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Somewhere between Amol-Kalit and the Aberresai Savannah, things had gone horribly wrong. The journey to Maraan to collect intel was all good and fine, there had been no issues expect for the fact that Everleigh wished that the sun wasn’t so overbearing. While inside the major trade city, things were still fine. The proctor had trusted both Everleigh and Alistair to collect intel on their own, and they both had succeeded in various ways. They stayed another night, made sure supplies were well-stocked for the second trek through the dessert to reach the savannah lands.
A discarded fortress from long ago, made of wood and clay and stone that blended in with the plateau mountains. There was only one region that even had plateaus and so while their journey was long, it was uneventful. They had only passed one caravan and it wasn’t even a big one. This trip was turning out to be boring, and Everleigh detested nothing more than boredom, especially when the mission details were so interesting. Something about a cult and possibly the fact that there was an exiled dreadlord among them. It was quite clear that they weren’t supposed to go and attack, they just needed to confirm what they saw and possibly collect evidence, then head straight back to Vel Anir.
One would think that some sort of action would happen on this trip— and much to Everleigh’s delight, in finally appeared in the form of a Crimson Sarvik. The fortress was just in sight once they got through the slight maze of sand coated rock walls. They were just figuring out how it would be best to reach the plateau the fort was on— after all, there had to still be a safe way up other than climbing— when the sarvik reared up it’s ugly head, their voices waking it up from it’s hibernation. Or maybe it’s hibernation period was over.
Everleigh didn’t know or care as the powerful beast leaped and seized their proctor’s camel haunch, it’s thick, eight-inch claws tearing into their proctor. Could she have tried to save the proctor? Sure, she could’ve. But years at the academy had taught Everleigh early on that it was every man for themselves and with a glance at Alistair as her camel began to freak out and run, the poison eater knew exactly what to do. She leaped off from the camel, thankful that she had worn the pack of supplies and clung onto the wall. She could only hope as their proctor screamed and cursed at them that when the sarvik was finished with that meal, it would chase after the camel.
Beginning her ascent up the slight, small cliff, she was grateful that there did seem to be a decent amount of footholds. Not enough, and the sand caused some footholds to be too slippery to grasp safely while others seemed to crumble away at being touched. The proctor’s ended and Everleigh glanced down, roughly twenty feet above the ground now. She then quickly looked back up. Somehow twenty feet didn’t feel safe, even with the sarvik tearing into the feast below. It wouldn’t be long until it finished, and so Everleigh continued onward, sure that Alistair was following suit.
Somewhere between Amol-Kalit and the Aberresai Savannah, things had gone horribly wrong. The journey to Maraan to collect intel was all good and fine, there had been no issues expect for the fact that Everleigh wished that the sun wasn’t so overbearing. While inside the major trade city, things were still fine. The proctor had trusted both Everleigh and Alistair to collect intel on their own, and they both had succeeded in various ways. They stayed another night, made sure supplies were well-stocked for the second trek through the dessert to reach the savannah lands.
A discarded fortress from long ago, made of wood and clay and stone that blended in with the plateau mountains. There was only one region that even had plateaus and so while their journey was long, it was uneventful. They had only passed one caravan and it wasn’t even a big one. This trip was turning out to be boring, and Everleigh detested nothing more than boredom, especially when the mission details were so interesting. Something about a cult and possibly the fact that there was an exiled dreadlord among them. It was quite clear that they weren’t supposed to go and attack, they just needed to confirm what they saw and possibly collect evidence, then head straight back to Vel Anir.
One would think that some sort of action would happen on this trip— and much to Everleigh’s delight, in finally appeared in the form of a Crimson Sarvik. The fortress was just in sight once they got through the slight maze of sand coated rock walls. They were just figuring out how it would be best to reach the plateau the fort was on— after all, there had to still be a safe way up other than climbing— when the sarvik reared up it’s ugly head, their voices waking it up from it’s hibernation. Or maybe it’s hibernation period was over.
Everleigh didn’t know or care as the powerful beast leaped and seized their proctor’s camel haunch, it’s thick, eight-inch claws tearing into their proctor. Could she have tried to save the proctor? Sure, she could’ve. But years at the academy had taught Everleigh early on that it was every man for themselves and with a glance at Alistair as her camel began to freak out and run, the poison eater knew exactly what to do. She leaped off from the camel, thankful that she had worn the pack of supplies and clung onto the wall. She could only hope as their proctor screamed and cursed at them that when the sarvik was finished with that meal, it would chase after the camel.
Beginning her ascent up the slight, small cliff, she was grateful that there did seem to be a decent amount of footholds. Not enough, and the sand caused some footholds to be too slippery to grasp safely while others seemed to crumble away at being touched. The proctor’s ended and Everleigh glanced down, roughly twenty feet above the ground now. She then quickly looked back up. Somehow twenty feet didn’t feel safe, even with the sarvik tearing into the feast below. It wouldn’t be long until it finished, and so Everleigh continued onward, sure that Alistair was following suit.