07-23-2017, 10:05 PM
The pair of covered wagons trundled out of Carrefore at dawn. The Sage was intrigued by the design, a strange energy bound the second cart to the first in the manner of a rope, but the first wagon itself drove without beast to carry it. A strange mechanical device instead turned the wheels, operated by a massive wheel that the large man, whom the Sage had learned responded to Odem, operated with a pair of rotating pedals.
Eckward sat at the front of the makeshift caravan with Odem, leaving the Sage with the strange pink-haired sprite who he was becoming increasingly wary of. She claimed her name was viper, as blatant an alias as one could ask for. She sat next to him polishing a boot. Clearly not intended for use in this verse… the only place he could think would degrade footwear faster than these sands would have to be the Pale Moors.
“Why are you here?” he asked suddenly. There was no point to beating around the bush he supposed. The small one gave him an infuriatingly self-satisfied grin as she responded.
“You think Karl Jak keeps us around all year?” The Sage considered, realizing he had never thought about it, “Syntech is seasonal work at best, pal. Not even that. It pays well, especially if you can get in a good word with some of the sponsors for employment afterwards.” She tossed the boot into the wagon and stretched, before leaning back against the back of the seat, with her hands behind her head.
“Obviously I wasn’t able to do that this year. So here I am.” She shrugged and closed her eyes, probably planning to go to sleep. Or at least pretending to so the Sage would stop asking questions.
It was a perfectly reasonable explanation for her being here. And the Sage found it frustratingly suspicious because of that. The gnomeling seemed entirely too nonchalant about the fact that they had met twice in such a short amount of time. The Omniverse did not play in coincidences. Either Omni himself had decided to meddle, or the pink-haired migrant was working for someone.
Not for the first time, the Sage’s thoughts turned to Diablo. He believed Tearen’s story, that the lord of demons was not trapped in the underverse, as they had all believed. Instead he seemed to be using the place as a sort of defensive position. He controlled the exits of the world and so little was truly known about the place, or to what extent Diablo’s power had grown there. The Tearen had certainly gained in power from his time in the place, and the only other documented prime had been secreted away by the empire shortly after her return. By all accounts she had not fared well, but the speed with which she was back in the armed forces implied a similar strength. If simply the time it took to get out of the underverse created such powerful primes, what was happening to the ones who decided to stay?
The Sage sat in thought as the morning sun drifted lazily towards noon, but he did not feel like he was getting anywhere. There were too many variables. No way of knowing what his next move should be with the information he had. He rubbed his temples in frustration, glaring up at the blazing fire in the sky. It beat down with an intensity which the Sage had not experienced during his time in the Deep. Thankful for the muted clothing the Sage turned to Eckward’s ledgers. If thought would not quite his mind, then work would have to suffice.
Thankfully, Omni had allowed that the words in the ledger were more intelligible than the one’s the hooded being spoke. The Sage spent the next few hours parsing the merchant’s strange manners of noting his business. The Pink-haired gnomeling woke up during his work, and moved to the back of the wagon. The Sage had decided not to further question her, instead acting as though his curiosity had been sated. It would be better to look the fool and watch in secret than to blatantly challenge every action she took based on a hunch. However sure he was that she was not who she claimed to be.
They ended up setting camp in along the sheltered side of a cliff. The Sage had seen barely any sign of life during the entire day’s trek, and he was still debating whether the shriveled thorn bushes he had seen even counted as alive anymore. Now however the retreat of the great burning circle, and the arrival of the moon, had brought renewed variance to the otherwise stagnant landscape. The Sage idly watched a large beetle, nearly the size of his hand, as it wandered about the edge of the campsite, pursing whatever instincts it possessed. In the distance, a coyote howled, an answering trio sounded shortly thereafter. They weren’t far away.
The four travelers were sitting around a fire. Eckward had allotted some space for firewood, as it would help to ward off any beasts that came looking for a meal. It also clearly marked their location for banditry, but the road between Carrefore and the Town With No Name, was well charted enough that a bandit wouldn’t need to seek out the caravan. They could sit back, knowing the route would lead the target straight to them. His companions seemed unconcerned about the coyotes, although Viper was supposedly on guard first, she was sitting at the fire with the rest of them. Eckward was muttering to himself while fiddling with a stringed instrument the Sage was unfamiliar with. Odem watched the fire with a rapt expression, blinking only infrequently, face set but eyes glittering.
The Sage eventually put away his work on the ledgers. They were one third of the way through their journey, and he doubted he would have trouble finishing the work before their arrival. Eckward was clearly a shrewd businessman, and for the most part, the ledgers were already in order. The occasional entry was in another hand, which the Sage suspected was Odem’s from its thickness, but the thing was simple enough to decode after he had figured out the method. Eckward’s records seemed less concerned with the money involved with his transactions, and more with the status of the goods being traded. He recorded conditions of the goods, the time it took using various routes, many things the Sage was not accustomed to seeing on a merchant’s ledger. Thankfully the thing was able to do math well enough, or the job might have been far more difficult.
The Sage pulled himself inside of his bedroll, at least the hard packed sand had some small give to it. He drifted off to sleep, more at ease here in the wilderness than he had been for some time.
He was awoken roughly by a slap across the face from a child-sized hand. The Sage struggled up into a sitting position, it wasn’t his turn at watch already was it? Viper grabbed and shook him once or twice.
“Yo! Get up old man! We’ve got to MOVE!” she barked with an urgency that broke through the Sage’s sleep-induced haze.
“bandits?” he asked, focusing enough to get his feet under him.
“Worse.” She said, pointing towards a large dark shape in the distance. It was following their trail with a drifting steady pace, a dark blur in the midnight lighting.
“Tusken Raiders.”
Eckward sat at the front of the makeshift caravan with Odem, leaving the Sage with the strange pink-haired sprite who he was becoming increasingly wary of. She claimed her name was viper, as blatant an alias as one could ask for. She sat next to him polishing a boot. Clearly not intended for use in this verse… the only place he could think would degrade footwear faster than these sands would have to be the Pale Moors.
“Why are you here?” he asked suddenly. There was no point to beating around the bush he supposed. The small one gave him an infuriatingly self-satisfied grin as she responded.
“You think Karl Jak keeps us around all year?” The Sage considered, realizing he had never thought about it, “Syntech is seasonal work at best, pal. Not even that. It pays well, especially if you can get in a good word with some of the sponsors for employment afterwards.” She tossed the boot into the wagon and stretched, before leaning back against the back of the seat, with her hands behind her head.
“Obviously I wasn’t able to do that this year. So here I am.” She shrugged and closed her eyes, probably planning to go to sleep. Or at least pretending to so the Sage would stop asking questions.
It was a perfectly reasonable explanation for her being here. And the Sage found it frustratingly suspicious because of that. The gnomeling seemed entirely too nonchalant about the fact that they had met twice in such a short amount of time. The Omniverse did not play in coincidences. Either Omni himself had decided to meddle, or the pink-haired migrant was working for someone.
Not for the first time, the Sage’s thoughts turned to Diablo. He believed Tearen’s story, that the lord of demons was not trapped in the underverse, as they had all believed. Instead he seemed to be using the place as a sort of defensive position. He controlled the exits of the world and so little was truly known about the place, or to what extent Diablo’s power had grown there. The Tearen had certainly gained in power from his time in the place, and the only other documented prime had been secreted away by the empire shortly after her return. By all accounts she had not fared well, but the speed with which she was back in the armed forces implied a similar strength. If simply the time it took to get out of the underverse created such powerful primes, what was happening to the ones who decided to stay?
The Sage sat in thought as the morning sun drifted lazily towards noon, but he did not feel like he was getting anywhere. There were too many variables. No way of knowing what his next move should be with the information he had. He rubbed his temples in frustration, glaring up at the blazing fire in the sky. It beat down with an intensity which the Sage had not experienced during his time in the Deep. Thankful for the muted clothing the Sage turned to Eckward’s ledgers. If thought would not quite his mind, then work would have to suffice.
Thankfully, Omni had allowed that the words in the ledger were more intelligible than the one’s the hooded being spoke. The Sage spent the next few hours parsing the merchant’s strange manners of noting his business. The Pink-haired gnomeling woke up during his work, and moved to the back of the wagon. The Sage had decided not to further question her, instead acting as though his curiosity had been sated. It would be better to look the fool and watch in secret than to blatantly challenge every action she took based on a hunch. However sure he was that she was not who she claimed to be.
They ended up setting camp in along the sheltered side of a cliff. The Sage had seen barely any sign of life during the entire day’s trek, and he was still debating whether the shriveled thorn bushes he had seen even counted as alive anymore. Now however the retreat of the great burning circle, and the arrival of the moon, had brought renewed variance to the otherwise stagnant landscape. The Sage idly watched a large beetle, nearly the size of his hand, as it wandered about the edge of the campsite, pursing whatever instincts it possessed. In the distance, a coyote howled, an answering trio sounded shortly thereafter. They weren’t far away.
The four travelers were sitting around a fire. Eckward had allotted some space for firewood, as it would help to ward off any beasts that came looking for a meal. It also clearly marked their location for banditry, but the road between Carrefore and the Town With No Name, was well charted enough that a bandit wouldn’t need to seek out the caravan. They could sit back, knowing the route would lead the target straight to them. His companions seemed unconcerned about the coyotes, although Viper was supposedly on guard first, she was sitting at the fire with the rest of them. Eckward was muttering to himself while fiddling with a stringed instrument the Sage was unfamiliar with. Odem watched the fire with a rapt expression, blinking only infrequently, face set but eyes glittering.
The Sage eventually put away his work on the ledgers. They were one third of the way through their journey, and he doubted he would have trouble finishing the work before their arrival. Eckward was clearly a shrewd businessman, and for the most part, the ledgers were already in order. The occasional entry was in another hand, which the Sage suspected was Odem’s from its thickness, but the thing was simple enough to decode after he had figured out the method. Eckward’s records seemed less concerned with the money involved with his transactions, and more with the status of the goods being traded. He recorded conditions of the goods, the time it took using various routes, many things the Sage was not accustomed to seeing on a merchant’s ledger. Thankfully the thing was able to do math well enough, or the job might have been far more difficult.
The Sage pulled himself inside of his bedroll, at least the hard packed sand had some small give to it. He drifted off to sleep, more at ease here in the wilderness than he had been for some time.
He was awoken roughly by a slap across the face from a child-sized hand. The Sage struggled up into a sitting position, it wasn’t his turn at watch already was it? Viper grabbed and shook him once or twice.
“Yo! Get up old man! We’ve got to MOVE!” she barked with an urgency that broke through the Sage’s sleep-induced haze.
“bandits?” he asked, focusing enough to get his feet under him.
“Worse.” She said, pointing towards a large dark shape in the distance. It was following their trail with a drifting steady pace, a dark blur in the midnight lighting.
“Tusken Raiders.”
If history is to become legend, it first must be recorded.