Ilruvae nodded, eying the bugs. They didn’t particularly seem very heavy, so it should be simple enough to... he encased as many of the small dragonflies he could in his magic, prioritizing those on Zay, himself, and anyone else he could see, and from there went just about wild, sending them careening in random directions, into each other, off into the air, into the Caravan, wherever, just causing as much general disorder as possible

Marilyn sighed. "Knowledge is a powerful tool, and I can assure you that books have no chance of harming you... I prefer hands on work myself, but a narrow mind can only get you so far." Marilyn reached into her pocket and scratched at her thigh through her pants inner lining.

Zay slowly pushed himself away from the railing and turned to Pyra, a little surprised at how rough he'd been with the poor little bugs. He looked across the roof at the spattered remains of the dragonflies, and then stared at the Eldi. The remaining Dragonflies did not seem too enthralled by the idea of being smashed to pieces, and quickly left the Caravan in droves. Even those indoors made a hasty retreat. Captain Copp nodded solemnly. "Well," He whispered, "I guess that's one way to do it."

Caravan Centaurus quickly closed the distance towards the large overhanging rock. Marilyn turned to Daelin as they approached, looking somewhat worried.

"Daelin, fetch the Captain, would you?" She asked, "I want to confirm what time we'll be stopping for the night. My eyes are starting to fail me."

Lyullia looked rather... shocked as Illuvae brutally killed several of the harmless dragonflies. She opens her mouth to react, but decides against it and simply shakes her head.

"I guess I'll go and take a rest then." She says, nodding to Zay as she climbed back down and headed towards her bunk, climbing in and going to sleep.

Za’Kul trained his visage along the path of the running woman who scorned Ju’Kul. Ever defensive, he had mind to rectify her sin then and there. Then again, even in Lok’Sha culture, unprovoked violence against women was frowned upon to a degree.

“Dumb,” was the sum of his opinion on the trespasser. Za’Kul continued to follow behind Ju’Kul with steady pace,

“Wor,” contempt flared with mention of the name, “what business with them? Thought we stop long time ago?” Za’Kul had no love for any of the High or Great tribes of Smor’Gen’Blok. The High Wor received the focus of his repulse because they were the ones who prevented the Low Kul from entering and exiting and buying and selling as was necessary for his people to advance in social strata.

Wor’Boa was among the most vicious and cunning chiefs there were, more than some of the chiefs of the Great tribes. Far as Za’Kul was concerned, the leaders of the Great tribes were so because of inheritance and because they were among the oldest tribes of Smor’Gen’Blok. They were still to be respected--nay, they had to be respected for their sheer number alone. With a single warcry, entire tribes could be erased from existence should the Great Warchiefs desire.

And so Za’Kul would feign respect best as he could. Less was Za’Kul’s forced reverence for the High chieftans, though they too were more accomplished--and much as it pained him to concede--better and more fit for their station than Za’Kul was at present. Perhaps today that would change, perhaps today he could show the Wor and the Low Kul that he was not just “ant”--that he belonged among the big boys.

Daelin complied with a nod and poked his head out of the hatch to the roof. "Hey Cap'n. Marilyn wants to know when to stop."

Marilyn looked over her shoulder and narrowed her eyes. Purple bug guts everywhere. No wonder those little creatures took their leave. Somebody had gone and murdered a great number of them. She hated seeing that. Not only did the creatures that threatened them have to meet an unfortunate end, but now these harmless bugs too? She looked forward, and then up at the giant rock that loomed overhead while taking her hand out of her pocket.

It was completely silent before it happened.

<sub>"Detonate the charge"

"But you're..."

"Listen to her, runt."</sub>



A thunderous crash bellowed across Baeshri pass with enough volume to rip through eardrums. The ground itself shook so violently that even nearby trees were not immune to the tremors. From beneath the giant stone spike, a yellow cascade of powder and mana erupted upwards, carrying with it chunks of Venbu Flesh and various metal scraps. The Caravan's main cart was tossed up violently, far past a 45 degree angle, to the point where the ground itself was at a sheer angle. Noru and Neale slipped from their bunks and were tossed from one side of the cabin to the other. The medic landed in the back room, where barrels and boxes were flung about, breaking their restraints and piling near the back of the storage room. Neale ended up smacked against one corner of the room, but not before smashing through Flin's bunk and cracking it in half. The others in the Cabin met a similar fate, ending up scattered across the room and likely strained with various serious injuries.

Daelin was flung straight up through the hatch lead to the top of the Caravan, right into the air. Zay held himself firmly on the railing, just barely able to keep himself from flying off the cart's edge, albeit at the cost of snapping several bones in his right wrist. His skin was enveloped in a silver coat, and he reached towards Daelin as quickly as possible, while desperately trying to keep his footing against the top of the cart. He felt his right foot twist and bend against the force of the explosion until it reached a point of injury. The pain of his sudden sprain almost sent him flying, but he just barely managed to keep from falling to the ground below.

The Venbu were tossed aside, and their reins were completely destroyed. One of the creatures toppled over and slid towards the edge of the path with nearly half of its body hanging over the trench below. The other lost a leg, and was launched skyward slightly, before hitting the ground was a blood curdling crunch. The pilot's seat was engulfed in the yellowish smoke immediately, but Marilyn's scream was loud enough to just barely seep through the explosive shock wave, even if only for a moment.

The cart traveled only a few yards forward after that, and then fell back down with a heavy thud. The steel wheels bent, but did not break, bringing the cart's forward momentum to a slow, sliding stop. The sound of warping metal creaked loudly, mixed with an earth drag as the tires dug into the path. By the time the cart had stopped moving, those responsible for its sabotage were already moving in to surround the yellow cloud of smoke that obscured all vision.

In one fell swoop, the impregnable fortress that deterred powerful beasts across Thoris was brought to a resounding halt.



"Never over with stupid Wor boys," Ju'Kul quipped through a quiet chuckle, "Always want more. Always threatening Low tribes. They have made very big demand last night while Kul's people sleep. We go to negotiate." Ju'Kul's usual demeanor vanished as he spoke. He was a shining example of what Ha'Kul looked for in a warrior, and a friend. With a smile that pushed away the darkness itself, a heart bigger than any Lok'Sha he'd ever met, and the stature of an ancient warrior, it was a wonder that he hadn't taken the role of chieftain long ago. Perhaps it was out of respect for Za'Kul's father? Or maybe it was cowardice? Whatever the reason, the big oaf was never too keen on discussing anything about himself... Unless he was bragging.

"Worse," Ja'Kul grunted, "Much worse this time. Not just supplies or work. Much worse for us." The two burly creatures made their way across the Low'Kul Cavern in no time at all, passing by Ha'Kul again in the process. Their Chieftain seemed lost in thought, too focused to wave or glance in his son's direction. Ja'Kul looked back at him briefly, and then spun his torso forward once again. They were approaching the maw of the path that lead out of the Deeper tunnels. A giant hole in the side of Kul's cavern, lined with jagged stalactites like it threatened to swallow them whole. It was guarded by a few men and women, donning red markings across their bodies.

It was normal for several Lok'Sha to sleep or stand guard right by the most dangerous tunnel entrances, close to the earth itself to feel for vibrations even as they slept. They were the recipients, or perhaps, the victims of a particular type of soul magic that enhanced the nervous system to unfathomable levels. Those who found themselves plagued with node sharpening have spoken of being able to feel the air itself. Changes in the atmosphere that ranged from vibration to breezes too gentle for the average Lok'Sha to notice played a part in giving them a nearly omnipotent aura. The trade off was rather brutal however.

Ja'Kul patted one of the men on the shoulder as the two passed by. The man winced in respond to Ja'Kul's touch. "Sorry bruddah," He whispered as they passed by.

Node sharpening amplified pain significantly.

Flin's eyes snapped open the moment the explosion went off, immediately realising something was wrong. But he was already flying in mid-air, launched right out of his bunk. Due to this, he was fortunate enough to avoid getting struck by Neale as his bunk shattered from his collision with it. If not, being struck by the heavily armoured man may have killed him. However, before he could even properly react, he slammed into the wall at the opposite side with his chest, cracking several of his ribs. His head also grazed the wall with a violent yank, causing his forehead to bleed.

Ilruvae's eyes widened at the boom, his instinct being to wrap an arm around the railing, and grab his own hand, wincing as the entire cart went to hell and back, ending up with a likely broken right arm, and more than a couple wrist bones broken. What was that scream..? Wasn't that the driver's voice? Not exactly his highest priority, as he realized that he had ended up over the Caravan's edge, dangling by his arm he had wrapped around, which he soon realized was both in an extreme amount of pain, and he couldn't likely drop down very easily, for risk of being caught by whatever attackers the Caravan was under assault by. He gritted his teeth, letting go with his good hand, aiming for the nearest vertical bar from there.

Damn that hurt. He barely gripped unto the bar, his head spinning, and ears ringing from the explosion. With a good deal of effort, he tried to lift himself up using a combination of his own strength and arcane magic, failing and almost losing his grip, certainly breaking a finger as he slammed back down into the Caravan.

“Worse? Can be no worse. What demand Wor make?” Za’Kul couldn’t imagine what else the High Wor required of his meager people. They had already ‘given’ the Wor everything. Many of the Kul worked for the Wor: mining, forging, picking. Could they be demanding all of the scraps of tunnel the Kul had to themselves? A sacrifice for a ritual? It made no sense.

“Nothing for Kul to give!” a growl muddled alongside a shout carried Za’Kul’s incensed declaration against the walls and through the maw of the cave he and Ju’Kul walked down. A horde of guards stood guarding its exit; two of which he knew: Da’Kul and Sa’do’Kul. One, Da’Kul was younger than his company--around Za’Kul’s age in fact. He was quiet for a Lok’Sha, and Za’Kul had only heard whispers of the node ritual he underwent, the sacrifice it required.

To feel pain for Lok’Sha was a given, but to desire to feel more than one already would during his potential century of existence was something Za’Kul could not fathom. More, he was not brave enough to do the same for himself--or so he thought.

Ja'Kul shook his head with a heavy grunt that rumbled across the cavern. "More," He muttered as they climbed higher into the tunnels. Ja'Kul hesitated between every word that followed, like something was lodged deep in his chest. "Wor had not been so dishonorable in the past. Never think they come to treat us as even less than ant." The Wor Tribe caverns were not too far ahead. Only a few seconds of walking up, and they could hear the commotion begin to echo down towards them. Sounds of trade, work, laughter, and battle. The Wor Tunnels spanned farther than Kul's could ever hope to, covering enough of the underground Deep Tunnels to rival some of the smaller nations above ground. But from where they would enter, the titanic Hearth stone that kept the Wor safe stood high, marking the central nexus of their cavern space. Before the two Lok'Sha reached it, Ju'Kul finally spoke clearly to Za'Kul.

"Slaves."

Za’Kul stopped in his tracks. Slaves! No, never. Before there was mistrust, seeded hatred. It was becoming anger; it burned in the depths of his stomach,

“Slaves? No! Cannot!” then he realized how close they were to the Wor holdings and his rage involuntarily died. It knew. He knew he couldn’t cause a scene; the fact the High Wor even considered negotiation was a miracle itself; it was unbecoming of him to ruin their lone chance at reasoning with them. He had to bite his tongue and bide his time.

All that pride he had would be swallowed; his father climbed the ranks of his pitiful tribe through cunning; Za’Kul would have to at least mimic some of that if he wanted to assure Ju’Kul and himself made it out alive. To do something stupid which got one’s tribes fellow killed was an offense punishable by death. He kept behind Ju’Kul so that the elder could handle much of the talking, he was in no mood or mind to do so himself.

He just hoped the Ju’Kul had some sort of plan.

Ju'Kul didn't have to bother telling him to calm down. Za'Kul already knew their predicament all too well. The cave was beginning to widen by now, splitting off into two tunnels that arced around a single ornate pillar that stood in the center. Even at the highest pinnacle of the Smor'Gen'Blok underground, it was rare to see pristine minerals like marble used in any fashion. But this pillar was crafted of just that, and lined with various gemstones that the Wor had pilfered from the Deepest Tunnels. A great deal of marbel had been smashed together with elemental magic into this several-yard wide monument to the previous elders of Wor'Boa's tribe. Faces were carved into its circumference from bottom to top, leaving only one third of its surface blank for future chieftains and persons of interest to find a spot one day.

"Calm," Ju'Kul grumbled to himself as they passed by the pillar of Marble. To the Wor tribe, it was a remarkable recollection of its past 6 chieftains over the last few centuries. But it served another purpose outside of that, and the Wor were not ignorant of it.

It was a threat to any and all who entered from the Deeper tunnels, that they were a gleaming obstacle to the grey-skins and dark-skins alike. They were not to be trifled with.

The mouth of the twin tunnels immediately opened into the same cavern. Its ceiling was at least four times higher than that of the meek Kul's Cavernous expanse, and its Hearthstone was like a Titanic's tooth, reaching almost to the smoothed roof that stood over 12 meters above them. The edges of the main cavern were lined with crudely crafted wooden walk-ways. Lok'Sha were rarely capable of making anything that wasn't made of rock or gemstone look pretty, but the mountain men were apt enough to craft sturdy wooden projects. Still, despite being able to support nearly 100 Lok'Sha of varying sizes at a time, they looked perfectly breakable without too much effort. These walkways lined the walls in two layers above the ground level. One lead to tunnels that climbed higher into Smor'Gen'Blok, all the way to the Outer Tribes and High Tunnels, while the center walk-path traversed throughout all of the Deep Tunnels, and the rest of the Wor Tribe caverns. Even the ground level was lined with tunnels, but most of them connected to other sections of the Deeper Tunnels, many of which even the Kul did not have direct access to through their network.

Ju'Kul and Za'Kul were met with glares as soon as they passed through the twin-mouthed exit from the Deeper Tunnels. Several guards approached them, some of which were marked with the tattoos that signified node sharpening, others who simply stood almost eye-to-eye with Ju'Kul. For the overgrown warrior, seeing other Lok'Sha close to his size was always a little strange. If they had not been so aggressive towards him and his tribe, Ju'Kul would have felt right at home around his similarly-sized companions.

"Business with Wor'Boa-"

"Business with Fist!" One of the larger guards roared, smashing Ju'Kul right across the jaw with a casual hook. The large man took a step back in recoil, but stepped forward to meet the guard eye to eye with only a trickle of blood escaping the corner of his mouth. He smiled and laughed it off, wiping his mouth clean. The guard smiled too and took a step back. "Always pleasure, Ki'Loa."

"Pleasure for you to stand here alive!" Ki'Loa hissed through his teeth, "Wor'Boa gone to see Warlord Lu'Li'Po. Gone for days. Not return for days still."

"We receive his message last night!" Ju'Kul insisted.

"Yes, truth. You see Hi'Wor, not Wor'Boa."

Ju'Kul cringed. Wor'Boa might have acted as a tyrant in his commanding of the Wor Tribe, but he would see reason and think with some manner of pity for the lower tribes. At some points, he even demonstrated acts of generosity, born from such pity. Perhaps they were with intent to change the Low tribes. An attempt to subdue and convert their principals, perhaps even absorb them entirely into his own Tribe. But they were not without merit. Many actions that Wor'Boa followed through had been to the great benefit of tribes like the Kul, even if such acts held brutal consequences elsewhere.

Wor'Boa's son on the other hand, was a merciless monster.

Hi’Wor. Great. Za’Kul had reservations about the meeting as a whole to begin with, and now he and Ju’Kul were forced to meet with War’Boa’s petulant son. A spoiled brat. An idiot, in Za’Kul’s firmest opinion. Hi’Wor likely thought the same of Za’Kul. The real difference between Za’Kul and Hi’Wor was Hi’Wor possessed every negative trait Za’Kul did and each was pushed to its worst extreme.

To say Hi’Wor was outright evil was unfair. He was a typical Lok’Sha without the necessary aegis to be chieftain apart from his father’s approval--which, in most tribes, all one needed was the backing of the chief--and all the penchant for precise violence necessary to make people fear you; but nothing to make them love you. Za’Kul didn’t bother speaking, though he was the chieftan’s son, he held no considerable stature among any of the men and women here.

All the same, he wasn’t sure how much of Hi’Wor’s smug he could take before he put hands on Hi’Wor. He would have to wait and see. If anything did happen--such as him losing his temper--he had come prepared, and filled with enough constrained rage to unleash on Wor’Boa’s idiot seed.

Ju'Kul rose his hand and waved the guards aside. They grit their teeth, but reluctantly stepped out of Kul's path and let the two men proceed further inward. A few Lok'Sha, familiar faces in the Deeper Tunnels, scurried past the two men and down into the tunnel that led back towards their home. Ju'Kul didn't notice them pass through the Kul Campsite earlier. Had they been outside the Deeper tunnels for some time? He shrugged it off as nothing as the two cradled supplies near their chest or under their arms, and proceeded past the Wor Tribe's guards. Ju'Kul Motioned to Za'Kul with his shoulder. 'Come'. They were officially knee-deep in the wretched atmosphere of the Wor Tribe.

The main cavern was similar to Kul's Hearth site. But rather than lining only the edges of the cavern, camps and forges were littered throughout the entire breadth of the cave. Ladders and stairwells led up towards the wooden paths, where despite the limited support, several more forges and campsites were dug into the walls. It was like the entire cavern was alive with sheer energy, a polar opposite to the dank and lifeless darkness of the Kul Tribe's residing. Even in the darkness of the underground, Wor had something that made their cavern feel as if it were lit by an undying flame.

"Keep weapons sheathed," Ju'Kul said softly, leaning towards Za'Kul as they made their way past a few merchant stalls, "You here to speak for your father, not fight for him. Hi'Wor will hope for conflict, this I will not doubt." They neared a tent that was larger than all the rest, with white wooden logs making up its supports and curling around each other near the top. "He will use big words and make big actions." Ju'Kul looked up at the wooden pathways above them as he spoke now. Several Lok'Sha were glaring down at the darker-skinned Low-born as if they were intruders. Among the crowds however, there were other dark-skins that looked at them with fear and sadness painted across their faces. The fact that the Wor Tribe allowed so many from the Deeper tunnels into their caverns was a curious site. Although still outnumbered by others, they stuck out like sore thumbs, granting them disgusted glares in the exact same fashion that befell Za'Kul and Ju'Kul. "Many here wish for conflict with the deeper Lok'Sha. They let us up not out of kindness. It is a trap."

Ju'Kul approached the tent's entrance and casually lifted the clothed veil, beckoning Za'Kul to enter first. Inside, Hi'Wor could be seen with his fists raised high. He was facing another Lok'Sha, one much bigger than he was, in unarmed combat with a few of his most trusted tribe-mates watching from the edges of his tent. A Circle in the dirt kept the two fighters contained, but rarely did Hi'Wor heed its limits.

"The Wor draw a circle with their words," Ju'Kul whispered. He nodded to Za'Kul solemnly, and gestured with a greater warning.

'Do not step in it'



Wor'Boa had made his way through the great Shaka Plateau after a few days of travel through the full scope of Smor'Gen'Blok's High and Higher Tunnels. The off-Color Lok'Sha put him on edge during his travels. Glares from the bright-skins pierced the chieftain's rock hard demeanor like spears. Wherever he walked, there was silence. But it wasn't because of his skin tone or his tribe.

It was because they knew who he was.

It was rare for even the high Tribes to step foot in the presence of greater Chieftains, let alone the holy Trident of Ruliman's highest peaks, the Lok'Tri'Sha'ra. But Wor'Boa had been here once before, to serve his previous Warlord and dear friend Koal'O. This had been long before the Wor tribe had grown to what it is now, defiled to no more than a rumor for those who did not witness his deeds first hand. Those who remembered his face, that wretched scar across his abdomen, his dreadful blood-stained hair, his orders as Koal'O's foremost general... They looked at him with nothing but contempt. They saw him as a threat to the current Warchief's ideology and the balance of Smor'Gen'Blok's new reign. A monstrous cretin. And why wouldn't they? If Koal'O had not been so dedicated to preserving Rajaka's blessings, Wor'Boa may have very well lead the berserker clan to its very extinction. Wor'Boa saw it differently though. In his mind, it was Koal'O's cowardice that prevented the Lok'Sha from exterminating the Paladin order once and for all.

Ever since the end of the last great war, the chieftain of the Wor Tribe had sworn to avenge not only the death of his friend, but the death of his ideology, the very ideology that made Lok'Sha who they were. But It had been over a century since the fall of Koal'O. War'Boa was nearing the end of his own life span quickly, despite already reaching a much higher age than most Lok'Sha in the entirety of Smor'Gen'Blok. He has failed to reach Lu'Li'Po or the great tribes time and time again after his deeds. But that's exactly why he stood here today. Wor'Boa had spent a century growing his army to an incomprehensible size among the high Tribes. Now, after three decades of trying to earn a meet with Lu'Li'Po, we was finally granted with the chance to see his new Warchief face to face.

After so many years of terrorizing the Lower Tunnels, word had finally reached Lu'Li'Po's ears. Word of a Tribe that had grown to number in the tens of thousands, large enough to oppress a fair potion of the Deeper Tunnels. The Wor'Boa were not the largest collection of Lok'Sha, but from what the Warchief could gather with her reliable aids that scurried through the tunnels, they were by far one of the most aggressive. Even the Great Shaka who show disagreement with their Warchief's new dogma, have reason to fear what Wor'Boa's people may bring to their people as a whole.

Wor'Boa was escorted into the Grand War Tent by several men. Lu'Li'Po's right hand commander, Mo'Rasha'Ka, was present inside of her tent when the Wor Chieftain arrived. Other figures of legend looked down on Wor'Boa as he arrived as well. The current head of the Berserker temple, Ovor'Pella. Head of intelligence, Yvo'O. Several Generals of the High Armies, including Jo'O, Mei'Shaka, and Nil'Noa'Ji. The tented off enclosure that he'd walked into was filled to the brim with Smor'Gen'Blok's most powerful monsters.

"I am to understand that you've been busy, Wor'Boa," Lu'Li'Po announced loudly, speaking with refinement that was even befitting of a human official.

"Wor have been very busy indeed, Warlord. Very busy," Wor'Boa grunted. Lu'Li'Po cringed at his archaic title. The two glared at each other with a rare intensity, the type that sparked between rivals who would seek out the title of Warlord. Wor'Boa finally broke the tension with a smile that crept out from behind his dangerously arrogant expression. Lu'Li'Po narrowed her eyes in response.

"I have several things that I wish to speak to you about."

"Overjoyed, I am," He chuckled, "I have waited a very long time to exchange words with you, after all."

Daelin only barely noticed Zay's outstretched hand as he careened up. He stretched his own out as he plummeted back down, nearly missing the aid before being caught just over the edge of the caravan. As Zay caught him in his momentum he swung down toward the caravan and plunked right into its side with his shoulder. With his wounded Captain's help he managed to secure a hold and clumsily climb his way back on top. His ears were ringing, he may have been in shock from the proximity of the explosion or mana burst or whatever the hell that was. "Thanks Cap'n". Daelin managed. He held his hands against his temples to try and fight off the headache before more realization hit him. "Marilyn!" He shouted. Daelin stumbled back toward the hatch and fell on his hands and knees. He sat there a hard moment, breathing steadily and trying to recover.

"Cap'n." He said. He made two loud coughs, waving the smoke in front of his face. "Marilyn was in the brunt of that explosion." He reported. He decided it would be safer to crouch and stayed with one knee on the ground. "Orders, Cap'n?" Daelin asked.

Lyullia had only barely managed to fall asleep when the explosion rocked the caravan. Though both the sound and the force of the blast were more than enough to wake her up, there was little she could do to prevent herself from being tossed from her bunk and across the caravan.

Nor was being awake going to do her much good in any attempts to avoid hitting anything. As she is thrown across the caravan by the explosion, she collides with something, and the impact knocks her out - likely causing other injuries in the process. As the caravan lands on the ground again, Lyullia hits the floor, breaking her leg in the process.

After helping Daelin back on board, Zay rushed over to where he saw Pyra get launched. With his hands he swept away smoke, thinning it quickly as he made his way to the Caravan's ledge. There he saw Pyra hanging, just barely. He reached down quickly and yanked the Eldi up with as much care as possible, until he was back on top of the cart. His hand felt cold, like metal, and smooth like glass.

Zay turned towards Daelin's voice, just barely able to make out was he was saying through a sharp ringing in his ears. Marilyn took that head-on? What did the mean about the Venbu? He could barely see more than a few yards in any direction. The smoke and the darkness combined was too much. "We need a head count, and we need light," Zay declared, "Get inside the cart and make sure everyone is ok. Noru is priority. If we lose him, our injuries might as well be a death sentence." He knelt by Pyra and looked him over. "Pyra. Can you walk?"

Outside of the powdery cloud, the Myti were on the move already. The two Myti in the trees aimed carefully into the smoke, judging where to aim carefully from the alien smells that hid within the explosive aftermath. One fired something into the powder a moment after Zay leaned down, a single iron-tipped arrow. The other held a different type of arrow carefully, waiting patiently in case his aid was needed. They weren't about to waste supplies where they weren't needed.

Zay lurched forwards only slightly as the arrow hit him, but the sound was not likened to that of tearing flesh. As it hit his bare upper body, it sounded like the arrow had ricocheted off of metal. Zay turned towards where he felt the arrow come from and raised a hand, firing a flurry of silver spikes in the direction of the archers. All of them failed to hit anything, succeeding only in impaling the trees where the two assassins once stood. They moved and began to take aim again.

<sub>"What did you hit?"

"I don't know, armor? I thought he was bare-chested!"</sub>

"Daelin, quick! Indoors! I'll be fine!" Zay shouted.

From the foot of the caravan, the two Myti that once hit in the trench climbed up and quickly positioned themselves outside of the pilot's seat. It seemed that Marilyn was missing, something that both of the cat-women noticed long before anyone else. Was she flung off of the cart in the explosion?

From above, Sasha looked down and waited patiently. Without the use of her Psy stone, she grabbed the shoulders of her two partners and spoke to them telepathically.

"Our archers have not made contact, wait 5 seconds and then drop." She let go of them and engaged her gauntlets, using them to climb along the underside of the giant rock like a spider, stopping just above the Caravan. The other two Myti approached the edge, and stood quietly for their chance to follow up.

Neale Geroldus was awake now, but had bruised his shoulder after his unfortunate collision. "What the hell is going on?" He wheezed, falling forward onto one knee. Despite his injuries from earlier, the Captain didn't sustain any significant injuries from his rude awakening. The Captain looked over to where Flin had landed in front of him, and moved towards the man while keeping low. Then he noticed Lyullia on the other side of the small table, completely unconscious. "No..." He gasped, "No, this is just like before! Boy, boy!" Neale took hold of Flin's arm and tried to shake him, "Are you conscious?"

Daelin complied, dropping down into the hatch and scanning the room for everyone. With Pyra and Zay on top, everyone was accounted for except Marilyn. He went toward the pilot area. It was a mangled wreck. The reins were destroyed, a venbu was missing and the remaining one had been violently gored by the explosion. Unless Lyullia had some crazy magnetic skills they were stuck with this fight. Daelin kept low as he explored part of the pilot area and briefly peeking just outside the cockpit for Marilyn, wary of exposing himself to any archers.

Flin's entire vision was a blur after colliding with the wall, but his mind slowly got used to what'd just happened as he began to see clearly again. He wheezed as if he had some trouble breathing, but was still able to recompose himself as Neale shook his arm. He looked up at him and smirked slightly, using his other arm to clean off the blood on his forehead. Fortunately, his head injury wasn't too deep. His chest area on the other hand, was a different story. It hurt like hell. "This ain't enough...to put me down..." He muttered to him, standing up slowly. He noted Daelin's appearance as he entered the caravan, and nodded at him. "K...keep an eye at the front, Daelin. I'm going to find Noru." He stated.

He overlooked the room that he was within briefly, to reassure himself Noru wasn't there. He kept himself low as he moved into the storage area to find the medic, to the area where he'd most likely be at. He scanned that room as well, to see if he would be able to see anything that would give away Noru's position. He began to move aside any supplies that may have covered up the medic's body. "Noru, are you conscious?" He said, hoping for a quick response to confirm that he was actually still alive, and to pinpoint the man's location faster as well. The room was quite a mess now, after all.

Ju’Kul imparted his wisdom; Za’Kul held to it through gritted teeth. Youth imparted passion; passion, war; war, disgrace. He could not let his family name fall any lower than it was after his father had worked a century and more to drag it from dust. In tune and a step behind Ju’Kul he waded, his mind clouded with all the things he could do to that imp Hi’Wor. To hear him scream, to hear his father weep. After all, it was Wor’Boa who put the Lok’Sha in their state of meander and isolation in the first place.

Through the tent’s veil the two entered. Hi’Wor was in the midst of some contest of strength; the challenger looked to be on the wrong end of the test. Lok’Sha who seemed larger than Ja’Kul and Za’Kul combined stood around and on guard. Some eyes fell upon the duo, both of whom sat quiet while the match progressed. The bout was not what caught Za’Kul’s attention, it was the other dark skins.

He could only wonder what type of humiliation these dark skinned Lok’Sha went through. Even though Za’Kul and his tribe were dark skins, they were subject nigh-exclusively to the deepest tunnels and so the ridicule they faced was minimal, near metaphorical. It was when on these occasions he was reminded of the prejudice against his ilk. It was here the disdain for darskins and Lowborns was put before his eyes and made palpable. Among those fearful eyes, Za’Kul saw opportunity. Hope. Revolution. . . Later.

These Wor darkskins would have to suffer their humiliation in quiet for a time longer. For now, he had business to handle.

”Speak for your father, not fight for him.”

Right. Ju’Kul was always right.