Robyn
It had been another fairly foolish venture, but Carver was well known for them by now. In fact, it happened so often now that he'd even given up using the excuse of searching for extraplanar portals, those elusive doorways by which he had originally found this huge, diverse world. Now it was simply in the name of better understanding the world he had come to claim as his home. 

The latest adventure had been in the search for that elusive group known only as the Dragonsworn, said to have been guarding ancient secrets since the dawn of time given to them by the dragons of old. Carver had met many a creature in his time, including ghosts, demons, and even once an undead dragon, but never once had he come upon a living, breathing dragon, and if that wasn't an adventure unto itself, he didn't know what was.

He'd earned another small handful of money in the company of a young noblewoman in Elsir Vale who had been convinced that he was *The one* For her, but when her father had gotten serious about making things official, it was time to move on, so the young tiefling had purchased a horse and supplies and struck out for the southeast. 

It had been a mistake, really. He could admit that now, lost and wandering on foot after the horse and the last of his supplies had been lost to a massive band of goblins. He was cold, hungry, and very alone as he clutched at a handful of bright red berries in his hand, trying to determine if they were poisonous or not. If they were, hopefully they wouldn't be *Too* Poisonous— or at worst, maybe poisonous enough that it wouldn't matter. 

With his tummy grumbling loudly, he raised the berries to his mouth and began to chew, rising to his feet once more to begin walking once more. There had to be *Something* Up here, a hut or a village... Someone with just a sliver of compassion and a willingness to give him just a bit of food.
Kelly
Yorick, the human rogue, was nursing his pride at having lost the hunt to that bloody Tiefling for the second time. He was scouting the perimeter of the camp when he saw the white flash of hair trudging through the mountains. 

He was out of place, that was obvious as he knelt down to pick and then eat some poisonous berries. Yorick shook his head as the slight stranger took a few steps towards the camp before he started to sway. The rogue followed close behind and waited for the stranger to fall.

Yorick scooped up the newcomer and carried him to camp. If Vaakha really was growing tired with Blight, a new pet would get him back in her good graces. As he made his way back to the camp her was met my Hassmir.

"Well, well, well. Look what the crabbit old cat dragged in."

"Fuck off Haasmir!" He spat at the now half drunk tiefling.

Haasmir circled the rogue and his new prize. "Pretty. Oh, one of mine. Let me see him."

Yorick pulled the unconscious Carver free from their grasp. "He's not for you. I'm bringing him to the chief. He's an intruder."

"He's dead more like. Hang him in the hold. I'll tell the chief we have company."

Yorick tied the tieflings hands together and strung him up against the tent pole leaving his feet dangling slightly off the ground. He rubbed a foul smelling plant under Carver's nose. "Wake up boy. You wandered into the wrong camp."

The rogue left the tiefling tied up in the hold tent.
Robyn
Carver woke to the vilest smell and one of the worst headaches he could remember having, and the pain in his bound wrists supporting his body weight— lessened as it was from a couple weeks of starvation— wasn't helping. He groaned painfully as the rogue left him there in the dim light of the tent, wondering how he had ended up here. His sword had been lost with the horse, but he'd had a knife, but a pained glance down to his hip verified that it was now also gone. 

Wiggling his feet to cause his body to sway back and forth, it wouldn't take the young tiefling long to determine that he wasn't going to be bringing the entire rigging down to free himself. He was stuck here until someone released him, and it seemed logical to expect that being tied up in the first place amounted to that being highly unlikely.

More than ever it seemed so stupid to have left the posh life in the Vale. Whatever they were, these people surely weren't dragonsworn, and Carver wondered if he'd even escape this place with his life. He had nothing of value to offer, and more than half-starved, he doubted he could even work as slave labor for any length of time. 

All he could do was hang there, sulking, and wait.