“Having someone who knows the area is something people often take for granted, especially when headed to the unknown. Far too many never returned due to this little bit of hubris.” - Oswald of the Vasttrotter tribe, veteran goblin guide, circa 441 FP.
As could be expected, Jort’s clansmen prepared a welcoming feast to welcome the group, which was how they spent the rest of the evening on the day of their arrival, in revelry with plenty of good food and drinks. Both the clans’ wise and brave gathered around the group, curious about the people from abroad, and Aideen’s group welcomed the friendly attention as usual.
During the festivities Aideen also incidentally figured out what made the vermin the Clan often subsisted on disagree with their human adoptees’ stomachs. After she had a taste of the creature’s flesh herself she quickly noticed a taste that she identified as a compound often found in certain plants. One that was toxic to humans, though it didn’t adversely affect her due to her unliving nature.
The compound seemed to be part of the creature’s bodily makeup, as it was present throughout its flesh, so there was likely no way to remove it and make the meat safe for human consumption. Fortunately the tribe had plenty of variety in their diet so their human adoptees didn’t have too many issues other than having to keep in mind to avoid some dishes.
After a couple days of rest in Clan Blacktower’s village, Jort led the group for departure one morning, while Miro stayed at the village to catch up with his old friends. He first brought the group to one side of the village where the local warriors exercised, be it by sparring with one another or practicing their marksmanship.
The warrior he introduced the group to was a tall but rather wiry one compared to his compatriots, with a skin tone that was yellowish-green, the sort that would have made Aideen think of jaundice if he was a human. His larger nose and sleeker fingers also made his hybrid lineage clear, obviously a child of both goblin and orc parentage.
Where a couple other orcs were practicing their archery using logs as their targets – as softer targets would be pierced through cleanly by their arrows – the warrior in question was practicing with a blowpipe instead. His target, as it was, turned out to be a large flower about as large as a hand, around thirty paces away from him.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
It would have been hard enough to accurately hit the flower at that distance, but the wiry warrior was picking off the individual petals from the flower with the darts he blew out.
“This is Wiro. He’s one of our village’s best young warriors, and he also has family from his father’s side living at our destination, so he knows the route well,” introduced Jort. “Wiro, these are guests from afar, honorary members of the Bloodfangs. They wanted to see what life’s like over in the jungle. Figured you’d be the best guide for that.”
“Well, sure thing, Wise One, I can show them the way to Ibonua. They are aware that we will be trekking through the wilderness, yes?” asked the wiry young warrior after taking a quick glimpse at Aideen’s group. “It’s pretty untamed territory out there in the jungle, and since there won’t be that many of us, the beasts wouldn’t leave us alone the way they would if there’s like twenty or more of us.”
“Eh, don’t worry about them. They’re not honorary Bloodfangs for nothing, as long as you don’t lead us to a Tyrant Lizard den or something like that,” replied Jort half in jest. Aideen and the rest were not too familiar with the wildlife of the jungle region, but they knew of the Tyrant Lizard, apex predators that sometimes crossed to the plains to hunt.
It would be a challenge to take one down swiftly… as long as Kino was not using her magic. With her void magic in play even such beasts would fall within mere moments.
“As you wish then, Wise One. When do we leave?” asked Wiro as he stood up from his crouching position, having finished his practice. In the distance, the flower he used as practice target was missing every second petal, testament to the man’s accuracy with his blowpipe.
“Whenever you are ready, my child. We are prepared for the trek to come, so it is up to you,” answered Jort with a smile on his face.
“In that case please allow me some time to prepare for the trip. It will be around a week’s journey to Ibonua, so I will prepare accordingly,” said Wiro with a slight bow. “I’ll meet you by the village’s eastern gate in an hour or so?”
“That’ll be fine. We’re in no hurry, so take your time.”
An hour later, the young, wiry warrior met with the group at the eastern gate of the village, the one built facing the river. In flood season, the gate itself would be submerged, and the villagers would often open it to allow fish to swim in while keeping larger predators out. At the moment it was dry season so the gate was in normal use, and the group of eight – Jort had tagged along to meet with some of the goblin elders – departed as they followed the river southwards from the village.
After around two hours of walking, they reached a narrower region of the river over which a wooden bridge was built. The bridge itself was a rather narrow one, only large enough for two orcs walking side by side at most, and the rapid current of the river below made the crossing a somewhat tense experience. Fortunately, despite the creaking and swaying, the bridge itself was constructed well and held strong as the eight crossed over the river.
Across the river, not far in the distance, lay the beginnings of the jungle region east of the prairie.