A trireme cuts across the sea of sand, a brown cloud billowing out in front of it. Multicolour sails strain at the masts as the even more colourful crew adjusts trim, and balance the weight on the runners. Standing at the stern, away from most of the dust, is the ship's master.

At the stern is a large-figured Nobakhim, peering out over the horizon. His body is split down the middle into two sides; a red crocodile on one side and forest green fox on the other. The odd figure leans over the railing, scanning the sands ahead curiously.

"We have to be careful; I think I saw dust clouds on the horizon earlier." The speaker is one of the more unusual Nobahkim. She – that fact being rather obvious – is formed in nearly equal parts of Cervani, Savanite, and Naga, and distinct in having three heads. Only the Cervani speaks, though the Savanite and Naga have been known to make some noises on occasion.

"-Dus' clouds?" The figure at stern lifts his head, speaking with a heavy accent. He turns to look over at the other Nobakhim, Kinshasa. "Ennything bad, yethink?"

"Most likely, the tribes in this area are particularily hostile. If they know we're here, they'll be coming," Kinsha answers. The other parts of Kinshasa – the Savanite Shasa who has a neck beside the Cervani, and the armless Naga Ess that forms their tail – are watching over the rails.

"We'll be ready," Kinsha continues. "The sandfish have been practically leaping on board."

Bazeel, the half-fox/half-crocodile at stern, nods slowly, shifting his gaze back to the horizon forward of the vessel. "Ah… " He gives kind of a twisted grin. "Wehl, would beh nice to get sum action 'board here. Ah'v been days wih'out ennything to do, 'cept watch the dunes. Ahn' that gits ol' pretty quick." He turns again to face Kinshasa, taking a few steps down the deck. "Y'think they'hl bug us?"

"Most assuredly," Kinsha smiles, as Shasa glances over with an odd look. "I'll make sure the crew is prepared." Kinshasa follows the crocfox down to the deck, then heads for the few hands that aren't working the sails.

The crocfox lets out a rough chuckle. "Wehl then, all th' betta'h, no? Teech 'em not to mess wi'h my boat." He stops mid-deck, peering back out over the sands. "Eh' they still out there? Cen't see a durn theng… " He gives a shrug, then turns back to stern. "Kinshasa… what does m'pappy want me teh be trad'n anywho?"

"We've got twenty barrels of Rainbow water below, and thirty bolts of acidspice, plus… ah, junk," Kinsha answers. Ess stares intently at a spot on the deck. Shasa opens her mouth suddenly, then closes it and moans loudly as she points with her left hand.

Off the railing and across the sand, another cloud is blowing towards the trireme.

Kinsha follows the direction her 'sister' indicates. "Something's coming, Bazeel. It looks small and is moving quickly."

"Wah?" Bazeel traces out where the hand points quickly. He frowns slightly, giving his fox-ear a skritch with his paw. "I don' see nothin'; yous sure you's not seeing stuffs?"

"Quite sure," Kinshasa nodnods, both Savanite and Cervani. "They're going to catch us. We'd better be ready… " The Naga-tail flicks out her tongue, uninterested.

The second dust trail continues to approach the Trireme as Kinshasa, the chimaera Nohbakim, circulates among the crew. According to Bazeel's standard orders, the ones suited for fighting arm up, while the rest trim the sails to try and get the maximum speed out of the sailship. It only serves to delay the inevitable, as the second object is finally close enough that even the crocfox can see it.

"… eezsks!" Bazeel stammers out, grabbing the railing of the ship. He leans out far over the side, trying to make out the unknown shape. "Whet IS that?"

While the Trireme Sailship raises a cloud of sand in front of it, the other object leaves one in its wake, meaning that it is moving faster than the windblown particles. The crocfox can see why: it is a small, single runner sled, pulled by a team of six steaming Kooshkies. A lone figure crouches over, with a multicoloured cloak whipping around and obscuring the form. The sled angles for the side of the Trirunner.

"What are your orders, Captain?" Kinshasa's Cervani asks, as they reappear beside Bazeel.

The foxcroc tugs at his collar, pausing before dismounting from the railing. He turns to Kinshasa, looking somewhat miffed. "Er… " He takes a breath. "Keep ahn corse, but keep ahn ey'on him, 'k? Ehf he gits too close, thuh… let meh know." The foxcroc turns back to face the ship. … What AM I supposed to do?

"They are close, Captain. We can attack or wait and see what it does." She points with her right hand, "They're within range of our SandUrchin slings."

Bazeel turns to nod to Kinshasa. "Yeh, a cupple wernin shot's do nice… see hah they tek it."

"Go tell 'um teh shoot, 'k?" Bazeel sighs softly. "Jus' a few shats."

"Okay." Kinshasa turns, taking a few steps ahead, which leaves her snake hovering in front of Bazeel. Ess stares at the crocfox, flicking out her tongue as Kinsha shouts to the stern of the ship, "Ramask! Two warning shots at the sled."

Ramask, who is nominally a Jupani – though he has a scaled horse-head with oversized eyes that make him look like a fish and the lower body of a Rhian – waves in acknowledgement. He loads the sling with a SandUrchin, and pulls back on the pouch, then releases. The wickedly spiked ball-creature flies down, and bounces across the path of the Kooshkie sled.

The sled driver wrenches hard to the side, dodging the tumbling creature. Spikes fly from the SandUrchin as it impacts the ground a third time, but all fall short of the monorunner.

Lifting his head up to the snakehead, Bazeel watches it for a few seconds. He averts his gaze abruptly, turning to watch the other ship's reaction.

The Savanite of Kinshasa growls as Ramask loads a second shot. Kinsha mutters quietly, "I know Shasa, but wait… " The seahorsewolf fires! The sandurchin shatters as it hits behind the trireme. One of the Kooshkies is hit by the flying spines, and dies with a squeal. The others and the sled run over it without pausing.

Kinsha says, "It's going to go underneath us, Bazeel."

Bazeel winces slightly, watching the fate of the Kooshkie. "Eea! Under us?" He begins to run towards the middle of the ship, pushing his through various crewmembers. He yells over his shoulder, "Tehl 'um te fire ahl we gots! Yeh's in control of wep'nry now, Kinshasa… Ahm' gonna go tre' to steer theh thing." He shakes his head and mutters something under his breath.

"Again Ramask, and make it count!" Kinsha shouts, as Kinshasa bounds to the stern deck. "Greep, Ilutut, you as well." The seahorsewolf looses his third shot, as the other two Nohbakim train their slings.

The SandUrchin lands in the middle of the kooshkie team, and the bounding fuzzies squeal as they impale on the sharp spines. The second and third shots hit as well, the team again, and the driver. The sled swings out of control, and rolls.

Bazeel's ear swivels back towards the sled. His pace slows some, and he turns around towards the stern. "… Kinshasa?"

Wreckage and bodies is all that remains of the sled, swiftly receeding as the trirunner travels. The chimaera watches it a moment longer before she turns to answer. Her Savanite head keeps looking back while the odd Cervani one says, "We got it, Sir. It's fishfood now."

The foxcroc visibly winces. "… Ah see… I… " He slowly makes his way towards the side of the ship. "… Is et thet bad? Eezhums… Ah only wanted to scer'… " He stops, then sighs quietly. "… Would et hurt too much te check out the remains?"

"We can bring the ship around… It might not be advisable to stop here, this is a bad area," Kinsha advises, as the chimaera walks to the top of the stairs. "It wouldn't slow us down too much."

The foxcroc nods slowly. "… Yeah… breng 'er round. See what's left… " He averts his eyes from the wreckage, and heads towards stern. What did I do?

A few moments later the Mirage has swung around, and come to a stop near the crashed sled. As it loses velocity, the tri-runner sinks down, till it's hull is 'floating' on the sand. The kooshkee sled is disappearing beneath the surface as Bazeel, Kinshasa and Ramask strap on the sandshoes that will stop them from sinking. It's a short walk over to the wreckage, but once there, the important thing is to keep moving. Things that remain still in the Seas of Sand soon vanish forever.

Kinshasa shuffles on the spot, to stay on the surface. Her Savanite head looks down at their hooves. As one is lifted, the sand is shaken off the disk-like webbed shoe, then placed back on the particulate surface as the process starts with the other hoof. Their tail, Ess, is enjoying the expedition, and has dropped flat to coil randomly behind them on the sand. Kinsha's attention is free, and she directs it towards Bazeel. "What do you want us to do, sir?"

Ramask stays afloat by walking a circle around the sinking sled. Every step of the seahorsewolf includes an automatic ankle-flick that casts the sand off to the side.

The foxcroc's feet have been slowly sinking into the sand, as Bazeel's attention seems to have wandered off. The voice seems to snap him out of his trance, and he quickly struggles to get his feet back to the surface. He looks over to Kinshasa. "Ah… guess look'n fer s'rvivers isn't really possibl' naw… " Pulling his croc-foot out of the sand, he begins to walk around the wreckage. "Think theh's a clue to who the' were?"

There are no survivors, unless the SandUrchin which didn't explode is included, and it has long since rolled away. The kooshkees are visible only as a string of fluffy bumps, surrounded by darkening sand. They are tethered to the single rider skid, whose driver is a lump underneath multicoloured clothes, and impaled by urchin spines. Enough of the bright fabric has been torn away to reveal a camel-like face with dragon-fan ears.

Several bundles rest on the sled's cargo-bed, sand starting to collect on their surface.

"… hmm." Bazeel trudges over towards the array of bundles, leaving a small cloud of sand behind him. He takes a sack up in his fox hand, opening it carefully. "Kinshasa? C'm look at this… " The foxcroc reaches into the bag carefully, drawing out its contents into the light of the desert.

A handful of razorworms are pulled out of the bag.

The razorworms bite at Bazeel's hand, but the taste is not to their liking. The few that wiggle off his palm land on the sled, and bore into it with startling speed.

Bazeel looks blankly at the razorworms for a second, before his senses catch up with him. "Ee-YAH!" He quicky throws them into the sand. "Ee-ee-e-e-e-ack!"

Ess bites one of the worms that lands near her, and swallows it while Shasa watches with a disgusted stare. Kinsha says, "It's all right, Captain. I wouldn't want to put my hand in a bag full of them either."

"Only eats ships," grunts Ramask, who seems to have inherited a Rhian's conversation skills as well as one's appearance.

"… Serry… they jes' gimme the creepers." He shudders slightly, before bending over again. He grunts, and pulls another bag out of the desert surface. "Les' hope this on' ihs defferent… " He opens the bag, and shakes the contents onto the surface of the sand.

More razorworms fall out, and wriggle away beneath the surface. A few reappear moments later on Bazeel's sandshoes, eating into the edge. The rest could be anywhere.

"They go after wood," Kinshasa's Cervani says, as they skip around to the other side of the sled. Shasa is staring down at their 'infected' sandshoes, trying to shake off the worms.

Bazeel shakes them off of his shoe with disgust. He lets out a sigh. "S'rry… ah guess thet was a west ef' time… "

The worms prove surprisingly difficult to discourage, fixing themselves on with their teeth, and returning to the shoe after they have been removed.

He pushes through the sand, heading back towards Kinshasa and the ship with haste, stopping along the way to stomp on some of the pests advancing towards his shoe.

The Chimaera follows the Crocfox, "Rainbow water will kill them better, Captain." The seahorsewolf stays back, ripping through the clothes of the dead driver.

Bazeel nods to Kinshasa. "… Ah guess we should be gettin' long, no? Gots business en' such t'do… "

"Well, yes, but Ramask is still messing around back there," Kinsha says; Shasa is busy pulling off their sandshoes and flinging them away from the ship, while Ess flicks out her tongue and looks across the sea. Kinsha grunts as they lunge for the Mirage's ladder, and she sees what her counterpart has done. "Shasa, we could have washed those off."

The foxcroc looks back at the seahorsewolf, squinting. He turns around, and starts back towards the other ship. "… Y'find ennything?"

"Minute longer," Ramask shouts back, rolling the dead body and pawing through the voluminous clothes.

Bazeel looks closely at the driver's face and figure, then starts to help the seahorsewolf paw quickly through the various pockets and such of the clothes. He frowns slightly. "… getta be something here… "

With no way to follow the Crocfox, the Chimaera climbs the ladder and watches from the deck. Up close, there isn't too much to see. The driver has sections of fur, and some of scales. His feet and hands look big enough that he might be able to walk on the sand seas, if he was willing to use all four and move quickly. His back has a large fleshy lump, covered in scales. His face resembles a Rhian, but not quite, having much larger lips. Ramask has stripped him down to the last piece of clothes, which barely covers the body and obviously doesn't hide anything else.

The Seahorsewolf is patting through the multi-coloured, tent-like cloth, with similar thoughts as Bazeel. There must be something there.

The Kooshkees have vanished; from the way the sled tilts, their weight is helping to pull it down as well. Only the driver remains on the surface due to his frequent repositioning by Ramask or the Crocfox.

"… Mmm… " Bazeel taps the seahorsewolf's shoulder gently. "Le's breng et with us… not much sens' steying ot here… " He motions to the sandshoes, which the worms are still happily enjoying. "En I don't thenk these er' gonna last much longer… " He turns around, and starts moving back towards the vessel.

A short walk and climb later, Bazeel and Ramask are back on the Mirage with the body. Kinshasa signals the crew in the rigging, and the sails are spread, bringing the ship up to speed, and lifting her out of the sand onto her runners.

Shasa has somehow ended up holding Ramask's and Bazeel's sandshoes; it seems that even if only part of you looks like a slave, some things never change.

Kinsha looks down at the dead dragoncamel, "Do you want us to take that to the kitchen?"

Shasa pulls the sandshoes away from Ess, who has renewed her interest in the razorworms eating them. Kinsha watches their overall fidgeting. "We should go clean these off before the worms get through them and start on the ship. If you have no further orders, Captain, we'll continue to Noh. There is still a week's worth of travel to get there."

Bazeel's face wrinkles up. "… Eh, no, that's ok… " I don't think even I could stomach that… "… 'nless we need fud, ah guess." He gives the body a final once-over, looking for anything else that could be of use to the figure's identity. "Y'can toss it, 'lest it'll serve ahnother pr'pose… Ah kin get the shoes."

Strange coloured patterns on the corpse's body, and tattoos on its scales indicate a tribal allegiance, but not one immediately recognizable to the crocfox.

The foxcroc nods… "Yeh… les go."

"You don't need to wash these yourself, Captain," Kinsha replies. The Chimaera starts to head below, but her Savanite interupts, making strange eye expressions. Kinshasa ends up pointing at the sandshoes being held in the opposite hand, while her tail, Ess, hovers in front of Bazeel's face and looks placidly at him.

Shasa seems to be trying to convey something important, which also involves herside hoof stomping on the deck; Kinsha finally understands. "Captain, the razorworms might have managed to reach the ship. You should send someone to check."

Bazeel straightens back up, and takes the sand-shoes out of her hand… He blinks, and shakes his head quickly. "Aie! Hedn't thought of that. You t'k care of that, ye's got the better eyes. Ah'll get the shoes… " He quickly makes his way towards the holds, muttering something under his breath about the worms.

The chimaera takes care of the problem, which mostly involves sending one of the better climbers over the side to examine the hull and the runners. Boreholes are found and moments later the climber joins the crocfox in the hold, with a skin to collect enough of the liquid to kill the worms with.

The crocfox has removed the lid on one of the barrels. Inside, the Rainbow water has been shaken up by the ship's motion. Left on its own, the liquid separates into layers that resemble a flourescent version of the colour spectrum. Agitated, these layers swirl together, but never mix. A clear glass easily shows off the mingled, glowing veins. It is poisonous to most species, and packs a solid wallop for Nohbakims.

Bazeel wrinkles his muzzle slightly, holding up the shoes above the barrel. He takes the skin from the climber, and gathers some up in it. He plucks the worms off of the shoes with his croc-hand, and slowly dips them into the liquid. "… lousy buggies… "

"Juzzt throw them in, Captain. Maybe we can zzell them azz zzome zzort of delicazzy," the climber suggests. She is fairly pretty, though she resembles a zelak crossed with a tiger. She has a bug's build and face, covered in yellow fur that also has black stripes. Overall she looks like a humanoid bumblebee, complete with wings, and a second set of buglike arms low on her torso.

The razorworms die instantly once they absorb the Rainbow water. They start to acquire some of its colouration. Hrmri watches as the crocfox dips the worms into the waterskink, and waits a few steps back, "Thankzz for filling it for me, Zzir. The water givezz me a rash."

He nods, with a smile. "N'prollem." He waits a second, then drains the liquid back into the barrel. He takes one of the worms up in his hand, letting it dangle in front of him, then pops it into his mouth. He munches it for a second, and swallows, coughing. "… whoo! Want on'?" He offers the skinful of worms to Hrmri, his mouth having picked up a tinge of the rainbow-colors. "T's not bad… thed make ah nice del'kessie… "

Hrmri shakes her head, "No thankzz, Captain. I don't react well to Rainbow Water. I'll try and fizzh the dead onezz out of the hull, but I'll need a full zzkin zzo I can kill them firzzt."

The bumblebeecat moves her head, many images of Bazeel reflecting in her multi-faceted eyes. She reaches out and takes the skin. "Actually, this zzhould be enough."

"Oh yeh… s'rry. Ah'right… y'sure yell be ok? Ah can get it ifen y'wants… " Bazeel reaches for the lid to the barrel, and fits it back on tightly. "'mean, with y'r skin and such… ?"

"I can manage, Captain. After all, if I fall off, I can juzzt fly back. I'll get right to it." Hrmri walks from the room, the light glinting off her wings in patterns that resemble the liquid in the barrels.

Bazeel nods. "'k… " He lets out a long sigh, and leans back on the barrel of rainbow-water. "Eeh… " What a day…

The Mirage continues sailing across the Seas of Sand, her destination, the largest city of the mutants, Noh. On her hull, a small figure works away and ensures that she'll get there.