Zoriya smiles at Sorala, rising once more, though her expression clouds when she turns her eyes to Gair. She takes a moment to compose herself and carries on, addressing the council at large.
"Let me address your questions in turn. Firstly, you're prudent to ask how we will be worth your trouble--I'd ask the same. To begin with, Rina Sarap is a fine sailor who brought us here with a much less than ideal crew in a damaged vessel over harsh seas. Without her resourcefulness and skill we all would have been lost. Surely, you have no lack of need for capable hands on your boats."
She lays a delicate hand on Tomag's shoulder. "Tomag Born-At-Dawn is a warrior blessed of Sarenrae. In our captivity and escape he proved himself skilled, compassionate, and dauntless. He will defend you as tirelessly as he did us. I trust him at my back, which is no small thing, I assure you."
"Our other companions have braved much to find their new home. While their talents may not be in seafaring or combat they all have professions that will be of use in our survival."
"Myself..." Zoriya inclines her head modestly, then murmurs softly over the dancing of her free hand to summon small spinning lights around her fingers. "There is that."
She dismisses the lights with a flick of her wrist and looks up, confidence in every line of her body. "I am Zoriya Petrova, once of Irrisen. I am a scholar of the arcane and of alchemy. More valuable, I think, is my knowledge of how to run a household. Provisioning dozens in perpetual winter is no small task, and I would offer my talents as a steward to Newspring alongside my magic."
She pauses to let her speech sink in, carefully observing the council at large with an especial alertness towards the Kellid. That is one she'll have to see to later, away from the rest, assuming he doesn't lunge forth at once.
"As for the demon worshippers, that requires more explanation than mere numbers." Her mouth thins in anger before she schools herself back to calm, eyes closing briefly. When she opens them again she begins to tell their tale.
Zoriya starts at the storm that seperated them from the rest of the fleet and briefly covers the discovery of their barren island, the decision of her group to stay, and the beginning of their journey towards the bay. When she meticulously details the storm that wrecked them after they reached the coast the other colonists should recognize it as the same that sunk the Harpy.
Her account of the demon worshipping dwarves and kuru is clipped and factual. As she goes over their captivity she doesn't bother disguising the cold fury she feels when she names their sufferings and losses. She makes a point of saying the names of their dead in full.
Their escape and flight down the coast is something she skims over except to mention the pseudodragons--and her ability to understand them.
"We left less than a hundred dwarves behind us, but there are sure to be more. They seemed to want something, though I don't know what, and even were they willing to parlay with this larger force the word of a demon worshipper is worth less than the breath it's spoken with. Our only choice, should they find this place--and I believe they will--is to have them pay blood for blood."
Her hands have, at some point, come to her side in fists, and her eyes flash with grim determination. "I will not suffer them to live. Not for what they have done and what they would surely do to all of us given the chance. But this is not a battle we should draw down upon ourselves without aid. I offer myself on the expedition to the hobgoblins. I have experience with dealing with such folk, although I do not know their tongue, and I will see that we return safely and swiftly."
Tomag listens attentively as Zoriya speaks, but when she lays a hand on his shoulder, he sits bolt upright, not quite used to being touched by other people. At her praise, he reddens slightly.
As she tells of their escape, the Sarenraen nods to emphasize some parts. However, when the woman begins to speak about intentions to wipe out the demon-worshiping dwarves, his ever-present smile fades. Crossing his arms, the half-orc clearly does not agree with her on this subject. He remains silent until she is finished, however.
Once she has offered to go and deal with the hobgoblins, Tomag says, "I will offer my services for this expedition, as well. Even if I cannot speak their language, there are times where words are not needed." He clenches a fist, his face still uncharacteristically grim, "And there are times when it is a blade that is required. In either of those cases, I can be of assistance."
When Zoriya mentions communicating with the pseduodragoons, her thin brows raise slightly, and she turns her head to Manari.
Vallen listens to Zoriya intently, crossing his arms over his golden, pleated beard. His growing discomfort is a mixture of sadness and anger as she describes the activities of his long-distant kin. "They are truly heretics... I doubt they can be reasoned with, but for the sake of my ancestors and Torag, I would first see if there are those among them that still feels the warmth of the Father of the Creation in their hearts. Of course, any attack on Newspring will not be tolerated and their warriors must be put down for fighting in accordance with such ideals- but the layfolk, they must know there is a different way. There must be those who still adhere to the old ways."
As the discussion turns back to the hobgoblins, Vallen looks at Sorala. "I do not wish to be the sole interpreter on this journey, Sorala. You have studied language far longer than I have. My schooling in goblin is meant for interrogation at the worst of times and threats at the best of times." He sighs. Torag, I long only to to carve your forge, but it seems I am needed elsewhere. To make friends with hobgoblins and bugbears... we are desperate indeed.
"I agree with Sorala, we do not want both our goblin speakers in one small group. If something happens it leaves us with no second chance.
The size of the dwarf heretic force worries me. If they mount a direct attack on Newspring it will be a bad situation. Even if we won, casualties would be heavy. Their existence makes it even more important that we have peaceful contact with the hobgoblins. Thus I recommend that a small party leaves to make contact with the hobgoblins, then examines the iron deposit that was found. If it can be easily worked by a few people we may be able to trade iron tools to the hobgoblins for food, or begin building weapons to train our foragers to defend themselves and better equip our guards.
The heretic dwarves may not show up tomorrow, or the next day, but eventually a confrontation is likely."
Sorala listens as Zoriya and Tomag speak, scribbling away, the faintest of grins crossing her face when Zoriya's magic show is put on. When Vallen speaks his wish on the journey north, Sorala sighs and looks to the dwarf, a look at once haggard, sad, and fearful. "Very well. I'll think about it and let you know in the morning. It could be good for me to get out and see this New World."
Turning to the new arrivals, Sorala addresses them each individually, praising their skills. She is most specific with the last three she addresses; Rina, Zoriya, and Tomag.
"Rina, while we have pulled everything out of this land around us, our meager fishing crew still has much luck in Lilland Bay. We have plenty of boats and not enough skilled men and woman to crew them. I'd suggest you put your skills to work in the Bay - either helping Sai and Walton fish, or by training some of our people to be proper fishermen."
"Zoriya, my late husband was a mage, and with his passing we lost much skill and knowledge, with only Manari to provide guidance for us. Your skills are rare and to be cherished by this community. Equally so, your organizational skills should be put to good use. The people here need much help. Most, like myself, have specific trades that within a larger, functional society would make us valuable. But lacking the basic necessities of life - food, clothing, shelter and safety - many of us are struggling to find a way. Getting our average people, myself included, on their feet, so to speak, would be a great boon to everyone."
"While we have a real shortage of mages, we are blessed to have an abundance of priests here. Kal'Tos, Vallen, Ingwe, Vallen's priest in training Septimus, even Sandra in her way, are all spiritual advisors to the people of Newspring. There's a Caleanite fellow running around here somewhere as well, I believe. Tomag, I have no doubt that you'll fit right into the fabric of Newspring and know that even though there are many spiritual advisors here, you will find many demands on your time."
"All of you, our newest residents, welcome to Newspring."
Sorala nods along as Kal'Tos speaks. "I agree that a small force should be gathered. Zoriya and Tomag have volunteered. It seems Vallen has put his beard into the ring as well. Who else should go?"
"If we are going to examine the iron deposits I should be there. I have experience with mining for the call of the divine came. Perhaps Bern should come with us, it may be good to have him away from Newspring for a few days, and I am sure if Bern comes his father will want to as well."
As the sun sets, Cueta heads to the marshy areas by Lillend Bay and listens. Sure enough, with darkness comes the croaking of bullfrogs. Good. We haven't completely stripped the land. Bullfrogs are tough to hunt but tasty! Slowly, javelin in hand, Cueta moves towards the nearest croak, until the sound stops. Stopping herself, standing motionless, Cueta waits until the croaking starts up again, and then as silently as possible, moves forward until again the croaking stops, and Cueta waits, and then again, eventually the bullfrog forgets Cueta and starts up once more. Close enough now, the Mwangi sees the frog's eyes in the brush, reflecting the cold spring night's light. As quickly as possible, Cueta coils and lashes out with the javelin, and this time the croaking stops for good.
On and on into the night this goes, Cueta dancing with the frogs.
Gair nods, "I still do not fully trust the intentions of these hobs. Bern and I will come to watch your backs. With these dwarves nearby, I would not commit any more of our strength to this task. Those who remain may be called upon to defend all that has been built here before we can return."
Edmund Thayer clears his throat. It is the first time the newcomers have heard him speak, and the unthinking haughtiness that he exudes is unmistakable, though quite familiar to the veterans.
"I would see these hobgoblins," he says. "I confess I am curious, and it may be wise for me to be away from here for a time. If Bern is to come, I welcome his strength, but it may seem to the Sandlocks that we have passed too easily over Ben's death. I would speak to them, but I think they would respond better to another representative of our council, to see if they object."
Sandra, his sister, steps in to smooth the rough edges as always.
"I will speak with the Sandlocks if nobody else is willing," she says. "I am hesitant to send all of our best fighters on this mission, however. We mean to establish an alliance, if possible, and too strong a show of force may provoke them. Also, we may need that strength of arms here, should the dwarves come."
Istiel will notice Manari studying Zoriya carefully as the Irrisean reveals that she was able to communicate with the pseudo-dragons.
"They are the only natives of this place that any of us can communicate with, so far," she says slowly, addressing Zoriya primarily. "It seems that they have a wide range, and they fly. They could be a valuable source of information, if you are able to cultivate your friendship with them. Our efforts so far have not been successful, but you seem to have breached the gap. If you are willing, I would ask you to develop that relationship."
Vallen listens to Edmund, stroking his beard and nodding his head. "You will be more than welcome in our party if you wish, Edmund, But Sandra has a point. A small group not bristling with pointing bits is more in line with a diplomatic mission. We want to appear strong, but not seem conquerors."
Gair listens to the others discuss, his face neutral. At Vallen's words he turns to the dwarf, "Yet we must still have the strength to resist them should they turn upon us. I hesitate to say all of our best warriors will be committed to meeting the hobs. Manari and Istiel are more than capable should you come under attack. I have heard no mention of Ceuta joining us. The jungle has sharpened that one's claws well."
His gaze drifts over to the keleshite standing nearby, "And we cannot discount Hassan and his guards. He wears the proof of their prowess."
Hassan inclines his head at he compliment. Pursing his lips he hesitates for a moment before stepping forward and addressing the council, "I know I have no authority here but I feel this issue is in my realm as well as yours. I believe we will have enough strong arms to deal with any trouble that arises in your absence but I would caution against both Thayer and young Hearthseeker going to meet the goblins. They remain the only two witnesses in Ben's death. I feel it may help sooth tempers if the two of them...avoid each other for the time being."
He turns his head to address Edmund directly, "I understand you feel you owe the boy a debt but there will be ample time to repay it in the future."
Gair glares at Newspring's general and seems on the verge of standing but thinks better of it. He turns to Edmund instead, looking annoyed "Very well. You sit on this council Edmund, if you meet these hobs, Bern will remain in Newspring and guard against the dwarves."
The substance of Bern's story remains more or less the same when he speaks to his father: he was coming off watch and heard something creeping through the bushes, he saw Edmund attacked and rushed in with his axe, killing Ben before he knew who it was. He has no idea why Ben attacked Edmund.
"If I had known it was him, I don't know what I would have done," he says, sighing. He looks at his father for a moment, and looks away before he explains. "I felt Ben was more one of us than Edmund. Not that I think that means he should have been allowed to kill Edmund, but maybe I could have stopped him without having to kill him. And now I think I've made the whole Sandlock family my enemies just by trying to save a man I don't particularly like."
========
"I think it best if neither Bern nor Edmund leave now," Manari says softly. "They can be useful here as defenders, should we come under attack, and if they are to mend their relations with the halflings, they will not do so by disappearing into the forest."
Gair puts a hand on his son's shoulder and turns him back to face him, "Should you have hesitated, Edmund may well be dead now. We all respected Ben but he made his choice. You did a warrior's duty son. If the Sandlock's cannot understand that it is their failing. I am proud of all I see you becoming, remember that. I seems I am likely to be leaving again come the morning. I do not know yet if you will be required here of with me."
He gives Bern's shoulder a squeeze before leaving him on the beach.
-----------------
Gair glances over as Manari speaks before looking around at the other council members, awaiting their input.
Zoriya stays demure as the council debates, nodding only to acknowledge when she's mentioned and briefly say to Manari, "The pseudodragons have already shown themselves friendly, it's well worth our time. I could teach their dialect to others in addition to translating, of course. As soon as we return."
The gentle-hearted dwarf will need to be watched more closely than the direct one. The elven woman is intelligent, so we must make an accord. The Thayer boy is the weakness in that family, but his sister indulges him. The record-keeper, Sorala. She will make this much easier. The others still need to be measured.
Zoriya isn't so foolish as to think that she knows these people well enough to judge them completely yet, but her brief impressions help her orient herself. It's clear to her that there is a certain hesitancy in command here--which has served them so far, this cooperativeness, and under the circumstances they do have time to debate. It's an interesting concept she's only heard of before, never seen in action.
She wonders what they do when action must be quickly taken. They'll see how far out into the wilds they take their council with them.
"Carrying our strength quietly on a diplomatic mission would be wisest," she finally says, nodding to Manari thoughtfully, "And I would feel more at ease knowing we left Newspring safely girded. And Edmund Thayer--in light of your recent injuries, perhaps it is best to stay here and show yourself undaunted. People rally to a commander who turns his face into the storm."
She smiles the young man's way, with a touch of quiet admiration in her eyes.
Vallen nods in agreement with Manari's statement. As he had already said- this is a diplomatic mission, and he hopes it stays that way. "Aye. If the hobs didn't attack on sight, they'll either rebuff our intentions or enter in some agreement, I'd say. We shouldn't have to fight."
The dwarf plays with the rings in his beard, fingers running over the cool metal. "Our group should consist of Gair, Kal'tos, Sorala, Zoriya, Tomag, and Myself. We do not want to risk appearing an invading party with more."
Sorala offers Vallen a small, tight smile. "I'm sorry, Vallen - I just don't see myself being much use on this mission. I'm barely on my feet right now, and outside of pedagogical lectures, I've never been particularly gifted with social situations. I can't fight and I can't forage or hunt, or get back here on my own if I get lost or separated. I'm afraid that on the balance, I would be hindering everyone more than helping. I'm better here making goods for the community."
"I think yourself, Gair, Kal'Tos, Zoriya and Tomag will do just fine."
Scribing the names of the diplomats into her papers, Sorala says, "Now, about the Sandlocks. They're an influential group here and we need to be careful of them." Casting her eyes towards Edmund, the half-elf continues. "There have been allegations of food hoarding. There's also the possibility of retribution towards Edmund. I think we can all agree that we don't want to see the Thayers and their people at war with the Sandlocks. How do we put Ben's death to bed, and how do we figure out if there is any truth to the rumors of hoarding?"
Tomag nods at Sorala's statement about the members of the group that will visit the hobgoblins, his grin returning. "I would very much like to be apart of any attempts to befriend the locals of this place. Making enemies is easy," he says, and there is a momentary flash of frustration in his eyes as he continues, "but making friends certainly is not. I will be ready to leave whenever it is needed."
"So it is settled then, we will depart at first light."
Gair nods, "Indeed. With luck we will be gone no more than three days. Provided it does not take us long to make contact with the hobs again."
Vallen sighs as Sorala excuses herself from the mission, already becoming anxious that the fate of dealing with the hobgoblins, perhaps the continued existence of Newspring, rests solely on his shoulders. The dwarf says nothing else about the matter, which is rather odd.
He does chip in about the Sandlock situation, however. "I fail to see why we continue to make an issue about this. While losing Ben is a tragedy, Edmund did nothing to cause the Sandlocks to plot any revenge. It is clear to me that Ben acted on his own violation and his punishment was dolled out by Bern, whether he realized it or not. If anything, Bern should be the one fearing small footsteps in the night, but I doubt he does, as he made the right decision- he protected an innocent. He was an instrument of justice, and the matter is done. The rumors of halfling hoarding need to be put to rest. We must begin to trust one another- if we continue to stick our poker in the fire, even steel will burn eventually."
Vallen takes a breath as he finishes, and realizes that he was standing. Clearing his throat sheepishly, the dwarf sits down, cross-legged. He absentmindedly touches his holy symbol that hangs at his beard. Grundinnar, when I speak to the hobgoblins, please posses me as you just did.
First Born-At-Dawn, now Silverclasp. I am plagued by tender fools. Zoriya pushes down her instinct to make a dry, cutting remark about how delightful it must be to believe anyone puts justice before vengeance. After all, apparently some folk do.
She does note that Vallen's problems with speaking may not be a lack of aptitude so much as a lack of confidence, which is something easier altogether to address.
"Well-said, Silverclasp. Brushing all the halflings with tar for the actions of one will help no one." Zoriya shows the palms of her hands to those assembled, voice even and reasonable. "In Irrisen, hoarding food is as severe a crime as murder. The accusation alone casts a pall on whole communities. In our circumstances it is much the same, even if people used to plenty may not know quite what to call it yet. One of the best ways to solve it is simple. We would offer them all the accused the choice of presenting us with the guilty parties, if there are any to be found, with the promise of forgiveness for all but the ringleaders."
"Only if no names are given does an investigation need to be carried out. If they are all innocent, they will be vindicated, Sandlock will be shown to be a rogue, and our people will see we take the matter seriously. If they are not, we punish them all equally for conspiracy. Either way, the matter will be settled and we will have demonstrated that the law is to be followed."
"As a matter of fact," Zoriya says, glancing around the gathering, "Is there law? A codified one, that is. One that is specific to our community, not the bits and pieces of our homelands' laws."
As Hassan makes the rounds of his guards, none of them report seeing anything unusual happening with the food supply, though several seem a bit surprised by his asking.
"Wasn't Hobie Grimm taking care of that?" Kyle asks, when Hassan comes to him.
===========
As Hassan makes the rounds of his guards, none of them report seeing anything unusual happening with the food supply, though several seem a bit surprised by his asking.
"Wasn't Hobie Grimm taking care of that?" Kyle asks, when Hassan comes to him.
===========
Sorala blushes a little, flipping through her census. Unfortunately, the pages quickly get out of order, fall from her lap, and in general become a mess. I really need to get a proper ledger.
"Well, we don't have any codified laws, really. We've just been dealing with situations as they come up. I'm not sure if any barristers or judges made survived the voyage. I can look through my census in greater detail later. It is something we should look into."
"Regarding the Sandlocks, I'm happy to ask them if anyone has been hoarding. I'd like Hassan or one of his guards with me though - I don't think I could withstand the cut that Edmund lived through."
Gathering her papers as she finishes, the half-elf surveys the gathering in the tent once more. "There is one more thing. Does anyone object to sending the foragers to the east tomorrow morning? Cueta provided me with a map. Perhaps I should give it to the head forager?"
Hassan blinks at Kyle's statement, "Hobie Grimm? One of the halflings correct? What exactly is he supposed to be taking care of?"
--------------
After talking to Kyle, Hassan heads to find the halfling Hobie Grimm. He avoids asking after Hobie directly with the other halflings and so it take a little longer to track the compact settler down but he eventually does so. Approaching at an easy pace he moves up to the halfling, "Grimm, yes? I understand you're the man to speak to concerning the food stores?"
Hobie nods to Hassan and looks up from the piece of sailcloth he is stitching to make a bigger tent. He says nothing for a few moments, until he can pull the needle that he's holding between his teeth.
"I guess I am," he says. "Last council meeting before Ben died, I was asked to get the halflings to organize the rationing. Then you were asking the guard to keep a close watch on the food. Since I'm one of the halflings and one of the guard, it made pretty good sense that I'd be the guy. Now, if anyone else wants the job of telling folk they have to go hungry when we're sitting on a pile of food, they're welcome to it."
========
Hassan shrugs, "I'm afraid the duty will remain with you Grimm. Know that we are all grateful for your service. Including those who gripe about the rations."
The keleshite pauses for a moment, "I should warn you, there is a rumor floating around that you and the others are hoarding food. For myself I generally chalk it up to the idle tongues of the hungry. I will do what I can to squash it. Just thought you should be aware."
Gair adds his support to the forager plan, "Yes. We need to get them bringing in more food quickly. These people know little of feeding themselves without their crops. Just make sure they know to stick close to each other."
"As well as avoid the coast. We know the dwarves move by sea." Zoriya imagines that she's not the first one to think this, but it still bears saying.
"In the course of your investigations, Sorala and Hassan, I advise considering unlikely possibilities as much as the straightforward ones. I would find out where the rumors began. It may be that someone is trying to shift your gaze from something else." She tilts her head ever so slightly, looking pensive. "Or someone simply doesn't care for those they've accused."
"As for laws, there have been more pressing matters, but we could still use this to set precedent. People need to know that their leaders are not arbitrary in judgment. Whatever is done about this issue will have to stand for how you all intend things to go on, one way or another."
=====
Vallen appears to agree with Zoriya's words. "Aye, there is a need for law and order that has not yet been filled in Newspring, but the need to quell the hunger takes precedence. When our first crops come in we can start to discuss a proper set of laws for our home."
Sorala nods her head to the newcomer. "You're council is wise, Zoriya. I will certainly keep my mind keen when exploring what, if anything, is going on with our food."
Either a giant centipede just crawled up Hobie's backside, or the news that rumors were being spread was unwelcome. He is suddenly pale and sweating and his eyes are jumping about wildly.
"Well ... I never ... I mean ... who would say that? Whoever they are, they're a liar!"
As discussion winds down and the night drags along, Vallen takes the floor. "It appears our discussion has reached sufficient conclusions and we have a plan for tomorrow. Is there a motion to adjourn, and a second?"
Hassan's dark eyes narrow under a furrowed brow and he moves closer to Hobie. Even taking a knee beside him, the keleshite still towers over the halfling man. His words are low and tinged with the promise of anger as he looms over Hobie and his patched sailcloth, "Grimm. If there were any truth to such rumors, even if you simply chose to turn a blind eye to the actions of others, now would be the time to speak. It could be dealt with here...quietly. Know that if such a thing were to become public in the future, I would have neither the means, nor I imagine the inclination to ensure the safety of the culprits. At best those responsible might be permitted to leave Newspring permanently...at worst...I believe you and yours are already familiar with the kellid sense of justice? ...I ask you to consider well before you speak."
Hobie's eyes grow wide and he stammers.
"It wasn't my idea," he whispers. "They were talking about who was contributing and asking why Walton should catch fish for the likes of the Thayers when we were going hungry. When the council asked us to mind the food, we thought, you know, it would be wise to save a little for us.
He swallows and looks at the ground. "It was stupid. I just don't like being hungry."
Hassan sighs deeply, looking around to make certain that no others are within earshot. Satisfied he turns back to the halfling, his tone deadly serious, "Yes, it was exceedingly stupid of you all. Do you realize the danger you have placed yourselves in. Do you think yourselves the only ones worried about being hungry? All of Newspring is on edge, looking for somewhere to place blame for their troubles. You've just offered yourselves up as scapegoats...and a fair portion of the scorn they would heap on you would be well deserved. Everyone here is pulling their weight in one way or another. You may despise Thayer as the mongoose does a cobra, but it was him who stood with the others against the damn cannibals who would have made the lot of you into a light snack. It is the walls that he has worked hard these past days to build that you will hide behind when these demon-thralled dwarves come searching for more blood sacrifices. We would not leave you and yours outside to die simply because you did not swing a hammer personally. You must view what food we have in a similar fashion if you wish to remain part of this community."
"Great trust was placed in all of you and you have betrayed it. I should throw all of you to the wolves...", he gestures to Newspring and it's peoples behind him, "and let them fight over your bones, rest assured many of them would...but I won't. The truth is we need each and every one of us if we hope to make it through the coming months. I was asked to oversee the safety of Newspring's citizens and I mean to do so.", the makeshift sheriff locks eyes with the halfling, "This matter will stay between us. However, you must return what food you have hoarded, all of it...now. Tell the others, from this point on you will fulfill the duty trusted to you without fail or you have my word I will personally hang the lot of you. Am I making myself clear?"
Assuming Hobie replies favorably, Hassan gives him a nod and stands as if to leave. At the last moment however he turns back, "You have been honest with me so far Grimm, and I appreciate that, but I must ask you one more question. Did you or any of the others know that Sandlock meant to silence Thayer's inquiries that night?"
Hobie nods, turning even paler than before.
"Crystal clear," he whispers. "I ... I'm so sorry. It was incredibly stupid of us, but it just ... there were those of us ... Ben, mostly ... who said eventually we halflings would have to go it alone. He said he was going to take care of something he should have taken care of the day we landed. I'd seen him talking to Thayer that afternoon, but I didn't think he'd try to kill him. You ... er ... you won't tell anyone will you?"
Hassan stares at the halfling for a long moment before shaking his head minutely, "No. Not unless you give me reason to do so in the future. Sandlock...Ben spent too much of his life with none to rely on save himself I think. Such a way of life is possible in the city. Here on these distant shores it will doom us all..."
Finished at last, Hassan takes his leave of Hobie.
------------
As the council meeting draws to a close, Hassan clears his throat, gesturing to be allowed to interject.
Provided he is permitted, he moves to stand in the circle, looking around at the others gathered with a neutral expression before speaking, "My pardon. I feel I can save you a great deal of time on the matter of food hoarding. I have made my own investigation into the matter and feel I have been quite thorough."
He pauses for a moment, feeling the gaze of the others surround him, "It is my belief that as of this moment, those this council have put in charge of our food stores are doing no such thing. Their duties will be seen to with the utmost care. I am sure due to our situation the rumor will persist for some time but I will have my people do what they can to quell them. Our list of outside threats grows ever more grisly...do not long too much for more within."
Taking her leave from the council, Sorala makes her way to her bed and after jotting some brief notes about the meeting, lays back and puts her arm over her head, trying to shut out the moonlight. Each throb of her migraine sends horrible visions through her mind; kuru roasting the people of Newspring like pigs on a spit; fights and killings between friends and neighbors over scraps of rotted food; dwarves overrunning the wooden palisade around town, and a towering, dark shape rising above it, batwings extending behind up behind it, an otherworldly howl echoing throughout the camp...
Sighing, the young woman opens her eyes and gathering her club and Garrack, makes her way to the Tiger Oak, where slowly the headache subsides, and the haggard woman falls into a dreamless sleep, the Garrack statue next to her in its divot on the ground.
As dawn comes, the first rays of light send Sorala into that uneasy place between wakefullness and sleep, and the woman again tosses and turns, until a large crack causes her to sit upright, ramrod straight, a yell cut short and trailing off to a gasp.
There, on the ground, Garrack has fallen to his side, and laying, just touching the base of the statue, cleaved from the Tiger Oak, is a stout branch, extending about five or six feet from Garrack's base to its other end, mostly straight. Sorala stands and looks at the branch for a while, and grabbing it and the statue, heads towards the forge, finding the stonemason Garross Stonejaw preparing for his morning work.
"Garross, I need your help with this statue and branch. Can you drill a hole in the base of Garrack and insert this heavier end of the branch into the hole, attaching the branch to my husband, making them one... like a staff?"
Cueta sleeps the sleep of the Chelish, filled with enticing dreams and little worry. Waking from a delicious dream-feast of grain alcohol and red grouper, the woman eats a quick breakfast and soon eyes Kal'Tos and Gair preparing for a journey. Making her way over to the explorers, Cueta grins and sets her pack down, already packed the night before. "I figured we'd be off today. To the goblins?"
Noticing for the first time the half-orc and the northman , the Mwangi nods and introduces herself. "I assume you're some of the new arrivals? Nice to meet you both. You'll be heading out with us today, from the looks of it? Well, you look to capable enough." Putting her hand over her breast, the warrior gives a quick bow and says, "Cueta Guiding Star. Get some of the monkey jerky for your supplies. It has been drying all night. And not a moment too soon. The monkeys were beginning to turn."
Gair wakes early, cleansing himself in the spring runoff before returning to collect his gear and say farewell to Bern, "I know you're eager to be free of this place for a time but Newspring strong warriors to remain. Keep a vigil for these demon worshipers...even here the minions of the abyss seek to drive us from our home. Should they come, I know you will hold them until we return."
Patting his son on the arm, the northern warrior heads to join the others. He smirks as Ceuta approaches, "Indeed. I had rather hoped you would join us. I still do not trust these hobs."
He grimaces at the mention of "imp jerky", "I'd say they turned long before we met them Ceuta..."
Day 23: Gozran 24th
The day dawns clear and still, and roughly half of Newspring heads west, into the hills, searching for fresh food supplies.
A group of 6 heads to the Northwest, hoping to make contact with their nearest neighbors. The hills grow steadily higher, with streams carving deep, narrow valleys. A few bald peaks crown the ridges, giving the explorers a wide view, allowing them to see the larger river that pours into the eastern tip of Lillend Bay.
It is midafternoon when they reach such a peak and, looking west, see a rugged valley spread below them, carved into terraces. They are ancient, and many have fallen into disrepair and been overgrown by the forest, but some, near the head of the valley are still cleared and grain grows in neat rows. On a hilltop on the far side of the valley, a watch tower stands, capped by an onion dome. Below is a small structure, similar in design to the elven tower from the Dwarven ruins.
Tiny figures working in the fields appear to be hobgoblins, but from this distance, it is hard to be sure.
Kal'Tos looks to see if he can figure out the number of hobgoblins and if there is a visible village.
Perception
Tomag also tries to observe the distant fields, shielding his eyes from the afternoon sun.