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<blockquote data-quote="covaithe" data-source="post: 5188323" data-attributes="member: 46559"><p>[sblock=Karl and Weel]Apikotoa waves a polite farewell, and the hostile lizardman leads you to an area on an island at the back of the encampment. On the island, strung around five trees arrayed roughly in a circle, is a fence roughly six feet tall, made of thick vines woven through saplings, which are driven into the ground like stakes every few feet. The fence is lashed to the trees at the corners, and at the westernmost tree, facing into the ramshackle village, a bent sapling tied to the tree forms a kind of gate, tied shut on the outside with thick leather cords. The barrier looks sturdy, but is not quite opaque. Peering through the woven vines, you can see the outlines of perhaps two dozen figures, pacing or standing or sitting inside. A pair of lizardfolk stand guard by the makeshift gate. One holds a spear with a long, leaf-shaped blade, and the other a metal shield and longsword. The weapons are notable, for they are the only metal you have seen thus far in the encampment. </p><p></p><p>At your approach, the guard with the sword and shield sets them carefully aside and begins to undo the gate ties. It takes nearly a minute, since there are several cords, and they are swollen and stiff in the humid swamp air. Once the gate is opened, the angry lizardman who escorted you here shoves you toward the entrance, though gently. </p><p></p><p>Inside are about twenty five human men, some middle aged or even a bit elderly, and some in their mid teens, but most in the prime of adulthood. They are even more filthy and bedraggled than you are, despite several days of travelling through swamps. A handful bear minor wounds, and two are badly wounded, laid out in the center of the camp on makeshift blankets made of the least filthy clothing at hand. Some of the men are bare chested, having given their tunics to the cause. </p><p></p><p>As the lizardfolk close the door behind you, all eyes turn to you. A black-haired man, bare chested and heavily muscled, with half a dozen minor wounds criss-crossing on top of old scars, demands roughly, <span style="color: sienna">"Who are you?"</span></p><p>[/sblock]</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="covaithe, post: 5188323, member: 46559"] [sblock=Karl and Weel]Apikotoa waves a polite farewell, and the hostile lizardman leads you to an area on an island at the back of the encampment. On the island, strung around five trees arrayed roughly in a circle, is a fence roughly six feet tall, made of thick vines woven through saplings, which are driven into the ground like stakes every few feet. The fence is lashed to the trees at the corners, and at the westernmost tree, facing into the ramshackle village, a bent sapling tied to the tree forms a kind of gate, tied shut on the outside with thick leather cords. The barrier looks sturdy, but is not quite opaque. Peering through the woven vines, you can see the outlines of perhaps two dozen figures, pacing or standing or sitting inside. A pair of lizardfolk stand guard by the makeshift gate. One holds a spear with a long, leaf-shaped blade, and the other a metal shield and longsword. The weapons are notable, for they are the only metal you have seen thus far in the encampment. At your approach, the guard with the sword and shield sets them carefully aside and begins to undo the gate ties. It takes nearly a minute, since there are several cords, and they are swollen and stiff in the humid swamp air. Once the gate is opened, the angry lizardman who escorted you here shoves you toward the entrance, though gently. Inside are about twenty five human men, some middle aged or even a bit elderly, and some in their mid teens, but most in the prime of adulthood. They are even more filthy and bedraggled than you are, despite several days of travelling through swamps. A handful bear minor wounds, and two are badly wounded, laid out in the center of the camp on makeshift blankets made of the least filthy clothing at hand. Some of the men are bare chested, having given their tunics to the cause. As the lizardfolk close the door behind you, all eyes turn to you. A black-haired man, bare chested and heavily muscled, with half a dozen minor wounds criss-crossing on top of old scars, demands roughly, [color=sienna]"Who are you?"[/color] [/sblock] [/QUOTE]
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