All the tribes of the land of Gorder had come to the yearly meeting at the High Rocks. Each came with a force of twenty five tribe men to represent the clans. Each group assembled under their rock that bore their sign. The Heavy Hands, long known as the traders of the tribe, were being loud in discussing the coming meeting. The Blue Boars were not far behind their employers keeping a wary eye on the other tribes while hovering near the Heavy Hands.
The Silvermoons kept their distance from the others having always been distrusted by the other tribes for what many saw as a betrayal of the tribes when they give up fighting the empire during the war.
The Broken spears, a loud bunch of crude hobgoblins gathered under their stone. They did not seem to be taking the meeting seriously as they joked with each other while bullying and pushing the other tribes when they got the chance.
The Aldrins conversed freely with what remained of the Roiga-Tua who threw nasty glances in the direction of the Silvermoons.
The stones of the Grickos, Darkwards and Alisouns were left unattended. Many believed these tribes have long since died out if they even existed such as the case with the Darkwards and Alisouns.
Many other smaller tribes also gathered under considerably smaller stones. They did not have much voice in the meeting but its always been a tradition that all tribes that could should come.
At the start it’s the usual business. Complaints about the empire, minor grudges between tribes. However A Aldrin Mayor Called Bromwick described several problems that have occurred in his village called Farmsrest. Raids by Frog people called Bully-Wogs who sling poison mud at them making the villagers sick with disease. Frequents thefts that the guards don’t seem able to stop. Animals attacking people and their best business being besotted by a vicious ghost and other smaller problems. He asks for the tribes help since the empire seems unwilling to send anymore aid.
A Heavy Hand leader also speaks about a rise of wyverns attacks on local villages and asks the tribes to consider helping him hunt down the lizards and driving them back.
Finally a old man takes the floor. He’s aged considerably and his eyes have the pale look of blindness. He nods respectfully to each tribe and even to the stones of the tribes not their. Than slowly he speaks in ancient words and all the tribes fall into silence. When he’s done everyone is left with a tingling feeling in their spines.
" I have spoke in the old words as my forefathers taught me. Our ancestors guide us in these troubling times…As they always have…" The old man says leaning heavily on his staff of darkwood.
" In times of peril often a group of individuals is chosen by the ancestors. These groups often have done great good for the tribes hance why they were chosen by the dead. I tried to speak to the ancestors but I could not find them, but I rolled the bones and they have given the names for two groups." He says slowly. " I will now name the tribe members chosen by the bones."
“Detroit of the Heavy Hands” He says and a small halfling stepped forward blinking in surprise.
" Hash Gash of the Heavy Hands" He says and another halfling stepped forward.