~*driftling slowly along through the thick marshes of the vosk delta. Your vision blocked to only a few paces around You. Your craft moves slowly through them. Its tip parting the tall grasses. The cries of Marsh Gant cry out all around You. Or are they? Are they really Wild Gant? A river Tharlarion thrashes in the water beside You with startles You briefly. Your craft slowly passes a white cloth tied to the root of a rence plant. You take it as being a trail marker and You move Your craft along. Slowly through the marshes the cry of gants stops. Your heart pounds in your chest at the eery silence that roars on. The high grass to either side of You give way as You are surrounded by a rush of small, quick well balanced crafts. The crafts of the rence people. Men standing tall upon them. Longs spears angle towards You. The leader of this patrol gives His nod and speaks. "You have stumbled upon the island of the Rencers, this is OUR domain. We shall guide You to Our island. You have one days rest and food and be on Your way" He turns away and the slave at the back of His craft maneuvers His boat forwards. You having no other choice but to follow. Partly in utter terror. But also, In fascination. And the fact You are low on supplies*~

Tal Traveler. I am The Overseer, The overseer of Akas Of Agula. I understand My patrolmen have come apon You? Welcome to Our humble home. Our ways are swift, strict, and We are true to the gorean ways. As best We can.

I offer You food, shelter, paga, and a clash of steel, in return, That You respect OUR Ways.

(Warning. This is a Kill, Capture, Forced Collaring Zone. You have been warned)