"Sounds good to me. I'd rether not lug all of this junk around with us into a swamp. Might give us a little more time to figure out this mep, too." Erimriel trudges along behind the others.
Upon returning to camp, the group can see that the workers have indeed been to work today, and have put together four separate latrines about a hundred feet from the river, with a line of freshly dug earth running the intervening distance.
"Ah, aboot time ye got back!" Dolgrin calls out as you all approach into the firelight. "We got tha shi'ers up an' runnin'! That'll 'elp with tha smell an' such while we get ta work. Ah 'ad 'em put 'em downstream o' where Ah figger tha' well will be. Doubted ye wanted ta be drinkin' yer own piss an' such! HA!" Dolgrin calls out as spots you approaching before the firelight can warm your cheeks. "Come on o'er an' grab ye some grub. Was jus' aboot ta give up on ye fer the night!" He eyes the newcomer to the camp and asks, "So...'oos yer friend?"
__________
The next morning, you all awaken to a restful nights sleep, with no disturbances. The workers seem to have grown more comfortable staying in the wilderness, and Dolgrin is busying himself over some blueprints on his worktable.
"How very thoughtful of you, Dolgrin. I knew we were blessed when such a wise dwarf was sent with us to this wilderness!" Serafina chuckles, her sarcasm evident. "Oh, this gentleman? His name is Miloslav, and he has also been chartered to tame this land, though it seemed the land had tamed him for a time." A dark eyebrow rises, amusement etched on her features.
"Grub, you said? How delightful...I'm starving." She digs in with relish, surprised at how hungry she was. She had grown soft while scampering about in the towns and villages of the region, she realizes.
As the camp dies down, she sets to work, pulling out an empty parchment page and a vial of ink, getting to work putting a spell down on paper.
After she awakens and has a bite to eat, Serafina studies the map for a moment before shrugging. "I suppose following the river is a good course, for now. At least there is plenty of water to drink."
After several hours covering the intervening distance between camp and the unexplored region, you finally reach what appears to be the edge of a lake. The East Sellen River appears to empty into this large body of water, and the opposite shore cannot be seen from here.
With the help of the map, it takes roughly a day and a half to traverse this swampy region. The area is filled with wildlife, but none all too pleasant. Snakes and leeches abound, as well as a large number of bothersome insects.
The following day is much the same as the previous, but the swamp feels darker and more oppressive. Eventually, as night falls, the thick swamp canopy blocks out most of the light and forces you to make camp.
__________
At some point during the day, Sasha re-summons Arctalan and heals the remainder of his wounds with his healing spell.
As they prepare to make camp, Sasha remarks, "This sure is a drab place. I suppose it comes with the territory." He and Arctalan help with putting up the camp before he dismisses the Eidolon and goes to sleep.
Each morning Andrezi wakes up, groggy as usual and about an hour or two after everyone else, and starts his day with a small amount of coffee and a few waffles made from his supply of travel cake mix.
After his morning routine (coupled with him preparing spells, if needed) and after the group sets off, Andrezi is the one in the front, pointing out various wildlife and insect life as they pass by it, ensuring no one falls behind, gets separated from the group, and even going as far as to catch the occasional frog or other small animal to eat later. Though he sleeps heavily, doesn't talk about much beyond what they see and hear and eats wierd things, he overall acts like a good guide.
"Marshes are often like that, Aleksandr. Full of bugs, venomous things, diseases, and all sorts of creepy-crawleys, its not the nicest place to be in. Although following the river was a good idea, I can't help but regret doing so now with all the -" He suddenly stops talking and lunges forward towards something. A second later he stands up, a nice plump frog wiggling in his hands. "Frog legs for dinner!"
"Stay on your toes, friends. I've got the feeling that we're being watched," Miloslav warns. He has conducted himself admirably for a former city dweller over the last couple of days. He doesn't have the knowledge of Andrezi but he seems to have mastered basic survival skills, and keeps any complaints he might have quiet. He spends most of the time scanning the groups' surroundings as they walk, trying to make sure nothing sneaks up on them.
"Yes, we certainly are.," Erimriel seconds in agreement with Miloslav. "I do not believe something thet would stalk us intends to make friends with us, either. End I do not believe frogs sound much like a worthwhile meal." She grimaces as their guide comes up with the slimy little creature thrashing and squirming in his hands.
Allowing her eyes to wander idly as they continue walking, though wary of some sort of ambush, Erimriel remarks to no one in particular, "I bet those Tiger people would be fun to screp with. Funner then those bendits, certainly. End they hed the good sense not to live in a sticky pit of. . . sticky. . . things. I do not think I like swamps." Nose turning up slightly at the fetid odor that clings to the air and everything beneath—especially the muck—Erimriel eventually turns to Serafina. "You mentioned you know some of the legends of this place, yes? Are there mighty beasts or old ruins somewhere in this place? Maybe a haunted crypt or swamp cestles?"
The first two watches pass uneventfully.
__________
The next couple of days are spent exploring the grasslands west of the swamp. After two days of traveling and mapping out the grasslands, the ground slowly begins to roll and eventually transitions from tall grassy plains to gently rolling hills. The first day of travel here goes by uneventful, but on the morning of the second day, as the group prepares to break camp, Arctalan nudges at Sasha and points to the horizon. Everyone's attention is soon enough settled on the silhouettes there.
There are fifteen men on horseback roughly three hundred feet away. They have some sort of banners flying at their sides and backs, but with the sun behind them, it is difficult to make out details.
After a few moments, they begin riding down towards the group, and slowly more details can be made out. The banners are in fact painted over the top of the striped furs of tigers. Their horses are painted as well, as if they bore long claw marks along their flanks.
The lead rider, a large, muscle bound man wearing hide armor and carrying a brutal looking axe in his hand, reins of his horse in the other, scowls at the gathered adventurers as they approach. They stop about fifty feet out, and he calls out:
__________
Erimriel cannot understand what the brute says, but she steps out before the others to adopt a tentatively aggressive stance. She glances quickly over her shoulder to see if any of her companions can understand his words.
"They say this is Tiger Lord lands, and we must speak or die." Sasha quickly translates for his companions.
Serafina looks at the barbarians with dismay. Her social repertoire, including spells, requires that the recipient understand what she is saying. Taking a chance, she calls out, "We are but weary travelers who sought a place to stay for the evening. We were unaware of this being Tiger Lord lands, and will depart immediately if that is the leader's desire." She gives the man a friendly smile, and if he doesn't seem to comprehend, she nods to Sasha to translate.
Rahaal bites her lower lip when Serafina lies so blithely. She motions for Sasha not to immediately translate and looks to see if there's any indication they understood Serafina.
Andrezi understands the man perfectly but refrains from speaking at the time being. He cocks an eyebrow at Serafina's response and scratches his beard, looking to appear to be thinking on something.
Serafina continues to wear her smile, turning her gaze upon Rahaal. "These big strong types always need to be in charge and intimidating. By acting deferential, we are playing to what he expects. There will be time for negotiating, assuming they don't attack us outright." She gives the woman a confident grin before turning back to the brute.
The man at the front of the riders leers down on the group of you, chattering among yourselves, and barks out another string of harsh toned words:
"Ich sagte, sprechen Sie Würmer!"
__________
She again flashes her smile at the leader, nodding at Sasha with her eyes widened. She hisses at him under her breath, "Tell them what I said, or tell them something!"
Rahaal steps forward and signals Sasha to come beside her. She speaks slowly--leaving time for the young summoner to translate--and keeps her eyes on the leader.
"Greetings, Tiger Lords. I am Rahaal bat Sawai." She holds up the golden key of Abadar around her neck, and then points to her compatriots. "We represent the Swordlords of Restov.
"I believe we have some shared goals--and shared enemies--and would like to discuss terms for cooperation."
The man stares Rahaal down for a moment, until Sasha begins to translate. He listens to what she has to say before answering.
"Sie sprechen für diesen einen, Kind? Sie behauptet, dass wir Feinde. Sie hat recht. Und sie alle haben vor unserer Macht zerquetscht worden, und diejenigen, die nicht bald genug zu fallen. Was bedeutet das Band der Frauen und Kinder denken, die Krieger der Raging Klaue an?"
"What is he saying Aleksandr?" Miloslav asks. He looks extremely tense. "These are fighting men, best we just leave and don't anger them since they outnumber us and are mounted."
Swallowing (with as brave a face as she can muster), Rahaal listens to Sasha's translation and then continues. "We are more powerful than you might imagine," she gestures toward Arctalan (hoping his otherworldly appearance will be as impressive to them as it is to her) "But we seek no conflict with the Raging Claws. As you most likely know, there are bandits in your territory that call themselves the Stag Lords. We recently defeated some, not far from here."
"We propose that we help to root out these supposed Stag Lords. Furthermore, if you are ever in need of a healer, this one--" she gestures at Andrezi "--would be available, should you desire his assistance.
"In exchange, we ask your leave for us to operate on your land until this mutual threat has been eliminated. At that point we can discuss if there are future arrangements that could be of mutual benefit. What say you, Raging Claws?"
The man scoffs as the Stag Lords are mentioned. He reaches to his pouch and removes several chains with pendants similar to the one you found on Miloslav's captors. "Sie denken, dass die mickrigen Menschen dieses "Stag Herrn befohlen erschrecken uns? Wir haben jede Gruppe seiner Männer haben wir konfrontiert sind, mit wenig Aufwand getrieben. Es gibt nicht einmal Sport drin."
He returns the chains to his pouch as he adds, "Unser Clan hat Heiler unserer eigenen, so dass Sie nichts, was man uns Recht der Durchfahrt anzubieten."
His tone grows more harsh as he continues, "Sie sündigen für unser Land, und lassen Sie Ihre Leute Gebäudestrukturen als ob Sie sie gehört. Spielen Sie nicht, uns für dumm verkaufen, haben wir Ihr Lager gesehen. Waffen fallen lassen. Chef Tikron Ihr Schicksal entscheiden."
After hearing Sasha's translation Rahaal looks left and right slowly, unwilling to make the decision about what to say next without involvement from her compatriots.
"S*~$. We should do as he says," Miloslav says, throwing his own sword on to the ground. "Did you all know that the fort was on their land?"
Erimriel grins knowingly to everyone else and begins disarming. Overeager as she is to get into a scrap, she's still smart enough to realize fifteen men on horseback in an open plain is not a fight they can win.
"I did not know there was even such a thing es a Tiger Lord until Serafina mentioned it a couple nights beck. I hev not seen any settlements along the river either. But it's probably best not to argue thet when we are so plainly outnumbered." Erimriel waits expectantly for the others to follow suit. She doesn't particularly feel like dying at the moment, but if it comes to that, she'll go out fighting.
Sasha throws down his spear and dagger, but remains mounted on Wanderer. "Nehmen Sie mit uns, um Ihre Häuptling dann."
At this, Andrezi steps forward and speaks at last, "Mein Begleiter spricht nur Teilwahrheiten, Freunde. Ich bin mehr als nur ein Heiler; Mein Name ist Andrezi ein Harrower. Desna hat uns einander für eine Vernunft geleitet, lasst uns das Beste daraus zu machen, sollen wir? Vielleicht anstelle eines Heiler oder eine Führung als der Nutzen für Sie, würden Sie stattdessen gerne Ihre Zukunft? Selbst die mächtigen Hirsch Lords unterliegen den fantasievollen Launen der Desna, wie wir alle sind." During his little speech he makes sure to bow to Tiger Lord in charge of this group, but keeps his eyes focused on the man.
Unlike his companions, Andrezi appears completely unarmed and unarmored, except for a few flasks hanging upon his bandolier. Regardless, he doesn't appear to be frightened by these Tiger Lords, and instead speaks with confidence.
Serafina tosses her dagger to the ground, then unstraps her crossbow and tosses it down, as well. Speaking to Miloslav, "Of course we didn't! I thought their lands were further to the west, in the hills."
The woman's eyes narrow as Andrezi steps forward and begins speaking in the strange tongue. "Telling them how best to get a good night's rest?" She crosses her arms, waiting for the barbarians to come forward and claim their arms before they go to see this Chief of theirs.
Andrezi slightly turns his head to Serafina as he replies to her, though he keeps his eyes on the Tiger Lords. "Sure, we can go with that. I am, afterall, quite knowledgable in such matters, am I not?"
Onions, meanwhile, keeps close to Andrezi, fearful of becoming a meal for the Tiger Lords. The overburdened goat hides behind his master's more confident stature and bleats a few times.
"If there were ever an authority on the matter he stands before me, I am certain."
The warriors gather your weapons and bind the hands of everyone of you. These bindings are then fastened to ropes and you are each forcefully led through the hills to west. After several hours of this grueling forced march, you come to a small village of long, wooden houses and huts. A small crowd gathers around as you enter, muttering to each other in hushed, excited whispers.
You are taken to the largest of the long houses, and the warriors all dismount and prod you through the doorway and inside. There, you see a moderate sized bonfire, its smoke rising through an opening in the center of the room. Within the room are various long tables with some more warriors seated around them, all of which rise and study you all appraisingly.
Beyond the fire sits an older warrior, who clearly at one time was a strong man, but age has taken its toll on his body. His white beard is thick and intricately braided, with adornments of gold within it.
The leader of the capturing war party approaches this man and bows his head somewhat and says: "Chieftain. Wir fanden eine andere Band der Eindringlinge auf unsere Äcker. Wie Sie befahl, sie waren am Leben dieser Zeit gefangen."
The old man raises a hand and nods, and looks at you all one at a time, before saying, "Which of you is the leader?"
The forced march, though annoying, doesn't tax her overmuch. She tests the strength of their bonds a couple of times, not enough to break but to measure what her odds of escaping in a hurry might be should the need arise. Erimriel pities Rahaal for the trip they're forced to endure, panting and struggling from a covering of armor she's not comfortable wearing. A thought to ask their captors for a moment occurs to her, but she reconsiders it. Probably best to just get it over with. They seemed like the sort of might-makes-right brutes from Garlynde's homelands he used to talk about.
She's intrigued by the Tiger Lords. They seem like a bunch of grim brutes, but here sits an entire community. It's sometimes easy to look past the humanity of one's apparent enemies, but being confronted by it is something else altogether. Erimriel is forced to admit to herself begrudgingly that it seems an enticing way of life. . . except for the part where they march strangers for hours across hills bound and disarmed.
When the apparent chieftain questions the group, Erimriel jerks her hands in Rahaal's direction. "I don't know if she is our leader, but thet one talks a lot." The question hadn't occurred to her up to this point. Did they even have a leader?
The trip overland wears on Sasha considerably, he's never been strong, but he somehow makes it through. He is, however, rather surprised that these barbarians don't simply kill them for 'summoning demons' or somesuch garbage. Perhaps these barbarians are somewhat more civilized than the peasants that killed his step-parents.
"Wir sind eine Gruppe von Gleichgestellten. Es gibt keine Führer unter uns. Nur zwei von uns sprechen Hallit jedoch." Sasha explains.
Serafina trembles as her hands are bound, her fear threatening to overwhelm her. Throwing in her weapons had been easy, as her magic was her 'secret' weapon. With her hands tied, she could no longer make the intricate movements needed to cast, and was just as helpless as the rest of them. Tears threaten to spill down her cheeks as she endures the forced march quietly.
Unused to the strenuous physical activity, her thighs and calves are burning by the end of the march, her fear still there, but subsided a bit. Irony has replaced it, in part. She had survived bouts of banditry and brief forays into civilization, only to likely meet her end at the hands of barbarians while trying to tame this land. When brought before the chief and suddenly realizing they might not be killed outright, she brightens immediately, especially when the chief speaks to them in Common.
She hears Erimriel's response to the chief, then Sasha speaking some Hallit gobbledagook she can only assume is his own response. "Each of us takes the lead as needed, great one. None speak for the group as a whole at this time."
Rahaal--breath still ragged, bruised beneath her armor from stumbling more than once on the force march--replies, "It is as she says," nodding to Serafina. "but I, Rahaal bat Sawai, servant of Abadar, will speak to you in good faith regarding our actions and plans. You can trust this faithful servant of the Judge of Gods to keep my word and to negotiate in good faith."
After another labored breath, she adds "Ask what you will. It is my hope that--mighty as you are--we might find terms of alliance that would serve the mighty Tiger Lords."
B@$#*. Serafina's eyes narrow at Rahaal as the woman speaks. Perhaps it wasn't meant to be implied, but it certainly seemed like the priestess was taking the lead to prevent a 'bad faith' negotiation by the sorceress. She relaxes a bit while mulling this over. The woman had seen Serafina lie and exaggerate multiple times, so maybe a little soul-searching might be in order.
The dark-haired sorceress takes a half-step back, deferring to the cleric of Abadar and placing her fate in the woman's hands.
The witch takes the overland trip surprisingly well, though his feet and legs ache considerably. He keeps his spirits up the entire time, however, going as far as to continue to identify plants, animals, and geographic features to the rest of the group as they’re forced along. He occasionally attempts to casually speak with the various Tiger Lords in their native tongue, but after a few rebuttals, he ceases that particular activity.
Thankfully, unbeknownst to everyone else, Andrezi is still fully armed, having kept a well-hidden blade in his wrist-sheath on his arm, kept unnoticed beneath his furs and heavy clothing. Not that he’s any good with it, however. His other wrist-sheath holds his Harrow deck, also well-hidden.
--------
Andrezi nods, ”Was die Verhandlungen betrifft, so glaube ich, würden wir alle auf Rahaal Rechnung, der sich unserem Vertreter. Ich bin Andrezi, der Gruppe Führer und Heiler.” The fur-clad Varisian gives a deep, respectful bow to the old man, before stepping back a pace.
Miloslav spends the journey cursing his luck to be captured twice so soon after setting out to prove his nobility. He was lucky to be rescued the first time, and doesn't think it's going to happen again. Of course he cannot understand the barbarians who have captured them either, which does nothing to improve his mood. Once they are brought to audience with the Tiger Lord chieftain, he decides it's best for him to remain quiet and allow the others to do the talking. While they do that, he looks for possible escape routes, or weapons that he could steal.
The chieftain looks on at the indecision of the group with disdain, but as it appears the captives settle on naming Rahaal as their leader, his focus rests on her and her alone.
"Then speak with me, child. Why is it that you and your people continue to travel the lands of the Raging Claw Clan of the Tiger Lords as if they were your own? This is the second group my warriors have encountered, and I am told you put up less of a fight than the first. So speak, Servant of the Judge-God. And choose your words wisely, as your words carry with it the weight of the fate of you and your clan."
Remaining stoic and quiet, Erimriel surveys the gathering of their clansmen as the chieftain continues speaking with Rahaal. It doesn't look like any of them have a damn clue what is being said. She's too slow to piece together if that's good or bad, but she assumes for the moment it isn't good. Hopefully their leader isn't as tempestuous as his subordinates. She catches one of their number giving her a stare-down as the discussion carries on, and returns the look with an unsettling grin.
Serafina is secretly glad Rahaal is handling things, as her first instinct would likely be to attempt to charm the man. Which, if failed, would spell a quick demise for all of them. At the chief's surprisingly gentle choice of words, she smiles at the man, alternating her gaze between the chief and the cleric, hoping she looks timid and pliable.
Sasha maintains his quiet composure, hoping Rahaal can talk them out of this somehow. The young summoner's social skills were esentially reduced to getting people to leave him alone through their fear of his 'demon', which he surmised would only get them killed here.