Ujarak closes the door and retreats into the hut for a conference with Cyiriphrain, Cedric, and Ward. He gives them a synopsis of the negotiations, finishing with, "You'd think they'd be more careful with the property of their goddess."
"I will hazard a guess that we're all due for sacrifice. The only question is whether they'll take the weak, the healthy, or all of us together first."
Rish moves around the fire to peer at the map. ”It will be on this side of the island based on the position of the sunrise, don’t you think?”
”You’re right, of course, caves and waves make for some surprising echoes. But I’d rather find a dry path through the point to the next beach than swim that tide again. I won’t wander off until you fellows are ready, but I’m ready to explore.”
"Gather round, all, "Cyriphrain says, kneeling near the worst injured. From under his damp tunic, he draws his holy symbol and bows his head.
"Guide us all on the path toward perfection," he prays, channeling to heal the injured around him.
"Sacrifice?" squeaks Cedric.
Rish looks up quickly, toward the back of the cave where they haven’t looked yet. ”Footsteps!”
He quickly moves away from the fire and into the shadows of the cave in hopes of seeing the newcomer before being seen.
Once in position, he will try to use his darkvision to identify the newcomer.
"Sacrifice?"
"If it was slavery, they'd have put the healthy among us to work already," Ujarak deadpans.
[quote = "Brother-Captain Cyriphrain "]"Gather round, all, "Cyriphrain says, kneeling near the worst injured. From under his damp tunic, he draws his holy symbol and bows his head.
"Guide us all on the path toward perfection," he prays, channeling to heal the injured around him.
"Thank you, Brother, although Perfection has been more help in the past. Maybe the old gods are stronger in the north? Or maybe our own spirits are weak."
" I will try talking to them again. With luck, they are saving us for a holy day, and not a feast this afternoon."
Ujarak steps to the door, but doesn't open it. He flattens himself against the wall beside the door frame.
Ujarak again approaches the door, but doesn't open it
He presses himself against the wall beside the door frame and speaks again in Allam.
"Sister, you are fierce and beautiful. A mother bear would be no less noble. Twelve years I've lived among the caribou does of the south. Let a doomed man gaze on you."
One Rish informs him of the footsteps the elf starts standing up and picking up his spear. Noticing that Rish is taken hiding he decides to act as bait and since these are likely non hostiles someone to approuch while still having the tactical advantage. So he simply positions himself next to the fire the spear casually leaning against his shoulder.
Walker moves to the side of the fire closest to the mouth of the cave and furthest from the footsteps.
They don't look like especially impressive combatants. They are unarmoured, dressed in threadbare clothes and carrying clubs that look more like fishing gaffs than genuine weapons of war. They all have straight dark hair and pale skin marked with tattoos.
The door is thrust aside and the man storms in, club raised.
Before Urajak approaches the door, Cyriphrain will indeed throw another channel.
then...
Kaerishidlon shakes his head slightly to himself, not understanding the language or whether the newcomers are aggressive or just startled.
He stays quiet and prepared to engage if the locals(?) try to start something. Wonder if a big cat would be worthy of worship or just lunch on these islands.
Daenan raises his free hand with palm outwards in a calming gesture. "I do not speak your tongue." The elf notes before changing to different languages with fairly short paces. His spear is then lowered, the man does it slowly and with one hand trying to make it clear he isn't about to attack and then starts to use the point to draw on the ground.
Walker observes, saying, "They show signs of fear that they are attempting to mask."
Should have seen this coming.
Ujarak moves forward, trying to step inside the savage's striking range.
Meanwhile, the woman is yelling in her native tongue.
[spoiler=Aubrey, Ujarak]
"You shall not strike!" Cyrpiphrain declares, calling on divine power to Forbid Action
There is a stalemate for a few seconds, then the group confer for a moment. They then turn around and head back into the cave, casting anxious glances behind them.
The warrior shrugs off Cyriphrain's spell.
Cedric gives a yell, grabs a brand from the fire and shoves it at the warrior's face, although he dodges easily out of the way.
When they are out of earshot, Rish says in a low voice, ”They seemed pretty scared. Outnumbering you, they still refused to approach until you threw down your weapons. I’m going to go out on a limb and say they are not fighters unless pressed. And they don’t see a lot of strangers.”
Still in his hiding spot in case one looks back, you can hear amusement in his voice as he says, ”I wondered how it would influence them if you had a totem animal. A large cat, for example.”
Determined that taking the weapon out of the fight is his only chance, Ujarak tries to close and grapple the warrior again.
"I say we give them sometime to make their exit so they don't think we are pursuing before heading deeper outselves. We are still missing lot of people, including our ward. Probably good idea to keep an eye out for ambush just in case."
He pauses, and it's easy to imagine he's grinning at the prospect.
"OK, I'll keep a lookout in case they are just getting greater numbers, but I hope they know someone that speaks our language and just went to get him or her. Waiting seems wise - no need to push them into something rash."
"Maybe we should pick a narrow spot in the cave to use as a chokepoint, just in case the fellows decided to not get a translator but fighters. And since we will be waiting, either of you help me get my armor on please."
[ooc]Cyriphrain.
Kaerishidlon steps back out of the shadows, saying, ”Oh, don’t worry, my friend! I would use my new divine status to protect my friends. Just play your cards right...”
As he begins to examine the floor of the cave, he adds, ”Walker, if you can aid our soldier with his armor, I will see if I can answer your question. That sort of thing is why Daenan puts up with my foolishness, after all.”
Keeping one eye on the tunnel for company, Rish will see if he can get a feeling for how often the tunnel is used and by how many.
The group wait after the party of locals has departed. After perhaps ten minutes there is a crunch as some more people approach through the cave. A middle-aged man emerges, his long grey hair tied back. He wears a breastplate and a fine cloak of brown feathers and in his hand he carries a staff of gnarled driftwood. His face and arms are extensively tattooed in swirling shapes, as are those of the six warriors flanking him. They are dressed in leather armour and hold war clubs. One of the fisherfolk the adenturers had encountered before lurks at the back of the group, hunched and servile.
The older man, clearly the leader, walks out and looks coldly at Walker, Rish and Daenan. In heavily accented Common he says, "You were brought here by the sea. You belong to her now. Surrender."
When he saw the new arrivals approaching, Rish warned his fellows and stepped away from them and the fire.
At the imperious greeting and following Daenan's reply, Rish holds up his hands in a placating gesture (not a gesture of surrender) to both of them and says to the befeathered fellow, "I am so happy to meet you, sir! Your command of another language is a sign of an intelligent man. Your dress and attitude are signs of a leader. I suspect that is a sign of a wise man. Personally, I'm not terribly intelligent or wise, but I think if the sea was claiming us, she wouldn't have thrown us up on the beach." He pauses, hoping someone found humor in that.
He continues, "I'm afraid our appearance startled your fishermen, but with no common language, we couldn't assure them that we wished them no harm. I hope you can relay the message that we do not seek to hurt anyone."
He replies to Daenan in their native tongue, "Right?"
He readies an action to shape into his feline form if the natives attack.
There is the crack of leathery wings and then claws scrabbling in rock. A massive dragon, its hide the colour of snow, clambers over the headland to perch above the cave entrance where the man stands. He glances up unconcernedly as the dragon sizes up each of the adventurers individually. Its gaze lingers of Daenan.
"I will not repeat myself," says the man.
"No I take you for a dead man." Daenan replies pulling back his spear to attack.
Before aggression begins, Rish gazes up and offers, "Now that's a horse of a different color. No offense, master drake, it's just a figure of speech, of course..."