Kastilus: "Here we are gentlemen. That special feeling of mine prevailed, I simply knew we would locate the Ziggurat by dusk!" Excitably, the finely dressed archeologist in royal hues stepped just a arm's length too far our from the sparse forest clearing by which the company rest. Without a moments warning the nape of his collar his pulled taut and the spindly older man is nigh pulled to the ground; robbed of the majestic yet mysterious sight of the ancient structure, replaced instantly by the figure of a camel and its rider.

Ashür: "Do not make a move 'lest we say as such." So speaks the dour-eyed brigand amidst the band, releasing his grip upon their tag-along who gently scoffs in response, now wrapped tightly in a sellsword-blanket. "Be not hasty." He adds.

Kastilus: "And how could I ever?" Their current employer replies, dusting himself off and continuing just as effervescently, "This, dear friends, is a grand discovery! The lost Zagrosi Ziggurat's store untold riches deep within their vaults. Nay, not just so! The knowledge of golden ages long past as well. . ."

Ashür quiets the man down with a mere glare and insinuation toward the hilt of his blade. It has been three days and three nights trek through the rocky dunes of Zagros far to the south-east, near the Akkadian border. Now that the company happens upon this small scrub-land, they take full advantage of its bounty; beating the sand out of their boots and languring yet cautious beneath the shade of bao-bob trees.

Ruins dot the sun-baked grassland for miles, whether they be ancient towers of limestone or the long-rotted carcasses of vanished villages and huts. Beyond that a plateau of stone still standing tall beneath the rising peak with nary even the first signs of crumbling away to dust. Together these facts speak not only to the majesty of ages past, but to the mystique of these mountain foothills, for no man dwells there yet longer, it is no cradle of civilization, but it seems a graveyard. . .

Yet so, the marks of life are strong within this place. It is not long before the Hellions' succor 'neath the trees comes to an end, marked by a low croaking chant that builds and rises, carrying itself well across the foothills with a mighty echo. The roar and crackle of flame is set; the baseline to the chorus.

Ashür: "That awful sound; merchant, what do you see. . ?" His voice is that of a whisper now toward Zarif and Salador, and the company's movements still, unwilling to snap even a twig in the thicket.

Squat, gangrenous blue men draped in mops of seaweed-like hair and just as slick dance and sing a mournful song around the base a growing flame as the Sun begins to set. It is difficult to pick out beyond the slatted walls of pitched rock, but the stench filling the air for miles makes it clear. A mound of azure corpses of the little men, bled out and dismembered take well to the flame. Their oily bodies and filthy mops casting a smoke so foul as to choke the life out of a full grown man about the foothills.

Ashür: "Disgusting. This is no lost ruin. . ." The bandit's disdain grows clear as day, perhaps even the lightest hint of a popped vein makes itself known in his temple. "Yeeks." He says, naming the creatures beyond without even witnessing their warty blue skin. "You didn't mention there'd be beasts as these about. . ." Ashür adds with a foul taste upon his tongue.

Kastilus: "This is precisely what I hired you for. Think twice before you speak." He takes a bit of a whiff, that stench on the air. "I can tell they are immolating their dead, this is the perfect chance to finish them off and secure your pay."

Etor: "Easy Kastilus. Let us not get ahead of ourselves. We’ve all had a long trip. Spending some time talking about how to do things won’t kill us. In fact, it will have the opposite effect. These are Yeeks we are talking about." He says in a way that attempts to convey seriousness but also lets everyone know he has no clue what Yeeks are. Hoping he helped settle the building tension between the client and Ashur, Etor flashes a sharp tooth smile at them both.

As he begins pacing back and forth to think of an attack strategy, he is staggered by the horrendous smell coming from the ruins." Agh. Grossss. Lets just split up and make a three-pronged attacked?" Etor quickly remembers his age and position within the crew and quickly tightens up. Unless anyone else has better ideas of course!

Lyun: "..." Still as a statue, the bare chested man chooses silence. He can already picture his approach, steering clear of the bow just enough to then blitz it before it realizes, turtling in that corner and letting the creatures approach him, and their deaths, themselves.

While already several steps ahead in his mind, the man stands silently. He's come to terms with the company preferring a more methodical approach - even their worst plan would be better than a great but poorly coordinated one. And so he waits, eyes fixed on those blue skinned uglies.

Siris: "An attack from three different sides? Why not, that sounds like a fine idea Etor. Against creatures such as these though, I feel I alone am enough to count as a sufficient attack HAHAHAHAHA." almost laughing loud enough to be heard from the yeeks near the ruins.

"One group can attack from this position, another from the opposite side of our current position, and the last one somewhere in between those two positions. I feel that is more than good enough."

Ashür: Beams yet another one of his trademarked glares, this time Siris's way just beside him, "Seal your lips newblood. Your heedlessness is your undoing." Those sunken eyes of his meticulously wander away from the foolhardy warrior, across the clearing to the vibrantly haired youth.

"I am not opposed to the boy's idea." He states, "Still, best to be sure we remain in the Theurg's sight. Bled out by a gaggle of Yeeks is a tale your progeny will never be rid of. . ." Despite his words Ashür looks to the east, where hills form a natural valley leading up to the Ziggurat, tempting a path it may be.

Siris: "HAHAHA" Siris says while giving a friendly but slightly hard smack on Lyun's back
"Looks like only us two are capable of handling those monstrosities head-on, isn't that right my friend?"

Kastilus: "I abhor, no, detest acts of unheeded violence as these. . ." The sun-cracked archaeologist muses, somewhat contradictory to his earlier enthusiasm. "Still! Our work will be that of legends fine Hellions!" He then exclaims, though muted somewhat still by the dead look on Ashür's face. "Ahem. . . Good Theurg, I'll stay by your side for this sojourn."

Zarif: The foreigner squinted at the ruins, eyes fixed on the strange blue-men hobbling around the flames. He could hear the others talking among themselves, and only half listened, he and his mount inching around the trees, his hands wrapped tightly around his bow. Their manner of walking, the foul stench, the bodies, the fell creatures of this land were deeply unsettling to Zarif.

Back home, a wyvern may be fierce beast indeed, but a beast is all it was. These cursed things... Zarif shuttered, turning back to the others. Ashür and that mystic were talking, probably each trying to pretend to be in charge. Of course, it was quite obvious to Zarif that he himself was the one trusted by the captain to take charge, but with those men who stood so close to the ground... the merchant wouldn't hurt their fragile pride.

He nodded and gave them both a smile that implied hearing far more than he really had. "Salador and I will press onwards to those trees up ahead" He explained, pointing to the small wood not far from the one they were in now. "From there, I'll take out the archer, and circle back to you all." Zarif smiled, twirling his shortbow around as Salidor slowly trotted around the small group

Makeen: ‘Is this it?’ thought Makeen as the group approached the pile of ruins they were hired to explore. He was mid yawn while Ashur and their employer argued when the words “riches”, “vaults”, and “golden” washed away his boredom. Circling around the pack he scoped the scrubland ahead and stared at the wonderful pile of stones with renewed interest.

As the group discussed strategy, Makeen agreed with Iddin’s suggestions. “Sure, I’ll go with Etor and Ashur, but let me scope out the area ahead to see if I can find some hidden way to these promised riches.” Before Ashur could voice his concerns, Makeen responded, “Don’t worry. You know me, quiet and as fast as a desert mouse.”

Kastilus: The excitable researcher shifts just a tad bit, perhaps nervous or perhaps on the edge of anticipation. Regardless, he keeps himself adjacent to Iddin at all times.

Ashür: He merely nods by way of the young thief, Makeen's always proven reliable despite his age. "Right." The bandit hisses to the group, "It's drudgery time." With that he gestures toward the younger boys and makes the first movements.


"Forget not my words. Fall to a Yeek and consider yourself fallen to the gods. . ." The lanky man unsheathes his similarly lengthy curved blade from its sheath with a dull wooden rasp, creeping between the brush where the merchant readies himself and his mount to take off.

Etor was elated that the group liked his idea. However, the ragtag group has shown that they aren't well versed in collaborative encouragement. With that fact in mind, Etor nods to himself and makes his way towards the clearing.
Etor: "Great! Thank you Makeen. I'll move towards the end of the tree line and follow your lead."

Etor awkwardly shuffled past Lyun without saying a word. Lyun and Etor had a good relationship and he didn't want to ruin the bond they had with each other by speaking to him.
Making his way past Ashur he managed to give him a nod but not the direct eye contact that Ashur wanted. Ashur's eyes always give off the vibe that say "You think you're better than me?". Etor's base tongue couldn't accurately surmise Ashur's actual thoughts. He'd probably call him a witling or a malapert or something. Ashur is the only one who makes him feel like a teenager.
The short walk felt, which felt infinitely longer than perception should allow, ended with Salador. Etor attempted to put his hand on Salador, a goal he's had for the last 2 weeks, but the beast exhaled at the perfect moment to startle the young spearman. Awkwardness aside, Etor looks forward to the battle ahead and out at the structure ahead of him.
Etor:Cool...

Watching everyone getting ready to go on the offensive, Siris enthusiastically removes his sword from his scabbard and starts walking towards his enemies not bothering to hide his overconfidence.

One by one, the mercenaries began their way towards the crumbling ziggurat, and the foul blue creatures within. Zarif stood still for a moment, thinking of how he should approach. Ideally, he wanted to ride ahead of them all, take down the bow-wielding Yeek, and circle back to the group. Trying to take positions while under fire like that was sure to spell disaster, but these cursed men were surprisingly nimble. The merchant doubted he would be able to take it out in one pass.

A few of his allies walked around Zarif, surrounding him as they made their way forward. Below him, Salador snorted loudly, which snapped the Merchant back to attention. He glanced around, spying the boy to his right, who seemed to have almost jumped out of his skin at the sound.
Zarif: It is not you. My friend here just doesn't like getting boxed in is all

The older man smiled, patting the back of the animal. The boy, Etor, was a new recruit, and young besides. With the captain away, the quartermaster should probably do his best to make him feel more comfortable.
Zarif: He doesn't bite! Here, I'll show you!

In one swift motion, Zarif reaches down and grabbes Etor by the straps of his breastplate, swinging him down in front of Salador's hump, chuckling under his breath.
Zarif:See? There is nothing to worry about! Let us ride!

Lyun: "..." He listens to their planning and quietly ignores the kid's poor attempt at being friendly. Once they start moving he does so as well, hand axe at the ready.

Zarif and Etor dart off upon the majestic and powerful Salador as the rest of the party disperse from the clearing thicket, albeit with the lacking leadership of the loose-knit band. No honeyed words or best laid plans it seemed ever quite came to fruition for the Hellions as they were, lest, not without their commander. Regardless, the dust kicked up by the camel's hooves was more than enough to signal the mournful Yeeks, whose droning chants and cries slowly came to a silence.

Not long after a collective gibbering, a bark, a call, several oily feet smack against the packed dry soil, scrambling for a better position. The 'warriors' if you can call them so much as that dart from sand block staircase leading up to the great timeworn doors of the ziggurat proper, all to protect their shaman, their Ensi. A pair climb high upon their makeshift towers, hoping that their beady eyes could catch a glimpse of their foe. But little more than a fog of grit hands low in the air, and the cursed beasts see no more than Etor and Zarif riding their way. It matters not, any human is an enemy to the Yeeks. And much like nesting hornets, any enemy must be met with the full force of the tribe. The little blue gremlin upon the eastern tower blows a caribou bone horn with a high pitched squeal. . .

Gesties: "Damn! Damn . . ! Damn those little shits!!" A hunter garbed in shredded purples slams his cracked fists at the cell door from which he's entrapped, unable to make even the slightest headway. "Argh! Locked away with all this treasure, isn't that rich? _Hehehe."

Ashür: The bandit scoffs to himself, at the very first INTEGRAL moves, that damnable merchant dashes their strategy to the dust, snatching the boy up and riding ahead. Still, he can't possbibly deny the benefit of their smoke screen, nor their element of surprise. And with that, he dashes into the small treeline beyond a ruined cottage, aiming to dive right between the Yeek's crumbling walls. . .



"Let us cut off the head." He speaks aloud, "The rest are always sure to fall."