Cueta retrieves her javelin and heads to the front of the travois, javelin in one hand and bill in the other, head swivelling back and forth as they start off, listening for the approach of the wolves. "Yell if you need me in back, Istiel."
Istiel doesn't reply to Cueta, but takes up the rear. She remains vigilant as they continue to travel to Newspring. We are leading the wolves straight to Newspring. They may become a problem if they settle in on the outskirts and steal food...
The wolves feint a few times, and they remain constant companions to the group as they make the last miles to Newspring. They do not attack again, or expose themselves to the player's attacks. The constant threat makes the progress a bit slower than expected, and it is well past midnight when a voice calls out in slightly accented Taldan.
"Who's there?" A Katapeshi woman named Ranaz appears, in scraps of armor and brandishing a spear. When she sees it is you, she lets out a sigh of relief and lowers the weapon. "Blessings on you. What in Gormuz is that?"
Istiel is on edge the entire way back to Newspring, but by the time she has reached the edges of Newspring she is confident the wolves are no threat at the moment.
The elf begins to climb a nearby tree, responding as she ascends. Her reply is terse- "A feast." The elf settles into a comfortable nook, her bow on her lap. "Ranaz, we were followed by a dozen or more wolves. Inform the other guards to be alert. I will remain here."
She lets the others handle taking the food to the halflings, and stays in the tree. Her body is tired but she attempts to keep her mind sharp, senses alert.
If any wolves get too close, she will fire arrows at them. It was time to mark their territory against the beasts.
Cueta smiles as she sees the astonishment on Ranaz's face. "A pig. The biggest gods damned pig I've ever seen. But Tomag was its match, and now everyone will eat well tomorrow. Tonight though, I sleep." Helping the guys get the travois to the cookspot, Cueta then heads to the stream to bathe before falling, exhausted, into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Ranaz whistles admiringly at the sled full of meat, and her whistle is answered by a growl from the darkness. She looks fearful, and nods nervously.
"Bring it in. Take it to Balis," she adds after a moment's thought, her fear of strange growls in the night pushed aside by her enthusiasm about the mountain of pork. "It'll take a few days to prepare, but I think she needs something to do. And Ulfen pit roast is amazing."
========
Vallen, Vada, Sorala and Septimus are each woken slightly before dawn by the sound of excitement spreading through the camp. As the explorers haul their prize in, a small crowd of sleepy and hungry people gathers around them.
There are almost as many suggestions for how to prepare it as there are residents, and the discussion is threatening to grow heated when a piercing whistle commands attention. Gwenci is standing on a rock, making him visible to all. He points at the sled.
"All eat many time. Strangers cook, Gwenci cook. All eat. All say Gwenci cook best."
As Ranaz mentions Ulfen pit roast, a long low rumbling comes from Cueta's belly, similar in sound and volume to that of a wary, growling dog.
Sorala wakes, at once wary and alert at the commotion. Under attack, again? Relaxing once she realizes there is little urgency, but much excitement, coursing the camp, Sorala takes her staff and makes her way to the source of the commotion; three of the explorers pulling a sled of meat through the camp. Gods, is that a sled of meat, topped with two dead wolves? Did they just travel through the woods, hatcheting everything in their way?
The historian stands silently, watching the commotion, mouth watering, as the discussion gets more heated about how to prepare it all. Once Gwenci makes his pronouncement, Sorala moves next to him and yells to the assembled Newspringers. "Of course, Gwenci, you would be welcome to prepare some of this... bounty... in the ways of your people. As should everyone else that wants to. I'm no cook, but I imagine there's more than enough here for everyone who wants to do so. Perhaps we should have a celebration, a means for us all to celebrate our heritage through the cooking of our homelands? Maybe even a contest?"
Vallen wakes groggily- his sleep had been peaceful lately, the nightmares only becoming a dull murmur. Ever since the completion of the forge his dreams seemed to have been preoccupied with images of home and the life he left behind.
Running a hand over his face, the dwarf decides to investigate the commotion. He ties his beard into a loose single braid and approaches the crowd, eyes widening to the size of cups at the mountain of meat. Torag bless us... Next to the forge, this is the greatest marvel I have witnessed in weeks...
He doesn't join the debate on how to prepare the food, but his attention is drawn to Gwenci when the hobgoblin announces to the town that he wants to cook the meat. The dwarf raises an eyebrow. The meat cooked by the hobgoblins tastes strange if I recall...
The dwarf is about to deflect Gwenci's suggestion, but Sorala comes up with an acceptable solution. "An excellent suggestion Sorala. We should celebrate this blessing with a feast tonight, a banquet of the cultures to remember the foods of an ocean over."
There is a great deal more debate and discussion about proper dire boar preparations, but as it seems everyone will get to show their stuff, it becomes less violent. A number of cooks take Gwenci's challenge, once everyone figures out that's what he was saying.
Eventually, a sort of agreement is reached. Whatever remains after the feast tonight will be divided between Gwenci, Balis, Zik, Tatya and Jaysin, for another feast in five days time.
Gaross, on the other hand, is enthusiastic about the wolf pelts. Though he was eager to bang on metal as well, there is a small supply of ore and three eager dwarves vying for time at the forge.
Kal'Tos speaks to various people about the food. "we should be careful not to use all this food on two massive meals. Wise use may even allow us to move back to full rations if only for a short period of time."
After discussing the food situation Kal'Tos will do what he can to improve the forge's ability to process metal ore. Taking 10 on profession miner to generate an additional 1.5 "gold" of materials.
After the crowd is no longer on the verge of fighting over how to cook a mountain of boar, Vallen slips away to return the forge. There is still much work to do today, and he has glaives to make. He is pleased Kal'tos joins them to give tips on smelting the iron ore that has been gathered, and the day's batch of steel is larger than normal.
Vallen gives Rhyfelwr the steel glaive he made the previous day, and asks the fighter to test it. He wants feedback on their improvement and aims to make them specifically for hobgoblin use.
The smith begins work on the cold-iron glaive that was promised. The cold-forging technique takes a long while, but he hopes it will be effective against the demon birds.
Sorala nods to Kal'Tos. "I agree, good priest. We should have a feast, but give our cooks the time to devise menus, or foragers to return, and for the rest of us to contribute something - whether it is a piece of art or music, a story, or a written description of the celebration, I hope that all of us can contribute something. And I say we practice restraint until the feast - normal half-rations. Of course, this will be difficult, but it will make the anticipation that much sweeter. Don't forget, our farms and gardens are all nearing the point of being harvestable - those additional vegetables will also add flavors that we've sorely been missing. I for one am especially looking forward to Tatya's pulled pork with cabbage slaw - I hear it is a great delicacy among her people."
The crowd disperses slowly, and many eyes jealously watch the mound of meat. There are plenty of volunteers to shoo the flies away, as the five cooks start hanging the meat to cure. Gwenci starts pointing fingers at the loiterers and demonstrates a remarkable ability to communicate with a very few words. People begin gathering stones and wood, and by the middle of the day, it's clear that the hobgoblin has begun construction of a kitchen.
Rhyfelwr and Brighteyes spend their time at the forge, learning Taldan and metalworking.
==========
Rhyfelwr beheads a stump with the glaive and grins widely at Vallen.
Ni fydd yr adar du yn hoffi hyn. Pa mor hir hyd nes y byddwch yn gallu gwneud tri deg yn fwy?"
==========
As the hubbub around the explorer's return starts to settle down, Manari approaches Istiel. She smiles at the warrior's return and sits on a stump.
"আমি আপনাকে, বোন ফিরে আছে যে অব্যাহতিপ্রাপ্ত করছি. আপনি প্রস্তুত হলে, আমি কি দেখা যায় জানতে আগ্রহী."
==========
Vasily and Koschei lead a charge of small children at Tomag, showing no respect whatsoever for the half-orcs fresh injuries, but demanding a full report of everything, and firing questions at him so fast he can't possibly follow them.
==========
Horn'Tos grins at the sight of so much meat, but then he turns to his brother over with a tense expression. With the eye of a skilled smith, he points to the gash in Kal'Tos' armor where the tusk went in.
"We got the forge built. We should be able to patch that up without too much trouble."For the young dwarf, it's practically an hysterical outburst of worry for his brother's health.
Horn'Tos grins at the sight of so much meat, but then he turns to his brother over with a tense expression. With the eye of a skilled smith, he points to the gash in Kal'Tos' armor where the tusk went in.
"We got the forge built. We should be able to patch that up without too much trouble."For the young dwarf, it's practically an hysterical outburst of worry for his brother's health.
"Relax brother, yes my armour needs fixing hut you didn't think a great beast that could provide so much food would just lie down and die did you? Tomag has proven to be a skilled healer so between the two of us there was little danger. And there has to be some excitement in this new land you wanted to come to."
Kal'Tos tries to downplay how serious the fight with the dire boar was so his younger brother doesn't worry. After all he came here to make sure Horn'Tos stayed safe on this crazy adventure of his, not the other way around.
Kal'Tos then lowers his voice.
"and I saw gold brother, not much but enough that more exploration is worth doing. I am unsure if any of the others noticed or cared about it. Hopefully we can open a mine once things have stabilized. Father will have to approve of our trip if we ship back quantities of gold."
Vallen isn't terribly surprised when he hears Gwenci has started construction of a kitchen- after spending a few days with the hobgoblin it was becoming clear he was not going to follow directions and instead pursue his own interests. At least Sharpeyes had the discipline to be a well-studied smith.
----------
The dwarf observes as Rhyfelwr practices with the glaive, cringing slightly when he manages to behead a stump. The cut of the blade isn't for chopping wood! Now I'll have to sharpen it again... But by Torag I cannot argue with the results of our ad-hock steel.
Vallen gives the warrior a happy smile before replying. "Adar du yn dysgu i ofn bwganod mewn pryd. Gwneud dur glaive bob dau ddiwrnod, dau fis. A fydd chyfrif i maes ffordd i gyflymu cynhyrchu, efallai yn gwneud un ddur bob dydd, un mis. Glaives Cold-haearn yn cymryd mwy o amser, ond dim ond gwneud ar gyfer y prawf ar adar nawr." He strokes his beard in thought, before turning and heading back towards his work. "Sharpeyes ddysgu'n gyflym. Unwaith glaives gorffen yn dychwelyd gyda hi, a sefydlwyd efail ei hun ar gyfer bwganod. Dysgu ei ffyrdd o wneud arfwisg ... adar du yn dysgu i ofni disgleirio goblins metel, yna."
Sharpeyes learn quickly. Once glaives finished will return with her, set up own forge for goblins. Teach her ways of making armor... Black birds learn to fear shining metal goblins, then. Perhaps then, no more fear for all.
Istiel sits in her tree, still watching for any signs of the wolves enroaching on their territory. The elf hears Manari approaching and smiles, climbing from the branches to greet the wizard.
She stretches and leans against a tree next to her. Deep brown eyes look off in the distance, from the direction they came. "আমি, বোন ফিরে আনন্দিত. আমি আপনাকে আমাদের মৃগয়া সুখী দেখেছি নিই. এটা আমি কখনও সম্মুখীন সবচেয়ে বড় শুয়োর ছিল. , হিংস্র গর্বিত, এবং ক্ষমতাশালী. এটা কোনো একক শিকারী হত্যা করা হত, কিন্তু একসঙ্গে আমরা. আমি যদিও, এগিয়ে নিজেকে পেতে.
আমরা একটি সুবিশাল পাহাড়ি বনের মধ্যে, পচা জমি মাধ্যমে পশ্চিম ভ্রমণ. জমি সুন্দর আছে. ঝক্ঝক্ এবং গয়না মত কিরণ যে একটি নদী পর্যন্ত. পাহাড় এক মাইল জন্য দেখুন. পূর্ব করার জন্য, ভাঙা খুলি ভ্যালি অতীত পুরানো, পুরানো পর্বত হয়. তাদের অগ্রজ পাহাড় কল করবে. একটি হ্রদ আমাদের দূরত্ব একটি নিছক পাখি স্নান থেকে, মাঝখানে. পশ্চিমে তাই মোটা একটি কাঠবিড়াল ভুমি স্পর্শ ছাড়া তার দৈর্ঘ্য ভ্রমণ পারে বনের মধ্যে আবৃত বিস্তীর্ণ সমতল জমি আছে.
আমরা ভ্রমণকারীরা দীর্ঘ অতীতের জন্য একটি ঘন বিশ্রামের পয়েন্ট হিসেবে কাজ করেছে যে একটি অগভীর গুহা খুঁজে পাওয়া যায়নি. এটা বছর ব্যবহারের দেখা যায় না. আমরা অগ্নিকুণ্ড নির্মিত যারা নির্ধারণ করতে পারে না. আমি সমতল বন ঘোরাঘুরি বিশ্বাস. এক সময় তারা পাশাপাশি এখানে থাকতে পারে.
হ্রদ সম্পর্কে ষড়যন্ত্রে. কিন্তু অন্যদের প্রথম ঘাস জায়গা প্রয়োজন."
We traveled west through the rotten lands, into a vast hilly forest. The land there is beautiful. There is a river that glisten and sparkles like jewelry. The hills let one see for miles. To the east, past the Broken Skull Valley are old, old mountains. Dwarves would call them elder hills. A lake shines in the middle, from our distance a mere bird bath. To the west are vast flat lands covered in forest so thick a squirrel could travel its length without touching the ground.
We found a shallow cave that had served as a frequent resting point for travelers long past. It had not seen use in years. We could not determine who built the fire pit. I believe the bugbears roam the flat forests. At one time they may have roamed here as well.
The lake intrigues me. But the others need places to forage first.
Tomag winces as he falls on his rear, covered in small children. "Oof. Calm down, little ones, I will listen to each of you in turn." He proceeds to recount his adventure to the kids, making sure to leave out the gritty details, his grin wide and excited through his whole story. "And that," he embellishes, "is how I tossed a wolf thiry feet."
Cueta lays her carpentry tools next to the ship's boat she's patching to watch her sister spar. The Mwangi marvels at Melilla's fierceness, her tenacity, and her bravery. Truly, my rabbit is dead and gone. I don't like it, but gods damned if my sister isn't as strong an Ijo warrior as any from our childhood.
Sighing, Cueta grabs her waterskin and waits for Melilla to finish her sparring match. Approaching her younger sister, the Ijo holds out her waterskin. "Nwanna Nwanyị, anyị gburu abụọ nkịta ọhịa n'abalị ikpeazụ, na akpụkpọ siri ike iji na-egbochi ube na fist. Ọ ga-amasị a uwe agha, ma ọ bụ a hide uwe elu? A eme ihe ike ike ekike egosi uwa na eme ihe ike ike beserker ị na-?"
The mention of gold is all it takes for Horn'Tos to forget any concern he had about his brother's safety, and his eyes glaze as he starts considering how it should best be worked. For a moment.
"Gold is good," he says. "But we can't eat it. It won't help us to survive." He flinches and takes a deep breath. "Sorala is collecting information and making a map. Make sure she knows exactly where the gold is. In case, you know, the next pig...." He glances at the rent in Kal'Tos armor. "But first, let me get a hammer on that."
=============
Rhyfelwr grins at Vallen's estimation of Sharpeyes talent, and looks proudly to where the other hobgoblin is stoking the fires of the forge. Gwenci, naturally, is nowhere to be seen, busy directing the construction of his smokehouse.
"Mae eich ffrindiau wedi bod yn agos gwlad destun cwyno. Maent yn byw yn y tiroedd isel. Maent yn hela y baedd mawr," he says. "Dylech eu rhybuddio i fod yn ofalus. Nid casbethau yn croesawu dieithriaid."
=============
Manari sighs at Istiel's report and shakes her head.
"এই জমি আমরা জন্য প্রত্যাশিত ছিল না কি হয়. সমস্ত আমার অভিজ্ঞতা আমাকে জুজু বিশ্বাস করতে না সতর্ক, কিন্তু তারা আমাদের হত্যা করতে চেষ্টা করে না যে এখানে শুধুমাত্র পুরুষদের দ্বারা. তারা এলভিস সত্যিই কথা বলতে থাকে, আমরা আমাদের নিজেদের বিরুদ্ধে যুদ্ধ মজুরি বাধ্য করা হতে পারে, কিন্তু আমরা কোন শান্তি সম্ভব যে প্রমাণ আছে যতক্ষণ না আমি যে ঘটতে মঞ্জুরি দেয় না."
"Will you continue your survey of the area around us?" she adds in Taldan. "Thaliel is coming back to us. I think soon she may have recovered sufficiently to be of use."
=============
The children are thrilled by Tomag's story, and threaten to overwhelm him before Tatya hobbles over and whistles them off like a pack of dogs. It works well enough, though and the children charge off to watch the construction of the kitchen. Tatya gives Tomag a weary smile and trudges off after them.
=============
Melilla remains bitter and awkward with Cueta, but equally so with everyone else. She moves as though nursing a terrible wound, bent with a hand almost always holding her side. After the morning sparring sessions, she follows Vada out to work on the farmland, and pesters him with questions about which sprouting plants are weeds and which are food. She asks about the same plants again and again.
When she fights, though, there is a reckless glee that transforms her, and most of the rest of Newspring's warriors show her respect, bordering on fear.
With the offer of the wolf's hide, she pauses and thinks for a moment. Then her mouth tries to wrap around a smile, but she can't quite seem to make it work.
Ị pụtara nke ọma, anwụnta. M ekele unu maka nke, ma a warrior anaghị eyi a na-agbata n'ọsọ nyere nwanne ya nwaanyị. M ga-ahụ m na-agbata n'ọsọ. Were m na gị mgbe ị na-aga ọzọ.
"I would rather avoid the risk of gold fever at this time brother. And if we are the only ones who know about it, who other than the house of Tos will be able to exploit this wealth?"
Kal'Tos then explains as much as he can to his brother about where he saw the gold.
Cueta nods to her sister, silently gritting her teeth to hear Edmund's insult come from Melilla's mouth. "N'ezie, nwanne. M na-aghọta na ị na-achọ ịhụ gị na-agbata n'ọsọ. Anyị nwere ike na-ahapụ dị ka anya dị ka echi. M ga-eme ka ị mara mgbe ọ." And, if you're going to run around the forest with no armor, it is best that I am with you. You're as stubborn as a turtle, and have the protection of one on its back.
Turning to leave, Cueta notes with alarm the hobbling in Melilla's gait, her sister's clutching at her side. A blush coloring her cheeks, Cueta, strides to her sister's side and says, low-voiced, quiet and concerned, "Gịnị mere i ji na-eje ije strangely, hunched n'elu dị ka a osisi junipa? Ị chọrọ ịhụ a na-agwọ ọrịa? Olee otú nke a eme?"
After speaking with her sister, Cueta goes by the travois and skins the wolves, and then makes her way to Horn'Tos. On her way to the dwarf, Cueta spots Tomag playing with the children. Such a pleasant man to be such a wicked warrior. Making her way to the orc, Cueta stands and watches him play for a little while, appreciating his storytelling skills. As the children scamper off with Tatya, Cueta smiles and nods. "I'd say you threw that wolf forty feet. I - we - owe you a debt. Without you there to kill that boar, Kal'Tos, Istiel and I may - no, we would be dead. We need you out with us to survey these lands... especially if Gair doesn't recover. However, you move slowly in that armor. I'm taking these skins to Horn'Tos. I'll ask him to make you something you can move quickly in."
-----
Dropping the skins at the dwarf's feet, the Mwangi, says, "Tomag needs some armor, something he can run and jump in, and that won't slow us down when we're surveying these lands. Something like you made that farmer that likes to try and hit my sister. I'd like some armor like that too, but it can wait. I worry that winter will be here before we're prepared, before everyone has shelter. Can you make outfits from the furs, to keep our people warm?"
Tomag grins widely at Cueta. "I would appreciate if you would," he tells her. "Might make the wolves decide to leave us be when we're going back out there, too." His grin turns into a lopsided smirk, a hint of mirth slipping into his tone.
Vallen listens to Rhyfelwr closely, nodding his head slowly. he then tells the story of their interactions with the bugbears to the hobgoblin. "Casbethau coesyn ni ar arfordir unwaith. Peidiwch byth yn dryloyw yn y bore, cerflun ger y safle gwersylla. Erchyll, a drafodir yn blu du, dannedd kuru. Anfon neges eu gelynion ni. Rydym yn anfon neges yn ôl. I gerfio image of Cueta pen o bren, rhoi ar gerflun, gyda plât, gan gynnig i destun cwyno cerflun I gerfio. Rydym yn rhoi pen kuru rydym yn lladd ar blât. Gwiriwch Ychydig ddyddiau yn ddiweddarach. Mae llawer o benaethiaid kuru gwmpas parti rhyfel statue- rydym wedi bod yn edrych am, casbethau ein helpu. Casbethau Hope cydnabod Cueta o'r cerflun, wybod i ni ar yr un ochr. A fydd yn dweud wrthynt i fod yn amheus cautious- cydnabod yn digwydd ar unwaith."
The priest returns to his work soon after- it was near blasphemous for a Cleric of Torag to sit around talking when there was metalworking to be done.
------------------
Later in the day when the forge was cold, Vallen would find Cueta and relay what the hobgoblin warrior told him. "...said you were near Bugbear territory, as we expected. They hunt the giant boars for food. I... can only imagine the size of the beast, to produce that mountain of meat.... I have only seen pictures of bugbears, but I know they are over seven feet tall, huge, muscular, yet they creep through the night without a sound. Cruel, and solitary. The fact these bugbears work together is so strange... but everything we have learned so far is a testament to the strangeness of this land."
The dwarf strokes his beard in thought for a few moments, before giving a start. "Oh. Rhyfelwr wanted me to warn you to be careful. He said "Nid casbethau yn croesawu dieithriaid", which roughly translates to "There is no welcome for strangers". The bugbears, I mean. They don't like strangers. I hope the ones that saw the statue recognize you... it would make matters much easier." Vallen sucks in a breath, and looks to the east. "I am willing to accompany you should a diplomatic mission with the bugbears be needed. Sorala speaks Goblin much better than I, but... It is my duty to Grundinnar to foster the growth of this community through the acquisition of allies." He looks quite concerned at the prospect, remembering how the hobgoblins pointed their spears at their group the last time. Would the bugbears even bother to show themselves before attacking?
Istiel continues to stare off into the distance as Manari speaks, giving a start as she mentions waging war against their own. The ranger turns her head to look at Manari with concern.
"এটা ঘটতে পারে? তারা Drow ... হ্যাঁ ... কিন্তু .... ছিল নিশ্চয় তারা আমাদের এইজন্য উপর আলোচনা হবে. আমার হাত আমাদের নবজাত বাড়ির দোলা ভাই বা বোন রক্ত ঝরা না পারে ... আমরা তাদের খুঁজে পেতে হবে. তারা আমাদের কথা শুনতে হবে."
She lets out a long sigh, her typically cool demeanor slightly shaken by the prospect of fighting their own kind. "Yes. We head east soon." A small smile alights her lips at the mention of Thaliel recovering. "I am glad.. Her eyes... they were so dim." The elf recalls, before looking over at the wizard, reaching up to grip her shoulder lightly. "Tell me when she is ready. Experiencing this land would do her well."
Cueta spends the afternoon patching Newspring's boats and then heads to dinner, where she spends the rest of the evening sitting by the cookfire, watching the cooks work and chatting with Deeshka. Taking her time to get to the point, Cueta banters about the things she's seen, the state of the ship's boats, asks how the halfling is doing, and talks of the skill to be on display in a few days time with the feast. Eventually, the Mwangi works the conversation around to her sister. "Melilla walks strangely, hunched over as if in pain. Have you noticed anything about her? Does she still sleep in the Thayers' tent?"
Sighing, Cueta leans back against a tree stump, the rest of the cedar having gone into the guard tower's construction. She watches Gwenci with interest, seeing how the goblin moves, assuredly, commanding his troops in the construction of the kitchen and the preparation of food, even as the darkness of the evening comes on. Wrapping her hand around the halfling's foot, Cueta holds it, a gesture that goes back years, from the warrior's coming of age among the Chels. "Do you remember Grog-Eyed William, from Lonnagin's ship? Best ship's cook I've ever seen. Too bad about the keelhauling, really. He had a way of marshaling the cooks that bordered on generalship. The goblin has it too. He will be a feared and respected commander of the kitchen."
"I probably leave again tomorrow, to finish our survey to the east. If it happens, Melilla may come with me, and I can try further to suss out what is going on with the girl. If she stays though, can I ask you to do as we did when we were enslaved? We could hide in plain site among the nobles, while they spilled all their secrets along with their wine. Keep to the background, but be observant. This guilt for leaving her - it knaws at me, here." Cueta places a hand under her breasts, at the top of her stomach. "Like a rabid dog."
Falling quiet, she watches the cooks work some more, lost in thought about her sister. Jumping a little as Vallen announces his presence, Cueta listens, her smile at seeing the dwarf's appearance turning down as he continues to talk. "I was hoping that our mutual enemy would buy us some goodwill. They've allowed us safe passage so far - I see no reason why it won't continue, as long as we are respectful. If the bugbears are as fearsome as you describe, they would make valuable allies. And I must admit, I'm curious to see if our statue gambit worked. I'm glad you're coming. Sorala may be gifted with many tongues, but we both saw her on the beach - she'd be as likely to hurt us as help if a fight breaks out. We'll need Tomag with us - he almost single-handedly slew that boar. And Kal'Tos of course. His sense of direction is without peer. I probably leave again tomorrow, to look more at the lands to the east. We should go visit the bugbears after we return from scouting, after the feast."
Horn'Tos nods to his brother, thoughtfully, and picks up a flat rock. As Kal'Tos describes the place where he saw the gold, Horn'Tos listens attentively, and scratches on the stone with a chisel.
"I will keep this secret, then," he smiles, and holds up the rock. Etched into the smooth surface is a crude drawing that could almost be Kal'Tos, if the nose were shorter and the beard in braids instead of spilling freely. "Върхът на носа е злато, брат. Новата колекция пролет сърцето ти. Дали брадата представи планините, както вие ги помните ли? Май елфите вярват джуджета не могат да изготвят завинаги."
As Cueta approaches, he holds the rock up to compare his sketch to Kal'Tos.
"Perfect," he says. "I'll carve it properly and hang it in the forge. A good likeness, eh?" He offers his carving to Cueta as she dumps the pelts at his feet.
"You have a sister?" he says, surprised. "Of course, the little one from the dwarven island, yes? Forgive me, I have been so busy building that I forget. Armor?" He shakes his head and lets out a heavy sigh as he fingers the pelts, and then looks at his brother. "You know I'd sell him without blinking for a half a ton of good steel to work with. But I suppose I can make something with this, yes."
===========
Manari looks up at the sky and shrugs. Her voice is somber as she speaks. "তারা অন্ধকার পরী হতে পারে, কিন্তু সাদা চুল নেই যে অনেক মন্দ আছে. আমরা কি তারা আমাদের কোন উপায় দিতে যদি না আমাদের ধরনের হত্যা করবে না, কিন্তু তখন পর্যন্ত, আপনি এবং ব্যবহার করতে পারবেন না পারেন তা বলতে না."
"I think the Mwangi girl may go out as well. Their shared pain will brace one side, and you, her sister-in-arms from home, will brace the other. She will learn to walk on her own again soon."
============
"Casbethau yw ein cefndryd, ac rydym yn eu ofni. Nid ydynt yn fasnachu fel rydym yn ei wneud. Maent yn beryglus iawn. Mae gennym heddwch gyda nhw dim ond oherwydd nad ydym yn crwydro ymhell oddi wrth ein bryniau," Rhyfelwr tells Vallen. He looks appreciatively at his glaive and begins to sharpen the blade, watching Vallen to be sure hes doing it correctly, until the dwarf goes off.
Vallen relays the rest of what Rhyfelwr told him to Cueta, his arms crossed over his beard, pacing slowly back and forth. "Rhyfelwr said the bugbears are "beryglus iawn"... very dangerous. They do not trade with the hobgoblins, and it seems the only reason the bugbears leave the hobs alone is because they do not stray far from the valley. The hobs seem to fear the bugbears... You must be careful... and cautious..." He finishes with a nod.
Drawing a deep breath, the cleric begins to walk away with parting words. "Before you leave tomorrow, find me. I have been carving a hunting horn from an ogre's tusk- it might be useful for signaling the town? Let us hope the demon birds do not hear as well as they see..."
Istiel frowns slightly, and looks to the ground for a moment. "সব বিষয়ে মন খোলা."
The ranger sits up, looking skeptical for a moment, but it passes as she sighs deeply. "আমি সবে এক বানর হ্যান্ডেল করতে পারেন. Thaliel, though...Yes. I will be her crutch until she owns her steps once more."
She gets up, slinging her bow over her shoulder. "I watched Desna's stars all night, listening for the wolves. I am going to rest now... until morning, sister."
Desnus 2
The Wasp's Tail
Two weeks since the captain of the Laughing Lillend came aboard and told of the fate of the great fleet that set out with the Golden Pegasus. Captain Pamodae asked him to repeat his take to her crew and passengers, and a great many boarded the Lillend, to return to Absalom. A few of the sailors from the Lillend hopped over to the Wasp's Tail to make the voyage back across the sea.
A week ago, the ship sailed through a sea of debris, including the remains of the Golden Pegasus herself, and the captain kept full sail up through the night until she felt sure the kraken's hunting ground was behind you.
Last night, Captain Pamodae put out a sea anchor to keep the Wasp's Tail from drifting. She put the crew on alert that they were near the territory of the cannibals described by the Lillend's crew. When the sun rose this morning, the coast was visible in the distance, and by midmorning, there was a break in the shoreline, the narrow mouth of the wide bay that Kynack had described. The crew and company were in good spirits as a steady, strong wind blew them towards the place where the Lillend had left a few brave souls.
Perhaps an hour passed from the time the Wasp's Tail passed through into the bay, before the sail was spotted, coming from behind on the starboard side. Captain Pamodae put on more sail, and watched the sail on the horizon.
Noon came and went, the ship nearly flying across the waves, but the other ship slowly closed the distance, til by midafternoon it was scarcely more than two miles behind the Wasp's Sting.
=======
Newspring
The four explorers set out early in the morning, leaving Melilla and Thaliel for the moment, as Deeshka identifies a bad infection in the young Mwangi woman, a parting gift from the kuru. Though prevented from leaving with the others, she will not be kept from sparring on the beach in the morning.
Work continues on various projects, and a group of foragers returns with their bounty, and reports that the food is getting thinner there. They are eager to share the news of the feast, and two set out immediately to bring in the others.
Day 31, Desnus 2
In the morning, Cueta will find Vallen sitting under the Silverclasp makeshift shelter, his small breakfast of jerky untouched next to a pitcher of water, beard in a knot and thrown over his shoulder as he puts the finishing touches on a signal horn with a scrishaw knife.
He glances up as she approaches, and a smile elevates the cleric's moustache. "Perfect timing. I just wanted to finish... this last little detail... There." He blows particles off of the horn's scrollwork, and presents the instrument to Cueta.
The ogre's tusk did not make the most flattering material- it has a slight yellowish hue and only a vigorous surface vinegar wash removed the years of accumulated stench. There are small bands of iron reinforcing the two ends- a small band around the mouth-piece, and a larger, flanged band around the larger end. Two metal rings adorn these bands, a thin strip of leather making an adjustable belt loop. Delicate, runic scrollwork covers the outside in a cross-cross pattern. It's quite clear Vallen spent more time decorating the outside than he did carving out the inside... He hands it to Cueta without ceremony, and encourages to try it out when she has a chance. "I've never made one of these before, but it makes noise, I blew on it a little bit. I don't know how loud it will be at full strength... Didn't want to startle anyone after all."
The dwarf will deliver the second signaling horn to the beach guard, which is of similar make. The only exception is the outside is decorated with sharp, abstract patterns that any keen-eyed dwarf would recognize as exaggerated natural crystal formations.
He spends the rest of his day at the forge, and barring any interruptions, plans to stay there...
Septimus does what he can to treat Melilla .
Heal check
"good morrow Melilla, I don't believe we have been formally introduced. I am Septimus, probably the primary healer of our small town. If you will let me, I will do what I can for your infection."
Wasp's Tail
Most of the trip was spent below deck for Ysanne, the colder sea winds having gotten the better of a carefree attitude and lack of suitable clothes. When the Wasp's tail passed into the bay, a fire was rekindled in her heart and excitement was contagious among the crew, Ysanne couldn't help but to forge her way topside wrapping herself in her arms to brace against the sea breeze.
She was please to find that the bay's temperature was less severe than the sea's, although the cold shoulders from the other ship's crew members had grown a bit tiring. People tend to be scared of the horrible things witches do to men that cross them and the reputation of fear was preferable to stray feelings of lust. Ysanne was beginning to hate the feeling of isolation and began looking for the one person, Donatello, that was at least courteous enough to talk with her.
Ysanne noticed Captain Pamodae's feelings were focused on the narrowing distance between the Wasp's Tail and the sails only a couple miles behind. Ysanne made a place to tuck herself out of the way where she could watch the ship chasing the Wasp and Pamodae's face whenever he came to check on his pursuer's progress. Spirits were high among the ship's crew, but Ysanne felt a quiet storm of doubt approaching- time will tell.
Wasp's Tail
Donatello sat on a barrel slowly working a back splice into the cut end of a damaged rope. Repetitive, boring work he did well, and for a man paying part-passage by the sweat of his brow, the reward for work well done was more work.
He looked calm enough - years as a caravan guard taught the danger of panic - but he wore his coat. Made from the hide of a mana wastes monster it was half an inch thick, studded with bone and pretty much ensured if he was wearing it he had a one way trip to the deeps. Not something one wore on a ship unless you thought you needed the protection more than you feared the drowning.
From where he sat he had a good sight on the ship following them, and his thoughts flicked between designing an alchemical rope that wouldn't fray, cursing that he'd never learned a spell to animate a rope, and wondering what was going to happen when that ship caught up.
Fast looking warship up against an overladen, overgrown carrier ship like this... Single musket in good hands could make all the difference - if only the captain hadn't ordered me not to start any fires after that first little incident. She's regretting that now I've got no ammo, I bet.
When Ysanne sat nearby to stare at the ship he hopped off his makeshift seat and walked over to her
"Afternoon. Look how ругатня fast she travels. I'd love to sight her lines through a 'glass."
"I reckon the Captain's go'an beach the ship ashore 'fore those ругатня reach us. Close. They'll be suckin' spray - if we're lucky. You got any plans might make a difference?"
He glances over his shoulder at the shore.
"Hope they're ругатня ready. We're towing a ton of trouble into their bay."
Desnus 1
That morning, as she heads down to the beach to finish patch the boats, Cueta sees Hobie Grimm, one of Hassan's guards, without armor or weapon, lounging under a tree. Striding up to the halfling, Cueta stands over him and stares down, hard. "You. Halfling. You're one of Hassan's men, correct? Just because your leader's ill, doesn't mean his guards don't have work to do. Get your arse up and get the rest of Hassan's men. Get your guardsmen down to the beach and spar with Thayer and his men. Then stay on the beach while the fishers are out. Stay alert. The ghouls came from the sea, we know that there are dwarves out there as well. If you see anything suspicious, do not, I REPEAT, do not stick around to fight. You guards hightail it up to Newspring as fast as you can and raise the alarm. Do this every day, until Hassan tells you differently. Let the other guards know, Brevet Sergeant Grimm, and get them organized. If I catch you lounging around again, I'll personally kick your arse down to that beach and back again."
Sighing, Cueta gets down on a knee, level to Hobie, and looks him in the eye. "The best part of my adolesence, besides that I spent it with my sister, was that I lived with and learned from halflings. If I know anything about your people, is that they have courage, wits, and honor as large in deed as their stature is small. I know that you will do honor to Hassan by watching over our fishers, so that we can all continue to fill our boats with fish. This is an incredibly important job, Grimm." Cueta nods her head towards the palisade. "There is no one. No one, that I would trust more with this than Hassan's men. Now, get your armor on and get to the beach, Brevet Sergeant Grimm."
---------
Cueta laughs long and hard at Horn'Tos's joke. "I'd not trade your brother for all the ships in the Hurricane King's fleet." Holding the impromptu carving of Kal'Tos next to the dwarf himself, Cueta smiles, a slight, rueful smile, tinged with darkness. Handing the portrait back to Horn'Tos, the Mwangi says, "It is quite a good likeness, Horn'Tos. You are an artist with many different mediums. We leave again in the morning. You should keep it safe." If we don't come back from one of these trips, you will have your carving to remember your brother, and that carving will be more valuable than all the steel in the world.
---------
Frowning, Cueta considers Vallen's words. "We know they hunt these overgrown boars. Apparently, they are a fecund animal - the boars I mean. Perhaps we should hunt a boar before heading into their territory? Bring them a gift?"
"Or, perhaps we should leave them well alone. Someday though, we're going to need that land where the ocean is pinched into Lillend Bay."
--------------
Day 31, Desnus 2
Cueta smiles, broad and warm, at the horn presented by Vallen. Taking the horn in one hand and Vallen's hand in the other, Cueta sniffles a little. "It is the finest thing I own, Vallen. Thank you, and know that I am deeply, truly honored. Three short blasts means danger. One long bellow means explorers approaching."
Sorala wakes, a smile on her face and a spring in her step. Taking her staff, the linguist heads out to the tiger oak tree where she leans Garrack up against the tree and meditates, telling Garrack her plans for the day. I will have breakfast of course. You always preferred to skip it. I never understood why. Perhaps a preview of the pork for our feast is ready. Tea will be had for sure. Then, I will hang around the kitchen for awhile, speak with Gwenci. See how his Taldan is progressing. After that, I'll visit the forge and tutor Vallen and the other goblins. Vallen is making great strides - he'll soon be more fluent than I, I'm sure. The other goblins. Well, love, they've not much a knack with languages. After the goblins and Vallen, I'll grab lunch, and then spend the afternoon setting up language classes for anyone that would like it. It will be a fine day.
Garrack doesn't respond, but unbidden into Sorala's mind comes the knowledge of how to make Newspring's warriors stronger, taller and more fearsome; and a scream so piercing it can make the ears of an enemy bleed. Also coming into Sorala's mind unbidden is Vallen's earlier warning about Garrack, which the young woman immediately brushes aside. Yes, it will be a fine day.
Ysanne feigns a quiet smile. "No plans. No need. We'll be beached I hear... I hope." Trying to be friendly, but worry casts a dark cloud.
"To come all this way..." Ysanne trails off and abandons whatever thought she was sharing and starts suddenly, "I could use a little excitement."
Vallen's eyebrows raise a little as Cueta takes his hand, immediately looking slightly uncomfortable. As soon as she is speaking he takes his hand back, beginning to busy himself with stylizing his beard. "Ah, it's all right. The horn, I mean. If I have to make any more there are many improvements I would make, and of course, I would have preferred more time to carve it. I feel a scene with you and the other explorers would have been more fitting, but time seems to run short every day." He mutters, putting his beard into his distinctive twin braids.
---------------------
Later, at the forge, Vallen would notice the rock Horn'tos had carved. He stares at it long and hard, a look of morbid curiosity on his face, as one might look at a leper. "Horn'tos... have you... taken up carving? I think this is Kal'tos, but the proportions are completely off, I've never seen him wear his beard that way, and the depth of the lines does not allow enough contrast to make the image stand out from the rest of the stone. If you'd like some help making a proper cameo later, I'd be happy to assist." He comments, giving his blunt opinion on the artistry before returning to work.
------------------------
Sorala is more than welcome at the forge- Vallen insists on continuing his work during the lessons, however, practicing his goblin in between blows of the hammer and drone of the whetstone. It's most certainly frustrating for the half-elf, but the dwarf refuses to slow down with the exception of a few minute break now and then.
He doesn't seem to make much progress with the language, but the glaive blade he is cold-forging is certainly coming along nicely.
The Wasp's Tail
The other ship closes the distance as the afternoon progresses, and Captain Pamodae gives a dazzling display of little-used curses. Smaller sails appear ahead of the ship, and the lookout (one of the men from the Lillend) identifies one as the ship's boat left with the settlers. Pamodae scowls but keeps her ship on course.
"Maybe they found another," she mutters. "Or maybe we're going to meet these cannibals face to face. Signal danger!" She shouts the order, and signal flags are raised.
As the shore ahead comes into sight, the two small boats seem to vanish, but a few minutes later the narrow channel they used appears. The Wasp's Sting races towards it.
"Is it deep?" the captain shouts, but her lookouts shake their heads. As you near the land, you see narrow strings of smoke rising from the forest, as though a village lay hidden in the trees, and then figures appear on the beach. They are too small to make out details, but one races to the entrance to the channel, waving a yellow cloth.
"She's gone!" the lookout cries, and sure enough, the other sail is dwindling in the distance. The captain barks orders, and the crew furls sails, slowing the ship as it approaches land. The people on the shore cheer the sight of Absalom's flag flying overhead, and the sailors cheer in return, the voyage over. As the anchor drops, the ship's boat is lowered, and among the first passengers to be brought ashore are Donatello and Ysanne.
===========
Newspring
The afternoon is nearly done when a strange bleating sound is heard, and for a moment, nobody can identify it. Then it seems Hobie Grimm finds his pitch and the bleating resolves into a blast of warning. One by one, the people of Newspring realize what they are hearing, and those who have weapons gather them and head towards the beach. The rest gather behind the Thayer's incomplete walls.
Those who make their way to the beach see a sail approaching. The fishersentients have sailed into the shallow cove where the spring empties, and the guards are forming up on the beach, Edmund Thayer brings some of the guard into line on the beach while the rest rush back to Newspring, following Hobie Grimm's orders.
Manari stands on the top of the last dune overlooking the water, stringing her bow as calmly as if there was not a sail on the horizon. Melilla is already in the water, the waves splashing at her knees as she glowers at the fast approaching ship, and Sai stands beside Manari on the dune, squinting at the approaching ship. Then she calls out.
"The flag of Absalom!" and sure enough, as the ship comes closer, it becomes clear that she is flying the flag of Absalom. A fast caravel, she keeps all her sails up until she nearly runs aground, but the crew and captain seem to know their business as they drop anchor and lower a boat.
A lean, middle-aged woman in a tricorne is at the prow of the boat, and she hops off onto the beach as the boat scrapes sand.
"Captain Pamodae, of the Wasp's Tail," she says, loudly enough to be heard by all who have gathered. "Captain Kynack of the Laughing Lillend sends his regards."
Those who made the original crossing on the Lillend recognize one of the oarsmen as Mosely.
Fishersentients
Vallen is showing Sharpeyes the art of cold-forging when he hears the strange bleating noise, which startles him. His large eyebrows immediately furrow, and he sets his hammer down. The horns...? Passes through his mind, exiting the lean-to and looking towards the beach, cupping a hand over his ear. The warning bleats confirm his fears, and he spins so fast on his heel that if his beard was not clasped to his robe, it may have been torn off.
The dwarf takes off his leather apron and begins to put his leather armor on, cursing as he strings up the sleeves. Elves? Dwarves? More undead? Kuru? Torag, please let this pass, and pass f or the best. He grabs his warhammer and slides it into his beltloop, shield, and crossbow all at ready.
He arrives after the others on the beach, and looks out over the bay, lifting a hand to shield his eyes against the lowering glare of the sun. Sucking in his breath at the sight of an approaching ship, the cleric says another of the several prayers he has been repeating over the past several minutes. He joins Manari and Sai near the dune, face grim- Vallen nearly jumps out of his skin when Sai yells in her impressively loud voice, the fear immediately replaced by a rush of relief flowing through him. Torag, you have truly blessed this community. We are not forgotten! They come for us!
Moving up to the beach with the others, he meets the boat as it scraps the bottom of the beach. Is that.. Mosely? He briefly thinks before focusing his attention on the Captain.
He attempts to speak, but his voice cracks and he is forced to clear his throat. The voice that follows is a normal, if a bit unsteady, baritone. "Captain Pamodae... We welcome you to Newspring, our humble home in this new world. You... you are a sight many feared we would not see again." The priest approaches and extends his hand in greeting, giving her a smile. "I am Vallen Silverclasp, servant of Torag, stonemason, sculptor, blacksmith... ah... as you humans say, wearer of many hats." He chuckles softly at his small joke, before folding his hands in front of his grey robes.
"It has been a trying month since Captain Kynack left us, but through the blessings of Torag and every other god that our diverse group holds dear, we have survived. Food is scare, much blood has been spilled, and all here have lost more than they wish to admit. We have made substainal progress in building are little town, but so much work remains to be done. But you... you represent a new hope for us. You are a blessing." His voice gets louder now, and he goes into sermon mode, noticing that the others were listening to his rambling.
"We have not been forgotten! The Laughing Lillend has made its journey, and our loved ones, our benefactors, and the world shall know of our struggles! Our strength! We are not alone here! Three cheers for Captain Pamodae and the crew of Wasp's Tail!" The dwarf yells, thrusting his fist in the air.
Exhaling at the end of his impromptu speech that was as much to reassure himself as the others, he smiles at the Captain, looking from the ship to the boat. "What do you bring us, Captain? And what do you seek? At this point, anything and everything is welcome, and while our means are meager, working together we can work out a deal." Hopefully the means to feed the more hungry mouths about to come ashore... Some steel... oh, Torag, some whiskey! Does she have whiskey?!
The dwarf glances around for Jarla, before realizing she must be with the others at the walls... My sister should handle any actual business negotiations... yes... Along with the Thayers... perhaps a town meeting, to discuss everything... The weight of the ruby ring feels heavy in his pocket, for it may be the only thing of substantial trade value in the town.
Septimus arrives at the beach faster than most, but isn't as easily seen as most, hiding himself where he could flank potential enemies.
Once it is clear that these are friendly people, he emerges from cover.
"i am named Septimus, resident healer of this small town."
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"To come all this way..." Ysanne trails off and abandons whatever thought she was sharing and starts suddenly, "I could use a little excitement."
Don starts to answer when the captain signals Danger
"Looks like your wish is granted." he says, scrambling to his feet and stowing the rope end he was working on. A last look over the stern at the oncoming ship and then he turns back."D'you mind looking after me dog?"
By that point stations are being called and he hurries to report for duty.
When they start up the channel he rushes to the prow. His spell might only buy them a few feet, but that might be enough. He starts assembling the focal component when the captain orders sails furled.
Donatello breathes out slowly in relief. Once again he fumbles for a smoke, and once again he remembers being banned from fire.
Being thrown overboard here wouldn't be so bad... but just have to wait another couple of minutes...
He promises himself he'll be on the first boat.
===========
One of the rowers is a tall, weathered man garbed in leather: leather boots, a thick leather duster, a leather hat and leather pants, the last weighed down with pouches. Over his shoulder is secured a musket, the once fine wood scarred with thousands of scratches and the barrel all but ruined by immersion in seawater.
He jumps out of the boat and helps to drag it safely up the beach. As soon as it is made safe he stops, bows to the captain
"Pleasure sailing under you Captain Pamodae", then reaches into a pocket and reverently draws a cigarette and lights it with a flint and steel. As the cigarette catches he slowly turns around taking everything in
[b]"Really is Paradise"
===========
With Captain Pamodae, Mosely, the weathered man in leather, and perhaps a few other sea faring types is an Ivory skinned woman with yellow speckled albino eyes shaded from the sun with a wide brimmed hat with a large pretty bow.
She shivers a bit in an attempt to pull the warmth of her robes tightly to her body as she steps down to the beach. At first she is a bit overwhelmed by the Newspring boat greeters that come, but it is a brief moment as she begins gossiping it up and introducing herself by her first name to anyone that so much as glances her way.
When Septimus introduces himself, Ysanne makes her way toward him, "Septimus, pleasure to meet you, I am Ysanne and..." Ysanne spins around to find her friend Donatello, and waves inattentively as she turns back to Septimus, "that there is my friend Donatello. I've heard such exciting things about Newspring, and came to live it instead of just hearing about it."
Sorala's wrapping up a lesson on future tense goblinoid verbal conjugation when three bleats reach Newspring. Looking around with her pupils in confusion, she watches as slowly the townsfolk start to sort things out. Down by the forge, she sees Vallen donning leather armor. Edmund, by the palisade's walls, barking orders to the guardsmen. Bern, standing by his father's sickbed, axe drawn, tense look on his face. Tatiya herding the children towards the fledgling fort. "Attack," the linguist says to no one in particular, the words coming out monotone, displaying little surprise, anger or fear. "We're under attack."
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She arrives at the beach not long after Septimus, clutching her staff in hand, and watches, first with horror, and then wonder, as the ship flying Absalom's flag comes into view, and some figures descend into a ship's boat. As her mind is want to do, it immediately starts turning, figuring out the problems that may come of this development. Saying aloud, again to no one and everyone, "Will our people try to leave on that ship? I - I don't think I can go. Will Garrack follow me back to Absalom?"
Jarred from her thoughts by Vallen's speech, Sorala looks onto the new arrivals. That drunken sailor, that had a hand in Garrack's death, however inadvertently. A weatherbeaten woman, obviously the captain, and next to her, a weathered man, clutching a flared metal tube with a wooden handle, smoking a tightly rolled cigarette. A small woman with red eyes, scarred and tattooed, and wearing a hat wrapped in a bow, perfect for a summer day at the park. Many thoughts rush all at once to Sorala's lips and stop there, a single, strangled word making its way out. "How?"