although the only evidence for such are the ostensibly innumerable layers of bodies, a thousand generations dense. These hint yet at what may have been a vast city. Added to that is another oddity, a pillar unearthed and decoded from its ancient tongue that reads:

“Karnorouri, Seer of Seers,
Whose gaze doth scry the edge of time,
Sees not the end of old Doch Mol,
Where eternal reigns dare rise
Beneath the Mountains of Ez-Lye
Where, by His word, death undies.”

They called it, not to anyone’s astonishment, the Karnorouri’s Pillar. Based on the little evidence at their disposal, they assumed the place where it was found must be the name of the place of which it so ominously spoke. Yet of mountains naught remains. All about is plain and dune where buried life and lifeless brume conspire to blot the past from view. That and the legends of the aboriginal elders who recall an era of a powerful dwarven lich and even now ward their humble villages against the threat of undeath. Even the esteemed colleges of Eceterm Alacis, busily perturbing the final resting site of so many, occasionally shiver at the thought of bones rustling from more than just the twilight wind.

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A heavy boot crunches down on the decaying debris that covers much of the ground beneath it. The sound had become the symphony of his stride. The twilight sky above had not left him for what should have been many days and nights by now, instead following him monotonously as he walked drudgingly over the barren landscape.
The very air itself tasted foul, and there was naught vegetation to be found. For Arex it had become obviously clear that he had been abandoned here to die. But Arex didn't die so easily.

Arex marched endlessly, without direction. He walked for so long that his mind retreated from thought and he basically became an autonomous machine. He had long since lost track of time when the dull flat scenery finally broke and gave way to a petrified forest.

It was in there that he found a hermit rancher who's sanity was far waning. Having fallen in love with the few remaining beasts that he had, the rancher refused to eat them. Instead living on a diet of charcoal, petrified wood and unwary visitors. Arex put the wiry old man out of his delusional misery. He added him to the many skulls of aboriginals and his once suspected family that filled the dugout basement beneath the little shack. Finally Arex could eat and rest.

Time passed as he regained his strength. He dwelled here in recovery for some time. Amongst the shambles of clutter that fill the abode Arex stumbled across info of the Karnorouri’s Pillar. The rancher was seemingly obsessed with it. Chalk notes of nonsense were littered through out pages of books and piled in draws. Scribbles and sketches reached across furniture and walls. Admits all the madness Arex found interest in what the man sought to uncover.
Maybe the insanity was becoming infectious.
Maybe he just saw something of truth and promises in the blurry darkness.

Either way, over the next few days he would eat the last wild pig-like creature and then with a few decipherable notes in hand head off in the direction of the pillar in search of 'Doch Moi' and its lost treasures.

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If the old fools ramblings held any sense of reason or sanity, Arex should find a noxious bog signalling the near end of this petrified forest. One of his many concerns were that he could not accurately measure time nor distance. If he reached the forest edge and was instead greeted by sand flats, then his path had wavered. If there was even a bog to be found at all...

Not only would the bog serve as an important marker and guidance along the journey to the supposable location of the Karnorouri pillar, but it was also supposed to house a small indigenous tribe that would surely possess an elder of quite some local knowledge and experience.
Arex really needed a more reliable source of information than the rambling notes of a lone crazy cannibal.

As he walked under the full weight of all his equipment, Arex mused on a particular poem that seemed of importance as he navigated through the gnarled grasping branches of the lifeless petrified trees.

First it was the stench that hit his nose, repugnant and foul it smelt of acidic death. Despite being repulsive this was a good sign. Soon after the terrain changed, in physicality alone but not appearance. The once solid ash covered ground now no longer a sturdy surface suddenly enveloped his feet and began drawing him in.

Quicksand!!!

It happened so fast and out of nowhere. Arex was caught by surprise, under all his weight and confusion he was sinking fast. Naturally he fought against it. Futile his attempts were. His actions only increasing the speed in which he sank.
Gathering his thoughts he stilled himself. With no aid in site he fills his lungs up and lets out a roar.


After that he falls silent as he waits and listens. Carefully he slowly draws his gun and gets it ready. There was no knowing who or what might respond to that call, if anyone at all...

As he continues to sink he takes one last deep breath before his head goes under. The vestige of his presence but a lonely hand wielding a gun.
Beneath the surface it was utter pure darkness, so deep and cold. Suffocatingly heavy. The ash sand squeezing tightly against his body, restricting movement, denying him of all his senses.

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In the smothering blackness of the crushing irate sand, Arex lost more hours and days struggling below than he did marching aimlessly above. If it were not for the ancient symbiont wearing him like a suit, Arex would have surly perished and remained forever unfound beneath the grounds of Rzail.
But the ancient creature within that writhed about around his innards was not ready to die. It needed a suitable host and would not let him go so easily. After so long of feeding off each other Arex finally emerged, clawing his way out of his sandy grave, sucking in deep gasps of freedom, continuously fighting against the pulling force trying to drag him back down and under. His story would not end here.

Covered from head to toe in the thick wet muck, a very cold and tired Arex collapses on the dirt, almost instantaneously passing out from exhaustion. Sounds and shadows come to dance around him but he is too far gone to even stir...

Fresh oxygen slowly brought new life into his aching body. This was a horrible place to be abandoned.

“Sylvaega…what has brought you to our eyes?”

Sylvaega stood in front of nine beings emanating light of whitish blue. Their gaze was not of alarm, but of gratitude and legitimate curiosity. These beings did not have two arms, but six, and gently levitated above the wooden floor boards of a once charming homestead. The ranch now forsaken and forgotten with no signs left of its former glory, except that of the frame which it still stands on.

“My kindred spirits of ancestral knowledge and guidance, I come before you today in search of answers.” Sylvaega announced whilst standing naked in front of the spirits of his ancestors.

The nine turned their eyes on one another and then back to Sylvaega, each nodded in unison with the other as to signal the question needed answering.

Sylvaega continued, “I come to Rzail in search of the Doch Mol ruins to claim the Ez-Lye Shrine, and I need your guidance.”

One of the nine nodded, “What are your intentions?”

Sylvaega nodded, he knew his request would be met with this question, “I have heard of the powers that lie within the Ez-Lye Shrine, I wish to claim this shrine as my new grounds for further meditation and spiritual transformation. I believe the Shrine can accelerate my development and would be a formidable location for my new home.”

The nineancestral light beings looked around the circle as Sylvaega stood in the center, once again in unison they nodded.

One spoke from the nine, “You will find what you are seeking beyond the Eastern veil and below the line between sky and earth, continue to follow our pull, and find what you are asking to be under your very nose.”

Sylvaega although not completely understanding of what was just said, he had an idea of his instruction. This was not the first time his ancestors gave him nothing more than gibberish to work with. Their message usually became only clear after the solution to the question was met. This meant Sylvaega would need to trust them whole heartedly and his own self, throughout the entire journey.

He nodded and with that final acknowledgement the light beings ascended up passing through the ceiling of the hermitage and back from wherever they came. Sylvaega turned from where he was facing in a complete 180, capturing the sight of his physical body resting in a meditative state. His physical body sat upright in perfect posture with legs crossed, feet resting on the meat of his thighs, and hands pressed together at the center of his chest with his head held high.

One would not be able to see anything if they walked in the room except for the bluish white markings adorning his flesh; illuminating with a consistent pulse of what one might explain to be energy. The astral Sylvaega walked toward his meditating physical body and as he stood above it, he closed his eyes and thought himself back into the physical universe.

When opening his eyes, he could feel the sensation of sight, even though it was dark. His toes and fingers began to wiggle as the sensation of feeling and touch returned. The stale air gave back the sensation of smell, and his taste was met with the saliva being recently secreted in his mouth. He was now conscious in the three dimensional senses and would soon rise to his feet. He was unsure of how long he was in this deep state of concentration, but his stomach growled in a cry to be fed.

To suppress the urge, Sylvaega reached into a small pouch where he kept an ornamental piece to be used for smoking Heyven. It was an herb that grew on his home planet, its origin is of a plant that can be sustained or grown using the life force of a living entity. Sylvaega had a few of these plants on his ship, where he imbued his own life force in them, cloning them for his travels. Heyven has many benefits to Caal or any life form for that matter, suppressing appetite was one of them.

He pursed his lips, still in the lotus posture and snapped his middle finger and thumb of the right hand, while cupping the piece in his left. The snapping of his fingers triggered a small dimly lit flame to ignite in the palm. He gently turned it over and pressed it over the bowl of the piece which contained the Heyven. The stem of the piece stuck out of the enclosed and now laced fingers from where the thumbs crossed. Sucking in gently, his markings began to surge with vibrancy, and then when releasing his breath, the vibrancy diminished. In one big inhalation, the Heyven was gone, and the piece was gently placed back in the pouch for transportation.

To Doch Mol…

Sylvaega rose, walked toward the front entrance of the home and wrapped his hands around the handle for opening. Once standing outside, he took a brief moment to gaze into the twilight drama displaying across the vast sky of this planet. The bright lights of the abyss always scratched a small smile across Sylvaega’s face. It was as if the universe was waving hello and goodbye at the same time.

He stepped off the porch and onto the cold sand, coarse and soft, although contradictory to one another, it was how Sylvaega felt as particles of the dust slipped in between his toes with every step. Immediately a noise of mechanical transformation could be heard behind him as Ark transfigured itself from a defensive turret guarding the porch, into a hovering A.I. orb following over Sylvaega's shoulder.

"Did we find it?" Ark asked with great curiosity.

"I think so," Sylvaega responded as the two headed East over the crested horizon.

If not for the matter at hand, it might have been a lovely day. Sadly, Voph found himself sitting at his campsite and realizing that he was most assuredly going in the proper direction. The corpses of several re-killed undead were strewn about the campsite. The campsite's owners laid dead with them, taken by surprise some time in the night, by Voph's guess. They were near the border of Rzail, which was a dangerous prospect even for an armed individual. Voph used a single boot to shove an undead corpse off a fallen tree, and sat down on it, reaching up to unseal his helmet. He pulled his Datapad from his travel pack, and set it on the tree beside him, tapping the screen a few times to call a voice log to the front.

"Day five. Ten Ayy-emm. I found a campsite, undead all over it. The ones that weren't killed in the struggle, I finished off. One of the campers had a sword, used that to save on bullets. Broke during the fight, though. Pity. It was a good sword."

Voph took a canteen from his belt, and knocked back a swig of water. As he re-caps it, he continues: "I'm going to spend the rest of the day here, I think. The campers deserve a proper burial, as do the undead. Least I can do for the poor souls. Perhaps tomorrow I'll push further into this...Rzail place, unless something changes. End Log."

Voph sighed quietly, and tucked his datapad into his backpack. He looked at his surroundings for a moment, then pushed himself to his feet, looking around for an implement he might use to dig a grave. It had been a long time since he'd taken a job of this scale. Well, Job might not have been the best term. Voph had heard the rumors, same as others in all likelihood, and decided to come investigate. It had been a while since he'd last dealt with an undead uprising. Not since....well, that wasn't important. He'd dealt with such matters in the past, though this was his first time on his own. Last time was under the guidance of his mother and mentor. Now, he had nothing but his own wit and knowledge to go on.

Voph found a shovel that one of the campers had brought, and picked it up. He looked at the surrounding area again, and nodded to himself quietly. Bury the dead today, and if divine intervention didn't offer a better course of action in the meantime, he'd sleep on things, and try to formulate a plan of action for his journey into the Rzail heartland the next day.

//laptop issues, going to be on mobile for awhile so my posts will be lame

Will, also known as Traveller, had landed about an hour ago. He was a several hour walk from where he guessed the obelisk would be and had decided to cover those last hours on foot. Traveling by air would be risky because of how visible he would be. Aside from that, Will also wanted to wait for the backup that was sure to come. As a magically gifted individual, he felt the power in Rzail. It was a power he was certain could level towns once unleashed. Level him once unleashed.

Will didn't believe in faith, but he did believe that the universe always seemed to find a balance. In fact, he considered himself as an agent of that balance, his rune of power being a symbol of balance. In any case, he figured that many powerful heroes would show up in order to defeat the power in Rzail to restore that balance. Of course, he would probably have to wait for their arrival, as he guessed most would be traveling on foot. While he expected several individuals to arrive alone, rumor had it that the Kindred were coming as they usually did when evil arose. Upon their arrival the battle would likely begin, or so he guessed.

Will made two half circles in the air with each hand, both half circles touching to form a circle. Then he took both hands and drew a line through the center of the circle diagonally (Ø). The quickly drawn rune caused a large two-handed sword to appear on his back. The black and dark blue, magic imbued sword felt weightless to him, but to a target, the sword would feel like a being hit by a very sharp war hammer.

Just after summoning the sword he felt a close presence, although he could not tell where it was coming from. It wasn't an evil presence, but it was coming in fast. He summoned a shield around himself, like a second skin. The shield faded into invisibility. He saw the figure approaching him. It was coming from a direction that could only mean that it was traveling into Rzail as he was. He turned his body toward the figure and waited, his body set in a neutral manner.

@Ciaran
And @EchoesofOld feel free to join in, I just don't know where your character is in terms of how far he has gone into Rzail.

Voph spotted the other individual as he crested the hill, and paused to survey the land before him. When he saw that the other individual had stopped, and was watching him, he continued forward to approach the man. "Greetings, Traveler," Voph said, his voice muffled and distorted by the helmet he wore. He came to a stop near the other man, and uncorked his canteen to take a drink, pulling his helmet up far enough to reveal his stubble covered chin and mouth.

As his helmet was dropped back into place, Voph's eyes played about the man's figure, noting the sword, armor, and tattoos. Perhaps a native, could be another foreigner like him. Either way, this man clearly meant business. Voph returned his canteen to his belt, and rested his hand on the butt of his pistol, displayed prominently at his waist. Yet in spite of holding such a confrontational stance, Voph seemed well at ease. "What brings you to these parts?"

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@Mataus

Traveller observed the other man as he approached. Something about Vohp seemed off. He couldn't quite put what it was, nor did he have a guess; the other man was covered in armor. Aside from that, the man was a foreigner, unlike him. His armor was technology enhanced and he also had a gun. Traveller himself had seen several guns in use, but had never actually shot one. All in all, Voph seemed like he would be useful in the restoration of balance in Rzail. "Greetings to you as well. I am knows as Traveller. By what title do you go by?"

The man also didn't seem troubled by his stance, which could be read in several ways. Traveller took it as a confident, yet friendly gesture. Nonetheless, he decided Voph would be an ally in at least this adventure. After returning Voph's greeting, Traveller's green eyes swung back over to where he thought another was approaching.

@EchoesofOld@Ciaran

Rosa had stopped at Wesville breifly in preparation for the final leg of her journey. She sacrifced a whole day doing little more than resting and resupplying, her reasoning being that she could hardly fight a lich or an undead horde while so exhausted. However, the next day, she was on her way again.

This portion of her journey went considerably differently to the rest. She had no experience with the desert, and wasn't willing to take her chances with it when so much was at stake. Instead, she searched for and met someone who could help her - the leader of one of the caravans that travelled through Rzail, cashing in on the wide berth that more cautious tradesmen gave it by shortcutting and reducing costs. He agreed to let Rosa travel with them, on the agreement that she protected the caravan from bandits, undead, and so on for her portion of the journey, and that she provide her own food and water. After this was settled, they were soon on the move.

After some time travelling, Rosa spotted two figures silhouetted against the sand. Both humanoid, but one with a small but noticable amount of bulk around them, probably some kind of armour, and not the medieval kind, either. Which meant that at least one of these was an off-worlder with access to highly advanced gear. Why would someone so equipped travel so far? Rosa was hardly a genius, but she knew the answer to that one, and it didn't surprise her; it struck her as unlikely that she'd be the only one keen to avoid planetwide destruction, so she'd already anticipated the presence of others.

After a brief argument, she managed to convince the caravan leader to wait for her for fifteen minutes or so, and walked down the sand dune towards the pair with a degree of haste, though, obviously, not to the point of running.

Voph's helmet turned to follow Traveler's gaze as the woman approached. His left hand came up to pull his hood back, and remove the helmet entirely, revealing his visor-veiled eyes and mop of black hair. He held the helmet idly by his side, right hand never moving from the butt of his pistol. "I am Voph. Youngest of my father. Well met."

Voph glanced back to Traveler for a moment, then back to the approaching female. His brow furrowed as he squinted, right hand leaving the butt of the pistol to touch the side of his visor briefly, before returning to the pistol. He watched the woman quietly, making a mental note to keep distance between the two. She certainly had the look of a warrior about her, and a brawler at that. His gaze flicked to the caravan behind her for the briefest of moments, then back to the woman. When she was well within ear shot, Voph said, "I cannot speak for my new friend here, but I, at the least, intend your caravan no harm."

Traveller nodded in agreement, "yes, well met, Voph." He said, his voice smooth and slightly deep. With his gaze still locked on the newcomer, Traveller watched as the figure in the distance turned to talk to a caravan he had not seen earlier. Was the figure, a tall female he believed, the leader of a brave desert caravan? Or was she another individual on her way to stop what was stirring in Rzail? If either was the case, then they could have some supplies he would need. He had a tightly attached soft leather bag on his waist, but it could only hold so much water and food.

After a discussion with the caravan the woman started off in their direction at a good pace. She was tall, athletic, and built like a warrior. She seemed to have an air of confidence as she approached. Once again Traveller, as a man skilled in the arcane arts, could sense that there was more to her. However, he could not place what it was, just as he could not place what was strange with Voph. A moment later he heard his newly found companion speak up as the newcomer got closer. "Yes, I too wish you and your caravan no harm."

Rosa was relieved that the others didn't want battle, or at least that they said they didn't. One had a gun (which he wouldn't take his hand off, which was hardly a good sign), and while Rosa had hers, the lack of cover in the desert was not something she wanted in a fight. Nor could she expect to close the distance between them before being hit multiple times, though she expected she'd win in melee. But that was besides the point. The point being that agression would be stupid and possibly suicide.

"I'm glad," Rosa said, in reply to the claims of peaceful intentions. The one with the gun had referred to the other as a 'new friend' - so they had just met. If they were bandits, they were simultaneously very rich and very disorganised, so they probably weren't bandits. Rosa decided to test her other theory instead. "Though, I can't help wondering: why would two heavily armoured men be out here in the desert, risking death from starvation, thirst, or, hell, even being throttled in their sleep? They wouldn't be looking for a certain pillar, would they?"

"That they would. I assume that you have chosen the same path as us?" Traveller replied, his voice friendly. If she sought the same path as them then maybe she was not the caravan leader after all. Which meant that she had some influence to be able to travel with one of the desert caravans. With influence came power and that power would he useful. Perhaps, then, she would be of more use than a supplier. Traveller's gaze moved over to where Voph's hand lay on his pistol. That notion, while a smart move, probably wasn't helping the newcomer come to ease.

"We do not wish for conflict," Traveller restated. He then tapped on his tightly attached side bag. "Does your caravan have supplies? Ah, and I am Traveller and my new companion here is Voph."

"In spite of Traveler's certainty, I have no idea why I'm here." Voph's visor turned between the two as he spoke. His stance shifted as he rested his weight on his other leg, and folded his arms over his chest. "All I know is there's something out here that people are running from."

Whether or not this was true was unclear. His brow furrowed as he studied the female, eyes playing over her various cuts and marks. Voph glanced back to Traveler, growing more wary of the man's eagerness to count him as a companion. Voph wasn't some hard-ass lone wolf type, but he also wasn't the type to start chumming it up with someone he'd known for all of five minutes, if that. Voph turned back to the woman, then continued, "And whatever people run from, my line makes a point to seek out. Though it sounds as if the two of you already have some level of familiarity with this conflict?"

Grug spent most of the flight of KRS Wandering Guardian secluded in his wagon within the cargo bay. He kept staring into the crystal, as if expecting it to speak to him. For some reason he was having difficulty getting started. He didn't even feel them moving yet. Not after a moment, not after another. He wondered what was taking the others so long. Then it was back to staring into the crystal. The Veil seemed to not be willing to withdraw. But why? The Veil had never refused him before! How could he not see into the upcoming fight? Why was this the moment his ability failed him and his allies, now that it was the most crucial that he would see?!

He was already just about to give in when a thought crossed his mind. Perhaps he was trying too hard, or too far. It had always been difficult for him to see the uncertain... he could simply be looking too specifically. What would they see when they would arrive? And suddenly his eyes focused on something nobody else could see. The Veil had withdrawn and Rzail stood before him. The pillar he had seen oh so many times. Him. Humans. Dwarves. More humans. A giant creature as big as seven men that he could only describe as a statue. Then these all faded and another scene took its place. Undead were marching, they had overran... no, that could not be it. The world flashed again, another group standing there, desperately fending off the horde of corpses. No, that could not be it either... that had to be further in the future. Why was everything suddenly so unclear?

The Oracle almost bit his tongue as he forced his concentration to shift between all realities, the timelines that were open to his gaze. A disembodied voice spoke to him. "The Veil protects. Try not break through it, foolish Orc." He recognised the voice. It was Slammy... but when he tried calling out to it, nothing happened. He could not speak. No voice came from his throat, no thought was passed to the creature he did not truly understand. But the scenery shifted. The ship had just landed and outside... Oh no. He was not sure if he could take his wagon with him any longer. The lay of the land... it looked so difficult... rocks, uneven ground, small chasms... no, grass and trees... Many a scene flashed before him, but in the end most seemed to feature the lusher ground, further from the pillar. The journey must be nearing completion. Before his eyes, a series of flashes appeared. A wolvish creature on two legs, accompanied by a man with the weirdest bow and armour he had ever seen jointly attacking a force he could not see. A flash of a magus flying through the air. The statuesque creature again. An entrance to deep underground. Him. Nakreyya. Slammy. Corpses. An entrance to deep underground. Fionn. And a grinning lich floating in the air, the group assembled into combat. The entrance to deep underground.

The Oracle tore himself back to the safe side of the Veil and slowly made his way out of his wagon home, sitting back onto the driver's seat. He didn't know where to begin. Why? What was going on? Why could he not see like he used to? Why had Slammy spoken to him again after all these years? Would he have what it took? He sighed. Now was not the time for doubt. They needed to get back on their fight against the age old evil. And if he died, at least he had tried.

The others soon arrived to the cargo bay, where the Oracle gave them a tired nod. "I see allies in the future. Beyond that... it is difficult to say. I... They are mostly humans. Yet as always, it is an uncertain matter. But I can promise... it is not just us."

@CoyoteLovely@Silvan Haven

"They have supplies," Rosa began, finishing her approach maybe ten feet from the nearest of the other two. "But whether they have any to spare, I don't know, and they're not exactly generous; they might decide not to give you anything even if they can. I don't blame them, not with what it's like out here, but that could be an issue for you."

Another issue apparently being that Voph didn't know what he was hunting. Virtuous in principle, stupid in practice. Rzail's a big enough place to get lost in when you know where you're headed, let alone when you don't. Once you've also realised you don't know what you're up against, it really starts looking like a bad idea.

"You don't know? I'd have expected someone dressed like that to have done their research, but apparently not. Here's the short version: a very long time ago, a very dangerous person did some very bad things and killed a lot of people. Most of the world worked together to stop him and eventually succeeded. Good guys win, everyone's happy, hypothetically speaking, until now. There's reason to believe this person, Karnarouri, is on his way back, and I for one would not appreciate that."

Rosa was almost done speaking when she realised she'd forgotten something. "Rosa Stoneheart," she said, performing a mock bow "at your service."

@CoyoteLovely@Hekazu@EchoesofOld@Mataus@Ciaran



"That's is extremely heartening to hear. I don't suppose you have seen anything else that might be of immediate aid to us?" Fionn said as he picked up what looked like a leather bag full of supplies. A drone had come by to drop it off while Grug was attempting to divine the future. The sound of moaning wind and drifting dust drew his attention as the cargo bay door opened.

The landscape it revealed could only be described as desolate. It was all shades of grey and black and brown. A dessert in name and reality both, any life that had once covered this land long gone. Killed by the necromantic energies released here even before the war that had finished it off for good.

The ship itself had been set down in what used to be a massive river. With the top of the vessel just barely beneath the lip of the sandswept dunes surrounding them. Cloaked or not you didn't take chances when dealing with a threat like this. Fionn squared his shoulders and set off down the ramp, leading the trio out of the riverbed and towards the mountain of corpses and Karnorouri's Pillar.

Nakreyya stood at the edge of the cargo doors as they opened. They were still landing, so her hair was blown by the disturbed air of the ship. She held onto a rail over the doorway, the added point of contact making her as stable as if she were standing on solid ground. She cocked her head to one side as they came down over the horizon, she could see something in the distance...

As they landed, Nakreyya stepped out onto the ramp, beginning forward in silence. Behind her, Anzu watched her movements with intensity, though no emotion. If he was worried about his companion he made no move toward it, but clearly he had some interest in her actions. She crouched down as they came to the floor, looking over the earth with keen green eyes. Her long ears perked as she listened around them.

"We are not alone," she said simply to her companions. She looked upward, touching her eyepatch and beginning to scan the area with slow, methodical movements. As she moved she made no sound, her toes touching the earth lightly before she stepped down with her whole foot, testing each place she stepped, masking the sound of her footfalls. "I cannot discern the total number of individuals, but they are a group - enough to speak to one another. Their tones of conversation do not make me think they mean ill, and I see no dark magics being cast."

Nakreyya's head stopped moving and she pointed toward the individuals she heard, "This way. They may be the people whom Grug saw in his vision."

Without waiting, Nakreyya slipped upward into the trees and began to move in the direction she had indicated.

@Silvan Haven @Hekazu @EchoesofOld @Mataus @Ciaran