Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-5543592-20190903154219/@comment-5543592-20191013162036

The man forced the river and rode up to them. His horse was one of the less mutated varieties, only overly large and incredibly hairy.

"I saw you following the river." The man said in perfect English, without an accent. He pulled his horse to a stop, lowering his spearpoint towards the ground to show he meant no harm. "It will lead you past my tribe, I wanted to see if you were friendly."

The stink had reached it's worse, although they would've grown used to it now, as Harriot and Wilkes reached a shallow point of the river, where the current was weak, allowing them to ford it.

They could see the first signs of tribal culture--wooden bulwarks that seemed to be denoting the borders of territory. They were finger painted with black birds in flight.