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Aluve follows the instructions of the townsfolk. The further they went into town, the more concerned he became with what had taken Branch so long to get them.

"Are the weapons necessary? You out number us and we dont have any....we also came willingly and in peace. I appreciate you being cautious though if this is how we need to do things then I respect it."

Even Aluve with was starting to get slightly irritated now,he looks to Archibald who was not looking impressed in the slightest.

 Archibald says under his breath. "There's no arguing with jumped up bullies. We should've come armed and shown them the error of their ways. We don't need cowards like this."

"Only what was necessary, he will be fine." The half-orc asserts, though Chatcho finds himself much too distracted by the gleaming head of Branch's would-be assailant's axe to tell for sure. With Zue in tow, the half-orc starts moving toward the door, answering Branch's questions simply with, "Aye, you saved my life. And I intend not to let your good deed condemn you, but it does not absolve you either. You are criminals, and we'll be taking our leave."

He reaches for the door. "Shout, or don't shout. We'll fight our way out if we must, but we won't be staying any longer."

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"Ho!" The priest calls, having left the crowd--which now watches with anticipation--and met with the swordsman. The swordsman has sheathed his weapon in the face of his peer and is actively blocking the priest's attempts to pass by and get to the party. He speaks in low tones as he does, not-doubt trying to convince the priest that he should return to his flock, but the other man seems unwilling to hear it. "Do not go with those men, come back this way, they won't harm you, not against my word!"

Despite his promises, the two men flanking the party now draw the strings of their bows to their cheeks, one paying special attention to the newcomer that is the firbolg. "Keep it movin'." the other repeats, growling the words.

Archibald is only too happy to agree with this priest and snub the bully

He heads towards the priest

"You know what?  Fine.  I'm not having you hurt any more of the crew, so leave peacefully and deal with the crazy shit that's going on outside of the boat yourselves.  At least now we don't have any prisoners to worry about."  Branch turns away from Zue and the half-orc and faces Alfried, "Can you take care of your bodyguard here?  I really need to get back, I don't what is going on at the moment and I'm worried." finding the other former prisoner, she asks, "Myrkfithr Sveinninn, will you please come with me?  I hear you are from this area and we would really appreciate your help as we try to navigate this area.  I am unsure how my friends are doing and really want to get back soon."  as she mentions her friends, she looks at Chatcho with a raised eyebrow, wondering if he knows.

Chatcho stands aside for Zue and Axe-Warrior. He regards Branch.

Not well. The Tohr-Kreen/Settled People had trained their arrows on us and Archibald answered one's challenge to ak/combat.

Chatcho turns to Tik-Tik and wills the cat to return to its pocket dimension.

Though, they allowed me to ta/return unimpeded which suggests a willingness to listen. We should return with Myrkfithr Sveinninn immediately.

Their former prisoner and her accomplice exit the cabin without another word. Myrkfithr Sveinninn is slow to rouse, groggy. "Hvat tho vilja?" He grumbles, rubbing sleep from his eyes. It takes a few more moments of prodding and mumbled responses in a language few others seem to understand before he's finally on his feet, and ready to go. "From this area? Where are we?"

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"Please, forgive this young lad and his friends, youth makes fools o' us all." The priest begins, seeing Archibald move back toward him and the troublemaker. Myrkfithr Chetowa joins Archibald in returning back to the priest. Noises of protest follow them, but for all their posturing the priest's promise shows true, and the others do not loose their arrows. Eventually, they lower their bows again, their ruse defeated. "'Ey are of born banamathr, I saw 'e ship myself!" The man hisses at the priest, who waves his words aside. "Look at them, they are not soldiers, they are not 'ven armed."

Again to Archibald, "I am sorry for your welcoming party, roving bands of raiders travel the waters, we have learned to expect the worst of newcomers. Please, please, all of you--come inside the temple, there are people of which you should meet."

Branch does her best to help him to his feet and shuffle the man out the door.  "I have no idea where we are, but your friend said you were from here and might be able to help us out?  Please, we need to hurry."  

Archibald reaches to shake the priest's hand but glares at their would be captor for a moment before turning to the priest with a more neutral expression.

"Luckily, no one is hurt. I have to tell you, we are not armed, but we did not arrive defenseless. We fended off some... Slavers, I think. I understand caution, but this is insane. You will be alone in your fight against them if you treat everyone this way." 

Aluve heads off with the priest also. He contemplates the problems these people must have to be so mistrusting of anyone who arrives at their boarders.

"Greetings holy one" Aluve follows up Archibald's handshake with offering his own hand up for a greeting. "Your people are very.....cautious.....we mean no harm, we could use some insight and information to be honest."

Han follows behind the group keeping a wary eye on the towns folk wary of an ambush from the rather hostile people.

"A-alright." Myrkfithr sveinninn says, gesturing towards the door. "Lead the way."

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As the group evidently decides to go with the priest, he leads them back toward, and through the crowd. The townsfolk give them a wide berth, half out of awe, the other half out of fear. "We have been alone." He mentions as he walks, sighing, "The townsfolk have come to call them 'Born banamathr,' a title whose translation I will spare you." The priest leads them into the temple, and down its long prayer hall, lavished with the finest of what decorum a simple livestock village could produce. "Those people have claimed our humble town here as a village under their domain, they extort us for taxes, goods, livestock. We have a small fleet of two or three person fishing dinghies, but beyond that all shipworks are forbidden, and there are no roads to speak of. The forest proves insurmountable." He pauses in his explanations to cast a glance at Myrkfithr Chetowa. "There are those, of course, who know her secrets..."

"Sam thau ert, runir vilja vera." The woman answers the underhanded accusation, but if the man understood enough of the language to know her meaning, he did not show it.

Archibald turns to the rest of the group. 

"It seems this woman and her people have given many people reason to distrust. I doubt we should trust her either. Not that she tells us anything to trust or distrust anyway..." 

Aluve nods to Archibald. "It is hard to trust anyone in this land.....we just have to navigate these peoples as best we can. You are doing well Archibald."

"How long have they had a hold of your town?...whilst it is terrible you cant leave it may be a blessing. The path we have been on has been extremely dangerous...do you mind if we ask you some questions? Our circumstances are extremely odd and we are searching for answers.....none of us are from anywhere around this place....we were transported here it seems and ever since we have been trying to just survive."

"Ah, yes--The journey. Our humble village was founded by a group of farmers who, like you, found themselves inexplicably transported to this place. Many of them yet live, but it has been some generations since their arrival. Most of the folk you see now, including myself and my war-mongering friend, were born and raised here. As for those sea-bandits? They've been around all my life, but I gather there once was a time they did not hound us so, or so my grandfather tells me." Without breaking stride he continues, "Of course, you may ask your questions. I will answer them to the best of my ability, but I insist that we do not dally--the council would be most pleased to meet you."

The questions come tumbling out now from Archibald. "How big is this place? If you only arrived that long ago, where did the city come from? What are those things in the woods? How do we get out?"

Following Branch’s lead, Chatcho disembarks the Berronar with the Myrkfithr.

As the three of them get to the edge of the ship to disembark, Branch hesitates looking at her weapons.  She looks back at Chatcho to see if he has an opinion on leaving them there or taking them since he knows more on what they are about to face.  She’ll leave them unless he thinks it’s better she grab them and hide them.

 Then jumping off the boat she hurries the man along down the road as fast as she can, looking for Aluve, Archibald, Bramble and Han.  Getting impatient, She runs a bit ahead trying to find them.

"Thankyou sir. Yes well basically what Archibald asked to start with. Do you know of anyone who can help us return? Or a possible way home?..... we have met many creatures and what seem to be people who excrete some kind of black liquid.....we are not sure if the substance brings the dead to life or if it some kind of living thing that takes the minds of the others. Any insight on that?"

Aluve continues with the group following the priest.

"A council? Ok sure we can meet this council" 

Myrkfithr chetowa looks to her new friends, mostly concealing her surprise, "Draugrgenga..."

"The walking dead." The priest speaks in unison with her, his expression suddenly grim, "From childhood, everyone is taught the story. Legend has it that for a short period of time, life was easy on the first settlers to come here. They travelled from whence they arrived, searching--much as you are--for the path back to what they then considered home. It is too long to get into our little village's entire history now, but know that before long their travelling was interrupted. There was a blight, illness spread throughout the community. Those who died, well, not all of them remained motionless. Once they'd ended the illness and settled here, the woods had become dark--angry. Few venture there these days, of those who do, even less return. Our forebears were stuck here, and so the village was founded, and we've remained ever since."

Having stopped in place to contemplate this troubling news, the priest continues walking them to the council chambers. As he does so, myrkfithr chetowa speaks up, adding what she believes. "This liquid you speak of, it is known to me as a spirit of nature. A great tragedy happened in this place, soaked the land, the soil, the trees and all that lives with fear and pain and anger. The land itself is so wrought with pain that it gives life to these spirits, who roam the lands searching for a body to inhabit. They are not of the living, nor of the dead. They are soil given motion, this is why they so poorly inhabit the body." Their walk brings them to a set of double-doors in a private area of the temple, on the second floor. As she finishes, the priest waits patiently. "If you truly have seen one you will understand my meaning, the way they move--like a puppeteer who's never seen a puppet before. I do not believe they can inhabit the mind, however, or the soul for that matter. I am fairly certain they need a corpse of some time, time enough for the soul to depart, and leave nothing in the way of their control."

Gesturing in a welcoming manner, the priest opens the doors for the party, entering a fairly sizeable room, dominated by a large half-circle table that faces a smaller one. The councilors seem to've yet to enter, the room is otherwise empty. As the party file in, myrkfithr chetowa notable does not follow, though encourages the others inside. "My presence would not assist you. Remember the man on the road, some of the people here think me a witch. I shall wait outside for you."

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Myrkfithr sveinninn's eyes light up with recognition once they disembark and begin to enter the town. "I see now, yes. This is... was, my home once." He does seem to drag his feet a little, taking in the view, half-excited to be in his hometown once again, and half something else. Sadness? Eventually, they return to the spot Chatcho last saw the party, on the main-road, not far from the two buildings from which the troublemaker and his associates had approached. The street seems absent of either party, now.

Branch watches the man, unsure of how to read him, hoping he won't become an issue like the half-orc did.  She was definitely more on edge now.  She looks around, but sees no one.  "Chatcho, do you know which direction our group might have gone?  Or a way to get a hold of them?  I don't like this one bit."

She turns to Myrkfithr Sveinninn, "Would you have any idea where someone would take newcomers to this village?"