Scene: Midmorning in a busy square.
Rohan pushed the spiced rice around his bowl idly with his spoon, as if staring into it would reveal some solution. The smell from the dish was very sharp and cut through the stink of the crowd but it did little to clear his muddled mind. It was all so stupid anyway. The idea that a cure could come from some book no one has heard of was ridiculous. The real answer was simple: there is no cure. There couldn’t be! If there were, someone smarter would have discovered it by now and he would still be with his clan. In a way, the resolution to his current dilemma was similarly easy… They should just walk away and pursue more real rewards.
After leaving the Spotted Kank the group had stopped at a bazaar set up in a small square. Merchants claimed their space with colorful tents providing some respite from the blazing suns. Rohan bought the Nibanese rice dish and sat down against an intricately carved wall of a permanent storefront, hoping to quell the uneasiness in his stomach while his companions spread out looking through the wares. He looked up at them each in turn.
Zebulon slowly strolled through the plaza in some pattern that Rohan could not discern. He carefully examined each merchant’s wares for some oddity or antiquity that only he would recognize. Jelleneth was locked in a heated debate with some half elf about the price of his goods. Rohan couldn’t see from here what she was buying but it was probably some silk finery. She always seemed to be buying the best quality goods. Daine was nowhere to be found; although he was probably scheming someone out of their week’s wages.
When he turned to see K’TkTik Rohan was startled to see him staring right back. The Thri-kreen tilted his head oddly and held the dray’s stare for a moment before turning to watch the rest of his clutch. His protectiveness, no, loyalty was amazing. All of his new friends were strangely committed to helping him even though they had only recently banded together. That’s what made this situation so frustrating. He had convinced his new companions to help him on a wild mekilot chase.
Rohan’s gaze lingered on the bug’s gear strapped across his body. Most of the gear didn’t make any practical sense. He didn’t carry a bedroll, yet had numerous dasl crystal “sculptures” which swayed and clanked softly. Mok Toi’s scalp twisted along with the crystals with the bug’s abrupt movements. The strange tattoo on the halfling’s head was yet another mystery the dray could not unravel.
It was amazing really when one thought about it. Daine was seriously considering breaking into the High Companion’s personal library. Simply preposterous. One might as well charge into the giant sandstorm tearing through the plains to… to the.. East..
OF COURSE! The sandstorm! It all made sense now. The Red Scale mercenaries, the trails leading away from Mok Toi’s body, the “information” they were selling to the high companion. Like a jigsaw puzzle sliding together all the pieces seemed to fit. The “map” must be a safe path through maelstrom!
Rohan leaped to his feet splattering his rice on the caked ground. But before he could take a step Daine appeared at his side. “What’s got you all excited?” Daine drawled.
“I’ve got a plan. And you’re gonna love it!” Rohan replied. The twinkle had returned to the Dragon-man’s eyes.