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After having only a canteen of water tossed into the tent for "dinner," Mirima begins carefully digging through her bag. She shifts herself so that the bag is away from the tent flap should any of the bandits decide to come inside.

Eventually she locates her own small canteen and the traveling rations she's had packed. The biscuits are only a few bites worth and pretty dry, but they'll certainly do in a pinch.

Just then another person comes dragging herself into the tent. Mirima keeps her things hidden until she's sure that the guards aren't following this woman. Thoughts wondering who she is and why she's so suddenly in their midst swirl through Mirima's head. The poor thing gulps down most of the water in the canteen and leaves the rest of them with nothing. There is suddenly an extremely thick layer of tenseness added to the air.

Mirima begins to quietly hum a little tune in the hopes of calming everyone's nerves. She plans on passing her own canteen first to the injured woman and then to Grey. However, another prisoner suddenly runs from the tent to yell, "SANDSTORM," and she decides to wait as the bandits are sure to enter the tent this time.

“No not now!” Iavre grapped the backpack were the water was in “Lets go.”

She quickly runned out “This is bad .” She runned back inside “I never been in a sandstorm .” She look nervous “I will die.”

(she was tied oops sorry i will change it.)

Iavre sit down , she looked upset because she just heared someone shouthing "SANDSTORM!" she never saw a sandstorm , she sighed deep would she die?

The first thing all the bandits did was jump on top of Mystic and shove him back into the prisoner tent, this time tying the dragon man tightly to a pole inside so he couldn't run out again like he had, and then the bandits came to stand at the edge of their temporary camp to survey the sandstorm.

Silveris narrowed his eyes at the sandstorm in the horizon, the dust twisting and turning in the air by gale force winds spiraling into the night sky like a golden tornado, then Silveris glanced at Marcelle, silently asking the bandit leader for further orders.

Marcelle smiled.

"This is not the first sandstorm we've encountered. And it will not be the last. Our camp is on one of the larger dunes so we have the higher ground. Have all the bandits wear their sand masks. I doubt the prisoners will try anything under these conditions, but keep an eye on them anyway. Secure the horses and our supplies and make sure all the tents are fixed to the ground. Silveris, make a fire wall."

Silveris snapped his fingers; a wall of fire surrounded the camp.

A fleck of darker motion blurred into being at the fore of the storm, each loping bound of long legs kicking a mist of grain ahead. The very plane of the rising dune bristled for the suck of air of the vortex that hunted her. It was an inferno of sand rising a steep wall into the infinite arc of the sky and it lapped at her heel and tugged at her apparel with an insistance that could not but spur her to greater vigor. She snarled for the effort and hacked her breath through the cloth visor clipped across her face. In a nearer-than-not distance raced a fire into her vision and the shock the sight wrought surged adrenaline into overworked musculature and animated her worn aspect into greater leaps. She thrust herself like an arrow on the last of it's stuttered velocity. Around thirty feet from the perimeter, she could feel as much as see the fringes of the storm overtake her, outer edges a current of specked sand driven ahead of the torrentuous body, a film of sand swallowing the southron witchling's frantic impetus a lick at a time. She cried out for desperation and lurched through the firewall, carried by tawny winds into a leap that fairly landed her into the midst of the camp tumbling, rolling –soon padding, crawling.

"What were you thinking, dragon boy?" Cordell asked of Mystic as he finished securing him to the pole. "That storm'll eat anything alive out there it finds."

He glanced over at the other prisoners, noticing the new girl (Iavre) sitting among them. "Well, well, well, what do we have here." He strode over and reached down, intended to grab a fistful of hair to drag her to her feet. "You think this is some free shelter to ride out the storm, girl? Who are you?"

Once I was said the word everyone panicked after a few minutes a Bandit with a bandaged eye came up to me "Get out of the storm dragon man!" I followed his orders and but then bandits ran at me and tied up to a pole inside a tent. I looked around seeing prisoners scared and frightened also I saw someone outside crawling inside a storm. I heard the sand clashing and furiously crashing into things. Then Marcelle snapped his creating a firewall. The SandStorm was the most dangerous I have ever seen in my life.

“Iavre , You Guys should do something about the sandstorm .”

“I think nobody likes it to choke in sand.” She sighed “But if I would die then I would die in a cool way , sandstorm could be cool.”

Too much was happening at once.
There was a sandstorm outside, a bad one by the sound of it, and now there was a new girl who crawled into their tent and drank most of their water. Grey watched Cordell grab the girl and couldn't help but smile.
That's what happens when you stumble upon a bandit camp, he thought ruefully.
Mystic was now tied to a pole in the middle of the tent, having ran outside screaming his head off about the oncoming sandstorm. But Grey could hear Marcelle's voice. The bandit leader sounded calm.
This isn't the first time, then, Grey wondered. How much have these people seen?

----

Sampson had just slipped on his sand mask when someone came tumbling through Silveris's wall of fire. She landed in a roll, flames still licking at her clothes.
Sampson didn't hesitate. He threw a knife straight for her face.

“Can you get off me !” She looked frustrated “I don’t know you so don’t touch me!” She tried to push him off her

((Thanks for letting us know Ayelle!))

"Well, princess, shoulda thought of that 'fore sneakin' in here," Cordell said, giving her a shake, then dragging her outside toward Marcelle and Silveris. The sandstorm was already started to bear down and he knew they could not stay outside long. "Got 'em flockin to us today, boss!" he yelled over the rising wind. "Found this one in there hidin' with the prisoners."

"Any reason not to sell 'er to the witch with the rest of 'em?" he asked, on the slim chance this girl was some kind of relation to one of the bandits.

Iavre looked worried “You guys are crazy , I am not something you can sell!”

As soon as the one-eyed bandit drags the intruder out, Mirima pulls her canteen from the bag and hurries it to the injured woman. "Mirima's the name," she says with a smile. "And you don't need to speak if you'd rather not. I might be able to do just a little something for your injuries, but it'd be much more helpful if I still had my mandore. But I guess we'll just have to do without though, won't we?" She smiles as she takes back the canteen, "Better?"

She takes the canteen to Grey next. With his burns, he's more likely than the rest to be dehydrated. "Here. Drink up. You need it. The rest of us can wait." Once he's finished she flops herself back down where she had been before and curls into a ball as if sleeping.

“I NEED WATER , GUYS I NEED IT!” She shits a bit for attention , so she could talk with someone who would be kind “PLEASE!”

Both Silveris and Marcelle turned around at the same time when they heard Iavre's screams for water and Silveris stepped forward to slap the girl but Marcelle stopped him, his grin never wavering, and Marcelle bent down to inspect their new prisoner.

"Well done, Cordell! You're right, we seem to be a magnet for intruders. She's in better condition than the others, so we should be able to easily sell her. Oh little girl you're in for a ride now! And do be quiet, us bandits are not very fond of screaming, dehydrated desert rats. Put her in the prisoner's tent, and make sure you tie her tightly."

“No please not!” She start crying and tears dropped on her skin “I just wanna go home .”

“Please.” She looked hopefully “Don’t do that too me.”

Rook took the canteen gratefully and held it to her lips with her bound hands. She probably could've drank most of it, but she knew others were in need as well, so gave it back to Mirima after only a few gulps. "A bit. Thanks. I'm Rook. How did..."

She left her question unasked as the tent flap was pushed open again; Cordell returning already with the girl still in tow. Sand blew in behind him and the tent flap waved wildly in the wind. It looked like the girl was crying, but Rook was in no position to intervene as the one-eyed bandit bound Iarve's hands tightly and just shoved her toward the other bound prisoners.

"Maybe you'll find a good home with the desert witch." Cordell smirked. "I hear she takes good care of her stock. Needs 'em healthy and fat 'fore she cooks 'em up in her stew pot."

He laughed at his own cleverness, then pulled his bandana up over his face and left the tent, at least pulling the flap closed and tying it so that sand wasn't being blown around as much.

"Are you okay?" Rook asked Iarve. Of course not... what a silly question... none of them were okay...

Iavre looked away , and looked painfully too her hands .she wanted too say something , but she simply didn’t want to talk anymore .

She look frighten , a witch ! Those guys where crazy and evil , so why could a witch like that not exist . She looked too her dress it was wet because of her tears

Grey gratefully swallowed Mirima's water, although he was careful to only take a sip. Cordell had dragged the new girl outside and, a few minutes later, dragged her back into the tent. She had tears on her face.
"Hey, hey, get it together," Grey said, staring at the girl uncertainly. He shifted the chains around his arms.
He hated watching people cry.