Open Chronicles Gifts in the Grasslands

[Aeyliea]

"Permanent settlement we do not have," she said bluntly. The Anirian's ensured that there could be no such thing, for their Dreadlords and their army would descend swiftly upon such an easy target. "But to them I can lead you." She looked at the baggage train with a hard expression on her face, and then at the gathered envoy.

"You and a guard for your honor, no more than a dozen," she added. There was no sense in slighting them further unless there came to be a reason to do so, and a dozen people could hardly cause great harm - or even consider doing so - among the clan. The entire baggage train of the envoy surely couldn't have enough soldier hidden in it to slay an entire clan, but Aeyliea knew of many other ways that it could be done. Poison, disease, or high sorcery. She was confident of the shamans, but there were only so many among her people.

She cast a look in the direction the demon had gone, and made warding gestures after it. "Warning, they need, of this thing." And of you, she added in her head. She turned, and vaulted onto the back of her horse, giving them a smile that was all teeth while the animal pranced at the sudden weight on its back. She kicked it round in a tight circle, stirring dust into the air. "Deceit you shall not cause upon us."

 

[Ashuanar]

"You and a guard for your honor, no more than a dozen," she added.

"Very well then," he replied, "it will be as you say."

He turned and nodded to Mirielle, before mounting his steed once more and turning back to the caravan with she, Grozkalla, and their men. He thought it best to have Grozkalla return with the caravan to ensure its safety given this thing in their midst. But he also thought it prudent to bring him, given his apparent relationship with the grasslander.

By the time they'd returned he made his decision. The caravan would start a return trip, and then once far out of sight were to find a strategic location, circle the wagons and watch for their return. If the monster returned, they were to leave. Grozkalla would be coming with them.

Then they left to rendezvous with Aeyliea, their numbers just less than a dozen total. He felt that between the three of them, their men, and the Band of Serqet, there was little trouble they could not at least get away from if neccesary. A contingent thought, for he felt little reason to distrust this grasslander to such a deceptive degree.

Aeyliea Mirielle Merlon Gerra

 

[Mirielle Merlon]

Aeyliea Ashuanar Gerra

As Mirielle rode along in silence, she pondered potential curses. The boons of the Serpent Gods could parallel some common magic, but she wouldn't be raising shields or throwing fireballs anytime soon. In a combat situation, she had only the ideas she prepared or thought of on the fly. And the bigger the boon, the more it had to align with the Serpent Gods' preferences.

Not that she expected to need the capacity for violence, but the grassland demon could return, or the tribes could take offense, or something else might interfere. She preferred kept a good curse in her back pocket whenever possible.

 

[Gerra]

Grozkalla plodded along in the rear, thinking of when he should take a whetstone to the great two-handed sword on his back. But it was made of Sereti steel and would seldom lose its edge, though the way he used it -sheering through men and horse legs - gave it greater wear.

Horse flesh.

He clutched a hand to his rumbling stomach.

“Mmmm.”

 

[Rebecca Fourtuna]

She watched from a safe distance.

They were going to a “tribe.”. Her ears twitched.

What did that mean..

She knew what that meant..

Why couldn’t she reme-

Her rational train of thought halted with a searing pain drilling into her head.

Instinct, rage, and hunger were all her brain would allow. A nasty wound in the top of her head leaking with sand nestled in her fur. A curse not fully removed and allowing her demon state to take over completely.

What the words meant didn’t matter anyway.

She knew of this word meaning a larger group. She had visited others in the area though not this particular one yet.

These large groups were always moving but their sweet stench called to her like meat over an open fire.

Some had seen her in the nights.

They were called crazy for a time until some began going missing in the dark of night.

Some saw her red eyes in the grass.

Others spoke of the scent of decay and the rotting long grass as signs of a curse.

They began to call her “Man Eater.” Or “Zodya.” In their tongue.

This new tribe would be next. So much food...Sweet flesh all in one place...

Her tail flicked with happy anticipation as she cloaked and moved through the long grass as silently as a wraith.

Never being close enough to be spotted or pose a threat, but never did they leave her sight.