Your journeys have brought you in sight of the Block, that dreadful and magnificent symbol of the triumph over the devil and at the same time a grim reminder of the ever present need for vigilance against the dangers of chaos, always seeking new paths to invade and distort the world.
To the south you see the Block, towering over the plains of Prax. Traveling solemnly toward it, your mount seeming to share your anticipation, you see a lonely tree. At its base you can just make out a small wigwam.
 
You also see a number of other mounted, and in one case, on all fours, figures.

Mabwe stops and stares in awe and more than a little trepidation at The Block as he pictures in his mind's eye the marsh that he has been taught surrounds it, a marsh filled with foul beasts of Chaos.

He is thankful for Forntiss' teachings, for without her teachings the visions would have been harder to bear. He does though feel fortified in his soul, feels stronger, as though he has experienced more in one vision than she taught in a year.

Mabwe snorts loudly sending his snout out straight with the pressure of air and shakes away the feelings, turning his gaze instead to the tree and the tent beneath it. He starts forward again his gaze remaining mostly on the tent, but wandering occasionally to the other arrivals.

As they come into earshot he rises to his hind legs and walks upright, his massive size now evident. He raises an open paw to the strangers "It is strange find lone wanderers from the great tribes converge on one place at the same time."

Norajia fidgets with her necklace as she adujusts Her sable's pace to match the nearby Morocanth's stride. It blows through it's lips shortly after the Morocanth's snort.

Norajia waves to him with a small head-bob, "Strange company perhaps, but not so strange as the dreams that lead me hither. My goddess desires peace with all and any, and I urge all and any to follow her lead. If it seems the gods wish to speak, our first task is to listen. Let us make our introductions when we find out if those who raised the wigwam can tell us more"

Tauri stood in his saddle and looked across at the othrrs who approached the wigwam.  He raised his right hand to shade his eyes from Yelms glare.  "It seems Odina we are not the only ones to be called." he spoke to the shaggy black bison he rode.  He gave the big beast a nudge forward and slowly approached his shield was slung and his lance in his left hand as a sign of peaceful intentions.  As he got closer he raised his hand in greetings.

"Fair winds, it seems unlikely the five tribes are called together on a whim.  It seems we have been chosen for some task.

The Block.  Site of great victory.

Lemak spurs his silver-grey high llama forward.  Seeing the large bison and rider, he sits straighter, chest out, the impression of his size helped by the heavy scale armour over his torso and plate mail protection on his limbs.  Both his lance and two handed dagger-axe are strapped to the sides of his animal, but within easy reach if necessary.

The mount seems to notice too, either taking its master's lead, or from the presence of other nomad beasts.  Its neck straightens and its ears lay back.  Lemak trusts in his high llama to gain a step on the other travelers toward the wigwam.



To the morokanth he throws his voice, "This is the land of the Great Bull.  Not so strange to see us make our way here."  For emphasis, he nods towards the Block, with its camp of cultists at the base.  "Strange to see a sole healer travelling these lands though."



Turning to the saber rider, he says "You are either very lucky or very foolish.  Or both.  And you talk of introductions, but make none yourself."

Norajia's sable maintains its pace as she looks the converging aepycamelus and rider up and down. Her mouth opens and closes but she makes no reply, perhaps sighing. Her posture relaxes noticeably though, and she gestures towards the tree and wigwam.

Mabwe nods and returns the greeting of the Bison rider, but snorts loudly at the words of the High Llama brave. He responds slowly "That the Bull plunged his heart into the Devil here does not change the fact that this is Waha's land."

"And I said it is strange to see lone travellers of the five great tribes here, not that it is strange to see one lone follower of the Bull here."

"If you do not know how many that is hold up one of your hands, it is one for each of the digits you see."

He snorts again But maybe I have it wrong. It is unusual to see four lone members of different tribes heading for the tent here and a follower of The Bull heading off for the camp at the Block."

Norajia rests her forehead on the knuckles of both hands for a moment, reigning her sable in gently to interpose it between the courses of the morocanth and high-llama.

Thangar rides up to the group. To themself they say "I didn't realize there would be others"
Then, raising their voice to be heard, "What brings you all to this spot?"

Lemak bristles at the morokanth's words, but can't think of a good response.  Using words anyway.  Silently, he's glad the sable rider has come between them.  He restricts himself to just, "All honour Waha, the son of the Storm Bull."  He spurs his high llama ahead again.



At the sound of a new voice, Lemak reigns in his mount and looks back.  At least this gives him an opportunity to regain the moral high ground.  To think, it is a Storm Bull warrior who remembers his manners!  "I am Lemak of the Silver Fleece clan.  I am here at the call of the Great Desert Wind himself!"

Norajjia nods to the latest arrival and listens to Lemak's introduction.

"Greetings Lemak, I am Norajia of the Unwilling Flatterers clan. The White Goddess sends me here. It is good to know that we approach the site of the Bull's triumph in company with one of his own"

"I am Tuari of the Snow bison clan, mighty Orlanth Khan of the Storm called out to me in my dreams.  I saw this place and that wigwam, I it will hope contain the answers we all seek to why we are called.  Tuari said introducing himself to the group.

"I am Mabwe of the Dark Water clan. I was given a vision by the Great Spirit Waha, the same visions that you were all given by the Great Spirits that you worship."

"My shaman told me to seek the shaman here, Shollak."

<OOC: feel free to continue introductions etc.>

Approaching the tree, you see a small leather wigwam next to it and under the shade of its branches.

A campfire surrounded by stones is heating a bronze pot, and several kabobs with skewered local game (you think probably hare and prairie dog) protrude from the fire. 

Standing outside the tent you see a young man and a young woman. Both appear to be Praxians. Neither appears to be a slave but both have the permanent marks of a slave collar on their necks.  
The young woman and man address you, their heads tilted slightly to the side and speaking in stilted blank tones, the woman speaking first, and alternating their phrases. It's a little unsettling:

"Greetings travelers-"
"and welcome to the-"
"wigwam of master Shollak-"
 "Sees Far. He has-"
"been expecting you-"
"for some time although he-"
"knew not the day or the-"
"season. He bids you-"
"to make yourselves comfortable in his-"
"humble campsite and take your-"
"rest from the trials of-"
"the plains. If you-"
"require anything the-"
"master offers it to you. He-"
"only asks that you remain and do-"
"not disturb him until he-"
"emerges from his tent."

They both let out a gasp and slump their shoulders when they finish.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:38, Tue 12 May 2020.

Lemak frowns slightly but tries not to let it show.  I wonder why I saw no wigwam in my dreams...

He turns to the impala rider in expectation.



Strange indeed, but shamans are always strange.  Possessed?

Lemak dismounts and looks to see if there's any shade under the tree for his high llama.  Retrieving his dagger axe, he holds it in a non-threatening position, head down, and walks up to the campfire, taking one of the skewers he thinks is of hare.

Tuari rode Odina over to the tree and settled the big black bison down. He gathered his things and moved to take a seat at the fire.  He wears a scale hauberk a trophy from a raid into thr west, a broadsword across his back and a heavy mace on his right hip.  He stood nearly seven feet tall, broad shoulders and thickly hewed arms.  He smiled warmly at everyone but the healer and deliberately kept a distance from her.

He took on of the skewered meat sticks and began to chew enthusiastically.

Noriajia unloads her sable and sets it to graze. Her tack is peculiar, mostly platted and woven hair and wool. She strolls over to examine the two Praxian welcomers for a minute, observing them closely and putting her ear to their chests.

She gets some cheese out of her bags and joins those at the fire.  She wiggles an eyebrow at Tuari's reserve and stays the other side of the fire from him. "Have you seen rain?' she asks between mouthfuls, looking from one rider to another.

Mabwe approaches the two to have a closer look, intrigued by them and their shared speech muttering to himself as he does so <small>"Strange, as though they share one spirit the way they shared the speaking."

Then he asks them "Are there any plant to eat, tubers, succulent roots, melons, seeds, anything like that?" and he watches their reaction closely.

Lemak and Tuari, while the meat is not fancy it is much more tender than the smoked jerky in your saddlebags and hits the spot after your long travels.

Noticing Norajia and Mabwe, the young man apologetically scurries about, gathering up some cooked taproots and other vegetables from the chaparral and serves them to you in a wooden bowl, which he holds out to you tentatively.

Norajia thanks the young man and raises her bowl to Mabwe in salutation "May it benefit you" she says and smiles. After the young man has moved away she says "These two appear to me used to being controlled. It seems a lot of trouble to go to. "

As the wait continues, she gets a lyre from her bags and practises a song

"By serpent, by serpent, by far bank adjacent"
"Swabs Varaneena her long legs albescent"
"Swathe Varaneena those long legs albescent"
"Long legs albescent, blue eyes liquescent"
"Long legs albescent, blue eyes liquescent"
"T’wards Varaneena swim grey geese conversant"


"T’wards Varaneena swim grey geese conversant "
"Geese be dispersant, your cursing quiescent"
"Geese be dispersant, your cursing quiescent"
"Our Khan’s convalescent, he’ll wake incandescent"
"Khan’s convalescent and wakes incandescent"
"Khan viridescent, Khanina rubescent."


"Why Varaneena at night were you absent?"
"With whom were you absent? of whom staying silent?"
"Where Varaneena art wandering transient?"
"I walked down the serpent in talk found consentient"
"I walked down the serpent, that stalks my consentient"
"Self-same consentient, long obsolescent"


"By serpent, by serpent, by far bank adjacent"
"Swabs Varaneena her long legs albescent"

Like most sable riders Norajia has dark hair and eyes, and although the song is in Praxian and Varaneeena is a Praxian name, blue eyes would be unusual among the major tribes. Her vocal range goes higher than might be expected of somebody measuring six foot two inches and approaching two hundred pounds.

"No, no rain recently where my clan has been.  Unless you mean the rain of sand in Fire Season," says Lemak with a crooked smile.

He reaches for another meat skewer.  More for me, since it appears at least two of the group are vegetarian.  Not that he was waiting for others before taking a second one.

He looks back at Norajia and says "I meant what I said back there - when we were approaching this place.  You're lucky.  There's been a scorpion man lurking in this area, killing travelers."
This message was last edited by the player at 04:10, Fri 15 May 2020.

Mabwe listens to the song, half interested, but his concentration obviously more so on the couple and the surrounding camp. When she finishes he says "We use the little we have, it is how Waha taught us to survive. And when you are blind there is only so much that the spirits can see for you, you must use the eyes of the living in some ways for some things."

As he chews on one of the offered taproots he glances about the camp again, though this time with a more analysing eye.