Tyrael looked between the lizardman and the newcomer, someone who appeared to be a mutant sylve with water magic. From the way she spoke and acted towards the lizardman, they were both partnered together and weren't aiming to kill him. Otherwise she would've used that magic to end him, or ensure that the lizardman could finish Tyrael off in his weakened state. Telepathically he commanded Zastriel to keep an eye on them, but otherwise he put his weapons away on his belt. He focused mostly on the lizardman, trying to decipher what he had said. Best Tyrael could manage was that the creature was here "to help", but beyond that Tyrael had no idea what else he said. Apparently his name was Grossk, if what the sylve said is true.

Slowly but surely the blood in Tyrael's body calmed, and soon came the pain. His shoulder stung, and he felt that perhaps a few bones might've cracked when he fell down the crags. His arm was now dripping blood as well. He did his best to bandage his wounds meagerly, but he'll need a few minutes, ideally an hour, to rest his wounds before he tries to do much else. He regrets not studying any form of healing magics, but those were never easy to master to make them cost-effective. At least he can still loot these bodies. Tyrael took the swordsman's weapons and armor, which were relatively intact since Tyrael had focused on breaking their unarmored limbs over disarming or crushing their bodies. Tyrael could likely armor himself up in the Varuk armors, or if nothing else, sell them next time he's in town. There was also the matter of the skiff itself. Tyrael had no idea how to operate it, but it was hist best chance to get out of this wasteland alive.

And of course, there were the two newcomers. They seemed... Nice enough. They weren't trying to kill him at least. He's not entirely sure why they helped him so he doesn't trust them. But if they aren't here to kill him, he can cooperate with them. If nothing else it seems like the sylve is more concerned about the slaves, so she'll likely be easy to work with if Tyrael simply offers to try and use the skiff to return to whatever town they were stolen from. He vaguely overheard the sylve ask him and Grossk to dispose of the bodies. Tyrael figured he'd just loot their corpses and leave their bones to rot in the sun, but if it gets their cooperation, he'll comply. He looks over to Grossk with a nod. [color=00a651]"Strip the bodies of their arms and armor. Coin too. I can bury them myself."[/color] To show what he means, Tyrael waved his hand over the swordsman's corpse. While doing so, the sand underneath him shifted upwards, as if consuming the man, but caused the body to drop into the now empty pit where the sand was. Than Tyrael simply released his control over the sand and caused it to fill up the hole with the corpse hidden underneath. Now the only sign that there was ever a body there was a small mound of sand.

If there was no complications, the bodies collectively had various leather armors, three long axes, two scimitars, and five daggers. One of set of armor was useless however on account of the giant hole that had been ripped right through it, but everything else was salvageable. Tyrael was no tanner but he could likely rig the leather together into a form of gambison. While his stone skin is much more efficient for protecting his body, that spell only lasts for a short time and eats away at what little mana reserve he has to conjure his spells. So a bit of extra armor will help assist covering for his defects until he can gain a more solid grasp of his powers. Not to mention, it'll help protect his limbs the next time he has to take an axe to his arm. As for other supplies, the skiff was well stocked with clean water and dry rations. Most of it just cram bread and some sort of fruit chips. They tasted vaguely like grapes if Tyrael lets them sit in his mouth to reconstitute, but otherwise may as well be sweet crackers. And most importantly, a map.

Zastriel had looked it over a bit, but from the looks of it they are about a two-days journey from a nearby town called Kalla. It would seem like the Skiff was going to head to some unmarked location on the map, but based off a few papers Zastriel found, she suspects it's some sort of slaver camp. There were documents written in a strange sort of cant that Zastriel couldn't really understand, but gets the vague idea that they're instructions for how one conducts themselves in such a shady locale. Nothing that would really interest Tyrael personally, but maybe it'll be relevant one day. More importantly they'll need to get the skiff back onto the sands if they want to use it to go anywhere. And to that end, Tyrael would need the assistance of the newcomers.

[color=00a651]"I will speak simply: I need your assistance to take this skiff to the town of Kalla, so I can escape this cursed desert before disaster takes me. I have magics that will allow him,"[/color] Tyrael motions towards Grossk. [color=00a651]"To pull the skiff from the crag, and from there I can use more of my magic to repair some of the damage. Afterwards it should be in condition to takes us to a nearby down... Though I do not know how to operate such a thing."[/color] Tyrael was vaguely aware that he was being quite demanding, but he hopes that the two would understand his lack of formality considering recent circumstances (i.e. almost dying to bandits, thirst, and hunger) so that they can get a move on more quickly. He rubs his sore shoulder, which he had bandaged haphazardly. [color=00a651]"Forgive me if I seem demanding. I have no desire to have a formal conversation in our current conditions. I'm sure we can speak more kindly once we are safe and moving."[/color]