Roderick Geller is sneaking among boulders on a hillside taking a detour towards the road between Sky Scar Lake and the delta, in as far as you could call that a road. He is too young to grow much of a beard. His gear is enchanted or conjured. It is dirty, but not chaffed. His hair and face show the signs of the voyage, mainly dust, sand and sweat.
His eyes are clear, yet detached. His face, indifferent. From time to time he vanishes in the shadow of a boulder to reemergence hundreds of meters ahead. The sinking sun provides shadows aplenty. In between he advances with a loping gait. He has been using the mornings and afternoons to cover a lot of ground. The first day he ran all day long, keeping himself fresh with spirit coins, forgoing water. In theory an essence user can substitute spirit coins for water indefinitely. In practice at Iron 0 that would require great wealth. The nights, who had been his friend, he has since been spending under the protection of a concealing ritual. He does not question the continued need for his caution. He does not question anything since what he calls the slaughter to himself.
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Lykha awakens from a sensation a human would call a tingle. Somebody has emptied a bucket of water over her. It will preserve her skin, but disgustingly it is sweet water. She can feel the lack of salt. She keeps her gills closed. With a collar on and chained to the ground, she can do nothing but stare at the person in the cloak observing her, for they are alone in this dungeon room.
Her head hurts, not from the bolt of force hitting she got on it as they were captured, but from her mana reserves being spent during their capture and not replenishing due to the collar. Her kind is not thought of well among the other races of Pallimustus. She does not care to correct the general misunderstandings about her race. Yes, they are emotional, but no, that is not the reason they do not build cities. They just do not have the instincts to cooperate outside a small group. To work for the status these races care so much about, tricking themselves into thinking that they are working for money.
She feels a desire to kill to avenge Chodhen, whose aura she felt winking out of existance.
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Olutha Lassalle does not stop, ignoring the obvious alarm. The plan calls for her to be noticed and she is not going to give people she does not trust any more time to effectively respond to an alarm than she has to. She does stretch out her hands to her sides with the palms turned downwards as is customary for a envoy.
Two women holding halberds like you would hold a stick confront her. Draconians, even if they are on the short side for Draconians, are intimidating. However, what is the other one? Even if this were an illusion, why not pick a real species?
L: Whatever that metal style bear is, it has a strange aura. It is neither a monster nor an essence user
Z: Stop talking! We need to secure the camp!
L: No, we do not, this won’t be a lone wanderer. We need to flee or handle this peacefully.
Zora says nothing.
L: Hello! Greetings to you. We have come in peace.
Z: How about you also do the Vulcan greeting?
L: Stay serious.
Z: Yes, if we stay serious, one of us better watch out for other intruders using this distraction.
L: Well, you do that then.
They are speaking an alien tongue. They are nervously glancing at her fergax summons, having taken up a position a few meters behind and to the side of her ready to pounce. A derisive sound is building up in Olutha’s long, yet delicate, finely chiseled nose. But it would be wrong to let oneself be disarmed with hilarity.
„Good stealth, boys. You got them from behind. You can take the lizard lady first. She looks like she has a lot of fire inside her.“ - No reaction. Any woman would have reacted to that. They really don’t understand a word. Yet they are essence users. Even her very limited aura senses pick that up.
Z: Whom is she yelling at?
L: I think she subscribes to the idea that foreigners understand you, if only you talked loud enough.
Zora produces the potion vial and a monster core. She makes a motion of slowly extending the hand with the core and pulling the hand with the potion towards herself.
Olutha would have almost attacked as objects appeared in the Draconian’s hands. That looks like a pantomime. An offer to exchange stuff? This is above her pay grade. She raises her hand and performs a sign to call her team mates in, not talking her eyes off the strangers, just in case.