Salted Sands (A Caves of Qud-Inspired Cultivation Quest)

Sun-baked red clay crunches underfoot as Kell staggers across the wastes. Sweat drenches the scarf wrapped about his head, but it still serves to keep the hellspawn sun from blistering his skin. Though Nareeve's waters reach far, not every patch of ground beneath its aegis receives equal moisture. Had it been so, there wouldn't be nearly enough for the residents of Nareeve to survive let alone thrive.

Still, the lack of water doesn't make Kell's passage any easier. His lips crack like the ground beneath his feet as his tongue fills his mouth like some great thirsty worm. It had only been a few hours since he set out on this journey, but it had been a full day since he'd last felt water in his mouth.

His shoulders burn with every step, the weight of his still-sleeping siblings heavy on his mind and body. Wrapped in the folds of a makeshift sled—fashioned from some of the wagon's blankets—his siblings follow along as Kell drags them towards Melka.

A boy would falter under the weight of responsibility, but Kell was no boy, not anymore. He slew an enemy in open battle, witnessed before his people's gaze, and so he stepped into manhood. He can do this, he will do this, for he must. A man is free to make his own choices and live his own life, but he must stand by his decisions no matter the struggle. Kell chose to bring his siblings to Melka, so that is what he will do. May the Sands swallow him whole should his words turn to lies.

But how much longer can he go? How many more steps will his feet take him? Kell had made this journey twice before, both times under the guidance of Father. He knows the path, the route to take, but will his strength see him through? Both times previous, Father's ka had kept Kell steady. Without that, can he make it all the way?

Sun-dried teeth clench tight as a flicker of a scowl passes Kell's face. Begone, foul thoughts of ill-will! Begone, cruel specters of dark futures never to pass! May the Sands take his traitorous thoughts, lest he be forced to kill them himself. The Sands' embrace would be a tender mercy compared to what he'd do to them.

This so-called struggle is nothing compared to crossing the Salted Sands! If he could do such a feat with newborn strength, then crossing from one village to the next is entirely within his grasp.

Driving his feet hard against the earth, Kell forces himself onwards with renewing strength. He will not fail, not here, not now. His life has only just begun, it can't end so soon!

A flicker of movement draws Kell's salted eyes as his hand darts to the pistol hanging off his hip. As if by instinct, Kell draws, sights, and fires the chrome revolver, all in one smooth motion.

In a great heap, the stalker-beast collapses to the ground—a perfect hole drilled straight through the cat-like monster's sloping forehead. With foot-long claws like that, it would've ripped Kell to shreds had he missed his shot.

"And that, Father," Kell whispers to nobody as he stares at the monster's still-warm corpse, "is why you don't leave the first chamber empty."

Slipping the pistol back in its home, he steps on to the rest of his life.

(+3 XP)
0~0~0

Mist spills up from the lowlands as red clay turns to fertile soil. Large rocks line the path-turned-road, each marked with a name, a place, a date, and the feat worthy of carving a story-stone. The road leads down a narrow crevice into the mist-choked landscape of the Melkan wilderness. In the center of the tree-swamped forestscape lies Melka, village of the mist-dwellers, and the birthplace of Mother.

Shouldering the sibling sled, Kell grits his teeth and presses on—the mist on his skin a welcome respite from the harsh heat of the wastes. It wouldn't be long before Melka greeted a kinsman, not because of any effort on Kell's part—far from it—but the Melkan outriders are keen scouts and keep careful watch of all those travelers who enter and exit the swirling mists.

Sure enough, Kell hadn't made it ten minutes into the mist-drenched forest before a voice cleared its throat.

"Heed warning, traveler, for you come to Melka at a poor time," a shadow shifts in the mist as a form takes shape. Riding on the back of a bipedal lizard with an elongated maw, the cloak-dressed outrider guides the creature along with reins and gentle heeltaps. A long rifle sits across the outrider's lap as he brings his mount to a halt, a gem-hilted saber dangling from the saddle. Not once does the outrider's eyes—the sole facial feature visible under their white-painted, featureless mask—stay in one place for long. "A monsterhive has taken root and brought many a traveler to gruesome ends."

"My name is Kell Nakesh, son of Vaya as-Kattell," the outrider's head tilts as recognition flashes behind those eyes, "and I come seeking aid for me and my siblings."

"As-Kattell? Then you are my kinsman," the outrider announces as they dismount with a sweep of the leg before making their way over, "Tell me, cousin, what terrible tragedy has befallen you and yours?"

"Surran burns," the outrider's eyes close in silent respect as Kell speaks, "many are dead. I and my kin are of the few that remain, now scattered to the winds."

"My condolences," the outrider offers a shallow nod before directing a cloth-wrapped hand at the sled, "And what of the little ones?"

"A spell of slumber, laid upon them by Nordenites," Kell's trigger fingers twitch, "I lack the strength to break it on my own."

"I see," the outrider is silent for a moment as thoughts turn in their mind, "I will bring you to my mother, Mist-Shaman Karo as-Kattell, and she will break the spell." Waving a hand at the lizard beast, the outrider gestures towards Kell, "Come, rest yourself upon Nero while I bear the burden of the sled." A chuckle escapes the outrider's mask as Kell hesitates for a split second, "Fear not, dear cousin, for Nero only bites those she sees as enemy."

Nero rolls her eyes as a snort mists in the air, "Karter, dear-heart, don't you worry the boy overmuch."

"I am a man," Kell is quick to correct as Nero and Karter both stare at him, "I have seen battle and killed."

"Then I apologize, cousin," Karter offers a deep, sweeping bow as he corrects his words, "would you like my mother to break the spell and would you prefer to rest on Nero's back?"

"I would, yes," Kell nods as he does just that.

0~0~0

"Surran burns?" A thin trickle of smoke trails from the end of a long, slender pipe hanging from the mouth of Karo as-Kattell, one of the Mist-Shamans of Melka, "Dark clouds gather on the horizon, an ill omen for all of Nareeve."

Karo as-Kattell is a tiny woman of advanced age. Wrinkles crawl across her face like worms through the dirt, leaving her gleaming blue eyes twinkling from the shadows of her heavy brows. Blankets of all colors and patterns wrap around her body in a shroud of seemingly endless layers. Her hair is gray and wispy, falling about her face like the branches of a weeping willow.

Kell sits across from Karo, both cross-legged and resting on floor cushions—his sleeping siblings between them. The rotund room isn't especially large, but it is filled with treasures and memories of a life long lived. Photographs line the walls, some showing pictures of adventure while one in particular draws Kell's eye. It's of a smiling, teenaged Karo holding a grumpy bundle of baby-fat and cloth—presumably Mother at an infant age.

A sharp breath spills smoke as Karo sighs, her eyes rolling across the picture frames, "I'm sure Vaya spoke little of me, our last parting wasn't on the best of terms, and I can only wish our meeting was at a better time, but, alas, the fates would have it no other way," Karo shakes her head as she shrugs, "Regardless, I am your Aunt Karo."

Kell's lips twist in the memory of a frown, "It... It is nice to meet you?"

Karo snorts, a gleam entering her gem-like eyes, "Lying is beneath you, Kell, speak truth or not at all."

"I was not lying?" Kell blinks as his brows furrow.

Karo's eyes narrow as her smoke thickens, "Then why is your ka spiking so harshly? Your breathing is regular and a boy your age should have enough control to keep ka calm, unless..." Karo closes her eyes and lets her head hang, an embarrassed sigh fleeing her chapped lips "I apologize, the plight of the Surranese seems to have slipped my mind."

A sudden, spiking jolt of irritation jumps from the depths of Kell's heart, piercing the blanket of calm and bathing his mind with white-hot annoyance, "Enough of this small talk! Can you or can you not break the spell of slumber?"

"Of course I can, child, but no feat of spellwork is without its fair price," her eyes sharpen as she works the pipe's stem. "Though you are my kin, I am bound by the laws of the land just the same as you. Tell me, those pistols at your waist," she wags the pipe at the chrome in Kell's holsters, "how deadly are they in your hand?"

Kell draws himself to his full sitting height as blue eyes meet salted, "I have killed man and beast alike with them."

"Then maybe you are worthy of keeping them," Karo sighs as she shakes her head. "Charity's bane is the Baron, so I must take something of yours to stay within the law. The only thing you have of equal value to the magic I work are the pistols, unless," a flicker of cunning light gleams in her eyes as a sly smile cracks her lips, "of course, you bring me something else of equal worth."

"What have you in mind?" Kell leans in, his eyes equally sharp.

"Many monsters roam these misted lands," Karo wafts pipesmoke all about the room. "Take bullet and gun, slay a beast of great value, and free your siblings of their slumber."

"This, I will do," Kell says as he rises to his feet. Pausing at the doorframe, he looks back over his shoulder, "Thank you, Aunt Karo."

She chuckles, "Don't thank me yet."

0~0~0

"I heard Mother's request," Karter greets Kell from a lean just as he exits the Mist-Shaman's home—a fair distance away from Melka proper—"She expects too much from one without ka."

Kell shrugs, "We all make do with what life gives us."

"That may be true," Karter pushes away from his lean, his mask still firmly on his face, "but that doesn't mean we have to like it."

"That too is true."

"Indeed," Karter snorts as he rests hands on hips, "I, however, have an offer for you."

Kell narrows his eyes, "I am listening."

"I spoke earlier of a monsterhive, how it was killing passerby," Karter folds his arms before him, shoulders set as he, presumably, scowls, "Many times have I requested permission from command to go and deal with it myself, but not once have they granted me leave. I'm the strongest of my generation in Melka!" Karter nearly shouts as his hands curl into fists, "I don't need any of their 'help'!"

"So why are you telling me this?" Kell tilts his head, looking to all the world like a confused dog.

"Because I see something in you, something worth helping," Karter says, fixing both eyes to Kell, "and because I'm going to need help carrying the loot back."

"That does make sense," Kell nods as Karter offers a hand his way.

"So, what do you say?" Karter tilts his head in a 'smile' as his hand hovers before Kell.

[ ] Take Karter's hand and hunt the monsterhive (Guaranteed to be enough value)
[ ] Thank him for the offer, but refuse and hunt monsters of a lesser sort (Uncertain if you'll find enough value)

0~0~0

AN: And so, Kell arrives in Melka, but his efforts are far from over.

I'm very happy with how this update turned out

No moratorium