The Wrong Place at the Wrong Time

[Lantor]

They had been traveling for over two months now into the lands of Fallien. The entire journey amounting to almost a six-month campaign. On there way to the fabled capital Irrakam. The sun was radiating down to the mortals below this day, and especially on the poor northerner Lantor. Who felt as if he had walked in to the abyssal plane itself. A waterfall of sweat pouring from his rough sun burnt hide. Barely able to keep one foot in front of the other, as the caravan trudged along a path that seemed to continue on for eternity. Why had he decided to go along on this foolish errand with these hadjis. He thought to himself as he pulled his bearskin canteen to his lips. Drinking the very last few drops within the precious container. Sure it had been an uneventful trip, no bandits, no monsters, not even your occasional passing traveler. Which to Lantor seemed a tad bit odd, since this road was supposedly on one of the major highways for the caravans.

The desert merchants with the caravan corps had also noticed the lack of traffic from the other direction. Wondering what could have possibly happened within their beloved home. It was incredibly unusual and they had made sure Ra'sha the coordinator of this expedition was well prepared for something quite horrible.
Ra'sha herself had a sixth sense about such things. Feeling that something quite horrible was happening in Irrakam, and figured it had something to do with there honourable Jya. Yet they continued on the pathway towards the great capital hoping that it was something of a minor disturbance. They would be within sight of the glorious city within the next few days.

These days were slow for Lantor who just wanted to get to his destination and get his bloody gold. He had not had a good drink during his entire journey with these "people" since every time he sat down at the local tavern. They would come nag him about some problem with a wheel, or a horse, or some other such nonsense. He felt more like a handy man that an actual bodyguard. He wondered if they would ever reach this place. If it would even be there when they came to its location. Or it the recent lack of traffic would show, that it no longer existed. Many such thoughts entered his mind as her contuined next to a rather smelly camel. His eyes staring directly into the dusty road.

His ears perking hearing a call in that "language" they used all the time. Lantor lifted his head from the dirt path, his eyes squinting in the late afternoon sun. The girl Ra'sha ran over to a scout that she had disbatched earlier to survey they scene in front of them. They two seemed to be arguing about something. As if Ra'sha did not believe what the scout had to say. A deep look of fear in the young fallien's eyes as the caravan stopped in a small ravine about three miles from Irrakam.
Ra'sha jumped onto one of the caravan's raising her hands into the air. Speaking loudly, her words seeming to shake with each sentence. Nothing that Lantor could even understand, as he looked around at the fearful faces of all the guard and merchants. Obviously something was really wrong, but Lantor had not idea what it was. When Ra'sha was finished with her speech many of the fallien men stood in silence, as if frozen by utter shock. Some of them mumbling in some prayer to whatever gods they worshipped. Finally Ra'sha looked over a the Northerner and walked in his direction.

The salvarian just stared at her as he slim figure walked towards him. His usual sly smirk gone from the weary travel they had just endured. She stopped about three paces from him, staring at him in a concerned fashion. Her looking straight into his, trying to find the words to tell him the awful news. Many of the falliens now in a sort of panic, pulling out armour and weapons from the back caravans and handing them out to the unarmed merchants. Lantor slapping his head against his own palm. Already knowing the situation that was waiting ahead of them.

"So I am guessing from all this commotion that are destination is under siege?" he said rather bluntly, wiping the sweat from his forehead. Ra'sha looked to the ground and then back at him. Still not believing the situation herself.

"Well, we still have time to get into the city before the majority of there forces surround the entrance. From what my scout told me, strange tribal men are skirmishing right at the gate. At least two platoons worth of men, numbering around a hundred or so." She paused for a moment looking up at him, she had little confidence in the man's intellect but his battle prowess of an entirely different issue.
"Listen, the caravan needs a chance to get to those gates. They are closed at the moment, and we need to get in there. Its time that you earned the money that I am paying you." She began saying forcefully as she stared into his forest green eyes. "I will give you sixty of my guard to divert the men at the gate. Causing a distraction for us to get these carts moving. Hopefully the city guard will notice us and open the gates. "

Lantor just looked at her with a sour expression as he took this all into account. Then he shook his head and a sly grin came on his face. "Fine lass, I got ye...we can't stay out here...those flying beasties will surely see us by the time the majority of there force gets here. I just better get a bloody bonus for this, yer going te owe me beg lassy." Lantor shook his head walking over to one of the horses merchants were ridding. Every horse available was mounted with one of the caravan guard. Leaving the camels to pull the carts and buggies.

"I wish you luck barbarian! You shall certainly need it!!" Ra'sha said to him as she turned away to organize what was left of the guard and her caravan. Lantor looked at the fallien men who surrounded him. With a smirk on his face, he thought to himself how in the name of the gods would he pull this off. He could not even speak there tongue let alone command them. Hey, at least he was finally stretching his legs. Kicking his horse he rode toward Irrakam, his little company following right behind him.

[Lantor]

A cloud of dust covered the small band of sixty-one men as they rode at full throttle toward the gates of Irrakam. Closing in on the skimishers that threw spears and fired arrows into the cracks of the seemingly impenetrable walls of fortress city. The Irrakam guard not returning much fire, leaving them to waste there taunts and ammo. Having little fear of the small warband before them. Preparing there forces within for the complete military force. These cultist skirmishers had little to no armour. Wearing crimson cloaks and turbans, there faces covered leaving only the eyes exposed. Each man carried with them a series of throwing javelins, a wooden tower sheild, and a slim scimitar at there side. The javelins the propelled at the guard as best they could, rarely if ever getting the simple throwing spears half way there. Yelling wildly in protest of the Jya, among other such things.
Lantor and his small calvary outfit coming swiftly up to there rear flank. The skirmishers still paying little attention to what was behide them. Assuming that only allies would come from behide. Only fifty yards to go, one of the desert cultist turned to see the small calvary force. Screaming to his companions of the danger, the men slow to turn. Not seeing the horsemen till the group was right on top of them. Each of them trying to bring there tower sheilds and spears around to ward of the attack, but it was too late.

Lantor pulled his broad sword from his back, swinging the blade around 360 degrees in his right hand. Gripping on to it tightly as the first impact came, strucking his blade downward at one of the cultist to his right. The desert soldier too shocked to react, had his head split almost entirely in half. Streams of blood spilling onto Lantor's stead and his face. The instant gone as quickly as it had come as the calvary contuined on toward the gate. Stopping right infront of it to turn, and face there enemy. The small calvary band only lost a single man in the effort, and had devistated the skirmishers. Out of the hundred that had once been harrasing the gate only sixty-two of them still stood strong. The rest laying on the sandy terrian. Eitheir badly wounded or dead as all life in the wasteland of the desert. The numbers now far more even, the calvary prepared for another strike. This time the skirmishers placed there tower sheild infront of them, holding some line of discpline as they pulled there slender scimitars out. Preparing themselves for another run.

Lantor's smile grew as he pointed his blade toward the standing men. Behide the cultist the carvan was already starting to race toward bridge which connected the isle city of Irrakam to the main land. Lantor kicked his horse and contuined to race forward, the caravan guard right behide him. Swiftly running into the front line of the shields, his horse rising up on its hind legs kicking at the tower of wood. Lantor's sword striking down at the men with great feriocity. His increadible strength cutting one of the shields completely in half. Bringing his arm backward to thrust into the body of the crimson figure who stared at the northerner in fear. It seemed with each swing of his blade it seemed a cultist fell to the blood stained ground. The untrainted force of misfits, had little chance agianst the well armed and exprienced guard. The morale of the cultists' was quickly breaking as many of them began to run in various direction in anyway they could escape from the onslaught that had befallen them.

By this time Ra'sha had lead the trading company into the city. The Irrakam guard odviously recongnizing the great use a caravan of supplies would be to them. Opening the city gates in order to rush the carts and camels in as quickly as possible. The battle looming only a few yards away kept the small enemy force occupied completely. Allowing the time needed to get all the carts in safely, with the iron gates still open for the soldiers behide them.

Finally the entire force broke from the line running as fast as they could. Some of the fallien horsemen wanted to finish them, but Lantor knew better of it. The small band had no horses and carried no provisions. He knew a larger camp must be somewhere near by and was not about to be lead into a slaughter himself. Pulling the guard toward the city, explaning with a serious of sign language and the few words he spoke in the language. The now small company of fourty horsemen rode into the city. The massive Iron gates quickly shuting behide them with a large clang.

[Lantor]

Within the seemingly impentreable walls of the city of Irrakam there was nothing but utter chaos. Hundreds of men, women, and children ran about The Merchant's Walkway with whatever they could carry. Half of them looking for any sort of shelter other than there unstable homes. Most of these people peasents and merchants. The merchants of the quarter desperately trying to pack their goods away and hide. Desperately fighting off the lotters who tried to take whatever they could from the market. As one of the lotters ran away from a screaming merchant. Lantor stuck his foot out from his horse, the thief's head running right into it. Knocking him flat onto his back, pulling a dagger from his back he attacked the salvarian on the horse. Lantor just kicked him in the face, knocking him unconcisous to the ground. So this is the great nation of Fallien, worshippers of the sun he thought to himself. Looks to be nothing more than alot of thieves and cut throats. Yet he knew deeper within the city was the more "pleasent" residence, but this would be the first place to go if the gate fell.

Ra'sha had her own scimitar pulled, swinging it wildly in the air to keep lotters away from the caravans. She was on top of the center cart, while commanding the guard to create a line around the supplies. The riots where incrediable and Lantor could not believe that all these citizens where wasting there time stealing than helping. Where was the bulk of the city guard he thought. Only a few seemed to be standing at the gate. No wonder those skirmishers attacked unchallenged. Lantor pulled his horse over to Ra'sha as she stood on top of the cart. Looking up at her with a sly smile as if trying to tell her he told her so. Ra'sha just gave him a disgusted look as she began speaking common to the barbarian.

"Listen, we need to get this place orginzed otherwise we will lose our own goods." she said we great concern, looking at all the chaos. "I believe most of the guard is probably near the large force of who ever this is attacking Irrakam."

Lantor nodded listening to her, surveying the situation a little more. He had no idea how to control this mob, he had 110 men under his command but this was out of control. He grabbed the pretty fallien woman from the cart by her waist and sat her behide him. Her expression that of utter shock.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING BARBARIAN!!" she screamed as he sat her own his horse.
He just smirked at and began formulating a plan in his mind.

"Listen Ra'sha, we need to orginze a defense for this place otherwise this area is done. I need ye to translate my orders to the people here. I don't know there tongue and I am sure northern common is not that common down here. If ye get me drift." He yelled trying to get her to understand over all the other commotion.

"Tell this bloke!" he said pointing at one of the guard on horse. "To gather the city guard in this district here." He pointed to where they stood. "We have to muster whatever man power we can. Especially to give time to get these civilians deeper into the city." with that last comment a fireball of sorts crashed right in front of Lantor's horse. The brown steed becoming rather excitied kicking its front legs in the air. Almost knocking them both off, but Lantor was quick to calm the excited animal. Harpies where begging to bombard the inner city. Almost unchalleged with the exception of a few city guardsman firiing arrows into the air.

Lantor screamed at Ra'sha to tell them, and she translated to the caravan guard what to do. He nodded in understanding and rode off toward the gate. The harpies were coming in fast shadows in the sky as they began to drop buring balls onto the city.

"Ra'sha we need to get the supplies off these carts and underground somewhere. The food and weapons will become crucial, and they are sitting targets in the middle of the street." Right as another of the balls fell onto a cart, exploding it into a flaming inferno. Ra'sha quickly translated the orders and the men began to work. Most of the lotters having run for there lives when the bombardment began. Leaving the problem something of the past, the merchants to just leaving there goods in the streets.

Lantor jumped off his horse pulling supplies off the carts and into a building where a supposed cellar was. A place that one of the guardsmen knew about. They raced agianst time to get what they could to safety. A true siege had began and they had only moments to save what they could for the possible months of confinement to this place.

[Atzar]

Bunnying of Rylius and Khungar have received prior approval.

Earlier that day…

“I need your assistance,” Galla said gravely.

Atzar, Khungar and Rylius stood in the elder’s study, in front of his desk. It was a fairly simple room, with the contents that one might expect in a mage’s study: a few racks of staffs and wands, a table cluttered with potions and herbs, and a great many shelves full of books and scrolls. There were no windows in the room, and the dim, soft light came from the numerous candles that Galla had lit at various places. Atzar liked Galla’s house.

The elder went on. “I was contacted by a friend in Fallien this morning. The Jya – the queen of Fallien – is in danger. My friend asked if I could send a few people over to help them out. This is precisely the reason why you two stand before me right now.”

Atzar was dumbstruck. Galla wanted him to go save a queen? A queen? “Why me?” he asked automatically. Rylius and the beastman merely stood in silence.

“Because I can feel the potential in both of you, and I think this mission will be a good thing for you two to experience. The world is in turmoil, my boys. There are fights and incidents happening all over the world, and this is a taste of just what’s happening outside of Tel’Han. Just a couple weeks ago, a rumor started that the greatest dragon ever known by man was released and now roams. There are wars going on everywhere, and you need to be prepared should Tel’Han ever find itself involved in one of them.”

Atzar hesitated for only a second before nodding his head in assent to Galla’s request. What else could he do? This was an elder he was talking to. His word was law. He wasn’t allowed to try to object.

“Excellent,” Galla said, clasping his hands together. “Alright, hear me out. There are several things you need to know before I send you there.”

“Wait a second,” Rylius interrupted, “send us there? Fallien isn’t exactly nearby. By the time we get there, the queen will be gone and Fallien will be even more of a wasteland than it already is!” Rylius had never shown much respect to the elders.

“Peace, there’s an easier way to get there,” Galla explained patiently. “I can send you there by magical means and have you in Irrakam within an hour. Now, let me continue. Irrakam, the capital of Fallien, is being attacked probably as we speak. Their assailants are harpies and cultists. Harpies are dangerous. They can fly, and their talons are deadly. I haven’t been told much about the cult of Mitra, but it would be wise to err on the side of caution.”

Atzar was dreading this decision more and more as Galla continued. He knew from his studies that harpies were bad, but he didn’t want to tangle with this “cult” more than he had to, either.

“I’ll drop you near the gates of Irrakam,” Galla said. He thrust a document out for the shaman and mages to read. “This is an Exit Pass; it allows you to exist outside of the Outlander’s Quarters. My friend gave this to me and told me that it would suffice for anybody I wished to send to Fallien.”

Galla paused. “I think that’s all you really need to know. Other than that, find a way to help when you get there. I’m sorry, but I really don’t know much more than you about what exactly is going on over there. Good luck.”

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And that was that. A short conversation with an elder had landed Atzar and his friend right in the middle of a blistering heat like he had never felt before.

He had never left the Comb Mountains of Corone, so the mage was used to the cold side of weather. He could make it through shockingly cold temperatures with no real problem. Heat, however, was an entirely different matter. The bright sun beamed down on him unbearably, and the shade of the various buildings offered little respite from the hot temperatures.

The mage made a mental note: If an elder summons me to his house, ignore it. Run away.

Just then, a commotion broke out at the end of the street and a man in the garb of a city guard pushed his way through the crowds that inhabited the street. He yelled something in a different language at the crowds, and his words had an immediate effect. Many of the people broke and dashed for the nearest buildings, but a handful of the city-dwellers drew a plethora of weapons from their belts, grim faces searching the skies. Atzar, Khungar and Rylius merely stood in the street, not really knowing what to do, and the guard spotted them. Running up to them, he asked them something in his own language that the mage could not understand. Atzar stared at him uncomprehendingly. Letting out an irritated sigh, the guard tried again.

“You and friend have pass?” he asked in broken Common.

“Yeah, we do,” Atzar said, and began fumbling in his pockets to draw the paper out. The guard, however, cut him off.

“No time, no time, show later,” he said, waving his hands impatiently. “You and friend fight? Them need help down Merchant’s Walkway. You fight? Go there. You no fight, find place hide.”

The mage took a moment to digest this jumbled speech, but finally nodded understandingly. It looked as if his first action in Fallien was to come much sooner than he expected. Glancing back at Rylius and his bestial friend with an expression that needed no words, he took off in the direction indicated by the guard, running down the nearly deserted street that had been so crowded only a moment before.

At the end of the street, Atzar’s eyes picked something out. A group of people dashed back and forth between carts in the middle of the street and the buildings nearby, seemingly trying to empty them before the attack came. The mages ran in their direction. Perhaps they could help.

[Rylius]

Rylius froze as the elder spoke the words "queen of Fallien." He stood silently, but his mind was thrown into chaos. This was everything he had dreamed of: a chance to get out of the little mountain village, a chance to see the world, but most importantly, a chance to use his abilities for the better. Then again, he wasn't sure how much he could do, and a full fledged war is hardly a good place to find out. He would have to think about this. Not that he would get the chance.

"Wait a second... send us there? Fallien isn't exactly nearby." In his head, there were a few more words there, but he decided to moderate it a little. "By the time we get there, the queen will be gone and Fallien will be even more of a wasteland than it already is!" And he knew it would be true.

No matter how much he wanted to get away from the village, he had to admit he felt safe there. He wasn't even very good with using his staff as a weapon, much less the magical power he had. Although.. maybe Elara's cantrips will come in handy here. Atzar spoke for him, though, and only a short while later, he found himself preparing to depart his little sanctuary.

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"Atzar, wait!" Rylius watched his friend run right towards where the guard pointed to go fight. Is he nuts? Stranded in a foreign place, however, the human dashed after his friend. Oh well. It's not like we came here to hide, anyways. Though he kept his thoughts positive, Rylius was rather unsure of what he could do if one of those harpy-things attacked him. While running, he grabbed some stones and opened his leather pouch, filling it with as many rocks as he could.

It's bloody hot! Stupid Galla... leaving out small details like heat... fire rain... Rylius looked up, just to see a fireball heading right at where he was going. Oh... sh.. He ran as fast as he could, jumping forward at the last second, but still singing the back of his tunic. As he picked himself up, he shouted out. "Dammit Atzar! Wait up!" The human was uninjured, but the outer layer of his tunic wasn't. Not that it mattered to him anyways, the heat was mostly unbearable. He ripped it off, leaving just a short sleeved variant. Looking at the fabric, he decided it may be useful and stuffed it in his pouch with the rocks before dashing off after Atzar.

He was starting to regret taking his staff with him, but he knew he'd need it later. It wasn't helping him run, though. "Where're we going anyways, Atzar?" he yelled up to his companion. Not that it did too much good, with the constant chaotic roar surrounding the city. Soon, though, he saw the end of the street, where a bunch of people emptied loads of.. something, though Rylius wasn't sure exactly what. They looked like they needed it done fast.

Rylius was breathing heavily. The heat was getting to him, but he had to prove to both himself and everyone else he wasn't completely useless, so it kept him running. The two mages headed towards the carts, hoping to help.

[Khungar]

Oh, god its hot.

The blistering sun and the baking sands nearly knocked him off his feet as he materialized alongside Rylius and Atzar. It wasn't bad enough he was covered snout to hoof in thick brown fur; he still had on his heavy wool vest. His mouth immediately hung open, his beastman instinct trying to cool his tongue. He looked around as slowly as he could, the wool collar rubbing uncomfortably against the back of his neck. He wasn't sweating yet, but already he was unbearably hot.

It was a strange feeling, popping up out of nowhere. Everything around him was foreign, different from anything he had ever known, from the dusty ground to the architecture of the buildings up ahead. Even the people who parted for a strange guard seemed new to Khungar. The difference between them and the other people he had known was subtle, but a difference nonetheless.

Atzar and Rylius had taken off after the guard had given them instructions, but Khungar was just too hot. The sweating had started, but he was loathe to remove his vest for fear of losing it; he'd had it for a long, long time. But he couldn't just stand there; Galla had sent him here for a reason. So he began to walk, his hooves' clicking muffled by the thin layer of dust on the street. He kept his eyes forward as the eyes of others followed his progress. He was naturally shy, but the heat made him grumpy.

Why don't you look somewhere else. Like, for the enemy. Or for some cover. They'll probably kill you first, idiots.

As a fireball exploded by Rylius, the beastman made a quick step forward, but regretted it as the man got to his feet and continued running. He knew he was going to have to conserve himself if he was going to remain conscious long enough to fight these harpies and cultists. He had met some cultists who dealt with his old pack; they were never very friendly.

He reached the carts just as Atzar and Rylius did, but he wasn't looking to help. He did make his way over to some carts though, and looked through them. The owner took one glance at him before frantically grabbing another pile of fabrics and containers and rushing them into a nearby building. Frustrated, Khungar slapped the wooden frame of the cart and moved to another. Aha. He reached into the near-empty cart and removed a dirty clay jug. With one hand, he raised it to his lips and began chugging down the warm water. When he was done, he set the pot down again and turned to see what the others were doing.