Penny — Roleplayer Guild

Junebug grinned at Neil for a moment, relieved beyond words that he wanted to continue with her and the Highlander, though exactly what that meant for their relationship with their current employers was yet to be determined. Well, one thing at a time. Saxon took a step towards them and then hissed with displeasure. Sayeeda spat blood onto the grass and wiped at her split lip.

“What?” she asked, perplexed. Saxon glared at the body of the guard. Sayeeda followed his eyes to the device on the man’s wrist. Reaching down she found a switch on the wristband and flipped it off. The Hex took a step towards them, apparently untroubled.

“Some kind of sonic repellent,” Junebug speculated.  Hex could hear sounds at much higher frequencies than humans could, the bracelet must be transmitting some sort of signal, probably to repel the kind of animal that had just attacked her.

“I don’t know exactly what is going on here,” Junebug confessed. From the briefing she hadn’t gotten the impression that Pradec was involved in any kind of genetic engineering, but the creature that had attacked her wasn’t anything she had seen in the biota of this world.

“Well given your unprofessional gunfire, I suggest we strike while we still have some sort of element of surprise,” Saxon hissed with flat displeasure. Sayeeda didn’t bother to argue, just brushed her lip again and pulled her helmet visor down.

“Right, lets move.”
It took about another half hour to reach the coordinates the satellite surveillance had provided to enter the building. Rather than a doorway, all of which were guarded, they found themselves at a large grated vent that spewed hot exhaust into the tropical air. Several fungi of unhealthy hues hung from the slatted cover plates.   There were as yet no audible alarms.

“Alright,” Sayeeda said, unslinging her duffle bag.

“Lets get his over with.”

The presence of the water was a comfort at a level so basic it was difficult to put into words. In the back of her mind Emmaline had been fearing the long slow death of dehydration that their sudden and unexpected flight into the desert and the weight of that lifting away was a considerable relief.

Common sense dictated that travel be undertaken by night so after drinking their fill, they set to exploring the wadi. It quickly became apparent that at least part of the spring had once been given over to some sort of ritual bathing. The remains of ancient walls ran down into the oasis at regular angles before disappearing beneath the waters. The ruined structures contained little of interest, although Emmaline did find several more or less intact clay pots, each about the size of her clenched fist. Given the regular size of things, she imagined they had once been oil lamps, though any fluid had long since evaporated. She gathered the best of them up nonetheless, an alchemist's unthinking need for some kind of specimen jars more powerful than any conscious reasoning. 

Date palms fringed the oasis and Amal proved to be extremely adept at scampering up the trees to retrieve the ripe fruit. They laid in a considerable supply of them, wrapped in green fronds which Emmaline stripped and wove into simple packages that she strung together to make rudimentary packs. It was unlikely they would hold for longer than it took for the fronds to dry out and fall apart but that would likely be long enough. Although she had intended to make some study of the markings she had found in some of the ancient structures, by mid afternoon Emmaline was drowsy and ready for sleep, a condition only improved by the decision to drink the remainder of the wine and replace the fluid with fresh water.  Amal agreed to take the first watch and she gratefully drifted off to sleep using the rolled up carpet as an improvised pillow.

In its time the wadi had been a splendid place. Emmaline thought as she walked amongst the brightly decorated buildings. Tall pillars stood at regular intervals honoring strange gods that seemed part animal part human. Emmaline saw the familiar face of Asaph among the various idols, each lit by a bowl of flaming oil. Though empty now, the carefully tended baths allowed pilgrims to this place to bathe in the healing waters of the spring which gave the oasis its wealth.

A womans’ scream split the dreamscape and Emmaline spun towards the dunes to the south. Skeletal riders appeared on the crest, nothing more than sunbleached bones and tatters of ancient weapons and armor. Their skeletal steeds were bedecked with whisps of what must once have fine silk or cloth. The leader, distinguished by his vast size and the glowing witchlights in his eyes, raised a verdigris copper sickle and let out a souless bellow. Something clamped across Emmaline’s mouth and she awoke to find Amal’s hand across her lips.

“I dreamed of…”

“Not important,” the thief interjected, pointing to the dunes. Dark shapes were appearing against the night sky, silhouetted by the moonlight.The presence of the water was a comfort at a level so basic it was difficult to put into words. In the back of her mind Emmaline had been fearing the long slow death of dehydration that their sudden and unexpected flight into the desert and the weight of that lifting away was a considerable relief.

Common sense dictated that travel be undertaken by night so after drinking their fill, they set to exploring the wadi. It quickly became apparent that at least part of the spring had once been given over to some sort of ritual bathing. The remains of ancient walls ran down into the oasis at regular angles before disappearing beneath the waters. The ruined structures contained little of interest, although Emmaline did find several more or less intact clay pots, each about the size of her clenched fist. Given the regular size of things, she imagined they had once been oil lamps, though any fluid had long since evaporated. She gathered the best of them up nonetheless, an alchemist's unthinking need for some kind of specimen jars more powerful than any conscious reasoning. 

Date palms fringed the oasis and Amal proved to be extremely adept at scampering up the trees to retrieve the ripe fruit. They laid in a considerable supply of them, wrapped in green fronds which Emmaline stripped and wove into simple packages that she strung together to make rudimentary packs. It was unlikely they would hold for longer than it took for the fronds to dry out and fall apart but that would likely be long enough. Although she had intended to make some study of the markings she had found in some of the ancient structures, by mid afternoon Emmaline was drowsy and ready for sleep, a condition only improved by the decision to drink the remainder of the wine and replace the fluid with fresh water.  Amal agreed to take the first watch and she gratefully drifted off to sleep using the rolled up carpet as an improvised pillow.

In its time the wadi had been a splendid place. Emmaline thought as she walked amongst the brightly decorated buildings. Tall pillars stood at regular intervals honoring strange gods that seemed part animal part human. Emmaline saw the familiar face of Asaph among the various idols, each lit by a bowl of flaming oil. Though empty now, the carefully tended baths allowed pilgrims to this place to bathe in the healing waters of the spring which gave the oasis its wealth.

A womans’ scream split the dreamscape and Emmaline spun towards the dunes to the south. Skeletal riders appeared on the crest, nothing more than sunbleached bones and tatters of ancient weapons and armor. Their skeletal steeds were bedecked with whisps of what must once have fine silk or cloth. The leader, distinguished by his vast size and the glowing witchlights in his eyes, raised a verdigris copper sickle and let out a souless bellow. Something clamped across Emmaline’s mouth and she awoke to find Amal’s hand across her lips.

“I dreamed of…”

“Not important,” the thief interjected, pointing to the dunes. Dark shapes were appearing against the night sky, silhouetted by the moonlight.

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