Isitel strains her eyes to follow the tiny dragons.
Hand on his sword hilt, Hassan scans the beach in the direction the creatures flew off to.
If you don't want to keep working on the boat that is fine Walt. It was just a suggestion. Ben replies to his brothers snarky comment. Tell Gwenydd I went to befriend some halfling sized dragons. I don't expect to be gone long.
Ben follows the elves as they follow the psuedodragons.
After talking with Vallen, Gaross goes looking for Edmund Thayer. Finding him on the beach training. Gaross sits on a hillock nearby and waits until Edmund takes a break before aproaching the human.
Master Thayer. My name is Gaross Stonejaw-slagsun I am an engineer and a stonemason. You seem like a man that could use my services.
Edmund steps away from a sparring session, catching his breath and wiping sweat off his brow. He looks at Gaross and nods.
"We certainly can find a use for a dwarf of your talents," he says. "You know we've been building defenses for the camp. Since we've heard the story told by the survivors of the Harpy, it seems more important than ever. I had been planning on a simple wooden palisade, but perhaps with your knowledge and experience, we could make something more substantial."
Walt nods to his brother with a smirk and returns to the business of fiddling with the boat's rigging.
"Halfling sized dragons, eh?" he says. "I hope the rest of the predators around here are shrunken."
Kal'Tos loses sight of the flying dragons as they cut sharply into the next inlet down from Newspring, out of sight beyond the trees. Sorala and Manari shake their heads, having lost sight a few moments before, and Hassan and Istiel are intently tracking what they realize a moment later was a small flight of ducks.
Hassan's brow is furrowed in frustration as he looks at the others, "So is that it then? They've given us the slip? I'm not particularly keen to go tramping through the trees on the hopes we stumble into the creatures."
"it looks like they headed towards the next inlet, I think we should head in that direction but given how fast they move we may not catch up."
Istiel sighs lightly as she watches a flock of sea ducks land in the bay, shaking her head. The woman nods thankfully at Kal'tos.
"Let us go up the inlet and make our intentions known. We've come this far already." She motions towards the stream, making her way towards it unless Manari stops her- she will leave behind anyone else.
When she reaches the inlet, the elf looks down the waterway. "I see no reason for subtlety. Wait a moment." The elf gives Manari her shortbow, arrows, and longsword before separating herself from the group, moving up the inlet 100 yards.
With a flourish, she unfurls the meat from its cloth, shouting as loudly as possible in Draconic. "ມັງກອນພຽງເລັກນ້ອຍ!ພວກເຮົາຕ້ອງການໃຫ້ທ່ານສ້າງຄວາມເສຍຫາຍແລະເອົາມາໃຫ້ທ່ານຊີ້ນ! ກະລຸນາ,ມັງກອນພຽງເລັກນ້ອຍ ພວກເຮົາຕ້ອງການທີ່ຈະຮູ້ວ່າທ່ານ!"
She carefully lays the meat on the ground with the cloth, so if nothing happens it may be recovered. Walking 5 yards from the tribute she sits down in plain sight, legs folded beneath her, patient and still.
I will give it some thought and present you with some options tomorrow evening if you like. Gaross replies. If Edmund answers in the afirmative Gaross stumps off and spends the rest of the day drawing out various options for the design of the fortifications in the sand before going back to Vallen and asking for his help acquiring the means to make more permanant plans to present to the Thayers.
Hassan follows the elven woman to the inlet. He looks like he is about to object as she asks them to wait behind but with a flick of his eyes between her and Manari he thinks better of it and simply stands with the others, watching Istiel make her offering.
Manari holds her weapons as Istiel advances and spreads the meat out and calls out to the dragons.
Thayer contemplates Gaross for a moment and then gives him a low bow.
"I know we must all work together to thrive here, but if you can aid us in the construction of the wall, I will consider myself personally in your debt."
Gaross finds Vallen hard at work on his statuette. He doesn't notice the other dwarf until Gaross is right next to him, blocking the sunlight. "Oh! Gaross, hello, hello... What can I help you with?"
He listens to the mason's intentions to assist Edmund in constructing a wall. The priest idly plays with his rings, thinking. "How about this.. tomorrow, I'm going to start working on putting together a forge. I'll let you have some of my parchment and ink, and we can put our heads together on a plan, if you help me rough out the area where the forge is going tomorrow."
Taking a brief break from his carving, Vallen assists Gaross in drawing up some plans.
Ben shakes his head as Istiel shouts after the little dragons like she is challenging them to combat.
That isn't going to get a little creature like that to come to you. he says as he come up behind her. Are we sure we can't track them any further?
The scarred bodyguard has to agree with the halfling, "I know the ways of dragons are unusual but I find it hard to believe they would find that tone inviting."
Six of the little creatures swoop out of the trees and face you, wings spread and shriek.
Istiel, you hear a babble of incomprehensible gibberish in your head, and then the little creatures fly off, deeper into the forest.
"ລໍຖ້າ, ກັບຄືນມາ, ພວກເຮົາຫມາຍຄວາມວ່າອັນຕະລາຍທີ່ບໍ່ມີ!" Manari calls after them...
...but they do not stop.
Sorala winces as the elven woman jumps up and down, screaming unintelligibly, waving her arms and pointing at the food. Remind me not to invite this woman to toast my next wedding.
Sorala steps forwards and, putting her hand on Istiel's shoulder to calm her, and speaking in soothing sounds tries to convey to the little dragons that they should come sup on the meat the elf has provided them.
"Perhaps we should bring them food tomorrow and try this again?"
As Sorala steps forward to gesticulate at them, they hardly spare a glance.
Istiel winces as the babble fills her head, frowning. She has communicated telepathically before- a few of the mages she once guarded prefer it so they didn't have to open their doors. Istiel was not prepared for the communication, however, and shudders.
She sighs and composes herself as the pseudodragons fly away, glancing to her sides as everyone tries to get them to return. The elf clicks her tongue, at the fleeing creatures, shaking her head. "How rude... I was speaking pleasantly, as was Manari."
The elf collects her weapons from Manari, attaching her sword belt as she regards Sorala. "Yes, let us try again tomorrow. They could be powerful allies."
Tossing her bow over her shoulder, Istiel collects the meat carefully. "Manari, if we attempt this again tomorrow, will you present the meat? They do not like me much... Also, they spoke words inside my mind. It was a strange, incomprehensible dialect of Draconic."
Hassan simply sighs as the magic of the elves fails to impress, "I'm not surprised it's a different dialect. We are a long ways from home. Very well, let be swift in our return to Newspring. At the least they don't seem hostile, just insulted. I'll leave this task to you come the dawn."
Hassan sticks with the others as they all return to the camp. He bids the others farewell and quickly checks with his peacekeepers that nothing has developed in his absence. He instructs each of them to spread the word about the psuedodragons, informing the people to give them a wide birth and report any further sightings of them to one of the men on watch.
Later he makes the short walk to the beach to stare quietly into the bay where the Lillend no longer rests.
Talking with the psuedodragons having failed for now Ben walks back to Newspring and spends the rest of the afternoon with his family. He apologizes to Sira explaining that the little dragons didn't want to come visit today but hopefully they will come visit another day. That evening he gathers his little clan and goes to the meeting that was planned. The alter built by the fat half-orc sets Ben on alert. He doesn't like the look of it.
Manari seems unsurprised by Istiel's information, but she agrees. "They are shy creatures, and in our excitement, we were, perhaps, overeager. I agree, we should continue to attempt to befriend them, though whether we will see them again soon, I cannot say. It is to be expected that their language will be different than the dragons we know."
Ben's assessment of Ingwe does little to settle his concern, but offers no insight into the big half-orc's plans.
Dusk settles, the camp abuzz with the news of dragons. One or two otherwise solid men are seen breaking down with fear, only to be reassured that the creatures are small enough to be confused with ducks.
As daylight wanes, Vallen finishes putting the final polish on his statuette of Garrak. His rough but sensitive fingers run over every grain and detail of the figure, seeking out imperfections. Satisfied, the dwarf flips the statue over, delicately carving his signature in dwarven runes on the bottom corner of the base.
Blowing the dust away, he smiles widely, feeling the euphoria rush through him. It had been time a long time since he had been able to carve anything, and the fulfillment was akin to a divine experience.
Eagerly jumping up, he rushes off back to his camp to show Jarla, who is likely preparing for the meeting. He learns of the pseudodragon sighting, and while curious, pays it little mind. After washing the dust off of himself he stows the statuette in his chest for now, intent on giving it to Sorala after the meeting.
Arriving at the meeting, the dwarf nervously fiddles with the rings at the end of his beard. He wonders if he'll have to talk again... Sighing, he bows his head, whispering a quick prayer to Grundinnar. "Grundinnar, Son of Torag, instill this gathering with your wisdom and insight, let us speak as friends and neighbors towards common goals."
With dusk encroaching, Gair sees to the creation of a large bonfire in a suitably sized open space. He hopes that the roaring flames will banish the fast encroaching darkness and make people feel more at ease and give them a sense of power over the wilderness. A trick his father had taught the both of them years past.
As the settlers begin to gather, he meets with Ingwe briefly to collect the talking stick the shaman has crafted for the last meeting. Once he is certain all those who are coming have arrived, he climbs atop a large block of wood. Raising the stick high above his head he calls for silence in a loud voice, wishing he had more cause to practice the booming resonance his brother used at such meetings.
"I am encouraged to see so many of you here. Tonight marks the beginning of our truly independent survival. The Lillend has begun it's long trek back across the waters and we can now look to no one else to ensure our survival. But take heart, none of us are alone here. Just yesterday we welcomed many more to the newborn settlement of Newspring. If we all work together in the coming days we will thrive here!"
He gives it a moment before continuing, "I come before you foremost to speak of our most basic needs. Our new arrivals bring many new hands to lend to all that we do but they also bring stomachs that must be filled. They brought with them a bounty salvaged from the Harpy it is true but I have looked at those supplies and if we do not provide for ourselves, those stores will run dry in little more than a week. We have a number of foragers already working to shore up the supplies but it is too few I am afraid. We need more hands drawn from our new arrivals or from the original Lillend's landing. Our other projects are of great importance but if we begin to go hungry all will suffer. I urge those of you capable to meet with those managing the teams and join your hands to the cause."
Taking a deep breath, Gair around, "These are my words, many others will speak here tonight. There are dangers and opportunities everywhere on these strange shores and we have much to consider in our handling of each of them. I believe our own Kal'Tos has ideas to share on that subject later on."
Stepping down from the block he holds out the talking stick for the next person to take it and say their piece.
Vallen sucks in his breath. He should say something. Torag would expect him to be a bastion of order, faith, and community. He extends his hand, taking the stick from Gair.
Standing up, the dwarf starts to speak, but his speech cracks and his usually deep resonant voice comes more akin to someone stepping on a rat. Startled and embarrassed, he fumbles over his carefully planned words.
"Ahem... Gair is corr-right, the food situation is um... that is to say... not good." Then the studdering begins. "In essence, w-we, hm.. yes.. The Lillend leaving s-should serve as a w-w-warning.... ahem..." At this point, the dwarf bites his tongue, and desperately holds out the stick to Cueta, who is not far away.
He plops on the ground, face beet red, obsessively running his fingers over his rings. No more talking tonight....
Ben waits for his turn and then takes the stick and spends a moment examining the vine wrapped stick. Your leaves are drying out. he says to Ingwe. This isn't going to give me a rash is it? Oh well. He waves the stick in the air a little then turns to the group raising his voice so most can hear him. I am going to keep it simple. I want one of the boats. . . . My brother is a sailor and a fisherman, but you can't catch much from the beach. I am confident that he can provide this community with a steady supply of fresh fish if he had one of the boats. I know there are things that the community needs the boats for. Going and collecting the rest of the supplies salvaged from the Harpy is one that comes to mind, but aside from Cueta my brother is the only one I know capable of steering the boats to the cache and back. So using the boat to help the community isn't an issue. My people are smaller than most of you but we have done a lot to help this community succeed. We want to do more. We want to do what we can to make sure everyone has food to eat and stores to see us through the winter. I am asking you to give us the tools to make that possible. That is all I have to say. Ben passes the stick to the next to speak and goes back to his family.
Well I tried. He says to Walton. If they don't give you the boat I will just ask again the next time we have one of these little meetings, and the next and the next until they either help us build one or give you one.
Cueta takes the talking stick from Vallen, puts her hand on his shoulder and turns to the crowd. "The good priest is nervous tonight, but he obviously need not be so. We've all seen the good works he has done - tending to the sick and wounded, administering to our loved ones lost, and helping to build our future homes. Truly, he may be the most amazing of many amazing people that I have met. And he, and Gair, are correct. The most important thing in any society is a full belly. One cannot build or fight without it. I agree that we need to throw more effort into foraging, hunting and fishing before we our farms are up and running."
"There are, of course, other concerns that we must think of as well. We need protection. I am pleased to see that Gair raised a militia to keep watch over us, and we have many strong warriors here at camp. By now, I'm sure everyone has heard the tales of the Harpy's survivors and the horror that they had to endure. There is danger nearby. These shark-teethed predators see us no different than an deer or a crow or a carrot! However, myself, Kal'Tos and Ben have killed one of these things, and the Harpy's people have killed many more. They can get stuck, bleed, and die no different than any other creature. They need to learn that we are creatures to be feared!
And I have an idea of how to do this. We'll need the boats and strong arms, and those that are comfortable enough fighting. There are supplies at the cave where we found the Harpy's people - we should take the boats up the coast and gather all the supplies that we can and lay a trap for these sharkteethed bastards, as we know they are drawn to fire like moths to flame." Cueta looks towards Gair. "There are those among us who can lay an ambush, I can assure you that! Then we can decide how we wish to handle them, once we have information gathered on their location, forces and habits.
I won't lie to you. There may come a time when we need everyone to lay down their tools and pick up a weapon. We may need to go to war! But, if it can be helped, we will resolve this problem in quieter way, the way a puma or highwayman works - from the shadows and on our terms. And I give you my word, if you are a farmer, or a cook, or a carpenter, we will not ask you to pick up arms unless there is no better option."
Cueta tries to think of something stirring to end her speech with, can't, and instead clears her throat and looks for the next person wishing to hold the speaking stick.
Cueta stands and faces Ben, grimacing a little as he confronts Ingwe. "I have no issue with Walton needing a boat. If he can catch fish and help feed the people of Newspring, it seems a fair trade to me."
I'll need to talk to Ben about the faiths of the south.
Sorala stands and puts her hand out for the stick.
"Forgive me, I am not good with words. It seems to me that - of course - food and security are important, but we need more to be a community. We need, for lack of a better word - history. We need people to take an accounting for our time here, we need a census of our people and skills, and we need records - of births, of supplies, of - sadly - deaths. I'd be happy to take on this work on behalf of the people of Newspring."
"I'll leave the decisions regarding other things to others with different skills sets, but I know that an uneducated and ill-informed community is a weak one."
Gathering himself, Hassan takes a moment to add his voice to the others, "I think it would be hard for any of us to lay sole claim to the two boats currently in our possession. There are dozens of survivors from the Harpy among us now who would all have equal claim as well as those few of us who risked themselves to mount a rescue. I suggest we treat the boats as belonging to Newspring itself. Such that they can be appropriated by who we decide can make the best use of them at any given time. At the moment that sounds to me like the young Ceuta's expedition is most pressing now but afterwards. If the halflings know how to ply the waters and fish the bay I can think of no better use for one of the boats after that. Though that may well change again in future."
The keleshite man rubs at the scar on his cheek before continuing, "As to this expedition, there is no question that you will need strong able bodies to stand against these creatures but as organizer of our own defenses, I must remind you that we are in similar danger here. This cave you mention is not so far from Newspring itself. I must demand that a goodly number of our warriors remain here to stand in it's defense when you set out. So long as these concerns are met, I wish you a safe journey and a strong winds to carry you."
Stepping down he hands off the stick to the next speaker.
Gair feels the need to speak to Sorala but does so quietly so his words do not carry to others. "You are welcome to do as you wish but in my homeland we keep accounting of our neighbors through the memories we share with them, and..."
The kellid puts a hand over his heart, "...an accounting of those we have lost here. It serves us well enough.", his tone is free of anger, simply making a defense for his people's way of life.
He lends his voice to Ceuta's plan, "This plan is sound. The supplies she speaks of will be immeasurably helpful and we must take measure of our new rivals lest they be allowed to raid us freely. I for one will go with this salvage party."
The dwarf looks up at Cueta with his red face, giving her an appreciative nod. Her words have soothed his embarrassment and anxiety, but he will not be speaking again tonight out of shame.
Listening to the others speak, he approves of their respective plans, sitting quietly.
Istiel sits perfectly still next to Manari, hands folded in her lap. The elf listens to the others speak of their prospective plans for Newspring and its resources, but hears nothing of real interest. Patiently, she waits for Manari to speak for the elves, and will lend weight to her words if needed.
Kal'Tos takes the talking stick next as he steps into the firelight.
"Many good ideas have been put forth so far, but I will speak on a different subject. That of leadership, unfortunately all those who were appointed leaders of this expedition have not made it to Newspring. Some may still be alive but none of them are here. So far we have been blessed with not having a situation that required a clear leadership, but alas we cannot rely on our luck holding. It is for this reason that I suggest that we create a council that can collectively run Newspring for the good of all. I believe that a council of 11 should be sufficient to allow for a variety of opinions to still be heard and prevent one person from leading us astray. It would also allow for several members to be absent from a meeting and still be able to function effectively.
I will make recommendations for 3 people on such a council and leave it to other to make further suggestions.
Firstly, Hassan, he has stepped forward and taken on a key roll in our community, that of protecting us. His voice will be a strong and necessary one in the days ahead.
Second would be Manari, in a very difficult situation she kept a cool head and saved many lives.
Third is Ben Sandlock, from the moment we set foot in these new lands he has tirelessly worked to improve our situation. He was one of the first to join our scouting party and insisted that we go in search of survivors of the Harpy, leaving his family behind to help others. He has fearlessly charged savages bent on eating us and killed ants that could swallow him whole. He truly should inspire all of us to strive for more."
Diplomacy
Kal'Tos holds up the stick for the next person who wishes to speak.
Gair feels the need to speak to Sorala but does so quietly so his words do not carry to others. "You are welcome to do as you wish but in my homeland we keep accounting of our neighbors through the memories we share with them, and..."
The kellid puts a hand over his heart, "...an accounting of those we have lost here. It serves us well enough.", his tone is free of anger, simply making a defense for his people's way of life.
With the pain of the last few days and the confrontation with Gair and Vallen still fresh on her mind, Sorala blushes in anger and opens her mouth to speak, but then thinks better of it, keeping her thoughts to herself. Of course, your people are scattered to the wind and your lands encroached upon every year.
She takes a deep breath and closing her eyes, centers herself. "I'm sorry if I offended you, Gair - it was certainly not my intent. I have to ask, though, what happens if your people are killed and your lands are taken? What happens to those you keep in your hearts then? Where do the go?"
"I'd like to invite you to visit me sometime, and let me write down the stories you have of your father, and his father, and on as you can remember. And your food, and your memories as a boy, and your hunts and anything else you can think of. We may all be dead soon, killed by dragons or cannibals or skin-stealers or gods know what else lurks out there. But I can at least bury our stories in the sand. It would be best for someone, some day, to read of your people, if the worst happens."
Cueta stands and waives off the speaking stick.
"If we are going to choose leaders, a representative council would be best. One that will nurture and foster our people, and allow them to follow the paths that they are meant to. I believe there are those among us who would do just that. "
"I've spent time with Kal'Tos in the wild. He risked his life to guide a group of the Harpy's survivors back here, knowing that the shark-teethed bastards could catch them. He has bravery this community needs, and powerful magic to help."
"I've already spoken of the kindness of Vallen. I think there is no need to say anything further - he is wise and his council and guidance would be a boon to our community."
"Another wise one is Gair, the northman, who has also put his life at risk for us, scouting the lands around here. He personally has helped me though there was no reason for him to, other than his kind nature - I know that he will do what is right for us and by us."
"Kal'Tos's nominations are good ones, I feel."
"I'll nominate the Thayers for seats on the council. They've accomplished much in the week we've been here, and Sandra has shown great ability to raise the spirits of those around her. Her compassion and empathy are values needed by leaders."
Vallen raises a bushy eyebrow as he is nominated something.He doesn't exactly want to talk again, but he is fearful of being elected for a position he would have to do more talking at. He looks around, taking the speaking stick, clearing his throat. "You are kind, Cueta, but if this council is formed, my sister Jarla would better represent us as a whole. I am but a craftsdwarf and a dwarf of the cloth, Jarla has years of leadership experience and business expertise." The man passes on the speaking stick, wondering what is going to happen.
Gair regards Sorala quietly for a time, considering his response. When it does some his words are sure, "We place faith in the strength of those we choose to lead us that they will ensure our people will carry on. The Red Wolves have endured the desolation of the Worldwound with our stories intact, we will weather that which the future brings as well."
His resolve seems to falter somewhat after this. What of those who did not survive the breaking of our lands. A great many followings were lost entire. Strong followings boasting many proud warriors. Still...
"...Still, your offer is very kind. History is a sacred thing and there are here only Bern and myself who follow our ways. Too easily we might parish with none to observe the rites and offer a proper accounting of our journey here...I...may take you up on that offer one day Sorala."
Vallen raises a bushy eyebrow as he is nominated something.He doesn't exactly want to talk again, but he is fearful of being elected for a position he would have to do more talking at. He looks around, taking the speaking stick, clearing his throat. "You are kind, Cueta, but if this council is formed, my sister Jarla would better represent us as a whole. I am but a craftsdwarf and a dwarf of the cloth, Jarla has years of leadership experience and business expertise." The man passes on the speaking stick, wondering what is going to happen.
Not wanting to embarrass Vallen any further, Cueta turns to the priest and says in a whisper, "There is more to leadership that pretty talk, believe me. I've seen plenty of silver-tongued noblemen that would send their own children to hell for a step up Chelish society. You have all the qualities of a great leader, and speaking is a skill that can be worked on. I beseech you to reconsider."
Sorala frowns a bit and then reaches out and comfortingly grabs Gair's shoulder. Perhaps I've been to harsh on the Kellid. When he and the dwarf confronted me, they were only doing what they could to help those of us still here. Garrack was gone and a killer was on the loose, and Gair's obviously worried about his boy.
"I know that you and I will never forget our loved ones, but there are others who should know of their stories, and being lost to time seems to me a worse thing than death itself. Like the storytellers of your people, I record things for the future, so that our children and theirs will not forget. But instead of memory I use paper. It is not so different really. I do hope that you take me up on my offer."
Hassan, I understand what you are saying about the boats belonging to the entire community but that won't work. Ben says when he gets a chance to speak again. You wouldn't want a smith to have to ask someone's permission everytime he needed to use his forge, or a farmer to have to ask for permission to work in his feild. My brother can't be expected to successfully provide a supply of fish if he has to ask permission everytime he wants to go fishing. He needs control of the boat. He needs to be able to be confident that it is in good repair, and that all the tools he needs will be there when he needs them. Just use of a boat isn't enough. Not when he risks his life everytime he goes out on the water. . . .I can understand the reluctance to surrender such a valuable resource to the control of just one person. Everyone maybe more comfortable if it were only temporary. Just until he can get a boat of his own built perhaps?
The conversation wanders back and forth, as different subjects are discussed, and the people of Newspring listen. Some are intent, some minds wander.
When Manari is given the stick, she looks around and shakes her head.
"First, let me say that I agree with most of what has been suggested so far. We obviously need food, I agree that it would be wise to keep records. There are dozens of men, women and children from the Harpy who died and could not be laid to rest. If nothing else can be done, I believe we should at least have a written testament to their existence. I agree to the need for a council, and I humbly accept your request that I serve on such a council."
"These boats that are a precious resource for us all," she says to Ben. "I understand that food is a major concern for all of us, and that fishing could help us meet that need. I question the right of any one individual to simply claim that resource for their exclusive use. Would you perhaps concede that the boats might be used as common property, to be used as the council determines best benefits us all. I believe that we will all agree that letting your brother use it to fish will usually be the best use it can be put to, but I do not see the need to make the boat his property."
Walton seems uncomfortable to be the subject of so much debate.
Edmund Thayer is the next to speak.
"This morning, Gaross Stonejaw spoke to me of a plan to strengthen the defenses we are building. I'm sure we can all see the advantage of a dwarven engineer taking the lead on this project, so I'd like to encourage anyone who isn't working elsewhere to lend a hand to our efforts."
"Also, my sister and I would like to offer our tent for the use of the council during the day."
Sandra takes the stick when her brother finishes. She smiles warmly and stands so the firelight catches her just right.
"I think the most important decision that needs to be made here tonight regards our leaders," she says. "We are all different, and have different dreams, but we are all agreed that we'd like to survive. I fully support the need for a council, and I am happy to participate in any such organization. I support all the names that have been put forward for the council thus far, with one exception. Hassan Antar."
"Please do not take offense," she says, turning to Hassan. "But if you are to be our leader in times of crises, I think it is a conflict to have you on the council. First, because when your authority as ... general? is needed, it must be absolute, and to have you on the council could confuse that authority. Second, because as the leader of our defenses, I would prefer to see you attending to those duties rather than wasting your time on the business of the council. If you wish, I would happily step down as well."
From the noise of the people listening, it seems that most are persuaded by her.
At that point, one of the wounded men from the Harpy steps forward. He has a slight limp still, as the flesh is knitting from a horrible bite on his leg. Those of you who have taken time to get to know the survivors will recognize him as Jaysin, a powerfully built Vudrani who ran a tavern on the docks in Absalom until it was burned down a few months before the fleet set sail.
"So if we only have one boat to search for the biters, we'll need to decide who's on it. These," he points to Kal'Tos, Cueta and Ben, "have proved themselves against them already. As has Manari. That leaves six spots in the boat. Give me one, and you won't regret it."
"I'd like to go as well," Edmund Thayer says. "But if half of our council is leaving to fight, I, for one, give those who stay behind my support in whatever decisions they make in our absence."
Bern Hearthseeker looks at his father, hopefully, and Kyle is on his feet, ready to leave immediately.
Looking a little apprehensive at being singled out, Hassan moves to stand next to Sandra, "I take no offense ma'am. Truth be told your words are something of a relief."
Raising his voice to carry properly he continues, "While I am honored by the trust you all continue to place in my abilities, Sandra's words are wise. If I am to ensure the safety of Newspring to the best of my abilities I do not believe I will have the time to devote proper attention to a spot such a council. I thank you Kal'Tos for the nomination but I am afraid I must decline in order to see to my other duties."
He turns his attention back to Sandra, "Unless you too plan on taking other duties I see no reason for you to surrender your spot Sandra. Thus far you have displayed exactly the kind of wisdom our council needs."
Finished, Hassan returns to his place among the others.
Vallen's head swings back and forth at all the talk, forcing himself to cross his arms about his chest so he doesn't rub the inscriptions off of his rings. He is impressed by the oratory skill of all those present, further cementing in his mind that he is not ready for such a position. The dwarf shakes his head at Cueta, whispering. "Again, your words are kind, but I do not feel myself suited for a leadership role. However... perhaps... hmm... I wouldn't mind being a chair of some sort, a neutral and impartial party that assists in conducting meetings and serves as a tie breaker... If and or when this council is formed, I will bring it up."
Vallen also steps forward at the mention of the expedition to recover the lost supplies and seek out the shark-teeth. "I volunteer! I suspect this journey will need the blessings of Torag and sound knowledge to return everyone's belongings safely." He glances at Jaysin's leg, making a mental note to find the man after the meeting and offer him healing for his bravery. The dwarf has not made any doctoring rounds since the new arrivals came.