Prologue

Ybus scurries around the wagon to sidle shoulder-to-shoulder with Aditya. "It's a brawny day to turn water into fire, my muk-faced branch!" he says jovially, reaching up to grab one of the bottles of chili oil. He tries to crack open the stopper with his teeth, but fails to find purchase and spits futilely at the fire. "Have you ever thought about dedicating your life to the teachings of Benzaiten?"

The halfling looks at the heavy barn doors and cackles. "Does this go down as badly as it comes up?" As soon as a hole appears in the door courtesy of an axe, Ybus flings the bottle at that spot.

Prior to the throw, and for emphasis, Ybus flips the bottle in his hand to clasp the neck. It's supposed to be more accurate; the writers said so!

Urban sizes up the big door and the spacing on the wagon. He's not quite sure if it will work, but he knows he has to get the horse bridled in fast before he gets even more spooked."Quit cowering, you sluggard," Urban chastises Arditya, taking him under the arm and lifting him up roughly. "Help me get this stud buckled in, or I'll toss you out the door to your competitors myself!"

"He might help if I hadn't tied his shoes togethers!" Ybus chortles. Anyone can plainly see that the laces are in fact, not tied together. Ybus doesn't even know if Aditya's shoes have laces.

Baracus cradles the small stone in his massive palm and gingerly sets atop another stone. For the past three hours, he has create a small tower of riverstones, each precariously balanced upon the last.

The arrow comes through the window and thumps into the ground, sending a subtle shockwave through the ground which disturbs the delicate balance between the stones. The tiny cairn holds for a moment, then topples.

Baracus's eye twitches.

He rises from his seat in the hay, his meditation in shambles. He strides towards the door, his muscles flexing and heart beat gaining speed. He reaches the door. His blood is hot. His rage is upon him. There is no turning back. He grabs the door and flings it open in a show of great strength and strides into the sunlight.

His voice is a defining roar:

"I PITTY THE FOOL
WHO INTERRUPTS MY DEEP THOUGHT!
ROLL INITIATIVE!"

"Stop looking at your shoe laces!" Urban shouts angrily at Aditya. "Go bridle that horse to the cart, LIKE I TOLD YOU!! NOW!!"

Urban calmly picks up his shield, but he shakes his head and frustration is on his face. "Why do you have to keep doing that?", he asks to Ybus as he glances over at Barracus, winding up into rage in front of the door. "I'm trying to intimidate this guy, and you keep distracting him making jokes. I mean that horse is about to break his own leg, and that strapping isn't going buckle itself you know. I'm trying to get this done, and just like always you take the opportunity to try to belittle me."

Urban grabs a big canister of pepper oil and walks towards the door that Barracus is starting to bash. On the way, Urban turns back one more time to Ybus. "It's just inconsiderate, that's all. To be distracting someone when I'm trying to get this cart ready."

He starts to turn around again, but notices one more thing. "But hey, can you put my book bag up on the cargo rack? It's right there. Thank you."

With that he turns and strolls up behind Barracus, pepper oil jug at the low ready.

"Keep doing what?" Ybus asks, apparently genuine in his question. "I'm concerned you've been sniffing too much o' this man's wares an' addled youse mushy-bearded brain with his spice!"

He elbows Aditya, squinting one eye shut and curling one side of his face, adopting a salty pirate accent, "Eye'd keep me aye on this scawly-wagged land-lubbar. 'E be eatin' ya out o' aft-n-stern afore ye'er able t' rem'mber which side's port!"

Erden chuckles as Baracus moves to fling the door open and winks at Aditya, "Don't worry," he says with a wide smile, "I've seen that this is going to end perfectly according to plan!"

With that, he leaps up and runs over to the back door where he can hear a bunch of people whacking at the door. Seeing a small hole where an axe managed to slip through, he waits for the perfect opportunity to arise and sticks his little hands up to the hole, unleashing waves of flame with glee.

Baracus stands among the scrambling thugs as if among children, ignoring their pathetic attacks. His massive arms reach out to them as he calls out to the leader with the flimsy swords.

"WITNESS."

He reaches out and crushes the axe wielder's skull between his two fists.

Urban assesses slowly, watching how the melee is developing with Baracus while also getting a bead on the location of all of the shooters and throwers. He raises his left arm nonchalantly to block the incoming arrow. It thuds harmlessly into the shield.

Gauging the distance, he steps forward on the porch and pitches the big corked jug of pepper, spinning it end over towards the center-most archer. Those boys are already scared and want an excuse to run, he thinks to himself.

Action, Attack: Improvised Weapon (Medieval Tear Gas Grenade) at RangeNot even watching to see if the jug hits, Urban stomps back across the porch, shield forward, and crowds the Pradeshi goons trying to flank Barracus. He takes position to guard the door and hopefully split the attacks of the remaining swordsmen.

Ybus scrabbles under the wagon as it is hitched, clawing dust and straw in great clouds as he avoids stamping hooves and rolling wheels to slip through to the other side. He clambers up the wagon and pommel-horses over the edge at the same time that Aditya sits, ending up shoulder-to-shoulder with the man again. He looks at Aditya with surprise at the coincidence, then smiles warmly. "I like you," he says with a friendly tone, and stands up to loudly proclaim, with an open hand presenting the merchant to the audience, "All kneel before the Chilled Bean King!"

Almost as quickly, the halfling snarls at the blind vomiting thug and points his belaying pin like an accusatory gavel. "Donations must go to the back of the line!" A bolt of eldritch force whips out from the end of the wooden club.

Rydler turns to those still in the shed "Focus on getting the fat piece of shit out of here, me and Baracus will cover this side." With that, he turns and runs out the front, clutching a necklace that hangs around his neck. It begins to glow a bright white, the light fades slightly and rushes towards a thug (T5) then discharges sending a shimmer around the man before disappearing completely. As he moves past Baracus, he grasps his shoulder "Give 'em hell, brother." and runs to be face to face with the closest thug.

Erden looks at the front door quickly to make sure his team has it handled. After a moment, he nods and laughs, seeing how easily they're dealing with it; it's handled.

He turns back to the door, "You may want to stop now, or I'll have to get serious in here!" he shouts.

If they back off, he'll leave them alone. If not, he'll unleash a bolt of fire at the one with the greataxe.

Seeing the Pradeshi whirling the sling-sword towards Barracus, Urban steps forward and throws up his shield, attempting to deflect the blow.

Reaction: Protection to attempt counter to strikes against Barracus
The archer's arrow sails in towards Urban, but is thwarted by his armor.

Seeing the man turn to flee, Erden takes his staff up in both hands and swings it at the man.

Rydler smiles at the leader "A nightmare for some. For others, as a savior I come. My hands, cold and bleak, it's the warm hearts they seek. What am I?"

"So how do you kick this thing into gear?" Ybus says, climbing into the driver's seat of the wagon. He hefts his spear, noting the sharp point and the horse's rear end and mentally doing some addition. Reaching a conclusion, Ybus grins.

Moments later, a single dried chili is dangled in front of the horse's head, with a spectral disembodied Mage Hand delicately clasping the stem aloft. "Come on, go eat the nice shriveled carrot!" Ybus urges, ready for the wagon to be carried out through the back door.

Through the rage, Baracus see Urban approaching from the side, feels Rydler's hand on his shoulder, hears Rydler's voice.

Give 'em hell, brother.

"THAT I SHALL."

He spends no energy preparing for the incoming steel whips, knowing Urban has his back. As Urban takes the impact with his well-worn shield, Baracus crouches and leaps into the air, sailing over Urban's defenses and straight past the urumis. In mid air, he unlatches his greataxe from his back and pulls it out in one smooth motion.

Give 'em hell, brother.

There is pride in those words, for Baracus. His true brothers were long dead, but these men were as close as blood to him They had been through hell and back together. He trusted nobody more than these men.

Well, except for that crazy fucker Ybus. But when push came to shove, he was his brother too.

With a smile on his face, Baracus slams his greataxe down.

Erden, missing with his half-hearted sweep of his staff, turns and leaps atop the wagon with Ybus, "Onward, brother!" he shouts, cackling dramatically and waving his hand in the direction of their foes outside. A trio of screeching, luminescent owls rush from his fingers and slam into the man using the shortbow.

Urban sees the gravity of the situation. After blocking one last shot, he turns and charges to the wagon. He leaps onto the cart and climbs into the driver seat, crowding in on Ybus. "Quit fooling around," he says, seeing that Ybus has a rod hanging a pepper suspended by a spectral hand in front of the horse. He takes the reigns and pushes the pole contraption aside at the same time, with an annoyed look.

"I thought you were going to get the door," he says to Ybus, calmly but chastising. "Can you get the door? This poor horse shouldn't have to knock it down himself. Come on, Ybus. This is the sort of thing I've been trying to talk to you about."

Urban knows that the halfling can blow the door, so he takes the reigns, ready to snap them. He turns around and yells over his shoulder, "WE ARE LEAVING! NOOOWWWW!!!"

Ybus cackles, mentally willing the chili pepper to bob up and down. "I always listen to anything you say, Urban," he admits. "It just ain't worth remembering!"

There is a brief pause. "Well, except for that one time you admitted to pooping your pants in the middle of a dance; that was memorable. It's so odd that I can remember it whenever we're in the company of strangers. Speaking of... Adi! Knock knock!"

Ybus waits for a response. Seeing the chili farmer's expression of shock and panic, the halfling reaches over and jiggles Aditya's lower lip while muttering in a falsetto, "Who's there?"

"Powder!"

"Powder who?"

"Powder Eldritch Blast at the door!" Ybus screams and levels his belaying pin at the remnants of burning door, firing an arcane bolt of repelling force.

"Perfect! That's perfect," Urban says to Ybus, satisfied with the door blast.

"But wait, wait.... It was not in the middle of the dance. That was after the dance, I was outside the building. Plus that really wasn't my fault because..."

Urban sees a burning rafter fall.

"Let's go!" Urban yells.

Ensure everyone is on the cart first, then snap the reigns.

Not wanting to deal with any more arrows following them, Erden turns and launches a bolt of fire at the shortbow-wielding enemy.

As Ybus rambles, Erden begins laughing hysterically, turning to Urban, "You may as well just give up. You're never going to live that down!"

As the burning rafter falls, Erden begins laughing harder and wiping a tear from his cheek, "Ah, this reminds me of that time in Rufard, when -" his story is cut short as some embers fall from the ceiling and his hat catches on fire. Frantically, he tears it off and throws it into the barn, then curses, "Agh! Dammit! That was my favorite hat!" he shouts, "Urban, I demand you turn this cart around this instant!"

Baracus takes in the Pradeshi cursing at him.

"THESE ARE YOUR FINAL WORDS? DO BETTER IN YOUR NEXT LIFE, FOOL."

He leaves the axe to rest on the ground where it fell, and throws punches at the man with the floppy swords.

Ybus falls into the back with Aditya. "I totally made that up!" he says to the farmer, referring to Urban's pants mishap. "I swear, I think you and me are the only one's who aren't crazy. We're the sane, you and I!"

The halfling snarls, almost to no one in particular, "Don't you tell me who's really crazy!"

"Stumped on the first one? Want to know your flaw? You're the blind leading the blind—or the dumb teaching the dumb, in your case—that is why you lost." Rydler berates the leader with a smirk.

Ybus picks up a surviving flask of chili oil, cracked down the side and leaking. "You do owe Urban there a book bag," he says, matter-of-factly. He inspects the wetness on his thumb and licks it.

"Hm. Hints of oak, with mapleberry and peach blossom," says Ybus, opening the flask and taking a swig.

"I say you're testing my fucking patience, this is the second time you've fallen flat on your promise. Right now...my only thought is how much you're worth to those 'godless villains'. Convince me otherwise." Rydler stares at Aditya with disinterest.

"We agreed to do this for a hefty payment of gold and I expect that promise to be fulfilled quickly," Erden says, snapping his fingers in front of the man's face, causing sparks to for into the air inches from the man's eyes. With a great Harrumph, he turns away and stomps to the other side of the cart, winking at his companions and smiling where Aditya can't see him.

After he sits, he looks back to their employer, "As you're aware, the noble art of Divination is my specialty, which means that I'll be able to find you with ease if you try to weasel out of it!"

"Gentlemen, please!" Aditya pleads. "I fully intend to pay you what is owed. But I can't pull 500 gold out of thin air can I? Take me to Pradesh and you'll be paid. Or content yourselves with a couple of crates of these fine peppers and we'll part ways. Either way, this wagon is taking me to the city." The man holds out his hand, expecting Urban to hand over the reins.

Baracus returns to his center. He listens to his friends fight with Aditya for the money they are owed, cracking open one of the crates and devouring large handfuls of delicious peppers.

"Go to the city. Get the gold."

Although Baracus was a little concerned with his friends' unhealthy obsessions with coins, it always lead to a good fight. If all went well, Aditya would betray them and he'd get to fight some more interesting characters. That last guy had floppy swords! he reflected.
This land was full of strange things. He imagined what kind of ribald infertility jokes his old brothers would have made at the human's expense.

He picked up the Urumi that he had saved from the fight and made it jiggle.

"Why are Pradeshi smiths so stupid, Aditya?"

He puts another handful of the peppers in his mouth waiting for the reply.

"What are you....please put that away before you put someone's eye out!" the merchant says, backing away from Baracus. Turning to the others, he smiles. "Our half-orc friend is wise. Come see the city. Get paid, spend your coin on a thousand delights! It is Dasai festival after all! Nothing rivals the Pradeshi festival of color and light! You'll be my guests! Though I am now poor, and will have to beg just so I can pay you what I owe. But you will come, yes?"

Gravely concerned, Urban turns to Ybus immediately.

"Hey, what do you mean about 'Owes me a bookbag'?" he asks, with a deathly serious look. "You got it didn't you? I asked you to put it in the cart. I remember specifically asking you! You put it in the back didn't you?"

Urban tunes out as Ybus cracks jokes and spouts more nonsense. Once he stops the cart, Urban immediately climbs over into the rear deck area and starts rummaging through the cargo. "Where is it, Ybus?! My Rule of Tueser copy was in that bag. My letters from Demetrius in Cadarnle. My Scriptures of Calticus - that was a 19 gold book, Ybus. Oh no ....no ..."

Urban barely hears the others talking as he searches. Tipping boxes, tossing aside jugs, he works like a madman. Eventually though, he realizes that his bag is gone. All of his scrolls, parchments, books - all gone. Burned in the barn fire.

Urban stands up in the back of the cart, looks to the sky, takes a deep breath in and out. He slowly slides both hands from his eyes back over the top and back of his head. His mind is spinning. How can he do his Tueserian devotions now? He hadn't memorized the last 15 measures yet. How could he ever recount the Apotheosis Pathway well enough to pose it to Henderun? Demetrius was either in jail now or dead. He would never be able to write his theory down on paper ever again.

Urban looks over to see that everyone is arguing with the Pradeshi merchant. The words are not registering in Urban's mind, but he sees the stress and confrontation. He sees that the Pradeshi is trying to worm out of this. Urban thinks back. Aditya had gotten them involved in this charade, and in the end he probably deserved some of the retaliation from the competing crew. It was clear now that the Pradeshi brought most of his problems on himself. Ever since they had been here, Aditya had brought his problems on them.

Now Urban's books and writings were gone. If Aditya had not escalated this whole drama, Urban would have left the farm probably yesterday. And he damn sure would have had his bag with him.

Aditya. Cheat. Liar. Meddler. Takes everything and offers nothing. Doesn't think he has to pay?! No he is going to pay.

Urban sees Aditya trying to resist against Barracus.

Urban stomps over the front of the cart, his heavy boots crashing over the bench. He picks up one of the loose bridle lashes that he had thrown in the floor board and wraps it around Aditya's neck. He heaves the man up in the air and slams him out of the cart onto the ground. After he crashes onto the dirt road, Urban heaves him back up again, crashing him into the side of the cart, headfirst. As Aditya reels, Urban chokes him furiously with the leather lash.

"What?! AAAGH...What d'you... URK...want...*cough, cough, gag* from me?! Said I'd pay you...AAAGH! Help!!!..." Aditya struggles feebly. From the smell it seems like he's pissed himself.

Rydler grins as the merchant is choked, slammed, then choked again "It seems you aren't a very good 'convincer'. You are a very boastful man, you should stop; it lands you in more trouble than you can handle. With all your bold face lies you've been telling us, for all we know, you could be a bum in this city. You haven't enticed us with much except empty promises."

Aditya begins to slow and go limp. Urban snaps out of it and releases the leather strap, letting the Pradishi slide to the ground, gasping for air next to the wagon wheel.

Urban glares fury at the struggling man for a moment longer, then turns away in a burst. He strides away for a distance of separation from the others and stops. He turns away looking out into the wilderness. Taking several deep breaths in and out, he begins recitation of the 10th Measure of Teuser's Discipline, trying to calm his murderous passion.

It was not for Baracus to interfere if his brother had decided he deserved blood justice from Aditya. Instead, he gingerly reaches around to hold the reigns and bring the cart to a stop. He jumps down to the road and checks the little pony that pulls their cart, petting it, soothing it.

From inside the cart, Ybus leans over and whispers from behind Aditya's ear, "I don't want to tell you I told you so. But I did. Tell you, that is." He taps Aditya's nose with a knowing wink and returns to sorting the tossed cargo into a manageable pile of unsorted goods.

"Ah, so full of rage, my friend," Erden says sadly, made uncomfortable by his companion's display of anger, "Whatever was in your bag, I will help you replace whatever I can. Perhaps when we have time, I can look into the past for you to help recover whatever manuscripts were lost? I'd be happy to, as long as you'll make a copy for me as well for my trouble!" By the end of his little speech, he's moved past his discomfort, excited by the prospect of amassing more knowledge to send home to his scholarly family.

Urban looks down at Erden, first with an expressionless stare, but then he softens to friendly contentment.

"Ah...yes...you know. It is nothing," he shakes his head and waves his hand, softly dismissive, "They were just papers. Just ...possessions. I have to strive to maintain better control. Should not be so quick to anger."

Urban continues to gather his calm demeanor with every word. He pats Erden on the shoulder sincerely, and starts to walk back to the group. "So," he asks the gnome, "have you decided where we are going next?"

Baracus rumbles his previous position:

"Go to the city. Gold or glory await us, I care not which. The Pradeshi can decide."

He continues to stroke the gentle draft horse's mane.

"Yes!" Aditya squeaks, nodding emphatically, pleadingly. "To the city! You'll get your gold, I swear!"

Erden nods, "Seems like the city is a good choice to start," he says, "We'll make sure that our employer here gets us our money and then we'll decide from there."

Rydler walks up to Aditya, pinches his cheek, and smiles "You better hope so. Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me thrice, you shall fool no further." he releases his pinch and lightly pats the merchant's face a couple times before climbing into the back of the cart.

Ybus has made a miniature replica of the chili shack that once blew up, using bits of timber for the walls and actual chilis for the merchandise. There is even a small piece of burlap hanging just enough to look like a book bag. Small bits of charcoal seems to represent the honorable party; one large misshapen piece might even signify Baracus.

With an expression of pride in his handiwork, Ybus pulls out a tinderbox and seems intent on replicating the dramatic conflagration, right there in the middle of the cart.

Urban is pleased to see the people traveling on the road alongside of them. He keeps the cart moving along, but lets the horse fall into pace with the other local caravans. When some kids drift by joining the performance and then staring up at the cart, Urban kids with them about not getting run over by the horse. He says that he is a Pradeshi war horse that might get jumpy and stomp them unless their dance is exactly perfect. When their eyes get wide with terror, he laughs and disarms the joke. He tosses the kids one coin a piece and then hands a big jar of peppers to the oldest. "Go give this to your mother. Tell her to use it in the cook tonight. Go on." He smiles when they run off, and then he laughs at the dance of Aditya.

Still smiling, Urban recounts to Erdan. "Ha! I used to visit old Samir. Did you ever know him? He was a Pradeshi hermit, way up on the big ridge past Aetolos Rise just south of Cadarnle."

"He had big elephant bones in that old hut. Paintings everywhere on skins outside," Urban continues, managing the reins on the slow roll of the cart ride. "I had climbed all the way up their one spring. I heard he had some teachings. It took me a day and a half to make the rise. Camped out under a rugged locust tree that was hanging off the side of that really steep bank on the west face."

"So he talked and told me about his scriptures. It was pretty good. His stuff about the nature of suffering as an innate part of man's identity was really good. But then, you know, he just I thought had a really weak take on the idea of the lack of separation between man and the creation. The elephant teachers say that you have to strive to return to your natural state, which is unified with the creation and all of the energies. I mean fire, wind, rain, the whole list of elements."

Urban shakes his head, giving an expression of being unconvinced. "I just think that you cannot deny that the elements are separate from man. There's something that goes beyond that. I mean, they are two different things, not the same thing that is just split apart somehow. But as you know, the Pradeshis don't read any of the Dorinites and they have never listened to any of Matheus' lectures from the Onetar Histories. So I guess it's not surprising then that you start thinking you can set yourself on fire and hear secrets." Urban rolls his eyes.

Urban shouts out to one of the Pradeshi kids running along beside the cart, telling him to go long for a pass. When the kid sprints out, Urban tosses a silver up in a long arch into the dexterous boy's hands.

"But still, Samir had some great wine up there. He hung vines out on Bone Flat. Plus he really loved good nails from the smith, so I would bring him a bucket of them to trade for those silks he used to weave. I kept going to see him about twice a year when I was in devotions. When Tavian Mark was going up there to kill him with those New Solstice acolytes, I bushwhacked them on the trail right there near Banded Gorge. They were just way out of line back then, so they had it coming."

Urban shakes his head and frowns briefly, as if reflecting on some tough truth, but then quickly turns back festive again, "HaHa! I bet old Samir is smoking sticky stinky weed right now. You can bet that he knows about this Dasai, and he never misses a festival, even up there on the ridge by himself!"

Baracus rested in shade at the back of the wagon. The smells of this land ever reminded him of the first time he heard of Pradesh. On his way down from the mountains of Qinglai, his path crossed with a Pradeshi travelling circus. His rustic upbringing and austere monastery life had not prepared him to endure the Pradeshi assault on his senses.

Everywhere he looked, there were bright colours of every shade in the rainbow - clothes, tents, even the animals were painted in a thousand colours. The spiced meat on spits swarmed the air with pungent aromas, and sitar and drum sounds came at him from every angle. His eyes could not rest anywhere without finding a spectacle - a ghost-haunted priest, a sword-swallowing beauty, a fire breathing acrobat. And everywhere, silver and gold coins changed hands. Merchants sold exotic spices that promised spiritual experiences, gamblers bought and sold debts with the clatter of dice, and others promised debauchery behind silk curtains that would make a devil blush.

Baracus took refuge in a dark tent full of smoke. It turned out to be a recruiting tent of sorts for a Pradeshi mercenary company, the Thousand Swords. An officer approached with an easy way about him, and told him that the turbaned men were the guardians of Pradesh, and that they were looking for warriors like Baracus. Baracus declined, his path leading elsewhere, but the officer presented him with a Xiphos - the titular weapon of the Thousand Swords - and told him that if he ever changed his mind, he could present the weapon in Pradesh and receive immediate employment.

Baracus kept the weapon. It made a good knife when he was hunting game or skinning animals. He even used it in a fight once and awhile, mostly for variety's sake. He pulled the xiphos free of its scabbard and regarded it in the Pradeshi sun.

"You are home, knife."