Omen

JP with Esimed, Winteroak, Bandorchu and Lucian.

Timestamp: Plains North of Ostiarium

The four of you walk into the glow and warmth of the fire and sit on the hides and pelts across from the old woman. One of the blind men walks across to the roasting meat and carves several slices with a curved knife. These he places on a few long green leaves before moving dexterously to place it in front of each of you. None of you can stop looking at his gouged eye sockets and his blue lips. After serving you he moves a short distance away and picks a clay jug that he holds to his chest, standing behind the old woman. The two other blind men resumed beating the drums. A slow and low cadence that echoes through the night.

Tarmen was on edge throughout this odd occurrence.
It was fair that the old hag would know there were others, he would have made the same assumption. ‘Know your enemy’ and all that.
What made his hair stand and his body anxiously taut was the men.
He had burned and buried enough to know the look of the dead. Whether the hag controlled their corpses or they were left behind on the verge of death, Tarmen did not like the look of this scene.
He wasn’t sure if the meat was any good either, though his present concerns made him apprehensive to try. Instead he left it in its place. Perhaps the others would try and he would get his answer.

The meat in front of Alexis remained untouched while she tried to make sense of all this.
For one she was not about to let her guard down in a situation as strange as this. Also she felt high strung and on edge which wasn’t really favourable for her appetite.

Who were these people?

Could they be… some kind of holy people or something? Even back home there were stories about faithfuls that would mutilate themselves in their quest for enlightenment. Maybe it was something like that?

Or was it a punishment, and they were exiled from their clan for some crime?

In any case, as established, diplomacy was the knight’s domain. Probably for the best or she would probably flat out ask, which, also very probably, would be horribly rude at best and a lethal insult at worst.

It would not have seemed achievable that three blind men and an old crone were left alone in the pass to the mountains; lest they had been abandoned to meet their dying fate. Nor would it seem likely that a party comprised as such could have spotted Tarmen and Melandra's approach while focusing their engagement on Zane and Alexis. When Melandra entered the camp, near Tarmen's side, her eyes were sweeping to take in all that she could. 'They knew we were coming?' She thought to herself. 'There are precisely four of us and precisely four of them? They have provisions; not abandoned, but arranged.'

Melandra had knelt on the hides by the fire; rather than sat. She wasn't feeling threatened, but honestly her backside was stiff and aching from all the saddle time. She looked down at the cooked meat and glanced at the others of her expedition. "Thank you for the hospitality, but…you speak our tongue? From whom did you learn to speak as do we?"

The old woman smiled at the group's and looked at Melandra. "Maybe it's you that speak my language, stormrider." She answered enigmatically. The woman looked at the untouched near in front of them. "Are you not fond of horse?" She asked grinning.

Sir Zane's hackles were raised. This woman was clearly more than she seemed and he could not shake.the odd feeling rising inside him that she was here in this particular place and in their path, because of them.

He noticed that strangely it seemed that the shadows at the edge of the camp were getting deeper and pressing on them. As if the light of the bonfire was pushing the solid darkness back.

"Who are you, old woman?" He almost growled" And what do you want with us?" He asked bluntly not in the mood for enigmatic exchanges.

The old woman lifted a clay cup and the blind man poured her a liquid that appeared to be water without spilling one drop.

"I am known by many names. Those of the plains call me Ceres." She started sipping at her cup. "The mountain folk call me Aquira. You and your people on the other hand will come to know me as Omen."

The sound of the drums seemed to increase. It felt like blood rushing inside your head and thorough your ears. The louder the drums beat the brighter the fire seemed to burn, until they could no longer see the stars or the moon. As if nothing else existed in the world at that moment outside of the circle of light.

"What do you want from us?" He asked again.
The old woman chuckled and looked him in the eye."So blunt. You are a true son of your people." She shrugged. "I want very little. Wanted to see what type of people to were."
Her eyes scanned the others. Quick witted Melandra, stoic Alexis and menacing Tarmen.
"An odd group that you chose to join you..." She grinned "I wonder if they know what this mission can come to signify to this land? And themselves." Her smile widened. And you could not but feel a sense of dread at her.