In the east of the Iuk-'u Delta, a large group was resting in a dryer portion of swamp. One group was composed of about ten lightly armored individuals while the larger group was composed of a couple dozen ragged, shackled, emaciated people. "The hell we gonna do now?" An armored man spoke up, huddled with four others while the rest seemed to stand guard by the ragged folk. "We lost five of our men and ten slaves crossing that marsh. And that thing killed our horses. We're not even half way to the coast!"
"Calm down!" A larger, slightly older man spoke up, black hair tied in a pony tail and green eyes glairing at his apparent subordinate. "We camp out here for now, secure some food and some defensive positions, then set the slaves to building a raft. Then we can move them down the rest of the way to Samskaya."
"What, a bloody raft?" A slightly younger woman chastised. "We're gonna cross the sea in a rickety, slave built raft?"
"We're crossing a tiny straight!" The leader snapped back. "If it gets us down the river, it'll get us to the island. Now quick whining. This job'll have us set for life. So get out there and scout the area for threats. get back to me the second you see something."
The sun was on its way to its peak this morning, waters of the Delta somewhat lower as the flood season began to end. While it would be a month or so longer before the influx of foreign scavengers, the Delta's only year round member of that profession was sitting near a low fire next to the partially buried remnants of rooftop. A lean-too shelter was set against it with the fire outside. The Swamp Rat was smoking a pipe filled with bramble-sprout leaves and removing a kettle from near the fire, pouring himself a cup of tea.
"Well, I suppose the amateurs'll be floodin' in soon." He mumbled to himself as he took a sip from the cup and eating a piece of wild fruit. "Gonna be noisy at the port for a while..."
Jezebeth Af Malakath
"Calm down!" A larger, slightly older man spoke up, black hair tied in a pony tail and green eyes glairing at his apparent subordinate. "We camp out here for now, secure some food and some defensive positions, then set the slaves to building a raft. Then we can move them down the rest of the way to Samskaya."
"What, a bloody raft?" A slightly younger woman chastised. "We're gonna cross the sea in a rickety, slave built raft?"
"We're crossing a tiny straight!" The leader snapped back. "If it gets us down the river, it'll get us to the island. Now quick whining. This job'll have us set for life. So get out there and scout the area for threats. get back to me the second you see something."
The sun was on its way to its peak this morning, waters of the Delta somewhat lower as the flood season began to end. While it would be a month or so longer before the influx of foreign scavengers, the Delta's only year round member of that profession was sitting near a low fire next to the partially buried remnants of rooftop. A lean-too shelter was set against it with the fire outside. The Swamp Rat was smoking a pipe filled with bramble-sprout leaves and removing a kettle from near the fire, pouring himself a cup of tea.
"Well, I suppose the amateurs'll be floodin' in soon." He mumbled to himself as he took a sip from the cup and eating a piece of wild fruit. "Gonna be noisy at the port for a while..."
Jezebeth Af Malakath
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