Xalmann followed behind the fiery steed, running down the road toward his companion's camp. The fiery horse moved slow enough that he could keep good pace with it, but it was still a fairly fast pace for the Lizardfolk. As he ran, he thought maybe he should find himself his own dread steed in the future. It would certainly make it easier to travel, especially with Mask. He pushed the thought from his mind with a slight smile. He just could not picture himself riding a horse. 

After a while, the horse slowed down and Xalmann ran up next to it. His breathing was a bit heavy from the exertion, but his stamina was high. He would be fine in a few minutes. He looked at his companion as they dismounted and began to lead the horse and the Lizardfolk toward a small camp.

Inside the camp, he could see two humans standing at attention. They were looking toward him, seeming a bit confused by and suspicious of the Lizardfolk's presence. They were probably expecting Mace to be with their leader instead. Xalmann thought it might be a good idea to try and seem like less of a threat. He took his hands away from his sides where his weapons were attached at his waist and crossed his arms in front of him as he walked into the camp next to Mask.

"Report," Granth commanded as he strode into the camp. "Where are the others?"

The two bandits before Granth looked at each other before one of them answered. He was the skinnier of the two, and wasn't equipped with any obvious weapons.

"One of the boys found an old battle site about two miles from here while hunting," the thin, red-headed man began to explain, clearly confused and concerned by the lizard's presence but nevertheless pretending Red wasn't there. "Half of us went to scope the place out. Dirk and Griswald are out hunting; should be back soon."

"Got new plans for you," Granth told the bandits, pointing at the larger of the two men. "Big John, you're with me. Corren, you fetch the lads out looting and tell them to head north from here 'til they hit the road, then find the caravan along it. No robbing this time; just find Boris and back him up in case the yokels try anything."

The robber-lord stepped away from his fellows, making his way over to a wooden pen where a pair of very dangerous looking dogs paced. They were large beasts, clearly not fully domesticated, and seemed, in fact, to be more wolf than dog. But Granth stroked the animal tooth amulet he wore¹ before speaking aloud to the animals.

"You want to go hunting?"

The wolves, surprisingly, seemed to understand the archer. One of them stepped forward, sniffing at him and letting out a low, soft growl and then a bark. Granth nodded and reached into a pouch on his belt.

"I do. Here, have a smell."

The huntsman removed a black paw - clearly taken from one of the displacer beasts, though when he'd done so was a bit of a mystery - and held the bloody thing out for the wolfdog to smell. The beast sniffed, and as it did Granth opened the pen, letting it out. He closed it shortly after, leaving the other wolf inside.

"She's got the trail," Granth told Xalmann with confidence. Then he looked to the thin man, Corren, and leveled his gaze with his. "By the way, if you miss feeding them again, I'll toss you to the dogs."

"B-but I didn't-" The young man began to protest, but he went silent at one baleful glare from his leader. Then he ran off to follow his orders a little more quickly than before.

Granth looked back over at Xalmann, noting quietly, "Ain't everyone that's born capable. Some of 'em come from the army, some from hunting or farming, and others... others you've got to mold into being real fighters. Fear's a good motivator."

With that, Granth got back on his dark steed and set off at a trot, his thug, his wolf, and the lizardman following behind.

---

Abilities Used: 1. Necklace of Animal Speech

Xalmann looked at the two men one last time before turning and following behind the steed. He didn't know when Mask had found so many allies. He thought about Mask's words and wondered which of them fit which category. He wondered which category Mask thought he fit into. He had been born in a tribe of raiders and warriors. Was he born capable? Or was he just molded by his tribe's customs? It didn't matter. Not right now. They had a beast to track down and a man to save. Save and then use as a bargaining chip.

The wolf dog lead the trio through the trees, sniffing out the scent of displacer beast. As they went, the ground started to get more uneven and rocky until it was clearly unsafe for the horse to traverse. Mask was forced to dismount and travel on foot. The horse stayed behind, waiting for its master's return. It was unlikely anything would try to attack the fiery steed.

As they walked along behind Mask, Xalmann looked at the one they had called Big John. The man occasionally glanced at Xalmann, obviously still unsure who the red Lizard was, but too afraid to mention it to his boss. He silently followed orders. Deciding to try and be friendly, he decided to introduce himself to the man. "I am Xalmann" he said in a low whisper to the man while pointing a claw at himself. The man still looked confused, but replied to the introduction with a nod. "Big John"

Granth's wolf led the group through the thick trees and rocky terrain and toward a cave where no light penetrated. Bones were strewn on the outside - both of humanoids and of animals, small and large - and Big John immediately tensed up behind Granth, looking uncertain at the sight. He seemed focused on a pair of huge tusks jutting out from the ground.

"Thems is dire boar bones," the big man muttered toward Xalmann, eyeing the entrance warily. "Big things. Bigger'n cattle. Put a hole the size of a helmet through your chest. Whatever's in there is nastier than that."

"Perhaps," Granth muttered. "Or it was the work of the whole pack that took that thing down. If there IS some sort of giant displacer beast inside, we've got the numerical advantage this time."

Granth's confidence seemed to rub off on the brutish fellow. He nodded, then started on forward carefully alongside the ever-alert wolf. Granth waved for Red to come along and readied his bow.

As the group approached the cave, the amount of bones strewn about grew thicker, and the sound of sobbing could be heard coming from inside. There was the sound of something large growling inside the cave, too, and Granth felt a little worried that maybe he'd underestimated the threat.

That's when it literally appeared twenty feet in front of him, materializing out of nowhere: a massive specimen of displacer beast, standing a full eight feet tall, its six legs bristling with muscle, its two tentacles waving their sharp spines at the end menacingly, its maw drooling with anticipation of a coming kill.

Granth wasted absolutely no damned time shooting it straight in the face... and watched in horror as it barely reacted at all.

"ATTACK!" Granth shouted, and the fight was on.

Xalmann wasted no time and immediately rushed toward the massive beast, his scales starting to glow like they had just been freshly forged from metal and the air near him rippling with extreme heat. He pulled his axe and his dagger from his waist, ready to swing.

When he entered its range the giant displacer beast swung its two tentacles toward him, but Xalmann sliced at them with his axe. One tentacle was cleanly severed, sending the end of the tentacle flying away. The other managed to catch him in his right shoulder, sending Xalmann stumbling backwards with a grunt, several holes in his scales trickling with blood.

However, the beast was the one who seemed like they had taken more damage from the blow. The end of their tentacle was blistered and blackened. They had been horribly burnt by the heat of Xalmann's scales. They looked at him furiously, letting out a deafening roar.

Xalmann stared back at the beast angrily. His shoulder was bleeding and hurt like hell. But he had managed to throw himself back slightly as it had hit, lessening the impact enough to not break or dislocate it. But, the spines on the beast's tentacle had still done significant damage. He would need some medical attention after this battle was over.

---

Heat Cloak

Xalmann's wounds were a fair price to pay for the distraction he provided. It gave Granth and his minions enough time to launch an assault.

The Dread Archer loosed another two quick arrows at the displacer beast. The first connected with its leg, making it roar in rage, but the second missed as the creature teleported yet again, this time right in front of Granth. Big John came to his aid, but was struck in the arm with one of the lashing tentacles, sending him staggering away with a gasp of pain. That, however, was exactly when the large wolf leapt onto the beast's back clamping down with its jaws and tearing into the monster.

The monstrosity still had a lot of fight in it, however. The battle had only just begun.

The cunning beast teleported again, this time leaping as it did. When it reappeared, it was near the roof of the cave mouth, and its leap ended with the wolf being crushed up against the ceiling. The canine yelped, then fell off the monster's back and onto the ground with a crunch and a whimper, clearly badly wounded. Just as the displacer beast landed, however, another arrow flew out and struck it in the torso, penetrating deeply. Its baleful gaze turned toward the archer.

Granth nocked another arrow. He stood still. He was unafraid.

Forward the beast charged. It dashed with catlike agility, its bulky body moving far quicker than anything that large had a right to. But it slowed to a halt as it closed in on Granth, just about ten feet away, its gaze locked with Granth's. He stared with a malice that held it back, paralyzed with fear just for a moment.

It was a moment that Xalmann could capitalize on.

The beast suddenly stopped for a moment and Xalmann seized the opportunity. He leapt high up onto the side of the beast and buried both his battle axe and dagger deep into its flesh. As his clawed feet landed on the side of the beast, a sizzling sound could be heard from the beast's flesh beneath them.

Xalmann would have liked to remain there, continuously burning the beast with his superheated scales, but he had seen what it did to the wolf dog that had clung to its back. After a few moments of the beast crying out in pain, he slammed his tail down onto the beast and kicked his feet off at the same time. The axe and dagger tore free of the beast's hide as he leapt away, leaving deep gashes. He landed on his feet a bit unsteadily, his arms outstretched, but his tail hit the ground and managed to help him not fall onto his back.

Xalmann had leapt off of the beast just in time as it disappeared just a split second after. Immediately upon seeing it vanish, Xalmann spun around, swinging his axe at the area behind him. He had grown wise to the displacer beasts' tactics. His axe cut through the snout of the beast almost as quickly as it had appeared. The beast leapt backward, enraged.

---

Prehensile Tail

The displacer beast's strength was waning, but it was not defeated yet. It still fought with fury, not giving up; after all, it was guarding its den, and it smelled the blood of its kin upon the hands of its enemies. There would be no surrender for the massive patriarch.

Granth took advantage of the creature's momentary weakness to plant another arrow in its face, this one slipping right into the wound on its snout Xalmann had made. The beast howled and dashed away, trying to find an easier target. It went for the downed wolf struggling to rise to its feet.

Thankfully, Big John had recovered from his fall and was waiting for the beast. When it leapt for the wolf, the mace-wielding bandit smashed his weapon right into its remaining tentacle, swerving the displacer off-course and crashing it into the cave wall. It shook its head furiously, then leapt at the big man instead, tackling him to the ground. He held his mace up to try to block the monster's bite, but he only held it off for a couple seconds. It clamped its teeth around his head and yanked.

The result was too grisly to describe. Big John was definitively, absolutely dead.

Another of Granth's arrows ploughed into the beast's side, and it stumbled. Then it teleported behind Granth, but he expected that maneuver; as soon as it disappeared, he started running toward the tree line. When the beast reappeared, the archer ducked behind the trunk of a particularly thick tree. It wasn't enough to prevent its massive claw from raking across his arm, but it was enough to prevent it from tearing him apart. It roared and clawed again; he answered by taking the arrow in his hand and stabbing into its paw three times in quick succession until the arrow snapped.

The displacer pulled its paw away, an arrow stuck in the soft pads underneath. It hobbled away quickly, reassessing its circumstances. On its last legs and close to death, the beast began fighting more cautiously and being evasive.

As for Granth, he quickly repositioned and readied his bow, trying to find the right time to make the perfect shot.

Xalmann glanced at the headless body of Big John with a grimace as he rushed toward the displacer beast. What a shame. He had only just introduced himself to the man and now he was undeniably dead. He was furious at the beast that had killed the man. He charged toward it leaving scorched footprints in his wake.

The beast was more cautious than before. As soon as it noticed the charging Lizardfolk, it teleported again. Xalmann turned on his heel, ready to strike out at the beast as it appeared behind him. However, no beast appeared. He looked around, spotting it near the cave entrance. It was going for the downed wolf again! Xalmann refused to allow another ally's life to be snuffed out by the beast. He turned and charged toward the beast again.

He knew at this rate that he would not make it in time to stop the beast. He threw his axe at the beast, his own blood trickling down his arm from his shoulder mixed with the blood from the beast and was flung off of the axe as it spun through the air. The beast leapt back, away from the wolf to let the axe pass by, just in front of its face. The axe had brought Xalmann enough time though. He ran up and sank his dagger into the beast's side, gripping the dagger in both hands. The fur around the dagger began to darken and smoke.

The beast roared in pain, but its eyes shot open. It stood frozen with a look of confusion. The beast was confused by the sudden change in scenery before it. A scene of a burning Lizardfolk village.

The injured wolfdog rose up and clamped its jaws around the displacer beast's neck while it was paralyzed with fear. Despite being so close to Red's fiery aura, the wolf held on, its fur sizzling beneath the heat. The displacer beast roared in pain and anger and tore itself away, and the wolf collapsed on the cave floor.

Then Granth let loose that perfect arrow, that precisely timed shot that zipped out from the treeline and straight through the displacer's eye and into its brain.

The beast stood still for a moment, as if its body could not believe what had just happened. Time seemed to stand still around it. Then all its muscles gave way at once, and the feline monster crumpled upon the ground in a twitching, bleeding, burning heap.

Granth strode on forward, his sleeve shredded arm bleeding from the displacer beast's claws. He was in better shape than his allies, however. The archer paused by the headless corpse of Big John, and with a deep sigh he kept moving. Cruel though he was, Granth didn't like losing men, especially loyal ones.

The archer made his way over to where Red and the wolf were. Silently, he began tending to the canine's wounds, doing his best to get it back in walking condition. There was, however, a wound that was bleeding quickly enough that it needed to be halted immediately. There was only one good answer.

"Cauterize her wound here," Granth told Xalmann, pressing his hand over a spot on her back that wouldn't stop bleeding, the spot where her back had collided with a stalactite. "I'll hold her still."

Xalmann hesitated for a moment as Mask held the wolf dog's wound closed for him to cauterize. He didn't want to burn his allies, but he could tell that the dog would die if the bleeding was not stopped quickly. He took a breath and moved as fast as he could, trying to expose Mask and the dog to the heat for as short a time as possible. He dropped to one knee next to the dog, their fur starting to sizzle.

He dropped his axe on the ground at his side and placed the side of his hand along the bleeding wound. The dog let out a yelp of pain and tried to escape, but they were held down by Mask. Mask however, was clearly suffering from the heat as well. His breathing was shallow, the air scorching his lungs. Xalmann kept his hand pressed against the wound until the bleeding stopped completely and immediately stopped the heat emitting from him.

He looked at the wolf's wound. It was now closed, but it would still need a lot of treatment. Now more for the burns than for the bleeding. The fur of the wolf dog smelled like burnt hair and some smoke could be seen drifting off of it here and there. Xalmann was glad the fur had not caught fire. It had probably been close to doing so, though.

He turned to look at his friend, his normally emotionless face full of concern for the man.

Mask's breathing was rough, and his skin blistered from burns. The wounds dealt to him over the two battles the pair had fought also didn't do him any good. But the bandit king had been through worse. He'd survived the Bleakfort gulag. He'd been sentenced to death once and lived to tell the tale. Like Xalmann, Granth wouldn't be taken out by a few paltry battle wounds.

So, he kept moving. Granth gestured for Xalmann to give him some distance, then worked the same basic medicinal know-how he'd used on the lizard before to patch the wolf back up. Wound cleansing, salve, bandages; these he applied carefully for the beast. Perhaps it should have been angrier and bitten at him, but he spoke a few words that calmed it down, kept it from snapping. Then it laid its head down and relaxed.

That done, Granth turned his attention to Xalmann, and he followed much the same process again. He was no doctor, but he had practice.

"We're going to need both pieces of John," he muttered to the lizardman as he worked. "Boys back at camp will want to give him a burial. Only proper. But at least we'll make enough money off this to keep the gang afloat.

"Glad you were here today, Red," the archer added quietly, flicking a glance up at his concerned friend's face. "Kept me from dying again. Gonna be me that owes you a debt soon enough."

Eventually, the work was done. Granth released his patient, then looked back into the cave.

"Let's retrieve our prize and be done with this mess. The man better be worth his weight in gold."

Xalmann still looked at his companion, a bit concerned about them, but he nodded and turned to enter the cave. He put a hand on their shoulder and held them back as he began walking forward into the cave.

He went in ahead of Mask. Partially because the man used a bow and arrow. They were well suited to support him from behind with their arrows. And partially because he believed the man might be more wounded than he cared to admit. Not only emotionally from the deaths of his companions, but he had also taken some serious injuries from the displacer beast. He had also taken some damage from Xalmann. He felt a bit guilty about that. He walked with his dagger and battle axe at the ready, in case there were any more beasts hiding in the cave.

More bones crunched under their feet as the walked through the cave, making it impossible to be stealthy. If there were any beasts remaining in the cave, they would certainly be alerted to the pair's presence already. The sound of sobbing grew louder as they came upon its source. A small man lay curled up, sobbing on the ground, facing away from them. This was the caravan master?

Granth did not waste any time with niceties or decorum. The gruff bandit simply walked over to the whimpering little man - just barely five feet tall - and grabbed him by the collar before jerking him up to his feet.

"Get up," the killer snapped.

The small fellow obeyed, although it was clear he'd suffered some lesser wounds from the giant displacer beast's maw. It was a miracle that he hadn't been killed, though by the whining sounds coming from further within the cave, Granth assumed it was because he was being saved as a future snack for Displacer kits.

"You're alive and in one piece. Stop blubbering," Granth muttered at the man. He looked down at him sharply. "Got a name?"

"R-Ramus! Ramus is my name," breathed the little fellow. "Please, I must thank you for-"

"We're only here because your wife asked us to rescue you," the archer interrupted, watching the man like a hawk. "And because she promised you'd make it worth our while. We had to kill a lot of beasts to rescue you. Even lost one of my men to do it. You will be grateful, won't you?"

The caravan master swallowed. He could tell he wasn't going to have a strong position in the coming negotiations.

---

Dickering with the merchant didn't take long. Before the pair knew it, they were back on the path toward the bandit camp, leading the injured wolf there to give her a chance to rest. The headless body of Big John they left there as well; they were going to bury him there once they finished gathering their reward. It was as good a place as any.

The actual "reward" - more extortion than anything else, really - was about a third of the valuables the caravan carried. Granth was satisfied with that; his men couldn't carry much more than that without burdening themselves on the road. It would be better to travel light.

There was, of course, also a reminder to the caravanners that it was the Deadwood Devils that saved them, and if they knew what was good for them, they'd make sure everyone knew that and paid tribute if they expected similar protection while going down the road.

When it was all said and done, Granth looked to Red, his eyes tired behind his mask.

"Maybe next time we can meet up without any of us bleeding out," he joked, chuckling to himself. Then he held his hand out to the lizardman. "You're welcome to join us on the road if you want. Heading back toward the Moon Glade. Can't stay here long; got to keep moving to avoid being attacked. Ain't big enough to claim territory the proper way yet."

Xalmann thought about his friend's offer for a moment before he nodded to the man.

"Yes. I will join you. I will enjoy hearing and sharing stories" he said with a slight smile before immediately regaining his expressionless visage. "And I will help bury Big John".

He was still a bit saddened by Big John's death. He hadn't know him for long, but he had fought side by side with the man. That was considered as close a bond as siblings in his tribe. Sometimes closer, if they had fought many battles together and survived. He also considered Mask like a brother to him, though Mask was also his savior and, it seemed, often his leader. But calling him his leader felt wrong. He hoped Mask considered him more of an equal than a subordinate.

Xalmann was also a bit tired and injured from the battles with the displacer beasts, especially the giant one. His shoulder was treated and bandaged, but he would prefer to take some time for it to fully heal before he got into another battle with such a fearsome adversary. Travelling in a group was much safer than travelling alone.

Xalmann hefted a large sack of goods onto his uninjured shoulder, part of the "rewards" from the merchants they had saved, and started walking with Mask and the other bandits back to their camp.