We followed Barbed Vale back to the village, which wasn't too lengthy a march. The warclaw, or "journeykin" as the lowlanders call them, got itself a little spun up as we went. We managed to calm it down just in time to reach the gates of Harvest Den, the lowlander village. Barbed Vale led me to a pen for the journeykin and handed me some concoction to feed it. The creature's demeanor finally calmed enough to let me to stand close. Guess we could all use a touch of food when the mood sours. As the journeykin settled into its pen, another voice interrupted us. Stoic Alder, the Claw of the lowland kodan, looked from Barbed Vale to us and asked our purpose. His introduction was brief, guiding us straight toward the biggest lodge at the heart of the village. Likely that haste was to keep his people calm—or maybe it was to keep his unexpected visitors in line. He guided us inside their assembly hall, right into the thick of their own council meeting. Like ripping a bandage from a fresh wound, he introduced us as the Tyrian Alliance. The rest of the council was skeptical; whatever conversation they'd been in the middle of when we entered was now silent. One of the younger kodan mentioned something about "strangers among lands." When I offered intel on the Kryptis, Stoic Alder shook his head. If I had to guess, whatever they're dealing with is a different threat, and they're not quite ready to share. Whatever that threat may be, I did what I came to do: I offered them a place in the Tyrian Alliance. Allies in a world where friends are critical. The Claw seemed less than enthused; perhaps not hostile, but not especially interested so far. It wasn't the time or place. After conversation died down, he invited us to meet the rest of the village council and get to know the village firsthand. The lowlanders seem to operate under one leader, their Claw, who is themself advised by several heads of established disciplines, or "masters." So far, I've met Graced by Fire, the warclaw or "journeykin" master; Fading Aurora, the healing master; Wry Lichen, the lore master; and Barbed Vale, the spear master. I was also introduced to the Claw's son, Poised Arrow, or "Poky," whose self-assured demeanor almost makes me miss the naïve confidence of youth. His father tasked him with showing us around the village, an experience I'm sure will be as eventful as it is informative.