3rd day, 2 week, 4th month
Near Prime Sun Noon, (Second Sun Horizonal)
BGM Boomerang -- "Na Zapadu Nista Novo"
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bQC5T27nRa8Edge of The Barrens, Nearing AkmirSalt Racer CatamaranThe home stretch under a blistering heat. Akmir rises fron the flat plane as a dusky dot, a blot, upon the near formless expanse that was beginning to wear on one's sanity. In agonizing time the dot oblates and then becomes recognizable as dot clusters... you have some time before reaching the Akbir Depot. Time to just be before dropping off passengers & cargo, grabbing supplies, recruiting new crew, to be beyond the usual bustling madness of tedious maintenance.
The stories of "The Magical West" got stale the first few days in the first voyages of the first year; they are insipid now. Soft, safe, self-absorbed... almost bloodless in their lack of vitality. At least there is a rush of lust, of violence, with these Wilderlands. Just pushing through this heat at these many clicks a minute is enough to leave these passengers quieted, let alone terrors of bandits racing to intercept you, or nightmares of marauding devils screaming in the night.
Time to replace lost crew friends and drop off wealthy dead-weight...
Rumor: Apparently a Bandit Gang, 'Screamers to the Purple Sun', is teetering upon collapse somewhere in the Western Barrens. Maybe another boat can be stolen for the flotilla.
Rumor: The Salt Devils are said to have some of the sweetest soul music. The permorming imps nod, but shiver at the thought, demons often being food for rampaging devils.
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AkmirAkbir Depot (The Barrens Arrival/Departure Hangar)
Only three of the seven wind engines along the wall's edge near the shady hangar's ceiling are working, and as lazily as the exhausted beings within. Stillness in this twilight offers meager relief as the bustle of caravans outside disturbs the edge of haziness like mourners at a sepulture. A timelessness soaks the mind in stupor where just sauntering is an excess.
Even the festooned luggage dancers listlessly plod along raised oval tracks, more bleating than cooing their luggage's desire to be retrieved by their owners:
"Am I yours?"
"Take me away with you."
"How can you leave without me?"
And when owners retrieve their luggage from these dancers the exchange carries the finality of a burden.
A bar reeking of medjool pickling rum holds melted patrons draping over pillows and saddle-seats, reminiscent of the bar's snack shelf of vaguely placeable meat pickles. Rajan tabac in the hookas is recognized more by the lingering smoke skulls and misshapen faces undispersed by the quiescent air than its musky sulfured spice.
The chattel staffing agency is offering Zaran prisoners as battle-chum at fire sale prices.
Karfan Departures has a few strangely dressed Westerners wearing more than a few stylish Wilderland souvenirs. Maybe they made out well and have info to share?
Rumor: City of Muruk has new curse-breakers (idiots) requesting a topaz boulder from the Topaz Mts. Apparently more than a few boulders passed through Akmir onto The Barrens in the past year.
Rumor: Eastern Borderlands hills has a hidden Mongrelmen hamlet ripe for the picking. Some arenas and wizards are offerering double the typical chattel price.