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Kryst: Sothwyr Wagon

$ 17.50

Sothwyr (28mm scale)


Sol-dan Tryn leaned against the lip of the commander's hatch, a cigar smoldering at the end of his snout. A worn pair of binoculars hung from his neck. The deck of his Sothwyr, The Lass, was blistering hot. Small wonder Allok preferred to work at night. The other sol-dan was off sleeping someplace.


He was watching a dark smudge on the horizon, a shady place tucked between two rocky outcrops. It was as good a place as any to hide in the Dune Sea. Rocks were hard to come by here. Shade even moreso.


Six lorries sat in that narrow defile, their tires flat. The bodies - if there had been any, and Tryn was certain there had been - were long gone. Swallowed by the desert, maybe. It was better than the alternative. The trucks, flat tires aside, were in good shape. No visible damage other than some chipped paint. Bogged down, maybe, or out of gas. Most importantly, they didn't look picked over at all.


Milwer Gullh ambled over, sand all over his leathers. He loved dung beetles, of all things. Out here by Fort Zynni, they were all over the place. Good eating, the milwer claimed. Tryn had his doubts. The portly milwer swiped at a particularly large patch of sand before stopping beside the wagon.


"What's doing?"


"Salvage, maybe. Allok still sleeping?"


"Nah, he's up. Went out to dig a hole someplace."


Tryn wrinkled his snout in mild disgust. Gullh never did think before he talked. "Take a look, tell me what you see." He handed the binoculars down.


After a few moments, Gullh looked back at his sol-dan. "All I see is trouble." His good humor was gone.


"Yah, me too. Why?" It wasn't a test, per se. He just wanted to know if Gullh saw the same thing he did.


"That's not our right-of-way." Gullh might be crude, but no one could accuse him of stupidity. Tryn nodded solemnly.


"Leng Corrysh."


"Yah, the spider-eaters. Won't like us rifling their goods."


"No," the sol-dan agreed. "I don't see any sign of them."


"Me neither. Doesn't mean aything. How far off is the rest of the Company?"


"Sigo's got them near the oasis outside Debiirg. Maybe thirty, forty miles. Could be here pretty quick. We need some water as is."


Allok made his appearance then, carrying a short-handled shovel. The sol-dan was bare-chested, his normally olive skin burned almost black by a lifetime of harsh desert living. His gyff was stuffed into the back pocket of his trousers. It dangled behind him like a long red tail. He looked angry already.


"Gullh," Tryn said, "go fire up Sandy and tell Kash to bring Stinger around. We'll be moving one way or another."


"Yah, he looks ticked. Must not have gone well," the milwer smirked. He ran off to the other wagons.


"Report," Allok snarled. He hated being up when the sun was still out. Too exposed, he'd said in the past.


"Six Crusader trucks down there, in Leng Corrysh's right-of-way. Look untouched." Tryn reached to hand the other quar the binoculars. Allok waved them away.


"How far to the nearest heliograph station?"


"Five miles. On that ridge over there."


"Send the loudmouth. Have him call the Jackal."


((For those using this model for VSF type things it would make a great one-person vehicle. Quar are a little smaller than a human.))

Variations of this product - All Miniatures Supplied Unpainted!