Registration is closed. Except for those of you are currently in pending, no more sending me posts, unless you really think you've come up with a great character, then go ahead and PM me and I'll think about it.

Alright, I'm going to try something different this time. Instead if making a storyline and trying to make the RP follow it, I'm just going to give the blandest rules for a world and see where this breeze blows. PM me your character (Use a character sheet if you must, though be sure to include an opening post with it. Otherwise just describe your character in your opening post) so I can check for any discrepancies. (Don't sweat it on this guys, Like I said, the rules are going to be pretty open, I'm just going to filter people with horribly bad grammar and god-mode characters and such)

*Setting*

The world is a mix of fantasy and sci-fi (Yeah, think 'Phantasy Star,' to an extent). One day several thousand years ago, a space-ship from another planet crash landed into Varia, a medieval world where magic rules. Not having the technology to fix their ship, the otherworlders established themselves in a fairly uninhabited forest at the north of the continent, building a fortress of sorts. Since then, their technology has slowly spread throughout the world, intermixing with magic, creating the backdrop for our story. (I did say "blandest" didn't I?)

Basically, you have nearly full creative license when making your characters. Just a few rules, though. If you are a technological character, then make sure you don't have anything too powerful (Lasers and plasma pistols are okay, but no rocket launchers or tanks, though you can go ahead and make a buggy or some sort of vehicle for your character if you want. Just be prepared to lose it if the story eventually calls for it). Same for magic characters. Fireballs and shields are a must to even the odds with techno guys, but no mind-control, or doomsday spells, please.

We will begin in the city of Glefargis, a temperate harbor-town located on the west-southwestern tip of the continent. It has become a melting pot of sorts, seeing all races (Yeah, be a dwarf, or an elf, or anything you want, within the limits of reason) there at some point or another. Architecture, then, varies from the simple wooden shacks of the poor to the magically carved mansions of the elves to the steel-plate towers of humans and dwarves. You can start out anywhere in the world, really, but RP's tend to be boring without a little character-interaction.

*******

Sarrisan walked down the street of Green Glass Avenue, vacantly observing the pristine white buildings with their tall, shining green windows, breathing the fresh and cool morning air. He wasn't really seeing the fine elven craftsmanship, though. He was just enjoying the beginning of the day, something more people should get the hang of doing more often. He wasn't a young man, but he could move with the best of them, as proved by the flowing way his titanium power sword moved at his hip, or the smooth way he walked, not showing the usual difficulties of age at all. More then a few fools in this city had taken the sight of his knotted white hair and wrinkles on his face and decided to try their luck. They would not be trying again.

He turned at an intersection and found himself facing Lake Aidaur, his destination. Fenced off and lined with beautiful tree's, it was one of the elves proudest creations, the water itself having magical properties to it, making it forever clear and pristine. He stepped up to the perfect water and looked at his reflection. His silver revolver, sitting on the opposite hip as his sword, didn't look its years, though it was truly ancient. He even had to craft his own bullets for this thing, though he wouldn't give it up for the world. His clothes were typical for his race, humans, a clean, black suit with a black shirt beneath. His hair was pulled back into a knot behind his head, pure white, though not from age. His face was thin and angular, with high check-bones, and his gray eyes glinted in turn with his lips as they smiled their usual grin. He had more then a few wrinkles, most of them merry ones. Finally, he turned and sat down beneath a fig tree, leaning back on his elbows and letting his eyes drift closed.

Elias sat at the bar, listening to the gentle piano music. Shortly after draining his glass, he placed his glass down. "Hey barkeep, gimme somethin' stronger! Don't care what, just make sure its cheap," he said, glaring down the bartender. Elias had too drink cheap these days, money was getting tight. He was a wandering gunman, doing whatever odd-jobs came up for money. "Damn these Glefargians...cheap ass bastards. Nobody'll even pay me to watch their damn kids," he thought to himself. He ran his hand through his long silver hair, turned such by an unfortunate magus a few months back. He was sitting at a bar near some lake or another, he'd forgotten the name.

Looking over at the bartender, he noticed that he wasn't being heeded at all. "Fine, I get the message," he said. "Damn elves," he thought, "just because I'm a human they show me no friggin' respect..." Checking his wallet, he noticed that he was, in all respects, poor as dirt. It had been a full two weeks since he had any real work. "Guess its time to get some work. I'm sure somebody around here ain't as cheap as everybody else...must have SOME kind of job for me." He left enough money to cover his tab and got up from his stool. His flak jacket made a slight noise as he stood, his pants(a pair of camouflaged shorts.) dropped down just past his knees. Grabbing his gun, an old semi-auto laser rifle, from against the bar, he started towards the door.

Cycladese was a Hopolite - a heavy infantryman. In one hand, he bore a long spear with a iron tip and in the other, he brandished a shield that sported numerous decorative engravings and glittering gems. A billowing jade-coloured cape hung from his shoulders upto his leather-shod feet, while a glistening breastplate of steel was strapped tightly to his chest. He wore a metal skirt around his waist. A sheathed Gladius dangled precariously from his hip. Cycladese was heavily built, and had only a smattering of facial hair on his chin and above his lips. His hair was dark and curly, and his complexion fair.

((Imagine a Spartan, basically))

He ambled down the avenue, spear slung across his back. The pedestrians would often veer and give him queer looks, but Cycladese did not care. He disliked the Elven City and its towering marble edifices. He prefered the stone hovels of his own township to the brilliant white plazas and palaces of Green Grass Avenue. He was many miles from home, but the fire in his sinews had not yet been doused. A long scar ran along the length of his arm, a faded souvenir from a war that was now mere antiquity. His eyes looked like painted glass - they remained dull and emotionless - as he walked along the cobbled thoroughfare. He saw a man reposing beneath the far reaching boughs of a giant fig tree (After all, the plant drew its nutrition and water from the enchanted lake and was blessed with preternatural robustness).

"Figs are deemed sacred in my land." said Cycladese, trying to initiate a conversation. "But even there, with wanton care and provisioning, they do not grow to such monstrous proportions."

He smacked the rugged bark of the tree with his palm, as though demonstrating the sturdiness of its trunk.

(((Eh, X-king, you're really supposed to PM me for confirmation first, but I'm gonna let this pass because your grammar is fine and your character looks good. Welcome.)))

Sarrisan let an eye flit open and focused it on the hulk of a man above him. His clothes were strange - Sarrisan had never quite seen their like before - but the armor looked well made for speed and protection, and the man himself looked as if he could use the spear on his back. That was enough for Sarrisan, and he appraised his hands' position in relation to his weapons. The man did not look antagonistic, but few men survived long in this world without being a little wary of free-talking strangers.

He opened his other eye and let his typical grin grow into a friendly smile, "Then I presume your people are not too familiar with the careful arts of nature magic," he replied in a jovial voice, to take any presumed sting away from his words. He himself had dabbled a bit those same arts, though not to very successful ends. That had been the day he'd learned the value of a good, solid gun. "The elves are quite the masters at it, themselves," He continued. "They seem to have a natural talent for it, more then other species. This lake, and presumably the trees around it, are cared for night and day with it's gentle touch."

((Apologies!))

"Fascinating." lied Cycladese, running his partially callused hands along the Fig bark. A thousand little grooves and cracks ran through every inch of the tree's impenetrable rind, sheltering entire populations of aphids and ants. "I myself have never seen a culture so deeply entwined with its arcane arts."

The last two words of his sentence simply dripped with condecension. He glanced at the silver revolver that was suspended from the man's belt, and then at the titanium blade. Rather impressive armaments he thought to himself.
Cycladese's face broke into a smile. After a lengthy spell of dull inactivity, his eyes suddenly livened and sparkled in the sun. His cheeks flopped up and down as he spoke:

"I see that you too are a practitioner of the combative sciences." he stated, pointing at the pair of impressive weapons that hung from the man's sides.
"I am Cycladese."

Dashal woke up with a start. He had been leaning against a tree near Lake Aidaur, watching a group of children play amongst themselves, and apparently had dozed off. He found himself now lying down beside the roots of the trees. Brushing off his shirt as he got up, he noticed an older looking man just on the other side of the tree drifting off into his dreams.

Dashal sighed quietly and headed for the lake, hoping to drink some water out of it. He had heard people carried water in bottles or capsules, for quick drinking, but he was never cut out for even adequate technology. "Never liked it, probably never will." he thought to himself. Absorbed in his thoughts, Dashal hadn't realized he had gotten so close to the lake, and almost walked right in. He stopped abrubtly and knelt down, cupping his hands underneath the water. As he brought his hands near his face, some of the water spilled out onto his light brown shirt, and trailed down to his plain, brown pants. He was a simple man, wore just the barest clothing he needed, save his elven mother's golden cloak, and used his magic to aid him with nearly everything he did.

The cloak itself stood out, in any crowd and on any person, but moreso did it stick out on him. His clothing was barely of a peasant to wear, and yet he had a cloak woven out of pure gold cloth that had a silver insignia in the middle, that of his ancient families magic.

Before he lost himself in thoughts again, he took a gulp of the water in his hands, wiped his mouth, and started off again in search of people who needed his help.

Sarrisan just barely kept his eyebrow from lifting. The man was in a largely elven district of town, yet he clearly disdained the arcane arts and then only gave his name when he realized Sarrisan was able to fight? An interesting person, indeed, if a bit strange. Raising slowly, as if he couldn't move any faster, Sarrisan stood with his back straight and faced his new, well, friend, and extended his hand. "Then it seems that we have a common hobby. My name is Sarrisan." There was no reason not to be polite.

But he still kept his left hand near his sword.

Baek gulped a bit of his cantine, wiping a bit of the beer off his pointy green nose.

"Nothing better for a goblin than a cold one on a hot day," He muttered to himself, "Glad the the last customer had a knack for ice."

His last customer happened too be a frost mage, all too willing to deep freeze his cantine a bit for a discount. He tilted his head down for a moment, checking his attire for any spills. Baek had desperately challenged himself to stay top of the line in the fashion influenced by the ones that fell from the sky, consequently leaving him painfully unorthodox compared to most of the middle to low class. He wore what humorously had a stark resemblance to a zoot suit, minus a hat. The tailor didn't have the heart to tell Baek that clothing became unpopular among the skyfallen centuries ago. In the habit of merchants, Baek quickly focused his attention on the cloth mat laid before him, eying to see if all his accounted goods were still there, save for one. He turned his eyes to a young elvish woman, examining a necklace Baek had up for sale with gleeful eyes. A young Elvish man, not too far from Baek, tapped his foot nervously. His eyes that were fixed on the Elvish woman for quite some time, turned away as he knelt down to Baek's puny Goblin stature (The tip of a typical goblin's head would barely make it somewhere between a grown human's thighs and hips). Before he could utter a word to Baek, the goblin's merchant wit had him shoot a comment first.

"The lass seems to like that piece right there. Can't blame her, now can we? Gorgeous thing, made me forget where I got it a day after I nabbed it. If you want in bed with 'er you'd buy it."
The Elvish man snapped his head back, his cheeks turning to embers. His voice quivered.
"N-no, no. I would never-, I mean. Just, it's just a gift you see. Her birthday is coming up. An elf w-would know better my friend."
His voice was a bit louder than he intended it to be. The elvish girl turned to look at him affectionately, still holding tightly to the necklace.
Baek kept a wide smile, the poor elf's face was priceless.
"How much.."
Baek clapped the man's knee, stood up, and got a bit close to his ears, whispering. The elvish man's face turned pale.
"No.... Please.. its a fascinating necklace in all it's worth, but can't you make it a bit cheaper?" He quietly pleaded.
"No can do my pointy eared friend. It's either that much or a heartbroken girlfriend."

Moments later, Baek was shaking his left hand with the delighted elvish girl, who was furiously shaking with both hands as the necklace jingled around her neck, slightly causing Baek's now fat pocket of money to join in as well. The right hand shook with the elvish man, who was stuck between a boundary of happiness and financial despair. The comical moment was broken (At least to Baek's thinking) when a clattering of trinkets and curios were heard behind Baek, where his mat of goods was. Baek had made the beginner's mistake of turning his eye off his merchandise for far too long. A skinny, unshaven man covered in a cloak of rags held his goods all bundled and wrapped in the mat. After a few seconds of awkward silence between the four people, the man bolted off to the direction of the intersection to Green Glass avenue. Baek whipped his hands away from the two elves and darted after the thief. Though Baek was fairly fit and skinny for a goblin, his height kept him at a disadvantage.

"Stop! Come back here you sad shit of a thief!" Baek screamed at the man.
He checked to see if his rapier was still attached to his belt, and sent his other hand down his suit, reaching for the silenced las pistol, only to hesitantly stop. He didn't want to risk shooting his goods. Baek had set his shop by a side of Lake Aiduar, so the chase had the two running by the coastline of the lake, passing by many trees. The thief was facing an opening view to a fig tree. A few men we're around it, going about on their business. He intended to hop over the fence farther down and disappear into the crowds of Green Glass avenue. Baek was desperate to the brink of tears.

"One of you, any of you, stop that damn thief!"

Rifle slung over his back, Elias started down the coastline of the lake. He took in the sites around him as he walked. There was a man getting up from under a tree, looked as though he had just awoken from a nap. Children were milling about near him. "Kids...never much cared for MY childhood," he thought too himself. His childhood wasn't exactly a happy one... Parents wanting to keep him out of the world. One day, he simply ran. He hadn't stopped yet.

Snapping his head away from the scene, he noticed two men standing under a fig tree, talking about something. They were both armed, that much was for sure, so they probably wouldn't need his help. One of them was a giant of a man, adorned in enough armour to scare off any brigand. The other man was much smaller than the first, but Elias could spy a well-used blade by his side. "Nice blade."

Looking around a bit more, Elias noticed something strange. There was a man, dressed in rags, running down the coastline. Behind him was a small Goblin, dressed in some ancient garb or another. "One of you, any of you, stop that damn thief!" he heard the Goblin yell. "Heh, doin' things this way ain't my style, but who knows. Nothin' better to do with my time. There may even be reward money in it for me."

Elias knelt down to a single knee and pulled his rifle over his shoulder and into his hands in a single, deft motion. He slowly pulled the weapons scope over to the man running, and then just a bit ahead of the man adorned in rags. "Can't kill him...don't know whose right and whose wrong, here." Taking this into account, he lowered his sights a bit and let off a single crack, sending a bolt of energy sailing into the mans lower-right leg.

"This is it.." The thief thought to himself in a glimmer of hope ," Once I get these valuables sold off, I'll finally be rid of those moneylenders! Free at la-"
The hope was short lived, as the pressure of the traveling round and the surging laser heat from it tackled the poor man's right leg, tripping him and digging his face onto the floor. Holding back the much needed scream of agony bottled up in him, the thief desperately balanced himself to a limping stand, holding his fists in a peculiar manner. Baek caught up, stopping out of slight confusion in front of the man's fighting stance.

"I warn you goblin. I may be a thief, but I've been trained in the formidable martial arts of-" A puncturing sound was heard, followed by a sharp stinging pain in his right foot. "Gods preserve me!" The man fell to the floor like a rag doll, letting out the said bottled up scream. Baek blew off a slight stream of smoke from the silencer attachment on his pistol. "There is fresh livestock tissue in that bullet. Diagnosed with Cholera if I recall. Might want to hurry to a doctor." Baek considered that one of his less creative bluff's, but in the brew of adrenaline and fear the man took it as reality. Using what strength he had left, he brought himself up and began limping away in a hurry, wailing like a wraith the whole way, oblivious to the startled passerby. He apparently forgot about the bag, which lay a foot or two away from where he fell. Spinning his pistol in an impressive fashion, the sweaty Goblin slid the pistol back into his suit, picked up the sack, and turned to the marksman. "My good man, you just saved a months worth of bartering and bidding."

"Got to have a good word follow my name.." Baek muttered to himself, regrettably thinking the man would expect a sort of reward. Besides, if luck shined upon him, Baek could kill two birds with one stone. He dusted off his pants, politely snatched the man's hand, and placed some money in it.
"I go by Baek Revilgaz. Hope this is enough for your troubles." Patting the man on the knee, Baek opened his bag to check up on his goods, faking a conversation with himself. He had been eying the men around him in the past moments, feeling a different flavor of hardboiled mercenary in each of them. His purposely loud voice began.

"Made a satisfying amount of dough in this Elf convention. Shame, might head out to another spot to get a bit more variety in my trade and sell, but bandits have been a real pain in the ass lately, eh? Barely scraped away from a group of dune bandits on my last trip. Who knows, you might as well tag along with some traveler for paid protection, Baek."

((Oh darn, Fieren Already posted))

Cycladese snarled like a wolf; His lips twisted into an angry frown and the blunted ends of his unusually long and fearsome canines gleamed in the Elven Sun. He swiftly drew his spear from the bundle of fur-wrappings that clung to broad shoulders. The jade cape swayed gracefully in the wind. His muscles rippled.

The bolt of energy had struck the ragged-pauper squarely in the knee, and he stumbled onto the pavement with a cry of pain.

'Nice shot', he thought to himself, while eying the gunner. 'He's been neutralised'

Cycladese took on a throwing stance, lifting his longish pole-arm upto eye-level and spreading his legs wide. He squeezed down on the black shaft of the spear, and suddenly, the obsidian spearhead began to glow blue and crackle. A massive amount of energy was slowly accruing in the aciculate tip of the Hopolite's weapon - at maximum capacity, the doru could deliver a payload of 2500 Volts, current enough to kill a fully grown man within seconds.

"Pilferer! Cease this flight!" he commanded in a low voice. "Lest ye wish to be electrocuted.. or worse."

EDIT:-

Then, abruptly, he saw the scantily clad man fall under the bullet of a shiftly goblin. Then he saw the tramp rise again and limp away, whining, to an adjoining street. He looked back at the smooth-talking creature who was responsible for the sudden balking of this chase. Slowly, the obsidian glow faded as Cycladese eased his grip on the spear.

The words 'paid' and 'protection' piqued Cycladese's interest. He decided to enquire further.

"What manner of payment do you speak of?" queried the young Hopolite, arcing his eyebrow slightly as he planted his spear firmly in the soil.

(Ugh, you're all so much better than me! Oh well, I'll try my best.)

Rounding the lake, Dashal happened to noticed a scraggly looking man making his way quite quickly toward him, a bag of what looked like trinkets in his hands. Knowing well enough to avoid this man should he come any closer, Dashal stepped aside and gave the man plenty of room to pass, but his kind deed was apparently short lived. A gunshot was heard, and the man suddenly tripped, and before Dashal was aware anything had happened, another gunshot sent the scraggly looking man limping away in fear and pain. "Odd...this seemed like such a peaceful place not five minutes ago... he thought to himself.

Ignoring the whole thing, Dashal continued on, heading for the town's center to look for some work. On his way, he happened to pass three men and caught only a few words of the conversation they were having, but the words interested him great enough for him to stop and ask. "Excuse me, but did I happen to hear you say 'paid protection' just now?"

(Hey Marineking, sorry again, but I still can't find a place for the facial details. I hope you don't mind if I just write them straight out in my next post.)

((It's okay man, facial details aren't all that important anyway; they're just there for flavor. You can forget them entirely if you find it too troublesome. Also, I think we have enough people now, so I'm officially closing registration.))

At the sound of the gunshot - though it was more of an energy blast, a part of his mind thought vaguely - Sarrisan's sword was in his right hand, pinky depressing the small, almost invisible button that started the battery in the hilt. One press gave quarter power, which was the default he had it set for, and for now he kept it at that, letting the blade have it's nearly imperceptible glow of heat. Almost simultaneously, his shining, silver revolver was cocked and ready in his left hand (Technically, he was a righty, but he'd trained his left hand specifically for marksmanship).

Dropping into a fighting crouch, he scanned both directions quickly and his eyes caught the stumbling movement of the thief, and watched as he turned on the goblin whom, Sarrisan assumed, the goods belonged to. With a quick glance at his new aquatence ((I'll be damned if I can find the right spelling for this word!)), he decided that getting involved would be... overkill, to say the least. Suddenly, the man dropped with a shout, turning the whole situation null.

A confrontation begun with a shout, ended with a shout, and only a few moments had passed. Sarrisan stood up straight with a sigh, keeping his gun out but de-powering his sword and sheathing it, savoring the familiar sounds of the heat simmering as it left the blade and slid into the humbly worked leather scabbard. As his big friend's muscles visibly relaxed - and you would have to be blind to not see those things move - he began speaking, "well, nothing like a sudden gunshot to wake you up in the mor-" but he cut off as he caught the words he was sure everyone else on the street was hearing; money and work. Two things that were fairly low to most rogues like Sarrisan in these civilized days.

Suddenly a man Sarrisan had glimpsed earlier came to a halt in front of them, asking the question Sarrisan had expected, though not from one such as he. Well, as he was learning today, they came in all shapes and... sizes. Letting his grin return to his face, he addressed them both as he began walking, "Lets just go see, shall we?"

((Sorry for all the OOC, but I just want give x_king a little warning; that won't be the last jibe I'll be taking at your character. :p ))

((LOL at Marineking. Anyway, I was bored and had a wallop of free time on my hands so I decided to write a little on Cycladese's history. Hope nobody has any qualms about this. The following has no bearing on the current plot, so you can skip this post if you like.))

10 years before:

Cycladese stood upon the edge of the rolling wheat field. The long, golden stalks rocked gently from side to side in the breeze. The airflows came at regular intervals, soothing his exhausted limbs and muscles. Pristine, grassy hillocks rose from the swirling mist in the distance. The sky took on an extraordinarily light shade of blue about the ridges; a girdle of faded turquoise fringed each hill. The muffled chirrupings of baby sparrows could be heard emanating from the leafy boughs of a nearby Elm tree.

In these soundless spaces, Cycladese could dwelve into a world of his own thoughts, notions, delusions and imaginings. His eyebrows and forehead were contorted into a look that signalled intense rumination. But this bout of contemplative peace was short-lived.

Suddenly, the cascading sounds of laser blasts rent the air, and furious warcries came in short spurts with the East wind. Battlalions of black-uniform clad man streamed down the encircling acclivities in little dark rivulets. They numbered in the thousands - an army equipped with advanced technology and superior military organization - one that could decimate his Father's little warband in a matter of seconds.

"To the End." declared his Father in an ominously somber tone, as he raised his red shield and crackling spear. The legendary Jade Champion.
"To the End!" roared the troops gathered abaft him. A wave of approbation followed. They banged the raw solidified energy of their shields against the metal of their coruscating spears, producing a fierce clamour that must've terrified the Barbarians from beyond the hills. The cacophony was terminated with the glorious bellow of a conch-shell, and like a typhoon, the Hopolites burst upon the foe.

It was the last war they ever fought.

Baek tightened the string bagging the mat, and threw it over his shoulder. He decided to raise volume, already assuming the men coming from the tree heard his earlier words. His voice brought on a slightly arrogant tone as he began winging the words that would hopefully be leading to a bigger wallet.
"A traveling merchant like yours truly is not bound to anywhere. The dune bandits to the east brought me here with my wallet between my green ass cheeks. I'll be honest with you fine gentlemen, and consider it to your advantage." He paused to build a sort of dramatic effect. An often used tactic for one who must mingle on a daily basis for a living.

"I can smell it in you lot, and being armed to the teeth makes it only more obvious and beneficial to me. It's safe to say none of you have any obligations to this fine elven city and are free as birds. By all means, discuss amongst yourselves. I have a fairly large dune buggy I managed to swipe under my own accord. A perfect fit, seeing as how it sports four seats and a marksman mount (A raised platform behind the four seats, with a small retractable stool for a machine gun mount or gunner to take seat). Discuss amongst yourselves the proposition I will clarify for you now. Including these goods I have right now, I have some fairly valuable..... crates." Somewhere along his neck, a sweat drop dripped down Baek's neck. "Yes, crates. Anyways, I am acquainted with merchants and buyers in every nook and cranny you can think of my friends. Quite a sum of my sales share is in for you when we make it. If you would cut any loose ends you have in this place, and help take me across the dunes to a certain city... A hodge podge of trade there if I recall...." Baek looked to the approaching man with white, knotted hair. To Baek's thinking, if one has many winters under their belt and still possesses a weapon, they know their way around. "What was that lone city beyond the dunes? Is it even across desert county, or still located in it? Blast this poor memory.."

((MK, if you would like to continue something in this city, sorry for dragging it this far D=, but I can't seem to think of anything else. I'm whipping it in so you, the creator, can blow the wind for our next direction, and that this character can adapt to whatever situation.))

Sarrisan's grin widened as he approached the goblin, adding more wrinkles to his cheeks. At roughly sixty years old, he was still only middle aged, but he had a tendency to smile a lot, and so he had accumulated a small collection of wrinkles over the years. He wasn't entirely familiar with how goblins aged, but he could see that this one was old enough to become a very shrewd man indeed. Of course, few merchants survived long at their trades without being shrewd to a certain extent.

He stopped one step in front of the loose circle that was gathering around the merchant, standing at his straightest a good half-a-head taller then most in the crowd, except perhaps Cycladese, whom he assumed was behind him. Caressing his sword hilt lovingly with his left hand, he looked the goblin straight in the eye, and began, "I believe the town you are referring to is Flession, to the south-east. It is indeed located in the desert, at it's magnetic center, as a matter of fact, on the only solid surface that can be found in the desert's entire radius. It is good indeed that you have that vehicle of yours, anyone trying to cross that monster of sand on foot is unlikely to survive."

There, first test passed, or so he hoped. Merchants looking for bodyguards liked those who knew the terrain, and Sarrisan surely did. Ten years had passed since he had last been in Flession, but he remembered the hard but unbelievably prosperous town and it's surroundings clearly. He turned slightly and waved vaguely behind him, "My friends and I were planning on heading that direction ourselves, coincidentally. It could be.. profitable to travel together." He would have rather have stated he was offering their services straight out, but he didn't know this man yet, and most merchants liked shifty talk. It suited their natures.

((There, hows that? x_king and Deselin, I kinda included you both in my character's "proposition," since I figured thats what you would have wanted, but feel free to prove me wrong if you like.))

Elias glared at the aged man standing near him. He had pocketed his reward from Baek, and was waiting to listen to what the others would do. If they were too decline the offer from the Goblin, Elias would as well. The desert was vast, and a single merchant and gunner wouldn't stand a chance against the bandits, much less the elements.

When the aged warrior had finished talking, Elias decided it was his turn to reply. "So, yer' sayin' we're to cross a monstrous desert, fighting man, beast, and god knows what else? All so you can peddle your wares?" he said with a slight sneer. "Alright, I'm in. Just leave the mount for me." He patted the man next too him, and asked a question, "These boys with you? If so, I hope ya' don't mind if I fall in." After his words, lost himself in thought for a time. "That buggy'll make things easier... And if I can get into that mount, I'm gold." Elias thought to himself.

While waiting for further talk amongst the others, he gazed at the largest man, the one with the spear. He knew of these men, ferocious warriors. The best of the best, as he recalled. "I think I'll stay out of his way, for now." He had a chance to witness their ferocity firsthand, and he would have sooner forgotten the day he saw them than ever see one again. "It's been years. Didn't think there were any of them left."

((Sorry, I had to throw in some to spice up my characters background a wee bit. x_king, just let me know if you'd like me too retract that. It may cause complications with our character's interaction.))

(No problem Marineking, it was my plan to accept anyways.)

Dashal merely watched the tiny goblin speak, but he dared not utter a word. He knew that things would work themselves out for him, and if it ever came to it, all he had to do was say yes. The thought was unnecessary, though, for an older man had butted into the conversation and dragged Dashal in anyways. Being a shy type of person, Dashal decided to let the matter drop, although it didn't bother him in the least.

One thing did, though, and that was what these men thought of him. He was younger than all of them, around his mid-twenties, and had a very young face; almost child-like, and his eyes seemed full of innocence. His black hair was in a cropped style, choppy as well, for he had done the cutting himself, but it seemed to work on him. Most of all, he carried no weapon at all, only his magic. Did they even know he had magic? And even if they did, how would his magic compare to guns?

It concerned him, but he figured that things would eventually work out for him in the end. They always did, and it seemed to be that he was extremely lucky. Ever since he was born, he had been like that, making his way out of near impossible situations, and all without ever lifting a finger. As though the Gods favored and spoiled him. He would soon have to learn to live on his own, however, and what better time than now?

(All I've got goin' for me at the moment, and look! I finally added some detail to my character. XD)

((No problem Lefos, Marineking. Great RP everybody.))

"Flession." Cycladese repeated, allowing the name to roll about in his mouth. He wasn't familiar with the place - but he had trekked through harsh and unforgiving wastelands on more than one occassion (and wasn't even paid for his labours!). 'All arid plains and shifting dunes are of a common nature. Seen one, and you've seen em all.' he thought, lowering his brown eyes to stare blankly at the goblin's crooked toes.
Cycladese desired two things above all: glory and wealth. Perhaps the latter was a more recent addition to his childhood ethos, but he had no land to fight for, no lineage to uphold, no family to protect, so he reasoned that the only (sensible ) thing left for him to fight for was money - pure material gain.

The promise of adventure and consequent renumeration was alluring, but the prospect of serving as an underling to an unscrupulous and grasping Goblin Merchant was not an altogether happy thought for the Hopolite. But he had gone two years without a decent fight, and now the call of battle rung in his ears. Was he going to blithely throw this golden opportunity away, and return to a life of stolid inactivity and aimless wandering?

Nay, he told himself, the reward is enticing and the path laden with great adventure. I'd be a fool to turn down such a chance-offering.

"Append my name to your list of protectors." he proclaimed suddenly, in a voice that was both grave and deep, "I march beside ye."

Eyes turned to meet his, and he added, "My name is Cycladese, son of Thuclidyes, of the House of Markos. I am honoured to be in the company of such valiant and lusty soldiers."

This was the standard addressal every Hopolite was expected to make before partaking in any quest or military venture. His eyes wheeled through the band of mercenaries that formed a loose circle around him, noting down their perceived strengths and peculiarities.

He placed the long volt-spear safely back into its bear-fur wrappings and smiled genially.

At the time, Cycladese hardly realised the sheer gravity of the matter he was getting himself into. The sands encircling Flession were infested by all-manner of subbteranean, worm-like scum that preyed upon men and creatures of the dune - Not to mention the over-abundance of gun-totting vagabonds and lizard-eating barbarians who frequented its sand-drifts.

Him and his soon-to-be compatriates were in for quite an adventure.

'Perfect.' Baek thought to himself.'The less they think of me, the easier it is to get those damn crates across in one piece. A sadist of a bastard he is... That pay can put me in the good life for a few years, but what's in those crates that you can't tell me? I'm the damned deliverer! If it weren't for the identification hex, I'd have hacked them open to take a look. Damn. Damn!'

"Perfect, perfect. Quite the motley crew we have here. My wallet tells me this will be something to remember." He gazed up to the now soaring sun, pouring a beautiful summer light into the city. "I'd usually wait a day for a trip like this, but it'd be a knife in the dark to pass a nice morning like this. Take an hour to pack anything you'd like, gentlemen. I'll provide for the bulk of our food, fuel, and such, but you're on your own for those sweet and sour confectioneries you fancied as a toddler." He started backing away towards Green Glass Avenue, still facing the circle of men. "I'll take this time to pack everything. If you'd be so kind to be on time by the the East Gate. Take a stroll down Maple Boulevard and you can't miss the vehicle lot by it."

He turned, but took back his head to add a few more words. He had a thing for leaving the iffy deals for last. "I'm not one to scare, but I'm sure you've all heard bed time stories of the dunes. Hell personified, the bowl of worms, caravan cruncher. Call it what you will, we're burning a damn fine track through it. I have a good opinion of all of you, but if you would like to leave, it can't be blamed. There would be no need to show up at the gate if you would choose to do so." He turned his head, and began towards Green Glass Avenue, his green skin and odd suit disappearing into the crowd.

Well, that ensured he would be eating next month. He was not much of a hunter, and disliked having to foraging in fields when money was low. Besides, it had been a long time since Sarrisan had ridden in one of those buggies, and he would be lying if he said he wasn't anticipating it just a little. He was, after all, only middle aged. He still had a bit of the hot blood of youth left coursing through his veins.

He turned to his new companions with a smile still visible on his face, "The day started out so peaceful," he said jovially, "And now we're off to face dune-worms and desert bandits. Sounds like fun, does it not? You do not see such work very often nowadays, and Flession is jewel of a place, in all reality. I have some few objects which I treasure somewhat back at my inn, so I shall see you both at the meeting point. Farewell!" And he turned and began walking down the street.

He made sure to keep his hands at the ready, if inconspicuous. There were many other free-lancers on the street, and not all of them seem to have dismissed the situation yet. He was not about to be jumped by a gang of these fools and be late for the job. It did not even cross his mind that he was in true physical danger; he had gotten to the point where he did not recognize most mortals as a threat. Some called it arrogance, but whenever he chose to think it about it, he liked to think it was simply confidence, if at an extreme level.

Dashal merely walked away after the goblin had left, ignoring his new companions. He had nothing he really treasured, save the cloak on his back. In fact, he had barely any possessions at all. All that was on him was what he owned, and that was fine enough for him. He had nothing to fetch, so he decided to stroll the streets for a while, until it was time to leave.

Lost in his thoughts once again, he mindlessly stumbled into the market district, where hundreds of stalls stood with merchants all waiting to empty your pockets. Dahsal walked in between some of the stalls and saw plenty of things: worthless trinkets, weapons of many kinds, exotic and rare foods, even an iron battlestaff, which he stopped and longed over for quite some time. He had trained in the use of a bamboo staff at one point, but it didn't matter, he had no idea if he could even use the thing, much less have enough money to buy it, so he continued walking before the merchant noticed him.

Seeing that he had nothing left to do, Dashal headed towards the eastern part of town, ready to leave, but was intercepted by a pickpocket. The man ran by him and, very carelessly, stole the small pouch hanging from Dashal's waist. Before he got far, Dashal had already condensed some of the air in front of the man, and he ran face first into an invisible wall. Dashal casually walked over, took his pouch back, and continued to the East Gate.

There wasn't anything Elias truly needed that he didn't already have. Even still, he ended up back in his hotel room. "Where he hell did I put the damn thing? Why the hell do I want it, anyways? Nothin' but bad memories on it..." Elias continued to search about his room for sometime before finding what he had hidden. The original plan was to leave the thing here, let it be another's problem, but circumstances wouldn't permit that. It was an old blade he acquired during his first job as a hired gun...a job he hadn't the heart to complete. "Suppose I can't run from some things." He took this blade and tied it tightly to his rifle. It wouldn't be on long, but he didn't want to risk losing it before it found its rightful home.

On his way to the eastern gate, Elias stopped at a local black market dealer. He traded in the money he earned from taking down that thief earlier, along with what little he had left, for three grenades. Two being frags, the third being a highly experimental "thermal" grenade. The thing worked by simply increasing the temperature of the surrounding area to over 4,000 degrees. He was able to get it so cheap because not a single tester had lived to tell of it. "Hell, if I don't use it, I can probably sell it for at least twice what I just bought it for."

After his stop at the black market, he was heading through the market district and eyed one of the others that had been hired. He noticed the unarmed man eying what looked like a primitive battlestaff before walking away. As he walked away, Elias noticed a pickpocket strike. Before he could even get his gun, the pickpocket had slammed into an invisible surface, and the man was on his way. "Well I'll be damned...not many mages left these days." Elias wandered up to the booth the man was at, "Excuse me, I've got a question about that staff you have there..." Elias didn't have much money left, but a meager battlestaff was extremely cheap, though it did eat up what was left of his savings. Increasing his pace after his stop at the stall, he did his best to catch up to the young magus he would soon be working with. When he finally caught up to him, Elias ran in front of him and thrust the staff out towards the man. "Take this. You've got no weapons, and regardless of your magical skill, you'll need one. And I don't think we've had a proper introduction. Name's Elias, wanderin' gunman," and with that, Elias continued towards the gate.

(Controlled Elias with permission)

Dashal had only just taken out the thief and received his purse, when one of his companions had jumped in front of him and shoved something in his hands. Without even taking a look at the item that had been given to him, Dashal stared at the man with a curious look. The man perhaps noticed this, because he answered.
"Take this. You've got no weapons, and regardless of your magical skill, you'll need one. And I don't think we've had a proper introduction. Name's Elias, wanderin' gunman." And before Dashal could properly thank Elias, he had turned and left. In his haste, it looked as though he stumbled a bit, but he played it off with subtlety, and then he was gone.

"Weapon?" Dashal whispered as he looked down to his hands. There, sitting plain as day, was the battlestaff he had been looking at just a couple of minutes ago. He tested the weight of the staff by holding the end of it and shaking it up and down. It wasn't quite as heavy as he thought it'd be, but it was actually just right. He tossed the staff up, let it slip in between his fingers, and caught it at its mid-point. He continued toward the East Gate again, this time using the staff as a walking stick of sorts. When he got there, he saw Elias sitting on an elaborate stone bench with his elbows resting on his knees, and a round orb in his hands. It had some weird markings on it, and from what Dashal could make out, they were ancient runes; obviously an item of magic, but it was also made of metal, so it was a mix of technology and magic. "Interesting..." he thought. Dashal approached Elias, thinking over what he would say to the man, but once again he was lost in his thoughts. When he came to, he noticed Elias had lowered whatever was in his hands and was staring up at him. "Err...thanks." Dashal said as he scratched his head nervously. "Oh, yeah! I'm...Dashal, magician, as you've seen. It's nice to meet you Elias." he said, nearly forgetting his own name in the process. "What is that you have there?" he asked as he sat on the bench next to Elias.

Elias had completely forgotten he had the grenade out. "Oh, this thing?" he replied. "Its a highly experimental grenade. It mixes powerful ancient magics with modern technology to heat everything within a certain radius to an astounding degree. Problem is that nobodies survived a test use, though. 'Least its reusable...or supposed to be." He handed Dashal the grenade, as though asking him to exam it. "You know this magic crap better than I do. Let me know if the runes and such are in order. Like I said, they're old. Pre-fallers, even. Well beyond my knowledge."

Elias moved over a bit, making room for Dashal to sit. "Didn't expect to be the first one here." he contemplated, fidgeting with his rifle. His eyes moved to the blade and wouldn't move from it. "That wasn't a battle...that was a goddamned massacre. Glad I left, but it didn't do any good." That had been his first taste of combat, and he was surprised that it wasn't his last, either. One kill, and he was long gone. He swore he'd return that blade to one deserved it. It was truly elegant, clearly a blade wielded by a man of great stature. "Maybe this will resolve me of that sin." Elias had no idea why that battle had scarred him so badly, such things were a frequent occurrence at one point. Maybe it had to do with the impossible odds. He knew what they would be, but didn't think to object. Just a job for a paycheck, he figured. It was his last action anywhere near an army or battlefield. Street brawls were tame compared to such battles.

"Good day." said Cycladese curtly before slipping into an adjoining alleyway. As he coursed though the labyrinthine pathways and lanes of the Elven City, he tried to remember where he had last encountered Basta. He had met the crusty old javelineer many months before:

Cycladese entered Basta's marble villa, dressed in all his princely regalia. The Old man shut the door behind him. The house was uncomfortably pointy and creeper-lined, a perfect example of Elven Architecture. A wise smile spread across the criss-cross of wrinkles and scars that was his face.

"Cycladese!" he sang, "I often wondered what became of ye."
Prior to his entry, Basta was under the impression that Cycladese was long dead.
"Look at you, decked in all your best attire." he intoned, admiring the shining embroidery on the Hopolite's green cape. "Like a true Nobleman."
"Nice place you have here." said Cyclades, running his chapped fingers across the oaken cornice that fringed the door to the hallway. "What brought you to Elven Lands?"
"The peace." Basta exclaimed jovially, "I've retired from the battlefield. I now work as a farmer. Wake up, till the fields, return to my comfy hammock.. it's a blessed existence, really."

An hour of vapid conversation ensued, until Cycladese finally revealed the ulterior motive behind his seemingly chance-vistation.

"I go to gather them once more." he said, quietly, as Basta began throwing herbs into a cup of hot water at the table. It was a drink both of them fancied as children.
A dull silence filled the room.
"There are none left to be gathered." he remarked coldly. "You've been through six years under my tutelage - Had I not taught you, as an infant, to see things as they are?"
He lifted the mug and placed it before Cycladese, but the brazen warrior made no attempt to drink the warm beverage.
"You have, indeed. But you also told me of things noble and great. You-"
"I will not join you in your brawl with the Talzirans. They fought us once in a great war, and emerged victorious. And I've accepted that."
"I haven't." he said, hotly. His jaw bones were clenched tightly together, and his eyes burned. "I aim to defeat them in a second conflict."
"It is with remorse then, that I say that we must go our separate ways. You go North and war with the Talzirans, and I'll tend to the crop and bring in the harvest year after year."
He saw Basta's jade cape abandoned on the hook of a nearby coat-hanger. It looked like some dusty relic from a bygone era.

Within an hour, Cyclades was swiftly riding down the road to yet another distant city. He never succeeded in gathering a force against the Talzirans.

Now Cyclades stood before the deserted remains of the very same hovel where he had met the man many months ago. It looked twisted, sodden with moss and coloured in a sickly black. It stood betwixt a pair of towering edifices of glass and steel. He was confused.

He collared a passer-by and questioned him, "Was this not the residence of one Basta Deggaris?"
"Yea, he died some months back." he answered, loosening his arm from the giant's tight grip. "He died of a heart disease - I think."
Cycladese was shattered. Basta was like a father to him, he had taught him to fight, to read and to write. The friendship they bore was forged from a deep respect. It was a friendship that could not lessen through the vicissitudes of 10 years or through death.

The marble bust of an Elven Diety looked down upon him from the dreary roof of the villa. He sat upon the pavement and weeped.

Elias explained what he knew of the grenade, and then handed it to Dashal, who was clearly befuddled, but knew what Elias wanted anyways. As he started translating some of the runes, he saw Elias stare over at something, and when Dashal took a look, his eyes rested upon a finely crafted blade; almost something a lord would use. He saw grief on Elias' face, and read sadness in his eyes, so Dashal decided not to question anything.

Instead he leaned over and told Elias what he had translated so far. "You see here, this first rune, it roughly symbolizes a written version of earth magic I've seen before." Then he pointed at the next two runes. "That one is the action of earth, I can't read it, but this here says 'collide'. And this cluster here, it's a small story of creation, in a God-like sense, but in context it could be taken as our definition of the word. And this here...hmm..." Dashal thought for a few seconds before it came to him. "It translates, literally, into death. But back then, death was usually associated with fire, because they burned their dead. So the whole thing, in a sense, means 'Earth collides to create death (or fire)'."

Dashal looked away from the grenade to receive a confused look from Elias, so he explained what it meant. "Magic isn't all fancy 'make things out of nowhere' kinda stuff. Magic can only manipulate the elements. Or, in layman's terms, magic can only use what it's provided. So unless you threw this thing directly into a fire, it would have to use some sort of earth around it to create a spark, and then create the heat it produces. See, watch." Dashal said as he slammed the grenade into a metal wall behind him. The grenade visably vibrated a slight bit, but couldn't find components for its spell, and went into a rest again. "Understand?"

Elias went over to pick up his grenade. "Yeah, I get what you're saying. Earth plus fire equals god only knows what." Elias paused to think for a moment, before tightly wrapping the grenade in a piece of loose cloth. "We're gonna be in a desert. Can't have that thing falling around carelessly." He stuffed his tightly packed grenade into one of his pockets and looked back at Dashal.

"I saw you eyin' it. That blade." Elias paused and turned to face Dashal. "I'm seein' it goes to one who should have it. I picked it up off a fallen soldier on my first job. My employers would have sold it. I may be a mercenary, but even I have a sense of honor." He somewhat scoffed at himself after saying that last word. "Honor? It sure as hell wasn't honor that made me shoot him. More like fear."

"Oh, and I'd appreciate if you wouldn't tell anyone about that grenade. Don't wanna cause needless concern or anything." With that, Dashal nodded his head and seemed to lose himself in thought. "Don't wanna risk that damn Goblin finding it. Its worth a nice chunk if it works and doesn't kill us."

((Just wanted to get that all out of the way. Sorry this post is so short. Controlled Dashal a bit at the end because Deselin didn't want to do a post just to agree.))

"Don't tell anyone what?" asked Cycladese, who emerged suddenly from a nearby alleyway. His eyes were blood red, and his hair unkempt. The jade cape had been soiled by street dirt. His voice quivered in a peculiar manner and his thin lips dropped to form a warm smile. The spearhead and his steel armor glinted in the sun. He now bore a helm with a vertical slit through which one could see his eyes and his mouth. It was surmounted by a long, stately red feather. An item he usually kept stored in the fur wrappings that hung from his shoulder.

He was trying, very hard, to disguise his grief in affability and smiles.

Elias jumped at the sudden appearance of Cycladese. He had caught the man's name as when they were talking with the Goblin earlier. "Nothing, nothing." Elias stared at the man before bending down. "Now or never, I suppose."

He undid the ties on his gun, removing the blade from it. Holding it between his two hands, he approached the warrior. "I believe this belongs to you." he said. "Before you say a thing, allow me to address how I came across this. Some years ago, I was contracted by a large army from the northlands. It shortly after I fled my home, and I was in desperate need of money. They were plenty sized to combat anything in their way, but they wanted to be sure, so mercenaries were welcome." Elias paused before continuing. His recounting the battle was a difficult task. "I...was on the front. I had no idea how badly we outnumbered the other force. It wasn't so much a battle as a slaughter, as I'm sure you know. In the heat of battle, I was frozen, unable to move. A man, he looked much like yourself, approached me, as though he were to kill me. I think he saw the fear in my eyes, saw me as no threat, and he turned away... I shot him. Square in the back. He turned to me and gave me the most confused look I've ever seen, and he fell. Shock set in, and I passed out for the remainder of the battle. I came to just as it was ending. I grabbed the fallen warrior's blade, and ran. Never got my paycheck, never got the reputation I'd hope to build." Elias was struggling to continue at this point, the blade still grasped in his hands.

"Its all I've done for years now, run. When I saw you, though. Another of them. I knew I had to return this blade. At least I can say I did more than run for once." Tears began to swell in Elias' eyes, at this point. "The blade is yours, and you may do with it as you will. I imagine you were related to the man, as you appear so similar. Kill me if you wish. Just don't lose that damn blade."

Sarrisan's inn was rustic place, not a dump, but clearly not in the best of shape. It had begun business when this part of town was a slum, and back then it had fit in. But somewhere along the line, a group of Dwarves and Humans decided they didn't like the rest of the elven-dominant city and bought out much of the land for construction. Now the avenue was quite a market-hub, with Dwarf-cut stone open-windowed stores on one side of the street, and steel-plated mansions of other-worlder architecture to the other. The run-down, wooden inn was the only place they couldn't buy, for whatever price, and so it sat awkwardly in-between two fine Dwarven establishments, surprisingly making a good profit despite the owners refusal to improve the place and take away its "personality."

Sarrisan walked through the creaky swinging doors and into the common room. Unlike the outside, the interior of the place was very easy on the eyes, the slightly over-weight mistress never letting anything stay dirty for long. The walls were white-washed, and the floor and ceiling panels polished to a gleam. A number of similarly clean tables sat around the room, most of them occupied, and a flutist sat in the corner, letting out a peaceful tune. All in all, the place just radiated a homey feel, and it was for that reason - not to mention the excellent cooking - that it was still in business.

Humming quietly to the music - the song was one of his favorites - he quickly marched up the steps to the second floor, where his room was located at the end of the hall. He opened the door to reveal a small space, almost the size of a walk-in closet, that contained a bed, an end-table with a mirror hanging over it off of a hook, and a small cabinet. His things were already together and lying in his pack on the bed; a few changes of clothes, an extra box of bullets, and a few other items, he traveled lightly, in case he ever had to move fast. It was for that reason he never bothered putting his things in the cabinet.

Slinging his pack over his shoulder, he took the back way out of the inn. His stay was already payed for, and anything in advance he would gladly give up to avoid the innkeepers harsh glare; she was of a mind that "men his age" should be settled down with children, not gallivanting off gods knew where. She just couldn't accept the idea that he wasn't really old, despite his hair and wrinkles. Men of his occupation did not age the way other humans did, or other Dwarves, Elves and half-trolls did either. Of course, there weren't very many of his unique condition left around that people ever really believed him when he said he was still pretty young. He had given up trying to make them believe long ago.

Whistling now, he walked out into East Square, where the gate of the same name was located. He quickly looked in both directions, trained eyes surveying alcoves, nearby people, and where their hands were. He quickly spotted his companions over by a bench in front of him, one sitting down and the other two facing each other. One of the standing ones, the one who had shot down the thief with his commending marksmanship, was holding something in his hands out in front of him, with a pained expression on his face. Intrigued, Sarrisan slipped up and behind some nearby trees, just within earshot and in time to catch enough of the man's story to understand what was going on. With the ease of long habit, his hand drifted down to the handle of his revolver and carefully pulled back the hammer, taking his usual comfort in the sense of security the small click it made provided him.

And this had started out as such a promising day.

((If you'll give me a bit of control to save us some future trouble.))

"The trunk is under the platform.. woah, woah woah woah. Watch it mate, please, they're delicate." Baek followed nervously as the burly storehouse assistant stuck the crates, trinkets, and provisions into the trunk. Though the buggy had some speed to pack, just looking at it gave the impression that it was intended for raiding. The rock silent assistant wasn't much of a mood raiser either. But that wasn't what kept Baek on the edge. He broke the silence.
"Haven't I seen you before?"
It wasn't something to be expected in a situation like this, but the burly man lashed his head to Baek in a more than startled manner.
"N-no. Must have been someone else."
"Right... right. Sorry 'bout that." But the primal tension of the goblin couldn't shake it loose. 'He was one to have a lot of henchmen. Could have sworn I saw this one while passing a room there.'
"That's the last one," the burly man spoke, interrupting Baek's train of thought. "I'll be going now. Safe journey." He left in a hurry.
"Well, no use wallowing over something like this. It's a slight bit under the hour. Might as well drive her in." Starting the ignition with his keys, and pulling a small, oddly placed lever under the steering wheel to lower it, he then pushed his feet onto the pedal and gently steered the buggy out of the roofed vehicle lot adjacent to the east wall, and toward the gate further down. Making a fancy entrance with skid marks galore was something Baek would have enjoyed, but the elves disdained towards unsightly things in their community, and the hardboiled dune buggy was a shining example. The buggy made it's way through the street, as passerby frantically got out of the way. The majority gave a slight frown at the buggy, with the exception of two people. The elven couple from earlier waved at him with slightly pitiful smiles, assuming Baek never got his items back.

The clock planted on the outer wall of a public building indicated that it was a minute past the hour. The four mercenaries began scanning the streets out of worry, as the buggy wasn't in sight. But relief came in, as the buggy appeared in the horizon, moving at an abnormally slow speed. When it finally creaked to a halt a few feet from the bench, the reason for the tortoise speed was made clear. Quite a few children were latched onto the buggy, pressing buttons and playing on top of the marksman platform.
"Off! You little bunch of turds, off my buggy!" A child hopped onto Baek, pulling his nose back. Baek stretched out his hands, his finger barely able to rest on a small button hidden under the steering wheel. A flare shot out from the front of the buggy, exploding in a demonic red haze.
"Off before I roast you like marshmallows!"
The children screamed at the top of their lungs, jumping out of the buggy and scattering away. Baek slowly got out of it as well, approaching the bench as he straightened his suit and pulled out a pair of binoculars.
"If you would take your mind off what just happened, gentlemen." His face was the opposite of the one inside the buggy. "Good, it seems you all have the guts I hoped for." He looked at his protection, building up a small pile of confidence in himself.

"The warrior, the mage, the gunner," He tossed the binoculars to the one with the white knotted hair ,"the soon to be relied on navigator, and the drop dead handsome goblin. I say we're ready." The party took their seats, and the one with the rifle took the stool on the marksman platform. The buggy started out of the gate.

"Now that we are officially a group, gentlemen, I'd like to hear a fancy name and introduction from each of you."

((MK, you are free to control the buggy's movement with your navigation calls))

Dashal was the first to respond to the goblins request, although he was still nervous. "D-Dashal. I come from the Dareli magic family." he said with a slight stutter, and not wanting to introduce himself anymore. Not only because he was shy, but because he was a fairly uninteresting person, always just letting life pass him by. He wasn't comfortable in the vehicle, mainly because he despised technology so much. No one seemed to notice his concern, however, so Dashal looked out the left side of the buggy to the expanding desert. "What kinds of danger lurk here, I wonder." And with that, he was lost in his mind again, thinking about the creatures they would encounter.

(Short post, sorry. All I could think of.)

With the Goblin's words, Elias thrust the blade into Cycladese's hands, not waiting for a response. "Should you choose to have your revenge, you can have it when we're either at our destination, or in hell." After his words, Elias made his way into the buggy, moving quickly as he could to the rear mount.

From his newfound perch, Elias scanned where they were about to venture into. The dunes between here and their destination were the closest thing men would find to hell in this life. He ran a quick check of his weapon one last time before they made their way into the dunes. "Looks good to me." Looking around at the Goblin's precious cargo, Elias had to ask a single question, "Hey, Baek. Ya' got a bigger gun to put on here or am I stuck with squeezin' and prayin'?"

((Sorry for the deteriorating quality of my posts! Argh- schoolwork))

A wave of animalistic rage washed over Cycladese's mind. Fresh flows of hot blood blazed through his veins and arteries - his heart thumped against his soft ribs like a caged beast. His head felt light as a feather, and his desultory thoughts clung feebly to the maelstrom of heated emotions that was swiftly dissolving the insides of his soul. His brother, Saldjadese, had been slain by a bullet to the back - loosened by a traitor mercenary, not of the Northlands. Elias was most certainly him.

He thrust his great spear into the expanse of pale skin that lay between Elias' thick eyebrows. He convulsed briefly and fell, his timorous blood flowing in little rivulets of red down the cobbled street.

Before he could act upon the malevolent thoughts that plagued his mind's eye, Cycladese was suddenly whisked away into the smelly confines of the dune buggy by his fast-talking Goblin employer. He saw the shredded leather strips on the floormat of the vehicle, obviously wrung from the seat cover by childish hands. He stared into the empty space that lay before him and his face eased into blank expression. He still held the great sword in his rough, whip-smitten hands

'Perhaps you will not die on the street.' he thought, his eyes bearing down coldly on Elias' reflection in the rear view mirror. 'But when the time comes, and you are alone and trapped, I will kill you in the dunes and leave your hewn carcass to the vultures and the worms - Tis a Hopolite's word.'

(I'll just assume the introductions happened)

"I'm glad you asked..." Baek grinned, steering past bumps and shrubbery, with the dunes in the distant horizon. The wheels began kicking up small amounts of sand.
"The ledge going to where you are opens like a trap door. Help yourself." To Baek, it is a kindness to pick up things off of dried up bones and use them once again. A very nasty habit in fact. "Laser charge reservoirs, one RPG, a machine gun, ammunition belts, help yourself. Oh and, just for the benefit of us all, know that the trunk where my goods are are under Elias. By far it can take a heavy beating, but it's better safe than sorry."

He abruptly stopped the buggy. They were at the painfully obvious border that marked a change in terrain. On one side, there was slight grass and vegetation. And on the other, hardened earth, eventually leading to sand. In the distance, the horrid image of a gargantuan sand worm, the part of it outside easily the size of a guard tower, dived out and back into the sand as if it were a whale. "Look at that, gentlemen. It's like something from a horror novel. Sarrisan, your navigation will make us venison or give us victory. Try to discern pockets of hard dirt and rock in this place, and I'll steer us between them. The sand worms know better than to take on large groups, but it would swallow a single buggy on sand whole. We'll camp above solid earth or in caves, fending off whatever comes to us then, and then repeat the before. Never expect a moments respite. Most predators in here are hungry and desperate, and many familiar merchants have never stepped out of here when going solo. Also..." He wasn't exactly sure how to describe it, so he pressed on the pedal a bit to begin the first few steps into the dunes.

"We will rest in caves only if we absolutely have to. Emphasis on absolutely... There are veterans that make good money shipping goods between the dunes, and I've been hearing stories lately that don't sparkle the day. There are these... things... things that have been following caravans. Never once did they target goods. People have been calling them "magic coffins." If we are unfortunate enough to have a pack of them follow us, you will most certainly eventually catch one in at the edge of your eye, but never in an entirety. The reason they're called "magic coffins" is because people would just end up missing, whether it was to take a crap in a distance, step back a few to pick up a dropped crate, or even when the entire party has their eyes away from that single person. They don't have a pretty little picture in Mckleivlan's World Book of Monsters yet, but people who have had to fight them at one point or another and lived to tell the story, report extremely humanoid appearances. They fight like cowards. It will never be an open brawl unless they're driven to the brink. They will jump on your neck, they will lacerate your face and retreat into the night, they will bite you and wait for an infection. If we can't dispatch of them immediately, hope that we don't have to fight them. Ever."

He looked back to his party, and assumed Cycladese took it the worse. The man's veins popped out like earthworms, his breathing was a bit faster than normal, and he clung onto Elias' sword in an irregular manner. Turning around, Baek made a slight grimace.

'Gods preserve me.'

Almost as soon as the goblin had revealed the caches location, Elias flung open the ledge to view the small weapons cache. "Damn. This goblin knows what he's doin'." Sifting through the weapons, Elias found what he was looking for. The goblin's machinegun wasn't the best he'd ever seen, but far from the worst. "An old 1500 series, eh? Not bad, not bad at all. I'd prefer an 1800, myself, but this'll do. It'll keep those sandworms at bay, anyway." Rummaging a bit more, Elias found some of the ammo belts and set to loading the gun.

It took him a bit of time, but he had the gun loaded and mounted. He looked up from his work to see they were at the edge of the dunes. Thrusting his hand into one of his pockets, he pulled out a set of goggles and strapped them to his forehead. "Nothin' stings worse then sand in the eyes." he thought, as he pulled them down over his eyes. Looking down, he saw Cycladese still holding the blade that he had returned. "Well...whatever he chooses to do may sting more."

Firmly grasping the grips on the rear of the gun, Elias moved it about to get a feel for it. It was a bit stiff, but that was to be expected as he only just installed it. "Alright, I've got the machinegun all set and ready to go," Elias said rather loudly, as they slowly made their way onto the dunes, "the 1500 series doesn't pack much of a punch, but its rate of fire is enough to offset it."

A sigh accompanied the hammer of his revolver as he slowly set it back in place. It seems trouble has been averted, for now, he thought as Elias stepped into the buggy. Sarrisan could care less what they did to each other later, but for now they would both be needed to get through that damned desert alive. Silently he moved out of from behind the trees, letting his steps gain sound after two or three strides. He let his grin come back to his face as he made his own way to the buggy, catching the goblin's set of binoculars in his right hand.

Settling into the buggy he commented absently, "I hope you've some experience in driving these things over sand, my green friend, because it work the same way as it does on solid land." He slung the binoculars around his neck and settled himself more comfortably into the vehicle's hard seat as the car got going.

Before he settled into his role as watchman, he took a quick survey of his companions. Dashal looked a bit uncomfortable, which was expected from an elf, and Cycladese looked perfectly fine, except that he was clutching that bloody sword of his like it was going to just out the window. Elias was the only one he couldn't really see, due to his place on the gunners perch and his business with his newfound friend, the machine gun. Letting out a sigh that truly did sound old, Sarrisan turned to watch the scenery go by. A bloody fine group of individuals this is. Perhaps this job wasn't the best idea I've ever had. Soon they were passing into the desert, and Sarrisan turned all of his attention to keeping them alive.

He smiled ruefully at the goblin's explanation, but didn't say anything. He'd been to this desert before, and knew it's dangers well, though the 'magic coffins' were new to him. He didn't worry though, keeping an eye out was in his nature. Finally, he set the binoculars to his eyes as they finally moved out onto the sand, surveying the land back and forth as the sun beat down on them

(I was extremely bored in Study Hall today, so I wrote this up. Excuse any mistakes, as I'm copying it word for word.)

Dashal, watching all the other passengers of the buggy, reached over to his right and grabbed a pair of goggles out of the tray in between the seats. He could've used his magic to easily shield his own eyes, but his resolve told him it wasn't a good idea. He'd rather keep his magical endurance for when he really needed it.

Grudgingly, but for good purpose, Dashal pulled back the elastic band and secured it above his pointy ears, then he pulled the two eyepieces of the goggles over his eyes and adjusted the tightness accordingly. A few specks of sand and spots of grime remained on the goggles from their previous use, so Dashal used his sleeve to wipe them off. He couldn't see clearly, but it was better than becoming blind and not being able to see at all.

After he was done with his goggles, he took another look around the vehicle, only to notice that everyone else already had their goggles on. They all looked relatively funny with their goggles, but he supposed it was no different for himself. Realizing it would be a while before anything particularly exciting would happen, Dashal resumed staring out at the expanse of desert sand before them. Just as he did, he saw a giant worm come right out of the sand and dive back in, its long end following it for a good minute, and then disappearing completely. Dashal leaned forward a bit, just enough to talk to the goblin driving, and shouted "I just hope we don't have to confront one of those things!"

At some point shortly after they were onto the dunes, Elias heard Dashal shout, "I just hope we don't have to confront one of those things!" Elias bent down a bit from his mount and yelled in retort, "Ya' don't gotta worry about those things! I'll try and keep everything off of us best as I can!"

As to keep himself entertained, Elias started going over the machine gun, to see that everything was in working order. He began too intricately move his fingers over the weapon, seeming to dance them upon it. Everything seemed to be in working order, for the most part. The sights were bent to a small degree, nothing that would hurt, though. After some test firing, he had determined the barrel, though coated in a few rust patches, was maintained quite well. The cone-of-fire for the gun was nowhere near as loose as it should have been, which was quite odd.

Upon further inspection, Elias noticed the gun was actually a custom job. He let out a long, drawn-out whistle at this discovery, "Damn. This thing's been fixed up for military use, the firepower's been pumped up a tad-bit without even subtracting from its rate of fire. It can ever fire AP rounds if it has to. Where the hell did that goblin pick up somethin' like this..? Does he even know? After some more thought, he figured it wasn't a bit deal, and gazed out into the desert. There were no worms, no 'coffins', not even any raiders. "Talk about dull..."

((Sorry for the grammar problems and broken ideas. Today wasn't exactly the best day of my life, to say the least.))

"Just a bit more until that flat rock... and.. Woah!" A large bump hit the top right wheel of the buggy and swept the men to the left in a startle.

"Son of a... there wasn't anything there, dammit!" Baek struck at the handbrake and sent the buggy to a 90 degree spin left, giving him a view of what he hit. Maybe he should have kept going. Maybe it was best to see what the dunes coughed up. Either way, Baek's face turned to stone. The dying aftereffect of a sandstorm blew a good layer of sand away, leaving a foreboding image. Corpses, in the dozens, lay strewn across the sand with stray tires and buggy parts, all hidden by a stroke of devilish coincidence. He brought the buggy to a calm tour toward the bed of death, taking a look at the surroundings, and stopping dead in the center of the scene. Something stood out. He immediately hopped off the buggy and ran towards a mangled corpse on top of the shattered remains of a crate. After pushing the dead man off, his eyes caught something that sent his heart beating in a frenzy. A small flame was under the hill of two by fours, stubbornly using what oxygen it could muster to keep alight. Then it all came to him in a storm. Baek was now in level with the massacre, and gave the dead a keener forensic. Familiar five fingered slashes decorated the corpses, oozing out fresh blood. Their skin still held pigmentation, bringing Baek to a conclusion he should have realized after the first look.

His head jolted in paranoia toward the origin of a sound. Carrion birds fired up into the air from a distant location in a startle. Baek quickly rushed back towards the buggy, and stomped the pedal in a panic, going past the flat rock and heading for a farther one. "I've lingered us here for too long. Not even a day has passed since these men met their demise. I should have known. Sand worms would have a place for them in their belly. The desert hounds would have stripped off all the bone, This is their handiwork." They all knew the goblin spoke of the magic coffins.
"We we're followed from the moment we left what little shrubbery and grass there was behind, just in time for them to notice us as they finished up that lot." He looked back for a final glimpse of the massacre. "A party would be slowly picked off, like the petals of a flower. Shit! This doesn't bode well. I can't believe they picked off that whole caravan in one fell swoop." He turned to the members of the party. "That flame I spotted, and the buggy debris.. " In his mind, Baek painted the exact image of the events that occurred in that acre of sand. The caravan had made speed to the city, only to be ambushed by the Coffins, who in blind rage, pieced away the buggies and crashed them, making quick work of the frightened survivors.
"Keep your eyes like falcons, gentlemen. Like falcons."

((Sorry for the long wait guys, things have been going on and I haven't had the time to sit down and think up a good post. At least we're finally going into our first fight scene.))

Sarrisan had his revolver out before they even stopped at the sight of the destroyed caravan. His face was calm as he watched Baek run out to check the bodies, he was old enough to have seen - and made - dead people before. It was a particularly gruesome sight, more so to Sarrisan because of the size then because people were dead. If that many people hadn't stood a chance... He and his companions were in for a very eventful ride.

His employer came back had them moving at full speed within moments as he explained their doom. Falcons, eh? He'd outdo them. His eyes were better then most, and with the binoculars he was able to keep a pretty good watch on all sides of the buggy. He was beginning to think that perhaps they had outrun whatever had killed those others when he noticed something far to their right, loping effortlessly in pace with them. Just barely within sight of a normal human, he was able to make out some of the detail. Roughly humanoid in shape, they ran with all of their limbs, and their skin was gray in some places, brown in others. They blended into the desert fairly well, especially since they ran crouched to the ground and often disappeared behind the sand dunes. He couldn't make out anything more, but he could only assume they had claws and teeth like any other predator. He was able to could four to their right, and with a few more sweeps, and equal number to their left and behind them, though more could appear at any time. Slowly but surely, they were gaining ground.

Without lowering his binoculars or stopping his sweeps, Sarrisan waved his revolver all around him, "Outlaw with the machine gun!" He called in a shout, "To the right, left or behind us, you will have targets shortly. Take your pick. Cycladese, I don't know exactly what that spear of your can do, but I saw was it nearly did in town, and I suggest you ready it now if it's capable of any shooting at all. Elf, I won't even pretend to know what you are capable of, but whatever it is, I suggest you get it ready." Taking his own advice, he pulled the hammer on his revolver and held it against his side, ready to be lowered and fired on a moments notice. With greater speed now, the 'coffins' began to close on them.

Dashal watched as the goblin surveyed the wreck carefully before a grim look stole over his face. The goblin rushed back to the buggy, told Dashal and the others of their impending doom, and then sped off, as fast as he could. Dashal looked in every direction, searching, but couldn't find a thing; until the old man told them they were in every direction. Dashal still couldn't see them, but he kept his eyes open. Soon enough, and not even a few seconds later, Dashal could see around three or four crouched figures speeding towards the buggy off the left side of the vehicle.

Dashal knew his magic couldn't do anything from this far away, but maybe he could scare some of them off. He searched for something to use below him, not just sand, but something more dangerous, or at least harder; these things were obviously unaffected by sand. He eventually found a boulder that they had apparently just passed under, so he grabbed hold of it with his mind, in a sense, and lifted it out of the sand. It followed along side Dashal as fast as the buggy was going. The boulder was too big to throw even a few feet, so Dashal split it in half effortlessly, and then into fourths. Four fairly big rocks hovered off the left side of the vehicle, and then were thrown as far as they could towards the 'coffins'. All four missed, but one had gotten close, and the other three only made it harder to see by coughing up a lot of sand from the dunes.

"Shit..." he cursed quietly. He slouched into his seat, slightly exhausted. He overestimated his own power, but he'd be fine in another minute or so. It made him wonder, did they even have a minute?

Surveying the wreckage, Elias saw what appeared to be bodies everywhere. "Oh my fu-" Before he could even finish his sentence, the buggy was off at top speed. Baek was driving as if the god's themselves were chasing them, and they were bringing the terror of hell with them.

It wasn't long after they started off that Elias had heard the aged warrior mention that they were being pursued, "Outlaw with the machine gun! To the right, left or behind us, you will have targets shortly." He was going to shout something in retort to being called an outlaw, but held his tongue. "Now REALLY isn't the time for that, he thought to himself. "OK, he said they were going from the right, left, and rear. They should have the sides covered, I'll take the rear."

Spinning about, Elias heard four loud thuds before finding his targets. He had seen a boulder flying past him shortly before hand. "Musta been that mage." Scanning the area, Elias saw what looked to be four shapes quickly gaining on them. They were hard to spot, given their natural coloration. "Alright, bastards. Lets see how you like this!" Taking a split-second to aim his gun, Elias let loose with a series of bursts at his targets, full-auto firing was impossible at this distance.

After a few bursts, one of his targets stumbled and rolled back. "HAHA! Got one!" He said as he whipped around to to tell his companions. Turning back around, he saw not three, but four targets still. Had he merely wounded one of them? Had another taken its place? Perhaps his eyes had lied too him? "What in the name of the gods is going on?" He muffled under his breath, as he proceeded to let loose with a full-auto barrage. "What are these hell-spawn...?"

((No, I won't let this die!))

Sarrisan quickly checked on his partners, who seemed to be covering the left and back as well as could be expected, so he turned to the right. Lifting his revolver and leveling it on one of the devils, he took a deep breath, made minor adjustments according to wind, the speed the buggy was moving at, and rocks they bounced over. Finally, he squeezed of three shots, and then a fourth. One of the Coffins somersaulted and fell out of sight, but suddenly there were five of them, instead of three. Swearing, he fired the last two rounds in the revolver's chamber in frustration.

Opening the spinning chamber with a flick of his wrist, he surveyed the terrain around them. This certainly was not working, with open dunes all around them they could be surrounded and taken down while only causing minute casualties, if they caused any at all. Letting the binoculars hang, he dug bullets out of a small satchel hanging at his side and began filling his gun, continuing to keep an eye on the Coffins and search for a solution at the same time.

There! He saw something, perhaps their salvation, perhaps a convenient burial ground. Either way, it was better then letting sand clog up his gun any more then he had to. Flicking his gun closed again, he leaned over to Baek, "Turn twenty-three degrees to your left, and keep heading straight," he shouted over the noise, "In a few minutes you'll come to a canyon. If you can keep them from getting ahead of us in the process, we'll have them bottlenecked, and then we might stand a chance." getting back into his seat, he began firing slowly to the right, not really trying to kill anything this time but just trying to delay them as much as he could.

((My bad, KOTOR is sort of stealing my weekend. Did you contact x_king?))

"A canyon eh? Quite the risk you're taking my friend. If the canyon so happens to be a dead end.... Well, I hope you carried a picture of family along to add some dramatic effect to your last stand.... Ah well, better to die in the shade than out here yeah? Hang on!"

By now, Baek had already accepted the gamble he had taken many times before, whether it involved caravan eating dunes or not. The gamble if he could escape death's hand spanned many years of his life. Sailing pirate infested waters, salvaging villages infested with wraiths and ghouls, delivering supplies through battlefields under arcane artillery fire; Baek had done it all. Now he was on a raider buggy, with a moreso than motley crew, a pack of the most infamous dune killers on their trail, heading into an unidentified canyon.

As instructed, Baek wheeled the car twenty three to the left as the canyon came to sight. He grimaced as three or so sand worms went about their business in their path.
"Covering fire, all of you! I don't care if its an RPG or a rock, throw something at them! And do not, I repeat, do NOT hit the sand worms!" An idea sparked in his head. He recalled the past moments of this run of desperation, and pieced together his surroundings, notably the infant Sand Worm in front of them. Though it's diameter easily met many dozens of feet, it's digestive system and esophagus should still be in development against hazardous and tough materials.
"Change of plans... Wizard! I have an idea, and I will shine your shoes and buy you a tavern whore if you can do this for me. That infant sand worm is moving alongside the canyon edge. If I calculated my speed correctly, we will barely scape into the canyon right before it passes the entrance. Pull some rocks out of the sand, and chuck it into the thing's mouth. If the bugger keels over the entrance, we've bought ourselves one hell of a distance."

((Sorry it's a bit short, I couldn't really think of much...))

"Gotcha, but I can pass on the shoe shine!" Dashal said as he stepped up, once again, on his seat. He searched again under the ground for a boulder, smaller this time, and found one in no time. No doubt because they were nearing a canyon, but he didn't pay much attention to facts, and instead he was already splitting the boulder into two. Noticing that the boulder was too small, he drudged up another from the bottom of the sand. The wind was creating a mini-sandstorm around them from all the sand being coughed up into the air, but Dashal could still see the canyon and, more importantly, the six small boulders hanging off the side of the buggy. "Tell me when!" he yelled, obviously under pressure from holding the boulders.

((Maybe you should put x_king's character on hold or something for now?))

((Yeah, X-king isn't responding to my PM, so I'm just gonna have his character "tag along" until he gets back. I hope Lefos doesn't abandon us too!))

Bang, bang, Sarrisan's gun barked, and this time he was sure he'd gotten one - he could see it's head nearly removed from it's body as it fell. Flicking his gun open to be reloaded again, he turned to the scene around him. They were nearly to the canyon now, with that gruesome baby sand worm in place. He whipped his head around the buggy; the devils were gaining on them fast, it would be a close call as to what killed them first; the Coffins or a landslide. Either way, it was their only chance.

His gun full again, he flicked it closed for perhaps the last time in his life. He took a moment to enjoy the feel of it clicking in his hand, a familiar sound of control and a promise of protection. Jounced out of his reverie by a violent bouncing, he shook his head and lifted the binoculars to his eyes, scanning the ground ahead of them. "Almost there, ready... Now!" He lowered his arm as he shouted, grabbing a hold of the side of the car as he whispered a prayer to some god, anywhere.

((Boy that post sucked, but it's all I can do for now, sorry.))

((Lefos said he'd post later. Don't worry about him, he's the one who made me post. D=))

Dashal held his ground as the buggy got closer and closer to the canyon, when finally, the man behind him yelled "Now!" Dashal aimed as well as he could as they were soaring over the canyon, and made at least 5 of the boulders into the worm's mouth. The last one bounced off of the skin lining the edges of his mouth. The worm swallowed them delightedly, and sunk back into the canyon as the buggy just barely touched the ground on the other side. A loud thrashing sound sent a wave of relief over Dashal; it had at least worked. But in enough time? Dashal didn't want to think, he had strained his mind enough, and so he fell back into his seat. He was on the verge of passing out...but he didn't want to miss out on anything, so he forced himself to stay awake. "Ha...haha...I...did it..." he mumbled with a half smile.

((REALLY bad post, sorry.))

((Yeah, I'm not leaving you guys. Sorry that this post isn't really much, though. Best I could do for now.))

The buggy had suddenly jerked to the vehicles left, and a stream of Elias' shots went wide. "Dammit. What the hell is going on up there?" Turning around, he saw what they were going for. "Well, if we're gonna make a last stand, may as well make it where we have the advantage." He turned back around, moved the gun back towards his foes, and unleashed a spray of hot metal into them.

Elias had heard a series of loud noises, and the buggy shook gently. Looking to either side, he saw boulders flying in the air next to the buggy, moving to the side of Dashal. After a few moments, the boulders flew into the mouth of what looked to be a young sand worm. "What the hell is the purpose of feeding one of those things?" Refacing his targets, Elias saw the worm slam into the ground just behind the buggy. With a start, he had almost fallen backwords off his perch. "In the name of all things good and holy! WARN ME NEXT TIME!" he shouted at his companions.

Baek laughed maniacally "Scratch one sand worm, you shit eating coffins!". The impact from the rocks against it's never ending trail of hunger sent the worm into a state of shock as it crashed to the ground, thrashing around at the entrance of the canyon, bringing down a suitable amount of debris. A few dozen minutes of concentrated digestion and excretion, and the sand worm would have been up and about in it's life. Sadly, there were the coffins. Seeing no way to climb over the worm's skin, which is heavily lubricated my membranes constantly for easier travel through the sand, they proceeded to make an artificial tunnel through the worm. The agonizing howling of the sand worm brought the sighs of relief to a halt, as Baek turned around to his party.

"Fantastic in every meaning, gentlemen. This canyon doesn't appear to be a dead end, and we are fast approaching Flession, and even though the coffins will be at us in a moment, they will be funneled by this canyon trail. Reload, check for jamming, have a smoke, do what you will so you can get more kills. Take a few tosses of grenades from the storage. They-" The slow stream of howling ended abruptly, and a sound of flesh bursting in a nauseating manner rang from the distance.

"Well, I suppose they're here."

((It's hard to make something long in action sequences))

Dashal groaned; he wasn't ready for more combat. If he had just practiced more before they left he'd be fine, but he was too stupid too, and was too absorbed in that grenade that Elias had. He looked behind the buggy, but couldn't see the coffins because of his smudged goggles.

"A rockslide!" he thought aloud, and his comrades looked at him. "It may be risky, but it could help us out of this predicament." This time, they all looked at him like he was crazy. He frowned, and sat back down. He probably didn't have enough power left to do it anyways. He thought of ways to use other than the Earth, but the only other element around them was air. There was always fire, from the sparks made by the gun Elias held, but the resulting flame would probably make the gun explode. At least, Dashal thought, he had no clue but he wasn't about to risk it.

"Help me here, what the hell can I do?!"

((Yeah, I'm going to see if there is any way to make the next one a bit more... open.))

Sarrisan let himself smile as the sandworm crashed down at the canyon's entrance, that should at least buy us some time, he thought. Listening to his employer, he realized he had completely forgotten the weapons cache and it's myriad of armaments. While he still had a few moments of peace left, he climbed back to where it was, opened it, and began shuffling around. Almost immediately, the sickening sound of the coffins journey through the worm reached him even at this distance. Cursing, he sped up his search, being careful not to get himself killed as he moved weapons back and forth.

Finally, he found what he was looking for, or at least something as similarly useful. Slipping his revolver back into it's place on his belt, he grabbed hold of the Grenade Launcher with both hands, hauling it up and checking it's ammunition. High Explosive, perfect. Now lets see if I can remember how to use one of these things... Slinging the carrying strap over his shoulder, he returned to his seat. Bracing his right foot against the floor as much as he could, he leaned on his left knee on the top of his seat. He raised the gun to firing position on his hip, grabbed the side of the buggy with his free hand, and waited for the bastards to get in range.

(I wasn't completely sure where the weapons cache was located, so forgive me if my actions like, you know, defy the laws of physics or something.))

"A grenade launcher, eh...?" Stuffing his hand into one of his pockets, Elias pulled out his tightly wrapped bundle. "Now or never, I suppose..." Doing his best to keep himself inside the buggy, he dismounted the perch and moved over near Sarrisan, who was readying the grenade launcher. "Here, take this! It's one helluva gamble, but its probably our best bet!" Elias unwrapped the cloth from around the grenade and handed it gently to Sarrisan. "Its an experimental magi-tech weapon! It'll super-heat the nearby area to a point where NOTHING will be able to survive more then a couple seconds in it, sandworms included! Just land it a bit ahead of them so we don't have to worry about them escaping."

Slowly, Elias made his way back to his perch where he resumed his barrage of bullets. "Just gotta pray that this works... We're movin' fast enough we should be able to outrun the blast, but if we don't..." He decided it wasn't worth dwelling on, if they died, they died. If they lived, they lived. Plain and simple.

((Why yes I did steal a term from FF6. I couldn't think of much anything else and it just worked.))

Just as soon as Dashal had sat back down, he saw Elias stand up and walk over to the older man sitting to Dashal's right. Elias handed the man a round object wrapped in some cloth. Dashal's eyes bulged at the sight of it. "You can't honestly be thinking about using it now!" he screamed at Elias. "Not while we don't have protection from it ourselves!" Before Elias could speak, Dashal cut him off. "Listen, if you are planning on using it, give me a couple minutes to get ready. I can protect us from the blast should it get too close."

((Short, but I don't want this one to die...))

((For now, I think it's logical to stop worrying about short posts as, in the confined space our characters are located, there isn't a whole lot to illustrate in each individual post.))

Taking the strange grenade from Elias, Sarrisan listened closely to Dashal's words, carefully weighing in his mind the possibilities of escape from the creatures, and the blast, which was sure to be something fierce to behold. Finally, with a final glance at their doom bearing down on them, he ejected the grenade that was in the launchers chamber, loaded the magical one, and lifted the gun to his hip, aiming a bit ahead of the creatures. "Alright mage," he shouted over the clamor, "you've got thirty seconds to whip up something pretty for us, because I don't think our friends are going to give us the benefit of a few minutes."

((Alright Deselin, since you are making our protection - not to mention you're our only magic user, and this grenade is a magical device - I'm leaving it up to you as to what the effects of the blast are.))

((Shit, sorry for taking awhile))

"Damn..." The party seemed engrossed in keeping watch of the rear, so it appeared Baek was the first to notice. The stinging glare on the rear view mirror died out as the sun was blocked out by the canyon crevices. Sunset quickly became night. Though the miracle of a canyon passage cut much of the travel time to Flession, it would certainly be morning when they reached Flession. If they reached Flession.

"If I've equated our travel time with mileage correctly, and this compass wasn't bastardized by the Gods themselves, I'd say that Flession is only a few more miles from us." The inhuman howl of the Coffins were as near as they could get, and the pack came into sight, moving at a disturbing speed on all fours, frothing in the mouths and snarling at the buggy. After countless successful hunts, the Coffins knew all too well how to predict a gunners movements, lashing their bodies skillfully out of the way whilst still maintaining speed at a few bullet rounds.

((Yeah, uhh, sorry for the LATE post, completely my bad.))

Dashal watched the advancing coffins and yelled to the old man. "Ok, do it now, but land it a good 60 feet from the coffins! The blast isn't instantaneous." The man followed the orders without hesitation, and as Dashal watched the grenade soar through the air, he could only wonder the destruction upon them once it landed. And as soon as it did, Dashal saw that his prediction was correct; the grenade started picking up sand and rocks in the area to strike together and make a spark. The rocks were slamming together so hard that they crumbled into dust afterwards, but there wasn't a big enough spark to produce the blast. Dashal looked at the side of the canyon and saw that parts of it were crumbling away, encouraged by the magic of the grenade to join the mass of rock and sand, and just as soon as Dashal looked back at the grenade, two large boulders flew out of the canyon walls and smashed together, catching a coffin in between.

The resulting spark had obviously been enough, because almost immediately afterwards, a massive amount of fire burst forth from the rocky area. The fire was seemingly normal, but magically heated to make its blast more deadly. Dashal got ready to push the fire back if it were to get close, standing on his chair once again and preparing his staff. The fire seemed to have a life of it's own, snaking through the canyon and jumping out of the top, it's mouth nearly enveloping them. Dashal thrust his own arms out, using all of his energy to push the fire back as far as he could, or at least stop it for a time. It worked, but he realized another problem just early enough to stop it. The magically heated fire was superheating the rock canyon all around them, and most of the boulders were falling out of their places into the canyon. One of the said boulders flew at their buggy, and Dashal moved his right hand to throw it into the fire itself. "This isn't as easy as it seems!" he yelled over the roaring fire. "Move around the fiery boulders of death, will ya?" he screamed to the goblin driving. If he didn't have to worry about the boulders he'd be able to focus solely on the fire, but even then he didn't know how long he could keep it up...

((Hope this is ok...))

((It's great, don't worry. Also, because we seem to do so much talking, I'm going to go ahead and open an OOC thread after I post this, so that we stop interrupting the story flow.))

Sarrisan was troubled at first, as it didn't seem to really be working, besides making a significant mess of the canyon. But when it finally ignited, he couldn't stop the whoop that tore from him. Danger always got the blood going, but never like victory did. A sadistic satisfaction brimmed inside him as he watched his supposed executioners burn alive, their screams echoing off the canyon walls. Combined with the both sickening and satisfying squashing sounds of Coffins being crushed under boulders, it was a terrifying sight.

Getting himself back under control, he dropped back into his seat and held the grenade launcher in his lap. Looking around, he could see that the danger was not over yet. The creatures were dead, but a different kind of coffin was closing in on them now, in the form of collapsing rock walls. Holding on tight to the side of the buggy, he shouted at the goblin to step on it.

Gazing on in awe, Elias watched the effects of the grenade. Death was encompassing the entire canyon. The coffins didn't stand a chance against the forces of nature itself. Boulders were crushing them left and right and hellfire was swallowing them whole. It was a sight that a man could watch for hours.

His companion's shouting stirred him from his daze. These boulder's were raining down EVERYWHERE in the canyon, and the small buggy wouldn't stand much of a chance if they were to be hit. A small rock whizzed past his head at a speed that would have punctured his skull. Taking this as a cue, Elias ducked down and hid behind the buggy's siding. "Mind getting us outta here Baek? Like, now!?"

"Shit, shit, SHIT!" In times of panic, Baek was fond of cursing mindlessly. It was a crude way to vent his frustration, but it worked.
"Shove a stick up my ass the size of the Arendes Ocean why don't you?!"
He brought the buggy a good few feet to the left as a boulder dug a crater into the ground they were previously at. It wasn't long before another boulder, followed by another, and a couple of smaller ones, landed like artillery in spots Baek dodged with his reflexes thrown to the brink. Strangely though, with all cursing aside, Baek was enjoying himself under the angry snarl. This was the life he lived after leaving his pit of a home town, the life he would always live till the end of his days. The euphoria, the adrenaline, the money, Baek would be lying to himself if he said that feeling of anticipation in the next big cash in wasn't always within him.

But time to think long and hard of where his life was leading was for another day alltogether, because two very unpleasant things came at the party with a whallop. For starters, it seemed that the head honcho of the Coffins did a magnificent job of surviving the killing zone, and was killing distance between the buggy and itself.
"What the-" Baek and the party held themselves to something to avoid leaving the buggy as it had a few seconds in the air before landing to the ground with a thud.. A sharp change of elevation showed something that brought Baek's steady stream of cursing to frantic gibberish. It was a cave, and a very dark one at that.

Sarrisan saw the cave too, and felt like cursing just as much as Beak, though he held his tongue. He also saw the large Coffin charging after them, and decided that it was more important, since it would reach them before they reached the cave. Planting his right foot against the floor of the buggy, and his left knee on his seat, he turned and faced behind them, aiming his pistol at the bastard. "Elias, shoot that thing! There's only one, so it shouldn't prove too much of a problem." Answering his own shout, he quickly emptied all six of his bullets into the creatures face, but it still kept on coming. Damn. It was alright to swear in his head, he supposed.

Turning his head back to the front of the car, he took a glance at the cave as he began reloading. Damn, damn, damn. It was an awfully small opening, one that made Sarrisan feel a bit claustrophobic all the way here, but it should be large enough... alright, that was the only thing to do. He flicked his wrist, closing the chamber on his gun, and with his other hand pointed at the cave. "Alright, boss, time to show what kind of driving skills you have! Aim this thing right into the cave, go into it as far as you can, but stop before you ram us into a wall." He turned to Dashal, "I'll need you to be ready again, as well. I know you're probably tired, but you're going to have to bring down that cave opening without killing us, if possible. I don't think bullets are going to be as useful on this bastard now following us as they were on his friends. Can you do that?" Without waiting for an answer he began shooting at the Coffin again.

"Shouldn't be a problem!" Dashal replied almost instantaneously. It wouldn't be hard to just dislodge a couple of small rocks, it would start a chain reaction and bring parts of the cavern itself down, but it was really their only choice. They neared the cavern entrance, and Dashal got up on his seat again, focusing on the entrance. He could see a few loose rocks, but he needed something bigger.

"Change of plans!" he yelled to the group. He turned around and searched the canyon walls this time. A sizable boulder, just about as big as the cave entrance, was falling out of the wall. "Perfect..." he whispered to himself, and he grabbed it just before it hit the ground. And just at that moment, darkness surrounded him; they had entered the cavern. The boulder was still behind the giant coffin and Dashal started to panic. He pulled the boulder as hard as he could with his remaining strength and it slowly started moving forward, then faster, until it slammed right into the coffin, knocking it off course, and sped right towards them. An earsplitting crack was heard as the boulder lodged right into entrance, and then split apart like glass.

"SHIT!" he screamed, losing his temper. "SON...OF...A...BITCH!!!!" he screamed, the pure magic releasing from him throwing rocks and dirt everywhere, and his hair blowing all around his head. He had entered a rage, releasing adrenaline, and when mages did that it was never pretty. He pulled rocks and boulders off of the ceiling of the cave and seemingly out of no where, throwing them at the entrance that the coffin was just nearly entering. Enough had been thrown to block the coffin coming it, but it didn't give up, and started slamming itself into the rocks to create a passage. "DIE!!!!" he screamed with rage, and an inferno, nearly alike the one created by the grenade, erupted from the air around Dashal and moved towards the coffin, incinerating all but the ground and them. It seemed to have worked because no noises were heard afterwards.

Dashal started to calm down, breathing normally again. He looked around at his companions, stunned by what he had just done. but couldn't see a single one of them. His vision was fading, and his mind clouding, and then he fell. He felt as if he was falling through a black void, and then he felt a sharp pain on his back and heard someone yell, "He's unconscious!" And as he faded from this world, he entered his own. He dreamt of nightmares beyond his normal understanding, wishing to wake up again and again. But the real world wouldn't come, and he fell deeper and deeper into his own dreams, almost like he was falling again...

((Hope this is ok? Didn't mean to unbalance things, but I was bored and being a bit creative...>_>))