It is Wealday, the 24th of Sarenith, in the year 4713. The call has went out to the heroes and their like in the kingdom of Brevony. The area known as the Stolen Lands is to be explored, mapped, and conquered for the throne. The sun is shining on a road not far from Silverhall, the last city before the great expanse known as the Greenspan. These are House Lebeda lands, and are somewhat civilized by the knights and people of the Ledeba family.
Down the road comes a large man, human in origin, with a mighty hammer across his back and a look of determination in his eyes. His body is covered in scars, far too numerous to count, and it is obvious that he has seen his share of battle.
As he makes his way down the road, heading ever westward, he comes across a younger man who has stopped along the road, and appears to be tending his horse. He hears the man curse to himself as he pries a dagger against something stuck in his horse's shoe, ever careful not to expose himself to a kick. The man, hearing the approach of the larger man, turns his head to see just who else might be sharing the road with him...
Castor nods to the stranger with a smile, remaining silent. He turns back to his horse's shoe, and to the pebble stuck within, causing the animal no small amount of issues. Exasperated with his fruitless attempts, he whispers a quiet invocation in Celestial. For an instant, an unnatural gleam sparkles at the point of the dagger and, at once, the pebble comes loose, rejoining its brethren amongst the gravel.
Castor sheathes the weapon and stands, working a kink out of his ankle from crouching for so long. The mare nickers in relief, stomping her relieved hoof twice, before dipping her head for another bite of fresh grass.
"Well met, warrior," Castor salutes. "Are you bound for the Greenspan ahead?"
Brom eyes the man carefully, experienced eyes taking in the details of soft and foreign silk, juxtaposed with the several weapons on his person. Look at this, a small man with fancy clothes. Typical. But with weapons, and he does not view me with fear, hmmm. Not typical. Remember Brom, be on best behavior!
He stops several paces away, careful to avoid getting to close to the man or the large and unpredictable animal, letting the heavy end of the hammer fall to the earth with a thud, "Hullo small man! Vhat is zhis Greenspan place? And vhat is in zhat foot zhat is so amazing?! Ha! The heavily scarred man laughs at his own hilarity, the joyful expression on his face pulling interestingly at several whirling scars on his cheeks. He puts a hand to his pouch, as if remembering something, "No, good small man. I am heading for Oleg's!" and points to where he's headed, towards the wilderness. "Vhere shall you be going? To zhis 'Greenspin?' Ha!" and sets himself to laughing again, one hand propped on the end of his hammer.
Castor can't help but smile when faced with the barbarian's jovial disposition.
A man of so many scars keeping such a bright disposition must certainly be of remarkable personal strength. he reflects. A man wielding a hammer of that size must be of remarkable physical strength as well.
For the sake of good attitude, Castor shrugs off the "small" remark. Running his hand through the mare's mane to calm her down after the stressful procedue, he explains."The greenspan is the vast expanse of forest that borders the Stolen Lands on this side. As for Capella's hoof, she had a pebble stuck in her horseshoe, was was making it rather troublesome for her to walk. It should be all better now."
"I do not believe I've encountered a man with such an accent before. Have you come from far away?"
Brom grins happily at the prospect of talking about his people, "Zhe People, ve are from..." and waves his hand in a vague circle which could represent the immediate area, the forest, or the entirety of Golarion. "And you, good small man, vhere is you coming from?" He keeps a careful and untrusting eye on Capella, noting the horses shifting of weight and equine sounds with alertness.
"All the same. I am a son of the local roads, born of local travelers, hailing from the forests in the south on one side, and a local town on the other."
Castor gracefully climbs back into his saddle, but not without a moment of hesitation, betraying his lack of formal training in horseback riding.
"I am headed to the trading post as well, perhaps, if you would be so inclined, we could travel together. Strength in numbers, as they say."
What luck! Only my second peaceful encounter and I've already found one of the small men willing to have me along! he thinks to himself.
Brom picked up his hammer about a foot, still head-down, and thumps it solidly into the earth, apparently signalling his approval of the idea, "Zhis is good! Ah, my rudeness. Zhis is Krasa!" and hefts the earth-breaker easily into his large hands, holding it up for the mounted Castor to admire, "She is not being so fast but strong! Very strong! Is she not beautiful, yes?" he starts walking, his long stride keeping pace with the horse without much effort on his part --although he is careful to keep some distance between him and the animal.
"She looks like a fine weapon indeed," Castor comments. He know little in the way of weaponry, except where bows are concerned, but if any hammer had gotten that man through the same battles that had gotten him those scars, it had to be a good one.
"What about you, warrior? Do you have a name I may call you by?"
Brom grins broadly, his facial scars pulling again, stating with some formality, "Brom of Zhe People, but just 'Brom' is good. And how are you called, good small man?" As they walk Brom frequently and casually lets his head swing from side to side, scanning the sides of the roads and giving the road behind them a quick glance. His gait is rolling and carefree, as if he had not a worry in the world, but his observant demeanor is fairly obvious, despite the large man's apparent nonchalance.
As Brom glances back at the path behind, he notices a shaggy, red-maned feline lazily following behind them. The creature does nothing to hide its presence, nor rush to keep pace... but methodically pads along the path a dozen yards or so behind the duo.
When the pair stops, it follows suit--tail slowly swishing back and forth through the dirt where it sits. When they resume, it gradually drags itself back to its feet and trudges along in apathetic pursuit.
Brom makes eye contact with Castor, and flicks his head at the trailing cat which seemed to come nowhere. "Zhis is anozher friend of yours, yes? Like Cap.. like zhe horsey?"
"Capella," Castor clarifies.
He turns around and glances at the cat, curious. "That being said no, I've never seen this cat before. Could it be a stray from a local city?"
Castor takes a look around in the area, trying to see if the animal has an owner nearby.
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”Blood and bloody ashes, short cut my arse.” mutters a man in mottled browns, working his way out of a nearby copse of trees. Yanking on a lead, he turns toward a mule that seems to have taken offense to his last comment and dug its heels in, ”Gods, why must you torture me so!” he shouts to the heavens as he sets about breaking the branches that might possibly annoy the already ill-tempered beast.
After a few minutes, the mule relents to the incessant tugging and plods slowly out into the less dense area near the road. ”Thank you” responds the man, pulling out a very wrinkled and mud stained paper from his beltpouch. ”Now, if we’re here, and Oleg’s is supposed to be there, that means we should head… That way!” exclaims the man, only to realize he’s pointing back into the forest he just left. To his left, the mule snickers. ”Ah shut it you manky git before I feed you to the wolves!” he snaps, ”I’ll probably find them before Oleg’s at this rate.”
Deciding that the road is better than cross country through the wilderness, the frustrated man and his mule trod on, with the man pausing every so often to remove foliage from a crease in his studded leather armor, adjust the wooden shield or bow on his back, or a stone from his boot. It is clear from his antics the man is not very comfortable out in the woods, and yet he stoically heads on. Pausing for a moment, he adjusts some things on his pack animal, and reveals a small drum with a shoulder strap. Slinging it over his shoulder, he begins tapping out a marching rhythm with his free hand, and his mood improves almost instantly. He’s of average height and build, with a few days of growth on his chin, and chestnut colored eyes and hair. In addition to the shield and bow, he has a long sword on one hip, and a quiver of arrows are visible under the shield.
Seeing the group ahead, he calls out in a surprisingly booming voice, ”Hello there! Any of you know the way to Oleg’s?”
"Zhe cats live you cities?" he asks, and gives the cat a doubtful look, What manner of place are the kingdoms of small men?! He notes Castor looking around, "You are zhinking zhere is more zhan one?" and takes a look himself.
His searching is cut short as the mule-puller comes noisily onto the scene behind them, his eyebrows lifted in surprise as he watches the show. As the man approaches and makes a friendly greeting, Brom relaxes somewhat, but the presence of a second horsey makes that a little difficult. "Hello. Ve are going towards Oleg's. It is zhat vay." and points vaguely towards the wilderness. He gives Castor a questioning glance, "Maybe ve all valk togezher a vays, yes?"
The cat remains rather lifeless as the traveller noisily approaches the group, all but the occasional twitch at the end of it's shaggy tail. In a rare bout of action, it half lifts a paw to swat at a gnat that buzzes about its pug nose. But finally resigns from the task, resuming the steady trailing of the growing band of travellers.
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A puzzled look flashes across Will’s face as he tries to figure out what the big man said, and is quickly replaced with a warm smile as he realizes that Brom knows how to get to Oleg’s. ”Iff’n you don’t mind, I’d love to join you for a spell. I’ve never been this far out of a city before. It was going well before I found that short cut... and the logs… and the sink hole… and the thorn bushes… oh, and the wasp nest.” the last part causing him to unconsciously rub a spot on the back of his neck.
Not seeing anyone in the immediate surroundings, Castor takes his attention away from the cat and offers Brom a handshake. "I am Castor Antares, humble follower of the Starsong, Desna. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
His attention is called away once more when a third man makes his presence known out of the bushes, cursing and dragging a mule behind himself.
"It would be a pleasure to have another traveler joining our ranks. Pardon my asking, but does that cat belong to you?" Castor asks, nodding in the feline's direction.
Hearing of the bard's misadventures and noticing the itching, Castor eyes the newcomer over, looking for any signs of wounds or bleeding. "You seem rather uncomfortable, are you injured?"
Brom clasps Castors forearm in a firm grip, seeming to intentionally go for the slightly archaic form of greeting.
Later, Brom has a hard time himself following the mans tale, but he seems innocent enough, as small men go. He stands a little straighter when it seems Castor is comfortable with the stranger, his voice getting a formal edge, "I am Brom of Zhe People." and then immediately relaxes, "Zhat is Castor, and Capella is zhe horsey. Zhis is Krasa," and bounces the hammer off his shoulder to point it out. He looks back at the cat, still following, "Vhat are you called, small man? And is zhat your cat?" he lifts Krasa in a well-muscled arm and uses it to point at the feline.
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”Names Will Thatcher, and I’m a humble soldier of Restov. If you think that cat belongs to me, you clearly haven’t been watching the excellent manner in which I handle this stubborn bag of bones. I just assumed it was yours Brom. Castor has Capella, I have Bob here,” replies Will, motioning the mule behind him. ”It just made the most sense.”
With no one claiming the large feline, Will does his best to lead Bob to the opposite side of the travelling group, I can barely control Bob with no distractions, add a hungry cat to that I’ll be dragged halfway back to Restov on my back.
Surprised by the strength of Brom's greeting, Castor can only thank his saddle for not finding himself off his horse all of a sudden.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Will. If I may be so indiscreet, what business are the two of you looking to conduct at the trading post?"
Brom sighs as the cat's owner fails to materialize, and kicks some dirt at it, "Be going cat, before ve get hungry." He acknowledges Will, "Vill Zhatcher, nice to be meeting you. Let us go on before zhe night is falling."
What an odd situation. Suddenly there are small men appearing everywhere. This one is even a soldier! I must observe him closely, and keep him close if I am to learn from him. As they talk Brom does his best to ignore the cat, and then Castor asks his question of them, causing the the barbarian to pull the charter from his pouch, "I have zhis." he says simply, and shows it to Castor.
"Unfortunately, it's mine." calls a small voice from beside the road. Seated high upon one of the branches overhanging the road, rests an olive-skinned halfling. His black hair is tied up in a blue bandana, and his clothes are an eclectic mix of layers and bright patterns. His furry feet dangle beneath him. "He's not a very discreet creature..."
"I couldn't help but overhear your conversation as I followed you through the wood." he continues, bright smile and emerald eyes beaming; then pauses as if hearing his own statement for the first time. "Which I must admit sounds rather suspicious. You mentioned Olag's, however, which creates a rather serendipitous occassion you see, as I'm bound there myself. And good news..." He delights, with a smirk. "You've intrigued me!"
At that, the halfling wriggles to the end of his perch, and lithely slips to the ground a dozen feet below.
The lethargic feline behind them picks himself up and pads up to the four before resuming his seated position.
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At the mention of business, Will's face becomes stone, "I am on business for the sword lords, and to honor a friend." Will's hand grasps the hilt of his sword, feeling its stability and cold steel. A moment passes, and then Will relaxes slightly, releasing the sword and pulling out a similar paper to that which Brom has. "Appears we may be working together Brom!"
The barbarian's facial scars pull as the man smiles back at Will, but he glances at Cappi out of the corner of his eye, watching as the halfling falls with surprising grace from the tree. "Zhis is... good!" he manages, still in a bit of shock at Cappi's appearance, and then turns his full attention to Cappi, "Hello, very small man. You are very small and bright. Vhy do you not make yourself known to us before now?" and cranes his head to look up where Cappi first called out to them, still trying to puzzle out how the halfling did it.
He returns his gaze down towards the ground, feeling very tall in the halflings presence, "Vhat are you called zhen?"
Castor gives a hearty chuckle, drawing a charter of his own out of one of his bags. "It seems the stars of luck have driven us together ahead of time."
Castor raises an eyebrow, casting a baffled gaze at the strange halfling that had just dropped by them. "Yes, it does sound rather suspicious. Would you care to explain why you were thusly hiding yourself? Did you, perhaps, intend to pilfer some goods before we noticed you?"
"You accuse me before you even know me?!" He replies to Castor's skepticism with rather unconvincing indignation--mouth wide open and single eyebrow raised. Scoffing, then smiling suspiciously. "Hardly. I had nothing but the best intentions!" The cheeky halfling traces a small 'X' across his chest. "After all, you don't appear to possess anything worth the risk I'd take in crossing Krasa." He steals a quick glance at Brom's Earthbreaker, an implement far heftier than the halfling himself. "To be honest," he continues, "I was debating helping you with your previous pebble dilemma, when Brom here caught my attention. I was impressed at the fortuitous happenstance, that you both would be seeking the same place as myself. But ultimately decided to wait before playing my hand. How was I supposed to know if I actually wanted to grace you with my presence? What if you were all mind-numbingly boring? Or hideously unattractive people? You know, it's difficult to tell from the forest. If I just ran in, I'd be rather stuck... wouldn't you say?"
There's a skip in his step as he walks, keeping pace with the large scarred man beside him; the beads about his clothing and hair jangling as he does so. "Oh, and you can call me Beau, for the time being." Another smirk. "It only seems fair as I've already heard your names."
Brom has trouble following the sarcasm-laden explanation, but he doesn't feel danger from the small being, except when he eyed Krasa, and Brom clutched the large weapon possessively until Beau's attention moved on. "So... ve are not boring or unhandsome to you zhen?" he asks carefully, then laughs, "HA! I like zhis very little Beau man." secretly relieved that he didn't have to introduce everyone and the animals and weapons again. He does lift a warning finger at the halfling, "You vill not be stealing Krasa, or ve vill have problem, yes?" his other hand unconsciously stroking the hammer as one would reassure a scared child.
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Will laughs out loud at the idea of the halfling trying to cart off the large weapon without causing a very obvious commotion. "Well Beau, while your intentions may not have been nefarious, you can clearly understand why we might be suspicious of someone watching in secret from a tree."
As the mood lightens, Will begins to tap out a more uplifting beat on the drum at his hip. "Are we ready to move on to Oleg's? How far do you think we have to yet to go?"
"It's a very impressive weapon," Cappi states with admiration, "but as a rule: there's no point in taking something that isn't better served in your own hands or out of someone elses." Noting that Brom may not be following, "That is, I do believe Krasa is best right where she is."
"Well Beau, while your intentions may not have been nefarious, you can clearly understand why we might be suspicious of someone watching in secret from a tree."
Cappi's eyes narrow, as he nods in consideration of Will's words. "People tell me that often." he concedes.
[dice=Sense motive vs. "Beau"'s false name bluff]1d20+7[/dice]
A wide grin traces itself on Castor's face from "Beau"'s posturing. He makes no effort to apologize for his inquiries, but his disposition brightens as the halfling offers an explanation. While something about the halfling seems a little off, Castor sets it aside as merely the fruit of the latter's odd attitude.
"Good to know that we are not so boring as to scare a fellow traveler away." Castor smirks, turning his attention back to the road as Capella's hooves begin following Will's beat with every step. "Am I to guess that you have also been chartered for the Greenspan, Beau? Or are you headed to Oleg's for some other affair?"
"Am I to guess that you have also been chartered for the Greenspan, Beau? Or are you headed to Oleg's for some other affair?"
Without making eye-contact, the halfling can't help but grin at the question... leaving little doubt as to whether he too possesses a Charter of Restov. "Could it be both?" he finally replies with a question, having clearly pondered the question for the past minute or so. He then turns to face the Cleric with a twinkle in his eye.
"If I did possess such a charter as the three of you," he poses, as if hypothetically, "then our chance meeting and shared destination would be much less serendipitous. Which is not as remarkable as most great stories begin..."
Bursting forth at a full gallop, a black horse streaks down the road carrying an blonde haired rider. Moving at a rate of an imperial messenger, he closed on the cordial group at alarming speed only to skid to a stop in the dirt road in a great cloud of dust. Emerging from the cloud, off of his horse was a tall farmer dressed in overalls carrying a stick so ornate, it seemed to be worth far more than any lands he could possibly hold.
"Howdy!" he said cheerfully. "How y'all doin'?" He smiled brightly at them, extending his hand in friendship.
Brom walks along with the others, tapping one finger on Krasa's handle in time with the beat, "I am having question. Is it happening often, zhis naming of animals? It is most strange to me." He does his best to avoid getting too close to either Bob or Capella, rubbing subconsciously at one of the larger scars on his forearm whenever one or the other gets too close. He squints his eyes as he looks to where the sun is close to setting, "I do not zhink ve shall be arriving zhis day. Perhaps a camp is good, yes?" he inquires of the others.
Just then the horseman comes flying nearly into their midst, and Brom had turned to face the oncoming rider, Krasa readied in his hands, and his eyes wide in preparation for battle! But then the stranger stopped in an impressive display of horsemanship, and Brom had to brush the dust cloud away from his face as he heart ceased racing and his adrenaline lowered to normal levels. I am as a flame to a field of small man moths! he thinks to himself at the growing number of folks. He relaxes his grip on Krasa, but doesn't quite reach for the newcomers hand, worried about getting too close to the animal, "Ve are dusty. Vhere do you go vith such speed?"
With a slight step backwards, Cappi casually ensures that Brom stands firmly between the rapidly approaching animal and himself. He closes his eyes and buries his head in his scarf to shielf from the dust cloud.
After the introduction, the halfling stands silent with eyebrows raised and an unintentionally slow-spreading grin. Mind-numbingly boring... certainly not.
The elf slapped his forehead and put his other hand on his hip. "Gosh, I'm sorry about the dust. I was gettin' sneaked up on a few miles back and I figured I'd jus' see how much they wanted to catch me. 'Spossible they jus' bein' cautious, well, so am I." He stuck his hand back out in expectation of a handshake again.
"My name's Tshilaba Vadoma, but if that's a mouthful, you can call me Uncle Vado. I'm used to it 'cause I'm older than most anybody I meet."
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"Gods above man, were you in such a hurry to say hello you couldn't have slowed down a bit before showing us with dirt and dust?" coughs Will, wiping dust from his eyes and mouth.
"Just because I dress in browns, doesn't mean I like dirt. Anyway, what can we do for you?" he asks, trying to calm his mule, who nearly bolted over the rushing horse.
"It is a common thing indeed. When adopting an animal as a companion or a long time helper, it is customary to give it a name of its own, to act as an identifer, but also a term of endearment." Castor gently scratches the back of his mount's ear as he explains, and is thanked by a satisfied nicker. "As for setting up camp, I would agree. It may be wise to halt our route and establish a camp before nightfall. This way, we can arrive early tomorrow, while the day is still young."
As a thunder of hooves makes itself heard, he calls his mount to a stop and turns in his saddle to see the new arrival. Recognizing the traits of an elf, he nods and smiles.
Well met, Tshilaba. I am Castor Antares. he says, in fluent elven, shaking the wizard's hand and thanking his lucky stars that his mounted height prevented the dust from getting him too badly. For the benefit of their fellow travelers, Castor returns to speaking in the common tongue "We are fine, thank you for your inquiry. What about yourself?"
Castor's eyes stop for a moment upon the ornate staff. "A magician, is it?" he thinks to himself.
"Am I to assume you are to become yet another member of our chartered group?"
He eyes the young looking fellow requesting to be called 'Uncle', This is not a small man I shall be looking to learn from... But it's not in his nature to leave a man hanging, and so cautiously extending his arm, leaning a bit at the waist and likely looking a bit ridiculous. Vell met Shchlaba." he says, butchering the poor fellows name, "I am Brom..." and introduces the others. He looks back down the road now that much of the dust has cleared, "Vhere are your followers? Not determined, yes?" and waits to hear the man respond to Will.
With dust beginning to settle, the red-maned cat slowly steps back o ut from the underbrush. While its actions are calm and controlled, the still raised hair betrays that such control may be a recent development. It's also not clear when exactly the creature leapt into the brush, but it clearly found some previously unseen motivation and purpose.
With the same non-chalance with which the cat emerged, 'Beau' submerges at the mention of pursuers. Before he can be properly introduced, the halfling disappears again.
"Aw, geepers. You don't have to get all sour on me. I'm jus' headin' to a little trading post around here somewheres. I'm lookin' to catch me some bandits. Jus' gotta make sure they bandits. That's all."
He still stubbornly held out his hand, waiting for a shake and finally getting one from Castor. He replied in flawless Elven with a Kyonin accent, "I am glad to meet you as well, young son."
"As for me, I'm doin' peachy. I ain't got no troubles to speak of in particular." He smiled his big grin again.
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"Well, if you are heading to a trade post to catch bandits, you appear to be on the same errand as the rest of us. We were about to set up camp for the evening, and there is safety in numbers, so you are welcome to join us." says Will.
Looking around as they walk, Will sees a broad patch of oily green leaves in a trefoil design. "That looks like a decent spot if anyone wants to help me clear out some of these plants for a decent firepit." Will then rummages through his mule's pack to find his shovel before setting to work.
Looking around, he notes the new absence of the halfling, betrayed by the presence of his cat. "And so, the strange halfling vanishes. What an odd character."
Moments later, he notes the return of "Beau". "Ah, there you are care to give us a hand?"
Castor dismounts from his horse and unhitches her saddlebags from her back, piling them at the foot of a nearby tree. He shrugs off his backpack and sets it next to them. Rummaging through it, he extracts a roll of string, a small brass bell tied to one of its ends.
"This is a simple but useful trick my father taught me. A good length of string and a bell make for a poor man's alarm magic." Delimiting a circle around Will's fire pit, Castor gathers a few twigs and plants them as makeshift pitons, drawing a tight circle of string around their camp. He ties one end of the string to the tree's trunk, and leaves the other end, the one bearing the bell, untied. "Should a bandit attempt to sneak into our midst under cover of night, he will trip the string and ring the bell, alerting our guard at once."
Castor pauses for a moment, drinking the last few drops of his waterskin's contents, then holds the empty container up at eye level. "Hm... this simply will not do." He thinks aloud.
A quick word of Celestial and a symbolic placement of his hands in the shape of a bowl later, a small but steady stream of water pours from out of thin air, refilling the container. Moments later, Castor undoes the strap attaching a simple bucket to Capella's saddle and fills it in the same way, leaving the mare to drink and graze her fill. "Is anyone else in need of drinkable water?" He asks.
His deed done, Castor fetches his tent from the saddlebags, a small shelter of metallic poles and black fabric. "I am usually of the early to bed, early to rise persuasion. Would it be fine with all of you if I were to claim my turn of watch in the early morning? I am at my best then, having freshly made prayer to the Starsong."
Brom also notes Beau's disappearance, and subsequent reappearance when bandits failed to follow the new elf. "Zhat is good trick, very little Beau man. You can be teaching Brom zhis, yes?" He helps will clear an area, using one of his sharp handaxes to cut away shrubs when he realizes what Will is doing. He watches Castor set up the trap, wondering if this was a small man tactic meant to replace a sentry. He ceased his ponderings after awhile, laying out a thick blanket and using the out-of-place buckler as a pillow, Krasa alongside him. Before laying down he listens to the sounds of nature and the beautiful wilderness, taking a deep cleansing breath to take it all in. The sounds of a camp are not new to him, but there are distinct differences between these small men, and those of The People. Brom tries to not be too obvious as he observes the pitches of tents, clearing of land with a shovel, caring for the horses, and other new behaviors. While he doesn't understand much of what is happening, he tries to take it all in just the same, all the while munching some rations.
Eventually he engages the others in conversation, "Zhis gathering ve are doing, zhis is... ser-en-dip-it-ous, as very small man Beau says, yes?" He also offers to take middle watch in an effort to accommodate Castors strange request, privately relieved to hear that a watch will be set.
Watching from a distance.. "Strangers to each other it seems.. Not at all like bandits.. Well i can't sit out in the dark all night.." Kurgan sighs and starts to slowly approach the fire from the road..
Talking loudly.. "Hello there! Does your fire have room for a lonely traveler? I come in peace.." Remaining wary Kurgan is instantly ready to bolt to the woods if the group seems hostile..
Brom starts from his near sleep, one hand pushing him to a sitting position, the other hand falling quickly to Krasa, "Huh..?" but through his haze of near-sleep, the word 'peace' does come through. The barbarian peers into the gathered darkness, eyes largely unseeing, "Who is zhere? Ve vill defend ourselves against a foe! If you are peaceful, be showing your face."