Though they had been traveling together for years, Yul never could quite get over just how much testicular fortitude Vexa seemed to have. The wiry gnoll stood up wearily, his body stiff from the uncomfortable position on a jumble of overturned crates. He stepped out into the blazing heat of the desert sun, the rays producing an almost golden sheen on his coat, grateful that his kind were born and bred for this kind of atmosphere.
“Vexa…” He warned. The tiny female took no notice of him. She was far too busy arguing with a vendor. Of what, Yul didn’t know. He didn’t care. Knowing her, it was likely something stupid and of little consequence. “Vexa! For the love of the gods, woman, could you stop yapping at the man for two minutes and calm down?”
It was a stupid comment, to be sure, and his punishment was swift. The kobold he’d just insulted jabbed the end of her staff into his gut, harrumphing.
“Vexa will NOT calm down!” She screeched angrily. “She is being cheated! It will not be tolerated, and reparations will be made before the caravan is permitted to leave.”
“Urgh… stupid greedy good-fer-nuthin…” Yul muttered, seething at Vexa’s inability to be rational. Of all the times, and of all the places to argue over a few coppers, this had to be one of the worst. "Listen, I don't know how much you think you're being 'cheated' you coin-squeezing cheapskate. I don't care. If you have to, take the difference out of my stipend. The rest of the caravan is dying in the heat. They aren't built to withstand this kind of weather like you and I are. Just take your money and lets go."
Another whack of the staff, and Yul found himself doubled over in pain. She'd struck him squarely in the groin.
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