Truong listens to the accounts of the attack thoughtfully. "Alright. Truth be told, I've been getting reports and rumors of the 'Ao Andon' for a long time. If this guy is for real, I've got a lot of questions for him, so this is a serious windfall for me. I presume you'll be escorting this one," she gestures towards Shisa, "to the temple in the west, right? That's on the far side of Yaht Gurghan, if I remember correctly. Just take the north road until you reach the great bridge--you can't miss it."

She turns to leave, but pauses. "But if I find out that you're trying to pull one over me, I wouldn't suggest coming into Gilgal ever again. Safe travels." With that, Truong returns upstairs.

Takane gave her account of the incident as well, and when the constable bid them farewell, she gave a low bow, as she had become accustomed. "Thank you for your assistance."

Once the group was dismissed, she set about gathering supplies, and then regathered with the party at the western edge of the town.

After getting directions to the temple from Shorg, Zik's offer to thank the Gamorrean with a drink at a nearby cantina is politely refused. The storyteller sees his companions dispersing into the town, and he finds Takane at the edge of the city. "The fork in the road is the stranger's undoing. But I think I know the way."

Chadrik follows Kai as they come up to the group. "Wait," he said confused. "Who's fork was lost?" Kai had to explain to him what Zik had meant. Chadrik nodded sagely upon the explanation.

"Hopefully this western temple will hold more welcome."

Kamoa laughs out loud (and so did his player) at Chadrik's remark about forks. He looks down at Shisa and smiles. "Ok, now that's taken care of, shall we head to the temple of yours?"

"Kssk-kssk-kssk.." Kai shakes his beak at the Rodian's lack of comprehension. "I think he means careful where you tread," the wise Sathari explains, continuing: "Have you ever stepped upon a fork? Skaaaak!"

"Now let us go, vigilant for cutlery in our path!"

Takane smiled, ever so slightly, to herself. "No, Kai, 'fork-in-the-road' is a flowery turn of phrase, meaning the road appears as a fork, with..." she stopped, her brow furrowing. "But wait, the tines of forks are separate but point in the same direction. Otherwise it is useless for its purpose. Maybe it's...no...wait one moment..."

For the next several kilometers of the journey, Takane tried, fruitlessly, to explain the origin of the phrase to the other who did not speak Basic natively.

Kamoa laughed to himself at the exchange, occasionally picking up sticks to throw for Phoon to chase. He turns to Shisa as he overhears the great Fork Debate, and says. "And this is why the diversity of culture and language is so wonderful. How else could a single word provide so much entertainment?" He grins at her and continues on their walk, taking out his pipe and playing a tune. He had to dissuade Phoon from thinking this was another stick to be thrown, but otherwise kept himself amused.

Zik chuckles as the others debate the meaning of the fork proverb. "Sometimes I prefer to eat with my hands anyway," he says with a smile and a shrug during one of their pit stops.

The northern road is well worn and easy to follow, and there are a number of travelers that you pass. Most of them are on foot, coming and going from Gilgal, and a few pass you riding what looks like tall, flightless avians.

The road, for the most part, is lined by the dense forests, and it heads north, slightly inching towards the west. It seems every step the air grows slightly colder, and by early evening the scent of salt and sea is prominent. The wet cold is uncomfortable and piercing.

As evening approaches, Gilgal is long out of sight. You begin to hear it, a dull, churning roar that grows louder and more chaotic every step. The roar of the sea, perhaps? The terrain has grown more hilly, and there is something over the next hill.

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There is 1 setback due to the weather on all checks. Mostly should be countered by the thermal cloaks, but keep it in mind.

Chadrik had his cloak wrapped around him and his hood over his head. He was quite miserable. While the wet, salty air would at other times be invigorating, it now was depressing. A cold, wet atmosphere combined with a lack of sleep led to a grumpy Rodian.

He remained silent as the they trudged through the hills.

Kamoa trudges along with the rest of the group, curling into his thermal cloak. Seeing as they had picked up an extra person, he bought Shisa one as well, and had it draped over her frame when the weather began to turn. He puts on his gloves, partly for another layer of warmth, and in case trouble arises quickly. He scans the area as they walk, making sure to stay close to Shisa as they proceed.

Zik, too, pulls his thermal cloak tight around his slim frame. The roaring sound is a bit off-putting, but the Chalactan follows the others up to the crest of the hill.

Kai is pleased to be back on the road, rid of their unwelcome prisoner. At first he glides the downhill sections, ahead of the party, but the chill in the air quickly has him trudging along with the rest. Arriving at the brow of the hill, he leans heavily on his stick. The roar is deafening, as he surveys the scene below.

The roaring sound puts Takane on edge. She glanced around, looking for the source, her unease rising as the sound intensifies.

When her traveling companions pointed out it was merely the sound of the surf, however, she relaxed her grip on her sword hilt. "There are few seas on Antar 4. I was simply unfamiliar," she admitted defensively.

Bralane walks along stoically, engaging in occasional small talk with her companions. The air is damp and cold, and Bralane reflexively tightens up her all weather cloak to fight off the chill.

As you crest the final hill, you take in the sight before you. Several things are immediately apparent, some more than others.

The forest has been cleared. The terrain has shifted so suddenly from dense forest to sparse rocks, short grass, and patches of snow that it cannot be a natural occurrence. A few trees remain, but nothing compared to the forest that surrounded you on your journey from Gilgal.

You now have a clear view of the sea, and can feel the salty, chilling sea breeze that the forest once protected you from. It's not enough to be debilitating, but the temperature has dropped noticeably. The shore is rocky and dull, and the sea itself is engulfed in a heavy fog that obscures anything a couple dozen meters offshore.

The next is the bridge--or, perhaps more accurately, The Bridge. It is as if somebody laid a tree over to cross a narrow stream, except expanded to mountainous proportions. The dense fog obscures even the extent of bridge, but what you can see is awe-inspiring.

The final thing, dwarfed by the bridge, is a large crowd of what looks like people and vehicles clustered at the threshold of the bridge. From where you stand, you can make out few details.

Shisa lets out a surprised gasp, though not a fearful one. She appears a little bit excited at the sight.

Zik regards the young Human. "What is it, little one? What can you tell us about this place? Or those people?"

"Well, I've met them a few times," Shisa answers. "They don't really call themselves anything, so most people call them the Nomads, or the Caravanners. At least in your tongue. They migrate across the northeast and northwest. They traded with the Temple not too long ago, so they must be crossing the bridge into Yaht Gurphan."

Kamoa smiles a bit at the mention of wanderers, having done it much himself. "I take it they are friendly?" He asks Shisa.

"They always have been," Shisa replies, idly patting Phoon. "They often trade with settlements and towns, so many look forward to have them visit. Though just as many are suspicious, as they are relatively secretive. Many larger towns restrict where they can stay and trade when they come around. I think they only passed by the Temple a few times since I've lived there, and I only interacted with them a little. I wonder if any of the priests have met up with them?"

Kamoa gently pats her shoulder and smiles. "Well let's go find out." He walks ahead of the group a few steps, cups his hands to his mouth and yells out. "Hello!" He then waves a hand broadly in the air to try and get their attention.

To his companions, it may not be evident in his expression, but Kai is smiling despite the frigid air. "The sight of these wanderers reminds me of the Migrators of my homeworld. Wanderers, they visited many Sathari settlements, but called none their home. Instead of dwelling in the tree-cities, they erected immense tent-camps, beneath the crimson canopies of the elrit trees. Acrobats and dancers, artisans and apothecaries, the camp attracted free spirits from across the forested expanse of Arbooine. Drawing from such diversity, the varied plumage present at such a gathering, was in itself a delight to behold... And the sounds! Such beautiful song, as you would not believe.. more melodious even, than my own modest vocalizations! Ketcha-Keee! Swt-swt-swt!"

The tall avian seems genuinely oblivious, that his own poor attempts at such song, are rarely pleasing to any ears but his own.

Zik roars with laughter. "Now that was a yarn, Brother Kai! We'll make a storyteller out of you yet." Using his shockprod as a walking stick, the Human follows the others down the hill. "We'll have to swap a few tales with these Nomads. They must have seen some things."

Chadrik was wondering what apothecaries meant when Kai burst out in some sort of screeching. He almost tripped as he walked down the hill. "Hopefully stories are all we swap with these nomads. I've heard that wanderers can be vicious bargainers."