The Lad and Lass, the Younglings of Clan Glora, stood together in the main workshop and storehouse of the Glora Clan. The only public property they claimed and would operate from. They had to finish preparing for their trip, their hunt towards the green dunes that lined the shores of the central river that bisected the continent.
“Rations?” The young wizard lad asked, a clipboard and list held in his hands. He was wearing a simple travel robe that hung down to his boots, hiding the lose cloth meant to protect him from the heat and sun. Around his waist was his components belt, stocked with what he would need for a more combat focused trip.
“Seven days' worth for us both.” The young fighter replied. She was clad in a similar manor, with her set of full plate packed squarely in a lightly magical haversack.
“Water?” The lad asks, marking it down and opening the pack at his feet. “An Apprentice Alchemy Jug and two extra skins.”
“Can’t we bring the normal one?” The lass grumbled as she looked around the massive mess of marked crates, finding the one they withdrew the jug from. “That only makes water, oil and sauce. It can’t even make something good to drink...”
“We are already bringing those weird fizzy drinks you love so much.” He lets out an exasperated sigh, looking down at the package of six glass bottles wrapped in her bed roll to protect them from breaking. “It is going to completely fill my pack to bring them. And I am not going to deal with you getting drunk again. Your birthday was proof enough why we won't be traveling with any alcohol.”
His hard glare and her blush of shame at the memory of the lass being taken out with their siblings to celebrate her sixteenth birthday was fresh in both their minds.
“Fine, jus’, jus’ keep goin’. Dag’s almost halfway through his rite, at this rate, he’ll be done ‘fore we can even leave the city.” The lass tried to fight through her blush, picking up and sliding her sidearms into the pouches on either side of the pack and on her hip.
The lad shook his head as he saw the shimmer of gun metal shine in his sister’s holster. He took the hint and sighed, taking the short barrel, lever action rifle and attaching it to his pack. Feeling like some bandit or soldier preparing for war rather than a distinguished wizard.
The two would finish up their packing, marking off the things they had and needed on their list. Before stepping out the back door, into the small yard where the forge for the clan was located. They walked between it and the building to a small, hidden alcove behind the forge and the building beside it. Where a small shrine to Madra was nestled.
The younglings knelt beside each other, the lad scratched a small piece of a white brick from his waist and brought it to the candles on either side of the statue of a neutral looking woman, holding in one arm a lamb and in the other a book. The statue within the small shrine was well crafted, with shadow filled eyes that would appear to move and observe around it as the flickering lights of the candles burned.
“All Mother Madra, please bless our next week of travel, and our hunt to come.” The lad spoke first as he sparked the candles to life.
“Guide us in yer ways of the hunt ‘n trackin’. For we need it most with our prey.” The lass brought her hands together and closed her eyes. Slowly she would begin to hum and then to sing softly, a prayer of hope and thanks.
The gnomish boy did not know the song, his family did not worship Madra, but of course respected her role in life and the world. And he resigned himself to listening. Looking upon the eyes of the statue that shifted in the shadow of the candle’s flames.
His eyes shifted from the statue’s eyes to its chest, and then to the source of the soft, calm voice that sang of starving mice and cats, brown grass and plants, and the struggle to survive until the next success. He couldn’t help a small smile from coming to his lips as he watched her’s move and curl. Sweet words and notes rising from them in the same way they did their goblin brother’s.
Once the song was over, the lass licked her fingers and snuffed out the candles. The pair stood up, bowing again to the shrine and leaving to set out towards the northeast.
They left the yard and exited the alley to the front of the shop. Where a dozen or so people, wet with sweat and annoyance waited for turns at the machines that distributed drinks and food. Most of those in line were laborers, finishing up after starting their work before dawn.
Together, they walked down the main street and towards the North Gate. And as they did, the gnome asked his sister.
“Have you been learning to sing from Spoke?” He asked, curious as she nodded in reply. “Did you feel that bad about your, um... performance on your birthday?”
The blush returned to the halfling’s face and she shook her head.
“Not really, Tanny’s been gettin’ lessons on talkin’ with Spoke.” Her brother tilter his head and squinted in further confusion. “Look, ya learn a lot from teachers and all that. Have ya ever felt awkward bein’ alone with them?” She gave her brother a minute to consider and he nodded, so she continued. “Spoke didn’t want Tanny to feel bad ‘bout takin’ a lesson from him. So he asked me if I also wanted to learn somethin’ too... And yeah, the singin’ was cus of my celebration...” She mumbled the last part and caused her brother to laugh softly.
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“Well, you are making a lot of progress. When you sang the prayer, I was considering shocking you to see if you were a doppelganger.” He got a growl and a playful smack to the back. “But seriously, you are improving.” He said while giving her an encouraging smile.
“Thanks... Does this mean we’re gonna get Spoke to teach ya how to dance and not face plant next?”
***
Exiting Barg’s Refuge was simple and fast. The two siblings walked, occasionally talking, bickering, and poking fun at each other. Just outside where there city was, were dunes of fine white and pink sands. Stretching on to turn white and yellow the further East you went. While to the west and north, as a traveler got closer to the Green Veins, the series of rivers that divided much of the continent, the dunes turned to green hills.
The two traveled for the first day, following the northern roads with other travelers. Each of them made sure to appear unremarkable, but not weak. Glares from the halfling sent multiple would be bandits running before they learned if the great sword across her pack was something she could properly use or not.
The northern road had started as cobble, but as miles wore on, slowly whittled down into solid and well-trod paths, slowly shifting from just sand to sandy dirt.
As the sun began to set, and after they had passed a small travel inn that marked the fifteen-mile mark, they pushed on until they found a rocky out cropping among the dunes to shelter at. The gnome immediately began to lay out an alarm spell, pulling a length of silver string from his belt and wrapping it around the rocks while muttering his incantations.
While the halfling inspected for danger. Shifting rocks, hitting boulders, trying to scare out any creatures that could disturb the two’s sleep. When she comes across something odd. In the shade of a large stone, in the fading light of day, she saw a doorway. A free-standing doorway. It had nothing on the other side, but looked as if someone had cut a door from a cottage and simply placed it here.
Getting an odd feeling, the warrior withdrew her sword, still in its wooden form. And slowly reached out the tip to ensure it wasn’t some illusion. When the wood made contact, the door wavered like a mirage for a moment, reformed into a solid, before dissolving into a puddle that was absorbed into the sands.
Making an executive decision, she turned around, sprinted for her brother, plucked him from where he was crawling on his knees, carving ruins in the sand, and kept on running. Making sure to grab his pack before abandoning the sight.
***
The morning after, around a mile down the road, the two teens wake up to the sensation of the ground rumbling beneath them. Fearing a stampede or herd of animals, they get up and glance about. Only to see in the distance, at the outcropping of stones from the dunes, rose a pillar of sand and dust. Where all the rocks were pulled under, and no hint of their presence would remain when the earth settled.
***
The two spend the day traveling, growing closer and closer to the Emerald Dunes where their target lay. Their first day of travel was quiet and simple. They had to trade packs, strapping the magical one to the lad as the weight of his full bag was slowing him more.
They passed a number of travelers, wagons, traders and adventurers heading towards or away from the city far in the distance now. The only one the duo stopped for, was an elderly human woman, who sat on a wide stone that had clearly been used as a landmark or bench for even longer than the woman had been alive.
Her hair was grey and wispy, puffed up and swaying in the subdued winds of the desert. With a warm smile, she thanked the small young lady who offered her a water skin. Taking a long sip, she returned it. Slowly, she stood and thanked the two kids for the small kindness, giving them both a small candy that neither of them could be sure of where it came from.
Unwrapping the candies, inside were a piece of hard candy and a hand drawn picture of a lioness’s head. Neither of them recognized it, but both agreed they were delicious fruity treats.
***
On their second full day of travel, they finally arrived at where they would leave the trail that continued to lead north, towards a subsidiary trading port of the Refuge.
The clan of slavers had described that their route had led them traveling across the boundary of the green hills and sand dunes, as more tribes congregated along the boundary more frequently there. They had acquired a number of slaves and were leading them to the road from where it naturally met their path. It took them and their clan of hundreds three days of travel to reach the road and finally lose the owl bear.
The two believed that it would take them around one more day of travel to reach that same area where it first attacked. Somewhere between the first tribe about four days travel along the boundary and the main northern road.
They set out and within an hour, came across a gathering of hunters and fur traders. The group of four, two adults and two children, were all some quantity of half to full orc. And seemed to be willing to talk.
The strangers described they were heading to the northern post to trade their monthly furs and get the two children, who would reach the age of maturity within the month, some proper equipment for hunting.
When asked for their story, the two said they were simply an adventuring brother and sister duo. Seeking to confirm the reports of a strange owlbear in the area. The children looked to their parents and the two adults frowned seriously.
“Youngin’s, you two best be careful.” The mother said softly, looking at them sternly with her dark eyes and yellowed fangs. “That thing will take lil’ ones like ya,” her hands reached out and snapped up a random bug flying between them. “And crush you like a lil’ bug.”
The two promised, saying they knew when not to fight, their own mother and father had beaten that into them over their training. Satisfied, the two groups would share a small lunch before departing. The orcs sung a tribal song, wishing them luck on their hunt.
“That was an ill omen.” The wizard said as the two walked, no longer able to hear the orcs far behind them. “It has only been a week, has it already made such a stir as to get random travelers watching out for it?”
“Maybe, but they could simply be one of the more well informed, these are the lands they hunt.” The fighter replied, shrugging her shoulders as the two silently decided they would not lower their guard. And would have to accept sleeping without fires until the owlbear was dead.