A Camp with Company

The sun is now setting on the most fortunate of days.  I'll tell how I fared with these travellers.

As I was hunkered underneath a bush, I heard the voices going past, well out of sight.  They were much closer to the river than I, but I heard them stop.  They were talking about food, and their talk was somewhat subdued.  I could hear them, but not make out what they were saying.  I just listened for a few moments - there seemed to be at least four different voices.  Then it went much quieter.  I thought to myself "they're eating, now's my chance", so I rose from my hiding place and quietly walked over.

I did well to move so quietly, I was almost into their camp before I blew it.  They'd stopped by the edge of the river, and were eating cold trail rations, and I'd caught a couple of glimpses of them through the bushes before they heard me.  There was a fuss ahead of me, one of them shouted with a food-filled mouth 'What was that!'.  It was followed by the immediate, sphincter loosening sound of people standing and swords being drawn.  I made a split second decision - I could have run, I could have buried myself back in the undergrowth.  But I didn't.  Perhaps I was sick of the constant cold, or the lack of company, or maybe I could smell the dried meat they were eating.  I stood up to my full height and walked boldly into their camp.

I was confronted with a sight I will not forget for any time soon.  Ahead of me were five Hznaman, the two closest to me were tall men, one in chain mail and the other in a kind of scale mail that I'd not seen before.  They had swords drawn.

Behind them was another man wearing a breastplate over what appeared to be a chain mail shirt.  Alongside him was a shorter, more wiry man in leather armour, and right at the back, still getting up, was another man.  He was dressed in finery, perhaps, I thought, he was some kind of noble.

When I started to march forward I had every intention of greeting them loudly and clearly and offering my hand of friendship, but when I saw this sight I just raised my hands above my head and I said 'I surrender'; the sound of my voice is something I'd not heard for days, and it was dry and crackly.  I was done - I didn't realise just how tired and cold I was, but at that moment I was ready to give up everything.  I was exhausted.

To make matters worse the noble at the back started to laugh then immediately clamped down on it, forcing himself to be silent.  The wiry man looked me up and down, "We have been caught up by a vagrant.", he said.  "What a disgusting odour."

One of the warriors with the swords asked who I was, where I was from and what I was doing out here in the wilderness.  It didn't occur to me to even try to deceive them with any falsehood, I just told them the truth - I gave my name and I was from Gora, and I told them that I escaped the capture of Gurgam only a few days ago.

They took my sword and bow and invited me to into their camp.  None sat too close; I think I may have carry some of the stench of the Gurgam still in my clothes.  As I sat down, the warriors sat either side of me, and the man with the breastplate was the one who seemed to be doing the talking.  Before I spoke I noticed the symbols upon the clothing of the breast-plated man.  He seemed to be a priest of some kind, his symbols were familiar to me - he is with the Hznaman church of Danethrae, closely allied with our own religion of Czakzan-Annar (they call it Tyard-Annar).

I related a little of my story, how I'd been instructed to help the Gnaeblin, how fighting had broken out with the Gurgam, how I'd been swept up in it all, and how I'd been captured.  They didn't seem to understand what Gurgam were at first, but I explained.  They use a different name for these pests, they called them 'Gubbalins'.  They found it hard to believe how I had been kept alive by them, normally Gurgam kill their enemy.  They concluded that I must have some special status or value to them, that I was a prize.

They told me something of themselves.  The two warriors have been through more than a few scrapes together, and have been friends for many years, even since they were children.  They are both from a city far to the north called 'Keal', but they'd moved to Fornan Bay about five or more years ago.  This is a city we know of in Gora, it is a port where some of our exported minerals go.  The chain mailed warrior is named Kenner, and he has an almost Dzarraf sense of humour.  His friend in the scales is Daran, who is far more jovial and laughs easily.

The man in the breast plate is, indeed, a priest of the Church of Danethrae, his name is Mullory.  The other two are much quieter than these, but the noble is named Elenhugh and he seems to be the organiser and planner of the group, while the wiry man who hardly said a word while we were sat there goes by the name of Barr.  All these other three are from the city of Fornan Bay (and its surrounding districts, Elenhugh was keen to stress).  They've been working with the warriors for three years, they said, but Mullory joked that it seemed far longer.

As the stories went on, they became more relaxed and so did I.  We discussed what I did in the delve, how I'm a keeper of the peace and a finder of the truth.  This they identified with, I found it hard to keep anything from them - and I had no reason to.  I know of the Danethrae church and, if they are followers, then they can probably be trusted.  Mullory is a skilled interrogator, he wound me back over my story for different points of view time and again; I think he was looking for any deception that I might be pulling, but I remained truthful as far as I could.

They told me they are up in the hills because they'd heard talk of the Gurgam 'getting uppity' (Daran's words).  A Gnaeblin contingent had brought news of the problems a month ago, and they'd been on the road from Scourt Hills, on the other side of the mountains, for over a week.  When I told them that I could probably find my way back to a whole lair full of the disgusting creatures, they became very keen to invite me along.  Provided, they said, I wash the Gurgam smell out of my clothes.  Apparently Elenhugh has soap, but I think the others secretly disapprove.

We spent a couple of hours in that camp, they shared some food with me, but they did not let me have my weapons back.  They did tell me they'd consider it later if I were travelling with them, but for now I was to consider myself their 'guest'.  They said that if I really wanted them I could take my weapons back, but then they'd insist that I left their group - and I'd rather stay for the company.  And the opportunity to see some Gurgam getting hurt.

We left the camp, it was late afternoon.  I'd estimate we'd been there for three hours, the sun had certainly moved on.  We headed back up to the camp-site I'd used last night, and kept pressing on.  They selected somewhere to stop, they had tents but I did not.  We were right down by the river, and I was forced to take a wash.  While I was in the water they lit a small fire.  I though it a little smoky as I came out of the water.  I'd scrubbed my under-clothes as I'd washed but they were burning my outer woollens!

I was horrified.  I needn't have been though.  Barr took me to one side and handed me a spare pair of his trousers.  These are cloth, not wool, but have a lace-up front.  While he is taller an thinner than me, I pulled them on with little problem, turning up the legs at the bottom.  Elenhugh handed me a long thick woollen jumper that I believe had belonged to Kenner, they cut the sleeves short and it covered me nicely.  Despite being something of a patchwork, I felt comfortable for the first time in weeks.

Later in the evening we ate fresh rabbits that Barr had caught while the others prepared camp.  I didn't ask him how he did it, but I am intrigued.  I think their pace back up into the mountains will be much better than the easy pace in which I came down them.  They do not seem to want to be hanging about here for any length of time.

We're turning in very shortly - there is to be a watch and a long night's rest.  I still have my Gurgam cloak, and it's been washed out.  It's drying by the fire, so I may be a little cold tonight.  I've shown them how to hide their fire better so it's not seen from a huge distance away any more, and story-telling has begun.