Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-25828117-20160902215054/@comment-25828117-20170817145048

Meanwhile 

A group of strangers arrived at the port of the town of Prince-Roger on northern Kauai island. The town had become the capital of the principality, the shining jewel of a civilization on the brink of progressing beyond the tribal level. A palace constructed out of thatch and wood looked out over the city from a cliff side to the east. A winding road led down into the town which had dirt streets crossing in between the houses. Not a single one of them was a ruin from before the war. Almost everything in this city was made from scratch by a post-war society.

Prince-Roger had its own art and culture, the United States or the Polynesians that had come before were nothing but a distant unrelated memory. The people of the principality would on occasion find an artifact from those who had come before, but it was as much use to them as it was for the Germanic tribes that walked among the ancient ruins of the Romans.

The ship that arrived in the port was something they had never seen before though. A modern ship with a fusion engine that brought with it, men in camo-uniforms, holding machine guns and rifles the likes of which they also had never seen.

The portmaster nervously signaled to the guards that 'they' had arrived again, urging the younger one of them to quickly run up the winding road.

The 'they' in question were the preachers. Not the same ones that were chasing down Randall and Martha though, these ones looked more important. And bored... Prince-Roger appeared to be nothing note-worthy to them, with the exception of the their leader.

An older man, wearing a khaki safari shirt that was fastened around his waste with a utility belt, equipped with a machete and a revolver. An ancient thing from even before the war: A LeMat Revolver. Perhaps this man's revolver revealed his interest in antiquities which might be why this faux-primitive society appealed to him more than his men, whom held their weapons military patrol ready and smoked cigarettes instead of adoring the sights.

It took a few minutes but eventually the signal that the preachers had arrived, had reached the palace and they were allowed to proceed to the residence of the current regent, Roger. Whom had only recently named the city after himself.

The leader turned to his men with a polite smile and beckoned them along, ordering them to put out their smokes as well. The remnants of which were studied in awe by the portmaster that picked it up in fascination.

Curious stares followed the preachers as they were led by guards of the prince up to the palace. The old leader lamented the fact they could not study the populace but he knew his orders and they were a priority. The palace outdoors was adorned with woodwork sculptures. Not completely anatomically correct likenesses of the rulers that had come before, but it was possible to distinguish the oldest from the youngest leaders by way of detail in the craftsmanship, the artists and their tools were rapidly improving in this society, that much was clear.

The palace guards had headbands adorned with what looked like peacock feathers, making them stand out against the regular guards. The leader of the Preachers smiled at them with a nod as he passed them. Between the guards and the preachers it appeared only the old leader was feeling comfortable. Beyond him the atmosphere was rather cold as the outsiders were closely monitored with suspicion. Likewise the preachers appeared ready for an ambush any second now.

Ultimately the preachers reached the throne room where Roger was waiting for them. He sat in ceremonial garb on the delicately crafted chair.

The room was big and wide, there was no wall behind the throne, only a wall-wide balcony overlooking the ocean and town from a rather romantic angle. Crude banners hung from the side walls, all of them supposedly depicting the same icon but the craftsmanship and colors varied greatly between them.

Roger was a portly feller. Not even his colorful clothes could disguise that. A sunburned face that tried to look dignified and greasy curly hair escaped from under his crown.

"Come, Sir... Approach and state your business." The prince officiously ordered, appearing unmoved by the arrival of his guests.

The leader of the preaches grinned and nodded after which he casually strolled forward. "I am Oswald Thurston, head of the Preachers Expeditionary Group in this area..." The man trailed off towards one of the banners to inspect it more closely. "You have met our scouts before?"

The prince appeared a bit offended that this outsider didn't abide to their customs and greeted him like any subject would, but didn't reprimand Oswald for doing so.

"Yes. Their offer was very clear."

Thurston quickly turned to the prince and approached him.

"Excellent, I had heard you were a reasonable man, Prince Roger. We find this girl, this... 'Martha', for you and bring her here, alive... And in return we get are allowed into the cave of trials outside of the city and take as much of these as we want."

Oswald dropped a piece of rock in front of the prince.

"It's just a rock... There's nothing special about it." The prince again grinned, he had said the same against the scouts and still didn't quite understand what these preachers wanted with dirty grey rocks. They weren't shiny or pretty, they appeared to hold no value whatsoever.

"Then you won't miss it, will you?" Thurston beamed pleasantly.

The prince smiled back. "I suppose not. But very well. A deal has been struck. You may have as many ugly stones as you want when I get Martha back..."