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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Almightyfoon" data-source="post: 5513044" data-attributes="member: 6670569">The sun beats down on the backs of the slaves troding through the dusts along the border of the Tyranny of the Lost. It has been a long, hard march from Desert's End. The train is still a few days out from Emerald, and the looming jungle of Cyrandir that holds the bulk of the Tyrannies holdings is not a pleasant sight. The terrain is mostly flat, but stands of trees are becoming more common as you approach the jungle.There are maybe a hundred beat down, starved, and sun baked slaves being driven by nearly half as many Dragonborn, Lizardfolk and Dragonspawn. The leader of the train is a massive pale yellow skinned Dragonborn in black plate armor and wielding a pair of wickedly curved swords. "MOVE FASTER MONKEYS!" he bellows from his cart pulled along by massive reptilian beasts of burden, "I've got a big fat payday coming from your hairy asses." He says laughing as he swallows a slab of meat from a plate at his side.The task masters lash into the caravan with whips and brands, incensing the slaves to move faster. The road is dry, dusty and hard. All of the slaves are tired, thirsty and hungry, but a few seem to have a hunger for something else, a hunger that all the others have forgotten. A hunger for freedom.</blockquote>