The warriors holding the spears look on tensely and don't come any closer. They are a mixture of men and women, lean and hard and dark.
Morthak thinks for a moment, then adds, "And they kidnapped some slave kid. We were hired to rescue."
"I see," says the Hedla. She sizes up the group. "Then you had better come in. We have much to discuss." She nods the spearmen, who relax a little as she introduces herself.
And so it begins - everyone here understands the bargain even if they hate it. The bandits dominate the village, suffering it to exist in return for tribute and hostages and using it as one of their routes to the trade road. They hold Hedla's husband, Djal's sister, and others. The arrangement is clear - as long as the village cooperates, the hostages are safe. If they don't, the hostages die and the village would be next. For the sake of the village, the elders cannot allow strangers seeking to confront the bandits through. It is a sordid pact, but it has kept the village safe. Hedla will see to it that these new arrival will not see out the night.
"They've crossed this far. They must be tough. Look at the big one. He must be very strong. The short one reminds me of Djal. The shoulders. They have the same shoulders, but this one has a big hammer. The old one holds his spear like a club. The pointy-eared one looks sly. And Ch'K faa gik tch aah.... "
Even as her speech devolves into meaningless clicks and random syllables, Grea's expression goes blank and she stares at the Thri'kreen among the visitors.
Behind them, the brushwood barricades are pulled back in place, closing off the exit.
Th'Kal suddenly looks around wildly. "Brrrrr'chk. Mindtalking. Someone here is mindtalking. Anyone else can hear?"
Hedla hears and pauses, then turns and looks hard at one of the villagers - a particularly feral-looking young woman.
The 'kreen stops abruptly, looking around before saying something to his fellows. Hedla hears and pauses, then turns and looks hard at Grea.
-Posted with Wayfinder
-Posted with Wayfinder
But the half-elf pushes himself to the front. "I am Arakan, well met. So, Hedla is it? How is it that our path leads us here, but you remain untouched by these raiders that Morthak here is so eager to chase down? They don't sound like the type to leave small Slave Tribe villages to grow in their turf."
"We have so far weathered the attentions of bandits," replies Hedla. "We have nothing to give them, but they still take what little we have. We have been waiting for brave warriors such as you to deliver us from them." She smiles. "But you must be tired. Come, please eat with us, and we will tell you what we can." She gestures to the cave entrance and begins walking again.
Meanwhile, the half-giant turns to Grea and calls out something in a language she doesn't understand. Danet, a warrior of the tribe and one of Hedla enforcers, walks over to Grea and Djal. He holds his spear horizontally and steps in close, nudging them both backwards out of the firelight. "Don't interfere," he murmurs, "You know it's for the best."
Meanwhile, one of the warriors walks over to the girl and the big mul boy she is with. The warrior holds his spear horizontally and steps in close, nudging them both backwards out of the firelight. He mutters something to them but it is too far to hear.
Hedla's smile broadens. "In see we talk the same language," she says to Arakan. She waits expectantly by the cave entrance.
"Feral girl talked to Th'Kal. Says she is in trouble I think. Maybe knows more than chief will tell."
Once everyone is comfortable, Hedla says, "You asked us how we remain untouched by the bandits. In truth, we are not untouched - they know we are here and make us pay them tribute and force us to feed them when they pass by. There is little we can do - we are not powerful warriors, we are hunters and herders. Our children go hungry while the raiders live well. But with warriors like yourselves to help us, we can put an end to this." Barit and Golm nod along as she speaks.
Danet jerks his spear out of Djal's grip and eyeballs him and Grea before turning away. Two of the elders, Barit and Golm, follow Hedla and the newcomers into the meeting chamber. But Fanooz, the village healer, begins supervising the cooking of a simple meal of cooked grains before darting into her hut.
Grea's head jerks to look at Djal. This was surprising, and bold. She smoothly eases between Djal and Danet and waits for the reply.
"What's wrong with you?" he hisses furiously. "They have your sister. They have my wife. This isn't about honour. It's not about being a hero. It's about keeping the people we love alive. Do you want the bandits to kill them?
"You know that if these people get to the bandits they will think we helped them. Just shut up and let the elders do what they have to do. Or so help me, I will see you and your friend here banished into the desert!"
He turns and stalks away. At the same time, Fanooz emerges from her hut and heads over to the cooking. She puts a pinch of powder into some of the bowls before handing them over to be served up. "Make sure these ones are given to the strangers. Don't mix them up."
Villagers come in bringing bowls. The rations are meager - cooked grains - but probably royal for a place like this. The bowls are carefully placed before each person. Hedla picks hers up, scoops up a small handful and begins to eat. "Please, you are our guests," she smiles.
Arakan nods in gratitude at those handing him the food, but he does not begin to eat. Knowing his job and own skillset the way he does, he is naturally suspicious of anyone offering food to strangers in this world. As such, he also motions for the others of the group to wait before eating. "I appreciate the offer, but we couldn't possibly take food from you, if you are already surrendering supplies to these stupid, ignorant, and outright worthless creatures that call themselves raiders." He has readily picked up a new found contempt for the raiders. "We wouldn't want to take what you need for survival. We would be welcome to instead take anything more functional but of less use for you out here in the wastes. Shiny gewgaws or the like."
[spoiler]Rolling initiative is just to determine who does what first. It doesn't necessarily mean you are in a fight to the death, nor does it constrain what you do next.[/ooc]
I'll wait for Aubrey to sort it.
Danet brushes the sand from his eyes and wrestles with Grea for possession of his spear.