staring out at the clearing. "I'm not keen on losing more of my blood, so let's walk in and see how they react." Zrak looks at the arrowhead shape one more time and marks the direction it 'points' to, then trots him and his horse just next to the clearing and disembarks.

The pair step into the clearing, ready for anything. For the first few steps, the kobalds remain in their food coma. However, as the adventurers approach closer, and the sounds of their footfalls reach the kobalds' ears over the sounds of their satisfied groans, they start moving.

They struggle to stand, clearly slowed by their overstuffed bellies, and immediately reach for their weapons. But they do not attack, instead standing their as if on guard.

"Kal gaela fa juil!" One of the calls out with a show of poking their weapon forward.

Malkala stops and says, "He says 'Go away, it is ours!'"

Without any surprise, Zrak folds his arms toward the two kobolds. Neither of them seemed particularly ready to fight in their overstuffed state and a stomachache awaited them if they did survive. The sight amuses Zrak, though he'd have readied himself for battle without Malkala's translation.

The ratfolk looks up towards his partner. "Glad you can understand them," he comments quietly to her. "I was hoping they could speak Common, or maybe Goblin." He glances over at the two kobolds, makes sure they aren't close enough to hit him with their weapons, then looks back to Malkala.

"Can you tell them we just came to look? We've been curious." He points to the various radishes. "They look in pretty good condition, so someone's gotta be taking care of them." He'll let Malkala add any additional question and comments, for she might know better than him on how to talk to kobolds.

"Draconic," Malkala says as she looks at the pair of kobalds, "They, like me, are descendants of dragons. But it has been so long since I've spoken it, I may need a moment."

She takes a moment to think, then says, "Shak makla tya kala."

The two kobalds hesitate and glance at each other, clearly surprised that Malkala can speak their language. But they quickly recover from their surprise and take a step forward, weapons bared, "Kal gaela fa juil! Kal gaela fa juil!"

As if it was not already obvious, Malkala states deadpan, "They aren't listening."

Somehow, Zrak isn't surprised by the reaction. "Figures," he mutters, looking at the two kobalds without much concern toward their weapons. There is a time and place to further antagonize someone and here... wasn't it.

"Forget it then," he gutterly mutters to Malkala. "There's enough here that I doubt they'll eat them all. And if we need more food, we can come back with Amiri and Linzi."

As the kobalds step forward, Zrak steps backward. The small draconic figures made their point and he doesn't feel like more lacerations just to teach them a lesson. "Let's just back away until we get outside the field. Maybe they'll be open to talk then."

Malkala nods and starts backing up toward the edge of the field. When the pair cross the line, they look back at the kobalds to see that they are still standing at attention. After a moment, they relax and sit back down, however, they keep their weapons in hand. Another moment later, they nearly collapse with groans at their upset stomachs, one of them rubbing their belly with their weapon hand, the weapon still gripped.

Malkala shakes her head, "I doubt we will get anywhere with them. Not until they are passed out. But honestly, I saw we just move on and come back later if we want the raddishes."

The bloated kobalds leave Zrak wondering whether he can just kill them now and be done with it. They look so pathetic. At the same time, even a flimsy stab could keep Zrak grounded if he gives them a chance. And in all honesty, there isn't much to get out of it.

"We're not starving for food anyway," he comments to Malkala, turning his back and walking away. "Let's go. We'll come back if we need any of this."

The smaller ratfolk struggles back onto his steed, then looks at the map again. "You think we've got plenty of time to search further out before it gets dark? We probably can't spend more than today and tomorrow before this Stag Lord thinks something is off."

Malkala works to get upon her own horse, her tall form and scales not doing much to help, "We have plenty of time. Remember that we left around when the bandits would have left if they were able to take their 'taxes.'" Her voice created the air quotes around 'taxes' as she continued to settle herself, "And as far as we know, we could still have a few days of travel left. Right now, as far as the bandits awaiting the prize know, everything is going smoothly and expectedly." Finally getting set on her horse, she kicks it into a careful trot. Without a care, the horse started up without issue, "Plus, while we waited, Svetlana let me know that a messenger arrived with a letter from Lady Aldori. If they have not arrived already, reinforcements from Brevoy will be there in a day or two to help defend the trading post. Once they arrive, the bandits will not attempt to attack the post except in great numbers, which will take time to assemble and move. While I would not want to keep away from the post for too long, we can take a week or two at a time to explore the Greenbelt."

Her eyes look up through the trees, trying to determine the time through the very occasional space between leaves that opened to the sky, "I'd say we have around three hours left before we should look for shelter for the night. Let's see what else we can find before camping."

Three hours later, all the pair found was more trees and hidden roots. However, they knew they were still on the trail as they occasionally found spots traveled often and footprints that had somehow not been eroded away. Despite wishing to push forward, the pair of adventurers knew that it would be suicidal to do so in unfamiliar territory. After a dinner of small talk and alert surveying of their surroundings, Malkala set more wood to the fire before settling down for sleep. It was Zrak's turn to take first watch during the night.

Most of the night goes by easily. The only sounds Zrak could hear were the crackling of the fire and occasional rustling of leaves from the trees up above. The same as the other nights out exploring.

However, approximately an hour before it was time to awaken Malkala for her watch, there is a sound so faint that Zrak did not even think it was real. His body tenses and freezes, instinct taking over. There was the sound again, this time a bit closer, coming from the north-west. He guesses that he has maybe a minute before whatever it is gets within sight of the camp.

Zrak is nearly half-asleep as he becomes aware of the sound. While he is used to dealing with threats on watch, something about the Greenbelt puts him uncomfortably on edge. The distant sound is like an audible personalification: distant, invisible, yet ever approaching and going to arrive. With no other sound but the flicker of flame, any sound will drive him up a wall.

The barbarian's mind races; can he face it alone? No, Malkala will inevitably wake up in the resulting conflict, if not from Zrak's bloodcurling range. And from his recent battles, fighting alone is a harrowingly terrible idea.

"Wake up," he quietly squeaked at Malkala, nudging her awake. "Something's coming, and it'll be here any moment!" In spite of his smaller size, he helps Malkala up, and damn near drags her up from the ground.

He jerks his ratty head toward the sound. "Let's move away from the campfire and into the shadows. We can see what we're dealing with that way.

Malkala is very surprised when Zrak starts pulling her to her feet, but as soon as her brain registers what he says, she quickly grabs her blade and follows the ratfolk into the shadows of the surrounding trees. They wait in silence as the sound continues coming toward the campfire. As it does, they can tell that it sounds like someone or something carelessly running. Branches snap and leaves crunch under its feet as it approaches closer and closer.

Then two figures burst into the small clearing.

One is a beautiful half-elven woman in tattered and dirty purple robes. Her medium brown hair falls in curls down to her shoulders, and her slim figure clearly shows that she does not a lot of strength. Her brown eyes are open wide in fear and alertness as she looks around the clearing.

The other is a half-orc, the dirt caking his skin not hiding the green tint. His black hair is cut short and has some burn patches, as if he ran through fire head-first. His build shows the strength that his ancestry is known for, yet he wears simple blue robes that are also ragged. He holds a larger than medium blade in his hand, and he has his other hand on its flat, as if protecting it.

They stand there in the clearing for a moment, catching their breaths, as if they had been running for hours.

"No one is here." The woman says with caution, "Did we finally find some luck?"

The man lets out a hoarse laugh, "I highly doubt it. You think escaping the Technic League for the tenth time would any more luck than the other nine?"

The woman glares at him in annoyance as he starts circling the clearing, clearly trying to find any threats. "I'm glad you have as much confidence as I do." She says with a hint of sarcasm.

Zrak hides in the shadows like a predator, quietly listening in on the two and their unfortunate dilemma. They look like adventurers, though clearly worn and weary; and their words struck a sharp tone. Did they mention the League? That was not good. How did one draw their ire so thusly that they'd chase them this far out? Zrak's own family was good at avoiding trouble but they also never were a particular threat to the ruling people of Numeria.

What to do, what to do... Zrak prefers strength in numbers, but he doesn't need to draw the League's attention. On the other hand, he never cared for Numeria's ruling people and wouldn't mind murdering a few of the League just to make a point. Yet again, these two might not want to even help and may try to kill him and Malkala on sight.

In fact, they very well might anyway if they find Zrak or Malkala watching them in the shadows.

So rather than risk a bloody battle, he slowly rises and appears out of the shadows. "I always hated the League," he begins, letting the two newcomers see his Numerian cloak and armor in full. Zrak's voice is full of seething anger, though not to the two. "Crazy corrupted assholes from The Silver Mount that would've taken my fellow ratfolk and sold them off to the slave trade."

He gives a closer look up at both of them. "Name's Zrak. You two are pretty far out from Numeria."

As soon as Zrak takes his first step forward, the two haggard magi spin toward him. The half-orc man runs his hand over his blade, lightning seeming to crackle into the metal and stay causing the blade to glow with flickering blue light. At the same time, the woman calls a blaze of fire to her hand, circles of magic forming and expanding up her arm in a conal shape, mixing her orange and red with the man's blue.

Behind Zrak, Malkala takes a few steps as well, holding her hands up, "I wouldn't be surprised if the Technic League wanders the Stolen Lands, using bandits and travellers to boost their slave numbers. It is possible they managed to escape while passing through." Her eyes look to each of them, "Right?"

The magi glance at each other, their faces full of surprise, confusion, and suspicion.

"You are right." The woman answers, "In fact, we were headed back to Numeria when we tried our tenth escape attempt."

Her partner growls, fierce enough to send a shiver down Zrak and Malkala's backs, "Why tell them anything? They could just be agents paying us for fools!"

An exhausting sigh escapes Zrak's mouth. These two thought he was an agent for the League? "Do I LOOK like I belong to them?" he responds with an agonizing sneer. "They wouldn't ever pay me to do their work as some spy; they'd take me in and destroy my life in a minute."

He shakes his head, hoping that this won't lead to another fight. Maybe giving a warning will help. "If you're going to Numeria, then you'd best move quick. We're clearing out the bandits in the Greenbelt; if the League's somewhere here, then we may run into 'em as well." He looks down at their weapons and magic. While they seem capable, he also isn't keen on suggesting they hide out at the trading post. What if that led the League to there? That place didn't need more trouble than it already had.

At least, not unless these two are willing to stay and assist.

"If you two want to take your chances elsewhere, you can come with us and help us out in the Greenbelt. Otherwise, you'd better not stay long." The ratfolk gives another look at their ragged clothing. "How recently did you escape, anyway?"

The pair of them looked at each other, seeming to have a conversation strictly through their facial expressions. Malkala sees this, notices that they seem to have doubts, and adds, "After clearing the bandits, we will be forming our own kingdom here. Even if you don't help us, you can stick around and gain our protection. It will be more difficult for the League to infiltrate a kingdom otherwise neutral or hostile to them."

There was still doubt in the pair's eyes. Yet, the words of Zrak and Malkala seem to pierce into them, resonating. The woman gives a nod, and the man lets out a soft growl but nods as well.

"Very well," the woman says, "We will join you, and assist you. But we reserve the right to leave at any time."

Malkala glances at Zrak, "I can accept that. My name is Malkala, and Zrak already introduced himself."

The woman relaxes a slight bit, "Octavia. And my partner is Regongar. We only escaped about two days ago." Her gaze goes back toward where they arrived from.

Zrak does his best to hide his surprised look from the others, reacting to Malkala's proposal. A part of him wants to speak up