Prince Gyllen Ch. 23.1

The markings seemed too perfect to have been mere bodypaint, as not a single stripe or spot appeared to have been smudged even a single millimetre out of place despite how far they must have been stealing through the thick underbrush during their, presumably extensive, stalking of the two castaways. It was then that Gyllen noticed these strips to be within very slight grooves scored into the very skin of these hunters by a delicate, but expert, hand, almost imperceptible from a casual glance, then subsequently inked as they healed to permanently dye those specific areas of the epidermis with the winding patterns he and Min now saw decorate their bodies, a practice the prince had read was performed among certain peoples of the eastern continent and he himself occasionally seen adorn the physiques of orcs all the way back in Malmhule's Monster District, albeit of a very different style.

The group of towering females looked on to the human boy and the goblin woman with visible mixtures of suspicion and curiosity, a single one among their ranks yet to lower her weapon. The prince was paralysed with perturbation, still remaining seated with his paws, boots and posterior at least partially submerged within the mud, dreading to make any drastic actions lest they suddenly pounce upon him at the one time and perforate him full of holes just as they had done with their recent quarry. Min, on the other hand, did not outwardly display any such agitation as she openly pottered right on up to the individual standing front and centre of this armed party, every pair of their eyes now focused on the diminutive, green-skinned redhead and what she was about to say.

"Gods, am I glad ya stumbled on us when ya did, sister! Dunno what I woulda done had that nasty blighter taken a chomp outta Goldie over there, so cheers an' a half for that! Tell ya what, he's lucky he fell flat on his arse in th' muck, 'cause I have a feelin' his bottoms were gonna end up brown anyway!" The goblin girl cheerfully cackled to zero reaction from any of the native, stony-faced humans, though Min continued on nevertheless. "Sooo, if it's not too big a bother for ya, wouldja mind walkin' us back t' the beach? In all the excitement, I've kinda lost all sense a' where we were comin' or goin'. That, an' I'm not too keen 'bout bumpin' int' any more monsters wi' nowt but a shank on me hip." Another brief second of silence followed before the huntress whom the goblin was directly addressing then turned to her entourage and spoke a sentence in a language neither Min or Gyllen could understand before her empty hand shot downwards and seized the short woman by the wrist, hoisting her clean off her feet high into the air in the same breath until she was nearly eye level with the six-plus foot tall human faster than the goblin realised what was happening.

"Hey, hey! I appreciate the thought but me legs work fine on their own!" Min joked in response to being lifted as casually as if she had been a ragdoll, though her tone of voice and expression of face indicated that she was not altogether keen about being snatched up as such. "Put me down!" She then growled as she began to kick and flounder where she dangled by the arm in an effort to free herself like a live fish freshly plucked from a pond, making her attitude on the matter overt if it had not already been, though the tattooed huntress did not slacken her grip in the slightest to her resistance.

Seeing this, Gyllen did not hesitate in taking action and began to turn with a determined glint in his sapphire gaze, about to raise himself back up to his feet and sprint to aid his friend in distress while demanding to know what they thought they were playing at regardless of the language barrier, though what his fragile, petite, unarmed lonesome could have possibly done against ten fighting-fit huntswomen each brandishing a fierce weapon they had already demonstrated proficiency in he did not know, nor was he ever able to find out as two such females leapt forth the very moment they saw him move a muscle and poised their spear-points a scant inch away from his jugular in the same motion, discouraging the prince from his resolve in an instant as his eyes widened with worry and his Adam's apple bobbed with a nervous swallow.

The next thing the prince and Min knew, their hands were bound tightly together with a single piece of rope and they were being ushered along the jungle in agitating silence, neither daring to strike up any words between them, but neither did their captors even engage in idle conversation in front or behind, with only the ambient, underlying chatter of wildlife amongst the trees preventing complete quiet. The strandees were guided in this way for a long while, though the exact passage of time was difficult to determine with the dense canopy blocking any clear view of the sun's position, the cord being given a sharp tug whenever either of the prisoners faltered in their step on the uneven terrain to force them to maintain their pace, crossing the river at one point further upstream over a large fallen log acting as a bridge.

At least an hour seemed to pass by until Gyllen and Min were at last brought to the borders of the bush, but instead of a beach and the ocean, they were greeted with the sight of an expansive flatland of golden grass that seemed to stretch for miles ahead and skirted by hills in every direction bar directly behind where they had emerged and sparsely populated by a few tall trees with white bark, skinny trunks and a myriad of spindly, crooked branches sprouting a comparatively scarce amount of greenery in their crowns that could provide no substantial shade, and they were able to even see the river's course continue to run from out the jungle and into the hills due to their left-hand side. The Snjórlandic pair were only able to admire the vista for but a fleeting second before they were once again ushered through it by the indigenes, though at least the forced march was made marginally more bearable on their feet thanks to the levelled earth, but they were once more at the mercy of the unhampered rays of the sun.

During their slog across the plain, Gyllen noticed a plethora of strange animals he had never so much as ever heard documented before, let alone seen with his own eyes: bipedal mammals with beige fur almost as tall as he was bounding across the land at quick paces on powerful legs; wingless, large-bodied avians with black-and-brown plumage standing on long, thin limbs and their long, thin necks extending earthwards to pecking at the ground for morsels, and some small critters resembling big-eared teddy bears with grey coats could be seen leisurely climbing up and down the lean trees to feed on their leaves.

Eventually, they were brought to a small corner of the savannah where the ground steeply inclined high above any of the natives' heads into a knoll that stretched horizontally far more than it rose vertically, and topped with a line of brambles running the entire length of its peak like a natural fence save for one small section where the barrier abruptly depressed close to the level ground, enough so that one could walk over and reach the other side, with even a short, visible trail of worn grass extending up and over this opening to indicate it was a spot trodden over by countless feet over a very long period of time, which Gyllen and Min shortly contributed to without much say in the matter.

The other side of this hurdle was further enclosed by hillocks of likewise altitude forming almost a perfect ring around a thin coppice of scattered trees, through which a clear pathway cut straight through and lead to what appeared to be a collective of simple structures and propped canvases. The prince and the goblin were led to the end of this trail and shortly found themselves in the middle of what turned out to be a type of village built upon a wide patch of reddish dirt, albeit one limited only to some small, single-storey shacks with planked walls and thatched roofs, and erect tents patched together from hide flayed from a variety of animals, all looking inwards to the wide, empty centre that held only a large firepit currently not in use which itself was surrounded by a circle of stones.

Quite the commotion had started to stir upon the arrival of the party, though Gyllen suspected the cause was entirely his and Min's own upon seeing tattooed faces peeking out from windows and doorways to stare agog in their specific direction before they finally emerged from their hiding places to take closer scrutiny of their unwilling guests: females of all ages ranging from young adults to those on the latter half of middle-aged, many utterly devoid of clothing to conceal their modesty and all either matching or exceeding Gyllen's own height, though not every villager possessed the same statuesque physique as those who had captured him and, as was the case with the hunting party before, there did not appear to be a single male amongst their numbers.

A sizeable throng had soon gathered around the prince and Min, all chattering to one another in the same language which neither of the two outsiders understood, though it could be easily surmised that they themselves were the subject of the discussion considering how alien they must have appeared towards the aboriginals.

"Hey, Gyl? Reckon they're gonna stew us alive in some great big pot?" Min then whispered aside to the blond, to which he looked at her with an aghast expression as the slight colour in his face drain in an instant. "I remember hearin' stories here an' there durin' me seagoin' days 'bout folk on islands completely cut off from th' rest of the world who chow down on other folk unlucky enough t' find themselves trespassing' on their turf, an' I can't shake th' feelin' that some a' 'em are eyein' me up th' same way I eye up a juicy rump roast durin' dinnertime..."

"L-let's not jump to madcap conclusions, Min. After all, there's a clear communications issue afoot here that is the root of this major misunderstanding." The blond was prompt to respond. "Why, we'll be back on the beach unscathed within the hour once they realise we're harmless, you'll see." The prince quickly added, though the tight bindings still chafing around his wrist made it difficult for even him to fully believe in his own words.

Not long after he had said this, the crowd fell quiet and began to part down its very centre to allow passage for one particular individual who seemed to have been of some major import considering the other villagers' universal reaction towards her slow, shuffling approach, though one would be hard-pressed to tell: she was a shrivelled old woman, standing just a little over the goblin's own height, albeit somewhat hunched, with stark white hair that curled down her back and over her shoulders for almost the entire length of her body. She wore a baggy, ragged gown that trailed along the ground behind her, decorated with black plumage, and in one tiny, quivering hand held a gnarled stick almost as twice as tall as she which curled at the top like a shepherd's crook from which hung freshly picked flowers with pink and yellow petals alongside the small needle-like bones of an unidentified critter.

"Hail to thou, Gold One!" The crone then abruptly proclaimed with a volume unbefitting her age and stature, raising her free arm high into the air with fingers splayed like a strange sort of greeting as she looked up towards Gyllen, one eye milky with blindness and the tattoos on her face visible but faded on her wrinkled skin.

"Um...h-hail...?" The prince responded a second later after flinching from the sudden shout, not entirely how he should conduct himself after this example of unexpected etiquette while he was still bound like a convict, or even what would be considered polite in the context of this particular community's culture of which he knew virtually nothing of. However, such a minor worry vanished in a heartbeat once the sudden realisation dawned on him that he was able to actually understand the words with which the elderly woman spoke as plain as day, even if they were in an unfamiliar accent. "W-wait, you can speak Snjórlandic!?"

"It is Karatgurk priest role to learn Gold One speech." She would answer, though her fragmented grammar signified that her grasp on the language was not perfect, and her enigmatic reply only left Gyllen with more questions than he already did, though the crone continued before he could ask them. "Many cycle pass since thou first arrive at Karatgurk Clan. Hast forgot Karatgurk, Gold One?"

"Forgot? I've not so much as heard of Karatgurk in all my life! I don't even know where in the entire world I currently am for that matter! And why do you keep calling me 'Gold One'? You sound as though you're familiar with me, but I can assure you that we have never met once prior to this instance, my good lady." Gyllen asserted, his confusion running high. "Now I kindly request that you undo these cords on me and my friend here so we can be on our way back to the beach. I know not how you came to learn of Snjórlandic, but I can assure you that there has been some grave misunderstanding here."

The old woman was silent for a moment before she turned her head and said something in her native tongue to one of the huntresses who had been standing guard over the blond and Min during this talk, who then unsheathed a large, serrated knife from out a leather scabbard and cut the bindings free from the respective wrists of the village visitors, leaving tender red marks around where they were tightened which they both rubbed in an attempt to sooth the aching.

"Spirit of white skin and gold hair who cometh from land beyond sea. That is Gold One, and Gold One is thou." The elder spoke once more before either Gyllen or Min had a chance to even consider taking an expedited leave. "Gold One with attendants at side first cometh at Karatgurk long, long ago during time of great difficulty in this land. Famine, drought and war were only plentiful things. Gold One and attendants help Karatgurk, bring many food and clean water and battle together with Karatgurk, and Karatgurk help Gold One build great vessel after for Gold One and attendants to return to spirit land in gratitude. But now Karatgurk face calamity again! We pray and pray long time at spirits for Gold One return to Karatgurk as thou done in past. And now, after twenty cycles praying, thou of white skin and gold hair, appear to Karatgurk again at long last! I speak for all Karatgurk Clan when I beg thou help us, Gold One!"

"Sp-spirit?" Gyllen was beyond flabbergasted by this explanation, even Min was shewing signs of equal astoundment. "N-no! Not at all! Why, I'm just as flesh and blood as you all are!" It was then that something finally clicked in Gyllen's mind, like she had relayed to him a story he was already familiar and he himself had very recently told someone at least a little similar. "Wait...this 'Gold One' of which you speak...do you know what his true name may be?"

"Is test, Gold One?" The old woman raised her brow upon being asked the very specific question. "Thou not worry. Karatgurk wise women remember thou true name perfect, and thou true name is Ek-Bon-Bere!"

"Ek-Bon-Bere...? Ek-Bon-Bere..." Gyllen repeated the unusual denomination several times under his breath, elongating the pronunciation each time as if trying to recall a vague memory of where he may have heard it once before.

"Ya finally gone bonkers over there, Gyl?" Min eventually interrupted his mumblings, her own patience beginning to thin once again.

"Well, don't you understand, Min? Try saying the name yourself: Ek-Bon-Bere...Erik Blond-Beard...now do you see? It's the name of Erik Blond-Beard, only greatly distorted over the course of a century as it was passed down the generations! We're standing in the very same land that he was marooned on all that time ago, and I'm willing to wager that we are in the presence of the very same tribe he had chronicled! I mean, his story lines up with too many aspects we have seen today alone to just be mere coincidence, don't you agree?"

"...Reckon that's a bit a' a stretch there, Goldie, me ol' mate. I mean, ya don' even have a beard, do ya?" Min simply responded after a brief moment staring at the prince as if he had snapped and gone crazy, making him roll his eyes from having his self-perceived sound hypothesis rejected by the goblinoid without a second thought. "An' while I'm at it, why'd they have us tethered up like crooks if ya think he's this 'Gold One' or whatever, eh?" The redhead added, this time directing her words to the elder who seemed slightly taken aback by the frankness with which she was just addressed with compared to the comparatively polite conversation of the prince (not to mention the goblin's unusual dialect).

"Thou may hast be wicked daemon in guise of Gold One to deceive Karatgurk and bring greater disaster than Karatgurk already face and hunters be careful of like things, but thou many denying of being Gold One prove thou not daemon, for daemon would claim to be Gold One first right away...though green imp who follow thou trail still very strange..." The elder expounded as Min's face soured upon what she had been interpreted, providing Gyllen with some much needed amusement though he stifled his giggling at the time. "However...again and again thou deny being Gold One even after Karatgurk prove faith, and thou sheweth only vague knowledge of Karatgurk...perhaps thou not same Gold One...perhaps thou Gold One kin? Or Gold One reincarnation?"

"Listen, whatever the case may be, I think I've made it pretty clear that I am not who you think I am! Good grief, it feels like we're going around in circles and circles here..." Gyllen postulated, growing increasingly exasperated. "Now if you'll excuse us, we'd best make leave back to our...um...'spirit land' as it were. We're probably in enough bother as it is with how much time we've wasted here..."

"Yeah, no doubt we've incurred th' wrath a' th' devil-cap'n a' th' Killer Kraken jus' by hangin' about flappin' our gums t' you lot." Min added, just about ready to leave alongside the prince, but evidently their sarcasm was lost upon the second-language speaker.

"I beg Gold One! I speak for all Karatgurk when I request thou hear disaster nature that plague Katagaruk before thou make decision!" The crone suddenly snapped, whether she truly believed Gyllen to be such a powerful entity or not, and with such sudden vigour that was enough to make the prince freeze in his spot through fright alone. "As thou see, only women in Karatgurk Clan. Has been clan law as long as clan exist. Men weak, men stupid, men lie, men steal, Karatgurk stronger without men! But men needed for Karatgurk continue existing. Pact once made with Wurugag Clan, benevolent for man-clan, to couple with Karatgurk once every cycle and keep both clan line strong and alive: daughters to Karatgurk, sons to Wurugag. But Wurugag forced to move to lands beyond hills long ago, leaving only clans led by wicked men in this land who want steal and kill Karatgurk! No child has graced village for twenty cycles."

Gyllen listened intently as the closing sentence was spoken in a grim and dire tone which carried a universal weight, not needing her point to be expounded any further to know the implications that were in place if indeed her words rang true, but even still he surveyed the onlooking crowd regardless in vain hope that her claim was false, but not matter how closely he observed what must have been the entire village's population, as scant as it may have been even for a settlement of its size, not a single juvenile could he spy anywhere amongst the assembly or hiding in the huts and tents behind. It was also during this time when he noticed the dour faces seemingly every one of the native women wore, returning his look with dark eyes that bore several years' worth of sadness in each and every one of them knowing their clan faced potential extinction, and only now have their hopes been somewhat lifted for the first time in gods knew how long with his advent. The prince could not help but to feel a sense of guilt weigh in his heart - especially after how flippantly he had hand-waved the whole affair and was just about ready to take leave without so much as another thought to this Karatgurk Clan's crisis - as if he held a partial responsibility in spite knowing that his entire being there in the first place and their perception on what he was was nothing more than a freak series of accidents and coincidence...but he also got to thinking that perhaps his role in these matters may have actually all been preordained by the Norns? There was certainly one method he could conceive of that perhaps could aid in their plight...