Welcome to Gaia! ::

Silence nodded in the direction of the seemingly over-protective Chalindra and smiled. She winced as a kick hit under her ribs as the male accompanying the other pregnant girl spoke. "Fussy little thing...." she muttered. "Be glad your human ate whatever I put down and not the other way around." She rose from the ground, swaying slightly and moved over to the girl. "This pregnant elf says you are required to eat at least one meal a night while in my domain." She smiled and motioned to the bowl Chalindra had brought. "You'd best start eating, child, if you can't stomach the stew we have dried meat."

Tox ignored the orc for a moment, still glaring at the bandaged drow -- who was set on glaring right back. He turned his sour expression to what appeared to be the master of the camp, and motioned to the orc company. "I 'ave to commend ye on somehow teachin' an animal to speak. Can 'e also beg and roll over?."

He didn't let them respond. Tox's sallow eyes swivelled in the direction of the orc, a snide expression of utter contempt blooming on his scarred features that could make even a drow wither. His lips curled back over his brownish teeth, caught between a sneer and a snarl.

"Listen up, hogface. These drows 'ere might tolerate 'avin' an animal at the table, beggin' fer scraps, but I don't. Keep yer barkin' to yerself over things ye don't understand, or piss orf."

He smirked.

"Sit. And stay, pig."

Zee opened her eyes at the sense of a malicious presense crossing the sanctuary field that protected The Outpost. She had been sitting silently in prayer inside the Emissary’s tent communing with the Dark Maiden. She noticed that Eilistraee had felt… close. Close enough to touch in both her mind and as if she were standing next to her. Before she could explore the feeling any further, an alarm tickled her consciousness and she was brought back to the here and now.

She rose from a crossed legged position off of the rug in the center of the tent, using her staff for support. Peeking out of the tent opening, She saw a large man sit near the main campfire. There was sense of “wrong” that came from him. It was enough for her to notice from just looking at him. The fact that his presence brought her out of revive was concern enough.

Slowly Zee pushed the flaps away of the tent opening and stood out in the open of the firelight. She could see her nephew had returned and noticed a few new faces as well since she last sat next to the fire. As she began to make her way towards the gathering, a girl appeared at the perimeter of the camp and sang a greeting. From the young girl she felt a brush of blissful innocence as she crossed the plane of the camp’s border. Deep underneath that innocence she felt a pirck of pain, which made her lose her breath for a second. Intertwisted within that pain was the same feeling that the man was giving off. She didn’t need to think it over very hard to put the two together. She hid the scowl that she wanted to let form on her face as she gracefully made her way near the young girl Chalindra had seated herself next too. Zee gently placed her hand on the other priestesses shoulder and gave her a look of “knowing.”

Now that Zee had wandered closer to the fire, a wave of dizziness began to try and overcome her senses. She pushed it back which made her temples throb with a dull pain. There was something powerful nearby causing it. She looked about the camp, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. She brought her attention back to the conversation at the fire that seemed to have just become a little heated. Strengthening her grip on Chalindra’s shoulder in a show of support she watched the patrons at the fire carefully.

Khar'Grim growled, and narrowed his gaze at Tox, feeling the urge to chalenge him to a duel to the death right then and there. his knuckles turned white from how tightly he was clenching his fists, buthe could nt risk his mission by disturbing the peace in this encampment. he took a deep breath, and looked to Cyn'gus again.

"i am Khar'Grim Glacierheart. my people need food and fabrics. a blizzard destroyed most of our trade goods, so we have little to trade with."

he always hated humility, but he had learned it's importance in the years of his training. as embarressing as it was, sometimes more honour was earned through acts of lowering one's pride than stubbornly keeping it up.

it was then that he noticed the girl crying. when she spoke, she said the most unexpected thing. to talk to the stones. was she some kind of Priestess?

The girl knew she was close to the fire because of the warmth that filled her cuffs. She also knew that it was surrounded by a lot of the new people with unpleasant fumes and the strange smelling creature. 'I might have to ask what it is...' She heard a female voice followed by a weeping sound. She turned to the salt elf that she recognized as being close by.

"Why does the female that smells of a human cry? " Her voice was harsh as she gestured toward the irritating sound. "It's hard enough trying to find things by smell out here, but that... noise makes moving by ear complicated too."

With a sigh of frustration, she reached out for the pot of stew that was just beyond her hands, if her nose was right. She misjudged. "Ouch! Damned fire." She hissed while withdrawing burned fingers away from the heat that was comforting a moment before.

Cyn’gus saw the growing tension between Khar'Grim and the heavy set human that had been insulting him. His eyes darted back and forth between the two sitting across from each other. He could almost see the daggers in their glares, and possibly cut that tension with one of them. Before anything boiled over into more than just a few choice words and unfriendly looks, Cyn’gus was able to get the orc shaman’s attention once again.

After hearing the brief statement by Khar’Grim, the drow emissary’s eyebrows raised. He sat back, placing his hands on his knees while saying, ”Ah, yes… it has been an exceptionally harsh winter for all. We are more than willing to share with you what little we have…” Cyn’gus paused and glanced down at the pile of folded blankets he had walked over with. Scooping them up with both hands, he turned and presented them to the shaman.

The air was slightly chilled and the creatures of night were heard as a woman wrapped in a pale blue cloak journeyed along the forest path. She was a traveler and made a living on sharing stories wherever she went. Two days prior, the woman had departed from a village that had eagerly welcomed the entertainment in exchange for a meal and a sleeping place by someone's fire. The village had been nothing special; no new stories were shared with her, but the people were quite accepting despite her race.

As she continued down the worn path between the towering of trees on both sides a flicker in the distance caught her eye. The staff in her left hand was moved quickly to her right as she breathed deeply to calm. The last time a flickering light had appeared before the woman's eyes, it had been a group of bandits whom had thought very little of being sneaked up on by a creature. She was lucky to have escaped with very little harm to her person and with most of her belongings. She could not help thanking whatever deity had been present that the group had not harmed her precious journals and cloak. Now, it seemed, that she was about to stumble upon another group.

Soft footsteps carried her closer to the area where the light sat upon the ground. Many moments passed before the area was able to be distinguished and, when it was, the woman could not help but to sigh in relief. The fires she had seen were beyond three tents of what she could only assume were oiled canvas. There was a faint sound of voices carried on the wind.

'They may be in want of a tale,' the woman thought as she neared the first of the tents.

When she was close enough to touch the stakes of the first canvas shelter, the woman paused to dust herself off so as to greet the people of the camp in a more presentable way. The voices were louder now and she could hear many accents spilling over her sensitive ears. Men and women alike were in there and it sounded like a tale might be quite welcome as some tones appeared angered. Taking a deep breath the woman moved around the tent and held up a hand, keeping her eyes on the ground, in greeting.

"Greetings," she called in a clear tone.

Tox had had enough of this camp of whiny, meddlesome fools. He was almost completely out of powder, which wasn't doing much for his temper. It seemed that each new addition to the fire made their entrance just to piss him off. When the fumbling blind thing snapped the last of his patience with her curt snaps, it wasn't pity or affection that prompted him to defend the sobbing Thalia, but more an answer to the sheer, unresolved hatred that was blooming in his chest.

"In my culture," he began, his voice cold and quiet. The coarse accent he had hid behind was suddenly gone, and the perfect roll he used now was pure education, "damaged goods such as yourself were killed immediately. Not for their incompetence, but rather to avoid the obnoxious whining that inevitably followed, as you have just demonstrated."

He sneered, and in the midst of his scarred, hairy face, it still seemed to match the cold, composed tone he suddenly favoured.

"It does seem ironic that a blind fool is scolding another for standing where they cannot be seen. It certainly seems to explain the permanent bout of PMS you appear to be riding, however - just a bitter little brat because she hasn't got eyes any more."