Altamar Village, South of the Wda's lowest branch
Population: Small
Within the Longhouse
It was a long ride north upon horseback to the edge of the great swamp of Golgorotht and it was squires Hanely and Ihlan that took the horses back come the next morning. A local guide led them across the dank waters. They piloted long bodied canoes with shallow hulls, and those craft saw the venturing knights, and those two prospective, Astarel and Rookheart, across the dark and mired waters, and Into flooded woods where proud and ancient trunks towered high above.
It was days of rowing. What camps they did set up, oft were upon wet marsh. Rests short, for the local fauna gave threat to any that stilled for too long. And upon the third day, they spotted them. Dark shapes perched upon the boughs of the great cypress, with eyes that glint like silver, and riders upon their backs.
It was their wings they followed. Until the glow of lamp lights burned in the distance, and the shape of nests, large as houses, twined about the massive trunks. Rope ladders and staircases spread between the towering trees, far above the inhospitable floor of the swamp.
With hooks, and winches, the canoes were lifted up, and up, and up into the treetop village. All whilst the great ravens watched from their perches. Squawked and crooked their raven calls as they hopped and watched the strangers come.
Packs rested, with no time to rest. The knights and their squires were taken to the long house where greetings and negotiations began. Pleasantries exchanged. Till the point arrived.
"We already done told you, Syrs, we have none riders to spare for yer order," The village elder affirmed, stuck the crook of his pipe betwixt his lips, and took two puffs from the stem. "Less so our ravens,"
Hector did his best to keep a neutral expression. His eyes forward, and his posture tall as he stood behind Syrs Herzog, and Rimeboll.
Syr Herzog stood tall before him,her back straight and unperturbed by the elder's rejection. "Elder Halut," she began evenly. "We acknowledge your position, and seek to make clear that our causes are aligned,"
The Elder huffed, and smoke curled about his grey whiskers. "No doubt in that, Syr,"
From outside the wooden walls, came a crook. The sound of a child's laughter, and the beat of strong feathers against the air.
Halut's golden eyes turned toward the window, saw the flit of the large black form. A grumble in his throat. "Ya've had a long journey, no doubt," he nod from his driftwood seat. Let his pipe fall from his mouth with a soft click as he pointed to the party gathered. "Go, get you some rest, enjoy our hospitality, and we may talk more come the morrow,"
Syr Herzog bowed. "Come the morrow,"
Hector blinked, and followed suit. Syr Rimeboll barely nod his head as they turned to leave.
Outside the longhouse, a child stood by the edge of plank walk. A long drop before her, but her feet were steady, and she seemed not the least bit concerned. "No, Twinli, no," she spoke to something in the trees. "Pa wouldn't like that very much,"
Hector looked up, and saw a raven, perched on a distant branch. No greater in size than the common corvid.
"Waste of time, this," Syr Rimeboll grumbled as they strode across the woodplank way. Lantern bugs flit about the air around them, and soft glowing lights dotted across the way.
"Negotiations take time," Syr Herzog assured. "Food and rest will do us all some good,"
Rimeboll but grumbled. Another croak amidst the symphony of frog-song and toad calls.
Lorinna Astarel
Population: Small
Within the Longhouse
It was a long ride north upon horseback to the edge of the great swamp of Golgorotht and it was squires Hanely and Ihlan that took the horses back come the next morning. A local guide led them across the dank waters. They piloted long bodied canoes with shallow hulls, and those craft saw the venturing knights, and those two prospective, Astarel and Rookheart, across the dark and mired waters, and Into flooded woods where proud and ancient trunks towered high above.
It was days of rowing. What camps they did set up, oft were upon wet marsh. Rests short, for the local fauna gave threat to any that stilled for too long. And upon the third day, they spotted them. Dark shapes perched upon the boughs of the great cypress, with eyes that glint like silver, and riders upon their backs.
It was their wings they followed. Until the glow of lamp lights burned in the distance, and the shape of nests, large as houses, twined about the massive trunks. Rope ladders and staircases spread between the towering trees, far above the inhospitable floor of the swamp.
With hooks, and winches, the canoes were lifted up, and up, and up into the treetop village. All whilst the great ravens watched from their perches. Squawked and crooked their raven calls as they hopped and watched the strangers come.
Packs rested, with no time to rest. The knights and their squires were taken to the long house where greetings and negotiations began. Pleasantries exchanged. Till the point arrived.
"We already done told you, Syrs, we have none riders to spare for yer order," The village elder affirmed, stuck the crook of his pipe betwixt his lips, and took two puffs from the stem. "Less so our ravens,"
Hector did his best to keep a neutral expression. His eyes forward, and his posture tall as he stood behind Syrs Herzog, and Rimeboll.
Syr Herzog stood tall before him,her back straight and unperturbed by the elder's rejection. "Elder Halut," she began evenly. "We acknowledge your position, and seek to make clear that our causes are aligned,"
The Elder huffed, and smoke curled about his grey whiskers. "No doubt in that, Syr,"
From outside the wooden walls, came a crook. The sound of a child's laughter, and the beat of strong feathers against the air.
Halut's golden eyes turned toward the window, saw the flit of the large black form. A grumble in his throat. "Ya've had a long journey, no doubt," he nod from his driftwood seat. Let his pipe fall from his mouth with a soft click as he pointed to the party gathered. "Go, get you some rest, enjoy our hospitality, and we may talk more come the morrow,"
Syr Herzog bowed. "Come the morrow,"
Hector blinked, and followed suit. Syr Rimeboll barely nod his head as they turned to leave.
Outside the longhouse, a child stood by the edge of plank walk. A long drop before her, but her feet were steady, and she seemed not the least bit concerned. "No, Twinli, no," she spoke to something in the trees. "Pa wouldn't like that very much,"
Hector looked up, and saw a raven, perched on a distant branch. No greater in size than the common corvid.
"Waste of time, this," Syr Rimeboll grumbled as they strode across the woodplank way. Lantern bugs flit about the air around them, and soft glowing lights dotted across the way.
"Negotiations take time," Syr Herzog assured. "Food and rest will do us all some good,"
Rimeboll but grumbled. Another croak amidst the symphony of frog-song and toad calls.
Lorinna Astarel