"Huh," she mumbles, mostly to herself, before coming to at the sound of Breyten's voice, calling her name. "Riders," she says, furrowing her brows. "It looks like -- do you see, it kind of looks like a few riders from Havenglen riding to the encampment over there. With torches?" She looks a little bit longer before adding, with perhaps a little too much enthusiasm, "Maybe we should ride out and meet them."

"Riders, hmm, I mean they could just be bringing word, or supplies. Unless you see something particularly menacing? I'd had to delay and miss our chance at the exclusive" Breyten looked in the direction that Rowan was pointing and could make out the riders for sure, but not much else.

Korvash snaps out of his meditation to hear Rowan and Breyten and watch the riders. "I'm not really sure if I trust those people," he adds in.

"They could be doing anything," she agrees, though with much more enthusiasm, and much brighter eyes. "And," she agrees, looking back toward Korvash, "they could be completely untrustworthy. Or completely trustworthy! Isn't that the thing about being journalists? The whole point is finding out." Her grin is wide, a little crooked, a little mischievous; truth be told, Rowan can find intrigue just about anywhere, in just about anything. How long it lasts is another story, but she's virtually always been drug around end-over-end by her curiosity.

Peace's calm slips.  He feels an instinctual sense of danger, though he tries to mask it.  For some reason, the talk of the riders sparks a special bit of concern.  He peers off and tries to get a closer look at them, looking for signs of hostility. 

Peace only

 Rowan and Breyten -- you know from handling the steeds thus far that, even though the riders have a head start, you should be able to reach the encampment either simultaneously or shortly after the riders, should  you choose to investigate what's going on -- as long as you don't somehow offend them.

Rowan had a point, and it wasn't like Breyten had luck in the past with getting the really good stories. Maybe it was because he played it too safe, maybe it was time to chase something even if it wasn't the obvious choice. "I'm with the group, what say all of you, do we intercept?"

Korvash's mind immediately turns back to Whiskers. Maybe this is the big break we need, he thinks to himself. Like Breyten, he hadn't been really successful. It was time to take a chance. "Yes, I'm in," he briefly adds. "Follow those riders!"

"We can intercept those riders, but I think that what is concerning is at the encampment.  I  don't know if these riders are villians or victims, but something is going on where they're coming from."

At the word "exclusive", Zeenon's eyes turned yellow and the warforged issued forth a report of the remaining time before the three days deadline was up. Immediately afterward, its eyes returned to their serene blue, and it continued looking about at everything that caught its eyes, seemingly oblivious to the group's debate.

The group's decision made, Rowan and Breyten spur the horses on towards the encampment, and the horses surprise you, moving with a grace and speed over the farmland and rolling hills that seems like running through such terrain is completely nature for them.

As you get closer to the encampment, you notice it is actually the ruins of an old temple, and you see a number (somewhere between 12 - 15) of humanoids with animal features. Most of them are huddled together by the entrance to one of the ruins, which looks like some sort of temple. One figure stands alone blocking the group from the riders in front of them. He is massive, standing nearly as tall as Zeenon and he has a huge gut, with a wiry black beard hanging from his chin. His voice is booming and he is clearly aggravated.

"Be that as it may, friends, but we are not moving. My tribe has need to remain here for but a few days longer. We are not responsible for attacks on the Wardens. And I have you know, I was ACTUALLY present at the foundation of this land at the grove of Archdruid Oalian. We have every right to be here."

The leader of the riders, a thin, laconic-looking human spits into the earth, taking a moment before answering. "Now that ain't fair, shifter. We been more than generous with y'all. But people is scared, and we think it would just be better for everyone if y'all just moved along. We don't want to force ya out -- but we will."

The shifter sees you all arriving before the riders and he smirks. "For someone who wants peace, you sure brought along a lot of folks, Samuel. Afraid of what might happen, eh? There's more children and womanfolk here than warriors. Or is it me who has you afraid?" He smiles and you see two smallish tusks protruding from the bottom of his mouth.

The one the shifter addressed as Samuel, turns and looks at you wide-eyed. "They ain't with us. Those is mighty fine horses, mighty fine. This don't concern you strangers. If you're traveling to town, its that way." He jerks his thumb back towards the town.

Korvash greets the tribe of shifters with a wave and a smile. "Like this fellow," pointing towards Samuel, "we come in peace. We are investigative journalists, simply reporting on the attacks on the Wardens. You seem well informed about the attacks. Would you mind telling us anything?"

Persuasion: 7

Korvash wonders if these shifters would be more willing to respond if they were close friends with someone at the Post. Maybe... Whiskers? After all, he is also a shifter. Do they know him?

Insight (if needed): 7

Breyten brought the cart to a full stop and secured the reigns, he nudged Rowan a bit and turned his head toward her to mask a whisper as best he could, "Pictures" before returning his attention back to the scene ahead. He pulled his notepad from his breast pocket once more and began to jot things down on it...

• Shifters Need to stay in the ruins a few more days
• People Scared in town
• Archrdruid Oalian knows the large shifter (Tusks)
• Samuel is the laconic individual

He then sat back and waited for the response to Korvash's question.

(OOC: This is totally Peace's gig, and I will think of a coherent response when I get back from getting food!)

Peace slowly stands up and pops his back, eliciting a slight grunt as he does.  He grabs his cruciate and steps down off the cart.  He looks around at the disruption, trying to get a feel for what is happening while breathing slowly.  He recognizes that this has the potential to get ugly quickly.  Peace looks at the numbers, looks at the postures, and tries to gauge the best way to keep this calm.  He is more than content to allow an opportunity for Korvash's question to get more information from the crowd.

"Fine horses," Zeenon repeats.

"I knew it," she says, mostly under her breath -- though only half as quiet as she thinks she is. What she knew, of course, is rather a matter of debate, but as far as Rowan's concerned, it proves validation of her curiosity. Journalistic intuition soundly confirmed (all other past mistakes disregarded, obviously), and basking as she is in her own decision-making prowess, she only just hears Breyten's whisper; she answers with a grin and a salute, reaching for her camera, though she's decidedly distracted by the horses along the way. After several of those, she at last successfully turns the camera to the shifters. "Hi!" she adds, offering a small wave. 

"Hi," Zeenon says, mimicking Rowan in an imitation one might say is a good one if ones ears were full of wax.

Samuel leans on his saddle and looks at the shifter, smiling broadly. "Why that's a mighty fine question, Beard. What do you folks know about these here attacks? Glad to know someone is asking the hard questions."

Beard seems more irritated than open to answering your questions, at least not in the present circumstance. "I am about as well informed as any man here. My people had nothing to do with it. We just want to stay here for a few more days, maybe a week, and we'll be on our way to Alvirad to the North. I can promise none of my people will even come into town, if you like."

It's around this time, that he notices Rowan pointing the camera at the other shifters. Beard notices it and he lets out a snort of alarm and he tries to step his massive frame in your way -- you probably are able to get one picture off before he blocks your frame. "Hugnghugngnghugh. No pictures of my people, please. We don't need them blared all over Khorvaire in the Chronicle."

One of the other riders behind Samuel, a brawny dwarf, with a bushy black beard speaks up, his tone a little more hostile. "See? He can't even control that boar blood o' his. It's only a matter of time, shifter, before the beast gets the best of ya. Y'all should be put down before you kill someone. "

The man called Samuel raises his hand to stop him and speaks to him testily. "That's enough, Bilick. We came here to speak our peace and we done so. Beard here is a rational man. He'll make the right choice. For our people," he looks over at you all directly as he speaks. "And for his own."

Peace, you notice that Samuel and Beard, perhaps befitting their status as spokespeople for their groups, seem the most calm, but even they are wound pretty tight. Samuel's hand hovers near a nasty looking firearm on his hip, while you see Beard's hands are clenched tightly into huge meaty fists. Of the two groups, Samuel's fellow riders (besides Samuel, two dwarfs and a human or possibly half-elf) seem the most aggressive -- their faces are twisted in a mix of fear and hate while Beard's shifter tribe just seems frankly scared.

In terms of likely bloodshed you really can't tell, but you do get the sense that neither side really wants to make the first move, especially now that there are witnesses (who have identified themselves as press) present.

Peace slowly moves toward the group, making sure to remain as nonthreatening as he can.  He looks at Samuel, "Why are these people being forced out?  They seem to be trying to be respectful, and they plan to leave soon.  Do you have any evidence that they are a threat?"  Peace moves in between Samuel and his men.