Del visibly pales as she looks behind her. "In the shadows! Scorpions! Very fat scorpions." She glances down to make sure none are on her, her free hand checking her hair. "If one gets near me, I'm zapping it to the abyss," she whispers.
The scorpions are difficult to see, many of them hiding in burrows in the ground. They watch the group from their small, shrouded caves with hundreds of rounded eyes. They range from the size of a small cat to the size of a mouse, most of them comparable to a squirrel. The largest of them makes a strange clicking noise, and soon enough they are all clicking in an eerie symphony that silences any other natural noise.
However, none of them move from the mouths of their holes.
“Didn’t I tell you I hate scorpions,” Terrence stammers.
Flynn draws his borrowed sword. "Bloody puppet man. Can't you hate piles of gold or the like?"
"What can I say? The heart hates what it hates. At least we haven't been assaulted by bagpipe players... yet." Terrence looks around as if suspecting bagpipe players behind every tree or crouching in the tall grass.
In a dangerous political climate, several expeditions are made to the infamous Wilds in hopes of expanding the country, Urbane, and avoiding an all out civil war. But, when the lord in charge of the excursions is almost assassinated, tensions increase and put new pressures on the brave explorers.