Lali does, in fact, see Akiros riding over to the Stag Lord's fortress, up the path, and to the roughly-hewn wooden gate. Judging from his size while mounted, the walls seem to be between fifteen and twenty feet high, depending on the surface of the hill below the spiked logs.
Cyanne is unable to decipher any pattern in the bobbing light that disappeared in the Kamelands. However, as their vigil over the Stag Lord's fortress continues, she does spot some commotion. As the half moon tucks under the Narlmarch's treeline, a half dozen riders begin to make their way across the plain, heading straight for the gates. Sandwiched between them is a large figure in what Cyanne can tell is fairly expensive armor. The armored man carries no weapon, and his armor is battered and dented. After a few minutes, the riders make it to the keep, which bursts into activity. It takes a few minutes, but through the looking-glass, Cyanne eventually makes out a figure in a horned helm, who appears on the wall for only a minute before disappearing down into the fortress.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Meanwhile, at the camp, Kesten finishes glaring at Mikmek and the rest of the high-ranked kobolds and turns to Daen, Kazimir, and Luthor. "I've been in a few campaigns, border skirmishes between the Garress and the Lebeda. Thing is, there's a big difference between fighting against a whole garrison with siege weapons and a hundred men and what we're planning here. It doesn't seem to me that there's more than fifteen in there, but I still don't see an assault working without some cleverness. Any ideas?" He sits on the dirt near the campfire, looking to the party curiously.
As Kesten talks, you can just hear the hoot of an owl, somewhere far off in the distance.
”Who the heck?” Lali exclaims when Cyanne describes the armored figure. She frowns ”Mebbe we oughta get closer…” Her voice tails off as she things.
Liliytsa reckons it'd take a couple hours to get that close, since it is several miles away.
Laliytsa shares her idea with Cyanne. "Not sure if'n we oughta try. Could always check it m'self, have yeh go back to camp so they know what's goin' on."
"Damn, there he was. We could have shot him from here and be done with it!" Cyanne's frustration is visible. "We should not split up any further. Tyg, Perli... are you here?"
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Looking around the silent group, Kazimir sighs. "Well, we need to either get in there, or draw them out. I doubt anything will get them [i]all[/i[ out of there, though." Looking down at Mikmek, he raises his eyebrows and asks, "Mikmek, your people are miners, right? Do you think you could get under the wall?"
After a few moments, Perli pokes her head out of Lali's saddle bags. "Yeah, I'm here. You bigginzes are booooring tonight. I ent slept so hard in a long time." She pauses, stretches her back and arms luxuriously, then stops, struck by a sudden thought. "Hey, you two should come inside! I made a nice home in there from some...odds and ends."
At the Stag Lord's fortress, the walls are and the guards in the towers stand still, although they periodically seem to walk to the inward-facing sides to look at whatever's going on. The arrival of the armored man and the group of bandits would seem to have been unexpected.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
As Daen translates Kazimir's question into Draconic, all the kobolds start yammering and chittering away at once. Shouts of "Need bracings every 5 lengths!" and "No, every 6 is fine!" and "Ouch! No tail-pulls" fill the air, and the kobolds again descend into chaotic fighting between themselves.
Kesten shakes his head slowly and walks over to Kazimir. Putting a hand on the farmboy's shoulder, he sighs. "Your friend Mikmek isn't enough of a leader to control his men. I've seen this before, with levied soldiers in our battles against House Lebeda. They need someone to instill some sort of discipline." He pauses, then continues. "I think it's possible they could sap the wall, but not if they're constantly fighting. You may need to sort them out a bit, since you're the closest thing to a general on this expedition. I don't know enough about the enemy or the land, or I'd volunteer myself."
Meanwhile, the kobold scrum continues, with shouts about support length giving way to a...heated discussion about the best way to proceed below the water line.
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Kazmir sighs at Kesten's words. "Do you really think I'm the right person to-" he begins, before a memory of a large white cervine face and wise brown eyes flashes into his mind.
Times will soon change, and strong yet gentle leadership will be needed. Erastil does not question your ability, only your will. Will you lead, if the burden is thrust upon you?
"Oy!" he calls, turning away from Kesten and looking out over the kobolds. He motions for Daen to continue translating before pacing back and forth, speaking as he goes.
"You're too scattered - everyone wants to speak at once. That needs to change. You can't have a civil discussion when you're all speaking over each other. Mikmek-" he punctuates his statement by pointing at the kobold in question - the one he thinks is Mikmek, anyway. "You're in charge of the others. Nakpik, you're..." He pauses for a moment, trying to remember the term. "Second in command. And Mikmek answers to me." It feels strange placing himself in charge of the scaly humanoids, but he keeps his chin up and his voice strong.
"We need to get over or under this wall. If you can collapse it, make a breach, even better. So figure out a way to do it - no yelling, no squealing, and especially no tail-pulling. If you can't follow those rules..." His mind races, trying to recall the disciplines of his childhood. "I'll start knocking heads together," he finishes lamely, making vague hand gestures to illustrate the point.
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Under Kazimir’s withering eye (and the threat of head-bashing) the kobolds eventually settle down. Though the discussion remains heated, the tail-pulling seems to stop for the most part while Nakpik draws out tunnel plans in the dirt with a stick and Mikmek prowls about, glaring at the others and occasionally making good on Kazimir’s promise to knock a head or two.
As dawn slowly breaks over the camp, Cyanne and Laliytsa arrive back at the camp. Shortly after, another guest arrives, this one less expected. An eagle appears on the horizon, carried by the morning’s thermals, and wings quickly toward the camp. As it gets close, it banks and begins spiralling to the ground, where it lands directly in front of Daen and extends a large talon. Attached to the talon is a scroll, sealed with the wax seal of House Surtova. As Daen unseals the message and begins reading, his brow furrows, and when he finishes, he shoves the letter toward Cyanne and begins packing up his part of the camp.
Daen,
As you no doubt know, Leo has been assigned to Restov for a few years to keep an eye on our southern border. While the Aldori have been outwardly welcoming to him, he has found much obstruction in his investigations. We request that you immediately return to Restov and offer him what assistance you can as his aide de camp. He has been told to expect you within ten days.
Lord Noeleski Surtova, Regent of the Dragonscale Throne
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
As a young mother tries to keep her baby from screaming while barely holding back sobs of her own, you reflect on the just-passed night.
It’s been rough.
Eight nights ago, you set off with Sir Walhem Norvensen, a crusader you met in Libertine. You and a few others had been looking for passage across the Stolen Lands to Restov, and he claimed to know the way. For the most part, the journey was uneventful. Then, as dusk gave way to darkness last night, Sir Walhem saw a torch in the distance. Being cautious, he’d decided to investigate himself, leaving you behind to ”watch over the lasses.” He also said ”If I’m not back in two hours, keep moving north.” He never returned.
Since then, the night has grown more and more panicky. A few hours ago, you heard angry-sounding shouts from the southeast, but nothing since then. Still, many of the people in your group were old, travelling with children, or obviously green, and it’s becoming clear they won’t be able to keep moving like this forever.
Just ahead, perhaps a mile further north, you can see a thin wisp of smoke making its way over the many hills the group of travelers still has to summit. The baby starts to bawl again, and this time, the mother (you remember from a previous conversation that her name is Hanna Weib, from Daggermark, and that she was travelling alone) joins in, sobbing exhaustedly in the early morning light.
Graelem sighs and rubs his eyes for what seems like the hundredth time as he hears the baby start to bawl again.
Why did she insist on coming along? Her presence has slowed us down more than I like! If bandits got to Walhem then they are not far behind us!
He slowly walks over to the young woman, trying to muffle the clinking sound of his chainmail armor, and gives her a tired smile placing a hand upon her shoulder.
"Miss Hanna, I need you to quiet your child down." He gently strokes her cheek. "I know this journey has been a tough one. The Gods know I feel my bones ache in this cold damp air!" He says softly to her.
He grunts in pain as his tired muscles spasm with exhaustion. While he could use his magic here to ease the aching in his bones, he knew wasting his magic would be unwise, especially in these hostile lands. He waves the other travelers over to a small clearing just off the path. "OK all of you get off the path and hide yourselves. Keep quiet and I shall return shortly." He orders them in no uncertain terms.
At least it will give them a chance to rest here.
He turns to one of the older men who he recalls was trained in weaponplay and adds quietly, "I saw smoke a mile up ahead. I am going to check it out. Wait here until I return." Without giving the man a chance to object here he slips off and heads towards the hill where the smoke was rising from.
Cyanne looks down with undisguised dismay at the letter that has been shoved at her by Daen. "Oh, no. Hells, no." She passes it to Lali, Kaz and Luthor before stomping into Daen's tent.
It's only a few minutes later before Tango dashes out, climbing up Luthor to hide in the witch's hair next to Rikka as Cyanne's shouting explodes from the tent.
”It’s something I have to do.” Daen looks stricken and unsure, and he counts to himself for a few seconds before continuing. ”If the family was to accept me...you don’t know what that would mean. So I have to go, and it has to be now. You can come with me; I’d like to have you, but it’s up to you.” He pauses, then holds out a hand. ”You and me?”
To the south, on top of a nearby hill, stands a single figure. He seems to be staring down onto your camp, or perhaps in another direction; the distance is too difficult to be sure.
The sun peeks over the hills as you summit yet another one, casting light down on both sides of it.
Due south of you, it’s easy to spot the group of travelers in spite of their attempts to hide. Many of them brought to many belongings to ever be considered sneaky, and with so many people having no woodscraft skills, their camouflage is less than adequate. Worse, they haven’t been able to get far off the game trail you were following.
To the north, down the hill maybe half a mile, sits a much more welcome sight. Several tents are pitched in a rough sort of circle, the biggest of which seems to be flying the dragon of Brevoy over its canvas roof. A few horses stand nearby, hobbled and munching on the morning’s feed, but most of the camp’s occupants are gathered in a clump, watching one of their number shout at another. From this distance, it’s too difficult to make out what’s being said.
To the southwest, near the edge of a lake, sits a wooden stockade perched atop a much smaller hill than yours. At this distance, and without the tools to look more closely, the occupants aren’t even visible; in fact, it looks like little more than a toy. However, the dust cloud leaving its gates can only be mounted men, heading out into the Kamelands to the east. If they keep their same course, it’s likely they’ll pass the group of travelers on their way to the camp with the flag over it.
Bandits! If they catch us down there, they will be cut to pieces! Our only chance is to reach the Brevoyians and warn them!
Knowing time is of the essence, he abandons any pretense of stealth, instead opting for speed. Once he reaches the traveler camp he waves his arms wildly to get their attention. Once they have noticed him he exhorts them breathlessly, "Move...MOVE! Mounted men are heading right for us! There is a camp of Brevoy soldiers but a half mile from here! We can reach them but we must HURRY! Leave anything that will slow you down!"
Once they are underway he will take position on the rear guard to slow down the bandit forces should they overtake his party.
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Cyanne takes a deep breath, pacing back and forth. "You know and I know that the Surtovas will never accept you until they're forced to do so. This isn't just about seeking acceptance from the Surtovas. That was the old you. Daen, you're playing a deeper game. I saw you with rebel underground in Restov, and saw the moment of decision in your face." She meets his gaze, her blue eyes sharp. "Of course it will be you and me. You're entering this as a spy mission, aren't you? You're looking not only to serve, but also for information, and for that you'll need back up."
She takes his hand. "Daen Rulanir, I have followed you into mite-infested hollows and traveled with you into kobold territory. I've fought barfing gremlins, and gone into battle. Now I will follow you into the worst den of vipers of all. Wherever you go, there I'll be." She takes his hand, and squeezes it. "Forever."
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Laliytsa reads the letter, sighs, then passes it to Luthor. She can hear Cyanne shouting at Daen, but she already knows how this going to go. If she's honest with herself she's almost glad they're leaving now; Kaz's death was a stark reminder of the group's mortality.
Kazimir takes the letter as Lali passes it to him, stopping his momentary struggle to buckle his own breastplate. His lips move silently as he reads. "They're leaving?" he asks Lali, eyes wide in disbelief. He sighs, letting his arms drop to his sides, and starting in alarm when his right hand bumps against a smooth scaly head. "Sorry," he mutters, glancing down at the nearby kobold, and struggling to remember its name. "Nah, was it?"
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"Big chief back home gave Sourpuss new orders" Lali answers. "Blue Hair's his mate so she's gonna go with. Ain't good timin' but.." she shrugs again.
Cyanne comes out of the tent shaking, and runs to Lali, throwing herself in the older woman's arms. "Lali... I don't know how to tell you..." There are tears running down her face. "Daen has to go and I'm... going with him. By Shelyn, I'm going to miss you all."
She kisses Lali on the cheek, then Luthor, and then hugs Kaz fiercely. "You guys are going to take care of yourselves, right?'
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The strange little clockwork dubbed 'Boo' makes a few clicking and ticking sounds as it rises up on its legs and carefully walks up the kobold's arm and settles on her shoulder. It seems to shrug it's...legs...as if saying, "What do you expect?"
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"I, uhm..." Luthor mumbled as the arrival of the letter suddenly made his world collapse around him. True, their days had been filled with uncertainty, going from one unknown to the other, but amidst it all, he had atleast been able to count on the bedrock of their groups dynamic to keep him grounded. As much as he understood the what and the why, as he read the letter Lali handed him, he found himself feeling selfish, almost hurt, by the prospect of two of his friends leaving him. "Not you, US, this isnt about you!" He thought, forcing himself to refrain from dwelling on self pity.
He cringed visibly as Cyannes shouting erupted from the tent. His time with his parents and later Aron and Lirpeth had afforded him his share of situations as bystander to someone elses trouble, and he never knew what to do with himself, at once wanting to find something else to occupy his mind, but at the same time too curious to not listen.
Having slowly inched to stand near Kazimir (atleast partially subconsciously) as things happened around him, he stepped out of his shadow to accept Cyannes parting gesture. "Me, me too." He mumbled, rubbing his chin where she had kissed him. "Lets just agree to not make this our last goodbye ok?" He said, feeling his eyes subtly water at the edges.
A mix of a want for distraction and genuine interest in the Kobold Kaz had called "Nah" drew his attention, and he turned towards the diminutive creature in time to wipe his eyes. "So, Nah huh? Im Luthor, but I guess you know that though? Uhm, interesting critter youve got there, and..." He paused, straightened up and tilted his head with a questioning expression. "..And...youre pink?"
Cyanne gathers up Tango from where the little mongoose lay tangled with Rikka in Luthor's hair. There are tears in her eyes as well. "If I can come back, I will. I'm going to be in Restov, and goodness knows the Surtovas will not be kind to Daen. He needs me there. I'll write when I can. Luthor? Remember. Choose love, and don't look back."
"It's nice meeting you, Nah." She kneels down to Nah. "Will you remember to say 'bye' to Mikmek for me? He's an old friend."
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"Blue Hair is fine. My actual name, Cyanne, means 'blue.'" There is a trace of amusement in Cyanne's face, despite the worry and the tears. Then she gazes up at Daen, who has already saddled the horses. It didn't take long to pack her things. She'd always traveled light.
She looks to her close friends, giving them each one last hug.
♫ This isn't what I had planned to do
I'd always thought I'd be always with you
But sometimes love takes you to places quite strange
Sometimes love tells you you have to face change
Sometimes you have to leap without knowing why
But this won't be forever, this isn't good bye
You have all earned places deep in my heart
They can't keep a love like that forever apart ♫
"You write to me too, okay?" With that, she releases her friends, and turns to look up at Daen with tears in her eyes. "We've a long way to go tonight. We'd best just go."
Daen nods, and waves, unable to find the words at this difficult time. Then he realizes that he cannot leave his friends without one last word. "No stupid heroics this time, Kaz. Use all you've got, and cut them down before they can get to you. Lali, shoot them the moment you see them. Luthor, cast every trick in your arsenal. When Cyanne and I return, we want to find you all alive. Got that?"
Cyanne's lip quirks upward, despite the tears. "You could just tell them that you love them, you know."
Daen scowls. "Think they don't know that?" He waves awkwardly, and then mounts his horse expertly. Cyanne has already mounted Volte and looks back at all of you, and then the two ride off.
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Kazimir returns Cyanne's hug, wrapping his arms around her narrower frame and squeezing tightly. "You'll take care of yourself, right? And him?" he asks, swallowing hard as soon as the words are out. One hand clenches stiffly and awkwardly in his gauntlet, as if to keep himself stable. "Don't give up on each other, and don't forget us."
Despite everything, Daen's parting words draw a grin from him, and he wipes his eyes on his sleeve as the pair depart. After watching the pair ride into the distance, he heaves a deep sigh, nods a few times, and lays a heavy hand on Luthor's shoulder. "They'll be fine," he says absent-mindedly, not even certain who he's trying to convince.
As he sits heavily to struggle with his greaves and sabatons, realizing only too late that he would have been best off putting his gauntlets on last (but too proud to ask for help), he finds himself near eye-level with Nah and the strange contraption on her shoulder. He has several questions for the kobold, but the first one that comes out is, "Are kobolds not usually pink?"
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Spirits among the guards are low at Cyanne and Daen turn their horses north and east, heading back towards Restov. They huddle around the breakfast fire, occasionally casting dirty looks at the direction of the two former party members and nervous, apprehensive ones to the west. Kesten chooses not to take part in the breakfast circle, instead retreating to his tent, where a lot of swearing and an occasional crash can be heard. After a few minutes, he emerges, red-faced, and joins the guards in looking toward the west. "We're in a pretty precarious position here. Before, we probably had the numbers to have some sort of siege, but now...it's hard to see how our situation could be worse."
As he finishes his sentence, Mirjam looks to the top of a nearby hill, then points. "We've got people moving on the hill. Looks like they're coming right at us." The guards freeze for a moment, staring up at the dozen or so figures cresting the hill and making their way hurriedly north, and then burst into activity, searching frantically for their weapons and pulling on their mail.
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Laliytsa hugs Cyanne tightly, choking back her emotions. Dammit, she’s really going to miss both of them. ”Take care of Sourpuss, an’ watch yer back too. Wanna see ya again soon.” She catches Daen’s eye and gives him a salute.
Watching the two ride off is one of the hardest things she’s ever done. What she really needs is a distraction. She grabs her quiver, plops herself down by the fire and starts going through her arrows, looking for any faults.
”Ain’t nothin’ wrong with pink” she grunts. ”I like it. ‘Sides, lookin’ fierce an’ bein’ fierce is two differen’ things.”
She doesn’t get a chance to say anything else before Kesten starts to speak. Then Mirjam spots the strangers and all hell breaks loose. Lali grabs her bow and starts moving closer to the unknown people, cursing herself as she goes. That’s the last time she wishes for a ‘distraction’
She still has that spyglass, so she pulls it out and tries to get a better look at the group
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Graelem slows his movement once he has crested the hill and spares a brief moment to see how far the mounted horsemen are behind them. Not far enough it looks like! He grimaces to himself.
Taking a lead position ahead of the others, he sprints down the hill making sure his hands are held away from his weapons. Holding his symbol of his goddess, the golden sword wreathed in flames, Iomedae aloft he skids to a halt in front of the closest perimeter guard.
"I am Graelem Nordstraum, holy servant of the Lady of Valor and leader of these refugees. It is urgent I speak with the commander at once! There is a mounted force of men which I believe are bandits heading directly for you!"
As he scans the group closely he scans the soldiers and also the itinerant adventurers along with...kobolds??
That tale will need to wait I am afraid. We have more pressing concerns.
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"Oh nothing wrong with pink!" Luthor exclaimed, holding up his hands and shaking both them and his head. "Its just, ive read a bit about Kobolds, never heard of pink. Just curious." He said, scratching at the back of his head with an embarrassed look on his face. Hearing Nahs talk of scales and what color she was supposed to be, he chimed in, timidly, unsure how to word the next so as not to offend. "Its not like kobolds never have different colors from the tribe, isnt that sometimes a good thing? ill admit I wasnt always too happy about being different, I still arent sometimes, but it brought me here." He looked at his remaining friends, then the direction Daen and Cyanne had gone. "Atleast being different is never boring, and it tends to get you interesting company if nothing else."
----
As the camp erupted into a general state of chaos, Luthor didnt know what to do with himself. Already, missing Daen and Cyanne made him feel somehow smaller and weaker, and ended up remaining in place, following what was happening and hoping he wouldnt freeze up if things turned hostile.
A couple of the travelers trudging into the party’s camp offer grateful looks to Luthor or suspicious glances at the kobolds, but for most of them, exhaustion is clear on their faces. One young woman with a baby no more than a few months old walks a bit past the fire, faces away, and begins to nurse, sobbing the whole time. Another traveler, an older man with a long, grey-white beard and small, dark eyes, limps over to the fire and sits down before pulling off his boot. He grimaces, then pokes gingerly at a throbbing red sore near his ankle. A boy and a girl, perhap eight and ten, eye the remains of breakfast with stomachs rumbling.
Over the course of five minutes, the camp goes from a somewhat organized war camp to a scattered mess of traveling bags, shed jackets and shawls, and other dropped and forgotten supplies. The young mother finishes feeding her baby and turns to Laliytsa and Graelem. ”What are you going to do about Sir Walhem? He’s still out there, and he probably needs your help.”
Another traveler laughs humorlessly. ”He said to push on if he wasn’t back. He’s not coming back, Hanna.”
She glares back, then looks back to Lali and Graelem, blinking back tears and putting her hands on her hips. ”Well?”
”Alright, men.” Kesten begins to address his troops, before he’s interrupted by a cough and a pointed look from Mirjam. ”And women. Everyone is on duty until we’re sure these riders have missed us. Keep an eye on the hills, but stay close to the camp; it doesn’t do anyone any good if you get caught out.’” He pauses as his guards assemble their gear and move to positions near the edge of camp.
Once he’s satisfied, he looks over toward the kobolds, who are currently eyeing the travers’ discarded baggage longingly, then at some of the travelers glaring back at the lizards suspiciously. ”Kazimir, you’re going to want to get those lizards out of here. I’d pair them up in groups of two and put them on top of the hills nearby. Tell them just to watch and report back if they see riders. Or if you’ve got another idea, that’d work too. Just get them out of the camp for a while.”
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Graelem gives the woman Hanna a brief smile, averting his gaze in respect at the nursing. "I promised Walhem I would get the lot of you to safety and from the looks of things..." he waves his arms around the camp surroundings, "this is as close as we will get, Miss Hanna. Now I know Walhem can handle himself alone, but with those bandits out there I do need to find him." He finishes resolutely.
Turning his attention to the soldier in charge of the camp, he inclines his head in respect before speaking up with a note of urgency. "Sir Kesten, I did leave my companion Sir Walhem behind in order to get these people to safety. I am duty-bound to return and aid him. Should you be able to spare a tracker and any other bodies to assist me here, I would be in your debt." Seeing the kobolds lingering around the camp causes him to raise his arm as an idea strikes him. "Perhaps these kobold...warriors can travel with me?"
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Kazimir nods slowly at Nah's explanation, unconsciously fiddling with the straps of his cuisses. "Well, how do you know there aren't any pink dragons out there?" he asks. "From what I've heard, dragons come in many colours, so perhaps you're just different from the other Sootscales, but just as much a kobold as the rest of them."
Before he has time to say anything else, the camp's turned into a commotion of movement and voices, including that of a heavily-armoured young man making demands and orders of the camp. Pulling himself to his feet, he nods to Kesten, before cupping his hands around his mouth and calling out to the kobolds. he calls, gesturing for the kobolds to follow him to the hills in question. Before leaving, he turns to Luthor, adding in a quieter tone, "You look like you could use the walk. Care to help me pair them off?"
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Apparently ready to prove useful, Boo emits a small but excited-sounding whistle and waves some of his legs around in excitement as he continues to cling to Nah's shoulder.
Laliytsa eyes Graelem suspiciously. He looks legitimate, what with the non-combatants, but the reoccurring theme of the Stolen Lands is that nothing is as it seems. She straps all her gear on and walks over to him, casually resting her hand on the handle of her axe. "I'mma tracker. Where bouts did yer friend go?"
Graelem nods as Laliytsa as she introduces herself. "A pleasure to meet you." He takes her hand in a gesture of friendship, hoping to put the woman at ease. "I can take you to the last spot before we got separated. Are you ready to leave now?" He asks anxiously.
As the people entered the camp, proving to not be an immediate threat, Luthor had a moment of relief, before realizing the state of the poor people who had just arrived. Quickly gathering up some food, he busied himself with handing it out, pausing to lay a healing hand on those who either had injuries or looked so exhausted that the magic might soothe them. The nursing woman gave him pause, and as he continued to make the rounds, it was obvious he averted his gaze from her at every opportunity. "You know, I knew people do this, but ive never actually seen it." He muttered to Rikka. Looking at Lali and Kaz, he was not surprised to see the two of them seemingly completely unfazed by it.
Straightening back up after handing a loaf of bread to one of the men, he nodded at Kazimirs question. "Sure, ill come, I think Kesten and the others got this under control."
The travelers and guards look on as the party mounts up and heads out of the camp, worried expressions on their faces. Kesten ducks into his tent and emerges after a moment, finishing up strapping a bastard sword to his back and fastening his armor’s gauntlets. He offers a wave, and then the party leaves, heading into the hills of the Kamelands. It’s not long before Graelem and Laliytsa depart toward the south, leaving the others to head for the high hills overlooking the camp.
= = = = = = = = = = Kazimir, Luthor, and Nah = = = = = = = = =
One by one (or, rather, two by two), Kazimir and Luthor place their teams of kobolds on top of three hills overlooking the southeast side of the camp. The first, toward the west, features a small stand of scrub oaks pressed against the southwest face, which the kobolds wriggle and shove into before waving. The second rises sharply off the north side of a small creek with a myriad of game trails running along its sides. The kobolds find a pile of flagstones and set about making a little blind to hide behind.
The final hill sits to the south of the little creek, and it’s really barely a bump, hardly worthy of mention compared to the bigger, taller hills to the north. However, the two kobolds, Nakpik and Makroo, seem convinced that the game trails are the easiest way to the camp, and the exhausted travelers. The two, however, quickly look at Nah and then begin squealing at her in Draconic at each other.
”You and Nah stay here.”
”Nuh uh, I stay with her last time. You do this time!”
The two kobolds start glaring at each other, occasionally looking at Nah or or the two humans and screaming at each other.
= = = = = = = = = = Graelem and Laliytsa = = = = = = = = =
For their part, Laliytsa and Graelem follow the travelers’ paths back down their path, back two hours or more by horse. Their path takes them west, through the hills and into a small copse of trees in a somewhat-wide valley. As they push into the copse, following the heavy tracks of a large horse in the dirt, the air begins to fill with the sounds of buzzing flies and ripping flesh. Up ahead, perched over the carcass of a horse, stands a large, serpentine dragon.
Boo slowly rises into the air just a few inches off Nah's shoulder, wobbling slightly but otherwise holding a steady position. He emits a shrill whistle and begins to circle his companion as if saying, "She's right, I'm her eyes in the air!"
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"Is it odd that I find the clever one somehow more adorable?" Luthor half whispered to Kazimir, poking an elbow in his side.
Realizing the people pursuing the new arrivals might take some time to show themselves, he settled in, sitting down and wrapping himself in his cloak.
Tilting his head with a curious, bemused look, he scooted closer to Nah, eying "Boo" with obvious interest. "Thats pretty neat!" He said with a laugh, reaching a finger towards it. "Forgive me, but I have a hard time seeing how a Kobold came by the knowledge to build such a thing." He poked Boo a couple of times, causing him to wobble slightly. "It must be an interesting story, if you would tell it?"
"They're like children," Kaz mutters to Luthor. "Children scared of someone different." Whistling to draw the attention of all three kobolds, he draws himself to his full height, trying to look leader-ish.
"Nah, tell them that they'll be watching together. You'll be coming with us." As he looks around for another place to keep watch from, he listens to Nah's story, nodding along slowly.
"Well, Boo's certainly an interesting..." He freezes, unsure of what the contraption actually is, before weakly finishing "thing?"