Year 765 The Storm Crawler Charge

The sea captain obsesses about this some more until the sun sparsely lit the jungle around them. Azar is the first to wake, peevishly stretching out his frame. After what is assumed to be years of fighting and training, the mahogany skin barely hid this mage’s muscle definitions and with no shirt it is like he is never shy about it. It begs the question on how the mage could manage to sleep on that root without getting any splinters.

“EH! So, we are still here…?” Azar gripes, sliding right off the root with a sourpuss face. The male twists the lax of his pants and water drips out. “Everything is wet...why do they like wet so much?”

Connor understands his complaints, even sitting down with Rhea he can feel his cloak soak through. He just endures it since he didn't want to wake his wife. Even now he glares at the mage trying to silence him with just that. But that never works on Azar if anything that just riles him up.

“Your people are a bunch of water masochists!” The Vhaltian hoots, now smirking just to spite Connor. I loathe him.

Rhea twitches awake, brawling away the sleep. The peace long gone from her face. She blinks even grumpier than the Vhaltian, “And your people lick sand, what of it?”

Connor pinches the bridge of his nose; he should have just left these two back on the ship. This is not the place for foolishness. Mages now beyond help, the captain stood up moving away from whatever the two start arguing about.

He investigates their perimeter, using his sword to swipe away the foliage. Checking the ground for any footprints he is relieved to have not found anything. He had been up all night, but his level of attention may have not been suited for guard watch.

Rhea must have noticed what he is doing because she snuck up to him right away. “The clan should be far away right now.”

He nods in acknowledgement, but his mind reprimands his lack of attention anyway. There is still no room for error, “Let us hope.”

“It would be boring without them.” Azar's voice invaded Connor’s mind, and it took all he could muster not to snap at him. It isn’t worth the waste of energy.

Rhea did all the glaring for him anyway. Connor froze when his ears caught the faintest sounds of crunching in the distance. He slips in front of Rhea, since she only had a dagger with her this time, pointing his pistol towards the sound. The Vhaltian follows his gaze and tenses for action. He can feel Rhea's annoyance, but it did not matter to the captain if he offends her. He did try to get her to pick out any other weapon at the ship, but she is too stubborn to accept anything but a bow.

The crunches evolve to rustling leaves and a person emerges from the foliage. A particular woman with a hunter’s hat sitting on top of her blond head, fully garbed with weapons from a spear that is longer than her height to dual pistols strapped to her waist. There is a strange reptilian creature draped around her neck, with a colorful array of feathers on its wings. The thing's golden eyes locked on the three and bared its venomous fangs at them, its scale shifting all kinds of colors. Her armor with the insignia of the Saoirse family emblem gave her identity away and Connor at once drops his aim.

 “Jerilyn…”

The blond picked her head up to look at all of them and shushes her creature friend. “Ignore Trost, he’s overprotective. Good morning ya’ll. By chance have you seen a big hulking armored beast called the Rheno?”

“No” Rhea cut in very quickly, moving around Connor with arms crossing. “You have better luck at higher ground.”

“Perfect, means I gotta fend off more of the sick then. See you lovelies around!” Jerilyn moves, giving them the signature wink send off. This is when Connor steps in to stop her.

“What do you mean the sick?”

The blond raises her brow, her green orbs scanning their faces as if amazed that none of them knew. Once she confirms she clears her throat to continue, “You must have been away for some time. A plague has surfaced and infected the creatures and people here. It’s the yellow madness, the infected become these crazed homicidal beasts that won’t stop until they kill. It started about two weeks ago, hence why the empire is here.”

The yellow madness?

The captain grows rigid, that explains why there are more guards at the gate. His wife did not waver her attention on the other female, but he could tell that she is a bit nervous. She probably has never experienced this.

The Vhaltian mage smirks, seeing the thrill in this pandemic more than a hindrance. He is the next one to speak but his intentions are not the soundest, “Great! Can we go now?”

“Isn’t it great, sweetness? Sure, makes the hunt ever more challenging.” The huntress purrs and for that instant Connor caught the glimpse of the blood thirst in her eyes. The typical Saoirse blood thirst.

Azar must have seen it too since now he is giving the new female more of his attention, unusual for someone they just met.

Connor’s brow twitches in response, he is ready to take his chances, but a pandemic is still a pandemic. With fire they can just burn the infected away, assuming that the infection is spread more through physical contact based on the behavior of the victims.

“Rhea, lead the way. Set fire to anything that fits that description.”

Rhea pulls her plump lips taut on her face, looking like she was reconsidering the option to take him back to the ship instead. However, she knows better than to object now. Connor will not stop his progress over a strange infection. She did as told and power through the foliage confidently.

The rest follow the female, Jerilyn self inserted herself in the group for now.

A part of him wanted to tell her to buzz off since associating himself to a Saoirse can be more harmful than good. He knew of them as a warmongering island continent completely west of Yventle, and back in the days of Spice wars the Empire hired these people to destroy their enemies, and they did so with a big ole grin on their faces. Now, they are mercenaries or body hunters all craving for another war to sprout. The Empress of the Chimera Empire always has a Saoirse with her. But since there is no war, they resolved in drinking heavily instead. Rumor has it that even under the influence they are still as powerful.

Jerilyn must have sense his apprehension and interrupts his thought process. “Since we are all going in the general direction, I never got your names!”

She sounds genuinely harmless, but Connor is still suspicious. He had no intention to humor her. However, he should have considered that Azar is not on the same page.

“I go by Azar, that angry nobody is Connor and the Krax is Rhea.” The mage snide remarks rub Connor the wrong way. It results in Connor pretending the foliage is Azar and slashing it away with his sword. His wife pushes on diligently since he is sure it doesn’t bother her that Jerilyn now follows them. He’d have to shed some light to her on where Jerilyn comes from and she would be at the same boat as him.

“I see…” The woman then whispers to Azar, “Why are they so serious?”
“I’m afraid their honeymoon phase has reached its end.”

“Alright enough with the chatter!” Barks a very bemused captain.