Alexander awoke to a splitting headache. He was lying on a bed roll in the back of a wagon, but beyond that the only information he could focus on was his brain trying to squeeze out of his skull through the pores on his forehead. Was this normal for over taxing is magic? Sure he was only a couple of weeks in this world but was his talent so pitiful that everything he tried to be grandiose he would end up feeling like roadkill? Stifling the groan of pain that threatened to spill from his lips, he sat up, looking around in a haze.
No longer laid flat out he could now ascertain the wagon was stopped. Mid day break, or had he laid unconscious full onto the next rest stop? Gritting his teeth, he staggered upwards, every movement made his head throb dangerously. He clutched the stability of a crate, fearing any attempt to stand on his own. His body was confused, along with the pain his stomach ached. Was he hungry or nauseous? He honestly couldn't tell, his body felt numb but gurgle with each staggered movement. Still, Alexander pushed through it, pulling open the flap and looking out.
As he expected the location had changed, they were closer still to the border, the distant hills of sand were now clearly visible, even the very ground was shifting from the scrub wasteland into a mix of barren ground and shifting silt. Guaging the distance they had another day, maybe two, before they crossed the border. Breathing deeply his stomach lurched into his throat, he bent over the side and expelled the stomach acid that had risen up the back of his throat. How the normally pleasant smell of cooking meat had made him sick at least verified that he was, in fact, nauseous. Good to know. Skipping the meal was a definite, but he'd have to find Laytalya for their water, the taste of fresh bile on his tongue was doing nothing to prevent a second upheaval.
Slumping down on the drivers seat he dropped his face into his hands, carefully wiping off his lips. If he lost any more he'd probably fall sick early in the desert. Better to nip this queasiness in the bud right now. Glancing around his eyes roamed the camp. Night was falling, the long shadows clutched the wagons as the main cook fire in the center sent out rays of light between. Just where was Laytalya? On patrol? He needed to find out just how much time had passed and what was going on. To be honest he was rather surprised he had made it to the wagon seat without Winston or Watson running off to fetch Melissa, she should be eager... or dreading... his awakening. It would only make sense someone should be observing his resting area.
Trying to climb down only nearly resulted in him kissing the dirt. His body was just not responding to his will. Hopefully it would pass quickly, the lurching in his belly was getting rather irksome and being weaker than a kitten meant if the brothers retaliated he'd be up shit creek without a paddle. As he staggered towards the central fire, angry voices raised to break the quiet of the evening. Melissa's sharp tongue as well as the merchants could easily be made out, but whoever they were talking or yelling at responded in a thickly accented tone. Alexander paused to catch his breath, leaning against one of the better wagons that made up the inner circle, the voices were clearer and definitely in heated debate.
Steeling himself, Alexander straightened up and slipped around the wagon, idly running his fingers through his hair. He grimaced feeling the knots and tangles, long journey without any inns meant there was little opportunity for proper maintenance thus he must look quite the brigand. As he entered the main area his eyes narrowed. Seeing the caravan people gathered with blades drawn wasn't a good thing, but even less do was the group opposite. Clad in robes from head to foot the gang of intruders looked like a bunch of those Tucan Raiders from the popular Space Wars in his old life. The leader was a brute carrying a falchion that could easily double as a cousin to Winston's axe. He stood with the blade casually draped over his shoulder watching as Melissa and the lead merchant were chewing each other out.
Alexander's eyes drifted around the caravan, he could see Watson and Laytalya amongst the guards with weapons drawn, but Winston was absent. Just where was that big bastard to not be here? Sighing to himself he stepped through the crowd, some jumping in surprise that someone was trying to get closer to the apparent cluster fuck between leaders. As he got closer he could make out the jist of what was happening. The big guy with the oversized sword was the local sheikh or at least, his representative, as expected the agreement reached between the merchant and the local big shot wasn't being honored by this minor would be desert noble.
Naturally since the caravan was about to intrude into his claimed (for the moment) land, the caravan was expected to pay a fee for free passage. This payment included letting him and his men entertain ten of the caravan women for the night, come morning they'd be returned (yeah right). Naturally the thug had pointed out choice picks not only selecting the rather busty Laytalya but also wanting Melissa herself. The merchant was all for obeying but as the one to be taken and most likely, defiled, Melissa had reasonable cause to oppose just being dragged off by these bandits.
Alexander sighed face palming. Wasn't this their exact concern when the mission was first adopted? Everyone and their sister knew that these lands were chopped up between warring bandit lords. A deal with one hardly would be honored by another... if the original didn't double cross the caravan outright themselves. Yet here it was, just on the border and already a bandit lord wanted to rape and pillage the group. Honestly, the fact the merchant thought he'd be allowed to go after the majority of females were taken just spoke of how little he understood this lawless land, even a half brain dead chimp could tell, as soon as a third of their forces were taken, the raiders would fall upon the men. After all... why let food and wine go by after they secured the women, better to enjoy all three!
Sighing and rubbing the fatigue from his face, Alexander finally pushed through joining up beside the merchant and Melissa, both gave shocked gazes at him for different reasons. The merchant was, in essence, his employer. By all rights he should be with the other guards. As for Melissa, due to their agreement he was in some senses her superior. The main shock came from both verifying he had been comatose some few hours ago, yet here he stood, a little tired looking but upright! Glancing between the two, Alexander strode forward looking at the leader of the opposing group, "And who are you? Sorry, I missed your introduction."
While the figures face was hidden by a thick wrap underneath his hood, the dark face with cold eyes was still slightly visible in the light of the camp fire. A pale scar crossed from under the cowl hood across a milky white eye and down under the mask. The remaining eye was cold and hard as it looked with disdain upon this newcomer. As far as he was concerned, speaking to the hired help and travellers was pointless. The fat fish arguing with the far too covered woman was of much more interest. Grunting the figure rolled his shoulders preparing to whack this flea with his weapon, the noisy fly would be silent once squashed.
Alexander smirked watching the man tense, his fellows heads were bobbing, the soft noise of chuckles and snide comments were being tossed around. Meeting the leaders gaze he gaze a resigned sigh and stepped forward casually, his arm lifting to point at the man's face. "Since you wish to be rude then I shall repay kind with kind." Without another word a pitch black orb materialized on the tip of his finger and rushed across the few feet separating them, striking the bandit lord in his broad robed chest. The man's good eye flew wide even as the light of life faded. Pitching backward with the weight of his weapon, the man fell to his back, with no possibility of being any more dead.
His gang snarled in rage, were they here in full force they'd have attacked for sure, but as it stood the odds were not in their favor, like mice the fathered raiders scattered dashing through the gaps in the 2agins towards their mounts on the outskirts, all the while hurling insults and threats. The guards emboldened by the fleeing bandits suddenly rediscovered their spines and charged after, hooting and hollering like each of them were the ones to break the stalemate. The true source sagged a bit. Casting [Death Bolt] would normally be a second nature occurrence for him but he was still in a sense "jet lagged" by his prior over casting. Dipping so quickly into that power again felt that nausea scorching up the back of his throat, it took all of Alexander's willpower to not spew stomach acid all over the fallen bandit before him.
As he swayed on the breeze trying to stem the bile that wanted freedom he felt a hand on his shoulder, from the tight grip he fully expected it to be the bitch priestess but as he was yanked around he came face to face with the lead merchant, the man's dark face was flushed and even darker now, his two eyes narrowed in barely contained rage, "YOU! How dare you but into these negotiations! You are a GUARD. You have no say in the decision making of my caravan! Do you realize what you have just done?!"
Alexander urped, lifting a fist to his lips as his hazy gaze locked on the merchants irate gaze muttering softly, "Saved your lives."
"SAVED OUR LIVES!? You've doomed us all you half wit rookie! If even one makes it back to their camp we'll be facing hundreds of raiders before we get close to the outpost!"
Alexander frowned, his voice tilted in his displeasure, "You were about to hand over a third of your defenders..."
"Good! The cargo is worth all your lives! You were hired to defend it but not if there's risk?! What the fuck good are you bunch of slackers!?"
Alexander frowned. The yelling, the fulness of the man's breath and his arrogance was making Alexander's will slip faster and faster. "You wanted to give my companion and your passengers as well."
The merchant snorted casting a side long look at Melissa, "A bunch of green rank whores, what better use than a bargaining chip? As for Melissa, fir her station they'd likely not touch her. At worst they'd ransom her back to the church. She was safe enough."
Alexander shook his head. The merchant was a fool, all he saw was his guards as was disposable pawns. Yes, Melissa might have been okay but that was not a guarantee. As for the other nine women they were expendable. Hell, every guard was expendable as long as the cargo reached the destination. Alexander really couldn't fault the guy for this, guards were hired to protect the caravan with their lives... but to casually dismiss those lives irked him, it was their job to PROTECT the goods, not be SACRIFICED for it.
Alexander couldn't argue but at the same time the casual disregard for his employees sickened him to the point he couldn't refuse the bile in his throat. How shocked was the merchant when he went to further yell at this upstart guard when Alexander suddenly vomited all over the man's face and chest. As Alexander slumped weakly to the ground, the merchant was screaming and gagging, turning and reaching from the vile taste and odor assaulting his senses...