Either Laughingwind is thoroughly in command of her emotions, or she doesn't find your thinly veiled threat all that impressive. The same can't be said for her warriors as the more fainthearted among them visibly flinch as your indignant rage washes over them. Enough of them retain their wits to keep their weapons readied, however, and you quickly find yourself being escorted amongst the roots of the massive arboreal complex of Hometree.
You march down into a sloping tangle of roots as more and more Forestfolk descend from the canopy. These aren't just Thornpaws rangers, but also bands of wide-eyed youths, mothers with kits clinging to their fur, and elderly squirrels that need help taking their seats. As they assemble around you, you realize what you had mistaken for a simple depression is actually an organic amphitheater, carefully cultivated and maintained by generations of furry horiculturalists.
Telai shifts nervously next to you, gripping the hilt of her handax tightly as literally thousands of eyes scrutinize you.
The warriors guarding the immediate perimeter draw your attention. More than the supreme confidence of their movements and their cool regard their surroundings, it is their attire that is so unusual. Bound by leather thongs, they were a clicking assembly of ivory plates laced with a silvery veins. The substance defies your efforts to identify until you recognize the origins of a stylized skull-helmet worn by one of the Forestfolk fighters. They were wearing stomper bones. Remembering your close encounter with one of the beasts, you get the sinking feeling that this novel equipment might prove more effective than might be expected.
Laughingwind waits for her people to finish gathering before raising her hands. A vast silence follows.
Brothers and sisters, dark times have fallen upon us...
You march down into a sloping tangle of roots as more and more Forestfolk descend from the canopy. These aren't just Thornpaws rangers, but also bands of wide-eyed youths, mothers with kits clinging to their fur, and elderly squirrels that need help taking their seats. As they assemble around you, you realize what you had mistaken for a simple depression is actually an organic amphitheater, carefully cultivated and maintained by generations of furry horiculturalists.
Telai shifts nervously next to you, gripping the hilt of her handax tightly as literally thousands of eyes scrutinize you.
The warriors guarding the immediate perimeter draw your attention. More than the supreme confidence of their movements and their cool regard their surroundings, it is their attire that is so unusual. Bound by leather thongs, they were a clicking assembly of ivory plates laced with a silvery veins. The substance defies your efforts to identify until you recognize the origins of a stylized skull-helmet worn by one of the Forestfolk fighters. They were wearing stomper bones. Remembering your close encounter with one of the beasts, you get the sinking feeling that this novel equipment might prove more effective than might be expected.
Laughingwind waits for her people to finish gathering before raising her hands. A vast silence follows.
Brothers and sisters, dark times have fallen upon us...