While Erevain attunes to the armour, Al goes to rifle through Targos’ supplies. She finds what she is looking for after a moment: a crude Orcish leather shield, kept from a raid to be used in an emergency or to be recycled.
She takes it and a pitch brush into a corner and frowns over the shield. She was trying to run a proper tribe. If not now, then later. After some grumbling, she paints a couple of Dwarvish runes on the shield. One for the word for ‘freedom,’ and one for the verb ‘to choose.’
Freedom Choosers is a stupid name, her obnoxious subconscious drawls.
Yeah, well it’s not meant to be translated directly, she snaps back. They can choose a better one when we have a minute.
She puts a cover over her shield and goes to find Erevain. "Ready, melindo?"
Alalla nods at the soldiers at the gate, then walks through, Erevain at her side. After a while, she stops to uncover the shield. She tightens the strap around her glaive so that it stays at the top unassisted. She shows it to Erevain. "This stands for the clan name," she gestures to the runes. "It means we come peacefully, since the weapon is useless bound to the shield, and the shield is too high to protect us.
They'll see that we come from the town, but this is only used by chieftains that want to speak to each other, so it's not something that outsiders really have the opportunity to learn about. Even if they are suspicious, they should hopefully be curious enough to let us approach, and the custom is strong. Here." She hands Erevain the standard. "The chieftain isn't supposed to carry it," she says sheepishly. "Raise it high."