Scarabs and Manti, Oh My!

Veering off the trade way after a few more hours, the progress of the caravan notably slowed. Where once they traversed a fairly well kept road way they were now forced to weave amongst the shifting dunes. The sand easily shifted under the weight of the wagons forcing the team leaders to guide rather than drive their charges, one misstep could easily see the horses or the very wagon itself being sent for a potentially disastrous tumble.

Still, neither the merchant nor his crew seemed overly impeded by the fact they were to traverse the sands, each taking to their tasks with quiet ease, though the mercenary guards were not so fortunate. More than one found what had appeared to be solid footing suddenly disintegrate under their weight. The lucky ones merely went for a tumble, often finding themselves sat at the bottom of what looked to be a solid hill of silt. One unfortunate soul learned the dangers of the desert first hand. The young green rank, much like the others, had been sent on a tumble. Unlike the others as the young man rose to climb up the treacherous slope the silt around him exploded in motion. A black carapaced scorpion, easily the size of a healthy bull erupted from beneath the sand. Before the unfortunate fellow could mount a defense the vicious stinger had plunged into his chest hoisting the doomed man from his feet.

Before others could reach him the giant scorpion had tunneled back into the sand, the man's weak cries given a sudden and final silence as a mound of moving silt rushed off for the deeper wastes. The adventurers had glanced around warily, no longer daring to charge down the slippery slope, wary now of other beasts lurking at the bottom of each dune. This painful reminder der that the desert was not to be underestimated sobered up the others post haste, those that had made tumbles of their own thanked the Saint that their own ending was but mere embarrassment.

As for Alexander, he along with Melissa, Winston, Watson, and Laytalya had stayed in the priestess' wagon. Alexander had been peppering the trio with more questions about the tomb and what the general situation of the outpost was. While the trio were considered an orange rank group they had been given little detail of their mission other than they had requested a decently powerful cleric to help manage the dead of the tomb. When asked who 'they' were, Melissa had informed them that there was another group coming. Like theirs it was a three person setup, a cleric from the main branch and two body guards. Still, information was strictly on a need to know basis and beyond that, Melissa didn't need to know.

That first night in the desert was the worst most had experienced. Much like the day, another green rank vanished from the patrol route. Unlike the victim of the scorpion this one did not even scream. When a patrol took twice the time to reach a set mark the alarm was sounded. Extra torches were lit and the guards searched the stretch of patrol the young woman had gone missing on. They did not have to go far. Apparently the lass had needed to relieve herself so stepped further out, near as any could figure while squat behind a cactus a scarab had crawled onto her, wether it was poison or just something about the bug make up she had likely not felt anything even as the swarm had devoured her alive.

Well almost. She was still technically alive when they found her. Much of her skin and meat was gone, her voice box had long been devoured, it seemed to be something the bugs targeted specifically first so prey could not alert the herd. The bugs didn't even react as another guard plunged his sword through the exposed muscle of the woman's chest to pierce her chest. Still it was another pointed reminder that this desert did not welcome outsiders... the slightest lapse in judgement and it would eat you alive... quite literally. The next morn her companions reported there was naught but bone and gear left, but they could not even collect those as the scarab had built a nest in the ribcage and they feared setting the bugs upon themselves.

As the wagons set out again, more than one set of eyes were cast towards that cactus, seemingly harmless amongst others dotting the dunes but all were marking its distinct shape as the future site of a flesh eating scarab nest.

The living had more pressing concerns though as the sun rose into the sky clear of clouds. The relentless heat beat down upon the caravan like a blacksmiths hammer. Slamming against the heated length crossing an anvil of sand. The caravan was slower now. Two deaths in a single day of abandoning the trade way hung like the reapers sickle over everyone's necks. The guards were jumpy, often checking behind them and jumping at the hint of a differing sound. In many cases this was nerves but in one it saved another young woman, she had been taking a careful sip of her canteen when a rush if wind had sounded, ducking low and lifting her blade had saved her life, her blade had intercepted the scythe like arm of a man sized mantis, its exoskeleton the same hue of the desert sand. With a cry the other guards were quick to her aid and dispatched the bug, but even thus victory denied them hope, for as the bug fell, their eyes practically fell out of their skulls when two more beasts separated from a near by dune and flew away from the alert caravan.

More than one was voicing going back the way they had come but that was impossible. The border check point was destroyed and its well fouled. Even if they made it out of the desert safely they'd be out of water before tomorrow and be dead of thirst or beasts before they could return to Colter. The oasis should be reached by tomorrow eve, yes they'd be out of water but with the water there even if it was occupied they could handle that problem. Reluctantly the dissenters agreed to continue, but more than one was looking at the merchant with murder on their minds. Alexander could well see this journey had broken a number of the guards, even the slightest ill wind would see these people either abandon the caravan, stealing what they could before leaving or killing their employer and doing the same.

Everyone was on edge the third day, many of the drivers and guards were nervous wondering how next the blasted land would try to murder them. The merchant himself was nervous about failing his mission, a hit to his reputation would mean less money in his coffers and these damn fools were dragging their heels! Alexander and Melissa were watching the two sides constantly in conflict, while Melissa was also concerned about completing her task she could well see the rookies were pushed too far. Between the grisly deaths and the merchants uncaring greed, those young adventurers were being pushed unreasonably hard. A wiser leader would have baited the stick with a carrot of some sort, but this merchant only hurled curses and threats.

Alexander watched it warily. Should the conflict erupt the caravan would be dissolved and he'd be stuck with the priestess to guide him south. The merchant was an ass but he was a capable driver too. In the low light of the evening the distant sign of foliage could be seen over a dune, the man had no charitable skills to speak off but wayfinding came to the arrogant prick as easy as breathing. Still everyone could tell the caravan was in a precarious position. With the possibility of bandits waiting at the oasis would the group see them divided between those that wanted water and those seeking duty? Alexander really couldn't say. His fellow low rangers had been pushed way too hard, if the merchant even breathed the thought of handing any over again they'd likely gut the man and leave him for the buzzards... not that he'd seen even a single vulture since entering the desert. Birds seemed especially rare down this way...

Still the caravan ambled on, a deathly pall hanging like a shroud over the travellers. Depressed and fearful as the green ranks were they still kept their wits about them. While in the hours since breaking camp had seen a couple of near encounters the deaths of the first day had not seemed likely to continue now these inexperienced warriors had been taught the harsher lessons of this environment. Still, the edge did not leave them, thoughts of facing a bandit camp at the oasis drifted through each tired weary body. At least it was a threat that one and all could relate to unlike gigantic insects and murderous beetles.

Still the desert seemed to want to continue catching the caravan off guard. As the wagons approached the oasis there were tents surrounding it... yet not a soul moved amongst them. No outsiders with demands, no force of armed thugs came to stop their progress. Rather one could almost claim it a ghost town. Signs of habitation persisted, oil lamps still burned, half finished meals were found in more than one tent. Yet the people were simply gone. Same for their mounts, usually a base would have some left in reserve yet the corrals were empty, still gated and tied off as if horses or camels or whatever should be inside still... yet no beasts.

Even more disturbing, each guard reported that there were no signs of conflict. No hurried packing of treasures, no spilled food and drink, not even a speck of spilled blood. It was as if the bandits situated here had simply winked out of existence. Still the merchant wasn't concerned, driving his wagons right into the main access towards the waters. Some feared the small watering hole had been fouled or poisoned but such was not the case, it was clear and refreshing slacking thirst and renewing hope. Yet the nagging feeling that this whole situation was wrong pulled at them.

Alexander consulted Melissa but she shrugged helplessly. The church did have reports of similar situations. When she had mentioned exploration scouts vanishing it had been much the same situation. Camps undisturbed yet seemingly abandoned mid action. Unlike here those sites had been partly buried by the shifting sand so whatever had happened was a recent thing. Seeing a site in pristine condition made her and the brothers go into full catalog mode, eager to see if a hint of the former mystery could be deciphered with a relatively fresh scene.

Alexander kept close to Laytalya who was in full scavenger mode much like many of the green ranks. Being a bandit camp wealth was not uncommon in the tents. The fact these treasures had been abandoned made most nervous but what could they do? The former owners were gone and were bandits so stealing from thieves didn't even hinder a single person's morals. Even less so when they saw these windfalls as hazard pay for the stress of the job! The merchant himself had claimed the largest tent for his own spoils, likely the leaders it surprised no one that the fat bastard quickly shifted a lock box from the tent to his personal wagon.

Just as thing seemed to be going right for once a cry broke through the excitement of the air, "Has anyone seen Gunther and Viv?!"

The shouter said he'd lost the pair about an hour ago, he figured the pair had ducked into the cleared tents for a little stress relief so didn't think anything of it originally but Gunther's guard shift was looming so his friend had tried to find the amorous pair, yet poking into each if the tents where last he had seen them gad revealed not a sign, well except for Viv's canteen, that had been found in a tent leaking out amongst some cushions which prompted the guy to put out a call. The caravan quickly spread out checking tents and the sands to see if the couple foolishly went for a bed of sand but much like the bandits... the pair was simply gone.

Worse still as the searchers returned another two of the green rankers had gone missing. A quick search in their quadrant of the camp revealed nothing. Much like the others the latest two were just gone. People were now truly spooked. The reassurance of water and the windfall of loot were quickly forgotten as the caravan gathered, their weapons pointed outwards in all directions, wary of whatever foe was abducting their people.

Alexander frowned to himself, they were missing something. People didn't just vanish, certainly not warriors and bandits! There would be resistance even if they were caught with their pants around their ankles. There SHOULD be signs of conflict... yet the camp was exactly the same as when they arrived. Wait. That wasn't possible... was it?