Dancing the Fata Morgana (Closed)

[Firehazurd]

Sleek walked slowly and with a slight limp through the vast black terrain that was stretched out before him. It seemed as if the black sand that paved the path before him encompassed the world. Sleek knew better, of course, but often one’s sensibilities are affected by extreme temperature and constant exertion. At any rate, Sleek was well past being tired of the desert. His disdain of the black ocean of sand was only rivaled by his hate for the little gibbering object that constantly decided to open its “mouth” and criticize Sleek and his companion. If he hadn’t needed the nuisance of an artifact, he would have long ago hurled the thing off some cliff or into a river perhaps. Of course the things one hates the most are often the things he cannot be rid of.

Sleek favored his travel companion well enough, on the other hand. He had proven quite useful on several occasions already and, though not the most intelligent of people, he had shown a great deal of ingenuity when it was needed. Rakh, the supposedly reincarnated form of Ithermoss, had his own reasons for traveling with Sleek through the desert and Sleek was sure it had something to do with the religion that the up-worlder ascribed to. Reasons did not affect Sleek, he was more than happy to have someone of Rakh’s ability along for the journey.

It had been a long trip already, Sleek realized as he walked gingerly across the hot black sand. Since he had nothing better to do, and having already fantasized a great deal about what would lie in wait at the pair’s destination, Sleek began to reflect on the series of events leading up to the present, trying to make sense of it all by running it through his head one more time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The small grey creature still had his doubts that the smooth skinned young up-worlder could be the new container of Ithermoss’s soul. He didn’t really put much credit in the beliefs of the Drake-kin when he had been alive and well, and he still didn’t share his zeal for the Thayne that he rambled about at length. Of course Sleek was in the minority, but that was something he was used to. Despite Sleek’s disbelief in the religion of the leader of the Red Hand, there were certain things that could not be denied. The up-worlder shared many of Ithermoss’s strange mannerisms and speech patterns. He also wielded the mighty power of voice that Sleek had only seen used by Ithermoss himself.

It was also impossible to deny Rakh’s effect on the denizens of the Red Hand. Just a few short months ago, the halls of the Red Hand had been bare. One could easily walk the Hand’s width without ever crossing another soul. Now, the peaceful serenity had been replaced by what could most easily described as a bustling of activity. It seemed that Rakh’s appearance had stirred the water and kicked up many who had lain dormant.

Sleek wasn’t sure if the Red Hand’s newfound bustle of activity was something he liked, or hated. It made it much easier to access various sources of expertise and to get a helping hand with some tremendous project, but it also ensured that Sleek couldn’t fly through the halls in his DugBug. He had tried, but some of the up-worlders put a stop to that when someone nearly got run over. They had threatened to take the machine away, but Sleek managed to convince them that he would refrain from his reckless joyrides. Of course if they had taken it away, Sleek would simply have made a new one. At any rate, he was still permitted to use the machine in the depths of the mines, when no one was around.

It was on such a day that Sleek found himself in the deepest part of the underground mine, driving the DugBug in wild circles, occasionally drilling a small whole in the rock wall. Sleek had made sure that there was no one who would be put in “danger” with his exuberant display, though he had started his fun nearly an hour and a half ago, and Sleek was sure someone would come and ruin his fun at any moment. It happened every time, and Sleek knew it would happen this time as well. But who would it be?

[Ithermoss]

The land here was barren and desolate. His feet were blistered from black grit that passed for sand in these parts. They had made the wise decision to refrain from traveling at midday, to keep their bare feet from sizzling on the burning black sands that had been absorbing the sun’s rays all day long like a slab of bacon on a too-hot griddle. Food. He’d tried to forget about food. The empty feeling in his stomach nagged him by day, and it’s growling kept him up at night. He wasn’t bitter, though, because the company was good. He found it hard to relate to his little friend sometimes, as his own culture was one that held violence in high esteem. The little one, as rumor had it, was banished from his own tribe for using his tail as a weapon. Punishable by exile in one culture, and praised and accepted in another. It was his craftiness that attracted the Thayne’s son, for he among others had been able to look past the Stilkink’s gangly appearance and realize that the creature had an innate sense of genius, when he wasn’t wreaking havoc and causing an uproar. Rakh, sick of looking on the vast expanses of black nothing before them, gazed down at his companion who was scampering along same as he, though he had an odd loud-mouthed contraption in his possession that wouldn’t give either of them a moment’s peace. He almost buried it one night so the two of them could get some sort of sleep before walking through the desert for the next day. Rakh tried to ignore it as best he could.

“Tell me again where we’re going?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Who indeed. Rakh had been mining that day, as usual. Deep in his tunnels of delyn and damascus, the racket was a constant echo accented with the gritty thud of the miner’s pickaxe cleaving stone in two. He almost had a full shipment, in fact. The bags were just about full and ready to be taken to the bazaar. Mining seemed to be Rakh’s default; not merrymaking, drinking, or mating like some of his other tribesmen had taken to. He was a man truly devoted to his work, and his physique reflected it. Much do the miner’s dismay, bits of rock and ore had begun to sift through the cracks in the ceiling. He knew what it meant, too: cave in. It would take him a week to clear the rubble and resume work again. After lugging his equipment free of where he was sure the rocks were going to fall and getting clear himself, he couldn’t help but feel a little angry at the stilkink. He knew he was tearing around in his contraption again and making a mess of things.

“What are you doing?! You’re going to bring the whole mine down on top of us!” Rakh shrieked down the stone corridors. The response was simply more of the same. More fine sand sifted through the high ceiling, Rakh’s cue to leave and take his effects with him. Struggling with the large bag, he pulled his things free from danger and made his way down to where the stilkink was frenzying about. “Stop! Sleek!” he waved his hands frantically, but the little one kept on driving around. Road rage, circia 1293 Tempus Chronai. “Stop! Sleek! STOP!”

It was too late though. The roar of cave-in filled the air, the hollow sound of rock impacting rock, and years of work going down the latrine all too apparent. The lights went out then, the system of mirrors that Cadmus had set up to light the whole stronghold had been disrupted, but for some strange reason, there was a dim glow emanating from a hole in the floor - a place where the cave-in had punched straight down into something unknown. The miner’s eyes widened with awe. “Sleek,” he called out in the stillness, clouds of dust and ore billowing through the air. “Sleek, are you there? Do you see this?”

[Firehazurd]

Sleek realized that his fond remembrance of the mechanical frolicking had caused him to grow quiet and stare off into nothingness. Various critters that had been enjoying the cool and comforting night began to scurry back into their homes as Sleek mindlessly moved over them. His silent reverie was broken by the abrupt question that came from his companion. Sleek looked up and saw that in the distance, the dark sky was beginning to light up as the sun began to peak its nose up over the horizon, greeting the new day.

“Tell me again where we’re going?”

Sleek stopped and reached back into his back pack, into a side pocket and procured the dark tinted goggles he had purchased from the strange merchant area appropriately called the Bizarre. He donned the red lensed goggles and looked around the desert a bit, testing them out. With the tinting, it was a little darker than he would have liked, but the sun was only just rising. At it’s peak it would be fairly comfortable for the small grey creature.

Sleek continued his forward march and decided to answer Rakh’s query.

“Stupid talking thing say we go to ‘Place of Power.’ Something about ‘Thayne’ you always talk about. No know what mean. Just know have to walk in desert to get there. Sleek think it treasure. Things Sleek can trade for good stuff. Maybe something for drink.”

The strange object that was resting in Sleek’s back pack, who had been fairly quiet for the time being, decided to speak up at that moment.

“Who are you calling ‘stupid,’ stupid? Who’s more foolish? The fool or the fool who follows the fool? Besides, I’ve told you a thousand times. I’m taking you to a temple, a place of great and vast power. Power beyond your wildest dreams… we’d probably already be there if it weren’t for the fact that you two oafs walk slower than a sloth stuck in molasses in the frozen north, walking up hill, backwards. It’s a surprise you two managed to get anything done…” the small artifact continued to chatter away incessantly as Sleek walked on.

Sleek could not imagine a thing he hated more at that point.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Sleek, are you there? Do you see this?”

Sleek was there, and he could clearly see the light glowing through the vast opening in the floor of the mine. He had managed to jump out of the DugBug as it fell through the hole in the floor and crashed onto the floor of the next level after falling for what seemed like hundreds of feet. Sleek was precariously perched on top of a bit of rock that was jutting out of the wall on the far side of the hole. His perch was actually the remnant of the floor he had just been standing on.

“Sleek here. Sleek alright. Sleek see. What you think it is?”

As Sleek stared down at the strange light radiating from whatever sat in wait through the hole, he noticed that some of the caved in rocks near where Rakh was standing had fallen in such a way to create a ramp of sorts, and it seemed to continue down to what looked like a natural stair about fifty feet down. Sleek presumed that if one could safely traverse the fallen rock ramp, they could then easily take the stairs the rest of the way down.

“Sleek see stairs. Can go find out what is ourselves.”

Sleek looked over the hole at Rakh, and then measured the distance silently in his mind. Once satisfied with his ability as it related to the distance, he crouched down low, took a few quick steps and leapt through the air, aiming near where Rakh stood.
__________________

[Ithermoss]

“That would be me. I’m the fool who’s ‘following.’ But,” he paused to take a breath. “You’re the fool who let this fool put you in his backpack. I wouldn’t say your position is in the positive either. So unless you want us to bury you under a dune someplace, you had best choose your words more carefully.” Rakh didn’t really like the idea of threatening something he knew he needed, and he was sure that the thought of being isolated again was the thing’s worst fear, which could explain how much the thing was talking. Rakh thought about the one time he was lost in the mines for a week, and how lonely he got. He couldn’t imagine being trapped inside some sort of doodad, with the only means of communication being his voice for all eternity. Regardless, the whateveritwas had plenty of time in it’s existence to learn some decent social skills.

“Place of power,” Rakh frowned to himself. “The gods may have a temple here, but under how many feet of sand, I don’t know. Why would a one of the Thayne collect followers in the middle of the desert?” Rakh eyed the thing in the stilkink’s hands wearily. “And what would you have to do with it? I would hope that you’re not ...” he stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes wide open and targeting the artifact. “What god are you aligned with? Speak!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rakh caught the stilkink’s hand as he leapt towards him, but he wasn’t at ease with the thought of descending into the new chamber they’d found. The air felt cool for some reason; damp, as if it carried water. The cavern walls below seemed slick, and glistened with moisture. If this was what he thought it was, he had indeed dug quite far. The Red Hand compound stretched underground perhaps farther than anyone had ever imagined.

“Alright, Sleek. Be careful,” he whispered as he lowered the gangle-creature into the pit. “If you see anything that looks dangerous, squeeze my hand. Don’t startle it by shrieking.” The muscles in his arm knotted up as he held fast to the stilkink’s forearm. He wasn’t letting go anytime soon, and luckily for him, the little creature was light enough that it wouldn’t be a problem. He inched over too, getting a better look at what he was lowering the little one into. There were stairs alright. He could see them, and the dim glow lit the ramshackle ramp just enough. Laying down on his chest with his arm draped over the edge of the rock, he still held on just incase the ramp wasn’t steady enough to hold the machinist’s weight. He wouldn’t have any damage come to the Red Hand’s best tinkerer. That wouldn’t do at all. But peering over the mouth of the pit, he noticed something. There was a dancing light on the wall, almost as if there was an open pool of water reflecting light. And if there was enough that there were waves, judging by the reflection, the two of them may very well have stumbled upon the northwestern shoreline of Greater Corone.

“Steady now. Everything stable?”

[Firehazurd]

Sleek stopped in his tracks as he heard his traveling companion ask a question Sleek was sure would result in a long and boring conversation about some deity or another. It was hot, the sun was hurting Sleek's eyes even behind the tinted goggles, and Sleek was tired of walking. He plopped down in between two cacti. His jacket cast a nice shadow on the tired grey creature. Sleek retrieved the talking artifact and placed it on the ground directly in front of him.

"Hey now! Watch it, I wouldn't want to get any of that black sand in my inner workings. That would not be pretty..."

Sleek looked at the artifact expectantly as it shift about, seemingly in attempts to ensure that none of the overabundant black sand threatened to invade through some unseen gap in the object’s defenses. More than once the object looked to Sleek with some amount of expectation in it’s “eyes” as if waiting for Sleek to produce a bit of cloth or something for the artifact to rest on. No such cloth was forthcoming.

The obnoxious artifact finally decided that it was safe enough from the sand, and that it was time to continue speaking. Sleek rolled his eyes and, given the size of the Stilkink’s eyes, the gesture was not a subtle one. The artifact looked over at Rakh, cleared it’s “throat” and prepared to speak…

“My mouth is parched. Give me a bit to drink.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sleek was hanging mere inches above the debris pile that had created the surface he intended to use as a ramp down into the unknown reaches of this cavern. His feet dangled slightly and he kicked a few times in attempts to test the distance. One of his big toes scrapped the rocky surface and reassured Sleek that there was, in fact a solid bit of rock beneath him. However, he had plenty of experience with loose footing and he wasn’t about to risk a small landslide that would probably result in some broken bones.

Sleek let his tail drop down below him and rest on the rocky ramp. He then pushed as hard as he could with his tail in attempts to measure the stability of the pile beneath him. Nothing shifted. It seemed sturdy enough. Sleek was sure he would be able to walk on it with little trouble, but he wasn’t too sure about Rakh. He was, after all, much heavier than Sleek was. Of course, if he did fall, the man was also much more durable than Sleek. In the interest of discovery, Sleek decided that the gains probably outweighed the danger. It was under this influence that Sleek responded to Rakh.

“Sleek think it sturdy. Can probably walk on it no problem. Sleek think he see water, but not sure. Rocks in way.”

A sudden movement in his periphery caught Sleek’s attention. His head instinctually jerked in the direction of the movement, but he saw nothing other than the light dancing about as it played off the rock wall. It was probably nothing. Sleek thought to himself. Nothing but a shadow.

[Ithermoss]

Had Rakh a mind for subtlety, he would have recognized the odd contraption’s ignoring his question as contempt, instead of simply not hearing him. It gave him a second or two to rephrase the question in a different, somewhat less commanding tone. Eyeing the artifact, he got down on his hands and knees and spoke straight into what looked like the thing’s ear, exactly like how he remembered townsfolk speaking to him when he didn’t understand something in the common tongue: slowly, loudly, and deliberately.

“CAN - YOU - TELL - ME - WHAT - GOD - YOU - SER... water?”

The thing’s demand for water brought nothing short of a surprised look on his face. He was already running low, and dumping more water into this thing’s mouth wasn’t his idea of a plan. As slow as his wit was, it sounded more and more like a waste of resources every time they had to feed this thing. If they didn’t find an alternative soon, that would be the end for them both: either by dying of thirst or the artifact talking the two of them into comatose. He thought for a second, that if the two of them didn’t give it any more water, then perhaps that would be the end of its incessant nagging, although it would spell certain doom for him and his compatriot. They would have to find some other means of staying hydrated if they were to survive. That was in it hit him: the thing was only demanding water. The few bottled beers he had thankfully brought with him from his newly brewed batch spice-ale could just have enough water content to keep the two of them alive for a day or two more. The Thayne’s son figured it was worth a shot.

“Water? Sure. You can have some water,” he smiled to himself as he uncapped his waterskin and poured a decent amount into the artifact’s mouth. He’d have to find a point in time when the artifact wasn’t in earshot, then he could explain the plan to his short companion. He didn’t want the Stilkink thinking that the heat had suddenly gotten to him. There was definitely a method to this madness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Alright,” he said as he let go of his pale friend’s arm and slid down onto the stairs himself. The terrain was sturdy enough, just as the machinist had said. He saw the bit of motion out of the corner of his eye, yet thought nothing of it as well. That would prove to be his first mistake. A sudden chill shivered its way up his spine as his joints began to bind up, almost as if they were being frozen solid, -which wasn’t far from the truth. A curse was bestowed upon him the day he was bitten by the kendergoyle, a subtle one requiring the presence of a catalyst to activate it. How unlucky for him that this catalyst was in the very same room with them: a creature made entirely of shadow.

“Sleek,” he said worriedly, not even noticing the stony patches hardening in his flesh. His movements were suddenly sluggish and clumsy, as if each limb weighed an extra fifty pounds. Joints stiffened and muscles refused to respond, almost as if he’d been struck by some sort of anemone. He felt his body shutting down around him. “Sleek!” he called out, his horrified gaze locked onto his own arms and legs as they slowly turned to stone. The third call never came, however, as he began to instinctually take on the characteristics of a werewolf, and in place of the call was a ferocious snarl. He could only hope that the sudden change of shape would slow the petrification’s progress long enough for them to do something about it.

[Firehazurd]

The object's face, which was represented by the crude relief carved into the objects otherwise smooth spherical surface, twisted into a very lifelike semblance of a grimmace as Rakh bellowed into it's "ear." Sleek also gave his travel companion a strange look. However, his look changed quickly as he realized the danger the object was putting them in. They hadn't brought enough water for three, they had only just enough for themselves. Sleek couldn't believe he hadn't realized the creature's game before they had come this far. It was a quiet and ponderous stare that Sleek wore as he watched a bit more of their drinking water pour down the object's filthy mouth.

"There," the object spoke with a satisfied smirk on it's face. "That wasn't so bad. Things always seem to go better for everyone when we are civil and polite with one another. We would not want to become barbarians." The final word was burped rather than spoken as the object released a mighty belch that one wouldn't expect from something without a stomach.

"What were we talking about again?"

Sleek shot a disgusted look at the object and spoke up, answering it's question for Rakh. "You are telling us which God you are working for. Rakh want know. Tell us!"

"Now now. You are in no position to be making demands of me. However, since I am obviously the more intelligent of the three of us, I will take the higher road and appease your obviously puny brains." Speaking further and even louder to mask the begginnings of verbal complaint on either of the insultee's parts, the object continues, "I do not 'serve' any god. I serve myself. However, I was created with a purpose. The purpose was, obviously, designed by my creator. Therefore as long as I fufill my purpose, I may be serving my creator by proxy. My creator in turn served one of the deities you speak of. Therefor, it could be determined that I do infact serve a god, simply by fufilling my purpose. Isn't logic wonderfull? You should try it sometimes, really you should. Maybe it's a bit to hard for you... I wouldn't be surprised."

Seeing the obvious look on Sleek's face the object decided that perhaps it wasn't the best time to fool around.

"I serve Khal-jaren, the Great Sage."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sleek had already begun his descent down the rubble hewn path when he heard the begginning of Rakh's transformation. He turned and an scene of the likes he had never layed eyes upon was unfolding before him. Patches of Rakh's body had become stone, other parts were twisting and bulging and hair was spreading across his body like flames consuming an old wooden house. Sleek stumbled back at the sight of his friend and at the sound of the howl he loosed upon Sleek's ears. Only moments ago he was calling for his help frantically, and now Sleek's friend was becoming a monster.

A flurry of movement, not unlike the movement from before, caught Sleek's eye. He turned and gasped at what he saw. More appropriately, what he didn't see. Lurking just beyond striking distance was what appeared to be a creature composed of nothing. Sleek's darkvision was giving him a good look at the vast cavern around them, but where this creature stood, there was nothing but blackness. The darkness seemed to be in the shape of a large feline, though it had many legs that seemed to vanish and reappear like cloth being blown in the wind. Despite it's odd means of conveyence, the creature seemed to move with an exemplery degree of control and ease. Not only that, but it was fast.

It bounded across the cavern floor and began to close the distance between it and Rakh. Sleek turned quickly and began to scamper at top speed back up the path he had just tumbled down, desperatly hoping to make it to his surely vunerable friend before the creature could sink it's shadow fangs into Rakh's flesh.

The creature leapt through the air, it's too many paws producing far too many claws as it flew toward it's target. Sleek rolled, closing the distance between himself and Rakh, and took a crouching stance inbetween him and the pouncing shadow beast. A brilliant blue light filled the cavern as Sleek's tail cackled to life poised over his head in attack position. The sporatic blue light hit the shadow creature like a tide of boiling hot water. It's form twisted and shook as the violent flickering of the light changed the shape of the shadow rapidly and randomly. An inhuman scream that seemed to cause what little light there was to cower in fright escaped the shadowy throat of the creature. A scream of pain. The creature fell to the cavern floor and quickly regained it's footing. The beast began to circle the pair of intruders, staring hungrily at them with eyes of pure shadow and hate.

Sleek turned to Rakh and spoke in a concerned voice, "Is Rakh alright? Sleek think we need move. Not safe here... "

[Ithermoss]

“Khal’jaren,” Rakh mumbled in reply. That made sense to the warrior; an artifact of Khal’jaren’s sort would require a bit of in depth thinking in order to use it effectively. This type of thinking, however, wasn’t up the tribal’s alley. There were a great many things he didn’t know, any or all of which might be required to get through this predicament. He knew at that moment that he was by no means equipped to handle the situation. The brew he had brought with him had most likely already been considered by the contraption, and quantified in their current carriage of fluid. Wiping his tanned brow, despair began to radiate throughout his being.

“Sleek,” Rakh said, motioning for his companion to shift his gaze to the sand below…

“Water going to run out. How are we going to survive the desert? Do not want to drink my own pee.” he scrawled out with his finger, which he drew back covered in grains of hot black sand already having absorbed a great deal of the sun’s heat. “Pour beer in thing’s mouth instead? Get it drunk next time it asks?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The reply to both Sleek and the foul creature was a wet-toothed growl. His werewolf form somewhat well known to him for its endurance and metabolic abilities, he could only hold off the stone curse for so long before he fell entirely to its magic. A bit of creative luck kissed his hands, then, when the shapeshifter noticed that they had both solidified into stone; it was one hell of a blessing in disguise to be sure. What once was soft flesh and fur had just become arms and armor alike. Whatever the weakness of this creature, it was going to have one rough time fighting a creature with fists of stone. At that, the Thayne’s son charged straight at the creature, his right arm dragging behind him like an anchor along the ocean floor.

“Sleek, any ideas what this thing is,” he called over his shoulder, lurching to gain enough momentum. Jerking his torso to the left, his right arm became a whirling hammer aimed for the dark-spot’s head. Giving him a confused glance in return, apparently not quite understanding why its prey attacked it back, the blow met its mark yet didn’t connect. In fact, it passed right through the thing and landed on the side of a smooth stalagmite that was lost in a cloud of rubble and dust. With a grunt, the inertia sent the warrior staggering to the pile of rock that was his unintended target.

As inadequate and frustrated as he was feeling right now, it did feel good to know that he succeeded in making a mess of something. Maybe that was the wolf thinking for him, and maybe it wasn't. He only knew that he wasn't going to be able to beat this thing directly, and finesse wasn't his forte by any stretch of the imagination.

[Firehazurd]

The name meant nothing to Sleek. He could not care any less that such was the case either. As far as he was concerned, the artifact could have said “Billy Bob” and he would have responded the same way, mild disinterest. However, he could not help but be somewhat intrigued by his companion’s reaction. The up-worlder’s face seemed to go through a series of uncomfortable changes that are usually associated with strained thought. The spectacle was a simple source of entertainment for Sleek as he simultaneously wondered what Rakh was thinking and what animal his face most resembled at any given point.

Suddenly, the man ended his comical facial display and began to scribble something into the sand. Luckily, Sleek was not completely illiterate, though he wondered what Rakh would have done had such been the case. Rakh had apparently been thinking about both drinking his own urine and getting the artifact drunk, not was Sleek had been expecting, but no less entertaining.

The prospect of doing anything that might actually loosen the tongue of their disembodied passenger/guide immediately repulsed Sleek, but given the other option, he eventually deemed it preferable and nodded his head in agreement to his companion.

“Hey, what are you two loafers doing over there by yourself? Can’t you hear me speaking? If you want to get there during this era you should probably tie things up and get a move on already.” The artifact’s face loosened as it released an artificial sigh, “Of course all this work has tired me, I suppose we could simply stay here and talk about my theories on the major faults of humanity…mphhl”

With the artifact secured in Sleek’s satchel once again, the small grey creature turned to his traveling companion and motioned for him to continue the march.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sleek wasn’t sure what distressed him more, the shadow creature or the aberration that used to be Rakh. In the end the shadow creature won out, but it was definitely a photo finish. At least Sleek didn’t have to worry about the furry one attacking him, at least not for now.

“Sleek think it not good!” was Sleek’s indignant reply to a question Rakh was sure he wouldn’t have had an answer to, and scampering a bit further away was Sleek’s cowardly reply to Rakh’s attack passing completely through the creature’s “head.” A moment of thought made Sleek ask himself why he would be afraid of a creature that seemed, for all intents, to be immaterial. A demonic howl from the wraith’s throat did well to renew the tinkerer’s healthy sense of self-preservation.

Sleek, while looking for the best escape route, noticed the reflections being cast off the surface of the water; he had noticed them earlier when Rakh pointed them out, but had not really given them much thought. The creature had reacted poorly to the light from Sleek’s tail. Perhaps given enough light, the creature could be killed. Where there are reflections, there is a source of light. If Sleek could get Rakh to open up whatever hole might be letting in light from the outside, they might be able to defeat this beast.

First however, Sleek had to get Rakh and the monster separated. Sleek quickly bounded across the distance separating the monsters and himself and leapt onto the wall directly beside them and let his tail flare to life with cackling blue energy, casting it’s wild sporadic light on the battling duo. Hopefully it would be enough to drive the creature away for enough time.

[Ithermoss]

This seemed like their only shot. Talking to the relic, or whatever it was, got them so mixed up that Rakh had to look to see which way their tracks were coming from, so that they were able to continue walking in the same direction as before. The strange box was beginning to take its toll on the two of them in more ways than one. With every passing hour, Rakh’s stores of water became less and less, and his patience shorter and shorter. He was debating turning around, but he came to realize that the contraption’s purpose was to impede any and all travel through the Black Desert – not just to Khal’jaren’s library.

So they marched onward through the dunes of black, the Mountains of Dawn far to their right. Every muscle in the warrior’s legs took to the work of slogging through the sandy terrain, as every muscle was needed. The scorpions were easy enough to avoid, generally speaking. They were brightly colored and quite large - impossible to miss, really. The ones that weren’t bright orange were about knee-height, and again, can’t miss them. What Rakh hated, however, was that whenever he took a step his feet sunk into the sand up to the ankles. Walking around in the mess was increasingly difficult, but with his newfound plan, he could only hope that they’d get there before their stores ran dry.

They had brought twice ten skins of water between them for the entire trip, and they were down half of that with much more journey in sight. Rakh hoped that they had some ounce of luck in finding a well or oasis near the Library, despite his hearing that Tel Moranfauglir afforded no such convenience for those fearless enough to venture into the wastes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rakh’s patience was running out, as was his time. His legs were slowly succumbing to the curse that now had his arms. When you’re turning to stone, however, the progression of flesh to rock can’t be slow enough. He couldn’t even get to his feet because the weight of his arms foiled any attempts at sitting upright. Sleek’s sudden flash of light couldn’t have come at a more opportune moment; the creature seemed to writhe in pain as it leapt to the other side of the craggy enclave to escape the light’s intensity.

Rakh knew this was his chance. The stilkink beside him, he drew in a great breath in what might have been his last had it not been for his companion’s intervention, and with a conscious prayer to the Thayne, willed that his breath shatter the very surface of stone on the other side of the cavern. With a throaty roar that even threatened to shake apart the stone that formed his arms and legs, the cavern’s resonance frequency was found in a single note, now echoing throughout the forest of stalagmites. Whether or not he hit his target, he didn’t know, because Sad Brother Oblivion lost consciousness amidst the rolling carpet of clouds of dust and debris.

[Firehazurd]

The bright and accursed sun was hanging just above the horizon. It almost seemed to be fixed in that position, taunting the travelers with the cold and refreshing night that simply would not come. Sleek’s posture was more degenerative than normal, as his small pack and his jacket had weighed him down more than he was used to. Not to mention the ever-increasing weight of the artifact in his bag.

It seemed that the wretched thing didn’t do much of anything other than drink and talk. Each time they gave it a bit to drink, it just got that much heavier and that much more annoying. Sleek could here it jabbering away indignantly from within it’s cloth prison. Sleek had begun to question the entire trip. Had it really been worth all this trouble? What if there was nothing where they were going? What if it was all just a trick perpetrated by an evil little artifact out to get vengeance on the first couple of passers-by? What could possibly be worth all the effort of traveling through this deadly desert for days? Most of all, how much further could it possibly be?

“We’re here.”

The artifact had somehow wiggled its way up so that its face was sticking out into the open air. Sleek gave a quick glance around, surveying the area. There was nothing there. “I know it doesn’t look like much right now, but you’ve got to say the password or it wont show itself. Wouldn’t be much of anything if it weren’t protected now would it be?” Sleek retrieved the talking object from his bag and held it out facing himself.

“Sleek waiting…”

“I always find it hard to speak with a dry mouth.” The artifact shot an expectant glance over at Rakh, then gestured with its eyes at the water skin at his side.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sleek was forced to shield his eyes for, as the smoke and dust cleared, a torrent of light poured into the cavern from the massive whole opened up by Rakh’s attack. Before the smoke had cleared, Sleek had heard the pain-filled scream of the shadow beast. Though he had not seen the creature’s demise, he was sure that the beast was gone.

Something caught his eye, a strange glare of light amongst the debris. Sleek braved the light and retrieved the strange object. It was a box made of slabs of obsidian that looked to be just the right size to hold a melon, or perhaps a human head. Sleek quickly found the latch and, after some fiddling, managed to get it open. The old rusted metal hinges creaked with their old age and dust fell from hidden cracks in the boxes surface. From within the impossible dark box there came a sound; a sort of soft chuckling. The chuckling evolved into outright laughter and soon the voice in the box was hysterical. Sleek couldn’t help but laugh a little bit with the disembodied voice, though he wasn’t sure why.

The laughter was short lived though, as the voice had more pressing matters. “Congratulations, you’ve just discovered the most important thing you will ever happen across. Me.”

Sleek reached into the box and felt a strange object lying inside. He grabbed onto it and lifted it from the box. It was a strange wooden bust that seemed to be carved by a child. Its features were poorly designed and only barely resembled an up-worlder’s face. However its face moved naturally, as if it were a living-breathing creature especially when it spoke.

“I can lead you to the greatest treasure the world has ever know. I can take you to a place of great power. All of your wildest dreams will come true and what not. All it takes to get there is a small stroll through Tel Moranfauglir. Not a problem for you I would imagine.”

Sleek bounded across the cavern, strange object in hand, to the limp unconscious body of Rakh, who looked more like a large furry throw rug. Sleek ran up to the creatures body and poked it a few times with his tale then spoke into the creature’s ear.

“Sleek need to know if Rakh know where is Tall Morning-fog-leer, we should go.”

[Ithermoss]

And that was Rakh's cue. During the course of the last hour or so, the rarely-this-clever weregoyle had switched the contents of a beer bottle he had with him, with the contents of the waterskin. He'd brewed the stuff himself from his own personal stores. Potent stuff too, from what he could remember. He'd left the wort to ferment for far too long, forgetting about it completely after a month of it sitting in his personal armory, so the hoppy flavor of the yeasty beer went down rough as nails - in a good way. Rakh "sampled" a large tankard (what's sampling when you can drown yourself in it) back in his stronghold, and found that he could barely keep his bearings as he walked straight to the bathroom. It wasn't bad; just really strong. With the sequential daytime heating and nighttime cooling, Rakh was certain that the ale he'd made had gotten a tick stronger while they'd been in the desert.

"Mostly backwash now, but here you go. This is just about the last of it," the warrior bluffed a disappointed tone. Unstopping the waterskin's mouth, he upended it until the sloshing contents began to pour into the odd relic's mouth. The artifact, at this point, still without a proper name other than "the obnoxious thing," spluttered under the first few drops, but eventually accepted the liquid in its strangely all-too-human mouth. Rakh waited for the froth to subside before continuing until all the stout beer in the waterskin was spent - the few drops left clinging to the container’s mouth.

“Woah!” the relic yammered. “Something must have gotten in the water last night! Whew!” For a moment, an expression was frozen on the odd contraption’s face; it didn’t change, or even flich when the weregoyle waved his hand back and forth past the thing’s ‘eyes.’ Something like despair washed over him as he fretted he might have just broken the thing, his gaze shifting to meet Sleek’s.

Spluttering to life then, the artifact uttered a highly amusing string of phrases that Rakh could only compare to one of the most intoxicated bar patrons he’d ever met; phrases that need not be printed here . . . or repeated to your mother. Looking up, drooling and bleary-eyed, the odd little box blinked a few times and smacked its lips. “Wha? Owdid-eye-gedddere?!”

Rakh grinned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Almost as soon as what he could only describe as a shadow creature was dispatched, the stone curse faded from the warrior’s flesh along with the wolf-like features he had just taken on. It was frustrating not to know his own body; he remembered that cold night on the mountain when he was bitten by the elfling. He knew something wasn’t right about the way the wound had healed, but he couldn’t quite pin it down. When the scab had come off, the skin there was unusually stiff, much much more than a typical scar would normally be. Usually, due to his being in tune with the beasts of the field and air, his wounds healed without much trouble. He now knew why. Shadow brought on odd changes in the warrior, changes he would either have to fight off, or succumb to entirely.

Sitting up, almost unaware of his surroundings, he glared at the little object Sleek held in his gangly palms. “What’s making all that rack… oh.” Getting his bearings, Rakh came fully to his senses and scrunched up his nose at the odd name his friend spoke. “Tel Moranfauglir? What on earth would you want to go there for? I heard it was a wasteland.”

He was more interested, albeit slightly, in the strange taste that the air carried; it was slightly metallic, and earthy of course, as most things coming from the soil often were. It smelled a tick sharper than what he was used to mining, which was a mixture of damascus and delyn. His thoughts hung eagerly on the idea of carting the load of ore back to the bazaar and getting a hefty bag of gold in return. He had already stocked up half a load from a previous month’s work, and this would easily fill the rest of the order. There was a mess of crushed rocks and dust everywhere. How lucky for him that he had eleven burlap bags more until the shipment would be complete.

((Mining thread in question... http://64.233.161.104/search?q=cache:KJ6LdPqNBHsJ:www.althanas.com/world/archive/index.php/t-7051.html+%22mining+training+needed%22&hl=en&gl=us&ct=clnk&cd=1 ))

[Firehazurd]

While the unrelenting sun beat away at Sleek's back, the inebriated artifact stammered into the dry, hot air "I shwear! Da temple'sh shposed to be right *blurp* right here."

The little object peered around it's immediate surroundings as if looking for some sign or posting that would jog it's memory. All it saw, of course, was the endless and vast expanse of black desert. Sleek began to see the potential flaw in placating the little object with alcohol. However it was the only way that he knew of to actually get through this barren wasteland.

"Little box, where is treasure?! We walk all through hot stinking sandy place and listen to you mouth flapping like... flapping thing in wind! Where is it? Speak!"

"Hold yer horsh*hic* ...yer horsh*hic* now jusht wait a shecond!" The disembodied head pondered hard for a few moments, and then came to life with realization. " I forgot! There'sh a pashword!"

"What is password?"

"Probishcus!" The small guide declared both drunkly and proudly with a big stupid grin on his face.

Nothing happened.

"Probishcus!" It proclaimed, the smile on it's face loosing some if it's light.

"Probishcus! Probishcus! Probischus!" Still nothing happened. "I think that my shlur might be shpeaked shome."

"Pro-Biscuits!" Sleek said tentatively.

"No Probishcus! The thing on a butterfliesh fashe... you know! A probishcus!"

"Pro-fish-guts?"

"Probishcus! You dummy head!"

"Probe-shotglass?"

"PRO-BIS-CUS!" The artifact was screaming now and his voice echoed through the vast emptiness all around the traveling party. Even before the sound of the object's voice left the air, a deep rumbling shook Sleek to the core. It seemed that someone had inadvertently destroyed the world and Sleek and his companions happened to be at the epicenter of destruction. The small grey creature crouched low on all fours, for stability, and brought his tail up over his body in a defensive position. As the rumbling got louder, Sleek noticed that the sand before them was swelling as if some giant bug were trying to burrow out from below the surface.

Then, a giant bug burrowed out from below the surface.

[Firehazurd]

It was a massive black beetle. Intricate swirling patterns were etched across the glossy carapace of the monster, and it's eyes shone with a deep red light. From somewhere within the behemoths body came a resounding, grinding sound that echoed in Sleek's chest. The beetle's body alone was over ten stories high and twice as long. It's thick massive legs brought it's body half again off the surface of the desert. Sleek caught himself wondering what the creature ate, then realized he may have been about to find out first hand.

Then, instead of swiftly and pointedly consuming Sleek and his posse, the goliath simply plopped down on it's belly. This, of course, is an impossible understatement, as with any creature of that size and weight 'plopping' is more accurately described as rending the face of the planet in two and obliterating any unlucky enough to be within obliteration distance.

Somehow, Sleek managed to survive the world ending plop and found himself staring into the face of the monstrous insect. A thin, previously invisible, seam running along the length of the beast's body issued a quick blast of sand and other tiny particles with a loud, but short, hiss. The creature then, beyond all reason, split in half along this seam.

Opening like some sort of beetle shaped book, the two halves of the monster swung slowly to either side. From within the two halves, massive machinery began to churn and a large tower rose into the desert air. The two halves of the insect's head rose up with the building and formed a massive black door. Within moments an impossible obsidian tower constructed itself in the black sand before Sleek.

"The Temple of Khal-Jaren." The artifact declared softly. Afterwords it emptied the contents of it's 'stomach' and passed out.

Sleek slowly and deliberately approached the impossible doors and rapped gently on their surface. Sleek had to jump back as the doors rapidly opened, albeit only enough to let someone walk through. Sleek turned to Rakh and gave him a why-the-hell-not look and scampered into the dark opening.

[Firehazurd]

As Sleek stepped into the dark temple, the large doors closed behind him. Rakh had been shut out. Sleek immediately turned and began banging on the giant doors trying to re-open them to admit his companion. It was to no avail. The doors would not budge.

Sleek turned to examine his environment. He removed the tinted goggles he had used outside and the dark world was revealed to him. The entire tower appeared to be one continuous room. The cavernous room was filled with tall looming cylindrical structures that rose up like gargantuan pillars that could hold the very sky aloft.

A soft clinking sound drew Sleek's startled attention. A small metallic creature walked slowly into view. It was a strange creature, vaguely resemblant of a grasshopper, though it stood up on two legs. It had a small portly thorax and face that was designed to be both wise and warm. For some reason the creator deigned to fit it with a pair of glasses... probably to complete the intended visual feel.

"Welcome! Welcome to the Library!"

Sleek shook his head, "Sleek was told this was the Temple of Cow-Jar-Un."

"Oh, it is... what is more fitting a temple to the embodiment of knowledge than a library?" The creature's face shifted to one of minor annoyance as it recognized something Sleek was carrying. "Oh! You can deposit that over there in the bin."

Sleek looked down at the passed out artifact in his hands, and quickly scampered over to the container in question. Opening the lid, Sleek was affronted by a cacophony of voices, each issuing from an identical speaking head. The noise awoke Sleek's guide, who began to drunkly accost it's bretherin. Sleek hurriedly crammed the artifact into the box and closed the lid.

Finally wiping his hands of the annoyance, Sleek returned to the grasshopper.

"Good good, those things are the worst! Well, allow me to introduce myself. I am the Librarian. At your service."

"I Sleek. Sleek traveled here because annoying box said there was treasure."

"Oh there is much treasure here. Knowledge beyond your wildest dreams. All of it free!"

Sleek was sure that his wildest dreams would be far beyond anything this bug could offer, but felt it rude to say so. "Free?" he asked the Librarian.

"Free. Of course you do have to have a Library Card to access the information... you do have one don't you?"