Throngs of species gathered around several camp fires, having just been pitched. There were no tents, no shanties. There was never time for that, just enough to set up a fire and sit with dread. Though not all the refugees were tattered and possession-less. There were many dwarves who were rugged, and well armed, several kobolds and other species who seemed like they have been through several hard fights. Most of their eyes were tired, yet hard and determined. They kept watch over everyone, scouts constantly coming and going, relaying orders to a few select persons of authority.
The fear of freezing was not amongst the worries as the summer season had arrived. It was starvation and the constant fear that the Mad King's armies would soon be upon them. There was a quietness about the throngs of dislocated families and species. There was no cheer, no merriment. Food was being rationed now, the supplies were running low and many of the former slaves and refugees who had taken up arms were out, trying their best to harvest what they can.
The entire gathering sat upon a bluff that had a small path leading down several hundred feet to a desert below where the sun was coming close to the dunes into the far distance. The only known path for salvation on the western edges of the plans. Behind were rolling hills, covered in thick forests while to the north and south were climbing mountains.
At the edge of the camp a small fire burns fitfully, the flames now fanned, the next almost smothered by the torrid wind rising from the sands below. A figure sits beside the fire, silhouetted by the setting sun, gazing at the desert. She seems lost in thought as she absentmindedly trails her fingers over the back of the young lioness stretched out at her feet, who is presently licking lacerated paws. The rasp of tongue on skin and the subdued crackle of the fire are the only sounds that can be heard nearby, although others trickle in from the camp - voices and cries, the snorting of horses and creaking of wagons, although most seem muted and faraway to the woman at her fire.
She had never seen the desert before, and the vastness of it, the lines drawn by the dunes against the horizon, the patterns that the wind scratches into the sands, the immense presence of it, its quiet breathing - all of this fascinates her. She wonders at the obstacles that someone attempting to cross it would have to face. Water, obviously, would be a problem, but she is not very concerned about that. Food now, that would be the greater challenge; she can see that there is some plant life, and where there are plants there are insects, and small birds, rodents and such. But they would not be nearly enough to sustain a large group, so they would need to gather provisions before setting out, food that would keep in the scorching heat - dried meat and fruit, nuts and seeds. And the heat, yes, she can feel the hot breath of the desert even up here. They would have to travel by night and rest by day, so they would need some kind of shelter from the sun. She sighs and rubs her eyes, already irritated by the fine sand. The lioness raises her head, blinks, then sneezes mightily once, twice, thrice, shaking her head and pawing at her nose in frustration.
"It gets you too, doesn't it? The damn sand is everywhere, and it's only going to get worse." the woman says, patting the lioness sympathetically. Her voice is slightly slurred, rounding off the edges of the words.
She'll have to do something about the sand. She pulls at the scarf that shrouds the lower half of her face and regards the lioness thoughtfully. The gesture reveals the woman's unusual features - lips stretching over fangs, a tiny nose and wide, muscular jaws. She places the scarf experimentally over the lioness's nose and mouth, but it is quickly torn out of her hands as a massive paw swats at it.
"Fine, then. But don't complain to me when the sand and the dust make you sneeze again. And we'll have to wrap your paws, that sand must be hot as all hells. For that matter..." She extends her legs in front of her, contemplating dirty toes peeking through ragged holes in her shoes.
Damn the humans! Whatever they did not take, they burned. Such senseless waste! She thinks of all that Haven's storehouses had - preserved food, fur and hides, sturdy clothing and boots, tools, toys... all gone now. Looted and burned, and the people who had lived there, her people, taken or slaughtered. The muscles in her jaw bunch as she grinds her fangs together. Sensing her mood, the lioness growls low in the throat, tufted tail lashing the ground and raising puffs of dust. The woman shakes her head and rubs angrily at her eyes. Damn dust.
The blue scaled kobold was making his rounds, clad in a cloak with the hood pulled up slightly over his crown of horns. His yellow eyes quickly scanning the refugees. He was in charge of the security detail for the camp and he was growing anxious by the lack of fighters they had. They had arms and weapons but they didn’t want to just give the first one a sword and tell them to help them defend. It took more than just fear, and fearful fighters could ruin everything right now.
All the while he was roaming the camp he was muttering small incantations that helped him detect magic or sniff out any potential casters. His eyes evaluating every single one huddled near a fire. Things will not be well if they are forced into the desert without the guides Octavian spoke of. Each passing day that gone without response signal only put him more and more on edge. He had gathered most of the kobolds able to fight from the refugees and had already delegated many tasks to them, but that’s his own people, they only thrived when working for a greater purpose, tribe, then themselves.
Her shook the thoughts away as he sighed, becoming slightly weary of trying to find someone capable. Moving towards the edges of the camp, he could at least post guard and keep an eye on everyone. But that thought quickly was interrupted when he saw a lone figure by a tiny camp fire. There were loaners in the herd of refugees of course, but they tend to get over things and bunch up around the bigger fires.
He’d make his way, over, pulling the hood from his head as he approached them, his eyes watching the lioness carefully as he made sure not to come from an angle that would surprise them as it was apparent the lioness was agitated just by the way her tail thumped the ground.
”Why alone?” he asked simply, his voice a bit rough and low. The two reminded him of a few companions lost along the way which only brought a tinge of sadness to his appearance. ”Forget question, may I join?” He tilted his head at that time then, trying to smile, but really it came off as a goofy reveal of sharp teeth. He’d glance out to the dunes, sighing heavily for a moment before shaking his head again, resuming his gaze upon Inja, hoping she would allow him to sit with her.
The lone campfires always were the most interesting he thought.
The woman responds with her own awkward, fanged smile, making an inviting gesture towards her small fire. "Please." She tilts her head towards the desert, her eyes drifting across the dunes for a moment. "It's beautiful out there. Never expected it." With a start, she realizes just how lonely she felt. After Haven, she thought she could simply return to her solitary life, but it wasn't that easy. Here, she was surrounded by people, but they didn't feel like Haven had felt, not at all. They didn't feel like... like a community. But perhaps that would come in time, if they didn't die first. She shoots a grateful glance at the kobold for his small gesture of companionship.
The lioness chooses this moment to sniff at the newcomer and extend her tongue for an experimental lick. "Yama! No licking strangers!" The woman swats her with the end of her scarf, but her tone is more amused than anything. Turning to the kobold, she offers an apologetic shrug. "She likes you. Her former companion was of your race. Nagash. Great hunter." The lioness perks up at the name, half-rising from her prone position. The woman frowns as she reaches out to scratch her behind the ears. "Humans killed him. Almost killed her, too."
After an awkward pause, she extends her hand to the kobold. Her nails are narrow, thick and curved, almost like a dog's. Or a wolf's. "Name's Inja . Humans gave me stupid name, didn't like it, so I changed it. She's Yama. We come from..." she gestures southwards. "From forest south-west of here, across plains."
At that moment, a light shoots out across the desert and begins gently floating down. "Look, Yama, a falling star!"
Ishak slowly sat by the fire, letting off a tired sigh. This kobold tended to sigh quite a bit apparently. Looking back up to Inja smiling wearily, though he would quickly follow her gesture to the desert, ”Yes, it’s quite… surreal.”[b] He would give a more warmed look to Inja, it was nice to sit down with someone, especially as he had a feeling his presence helped somewhat. He felt sorry for all the displaced species from the war and wished he could help even more, but survival is such a tricky thing.
A quick yip sounded from him as he felt a prickly lick over his scales, but the yip would turn to a chortling laugh as he would hold out a taloned hand, [b]”Licks good, liking me good.” He laughed lightly, though that laugh would be gone just as soon as it came. ”It’s pity, Humans killing everything. Some humans not bad, some died to help us get here.” It seemed like it took quite a bit of effort for the Kobold to speak without a clipped nature, ”Glad they didn’t get companion. She seems strong and good friend.”
Taking her hand he would give a friendly and heartfelt shake, ”Eeen-juh.” he tried saying for just a moment, ”Good call, change name means it’s yours. Yama good name good... Mines Ishak” He paused, a sad realization from what she said where she came from, ”They that far to west too?” A troubled look came over his face, but he jumped when she pointed to a falling star. He would turn and see what she was speaking of.
”Not falling star, signal for help, been sending them every night for a week or so…” he looked to Inja, ”Hopefully answer will come, help will guide us through dessert, get us someplace safe.” he paused for a moment before continuing, ”You come from a long way. You must be able to handle yourself. Ever thought of helping the others?”
Inja looks skeptical at Ishak's claim that some humans were not bad, but decides against arguing with him just now. Beginnings were always tricky, and she would not to ruin this one. Taking his small hand in her large one, she grasps it carefully and turns a frank gaze on him.
"Ishak. I am pleased to meet you. And I mean that, I do not tell lies like humans do. How if someone asks how you are doing, you are supposed to say you're fine even if you're not." She snorts. "And yes, the armies got as far as Emeralia Forest. That is where we were living... before." A muscle twitches in her jaw. "They hold the plains, too. They'll be at the ridge before long."
She nods at his explanation of the falling light, looking thoughtfully around the refugee camp. What she sees does not encourage her; few resources, little organization, hopelessness. She wasn't fond of rules and laws and people telling other people what to do, but she recognizes the looming crisis. Without a strong hand to guide them, show them how to work together, they would end up as bloody scraps when the human army would roll over them.
"Hopefully, yes. Do you know where the safe place is? Does anyone? For how long will you wait?" She turns her gaze to the desert again. The stark landscape is like a magnet for her eyes, a place where it seems that no life could exist, but she knows better. Life always finds a way. The sands tease her with their buried secrets and the winds whisper in a language that she can almost understand.
"We can help. Nobody asked us, yet. We can hunt, track, trap, gather food. We can fight, if needed. Don't need no weapons, either. And..." She picks up an empty wooden cup, passes her hand over its mouth, mutters a few words and offers the cup to Ishak, now full of clear, fresh water. "Simple magic, but I reckon it will be useful down there. Can't make enough for everyone, and food and shelter would still be a problem." She pauses a moment, frowning, then shakes herself all over, like a dog.
"Enough talk of grim things! Tomorrow will bring what it will. For now, we have some dried meat to share, a fire and a beautiful view. Let's trade stories. I love stories."
As she wandered around the camp she caught the sound of a couple of voices, and at least one of them sounded distinct familiar. As she quietly drew closer to the source of the voices she saw Ishak and one of the other members of refugee camp exchanging words. She breathed out a sigh of relief upon seeing Ishak.
They had been on such a long journey, and she has had to say goodbye to many friends she just met and had gotten to know. It is a sad reality of the world they live in, it's often too hard to hang on to the comforts of friendship and companionship when you're forcefully split up or killed. But she DID have hope that one day they might realize a world where she didn't have to fear for her life every single day.
She didn't want to interrupt their conversation so she quietly waited for there to be a lull in their conversation before she approached. Of course as the conversation went on she began to fidget and twitch, starting to grow impatient while she waited. Eventually she sighed in frustration and sat down, waiting for them to finish completely.
In the dim light of the setting sun, an elf women strides through the camp, her movements lithe and graceful. With the wind picking up, she darts closer to one campfire, before drifting onto the next. In stark contrast to the many refugees, the elf feels seemingly relaxed about being on her own, compared to the many groups huddling together.
Not for the first time, Jasmine cursed the fact that it had to be a damn desert she had found herself in. The majority of her life had been in heavily wooded area's, and then, while enslaved, a more heavily urban area. While each environment had their differences, at least there was like, cover, a landmark, anything to break up the eyesore that was miles and miles of sand. To take her mind of it, Jasmine tried to think of area's worse than where she would currently be, but for the moment she was coming up short, making her slightly more irritated than her usual calm temperament.
Of course, there were advantages to the setting. It was quite for one thing, which Jasmine always appreciated, and unlike many, at least she had her magic she could draw on to Create Water for herself, but this had led to her current problem - finding a suitable campfire. She had had to trek for ages to find a suitably isolated location to wash her hair and get the cursed sand out of it, since she hadn't really wanted to be smothered by a crowd of people demanding to fix their water needs. The result, was that she hadn't returned to camp much later, after of which most of the fires had already been set.
Drinking in her surroundings, Jasmine drifted, searching for a suitable fire to share. The smaller the group the better, Jasmine appreciated more quieter settings and naturally gravitated to the outskirts of the camp. Safer certainly to be surrounded by multiple people, but being a slave meant being in constant close proximity to other people, being it other slaves or masters, and as a result she preferred smaller groups, giving her a greater sense of freedom. As she wandered, she observed a blue scaled creature in conversation with another female, notably with a lion settled at her feet. Neither party seemed to be screaming and running away in panic so Jasmine assumed a pet of some kind, and deemed it relatively safe to approach. "Do any of you mind if I share your fire for the night?" she asks softly, after making her presence known by openly stepping into the light, eyeing the lioness carefully, just in case.
He only grimly nodded at the news of the hold that the humans had. He hoped it stopped at the plans but at least they haven’t made it into the west or east yet. But when she was inquired about the help he nodded slowly, ”Blue wizard, Octavian. He knows, he’s one of the species that lives in this desert. Big city, hidden and safe. He’s signalling guides, they come and help safely through the desert.” He paused, thinking about the wait, ”Well, I got scouts south along pass. They will signal is army is approaching. But hopefully we wait not much longer. Can’t camp here more than week more.”
When Inja explained she could help he clapped his hands together excitedly, ”Good! Good! We need helpers, Desert will be hard, hard to keep everyone safe.” He glanced over to the herd of people and shook his head, ”It’s quite difficult….” he paused when Inja mentioned to not speak of grim things, which only caused him to chuckle, his yellow eyes squinting slightly as he did so. ”Ah stories! I can do.”
Though as he was about to regale a story about stumbling upon a cranky dragon, he noticed Breewyn settled herself in, looking a little annoyed for having to wait. He could only laugh at her appearance, ”Ah, Breewyn, this is Inja, Inja, my friend Breewyn.” He was never good at making greetings not sound confusing. ”She one of originals, from slave camp that freed themselves. She mends wounds.” Giving a curt nod, ”But stories! he’d say excitedly as he leaned forward, ”Tell you about cranky dragon me and tribe found, we…”
He’d stop in his story telling once more as he noticed a elf drifting towards them, who’d eventually request to join them. Ishak shuffled over in response, hand coming to pat the log, which he apparently was sitting on now. ”I’m okay with it, if Inja is. What is your name? I’m Ishak.”
She jumped at the mention of her name and began to wring her hands out nervously as she approached. "I mean yeah I have been with Ishak and Octavian for quite some time. I do my best to try and be helpful in all that I do." She pulled her hat off and did a little curtsy, her long dark hair spilling down in front of her. When she straightened, she looked like a disheveled mess and huffed out of annoyance as she took a seat near Ishak opposite of Inja and her furry companion.
It took her several minutes to straighten and tuck her hair back up into her hat as Ishak was about to tell stories, before another newcomer had interjected. She turned to see the lovely woman, as Ishak started addressing her.
I hope Octavian is able to establish his contact with his people. We can't just stay here in the sands forever. She thought to herself, mumbling a bit under her breath as she stared at her hands folded in her lap. Her ears perked up, and she returned her attention back once more to the present.
She gave Ishak a little nudge in the ribs with an elbow. "You know you don't have to introduce me so formally." She gave him a strange look. "I do prefer friends to call me Bree." She beamed a cheery smile, that seemed rather uncharacteristic to her tired ring-encircled eyes and her beaten and tattered clothing.
Inja sweeps her arm in an inviting gesture to the newcomers. She was glad of their presence right now; they seemed different from most of the refugees she'd seen, without that air of defeat. She hadn't met many gnomes, but any friend of Ishak would be welcome at her fire. The elf seemed on her own, even more reason to welcome her. Perhaps they could talk about forests together. Yama sniffs at both of them in turn, from a distance, then settles back at Inja's feet, stretching her paws and yawning hugely.
"Bree. Healers are always good to have as friends." Inja grins in response to the gnome's cheery smile, displaying her mouthful of fangs. She points to herself, then the lioness. "Inja. Yama. We come from the south and west. Anyone thirsty?" She offers the cup of water to those sitting around the fire, refilling it as needed, then leans back, stretching out her legs and lacing her hands behind her neck. Firelight plays across hairy skin and corded muscle, here and there glinting white over scars.
"This Octavian, he in charge here? If so, I'd like to speak to him. I don't like sitting on my hands, and every hour I spend trapped here makes my skin crawl. It is good that you have sentries, but we need to be ready to move out fast. I was provider for a... a village. I can go hunt, gather food. How many people are here? What provisions do you already have?" She unlaces her hands and shakes her head, patting the air towards Ishak. "I am sorry, I know I said no more talk of these things tonight. It's just... they weigh on my mind. I cannot stop the human armies, but if I can do something, anything, to snatch the prey from their jaws..." She clenches a fist. Yama licks it.
Jasmine nods her thanks, settling down on the log, entirely relaxed when she observes the lioness still at peace on the ground. Taking a moment to ponder the kobolds question, Jasmine reflects how best to answer it. "My name is Jasmine, or Jazz for short, although please excuse me if I'm slow to respond to it when its used - its been rather a long time since anyone has used my actual name."
Jasmine broods for a moment, drumming her fingers on the tough bark of the log she is sitting on. The texture reminds her of home, and relaxes her from a moment of tension. Pausing only to gather her thoughts, she addresses Ishak and Inja, before she continues speaking shifting her body posture slightly to continuing the topic of discussion at hand. "I too wouldn't mind helping. I'm not really much of a foot soldier, I'm more of a hit and run kind of woman, going after single targets, scouting, and so on. Open combat - not really my thing unfortunately" she finishes, before flicking her gaze towards Inja, her eyes bright with sudden enthusiasm. "Oh, when you hunt, do you use a bow, like I would?" she exclaims, momentarily excited at the idea of perhaps finding a kindred spirit.
Yelped at the poke of the ribs, more surprised than anything. ”Ay Ay,” he would smirk and turn his attention to Inja’s question asking if Octavian was a leader, ”Of sorts. This his plan. We make plans as group. What plan we chose, the one who thought it is leader at time.” He motioned towards the blue Illadari standing off alone in the distance, eagerly awaiting a response. ”His plan was best for survival. Mad King special interested in us.” He scratched his chin for a moment, contemplating on how to explain such a thing.
He’d take the offering of water, gulping it down quickly before smiling his toothy thanks. ”Jazz easier to say for me. But its good both you want to help. We need more help.” He paused for a moment, waving his scaled hand, dismissing the apology from Inja, ”No apology, it's ok. We have over… four hundred? Last count. We had plenty of food to last, but it's been used mostly through the plains. We got building stuff, dwarves making sand sleds to help traverse. Got some horses. We got plenty hunters out now. Forest is pretty… bare.” He shook his head once more. He’d fall silent, before shaking his thoughts clear, letting Inja and Jazz converse for a moment.
Still hyper focused on Inja, Jasmine is uncharacteristically buoyant and the prospect of shared enthusiasms, before she suddenly switches her intense glance towards Ishak for a moment, giving the kobold a quizzical look.
"What you you mean by the Mad King taking a special interest in you? Do you mean an interest in all of us, as in everyone here, fleeing, or are there individuals here in this camp that he might be more interested in as well?", the female elf remarks, exceptionally curious about the given example, wondering why such a powerful ruler would be taking such an intense interest.
"Bow? No. Bows were more Nagash's thing. I use traps and snares for smaller game. For bigger game..." She extends her hand, displaying her claw-like nails, flexing and unflexing her fingers. "I use claw and fang. You see, hm, how to put this... I have beast blood in me, yes? I say "beast" not as a bad thing, understand. And it lets me... transform my body. Proper claws, bigger fangs, faster, stronger, that sort of thing. Not very often, mind you, it's quite exhausting, but long enough to run down some prey."
She watches her audience, attempting to hide her anxiety. People in Haven had been accepting of her... special abilities, even found them useful. These ones didn't exactly strike her as conformists, but you never knew how someone might react. Will they be repulsed? Afraid? She tries a tentative smile to put them at ease.
Ishak scratches his chin in thought, trying to rationalize the events and put them in a distinct easy way to answer Jasmines questions. "We destroyed slave camp, found lost city and something he was looking for. Liberated the Black Mines..." he paused for a moment as he cleared his throat, "We been real thorn in butt." he'd give a smile, "But the fleeing got attention, city we going to he wants. But has been unable to find it. So uh... interested in group." He'd make a gesture towards the entire camp of refugees. It was hard not to attract attention was an exodus of non-humans was happening and migrating together.
His attention would divert to Inja's explanation, he clapped his hands excitedly, "You take true form! I study on how to take true form to! Be more powerful and strong." He was actually quite excited about this. "Want to see, when uh... time is right!" he seemed to be fidgeting a bit with excited energy from learning that Inja could transform.
No sooner had she spilled the last of her captors' blood, Ealiannë had fled the human's camp having little time to scavenge but a pair of blades and a blanket from the captain's tent. She didn't know what direction she fled, and it made little difference in her mind. The young kitsune's only thought was to get as far from the dead humans as possible. For three nights she fled until exhaustion over took her, only staying conscious long enough to find a refuge to hide throughout the daytime and regain what little strength she had.
Yesterday at dusk, she had awoken with a sense of dread and uneasiness. She lay still for several minutes until she saw the first movement of the small elf creeping through the tall grass. The elf came to a crouched halt less than ten feet from Ealiannë and froze. Amidst the disturbing sounds of silence, the elf sat motionless for a long while before he finally exhaled and stood up to look towards the approaching desert. There in the distant night sky a glowing star drifted to earth. The elf relaxed visibly, even smiling as the star faded from view. As the elf leaned forward to take a stride, he collapsed to the ground, his still open eyes gazing directly at Ealiannë. She watched as a tear ran down his cheek and the light faded from his eyes.
She had not heard the bow string and neither had the elf. Yet, the arrow protruding from the base of his skull left little doubt the some where to the east, a hunter had spied its prey. Silently crying, Ealiannë watched as a human stripped the elf of his possessions and carved the right ear from his head. Slipping the ear into a pouch on his hip, the human scurried off into the night with his bounty.
It took several more hours before, Ealiannë felt it safe to leave her hiding spot. Searching his body she found nothing left of value but his worn leather armor and a blood soaked cloak. Ealianne hurried herself and stripped the armor. Not too bad a fit... and it will at least provide some warmth at night, she thought. Looking east, she thought of the falling star and took note of its location. With a deep breath, she scampered out into the night to find it.
The following evening, Ealiannë came upon the refugee camp and crept up to edge of the light from the first campfire. Staying in the shadows, she watched as a group of females gathered with a kobold. Male? she thought. Ealianne had never seen the race before and couldn't be sure if the kobold was male of female. It makes no difference... you will not let them hurt you again. Some relief found her as she saw that no human was present. A large woman had appeared as such from the start before Ealiannë noticed her yellow eyes and fanged grin. She started to step forward to find warmth, when the growl of the large feline startled Ealiannë. "Oh!"
The sound of conversation came to her a little before the smell of smoke and cat. She waited downwind and listened for a bit. The little dragonkin had mentioned attacking the humans and was looking for a group. It wasn't family, but at least it would be something to do.
As she approaches, she sees a woman coming from the other side, and hears her startle a bit. She coughs a bit as she approaches to let them know she's coming up. She's carrying two skinny hares and few lizards that had just enough meat to be worth the hassle. Not bad for the number of people in the area.
"Trade some meat for some fire and some company." she offers.
You see a Speaker, one of a caste of servants tasked with acting as representatives of human masters who are too busy or too proud to directly interact with their slaves. They are part majordomo, part emissary, and part valet. This often earns them the ire of other slaves, who view them as collaborators with the human masters. While they are treated as beloved pets rather than chattel by most humans, they are slaves nonetheless.
This one is tall and thin, like most of his kind. He resembles a human with dark gray skin, lightening to a cream color on his torso like a shark. His eyes are solid white, with no pupils. His head and face are shaved. He is dressed in a weathered artisan's outfit, and carries a small dagger at his belt.
He comes off like most Speakers you have ever met -- effete and soft. It isn't his fault, really. His people are diplomats, scribes, and valets to the masters. While they are still slaves, they certainly never get their hands dirty. His manner is cultured and self-possessing, but you can see that anxiety is starting to make him wary and skittish.
At the gnoll's approach, Qahnaarin turns abruptly and appears startled. "By all means! Please, allow me to make room." Qahnaarin scoots to the side to make room for the gnoll. After she sits, he scoots a bit more. He gives her sidelong glances and tries to avoid eye-contact.
The camp was... different than what she was used to, but at the same time, better than things had been as her people had circled around the southern side of the desert in an attempt to escape from the Mad King's armies. They'd been hoping to find power, resistance, someone who could break the back of his forces... but coming out this way, all they'd found was despair.
Was this your will, Tarak? Or have we just not yet seen what it is we're here for?
Arion shook her head slightly, but kept her hood up and around her body. The last thing she needed was an incident, especially when things could turn messy so quickly. Instead, she looked around the area, watching as a Speaker moved to be hospitable. Now that she was used to - though, this far outside her home, she doubted anyone would just show deference to her. For that matter, she wasn't arrogant enough to believe she deserved it. "Speaking of room, has there been any thought given to making the camp more... orderly? To give everyone enough space, and ensure we are prepared to leave safely if need be?" she inquired. One had to make connections somehow.
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Maqli scowled as she returned to the camp grounds, Kalsak at her side. She was in a foul mood for many reasons--ill hunting only one of them. The prospect of a desert wasn't one she liked to face, used to hills and rocky outcroppings as she was. Something about the wide open space set her ill at ease, although she didn't care to admit it. And the running aspect wasn't something she craved, either; Maqli was a hunter and fighter by nature, and while she understood biding her time and striking when the enemy was weak, this felt like something entirely different. But the old lands were no longer safe, the Vargrrashat overrun by the humans as they expanded ever further... It had been a long and troubled march north from the Green Peaks, but they'd found the many other races and, uneasy as it was, they'd fallen in among the masses.
Maqli's thoughts are interrupted by Kalsak's abrupt halt. She looks curiously at the great beast, who sniffs and then gives a low sound, the strange growling rumble that passes as a warcat's purr. Maqli stares toward whatever caught Kalsak's attention: a campfire by the edge of the mass, around which a number of figures sit. After a moment, she picks out the likely cause for Kalsak's interest, in the form of another big cat. With a sidelong glance at her companion, Maqli strides for the fire, and the warcat bounds forward to stay by her side.
As she comes into the light of the fire, Maqli grunts to announce her presence--a rolling, throaty grumble not unlike Kalsak's purring. Her green skin and slight tusks immediately display her orcish blood, but equally obvious is that she's not a full orc--her figure somewhat too slight and short, her skin not quite so ruddy and rough. By her side is a strange beast not commonly seen by other races: the warcat looks something like a large feline with hard, armored skin rather than a furry hide. This warcat seems singularly interested in Inja's lioness, its head cocked to one side as its claws idly scrape the ground.
"Sorry to interrupt," Maqli says. Her command of the common tongue has grown since leaving the Vargrrashat Crags, but she still speaks quick and somewhat gruffly. "Karsak smelled your cat. I think he wants to play, or at least smell." She glances around at the disparate group and grunts again. "You are all odd. Not a tribe. What brings you together?"
Bree became distracted as another figure joined their conversation, and then another, and then yet another still. By her count after all had arrived there were nine individuals all arrayed around this fire. She looked curiously from one to the next, seeing another large feline companion intrigued her.
She stayed fairly quiet and smiled as she listened to Ishak, Inja and Jazz as they spoke, but she was also really curious to hear about the others that joined them at their fire. To her, company was always welcome and she loved to hear stories of far away places. She scooted over a bit closer to Ishak to give others some room to sit by the fire with them, and she quietly spoke. "You're definitely welcome to join us by the fire, the night air is rather chill here." Her smile never wavered, and her tired eyes remind you a bit of a raccoon with deep circles around them from restlessness.
Taalik had stayed toward the outskirts of the company, both during the day and at night. There were some here with a mind for defense, but the were all city and town minded folk. They were used to buildings and walls. Even the dwarves, perhaps the most militant of the caravan, were used to their great mountain fortresses and tunnels. No, they were all ill equipped for the great open plains of the wild. Too many looked inward, too few out toward the beyond. Where their enemy would come from. Where the humans, likely tracking so large a ragtag band of misbegotten refugees, would be hiding in the darkness, waiting to strike. What I would not give for a good bow at this time. Taalik had so little to his name. His possessions he had lost when they'd first been captured. And he had been in such a dazed state upon finding the horror of his pack that he had not even considered collecting what he could before joining the caravan. No, what I lost was not possessions. What I lost was so much more...
Taalik looked up as Katras drew his attention back toward the camp. A small group had formed nearby around a fire. The group was an interesting mix, to say the least. A kobold, an elf, a gnome, a... well she wasn't a human, and she had a great cat with her. There's something about her scent, something almost familiar. Now a tall one is joining them... no idea what it is. Wait, I know that smell - Gnoll. He saw the massive gnoll walking into the circle and his blood immediately began to boil. He recalled the ambush during his Challenge. He thought back to several other conflicts over the years. He prepared to charge...
But then paused. No, gnolls were beings of hate. If a gnoll was here, them like him, it was an enemy to the humans. Gnolls were brutal, vicious fighters. He knew that first hand. Perhaps, in their hate they could find a common enemy. Perhaps, just perhaps, they could coexist for a time. "Damn," Taalik whispered as he walked in toward the fire.
As he approaches, Taalik takes note of even more joining the fireside council. Then he hears the distinct whispers of seeking retribution from the humans. Yes, this is where I am meant to be now.
Stepping slowly into the firelight, Taalik offered a bit of a smirk. "This band of lost souls have room for two more, especially two seeking a shot at those who have done this to us?" The humanoid standing before you is a little shy of six feet tall, with a well muscled, lean physique that is covered in gray-brown fur and topped with a distinctly lupine head. Green and hazel flecked eyes gaze questioningly about the assembled group. The man is dressed in simple, knee length dark leather breeches with a hooded vest upon his chest. Blood and scars stain his fur in multiple places, including what could almost be markings upon his face. He is a Canidae, one of the nomadic race of wolf-men that make their homes in the uncharted forests and plains of Kalinthros.
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Kyarla busies herself preparing the rabbits and lizards and skewering them for cooking. As she smells the canidae, she does turn to look at him. Their eyes lock for a moment, evaluating each other. The first breath is tense, the second is wary, and the third breath is calm. This wasn't the time to address old issues.
She nods at their new understanding and gets back to handing over skewers to the group. It wasn't much, but a few bites of fresh meat would be a relief after weeks of old rations.
"The blue dragonkin was talking about being involved on a raid on the humans. Freeing people from chains. We need more talk of that."
Arion listened carefully as the others spoke. She hadn't gotten much of an answer to her question, but perhaps that was to be expected. The future was more important anyway. She addressed Maqli first. "Same as everyone here, I think." she said softly. "We may not have been born together, but the Mad King's armies have driven all of us together. In that regard, no matter how high or low we once were, now we're all the same. It's been... educational. As for freeing people..." she looked at Kyarla. "Talk is good, but action is better. Do we have the right tools to break chains with, and good information about where they're located? Fools' errands and petty vengeance are beneath us, but if we can make a difference, and replenish the camp's supplies while we're at it..."
As far as she could tell, that was one of their most important priorities. She didn't want to be the one to say they shouldn't help people, but with the camp's supplies already being rationed, adding even more people without a plan for feeding them was... less than totally wise. It probably said something about her natural optimism that she was already jumping to taking things a step further, though. Stealing a lot of supplies would strengthen their camp and weaken their enemy, while just rescuing others would... probably not affect the Mad King's armies that much, actually.
"If I may humbly suggest," the Speaker at the fire raised his hand gingerly. "While your enthusiasm for freeing your fellow slave is an honorable cause, it would be a shame if they were freed only to starve beside us in the desert. As I understand, our supplies are quite limited. Might we not think of helping them after we find a more permanent refuge? He pauses a beat. "That is, of course, unless we were to free slaves on a farm..."
As more and more gathered around the fire, Ishak was warmed by the eager faces looking to strike back, to help and assist. Though he quickly took note that this motley groups differences will create some tension but for now everyone had a common enemy. He would log the tense stance between the Gnoll and this other, the Canidea. He’d notice one who was approaching the camp fire and seemed to have been slightly dissuaded, he would make a welcoming hand gesture towards her. ”Come to fire, sit and enjoy.” He’d offer the stranger a smile before focusing on the entire group as a whole.
His yellow eyes would dart around to the assembling cast, with all their different perspectives, views and opinions. Some order would need to be established. As the words began to flow, Ishak would situate himself by standing to garner attention…
How much attention a two foot and some inches tall creature could garner. He’d clap his hands together to help make a point for some momentary pause in the conversation. ”Action, is good, though we want to free as many as possible… it’s difficult.” He’d pause and look at the eager ones, the fighters. ”I understand pain, I understand loss. I understand wanting blood.” Ishak looked a bit more concentrated on speaking, trying to make sure his common wasn’t jibbed or broken.
”Food is scarce. Forest can’t sustain this many. Plan is to get all to New Alexandria. Octavians home.” He’d punctuate this with a pointed claw towards the blue Illadari standing alone, eagerly watching the skies. ”We can find safety for ones who can’t fight, then we, can move to make first strike with one’s willing to die for cause.” He wasn’t going to sugar coat it, ”Many, some friends, already died getting here. We lost many, will lose some more, but, save as many as we can.”
He’d look to the half-orc then, ”Brought together by fate. Pain. Grief and vengeance. We all want our homes back.” he’d turn to the one who spoke about order, she looked human but something was off about her. He studied her for just a quick second before continuing. ”Patrols and fighters, hunters gathering. Advanced scouts, food rationing. We can’t fortify much more, would slow down once we get signal from desert or our scouts send red flare.” He’d point to the eastern skies, ”If red flare, we go into dessert, guide or no. There’s always more to do, but… time is running short. I have feeling, this night will be last we on bluff.” He’d look at the assembled group and smiled, genuinely.
”We are all displaced, all with no homes and on the run. But, what is your goal for here? What do you desire? Once we reach the sanctuary, what will you do? Will you join the fight? It's important to say what you want from this. So we understand one another.” An open question to the entire group, a question that seemed to have some importance to the kobold. "I seek to take back what I lost. To tear this... tyrant from his throne."
"True form? You have a funny name for it. But yes, I will show you."
A startled gasp sounds from beyond the firelight and she follows Yama's gaze to another newcomer. "Down, Yama! Come, don't fear, she does not bite." One by one, more trickle in. The gnoll's kind she knows, and she brings an offering of food, which instantly elevates her in Inja's regard. The grey one's kind she does not know. His form is a little too close to human for comfort, as is the white-haired girl, but the others seem to accept them, so she will do the same. Besides, she supposes her own current form is human enough. A half-orc, a wolfman - what a gathering!
"Karsak, is it? He's beautiful. And welcome to play with Yama, I think she misses having a four-legged companion. Well, other than me." Inja grins her fanged grin and laughs at her own joke.
Her little fire had attracted quite a crowd, but she was pleased. This was starting to feel like Haven. All of different breeds, all talking together, sharing food, perhaps sharing a future. She finds herself smiling more and more, despite the grimness of the situation. Four hundreds, that is a lot of people to feed. And the forest bare, he says...
"I agree with the grey one. Food and our own survival has to be our priority. We can't smash any chains if we're dead. Don't think me a coward. When we raid the humans, I'll be the first to rip off their faces. They owe me a debt of blood. Killed my family twice." Her good mood is over in a flash, replaced by sullen anger and smouldering glares into the fire as she sees in her mind the scenes of carnage, the broken bodies, bloodied fur...
She nodded as she listened to every word Ishak had to say, and she looked around at the faces of the others for their reactions. It was true, they couldn't keep such a large group of homeless wanderers provisioned forever. They probably couldn't do it for much longer honestly. She did agree with him that they needed to do something soon.
She stood up next to him. "We all have lost loved ones and even new friends we made since being driven from our homes and into slavery. I have seen many I care about slip from my grasp and felt powerless to make a difference." She grit her teeth with a flash of anger that she rarely displays, before it's quickly replaced with her calm and tired looking demeanor. I've gotten this far with you, I will do my best to keep going." She said smiling and then feeling all the eyes of the others on her, blushed and pulled her hat down over her face. The action caused her to stumble a bit and slip back to sitting beside him. She bowed her head, her covered face flushed with embarrassment as she carefully moved her hat up to sit properly on her head again.
"Well, it's good to hear people aren't giving up." Arion said with a smile. "And it sounds like we have a plan, then... but I think we could use some more information. Do you know if anybody around here has maps? Or can at least sketch something approximate? Before anyone goes charging off on a supply raid, I think it's best we all know where to charge to." Wandering around blindly wasn't going to help anyone. If need be, they could probably at least send out some scouts to watch the area, but the sooner they got started, the sooner people's bellies would be filled... and right now, that was the most important thing.
Taaliq looks across the assembled group. "There is drive here, a want to confront those who harmed all of us. That is good. But were we to try and strike back right now, it would be as fractured fingers swiping at an armored face. We are too new to each other, too unknown, and too ill equipped. I agree with the wyrmkin, we must fight, but first we must survive, and if this New Alexandria offers us a place to build our strength and find more allies, then reaching there needs to be our primary goal. To do that we need resources. I am no farmer, but I am a hunter, and would be happy to see what last prizes we can recover from the land before we venture into the depths of the desert. For that land is harsh, my pack would sometimes skirt it's northern edge in our migrations, but never descend into it's heart."
Taalik pauses as he notices Katras has inched his way close to the two great cats, who are all now cautiously sniffing each other. He chuckles slightly, "My apologies, it would seem that my companion has more courtesy and introducing himself than I. I am Taalik Amun, last Wayfinder of the Black Claw pack, and that is my companion, Katras."
After allowing any others to offer there name in kind, Taalik poses a question. "Perhaps this may seem a strange question, but please understand that my people are nomads who stay to the wild and don't have much interactions with the human lands. I have recently heard tell of the mad king, but if he is mad, why do so many serve him and his hateful rule?"
"If I may?" Qahnaarin raises a hand to Taalik's question. "As a Speaker, I am privy... was privy to many discussions among the masters regarding this very subject. I was a humble tailor of House Mandarb. I shared their parlors and dressing rooms performing my duties. They spoke at great length regarding their ire for the King and the reasons for their opposition."
He sighed and leaned on his knees with his palms. "Alas, I wish their opposition was due to their kind regard for the slaves. I can assure you, it was not. The King threatened their coin-purse with his new order. He wants prosperity for the common man -- prosperity that is impossible while the common laborer cannot compete with a bonded slave. The nobility became richer and richer, and the bread-lines in the capital grew longer and longer. By forcing the nobility to employ human commoners, it will decrease unemployment, raise wages, and reduce crowding in the cities. He knew that opposition would be strong from the nobility... so he decided to take drastic action. Rather than end slavery and face a possible rebellion, the King chose to kill all slaves. Included in his purge was a significant number of the nobility and gentry. Mostly those who depended on slavery enough that they would rebel against his decisions."
He crossed his arms and shook his head. "That is why some call him 'mad.' He is attempting to effect a lifetime of change in a single season through fire and blood. His desire to strengthen his kingdom is so strong and ruthless that our lives are inconsequential. As are the lives in the lands he conquers."
"And what of the next time he desires a change?" Arion inquired. "If he suggests a new method of growing crops, will he burn down every field? If he decides the performing arts are better than mere singing, will he slay every bard? No matter how noble one's goal may be, evil is evil, and we have every right to fight for our lives and the lives of those we care about." She rested her hand on her chin, mulling over their options. "I wonder, how would you go about sending a signal to a man like that..."
"You talk too much," Maqli says, as Qahnaarin finishes. "Your words mask the simple truth." She turns to Taalik with folded arms. "You want to know why humans serve a mad king? I will tell you." She glances around at the others, now scowling once again. "They serve a mad king because they are all mad."
Even as Karsak moves to sniff at Yama, and in turn look to Katras on the wolf's approach, Maqli clenches her fist, the fire reflected in her eyes. "I hear much talk here. But time for talk is over. Now we need hunting, and fighting, and killing. We hunt to feed tribes in the desert. We fight to live. And we kill the humans for what they do." She suppresses a growl, and Karsak turns to look at her for a moment. "I am Maqli of the Vargrrashat, and I refuse to lie down or give up."
She turns to Inja. "You say you have lost family twice to the humans? I know your pain. They hunted my home, and slaughtered my people. Few of the tribes have made it this far." Then the half-orc woman looks to Ishak. "And what I desire is what I have said. I will do what I must to see these tribes to safety. After that, I will hunt and kill the humans. Any I can find, all the way to their mad king if I can."
She stands for a moment longer, and then sinks into a seat. It seems that suddenly the hate that was fueling her speech has faded, or simply lowered from a burning rage to simmering anger. "But now I talk too much. We share meat?" Maqli reaches into a bag at her side and pulls out a brace of her own rabbits. "Small eating, but tender. I will share this with you, who also lost your tribes."
"Before this king, the humans were merely annoying," she comments, "So not all humans are mad." It's not a challenge, but an explanation. [b]"But I agree that action is needed. We find a place for the refugees and then fight the humans until they stop. We kill this king if need be. We do this for the fallen and those who yet live."
She pulls her jug from her shoulder and takes a swig. "For the fallen and those who yet live." She passes the jug.
Taalik listens grimly to the words shared by the lanky, gray skinned man. About to respond, the half-orc tribeswoman blurts out her statement first. Taalik looks at her skeptically. "No one tells you to lie down or give up. Quite the opposite, the drive here is for vengeance. But calling the humans all mad undercuts the danger they clearly present. My people dismissed the troubles of men for too long, and now my pack is dead. If we are to pose a threat to this empire I will not discount the dangerous nature of humans, dismissing it as simple madness. And if this mad king killed many of his own people, then there are those among them who still oppose him, even if only silently. That gives them a flaw. The wise hunter does not blindly rage against the shell of the giant tortoise, he identifies his prey's weakness, then exploits it. Thus so must we."
As the massive gnoll reaches out her arm holding the jug, Taalik tenses up further. But then, a thought crosses his mind. It is a wayfinder's duty to find a new, prosperous path for the pack. Our way of life before has lead us to nearly oblivion, perhaps offering trust to a past foe will start something anew... Taalik reaches out and takes the jug. "When the threat is great enough, even past foes can become firm allies-" hoisting the jug he takes a gulp of the unknown alcohol, "for the fallen and those who yet live. Vengeance will be ours."
Jasmine tries to hide the fact that she is extremely crestfallen that Inja doesn't use a bow to hunt. Yet again, she feels reminded at how alone she is and the skills that are lost.
As more people filter into the fireplace, she takes the opportunity to retreat into herself. She disliked large crowds, reminded her of a lack of freedom, privacy that she had experienced as a slave, so she remains fairly quiet while the discussions continue.
This changes however, when Ishak asks what she (and everyone present will do). Listening quietly, Jasmine lets the cooling air build as she assesses the general mood. Anger was obvious, hatred, revenge - she and her deity felt right at home here, and it was encouraging to have her own opinions largely echo'd by those present. After an appropriate pause, she ducks her head politely as a small gesture, before beginning.
"Much of my own opinions have already been echoed here. I spent far too long of my lifespan as a slave. I saw distasteful things. I had to do distasteful things. Throughout it all, I never saw a single human voice outrage, or attempt a different way or chance. I view them all as equally guilty and responsible. I'll help the refuges find safe haven, but after that, I'm going hunting. With or without help. I'm patient, I have a long lifespan, and I know every one of the faces of such humans that were horrible to me. I'll start with them and work my way down my list until all of those humans know, that I'm coming for them."
Taalik listens to Jasmine's words. "I never knew the life of a slave, and only the bonds of a prisoner for but a few days. That is a life none should suffer." He hands the jug to Jasmine, trusting that she will accept it given the utterance of her words.
Noticing something a distance away, Taalik excuses himself. There was a figure, standing off toward the cliff's edge, a bow in his hands. He had just fired an arrow, enchanted to give off light, out over the desert. Intriguing, a signal of some sort. This is not a refugee, this is someone who knows this caravan's direction.
Walking across the camp, he approaches the blue skinned man. The man was tall, and stood proudly, defiantly against the night sky. "Pardon me, but given that signal, is it safe to assume you are the one planning to lead these refugees across the desert? My name is Taalik Amun, I would offer my help, whatever it may be. I am a skilled hunter and tracker, and could make good use of that bow, if you'd trust me with it."
Arion took a drink from the jug being passed around when her turn came - and she coughed a bit, not used to the flavor or intensity of the drink contained within. Even as she cleared her mouth and throat, her mind was flashing back to the fires that had engulfed her home, the unrelenting butchery of the invading army... and the loss of her closest friends when they'd given everything to Tarak in a last-ditch attempt to protect their town. It had worked, but you couldn't hide behind a shield forever, especially if you didn't know whether or not it would stay up.
"I bear no ill will towards others simply because of the form of their birth." she said sadly. "But sometimes, when a disease is found in the body, the doctor has to cut it away in order to preserve someone's life. The Mad King is a tumor, an infection... and the healing process cannot begin until he is gone. I doubt he will disappear on his own, though - which means it's up to those who would stand against him."
"The kingdom is stronger than ever, despite the recent upheaval."
He counts one finger. "Their economic base is secured by quickly replacing slaves and nobles with human peasants and gentry. No net capital is lost, crime and welfare are reduced, the flow of supplies to the war front is only briefly interrupted."
Two fingers. "The kingdom is united in purpose. The purge has eliminated dissident leadership, and replaced them with gentry eager to display their appreciation and loyalty. The human commoners enjoy new prosperity and positive sentiment for the Crown is high."
Three fingers. "The kingdom is mobilized for war. They are not some fat and contented land who can be caught unawares. Their martial forces are on high alert, and their intelligence networks are actively seeking possible threats as they continue their offensive in the north and east."
Four fingers. "They are on the verge of capturing the two most important strategic locations on this half of the continent -- Freeport and the Murthingard Pass. If Freeport falls, they will have control over the northern and southern routes and be able to restrict trade and supplies to the elven and dwarven kingdoms. If Murthingard falls, the humans will be able to hold the pass themselves and pursue a campaign at their leisure."
He drops his hands in his lap. "But not all is lost. If there were an organized resistance with sufficient resources and intelligence, willing to take extraordinary measures to accomplish their goals, then the heartlands of the kingdom could be disrupted sufficiently to allow the elven and dwarven kingdoms to hold their ground and perhaps even push back. Not to mention the kingdoms to the west who would prefer their rival to remain at their current state of power."
He shrugs and sighs. "Alas, I am but a simple tailor. What do I know?"
"Perhaps a tailor, but not simple." she responds with a toothy smile. "You know of nations and peoples. I hunt and fight. I think many of us are like this. You can help us know where to hurt them. That is a worthy skill."
she looks down at her worn rags, "So is tailoring."
Ishak smiled, a toothy smile as he looked at the fervor, the blood calling for blood. Oh it sang to him in a way that many things didn’t. Their spirit was not broken, not like most of the refugees they are trying to safe. His own blood boiled with vigor as he watched each one speak. He’d place a hand on Bree’s shoulder, letting her know with that touch that he was happy that she was continuing with them.
”For the fallen and for those yet to live. We will find vengence.” His eyes took a glint, something deep stirring within him.
As the conversation continued to pass about the Mad King, his focus shifted to watching the conversation evolve. When many shared the opinion of striking back, the kobold became giddy. ”Strike back, yes, we shall. We will travel the deserts, find home for those who can’t fight, but then we build army of souls like you.” He gestured with a hand to the entire group. ”When we strike back, it will be the beginning of cutting tumor. Though hope is fickle, we need to build that hope for them.” He pointed to the other refugees huddling near camp fires. ”We must give them belief, that we can succeed. We won several small battles. But it’s time we win a big one, for our cause.”
He looked to the speaker when he made the points of the strength of the empire, ”They expect us to stop and be crushed. We have uphill battles. They wage war on every species. We all fall because of our old blood rivals, our old bonds of hatred.” He paused, pointing a talon to the speaker, ”They are united, such as you say. What we lack is that unison. Until it almost too late. We will all rise now. Once we reach New Alexandria. A new beginning.”
”All skills will be needed, and will be used. Like powerful gnoll says.” He’d pause now, looking over to the desert. ”We must prepare.” The kobold would fall silent, as he watched the moonlit dunes. It would be a minute before he’d even twitch and turn to look at them, the ones remaining at the fire. ”What can we do to teach these refugees how to survive? Many are simple families.”
Octavian was watching the night sky carefully, completely focused on his task so he would not miss a signal appear, even if it was just the barest glimmer. He would not notice the canidea approach, but when it spoke he would give him a glance, his features focused as he would move to keep his gaze on the sky.
”That I am. I’m waiting for a response from my brothers and sisters. Only the guides know the way to the city as it is well hidden and the desert there are many dangers, many that will prove the survivability of the refugees to be…. small. At the mention of his bow, Octavian would give a light chuckle, ”We have provisions for fighters, they may be simple weapons and armor, but if you desire to fight and lend your strength, we have additional means to do so Taalik.” He’d give the canidea another glance, ”Octavian Lucerin.”
Despite some misgivings, Maqli nods as the others speak. She can think of responses to the canidae's comments on wise hunters, but she lets the moment slip by. Now isn't the time for infighting and arguments. There may never be a time for that again. So instead, she waits until the jug is passed to her, and she nods and drinks. "For the fallen and those who yet live. Vengeance will be ours."
When the kobold begins speaking of organizing to fight back, though, Maqli grins and even lets out a laugh. She leans forward, cracking her knuckles. "Now, this talk I like. A plan for action. My plan, usually, is simple. Track and hunt and kill. Strike from the dark, or above. This is how my people live." It doesn't take a genius to know that this doesn't quite line up with your average orc--most orcs just attack from the front, using overwhelming numbers and strength, not guile. "I like how the flower-blood thinks." She looks at Jasmine as she says this, but it doesn't have the tone of an insult or slur, more like it's simply how Maqli knows to refer to elves.
"To teach the people, though?" Maqli frowns and shrugs. "Most do not fight like me. I fight like warcat. They fight like... whatever they are." She holds up one scarred fist in the firelight. "But I fight well. Perhaps I will teach others."
"Simple arms and armor are far better than the alternative. And yes, as my ancestor's stand watching, you have my strength and skill committed to the cause." He offers his hand, awaiting a clasp to confirm the pact.
Taalik then turns his gaze back out toward the desert below. He sighs slowly, "Indeed, the wild lands are all a dangerous place, but the lore that my people share about that desert... well, I have some idea of the loss that stands before us. You know this scorched land better than any of us, tell me, is it a fool's errand to try and lead these people to your city of New Alexandria?"
”What can we do to teach these refugees how to survive? Many are simple families.”
"I know the ways of hunting and finding food in the wilderness. We need to find the best and teach them how to support the others. That should last until we find a place to farm." she offers. [b]"It will be harder for the races with poor noses, but I can adapt."
Octavian smiled lightly, though his worry about the lack of a response to his signals has put a damper on his outward appearance. He'd notice the canine creature offer a hand, which would prompt him to take it with a tight grip.
"It's a better errand than any options we have now. My brethren have already ferried several refugees across the desert, this should be no different. It's well protected, hidden and safer then any other city upon this world from the Mad King." Octavian would turn his gaze back to the skies, watching with a frown. "It concerns me as to why there has been no signal in return to ours. I fear something is wrong and it troubles me."
Arion's head perked up slightly at that, and her slightly wandering attention focused on Ocvatian's concern. "Well, then." she said, standing and brushing off her clothes. "Perhaps it's nothing, and checking will verify it. Perhaps it's something... in which case there should be volunteers to handle it. I didn't come here to flee the Mad King, but to stand against him... and if anyone else wants to act, at least on something, I'd be happy to head there together." With that, she turned and began heading in the direction that a response should have come from.
She still wasn't totally sure about this sort of thing, but... she couldn't be a sheltered little girl forever, not when half her home was gone and she'd been chosen to help find a solution. On matters large and small, the Mad King needed to be stopped, and his ideology buried so deep it would never come up again. For now, that meant ensuring the safety of the camp... one small stepping stone to a much larger goal.
Taalik looks at the lass who is determinedly heading out into the desert by herself. Speaking to Octavian, "She doesn't exactly strike me as the best person to head off into the desert alone. But given your concern, perhaps she is right, perhaps we should investigate? It is your people, you'd know their ways far better than any of us, do you think there would be signs if they were attacked?"
Bree smiled at the acknowledgement from Ishak and then went to tend the fire a little, taking a long stick to poke some of the wood that hadn't burned yet deeper into the heart of the fire. She sat and listened to them continue speaking back and forth, staring into the blaze.
After several moments she put the stick aside and then stood up, stretching some. "I am going to check on some of the meager medical supplies we have." She quickly headed off in the direction in which they had decided to stockpile all the things they managed to collect for the care and treatment of the ill and injured. Since the beginning there had be no shortage of ill or injured, but they hadn't always managed to grab a lot when it came to those kinds of items.
She approached the bags and boxes and kits and began to carefully rummage through them, taking note of how many bandages, salves, and other healing aids they had actually managed to scavenge in their travels. Some of the bandages were little better than ripped clothing in some cases, but she was able to make do with what little she had typically. She carefully stowed everything back away and then sat down, sighing and staring up into the evening sky.