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[b]Long awaited collab from Chrononaut, FrozenEcstasy and I[/b] 

Ever since shaking hands with that dwarf, Jovalyn's life had been a series of piercing headaches and squawking noises. The dubious reality of the second part was still in question, as whatever distilling process Anghiem Royal went through to produce hallucinations such as making a dwarf seem mildly attractive was even at this moment pumping through her veins. 

Arnack leaned an arm against his pony for support his head pounding like he had been trampled by a horse. The Phoenix (which in his drunkeness he named Sir Birdsley the Third) squawked loudly yet again as it passed overhead. The trio and Arnack's pony had left the jungle behind a while ago and the grasslands of the Plains. He had no idea how they'd managed to get so far in such a short time, Sir Birdsley flapping back and forth leading the way. He was pretty sure Sam had danced all the way singing in an unknown language and he had vauge memories of singing along with his own dwarven songs. (Sometimes he'd even managed to sound good!) The rest of the time he shared jokes with Jovalyn, many about Sam's girly manner and grace. 

He looked down at the waterskin threaded through his belt loop they had filled with the last of the Anghiem Royal. There was a pitifully small amount left which he finished in one small gulp, at least for a dwarf. He hoped the others did not notice it. Maybe he'd have to get a couple more casks in the next town they passed (although it wouldn't compare to the Royal they had finished) neither of his new companions turned out to be lightweights, regretfully. "Hope we get to stop soon my legs ache!" he complained. "They aren't as long as yours!" he bellowed across the empty plains.

Sam seemed, for the most part, seemed entirely unaffected by the alcohol. In truth it was only because his self-control was like iron, it never wavered. He was actually pretty drunk, however, but you could tell by the way he swayed side to side in his footsteps that seemed to be perpetually rythmic despite walking drunk. His speech wasn't slurred in the slightest either, but his words were a lot less poetically Naeri in origin.

"Stop complaining, Bonnep." He hissed, doing something between a walk and a dance while a few steps in front of the other two, every now and then turning on the ball of his foot to do some random, drunken dance step. Sam's drunk dancing was slightly more impressive than his sobor dancing, Jovalyn and Arnack got to see it a few miles back when he got so happy from the spirit that he HAD to show them the Naeri way of having a drunken caravan. Except you really couldn't call this a caravan. More like two old frenemies and a random dwarf.

All of a sudden the headache inducing sound of an unecho being knocked around by unmountains in a perpetually flat plain rang painfully into the trio's eardrums. Jovalyn took a moment to process just how angry she should be about this, settling on less than amused, and directed herself in the general direction of the sound.

Arnack clutched his head as the painful noise hit him clutching his ears. Now he wished he'd saved the last of the ale. Slowly his aching head made sense of the noise and he knew it wasn't good news. "What in Neyav was that?" he swore. He drew up next to his pony and with all the grace he could summon scrabbled on to her back. "I'll meet you there!" he yelled back at the two as he urged his pony to a gallop kicking up dust and tufts of grass. He may have spent the night drinking with them but as yet they were far from friends. Besides whatever powerful creature was capable of such a call wasn't someone you kept waiting.