Rosa
Gitten Maith
The Islander Camp, Vallen Taemar

Gitten had never seen so many pigs. She had never _seen_ a pig before this. She had never once been to Taemar, and she had never once been so inland. There was a sea of them, pens, to wild boar to the free walking pink mail carriers. Everyone in the Isles didn't eat pork, either. It was a dirty mainlander food. They shit everywhere, they were fat and bloated and carried disease. The Taemarians looked like pigs, she thought, round faced and pink skinned, with whispy white hair that looked like the spring beard on a young boy's face. She had even watched some of her countrymen _cook_ one. They skinned the fucking thing apart with flaying knives, like they did with corpses or torture victims. They took the carcass and threw it over a massive bonfire on a spinning stick. She had found herself repulsed with the whole display. Then she had smelt it. 

Six glasses of black rum later, she found herself proclaiming her newfound love. 

"And you—" She narrowed her eyes beneath her wide brimmed sailing hat. Her finger jabbed out into the crowd, pointing at a diminutive serving girl. She was a Taemarian. "You mark my words, Mainlander." Gitten leaned forward off the stack of boxes, swinging her legs idly. "I will go to your home, _ta_ _yer_ _'ome_, and I will eat th' pigs in your house." Her crew went wild around her. They had started feeding her pork at sunset, and she had gone through most of a pig. Only the hooves remained. "I will eat your courier pigs too. Before I sail from yer dreary rock I will have eaten all your swine, and bring the last of them back to my ship for the trip home. There is no man, no mainlander or Tonati here that can eat more of these fucking things than me." She placed a drunken hand behind her, and wobblily hoisted herself up onto two feet. The crowd was completely silent, afraid of a fall.

She pumped a fist into the air, "We'll be putting these on me brother's coin!" The Taemarian handmaid ran back to the castle.
Wyatt
*Golifred Ironbeard

The Islander Camp, Vallen, Taemar.*


Golifred saw the commotion with a gleeful smile and an appetite that could rival 10 men, his belly rumbling as he made his way into the camp. As he wore his hat and garb, he didn't look too strange compared to the pirates and others around him. If his hat was off, they'd see the typical bald dwarf and the tattoos of his ancestors in ink black as the night – but knowing that there would be troubles if they knew what he was, Golifred wore the hat to protect himself. 

Throughout the crowd, he could hear the commotion that Gitten caused and the uproar of her sailor companions. Golifred could imagine that where the uproar originated from, there was the food. And from the sounds of it, these people were in very good spirits. Hopefully, they weren't too terribly drunk – though the idea that these folk weren't would be a silly one at that. Drunken people were harder to barter and to trade with, though it depended on how they acted when drunk... Hopefully this time it worked in Golifred's favor.

He soon found himself pushing through some drunken pirate folk, to the middle of the commotion. Oh, the atmosphere was wonderful! Servants, music, alcohol, cooked meats - why it was enough to make a grown dwarf cry. *But not this dwarf!* He was Hungry!

**"Oye, you loht! Yer got any meat left tah spare, und some alcohol ta drihnk? I'll pay ye good fohr a meal!"**

He looked at the pirates around him while speaking but ultimately set his eye on Gitten - she was the woman who caused commotion and looked to be the most important during all of this, so he decided to try and strike a deal.

**"Aye lass, I goht some handmade trinkets of me own makin! I'll trade ye."**
James
*Chisana Lay'kurth
Outskirts of Vallen, Taemar*

A hefty sum of coin, approximately a bag of cooper and perhaps a few silver coins, all so she could buy herself a pack-mule, grey and stout, but nothing extraordinary from its other mule siblings. Though fitted with a saddle, it was one that would not find much use for Chisana, for she's used to traveling on her wooden shoes, only this time did she had enough money to actually make herself a now worn-down leather boot that has seen much use within the village that she barters on. It would be at that same village where she'd hear news of a gathering from the likes of peddlers whom she'd come across from the road, a certain peddler, a friend and teacher, suggested that she go to the area to make some connections with people ― to embark on a journey far from home not for the sake of money, but for befriending new people, it is uncanny but it is reality to traveling peddlers, friendships are more profitable than the coins in pockets, an optimistic view that is well fitting Chisana Lay'kurth ― though it would be foolish to mistake this for wisdom in optimism, it is merely ignorance of what has been established.

A trip of many suns and moons, where the road she takes is not one of dirt and pebble pavements, but rather the voice that stems from not just herself, but also her companion of the sky ― a chestnut brown owl with blue eyes, for every time the girl sings **"Ah, so that way was it?"** The owl coo's from nearby and becomes a guide for Chisana to follow. Walking the grasslands with only a destination in her mind, her resolute vitality to stand against such isolation speaks to her experience on solitary travel, whereas on one hand her pack-mule which carries her belongings, and on the other a staff with a bell, a sort of means of communicating her with her dog, the bell starts to ring and a black dog runs towards her to answer her call **"Hey now, did you get hurt?"** She stopped on her path and repeatedly pats the dog, her appearance would make her seem not too different from a shepherd, their companion dogs can sense danger, as well as to ward off possible wolf attacks.

That isn't to say that she's entirely dependent on her three animal companions, slinging over her shoulder is a self-made bow made with the fletching skill that she's come to start cultivating, though it wouldn't be as effective as civil guard bows, it is most certainly effective enough for precision-aiming ― going by the assumption that no hesitation stops her from releasing the arrow; violence is a part of reality that she chooses to ignore, the world that she confines herself to on her walks was one she could find better solace, as leftovers of a past left by her ancestors. Much of her travels follow a nomadic form, the idea of traveling while entrusting your faith to the animals of the world is very much of this nature, but it is a form of communication that needs not humans to keep them from going delirious ― to simply sing blindly, can make not only one's companions sing back, but also the world around the songstress **"Haa~! Look at that!"** A wide grin spreads across her face, that action of "Singing back" Took the form of a boundless corn poppy field that started to rattle as if to bounce off her voice, and a myriad of birds that fly out towards the open horizon, as if telling them that it was already time for them to continue their migration, much like the traveller herself.

That period of solitude would eventually come to meet its end, listening closely through the walls of the woods would be the sound of rolling wheels clanking against the stone pavements, which would then be paired with the neighing of horses and their hooves stomping against the ground ― was it time to wear the blind-fold, to hide her almond eyes as well as to mingle with this society immediately? No thought Chisana, what's important is to setup a form of camp right outside the bucolic city so as to risk a lesser chance of prejudice and save up coin; though it was because of those blindfolds that she's managed to develop her hearing to a greater extent. She pulls her supplies down from her pack mule and starts to setup tent, using dried sticks and dried pine-cones to start up a fire, not yet using any of the coal she's packed with her, it would only be then when she'd return to feeding her three animal companions **"Sleep well everyone, we won't be leaving for a while"**, she whispered while she leaned on the belly of her mule, making sure to keep watch on them until they fell asleep ― while the girl stayed awake to this time do the warding of threats, and to protect her companions from possible poaching, all while regaining her stamina and writing on her journal.
Rosa
Gitten Maith
The Islander Camp


 In an instant, nearly everyone went silent. They had all sailed over together, and knew when there was an intruder in the camp. The Islanders were not a particularly territorial bunch, but certainly they did know that assassinations weren't uncommon for Islanders in public spaces. At the majority of their hips were scimitars and bucklers, with the King's men sporting crossbows. The dwarf's appearance did little to change the mood of the camp, which still hung heavy with the smell of food and the sound of festival. Gitten placed her hands on her hips and inspected the newcomer once or twice.

"Why..." Gitten's mouth turned up in the corners, "It's a pygmy man!" She began to laugh, and instinctively, her men crowded around the box to help her down. "A Taemarian pygmy man. Avast yerself, pygmy man." She drunkenly stumbled towards him, with a look of assurance that only 6 glasses of dark rum could inspire. She drew her scimitar towards him, wiggling the point before his face with a wobbly hand. "Ye must know this, and know it well. I am not a slaver, pygmy man, but I have 'eard of the wishes you grant. Yes, you may sit with me, eat with me, and ye may even show me yer wares, but I must warn ye, I will want my wish. My men 'ave orders to slice me apart if I ever transport slaves again. But this be a bondage of fate, not of squabbling law and prisoners." She sheathed her blade and removed the hat from her head. Her wiry orange hair was tied up into a thick cord, coiled around itself like a knot of ropes. Her face was golden and dotted with freckles. From her wide and crooked smile. Golifred could see the fire reflected in the mirror of her gold canine tooth. "I am Gitten Maith, Ear Stealer, Conquerer of Amoroth, Black Privateer, and Commander 'a tha First Fleet of House Maith. These are my men and women, all Islanders. We 'ave seen pygmy men before, and they 'ave granted us wishes. Can you perform these miracles?" Her greasy hand was outstretched before her, waiting for some kind of shake.
Wyatt
*Golifred Ironbeard
Islander Camp, Vallen. Country of Taemar.*

Golifred stood there, slightly shocked with the reaction, but keeping a very profound poker face - when Gitten drew her scimitar, the half-dwarf reacted with raising a single bushy eyebrow. Sure he may have been short, but mistaken for a pygmy folk? That was something else entirely. It seems that the islander mistook him for a different breed of dwarf - for Golifred knew that none of his ancestors would've dared be near the seas or pirates. Hell, Golifred was so afraid of water, he didn't even know how to swim! Dwarves weighed more and had less body mass. They had a tendency to sink like a stone.

**"Aye, yer eyes be keen, but you look at no 'Pygmy' man. 'ell if I knew what yer talkin' about my lady."**

Golifred accepted the handshake from her pirate-ness with a grip of iron. It was a common thing with dwarves – a weak handshake was for cowards and children. 

**"The name's Golifred. Aye can't say I got a title like yers, but I do acclaim mehself an experienced blacksmith, and maybe the best below the Witherlands, if you could believe that. If yer wishes involve my skill I could do my best – but for coin of course."**

Golifred was never a fellow to work for free - there always had to be something that he got out of the deals he made. In this case, he would strike a deal for food. In his pocket he kept a selection of handmade rings and a few coins, nothing overly expensive or fancy, but they were well crafted and detailed with a careful eye. His expression turned to a smile as he thought of one of the rings in particular. Perhaps this young woman would enjoy a handcrafted item of jewelry. 

**"Say, if you'd be willin', I got some of the merchandise on me right now. I'd be more than happy to strike a trade with ye, should you be interested."**