Dorick recovers the severed drake's head, larger but lighter than a bull's skull, while being careful to avoid drops of vile, viscous mucus still dripping from its jaws - hitting the water with faint hisses.
Soraya stumbles free from the entangling mucus, almost tumbling into the water as she regains her balance.
On the sandy spit of ground, the three leathery eggs - each the size of a backpack - are the first things to catch your notice.
Amongst the wrecked wagons and festering oxen, you find a small fortune in merchant's goods that have largely survived the foul conditions within this damp lair.
The salvageable goods include:
*50lbs of Spices (Ginger, pepper, cumin) (100gp)
*10 sets of Cotton Clothing (80gp)
*20 sq yards of Silk (200gp)
*A pouch filled with 12 Freshwater Pearls (120gp)
*4 Silver Holy Symbols (25gp each)
*A set of Ivory Dice (10gp)
*A deck of Waxed Vellum Cards painted with exotic art (100gp)
*4 Tin Flasks filled with fragrant liquids
*A small feather embedded in a disc shaped from tree resin
*10lbs of Silver Ingots stamped with unfamiliar symbols (50gp)
*A masterwork Scimitar, etched with patterns of flowing, intertwining lines.
*Assorted coins totaling 1207cp, 841sp, 204gp, and 24pp
Dorick hoists the head onto land, such as it is, and announces:
"To forestall any argument, I shall present that to Lord Aristide!"
Seeing the coins and lucre, Dorick's eyes grow a little wide.
"Holy symbols of Sarenrae, with Qadiran iconography. Those coins are from Vudra, the Empire of Kelesh. The silver ingots, from one of their merchant houses, no doubt! I shall look over them."
Having learned the Kelish tongue to better understand his former foe, he tries to find something he can read. Names and phrases especially.
She nods at Dorick. "The cards are Vudrani, too. Some of this stuff traveled far."
She hands some of the containers of spices to Francois. "You'll best know what to do with these." She looks around. "A lot of this will help the caravan--clothing and entertainment and supplies for the settlement."
Kalig sniffs at the liquids in the four vials, or dips a finger in and licking it lightly, trying to identify them.
"Once we find a place I thought about opening up something like a tavern or inn. Havent thought of a name but something about a riverdrake might be intruiging. So those eggs... we destroying them or what? No sense in killing these beasts if their young are going to rampage throught later right?
He asked eyeing the leathery things like they were some sort of snake.
When handed the crates with the spices he nodded.
"Right indeed, these can be put to use feeding the folk... Anyone think drake meat will taste too gamey?"
He asked with a wide grin... he was probably joking.
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"Oh my. We may need some help pulling all this stuff back up!" She takes a small piece of paper out of her pack and writes a note detailing their survival and asking for ropes to be set up at the cliff side. She affixes it to her owl's leg. "Take this to Aristide," she says. With a nod and a flick of his tail, he flies out of the cavern to deliver the message.
Kalig easily recognizes the first two potions by taste: they are both potions of Cure Light Wounds. The third is also easily identified, being a potion of Shield of Faith (+2). The fourth and final potion is trickier, but she finally judges that it is a potion of Endure Elements.
Lucias carries the note upward, a sudden updraft ferrying him topside with surprising speed.
Many minutes later, Lucias flies back down towards the lake. He does not bring another note with him, but his reappearance heralds the arrival of many figures atop the canyon wall. Aristide's porters, some of Fendir's kin, and a few others work together to either affix more lengths of rope down the canyon walls or to scale down and help secure the recovered goods.
Dorick stares at the eggs, an unhappy expression on his face.
"The eggs will grow to drakes. If they can't be tamed, then they'll threaten future travellers, or even our settlement. I say we smash them here and now."
Regardless of response, he will put his strength to good use in hauling out the spoils.
"They may not even hatch without parents to tend to them, or feed them as hatchlings. Abandon them, destroy them now, or let Francoix make a bizarre omelette, all's about the same. Easiest thing would probably to dash them on the rocks outside, and give the scavengers in the area a good meal."
"My wife could probably make some meals out of those." suggests Fendir of the eggs.
"Then we bring them back, and find out what drake egg tastes like."
The rest of the day is spent with the caravan parked beside the canyon, chorused by the waterfall's droning roar. With many ropes and much concerted effort, the goods plundered by the drakes are raised topside, cleaned, and stowed.
Although the trade goods are added to the caravan's communal stores, Viscount Aristide declares that the party, having slain the drakes, deserve their due rewards from the spoils and encourages them to take what they would like from the hoard.
To preempt any additional squabbles, Aristide also decrees that one of the drake skulls will be given to the hobgoblins and the other will be given to the orc-kin.
...
The cookfires are soon lit, under the supervision of Francoix. He and Brekka attempt to boil one of the drake eggs, but it begins to seep out a foul, noxious smelling liquid into the pot. Fendir's shamanic wife hazards a taste, but quickly spits it out. She shakes her head, grim and mute, to signal to Francoix that it is not safe to eat.
One of the half-orcs from Harkan's tribe steps up boisterously, insisting that a man of his stripe is tough enough to handle a little "drake's egg soup." A single spoonful soon leaves him retching just outside of the cookfire's light.
Fendir's other wife brings forth the end of the female drake's tail, cut from the body, and offers it to be roasted. This proves to be a far more palatable meal, comparable to fillet of sole, although with a natural spiciness to it.
Dorick will check the sets of cotton clothing to see if they match his size.
And relish his meal of drake's tail, while excitedly talking about the battles against the drakes with others around dinner.
If Soraya wants any or all of Kalig's goodberries to further speed her healing, she will give them to her ().
Kalig wanders around the camp, talking to the shepherds and the orcs' pig tenders to get an accounting of losses and to ensure no other animals have gone missing unnoticed.
Soraya thanks Kalig for the berry (she only needs 1 and a good night's rest). She also offers healing to Kalig if she requires it (I've got a clw spell I can use on you... at a minimum it would heal you 3 HP).
She rummages through her pack and finds some clothes that haven't been partially dissolved by acidic drake snot. After a cooling bath in the river, a good berry, and some new clothes, she falls almost instantly to sleep.
The recovered clothing includes 5 sets for men, 3 for women, and 2 for children. The men's clothes are a little small for Dorick and would leave his wrists and ankles exposed.
However, one of the other settlers - a woman who was also examining the clothes and the silk - speaks up. You believe her name is Engrid; you've taken some time to try to acquaint yourself with all the settlers, but it remains hard to commit everyone's names to memory just yet.
"You'll look foolish trying to wear that as is," Engrid teases Dorick. "It's always hard to find fitting clothes not tailored specifically you, even when not dragged out of a cave. Let me get your measurements and I can alter it for you. It'll give me something to do on my wagon, other than stare at the oxen's backside."
...
Kalig finds that the two sheep slaughtered by the female drake are the only casualties. The rest of the sheep, as well as the goats, draft animals, and the orcs' pigs, are accounted for and have calmed down from the excitement.
...
"A Feather Token," he haughtily announces. "With a single word, it will become an oak tree. I suggest you not be holding it at the time, though."
As he walks away, you think bitterly to yourself that both his tone and something in his posture are quite irritating.
...
"I hope you won't think me silly or paranoid, but I felt a pang of jealousy as I watched you cooking beside that hobgoblin woman," she admits. "Despite her gray skin and sharp-looking teeth, the thought still nagged me."
She punctuates her worry by squeezing your arm tightly against her.
What's got HIM so upset? Hmph. Some people. Soraya tucks the token in her pocket. Never know when something like that might prove useful.
He looked at her incredulously for a moment and pulled her in tightly hugging her close.
"You are not silly nor paranoid. But you have nothing to worry about love. I've never asked but I would be glad if you helped me cook if you would like. I know you were trained for other things, running a staff, entertaining and the like, but no harm learning anything new if you want. Just think before we know it we will be building our own little tavern and inn, free from the strife and chaos of home...Free to be ourselves."
He kissed her forehead.
"Here i was afraid you were going to chastise me for helping battle those drake things."
He silently held her for a few more long moments mentally noting to find something pretty to get her. He had been so busy thinking about the next step he had completely forgot she was completely out of her element on this adventure. He would have to make sure she didnt feel out of sorts or left behind.
Dorick smiles at Engrid's commentary.
"My thanks! Engrid, wasn't it? I imagine good cloth may be harder to come by in the days ahead. Where are you from?"
Kalig shakes her head at Soraya. "I'll eat my own berries before they go bad tonight. Save your spell in case anything happens in the night." She eats two of her berries and saves the other just in case.
She reports the status of the animals to the lord after chatting a bit with the animal tenders. She lets off Matilda's training today, figuring the creature's had a good scare and needs her rest. She brushes the donkey down and gives her an extra handful of oats.
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Noemie laughs a little.
"Why would I mind you battling those creatures? You were protecting us all. If only Lady Dela and the house guards could see you now: fighting dragons like you stepped right out of a fable."
A troubled look suddenly crosses her face. You know your wife well enough that she regrets bringing up your old lives, and all the unpleasantness you left behind. Before you can say anything, though, Noemie changes the subject herself.
"Have you thought about what we'll call our inn?"
"Early on, Edme wasn't so bad. Things really got ugly when they turned Torvin Academy into a prison."
She shakes her head bitterly.
"I'd hoped to send my children there one day, but now that's not even a dream. Even that wasn't the final straw for me, though. The disease swept in, seemingly bringing a new wave of criminals seeking sanctuary, and the crops began to fail.
"I suppose I lucked out as a seamstress. I was enough of the 'working class' that the Gardeners and revolutionaries took little notice of me, but still successful enough to hide away money to escape. I was thinking about moving to Brevoy, Andoran, or - gods help me - the River Kingdoms, but then I heard about the Viscount's expedition and, well, here we are."
Matilda nuzzles her muzzle against you, even when you try to bed down for the night. You aren't sure whether she's grateful for the oats, happy to have your protection and comfort against the drakes, or even just relieved to be skipping training for the night, but she remains very clingy. She seems less and less like a draft animal and more like a needy cat picked up off the street.
Your wives and tribe busy themselves with the slain drake. Most of your kin set upon the carcass with knives in almost surgical precision, harvesting meat, scales, sinews, and bone. Axxa brings the cuts of meat to your shamanic wife Brekka, who sorts and judges which ones are safe to cook. You find your other wife, Shanra, cleaning the drake skull apportioned to your tribe.
”Once I flense the scales and sinew from the skull, it will make a fine totem,” she says in your native tongue, not looking up from her work. ”If preserved, it could also be made into a helmet. Might be too small, though.”
Only moments after you bed down, Lucias lands a yard or two away from you with a small rodent in his talons. Your turn in your bedroll to face the other way before he begins to swallow the squirming creature whole, lest the sight of the owl's meal haunt your dreams.
...
In the morning, after breakfast and striking camp, the oxen are yoked and the caravan prepares to resume its journey.
You find that very little is left of the female drake's carcass. Even the bones have been collected by settlers - hobgoblin, orc, and human alike - to make tools, scrimshaw, and other goods.
After the events of yesterday, Soraya's sleep wasn't as fulfilling as possible. She decided to change up her spells a little today, just in case of a similar occurrence. With her mending spell, she also set about trying to fix her clothing from yesterday.
Despite being tired, she's in a pretty good mood as she greets people in the morning.
Kalig protests to Matilda, "Calm down, you big baby, I'm not going anywhere."
Awaking at her usual, ridiculously early time, she notices the sky and the feel of the air, and prepares to report to the Lord and the caravan drivers once they are up.
First, she prepares her natural magic and goes, as always, searching for berries. She has Matilda heel along with her as she goes.
If she finds anything good, she makes goodberries and collects any other good edibles into her bucket and Matilda's pack to bring back to the cooks for breakfast preparations.
On her return she also reports to the Lord and the caravan drivers: "I think there will be clear skies for the next few days, with a strong sun. It may not be hot, but there's not a lot of shade along the river, and it will weary our beasts and our oldest and youngest if we are too exposed. We must take care to move steadily and stop for shade from time to time."
She also goes to Harkan and speaks to him in Orc.
Dorick listens to Engrid's story solemnly.
"You had a very lucky escape, twice at least. The 'Red Revolution' has lived up to its name, in the worst possible way. But we'll have none of that madness out here, mark my words! If you ever feel unsafe here, let me know and I'll do my best for you."
Remembering his days of campaigning against the Kellid, Dorick makes a point of finding some bit of cloth to cover his head and shade his face.
He roams the camp, keeping an eye on things, and informing people that:
"It's going to be a bright few days! Watch out for too much sun though."
"Very well. I think if you can make a helm out of it, it would be a good gift for the Viscount. That way, every time he sees it, he will think of our tribe and remember our strength."
Kalig and Dorick's prediction proves accurate, and the next day's travel is bright and clear. Hats are donned, and those without improvise coverings from canvas and cloth borrowed from the caravan's stores.
Those who travel in covered wagons suddenly find many "neighbors" asking for a ride, hoping to sit a spell in the shade.
On the following day, a swathe of clouds takes to the sky, offering periods of shade that eases travel.
Hunting parties find game to be more sparse, discovering no recent tracks from anything larger than a hare. Fortunately, Kalig and other foragers continue to find berries, roots, and wild vegetables to supplement the caravan's trail supplies.
A sense of tedium falls upon the settlers, doing more to chisel away at morale than the worgs and drakes managed.
The river winds on through shallow valleys cut through wide, rolling, empty grasslands. The dice and cards recovered from the drakes' lair, plundered from other, long dead travelers, help to break the monotony by providing entertainment. However, their is great demand for these limited pastimes.
In at least one instance, though, you need to step in and defuse a brawl that almost breaks out over cards; however, rather than accusations of cheating, tempers flare when some of the cards turn up missing and players vent anger at the potential loss of play.
The cards turn up in someone's pocket - a man named Buckel who once served in the Galtan army - restoring the deck to completion. Buckel is required to pay double ante for the next game he plays.
Six days after the battle with the drakes, marking the 18th day of the expedition overall, you are summoned to meet with the Viscount.
Gustav the steward, Hovant the guard, and the trail guides Natsagiin and Machus are also part of this impromptu council.
"Machus tells me we have entered his people's lands," Aristide gestures towards the centaur guide. "He and Natsagiin, ranging afield, believe they may have spotted a party of centaurs. We are discussing whether it would be prudent to send a delegation to meet and trade with them."
Dorick does his best to keep spirits up in the lull. And to keep the peace as necessary.
At Aristide's talk, he replies:
"Is there any reason not to trade with them?"
Soraya has never been much of a "people person." She begins to feel that way more and more as the settlers grow restless. I just don't understand how anyone can be BORED out here. Have they never traveled? What did they expect? And can these people not look around? She takes the opportunity to ask Kalig about some of the flora and fauna of the area.
"A whole herd of centaurs! How exciting." Soraya ponders what exactly you would call a group of centaurs. Is herd okay? Do they have a preferred term? Hmm, I wonder how difficult child-bearing is for them?
Kalig herself is not much for games, so she is glad when Soraya approaches her. She mentions how much lusher it is here than some of the scrublands she spent some of her early years in. "At first glance, you just see the grasses. Then you see the different kinds, the bits that grow in drier lands, all kinds of little ground cover and flowers. All the color. Useful stuff too."
She leans over and picks a ubiquitous and unremarkable weed that grows at the edge of the taller grasses, with round, long-ribbed leaves and a "flower" that looks like small beads glued to the top of the stem. "Maybe you know this as a healer: plantago. Makes a good poultice. Helps wounds knit, prevents infection, eases stings and bites. Mia would know more but I don't know where she's run off to." Kalig seems not too concerned, knowing the young woman and her apprentice were more than capable of caring for themselves.
When the approach to the centaurs' land is announced, she nods. "Whatever Machus recommends I'll follow. I'd reckon we'd at least want to announce ourselves so they don't think we're hostile."
"Since I trust my eyes," Machus says with a sarcastic sidelong glare at Natsagiin, "I would recommend that we ride out and meet with them."
The nomadic woman, despite her centaur companion's barbs, remains quiet and impassive.
"Here's the trouble," Machus says with a roll of his eyes, offering an open, plaintive palm while cradling his elbow in his other hand. "Dear Natsa and I disagree about the...insignia, is that the right word?" he asks, turning to Aristide and his retinue. With a silent, confirming nod from the Viscount, the centaur continues.
"Yes, we disagree about the insignia we see on their distant flags. I see a drawn bow set above curling ocean waves, while she claims - wrongly - to see a scimitar set above wind swaying through grass."
"What's the difference?" Hovant, the Viscount's chief guard, demands.
"The difference," Machus says in a tone somewhere between exasperation and petulance, "Is that if I am right - which I am - this is a hunting party from the Sea Cliffs Tribe. They are a small tribe allied with mine and they will readily trade with us because they are too weak to do otherwise."
Machus stops here, as though to further insinuate that he is correct and that no additional discussion is needed. It is Aristide who spurs him on.
"And if Natsagiin is correct? What then?" the Viscount asks.
"In the incredibly unlikely event that Natsa is correct, then this might possibly be a war party from the Hills Tribe. They war with most of the other tribes, mine included, and they like to raid caravans, too. But it doesn't matter, because I am right."
Despite Machus' defiant confidence, the alternative gives you pause. Engaging a centaur war party is a very undesirable prospect - especially if it could lead to future hostilities with the parent tribe.
"Surely between us, we can scout closer? Say Soraya, send Lucius a little further ahead of us and see their colours closer? I do think we should venture out. If they be keen to trade, we would benefit. And if they be keen to fight, we need to know that sooner rather than later!"
"It's seems like we have little choice here: We sally forth and introduce outselves. Should they be peaceful, we'll trade stories of the road, acknowledge each other's strengths, and be on our way. Should they prove hostile, well, let's say that we'll have a lot more stuff to haul to our new city."
He answered with a slight blush at her compliment about his 'heroics' He didnt feel heroic, he felt like a fool with slightly aching ribs. But it had to be done, most the folk here could probably barely figure out that the pointy end of the rapier went in their foe.
He didnt think he was done risking himself for the group yet either. He kissed her on the forehead one more time and held her close for a bit luxioriating himself in just her being close.
"So either they will be friends or they will want to kill us...great seems like everything else we have wandered across so far. Let's go."
He began mostly to himself taking his crossbow out and ensuring it was ready for use.
Soraya shakes her head at Dorick. "Lucius is quite intelligent," she says, "but it may be difficult for him to distinguish the banner as well. While he could 'see' it, the symbology, if I can use that word, is likely beyond him."
Lucius screeches in protest, feeling that he's been slighted somehow, but remains seated on her shoulder.
"We will ride out with you to meet the centaurs, if that is the group decision."
Kalig nods along with the rest of the group. "We could send a scout to sneak in closer, but if they're caught, that'll make us look hostile no matter who they are. May as well meet with them. Either they're friendly and we can share stories and trade, or they're not and we can get inevitable nastiness out of the way sooner rather than later." She is ready to go along if that is decided.
"So that is settled then. We ride out!"
Soraya goes ahead and casts a protective spell (mage armor) just in case. She has Lucias fly up to make sure no one tries to flank their position unobserved.
Aristide sends Machus and Natsagiin to accompany the party, instructing them to act as translators, peacemakers, or additional sword arms as needed. Although the Viscount mulls sending Gustav along as well, he decides against it. Instead, Aristide empowers the party to negotiate on his behalf.
Machus, with Natsagiin upon his back, leads the party towards where they spotted the centaur band.
Lucias soars overhead, and although his colorless sight and ignorance of iconography offer no enlightenment on whether these centaurs will be friend or foe, the owl can at least confirm that the band is eight strong, clustered loosely together, and traveling at a slow pace.
The centaur band comes into sight as you crest a landrise, and you find yourselves close enough to distinguish their spears, bows, and swords. You also grow close enough to see their small flags, dyed a mottled purple, fluttering upon their spears.
A large banner pole is carried idly by one of the band, but at first you cannot discern its insignia.
As the centaurs notice your approach, they stop their slow march and ready themselves, clearly wary of these unexpected travelers. The standard bearer raises the banner pole, the flag unfurls in the wind, revealing.....
A bow upon waves.
"See, it is the Sea Cliffs Tribe!" Machus sighs, relieved. "As I said, there was nothing to be worried about."
Natsagiin replies to her centaur companion's hollow confidence with only a silent, sidelong glare.
Dorick and Caragus get to enjoy the leisurely ride out.
And it is welcome news when their colours are ascertained.
Though Natsagiin does not look happy.
Dorick turns to Machus.
"Do they speak Taldan? Or Kelish?"
"We should probably let Machus head out first then, so that he can explain why a group of heavily armed and armored people is approaching them."
"Taldane? Nah, you'd be surprised how rare that is among our tribes," Machus laughs. "Kelish is a more likely when it comes to human languages, along with Hallit or Iobarian. Those are the ones most useful in trade - and war."
He then whispers to Natsagiin, and without protest the nomad woman dismounts the centaur.
"Hopefully they didn't take notice," Machus says sheepishly. "Allowing yourself to be used as a steed is somewhat...er, what's the word, Natsa?"
"Taboo," Natsagiin says, deadpan.
Machus shakes his head, inadvertently inviting comparisons to a neighing horse shaking its mane.
"That's a funny word," he chuckles nervously while preparing to approach the hunting band.
"Understood. I can bring Kelish to the table at least."
He watches the happenings with the pair with interest but adds no comment.
"Perhaps Natsagiin should limp a bit. You could say you were doing her a favor," Kalig suggests.
"You tell us what to do, I've traveled a fair deal but never visited centaurs before."
Soraya is fluent in all three languages. But, she's never interacting with centaurs before either. She's happy to let someone with more experience take the lead, though she'll pop in if there's a need.
Natsagiin speaks, her words preempting Machus like the quick thrust of a spear.
"The centaurs of Casmaron are far more aloof than those of Avistan," she explains. "They trade with outsiders only when offered something essential that they cannot make themselves."
Machus steps forth, in front of Natsagiin, to reclaim the party's attention.
"That is not too hard with the Sea Cliffs Tribe. Their territory is small, and they lack many resources. Weapons and tools of good iron - or even better, steel - are always highly sought. They lack arable land, so fruit is also good."
.....
Machus leads the party forward, with weapons sheathed at his recommendation. The leader of the hunting band raises a hand and calls out brusquely to Machus.
"They are from a caravan seeking the sea," Machus replies. "I am their guide. They would like to trade."
After the brief exchange between the two, the lead centaur eyes you with narrowed, wary eyes.
The hunters grip their weapon hafts tightly, but they do not level them in your direction.
Any hope for brokering trade lies with you, which means you will have to hope that at least one of them speaks a language known to you.
Kalig raises an eyebrow at the proceedings, and at how the tribe eyes Machus. She'd rather stay out of it, but realizes they have better chances if someone else contributes than not. "They're not going to listen to him, I don't think," she whispers very quietly to Soraya and Dorick.
She tentatively steps forward, leaving her hands empty and easily seen.
"Greetings. Do you understand me?"
If they understand her, she continues. If they do not understand her, she looks at the others to see if they can pick up the conversation.
"We apologize for encroaching on your hunting lands. We are following the river, away from here, to seek a home. We may have some goods to trade, if you like, or else we will be on our way. We could also exchange news of the road. We killed some drakes at the falls upriver. This may make it safer to move around more."
Diplomacy isn't really Soraya's forte, but if the centaurs don't appear to understand Hallit, she will quickly translate Kalig's words to Iobarian or Kelish.
The centaur leader cocks his head, seeming to understand Kalig's Hallit words - although only very little. It seems he's heard the language but does not understand it.
As Soraya translates into Iobarian, though, there is a flash of comprehension upon the leader's face. He pauses before speaking, picking his words carefully from this intermediary language.
His face softens, though, at the mention of trade.
"What do you offer?"
Dorick is uncertain of the situation, and appreciates Soraya's translation.
Fendir, standing next to Dorick, also tenses when the Centaurs grasp their weapons, but as they don't draw, he doesn't attack.
"I wonder what they're saying." says Fendir quietly to Dorick.