Ti'Zok waited silently in his quarters. One of the ship serfs had been by to alert him to their imminent arrival at 'The Monastery' a short while ago. His rooms had been stripped bare, and all decorations and signs of his status had been removed. A simple cot had replaced his overstuffed and cushion-covered bed. The gold table coated in precious gems had been taken, and a small, plain metal desk had replaced it. His NIL's systems had also been shut down.

His wardrobe of elaborate robes of Zem'Zilk and golden thread had been taken. His piercings and jewelry of precious gems had been removed, and all signs of his former status as the scion of a great merchant house were gone. Now, he wore only a simple loincloth of leather.

He wanted to rage and scream at the injustice of it all, at the destruction of his lifestyle. He suspected though, that even now he was being watched. So here he sat on his cot, leaning against the wall. With nothing to do he stewed in his anger and frustration over his unjust fate.

'The Monastery' was considered the last chance for those who had shown themselves to be completely hopeless as scions of the Itzli Merchant Houses. No details had ever been discovered on what happened there. Those who were sent there often never returned, and those who did refused to speak of it. Its mere existence was used to motivate Itzli more interested in indulging in their privileges. Even the location of the place was secret. Any ship sent there had its navigation system overridden, and its logs wiped.

A buzzer sounded, and Ti'Zok stood as his door opened revealing a pair of Kekoan guards along with a single Itzli serf waiting for him. Leaving his rooms, they escorted him to the shuttle docks of what had once been his cruiser. Now, the crew averted their faces at his passing, not out of any sign of respect, but because to them he did not exist. Until he had proven himself and regained at least some of his status, he had no worth.

Approaching the docks, he was surprised to see a trio of Varnava waiting for him outside the single, docked shuttle. The exchange was performed in silence, the serf held out a data pad that the lead Varnava pressed the manipulator of one of their arms to. The serf and Kekoan guards then turned and left the docks, leaving him alone with the religious bugs.

The silence continued as the lead Varnava gestured for him to board. The shuttle was a bare metal box inside. There were no seats, the only safety precautions being crash netting on the walls to strap yourself to. The lead Varnava disappeared into the cockpit as the other two stood guard outside of it.

A slight jolt and rumble as they detached were the only indication Ti'Zok had that they had departed. There were no windows for him to look out. A short while later, Ti'Zok felt the beginnings of atmospheric turbulence and planetary gravity. Soon enough, he felt the shuttle set down, and the pilot reappeared from the cockpit.

Stepping off the shuttle, he was met by a dry, hot wind that seemed to suck the moisture right off his scales. It was evening wherever he was, a hazy red star providing dim light in a yellow sky.

He was standing on a hill overlooking a valley. In the distance, he could see a walled compound surrounded by fields with a stream providing fresh water cutting through them. A dusty path wound its way down the side of the hill into the valley, and one of the Varnava prodded him towards it with one of their blade-arms.

The path was steep and covered in loose gravel that made progress slow. Ti'Zok's ponderous girth and short legs made things even more difficult on the steepest parts of the path. He saw piles of bones along the sides of the path the further he progressed, and to his horror, he recognized them as the remains of Itzli who had come before. Those who slipped and fell or could not keep going and were abandoned to die were left as a message for those who came after. There would be no respite or mercy here.

The unrelenting heat beat down on his head as he made his way down the trail. If it was still this hot at twilight, he could only imagine how hot it must be during the height of the day. His minders at least seemed content to let him set the pace. He slipped and slid his way further down the hill, his thick reptilian tail dragging behind him leaving a trail in the dust, and the gravel scratching and tearing at the soft scales of its underside. More skeletons alongside the road, their leering skulls reinforcing the reminder of what failure would bring.

He didn't know how long he had been walking, and he dared not stop to try and check his progress. His entire being was focused on making it down this hillside. His scales itched, lacking the moisture to stay soft and flexible. They were becoming brittle, exposing the fragile hide beneath to the dust and grit kicked up by his passing.

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The ground was beginning to even out. Large boulders dotted the sides of the trail, and Ti"Zok had no doubt that had he attempted to run down the hillside, he would have shattered himself on them like many of the other broken and destroyed skeletons he could see. He could not see any sign of the compound or stream now. By his guess, the trail had led him around the hill to the far end of the valley. Now it was a test of endurance to reach the water before he died.

The dusty rocks of the hillside had given way to a field of tall grass. The trail disappeared into it and vanished. If Ti'Zok's NIL had not been disabled, he could have simply used its built-in compass to keep his bearings. Without it, he had only his own sense of direction and the setting sun to guide him.

Ti'Zok kept moving, he refused to die here as just another skull atop the mountain of failures that had come before him. Either he would reach the water and live, or die trying. Spite and sheer hard-headed stubbornness fueled him now. He would prove them all wrong, he was going to survive and make them regret it.

His breath came in dry wheezing gasps now, as he stumbled through the grassy fields. An Itzli's body was not built for arid environments. They had evolved on a wet, tropical world that had left them with biology ill-suited for anything else. His body struggled to retain moisture, designed more for wicking it away in the dense humid jungles and shallow tropical marsh-oceans of the homeworld, than retaining it. He was fighting not only the environment but also his own body.

Staggering, he tripped on a hidden knot of roots and collapsed into the grass. He could see the shadows of his minders surrounding him, watching him in silence. They didn't care if he died here, he would be just another failure on the pile forgotten as soon as they left him there. He growled, limbs shaking as he pushed himself to his feet. A fallen Itzli had trouble standing up in normal circumstances, their long torso and short legs demanding they practically throw themselves off the ground and catch themselves with their tail.

"Raagh!" With a cry of effort, rage, and determination Ti'Zok threw himself off the ground.

Standing unsteadily on his feet, he pushed onwards. Breathing through his nose to help preserve what moisture in his body he had left, his lungs heaved like great bellows. A copse of short, spiny trees entered his field of view. He remembered briefly seeing small trees from the top of the hill by the stream. Life-giving water was only a few hundred paces away.

Pulling forth the last dregs of his power, Ti'Zok waded through the dense grass separating him from his salvation. This would not stop him, nothing here would stop him from taking back what he had lost, and then he would take from them what they had taken from him. Finally, bursting through the final distance of thick grass he arrived on the banks of the stream.

Ti'Zok desired nothing more than to dive into the inviting depths of the stream. However, wiser thought prevailed. With his weakened body it was likely he would drown as the result of such a rash course of action. He settled for the undignified course of action of laying upon the bank and submerging his elongated snout into the cold waters of the stream. The water washed over him as he drank, and drank, and drank. Finally, having had his fill, he pulled himself to his feet with the help of a nearby tree and turned to his observers who continued to stand silently, watching him.

There was still some distance to go until the compound, but Ti'Zok felt more confident now. Moving along the bank of the stream where the grass was thinner, he kept a fast pace in an attempt to keep himself warm. It was growing colder as the last sliver of the star slipped below the horizon. Twilight cast everything in shades of red, and the stream was now a river of blood.

Stopping only when he needed to drink, Ti'Zok soon left behind the long grass and entered the fields surrounding the compound. He kept to his path along the stream, only leaving it when the stream ran parallel to the compound itself after a last drink of water. The distance was not great, but the cold was seeping into his bones now despite his efforts, and he ran towards it as fast as he could manage on his stubby legs. His watchers were, as ever, silent shadows behind him across the fields.

Reaching the gates of the compound, Ti'Zok found a lone Varnava awaiting them. It was a strange being, both of their blade-arms were missing, and he could see where various cracks in their exoskeletal carapace had been repaired with a golden metal.

"You have made it farther than most, but you have taken only the first step of your journey. You have shown yourself to have the basic qualifications to redeem yourself, nothing more." The strange Varnava spoke perfect Itzlish, the strange buzzing accent of most of their kind completely absent.

"You come here with no name, you are dead to all who knew you. Only through success can you regain your life and name." One of Ti'Zok's watchers draped a plain robe over his shoulders that was such a dark shade of green it almost appeared black, the cold that had been seeping into his body disappearing in a instant leaving behind a pleasant warmth.

Ti'Zok was led into the silent compound of stone and straw and taken to a simple room. It was a small place, only wide enough for the cot along the wall. The door held no lock. What fear did they have of him escaping? There was nowhere to go in this arid hell, and none would rescue him.

"Sleep and prepare yourself, Nameless. Tomorrow you will begin the second step of your resurrection."