OOC: Keep it at paragraph length, about 3 lines at minimum.

Noon on the wastes of the southern tip of the world. A vast desert, with sand stretching far beyond the horizon. These dunes are the territory of Thenza of the South, one of the three iron hearted men who rule the wasteland that is this world. There are no polluted streams or lakes here, unlike the northern regions, for they have dried up long before the great war had begun, when the world was still fertile and covered with a magnificent green hue.

In this desert, not far from the capital, lies the setting, a small migrant village that is home to weary travelers who trek the seas of sand endlessly. The capital casts an eerie gaze out to this village, and Thenza's magnificent pyramids loom menacingly over this humble village.
Said village is made of tents whose material was fabricated from beasts that exist in this land no more. They are lightweight for transport, but are sturdy enough to withstand the storms and the dry heat of the burning sun, Azlafed, as the migrants call it.

Within the center tent lies eight weary souls, each unknowing of the grand duty that lies before them.
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The sun shone through the hole near the center of the tent, the point where it converged. Sigrun shielded her eyes from the bright glare as she woke from her nap. The heat was intense, and the result led to her feeling sluggish. The black man had not come to her. It was not a dream, just the bleak darkness of her head. There were several others in the tent, mostly men. It was a rare sight to see women outside of major cities, mostly due to the movement bans in each empire.
She soon grew tired of absorbing the surroundings, and gazed in her book.

"Eliminate the Half Moon. It is outshining your star, which is meant to be the brightest."

That was the last message given to Sigrun by the black man. It was a puzzling hint, when he usually left straightforward orders. He lied to her. Nothing was brighter than her star, he explained it to her explicitly.
She played with her Kard, reflecting the glare towards the others in the tent, aiming for a single person purposefully.

Akil shifted uncomfortably on the sandy ground that held the humble tent. Seven others were gathered within its confines. Some were sleeping peacefully, while others were simply idling around. Akil hadn't slept since arriving at the tent. Not that he could remember when that was. The days seemed to have blurred together since he left the small settlement to the east. He couldn't even recall what had brought him to the tent.

Akil's thoughts eventually drifted to the strips of meat he was carrying in a small pouch. Akil had wrapped them up as effectively as he could manage, but nothing could stop the effects of the hot sun completely, and the man was beginning to worry that his precious food might spoil.

The calm stream of thought flowed through his head for quite some time, until a sharp glare broke him from his daydreaming.
"Uhh, whassat?" He grumbled stupidly, as he squinted and covered his eyes with one hand.

Vincent was situated inside the tent, at the back. He sat criss-cross, his left hand patting the bag on his lap. He wiped some sweat from his brow, and used his coat as makeshift shade, despite already having one. Then closed his eyes, a calm expression on his face. He could hear many sounds he wouldn't bother to listen to. He could hear the individual noises everyone made, their breath, the way they shifted themselves, it was a nice refresher to start with.

It would be bothersome to wear it now he thought at this time, especially if rumors were spreading. Even so, someone was bound to at least know something about the infamous criminal, who didn't? The man committed so many atrocities, even the most vile of villains would be disgusted. He was also the perfect disguise for Vincent's “hobbies”.

He heard a new noise, a grumble. Vincent opened one of his eyes, and saw that one of the two young ladies had decided to play the “reflect the light into someone's eyes” game. He closed his eye again, and continued to listen.

And like a fish to shock, Marnid awoke from a nightmare. Not that it was any specifically dark episode in his life, just a random series of unfortunate events. Or rather, that was the story of his life as a trader. It was time for a change of pace and despite the fact that he forgot how he ended up in this particular part of the land, in a hide tent similar to that of a steppe bandit's, this was something rather welcoming. What hit him as he got up as suddenly as he awoke was a great migraine. Must have been drinking his sorrows away.

Bleary-eyed, he stared around him, trying to make out the shapes and forms within the poorly lit interior. The heat did little to aid his dimmed wits but it was surely starting to make gears turn. There was a woman with a weapon in her hand, the sunlight glaring off the blade into someone's face. Okay, so he didn't have any woman companionship last night. Which was a good thing, he didn't have much left to spare anyway.

The only thing he hoped he hadn't done was conscript himself in to a random military force while drunk and he wondered what the crimpage on his head could have been worth. Not much, he hoped and Marnid eased himself up, putting his hand on his blackjack as he tried to navigate his way around the other sleepers and proceed to soak up the sun. At the very least, he'd know the time of day and where he was.

Viper shook his head of sleep after hearing mumbling. Looking around the tent, he saw the source of his awakening, as his eyes narrowed on Akil. However seeing the reason that Akil had mumbled, he turned to Sigrun, simply giving an angry glare before seeing Marnid move to the sun, and deciding that he should probably go outside to stretch his legs. Looking around at everyone in the tent, he couldn't help but slightly sigh as Sigrun tortured Akil with the simple light of day.

Getting to his feet he moved to the exit of the tent, being as quiet as possible for the still sleeping. After getting outside the tent he stretched and cracked his arms, back, and neck. Shaking himself of any stry sleepyness, he walked around aimlessly, him being rather accustomed to this heat-not that it didn't affect him. He was sweating quite a bit, almost plastering his clothes to him.

Discarding his robe and throwing it into the still nearby tent, he wondered what would happen next. Adventures WERE fun, and helped to train him quite a bit. Speaking of training, he whipped out his bow, eagerly looking for something to practice his aim on.

In some corner of the tent, Dartreigh laid still on the ground, keeping his left arm across his chest and his right arm parallel with his two outstretched legs. He hadn't bothered to brush his hair aside, not that he ever does, so someone looking at him probably couldn't tell whether he was sleeping or not. Beneath the bangs, his left eye was open while his right stayed shut, he found that oddly comfortable since he could stay awake, but feel rested at the same time, somehow. He could clearly see despite how someone would think, yet the sunlight didn't bother him, which was probably one of the benefits he considered when he decided to never take care of his hair, although he could just be lazy. He turned his head to his left, where he laid his javelin (Carefully, so that the tip didn't meet the fabric of the tent).

The back of his head felt numb and he felt some dull pain from the side down to his neck. Must have slept the wrong way; unfortunately, that meant he had to get up, and if he did, he probably wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. He decided to ignore the pain for another few minutes, and couldn't take it anymore, he quickly sprang into a position where he sat with his legs crossed, and felt something cold run down his back; he scratched his head with his left hand for a few moments until it became warm and the numbness went away. But he probably scratched too hard, it started to pain and touching it made it sting a little.

Annoyed by how typical things were since he had woken up, Dart looked around to see if anyone was doing anything in particular.

Tiandra's eyes remained closed, she knew people were shuffling about around her, but it was too hot. She hadn't been able to sleep at all. The hot air seemed to stifle her every time she tried to drift asleep. So instead of sleeping, she just lay with her back against her quiver with her eyes closed in a sort of semi-sleep state, somewhat like meditation. She was much more accustomed to the temperate weather that seemed to prevail everywhere but here in her mind. Tiandra did know however, that the poles of the world were in fact quite cold so she was thankful for what she had, for she preferred the warmth to the cold. She inwardly sighed as she decided that she get up, everyone else seemed to be stirring despite the noonday sun.

Tia opened her eyes, which seemed heavy. She didn't exactly understand why she was so tired in the first place, she had been sleeping regularly for the past few weeks, perhaps it had something to do with the heat. It seemed to drain the very life of anyone within its domain. Looking around she could see that almost everyone else had started to shake the shackles of fatigue from their bodies. She smiled, as the only other girl within the tent mischievously reflected the desert sun's rays into the face of a brown man. Another man got up and immediately left the tent after completing a series of bodily cracks, which she found a tad distateful, though who was she to judge?

Tiandra looked back at the tent walls which were made of hide, if they were strong enough to support her back, she was not sure So she made sure to be mentally aware that she didn't lean against it, ultimately bringing down the tent upon the entire troupe. She removed her quiver from behind her back which she had been previously resting against and took out one of her sharp needle pointed arrows and began to draw with on the ground casually. Many say that speaking make things even hotter, but she found the silence between them all to be quite boring, she wasn't sure how long she was going to be with these people they may as well get to know each other.

"It sure is hot" stated Tiandra, while continuing to draw on the ground with her arrow "I wonder how these people manage to live in this climate all the time. Where I come from, it's never gets this hot, though the summer can get rather heated some years."

OoC: Not sure how much the characters know each other, but I'll take a guess.

Dartreigh turned his head towards the female voice. Her name is... Tia.. Tiandra, was it? He was fairly certain that was her name, and the subject she brought up was clearly an attempt to start a conversation. It was possible the others would reply, but he would've liked to talk with someone since he has nearly nonexistent social skills. He worked his mind for a few moments to think of something that would continue the conversation, not end it, or sound rude. He liked women in general, and he was rather shy to them, but this was an opportunity.

"I suppose they've just adapted, but I'm certain they dislike it at certain times as much as the ones who aren't used to it," he said. He tried to make sure it was clear, however, he couldn't help pausing for short moments to think about the next word, and it sounded awkward if someone listened carefully.
"Personally, I love the cold, and this is unbearable, but my folks told me I was good at ignoring unpleasant conditions."

"Was that awkward? Did I sound too polite? Did I unintentionally end the conversation?" were generally some of the thoughts going through his head, but even he couldn't make out all of them. Whatever one could see on Dart's face (Probably only his mouth), it had a nervous look, although the sweaty part is just due to the heat he was never used to. He looked like the serious type, but he was quite uncertain of himself in his thoughts.

Spotting a random skull on the ground, Viper cheered with glee. Twirling the bow in his hands before gripping it, he swiftly drew an arrow with his right hand before kicking the skull high and far into the skies above. Suddenly tensing his muscles and fixing the bow onto his ivory mark, he slowed his breathing while fixing his eyes onto the skull and moving his hands accordingly. All concentration was on his target.

Letting go of the arrow, he watched it soar through the air, making a sharp whistling sound as it flew... only to just barely miss the skull, going just left of its position. "Blast!" he thought to himself. "Stupid heat must be impairing my vision..." sighing to himself in defeat, he walked back towards the tent, hoping that it wouldn't be as hot, or boring, in there.

When he walked in, having successfully stretched his legs (although, he would comment, the trip wasn't successful at all), he saw one member talking to another. He didn't quite know their names, as he hadn't quite bothered to ask, but he planned on learning them sooner or later.

"It gets a tad easier to live here after being in it for a while," Vincent politely said, joining the conversation. "Travel at night (even though it's very cold), don't let sunlight on your skin, lest you get burns, wear clothing that is both loose and can cover your entire body..." he trailed off, not wanting to talk too much about his experiences in the desert. Not that they were horrible, it was just that his first days were rough and left him exhausted at night.

Of course, chasing someone who knew your identity was probably a factor.

"So, like some of the groups I've seen and been in, does anyone want to talk about themselves, name, experiences, or any reason to come to a desert?" he asked. It was forward, but his conversations tended to be that way.

OOC: Barely. More or less they might have overheard another utter it.

"It doesn't drop below this temperature here, only rises." Sigrun explained without thinking, adding to the conversation from across the tent.

Instantly she shut her mouth and dropped her head, scanning the sand to avoid the others noticing her embarrassment. She didn't like the communicate with others when it was not of importance, due to her reserved nature. It also had to do with her superiority complex as well, but that was a lesser cause.

She stood up from her corner, and wiped the sweat from her arms, completely ignoring any other attempts of spurring conversation from the others. It was quite the idea to wear dark tinted clothes in the desert, and she certainly wished she didn't think that up. She began to fuss with her appearance. It was a habit of hers that usually flared up when she was attempting to hide her shame. If she looked busy, Sigrun believed, then no one would wonder what is on her mind, but in reality it was a tell-tale sign of the act of covering up, and it often led others to further investigations.
To cause attention to be brought upon her was not her goal, but unfortunately for her, it was often the reaction.

((Fun fact: I had spent an hour on this before my computer decided to randomly restart, losing all my progress! So here's something that probably turned out better anyway. I don't plan to do posts this large unless I have a lot to catch up with, just a forewarning.))

The easily recognizable sound of clanking plate mail made itself readily apparent, emerging from somewhere on the right side of the well-housed tent. At a single glance one could not find the source, but mere moments later a heavily armored figure stirred on the floor. His breathing became loud and audible as if coming back to reality from a trip to hell itself, and perhaps that was indeed what he had been dreaming; he himself found whatever his brain had envisioned rather faint. The clank of his armor, apparently what he slept in, led to the man propping himself up from a half-laying, half-sitting position. He looked around groggily once, twice, his armet lessening his perception and making it difficult to see. Two hands, covered by plate gauntlets as everything else was, rose slowly from the tent floor and wrapped themselves around the helmet. A swift pull revealed the man's face as he blinked several times to get accustomed to the somewhat dusty tent. Figures formed, then faces; ones he did not recognize, and they were multiple in number. He found no staring eyes despite the ruckus he had created, likely waking the others around him, but instead about half of the group going about daily routines. Well, some of them.. the man mused, though only in his head; he was not one with the luxury of speech, mute since his birth with no way of a cure. Even with the most effective medicines of their time, he held only a sharpened sense of sight and sound. The man's mind drifted towards the past, towards the peasant's fortune his mother and father had spent early in his life in an attempt to give him speech, but he soon snapped back to reality and he focused on the people around him.

One was reflecting light off of a dagger into someones' face, whilst yet others left the tent to bathe in Azlafed and his rays. Three were attempting to make leisurely conversation, though it was all rather halfhearted. That was one of the many effects of the desert had on people; and speaking of effects, a familiar one returned to the man, one of dizziness that blurred his vision and gave his stomach a lurch. It swirled inside of his head for some time before clearing, and it was likely no one had noticed. The silence that had befallen the tent was lifted by the one with the dagger, though she made it appear as if it was a mistake. Was it really better to have such a luxury and not use it properly? This was a question that ran through the man's mind, making him want to voice it all the more with each passing moment. But now was not the time to wish for things that could not be, and instead a time for interaction. A simple longsword fit for a man much larger laid beside him, lacking a sheath. Next to it was a generic steel buckler, one of the many that had been mass-produced. The man disregarded his armament and pulled himself up with one quick motion, his armet still held with both hands. He gave a quick nod to the woman across him before stretching his arms and sitting back down, laying his armet on the desert floor next to him. He would likely sit there and wait for interaction as long as necessary, as there was little to do in such a vast desert.

(Ooc: This is a bit short, but I'm really tired. Tomorrow I'll take another look at it, and I'll edit it if it's bad)
Akil was bewildered at the woman who had startled him. He had thought she was trying to attract his attention, but after quietly commenting on the weather, she began to fidget nervously with herself.
Chances are, had she not previously caught Akil's attention, nobody in the tent would've noticed her panicked display. He was still curious about her intentions, so he silently stood up and spoke.
"Is something troubling you?" He asked, purposely giving off a friendly vibe and appearance.

It was with the arrival of another bowman outside did Marnid suddenly grasp at more than just mere straws. Eight people, in a tent, all seemed to be armed in some way. Of course, since there was no uniformity, it could hardly be called a unit of sorts. So that ruled out conscription. War was counterproductive to a prosperous state and Marnid didn't want to sink in to losses again.

Retreating in to the tent shortly after the bowman, Marnid was hardly greeted but at least most of the occupants were up and about. From his time outside, he assumed it was midday. Though he didn't like interrupting conversation, most of what he assumed was spoken was merely talk to pass the time.

"Good day, ladies and gentlemen," he started, "I am Marnid, of Rivacheg, and I would just like to ask whether there was a purpose in our waking up in this tent."

Tiandra nodded in agreement with the man who said that the people had probably grown accustomed to the desert climate. She was glad that he was so willing to share things about himself, so far she knew that the man was fairly adaptive, perhaps that also meant that he was an excellent survivor as well? Whatever their situation was to be, adaptiveness always seemed to a good skill to have.

She then turned her head to the next man who spoke, giving what seemed to be good tips to remember while in the desert, she mentally took down notes. Though the credibility of his information was called into questions as one of his facts were called into question by the woman who had been playing mischievously moments before. It seemed like everyone knew quite a bit about everything, which was good. She thought it was best that they pool their knowledge together for whatever task was to arise. It was all quite mysterious really, here she was in the middle of desert, not exactly sure why or where she would go next. At least everyone seemed relatively friendly. The woman however seemed to withdraw within herself in a troubled state, she wasn't exactly sure what to do. Was the positive atmosphere to fall about so soon?

Tia noticeably heard the groaning of the metal and from the corner of her eye she saw the knight, for that was what he seemed most like in his attire, beginning to shuffle as he too began to stir. He didn't speak, so she assumed he was either the strong silent type or just preferred to keep to himself. She half smiled in his direction just as another man introduced himself as Marnid. He asked a question that was also nagging herself as well it was quite unusual the circumstances of it all.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Marnid" said Tiandra sweetly "I'm Tiandra, though you may call me Tia if you wish." Her voice trailed off "I too am wondering about why we're here" she said while drawing her legs up to her chest after placing her arrow back into her quiver. "Were we kidnapped?" The thought of imperial guards of some sort rushing in to send them into certain torture was frightening, though she reasoned it was very unlikely. She still had her weapons, a kidnapper would never do that.