Devil’s Bargain

Markus, Tarmen and the Odonine clansmen made their way to the edge of the settlement. Three riders moved towards the group after the old miner whistled at the group. Still no sign of the rest of the raiding party but they wouldn't be far.

The leading rider, was an impressive specimen of a man. Short, but with broad shoulders. Matted black hair and a long bear hid the left side of his face, but at the edges of his cheek and eye you could see dead flesh. Almost as if the left side of his faced was affected by frostbite. You saw the same gray dead flesh in parts of his shoulder.

"Outcasts..." The Odonine miner said.

He reigned a few feet from the three of you and leaned forward on his horse. You noticed none had saddles. He spat at the ground in front of Tarmen.

Just what he needed, desperate raiders trying to survive by nipping at the scraps of their former territory.
Keeping his eyes locked on the spitter as he spoke with purpose.
“If it is food you seek, you’re better off huntin’ the wild game. If it is supplies, you’ll find nothin’ but rocks and picks. Anythin’ of value was recently shipped off to Ostiarium.”
He wasn’t sure how they would handle the light bluff, but he could easily play it off on his absence.
His eyes steady, he motioned with his hand for translation.

The old man translated as best as he could. His grasp of the foreign language was not the best and Markus helped where he could.
The scarred man kept his eyes on Tarmen the whole time. Not blinking. Not turning his gaze once even when he replied.

"He says they want to see for themselves. If we don't lay down our weapons and surrender they will drive through and..." Markus paused trying to work out an aproximated translation. "Cut our heads and piss on our skulls." He said and the man continued speaking in Odon.

"Says whomever lays down their weapons walks if we gifted them the women." He paled at some some of the graphic nature of his words.

For a moment he almost slipped, clenching his jaw at the demand. Pigs, one and all. He had faced them at home and he had to face them now.
The two men continued their ocular duel, though Tarmen willingly blinked.
“Tell him that isn’t possible. The women here are owned and not ours to give. The men that would come for them would take great pleasure in slaughterin’ their numbers.”
As for the other demand, he could work with it. Maybe.
“As for checkin’ the place, bring your remainin’ men into view and we can continue.”

The man on the horse laughed at the translation. He spoke harshly again before he took two hooked his fingers into his mouth and let out a strident whistle.

Markus looked at Tarmen. "He says if we are not willing to share the women, they will take a few of the men" Markus paused and lowered his gaze at the clear insult. "As long as you are part of the group..."

Before Tarmen could answer back he saw a group of around 20 odd riders appear from a lowrise in the valley floor. The stood whopping and shouting atop their horses around 500 metres behind the man with the frostbite.

His jaw muscles ached at this point, both from fatigue and strain. Just as he thought, he didn’t like the demands. Just as he feared, he really had no other way.
Vastad, Zin, let me rip this bastard's throat out before I die.
Looking to Markus, Tarmen gave a nod to agree.
If it were anyone else he might object, but he didn’t have to think much on whether it was him or Alexis. The time spent in the caves had earned Voah his respect and he refused to see her spirit crushed by these brutes.
Once again he could have laughed at the seeming absurdity of his actions. Just a year ago he might have haggled more, tried to save his own hide, or even started swinging to die rather than be bound.
Here he was, selling himself into whatever hell the Odinine put their slaves through.
It was for his crew, that’s what he reassured himself with.