Glade 10th, 4623
Within a matter of days, Arkash and his entourage arrived at the sprawling city of iron and rust, Shitport. One by one, they dismounted their steed, then walked with the half gnome that led the hulking lizard by the reins to tie it down outside the city limits. The rest, they walked on foot. Blaring sun rained down on them and burned their feet vicariously through the sand they trod on. Izzy and Bants both panted in the sweltering desert heat, the stink of their sweat rich on the dry winds while Arkash maintained perfect thermoregulation in his true form. Halfway to the gate, he looked up from his thoughts to spy the two over his shoulder, then turned fully around to wait for them as they caught up.
Out of the fire and into the frying pan, the metallic walls of the city did little to help with the overbearingly hot sun. The air itself felt to be ablaze with every draw of dry breath. Even in the shade, their skin cooked.
"We'd best hurry," declared Izzy, near desperate. "We didn't bring all that much water..."
"Speak for yourself," spoke bants, sly. "I brought two skins with me."
Izzy scoffed. "Well, that ain't enough for me; I'm like twice your size."
"Maybe you should try eating less then?" At that, both Arkash and Izzy looked in disbelief at the half-gnome. Bants simply flipped the cap on his waterskin and began to drink away before he wiped the sweat from his brow. "What?"
"Cold as ice," said Arkash before he looked to Izzy, who was still stunned by the quip. "You're really gonna take that?"
"I don't have a choice," declared the woman. "If I chase him, I'm just gonna sweat out faster."
Bants smirked at that, then tossed his spare waterskin her way. "Don't drink it all right away," he warned.
Izzy lazily caught the skin, then knocked it back and opened her mouth.
"The cap," Bants reminded.
"Crap, you're right..." said Izzy, confounded before she undid the cap and began to gulp down the contents of the skin.
"The sun really baked her brain, huh?" Whispered Arkash to the little blue man while Izzy drank.
"Can't bake what's not there," retorted the gnome in a whisper of a similar caliber.
Arkash's eyes widened at that, and he blinked quickly in disbelief. "You're savage, you know that right?"
At that, Bants merely winked before Izzy finished off the waterskin with a deep gasp for air, wiped off her lips and looked between the two, lost. "What are we talking about?" She asked between her quickened breaths.
Before Arkash could speak, bants interjected. "Trying to figure out how we're going to find Overkill here." He shrugged before he gestured to the iron streets. "There's no one here?"
Indeed, the city looked almost deserted, there were just a few corpse-like men lazing about in the shade of the walls. "We'll find a broker somewhere," Arkash assured as they trudged deeper, away from the heat of the outside. The metallic complex was so expansive that the heat of the sun sometimes took time to reach the deeper, more obscured parts. Sure enough, voice began to pollute the air as the sound of a marketplace filled the atmosphere.
Lit with lanterns and maintained by golems, the central square was often where most of the city's vendors congregated. Arkash kept his weary eye on the crowd as he led the other two through to the far end of the plaza, where they regrouped. "Bants," Arkash spoke lowly as he bent down to better speak to the man over the noise of the crowd. "Where do people normally go when they want to know things?"
To that, the smaller man simply shrugged. "I didn't get involved with anything like that when I lived here, I stayed in the shop."
An exasperated sigh left the Rathor's lips before he looked up at Izzy and straightened his legs. "Any ideas?"
The woman wiped the sweat from her brow before she shook her head. "I try to stay clear of this place," she explained. "Too much fighting."
Arkash crossed his arms and leaned against the wall of the market square. "Well then I'm at a loss," he declared. "We know Overkill has ties here, just because that's where we keep running into their goons. Who can we ask for directions to their headquarters? I'm not sure." A glance between the gnome and the human yielded similar expressions to his own: lost and uncertain. Arkash closed his eyes and sighed.
That was when the creep of metallic footsteps beside him caught his sensitive ear. Arkash looked sharply in the direction of the individual and found naught but an impressively large Orkhai of green skin, tusks, and rags. He wore nothing for his chest and abdomen, but opted for brown rags to drape his lower body. Metallic gauntlets and Sabatons guarded his extremities. "Top 'a the mornin'," he said with a courteous bow that let his braided hair fall to the side. "Couldn't help but overhear your ah... Dilema, from the other side of the plaza," he spoke in jest. Arkash grinned a little, sharp eyes still evaluating the Orkhai. "My employer happens to be in the business of ah... Selling... Information, ya see. 'Might be able to help ya out with your ah... Query."
"Might or will?" jumped Izzy. "We're on a busy schedule pal and don't have time to waste."
"Oh my," he said with a raised brow at the human. "I can't say for sure, I'm not permitted to share information with ah... prospective customers," he said with a toothy grin. "I can see you're busy though, I'll let you get back to it," he declared before he turned away.
"Hold on!" Arkash called. "We'll talk to your employer, we have farthings."
To that, the Orkhai grinned and motioned his hand for the three to follow. "Right this way Gents and lady," was all he said before leading them down a darker hall of the steel city.
The smell of decaying meat and waste was strong enough to bring Izzy and Bants to cover their noses as they proceeded deeper into the complex. Rust and dilapidated plating lined the halls they traversed, the scurry of rodents and the distant drip of some unknown piping reminded the Rath of home. Before too long, the three arrived at some shanty-style shack built against one of the walls. The withered structure looked about ready to collapse with so much as a heavy cough in its direction. Nonetheless, the Orkhai lifted the stained fabric drape that covered the entrance, and beckoned the three in. Arkash looked between the other two to gauge their uncertainty before he shrugged and walked forward into the dark of the shack.
Inside was piles of relatively clean bones, scraps of hide and a bucket of human waste with a pile of throws and quilts toward the center, almost arranged to take the shape of a throne. Perched atop it was a sunken skeleton of a man, shallow of breath and scarce of clothing. Wiry white hair came down from his head in a patchy array that followed no distinguishable pattern or order. His deep, blacked eyelids lifted to set his pale grey eyes on the Rathor and his company. "...You" he began, voice as dry as the desert he inhabited. "...I've been ...Anticipating ...You."
"You have?" Quizzed the Rath.
"...I have..." The husk continued. "You seek... Great fortune... Might... Incomparable..."
"Close," said Arkash with something of an amused grin. "We've got plenty of might, we're looking for a group of raiders."
"As I said...!" Returned the Husk. "Might...! Incomparable...!"
Arkash crossed his arms over his chest. "Hardly," with a roll of his eyes. "We seek the clan Overkill. Do you know their whereabouts...? Or maybe someone that can point us in the right direction...?"
The husk smiled to his query, a spotty mouth of scarce teeth and black gums. "...I do..." came his voice, slowly, maliciously.
Within a matter of days, Arkash and his entourage arrived at the sprawling city of iron and rust, Shitport. One by one, they dismounted their steed, then walked with the half gnome that led the hulking lizard by the reins to tie it down outside the city limits. The rest, they walked on foot. Blaring sun rained down on them and burned their feet vicariously through the sand they trod on. Izzy and Bants both panted in the sweltering desert heat, the stink of their sweat rich on the dry winds while Arkash maintained perfect thermoregulation in his true form. Halfway to the gate, he looked up from his thoughts to spy the two over his shoulder, then turned fully around to wait for them as they caught up.
Out of the fire and into the frying pan, the metallic walls of the city did little to help with the overbearingly hot sun. The air itself felt to be ablaze with every draw of dry breath. Even in the shade, their skin cooked.
"We'd best hurry," declared Izzy, near desperate. "We didn't bring all that much water..."
"Speak for yourself," spoke bants, sly. "I brought two skins with me."
Izzy scoffed. "Well, that ain't enough for me; I'm like twice your size."
"Maybe you should try eating less then?" At that, both Arkash and Izzy looked in disbelief at the half-gnome. Bants simply flipped the cap on his waterskin and began to drink away before he wiped the sweat from his brow. "What?"
"Cold as ice," said Arkash before he looked to Izzy, who was still stunned by the quip. "You're really gonna take that?"
"I don't have a choice," declared the woman. "If I chase him, I'm just gonna sweat out faster."
Bants smirked at that, then tossed his spare waterskin her way. "Don't drink it all right away," he warned.
Izzy lazily caught the skin, then knocked it back and opened her mouth.
"The cap," Bants reminded.
"Crap, you're right..." said Izzy, confounded before she undid the cap and began to gulp down the contents of the skin.
"The sun really baked her brain, huh?" Whispered Arkash to the little blue man while Izzy drank.
"Can't bake what's not there," retorted the gnome in a whisper of a similar caliber.
Arkash's eyes widened at that, and he blinked quickly in disbelief. "You're savage, you know that right?"
At that, Bants merely winked before Izzy finished off the waterskin with a deep gasp for air, wiped off her lips and looked between the two, lost. "What are we talking about?" She asked between her quickened breaths.
Before Arkash could speak, bants interjected. "Trying to figure out how we're going to find Overkill here." He shrugged before he gestured to the iron streets. "There's no one here?"
Indeed, the city looked almost deserted, there were just a few corpse-like men lazing about in the shade of the walls. "We'll find a broker somewhere," Arkash assured as they trudged deeper, away from the heat of the outside. The metallic complex was so expansive that the heat of the sun sometimes took time to reach the deeper, more obscured parts. Sure enough, voice began to pollute the air as the sound of a marketplace filled the atmosphere.
Lit with lanterns and maintained by golems, the central square was often where most of the city's vendors congregated. Arkash kept his weary eye on the crowd as he led the other two through to the far end of the plaza, where they regrouped. "Bants," Arkash spoke lowly as he bent down to better speak to the man over the noise of the crowd. "Where do people normally go when they want to know things?"
To that, the smaller man simply shrugged. "I didn't get involved with anything like that when I lived here, I stayed in the shop."
An exasperated sigh left the Rathor's lips before he looked up at Izzy and straightened his legs. "Any ideas?"
The woman wiped the sweat from her brow before she shook her head. "I try to stay clear of this place," she explained. "Too much fighting."
Arkash crossed his arms and leaned against the wall of the market square. "Well then I'm at a loss," he declared. "We know Overkill has ties here, just because that's where we keep running into their goons. Who can we ask for directions to their headquarters? I'm not sure." A glance between the gnome and the human yielded similar expressions to his own: lost and uncertain. Arkash closed his eyes and sighed.
That was when the creep of metallic footsteps beside him caught his sensitive ear. Arkash looked sharply in the direction of the individual and found naught but an impressively large Orkhai of green skin, tusks, and rags. He wore nothing for his chest and abdomen, but opted for brown rags to drape his lower body. Metallic gauntlets and Sabatons guarded his extremities. "Top 'a the mornin'," he said with a courteous bow that let his braided hair fall to the side. "Couldn't help but overhear your ah... Dilema, from the other side of the plaza," he spoke in jest. Arkash grinned a little, sharp eyes still evaluating the Orkhai. "My employer happens to be in the business of ah... Selling... Information, ya see. 'Might be able to help ya out with your ah... Query."
"Might or will?" jumped Izzy. "We're on a busy schedule pal and don't have time to waste."
"Oh my," he said with a raised brow at the human. "I can't say for sure, I'm not permitted to share information with ah... prospective customers," he said with a toothy grin. "I can see you're busy though, I'll let you get back to it," he declared before he turned away.
"Hold on!" Arkash called. "We'll talk to your employer, we have farthings."
To that, the Orkhai grinned and motioned his hand for the three to follow. "Right this way Gents and lady," was all he said before leading them down a darker hall of the steel city.
The smell of decaying meat and waste was strong enough to bring Izzy and Bants to cover their noses as they proceeded deeper into the complex. Rust and dilapidated plating lined the halls they traversed, the scurry of rodents and the distant drip of some unknown piping reminded the Rath of home. Before too long, the three arrived at some shanty-style shack built against one of the walls. The withered structure looked about ready to collapse with so much as a heavy cough in its direction. Nonetheless, the Orkhai lifted the stained fabric drape that covered the entrance, and beckoned the three in. Arkash looked between the other two to gauge their uncertainty before he shrugged and walked forward into the dark of the shack.
Inside was piles of relatively clean bones, scraps of hide and a bucket of human waste with a pile of throws and quilts toward the center, almost arranged to take the shape of a throne. Perched atop it was a sunken skeleton of a man, shallow of breath and scarce of clothing. Wiry white hair came down from his head in a patchy array that followed no distinguishable pattern or order. His deep, blacked eyelids lifted to set his pale grey eyes on the Rathor and his company. "...You" he began, voice as dry as the desert he inhabited. "...I've been ...Anticipating ...You."
"You have?" Quizzed the Rath.
"...I have..." The husk continued. "You seek... Great fortune... Might... Incomparable..."
"Close," said Arkash with something of an amused grin. "We've got plenty of might, we're looking for a group of raiders."
"As I said...!" Returned the Husk. "Might...! Incomparable...!"
Arkash crossed his arms over his chest. "Hardly," with a roll of his eyes. "We seek the clan Overkill. Do you know their whereabouts...? Or maybe someone that can point us in the right direction...?"
The husk smiled to his query, a spotty mouth of scarce teeth and black gums. "...I do..." came his voice, slowly, maliciously.
Image source.
