Open Chronicles Home is where the hearthstone is

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There was something to be said about the early bird catching the worm, what it was, Kylie wasn't exactly sure. Why get up so early just to catch a worm when you could spend all day plucking seeds out of a freshly cut wheat field? Her uncle on the other hand seemed to think otherwise. Up before the sun, packed and ready to go. Never letting any moment of the day go to waste.

Kylie's uncle Balor sat next to her on the cart. He looked older than some would guess, or he would like to admit. With an almost completely white beard and hair, with most of that missing, and a look in his eyes that spoke of experience beyond his years. He quietly hummed a tune to himself as he guided the cart along a narrow path that lead down the mountain side. Kylie wasn't sure how high up they were, since the morning sun hadn't burned away the fog yet. A fog that obscured most of the path in front of them. She was glad it was her uncle steering and not her, then again it seemed like the old workhorse was doing most of the guiding, which she wasn't sure if that was much better.

Behind them were eight other carts, all loaded down with Dwarves and supplies, along with a lot of trade goods. All of them following her and her uncle on the hopes of finding a Dwarven outpost her grandfather had helped build well over a hundred years ago. An outpost where it was said that the silver just flaked off the walls. A few had followed in search of fortune, others just wanted to start a new life away from Belgrath. Much like Kylie and her uncle. No pressure, really, just leading a couple dozen Dwarves after a fabled Dwarven outpost was all.

As the sun began to rise further, the fog began to dissipate. In the distance, a faint shimmering could be seen below. "Ah, look at that!" Her uncle exclaimed. "That's the river on Dunan's map. We're getting close. At this rate we should be there by midday."

Kylie had studied the maps almost every day, kinda had to since she helped Balor navigate. The river at the bottom of this mountain was the same one her grandfather told them about. The outpost was supposed to be within sight of the beginning of said river, where it starts getting deep enough for small sailing vessels and near the point of the end of the Spine. Hopefully, once there they could set up camp and begin scouting the area. It had been a long trip just ge this far and with any luck, this would mark the end of one journey and the start of another.
 
The argument was harsh, the words made more intense thanks to the Orc language being used. Guttural and full of vigor, for those who didn't have an ear for the words spoken wouldn't have a clue if the pair were having a casual conversation about the weather or cursing each others mothers.

As the fog lifted and the caravan neared, it was clear the conversation was not of the nicer sort. Blades were drawn and the halfling stood opposite of the orc, huched over and tense like a cat ready to spring. Honiahaka was tall and muscular, his sepia tone made all the more redder thanks to the cresting sun.... Or perhaps his skin was red in nature thanks to the anger he felt at that moment. It was a toss up.

Despite the cold coming off the mountain, the Nord and Nazrani halfling seemed unphased. A white wolf pelt adorned his frame and aside for aiding in his tribal appearance, offered little in terms of warmth. Though given his current dilemma, warmth was not on his mind.

Growling in anger, Honiahaka pointed to the coin purse which served as a buffer between him and the angry orc who stood opposite of him, ax in hand and swaying back and forth. He was anxious.

The halfling was not.

As cool as the morning breeze, he stood his ground, simply pointing at the coin purse with the tip of his dagger, repeating the same phrase. "Copper or blood."

The orc was wide eye, chest heaving as he weighed his options before taking note of the approaching caravan in which case he finally edged forward and snatched the coin purse off the ground. Grumbling to himself, he mounted his horse and with a string of curses launched at the halfling, rode off.

Watching the orc ride down the narrow path with large bright blue eyes, Honiahaka shook his head in exasperation and then sheath both dagger and tomahawk. Moving to his own steed, he would casually turn to the approaching dwarves and offer a friendly wave to them. Best show those he would be riding close to he was no threat after all.
 
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Reactions: Redgar Ironhide
Buliwyf Ironhide was mounted on his war boar, Bacon, riding close to the second cart in line. Ironhide was enjoying conversation with the driver of the cart when the humanish stranger appeared on horseback just up the trail a head of Kylie and her uncle.

"What does this man o' a whore race want?" Buliwyf growled to the dwarf he was conversing, annoyed with the interruption and naturally concerned with the stranger. Without waiting for a reply from the driver, the boar mounted dwarf squeezed his legs in signalling Bacon to move forward. He was tasked with protection of the caravan, a job he took seriously. Especially since it was his own people he was guarding on this run. The boar was a quick study and understood what his master was asking of him, taking notice what had alerted his rider.

Dwarf and mount hastily trotted up and slightly passed the first cart putting themselves between the Stranger and the front of the caravan. The fur clad human raised his hand showing no threat and Buliwyf answered in kind, drawing his war-hammer from it's ring sheath and resting it upon his right shoulder in a relaxed yet ready position.

"Nae closer roon lugs!" Ironhide snarled, his voice resonated deep with a heavy baritone of command. "State yer business ur Ah bash yer skull in!"
 
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