The nomads are indeed as described. A motley assembly of tribes on the move. You get the feeling they have not left their lands that often, or even interacted with strangers, as they seem properly mesmerized by your appearance. You often catch tribal people gawking at your red hair.

The leaders of the tribes seem to be an 'assembly of equals' with no clear leader in charge. They thank you your gifts, offering small tokens of their own and food.

They seem very keen to find out from you some information as the the 'lay of the land' ahead. They seem most concerned with the reception they will get as they close down on the big western cities.

I ask them where they are from and where they are going, and of course I introduce myself as Ataraxia. I am smugly proud of my beauty and hair and enjoy being admired for both, so I make sure to take my time to let them stare.

My people and I are on a journey to the Great Desert to seek ancient ruins and mysteries, in hopes of uncovering the meaning of visions, dreams, and strange symbols related to a visitation by dragons. I am not, myself, very familiar with the lands immediately behind us, but beyond that is Waterdeep and my own lands, which I can tell them about extensively. Waterdeep is a huge, rich city and usually welcoming of strangers.

Scouts were correct, they are indeed from the plain. When you ask them about their origin, they seem a bit hesitant for the first time. They welcome the good news of Waterdeep's hospitality. At this point you can see them coming to a silent understanding and they tell you that this is not a temporary move. This is a migration. They are seeking new lands to settle, lands that can accommodate their numbers and their life style. you can hear a gasp, that you immediately associate with Vermillion.

I ask how many they are and what their lifestyle might be.

I don't bring it up yet, but my own lands are sparsely populated. A whole village of new subjects would open up all kinds of new economic and social opportunities for myself and my people, provided their culture isn't too strange. I would of course want to consult the eminent people of my subjects, to check on that kind of thing, so I don't want to get ahead of myself just yet.

I turn my head to look at Vermillion and ask him what's shocked him.

Numbers are not their strongest suit. They are rather vague about their actual numbers. You get the feeling it's probably part of a sort of 'marketing ploy' not to scare anyone.

Vermillion talks between barred teeth clearly not wanting to be heard 'The Lords of Waterdeep will go berserk if they try to settle all of the tribes in their lands...'

Vague is fine. General number of them. Families, clans, whatever they measure population by.

I nod at Vermillion's statement but not at him directly.

"I cannot promise anything to you," I tell their elders. "The local lords might be willing to accept some of your people, but not all, if there are very many. You might not be able to stay together. What caused you to leave your homeland?"

The question of their departures is greeted with a sort of solemn silence. The elder of the elders finally answers you.

'There is great trouble in the East. War has been going on for a long time but now, a new foe has arisen. He's been laying waste to the Eastern nations and would soon be arriving for us, we took a collective decision to depart, rather than face annihilation.'

"How far to the east? Are you nomads by tradition? How far have you come? A few months, a season?"

'Beyond the doomed desert... we have been travelling for weeks now, we don't travel fast. We hope the desert will make them move south, rather than west...'

"I have heard of a warlord in the east, from bandits in my own lands driven west. Without knowing how many of you there are, I can't offer protection or shelter for everyone. I don't know if anyone can. If you keep going with this many people..."

I trail off, looking at the long caravan train.

"How much food, water, and other supplies do you have? How long until you have to forage?"

The elders seem rather nonplussed. They have been foraging for a while now so... they also hint that, failing the western direction, they would travel south along the coast. This brings about another of Vermillion's gasps and this one you can understand. The string of cities and towns along the coast would be none too happy with a horde this size moving through their lands. On the the positive side, at least they would not go north and into your lands. Whatever the case might be, this will mean trouble. And this is even before whatever it is they are running away from arrives.

"I am sorry that I cannot offer you better news. These lands are rich, but not in farming or husbandry. Most of the cities and kings of the coast make their fortunes in trade and mining. Do your people know how to sail or build boats? There is always demand for more shipwrights, sailors, and fishermen. I could employee some of your people in various capacities...

Can you farm? Or were you primarily herdsmen?"

They shrug. they seem to used to hardship and to make do. The mention of shipping is received with befuddlement. Vermillion whispers in your ear 'as far as I know, no major rivers or seas where they come from'.

Farming, as could be expected from nomads is seems as a bit of an insult. Now herdsmen, that's something they can understand. you even an enthusiastic but rambling speech, you only half understand it but they were seemingly talking of their fine herds. At that point they seem to willing to part with some goats and sheep and offer them to your caravan.

No rivers at all? Wow, that's strange. They must be from the deep desert! I can't imagine in a land with no rivers that has people living in it.

Everyone would welcome fresh meat, I think, so if the nomads want silver in exchange for the animals, I can offer it. They might be offering a gift, though, which of course I will do my best to accept graciously.

It is a gift. You are the first noble that actually took the time to stop and speak with them. In other cities they have passed, they only saw armed guards trying to get them moving. In fact, you made such an impression that they invite you and your caravan to join them. They seem to be in no particular rush to go anywhere and so are quite content to stop for a feast.

Well, that's just rude of all those nobles! Hospitality is one of the most important duties of any good person. Even if they can't allow the caravan and the people to stay for a long time, a few days of rest and making new friends is always welcome.

Of course, I welcome and am grateful for their hospitality. Not knowing their customs, I ask if I am expected to offer some of the gifted livestock as part of the feast or if that is considered rude. I try to be open, honest, and endearingly charming.

I don't demand any of my people join the feast, but I'm certainly going to. I love feasts! They're my favorite kind of party!

People continue to arrive as a large circle is cleared out for the feast. Vermillion advises you to get something symbolic as a gift, something for all of them, it does not need to have high value, it just needs to be something from you, rather then some generic gift. Easier said than done he concludes.

At some point music starts to be played, it's a sort of a rather rhythmic and entrancing melody played with some sort of brass instruments that you had never seen before. Randulf sighs and says 'at least it's not drums' whilst his sister disagrees with him, she quite likes the music being played. They start bickering as one of the elvish scouts approaches. With a dry 'it's going to be a good day for the feast' he then mentions that there was unknown movement north of the camp site. They scouted, found some traces of animals and people, and concluded it could not be drow, as whoever it was was too careless, but not careless enough to have disappeared when they searched for whoever it was.

Cue on cue, the aroma of roasting meat reaches your nostrils.

When Vermillion suggested a gift, I excused myself to go invite my people to the feast. Which I did, but I also found a wooded dale to hide in, transformed into my dragon shape for a few moments, and collected some of my own scales. One for each of the tribal elders, the scales shining and harder than iron.

Dragon scales are very valuable. I've sold them to make money before, in particularly lean times. Making a habit of it would dilute their value, plus I don't shed very many. I have to heal myself with a spell after just these few, since they didn't fall off naturally. They should make good gifts, rare, beautiful, symbolic, and expensive without being extravagant. I am proud of my own scales and their crimson mirror sheen. I don't say they're mine, of course.

I make sure at least a few of my people are standing watch, rotating in and out during the feast, because that scout report sounds awfully suspicious.

I dance and feast, enjoying both while also being polite and a good guest. I naturally gravitate towards the prettier girls and young men to dance with, but I also offer dances to the older, more socially important people, to be graceful and charming.

Your gifts were received with true awe. They knew what it was, albeit they had never seen real ones, much less have one. You have made some friends with these tribes. Even if you get the feeling they think you are a much bigger rules than you really are. Much more after your gift.

The party goes through the day and through the night. At first light, the music suddenly stops and the tribes start some sort of chant. A slightly tipsy Vermillion assumes that is to greet the dawn. At the end of the chant there's a huge collective scream and people start the 'party end' process.

At the same time you can see a gathering forming and then parting. With one of your elf scouts ahead, what seems like a humanoid is approaching. He's dressed in furs, with the head covered in the skin, antlers included, of a large moose type creature. Given the fact he's escorted by a bunch of wolves, the crowds naturally part to let him through.

Without you even noticing it, the other elf scout appears by your side. 'It was him that was scuttling from the north. He wants to speak with the assembly of leaders...'

Well I am the biggest ruler there is! Physically.

By lands and wealth I might be a count.

I couldn't party all night, lacking the endurance and alcohol tolerance for that. I was tired some time past midnight and begged off to retire and sleep. When the message came in the morning, and the wild man, I arose, groggy and bleary-eyed.

Given little time, I brush my hair, put on a simple dress, and go to meet the obvious druid. It is never smart to ignore the wise men of the woods, for they know secrets as ancient as the stones themselves.

OOC But when is a druid not a druid?

You sit at the edges of an impromptu assembly. Much like you, some of the elders are worse for wear. With the tribes getting ready to move, the stranger has a chance to say his piece. He introduces himself as a nomad, a child of the world with no lord not land. He had a strange dream. Something he never had before. He dreamt of the tribes he was now seeing and of whatever it was they were running (seemingly not too fast) from. In this dream, he saw things by the eyes of this meaning figure. As he told the assembly, 'In the depths of despair, I emerge from the night, A figure so dark, instilling endless fright. With magic and sorcery, I control the land, All bow before me, as I seize command. Who am I, this ruler so vile?'

This quickly brought the conversation to it's crux and to what he wanted to know.

There was visible discomfort in the assembly at all of this. The atmosphere of merriment was now well and truly gone. The elders all had fine words but, as Randulf and Cristene at your side noted, nobody actually answered the question.

Oh it's been my turn the whole time. Whooooopsie doodle.

I cheerfully venture, "Is that a riddle? It sounds like a necromancer to me. Maybe even a lich, which would be really bad."

I keep myself in good spirits and hope that my charisma will lift others up into a better mood. People follow those who inspire them, after all.

The elders offer little more that is of any value. The assembly quickly comes to an end and the newcomer starts to make his way north again. The camp is breaking really fast and they are now assembling their own caravans to leave, some have already departed west.

Vermillion stays puzzled during all of the exchange and after. He eventually mulls 'None of this makes great sense. In these lands we pay little attention to what happens in the east. I wonder if we are about to pay the price for that...'

"Hold, stranger! Stay with us and explain what you mean!" I call after the wild man.

To Vermillion, I say, "There is an old saying from an ancient Eastern book that a merchant and explorer once told me: 'Unity succeeds division and division follows unity. One is bound to be replaced by the other after a long span of time. This is the way with things in the world.'"

I look to the horizon, eastward.

"It seems to me that a time of unity is soon to come upon us, whether we realize or want it or not. If a great conqueror rises, so too will an empire, and the petty kings and city-states of the West will unite, either in an empire of their own or under the conqueror's banner."

I shrug, then.

"Or maybe a new religion? Who knows?"

EDIT: Forgot color on my first speech line.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:34, Tue 26 Mar.

The odd man looks dubiously at you, almost as if in disbelief that anyone called him. His face them assumes a neutral expression as he states as a matter-of-fact. 'You're not an eastern nomad...'