"You continued talking to me, so I did the same to you. And you turned my peaceful words into racism so I can do the same to you as well. Turnabout is fair play, don't you think, or are your little heads to small to do that?"
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Gronk in Bastion, Kingdom of Medrin Elixisysin Talaveroth (Team 2) Uthal in Lost Continent of Theviranne
“Sorry, friend.” Nik said to Anearis, before peering around the elf once more. “No ones talking to you. Can you not see the wiry elven fellow standing in front of us? We have no more time for your blatant discrimination, or your ignorance about how a ‘turnabout’ works. Good day, sir!” Nik then returned to Anearis with a ‘shit eating grin’ on his face. “I know some big words, I do. Now I don’t mean ta be rude, but your big for nuffin friend keeps interrupting.”
This entire time, Nack continued rolling on the ground, laughing.
Anearis attempted to speak, but was always cut off by either of the dwarves. He had hoped they could be good neighbors for the night. But even the elf was starting to be annoyed. And Uthal seemed to be on the verge of losing it with these two and the elf didn’t really appreciate them mocking the goliath.
"Perhaps you two should go back to your tent. You have done nothing but harass my friend, calling him stupid, disrespectful and treating him like a primitive. I will not suffer your mockery any longer." Anearis said. He rose up from the stone he was sitting on. "Leave us be!"
“Defensive and sensitive just like the giant, Nack.” Nack laid on the ground a few moments after finishing laughing. Finally catching his breath, he stood, and turned with his brother. “You’re right, Nik. Stands by his friend, even when in the wrong though, gotta give ‘me that.” “Aye. Hope that’s enough though, their in fer a world of hurt, if some good old ribbing is all it takes to make lose it.”
The two dwarfs shuffled back to their camp, and their own party around the fire, talking the entire way back.
"Who were those Nits and Gnats?"Ura wonders, looking unsatisfied. "I tried to clean them out, but they didn't even have lint in their pockets!" she snorts, crossing her arms. Then she looks at Anaeris. "You have a lot more patience than I do. Those two fools didn't seem dangerous, but I'm still kinda thinking of going over there and feeling the rest of their camp out." She looks over her shoulder at Uthal, trying to pray, or maybe just trying not to grind his teeth together. "You want to come with and prevent this from becoming a diplomatic incident?"
Uthal looks up again. "If I come now someone dies. If you go it's best to do it without me. Shout if you need help, the goddess has given me new gifts that should be fun to use on those fools."
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Gronk in Bastion, Kingdom of Medrin Elixisysin Talaveroth (Team 2) Uthal in Lost Continent of Theviranne
"Oh, I meant Anaeris. That carnage would follow if you came with me was a given," Ura clarifies. She shrugs at Anaeris. "You know how I am. I go, I talk, I put my foot in my mouth. Well, can't be any worse than those two, though. Still, I want to make sure they aren't going to gut us for our rations in the night."
The sky has not yet turned black, but since arriving in the clearing and setting up camp, the sun had at least sunk below the hills to West.
As Anearis and Ura approach the other party, an arrow lands just in front of their feet, sticking into the ground. It was fired by a figure standing next to the camp fire, who was otherwise obscured, by one of the tents, while sitting. The figure was tall, and wore a dark green cloak, and hood pulled over his head. Beneath the cloak was a set of dark gray hide armor. A set of pale blue eyes beneath the hood, sat just above a long thin wooden pipe puffing smoke. A long bow rested at his side.
“What’s your business, travelers?”
The two dwarfs from before were nowhere to be seen, though another individual sat at the fire with the cloaked figure; dragonborn. However, unlike the narrow faced red, almost snake like head of the Arbitrator, this one was black, with large bone-white horns framing his face. He wore robes of black and crimson, draped about his frame . He too was smoking a pipe.
“Well, when their ‘passing through’ by walking directly to our camp, uninvited. Yes, I’d say an entirely appropriate greeting. If it was truly hostile, it would have been aimed at you, not the ground.”
Positioning the bow upright against the ground, he reached up and repositioned his pipe.
“Now then, as I asked before; what business do you have here?”
„We just wanted to return the favor,“ Ura says, crossing her arms. „Seems unsociable to let an invitation go ignored,“ she adds. „Of course we must be doing something wrong here. I was under the impression given by those Gnit and Gnat fellows that your camp would‘ve been expecting the two of us walk right up to you and try to fondle your weapons as a way of greeting. I‘m Ura by the way, and that‘s a real nice bow.“
The Dragonborn turns towards Ura and Anearis And gestures with his scaley claw like hand. “Greetings travelers, what brings you to our camp at this late hour?" However, the invitation towards the fire is stunted by the cloaked bowman, who looks down and says to him. “Hospitality is not what we’re paid for. Are you ignoring the earlier warnings, or did you just not hear them.”
He turns his head back to address the two elves, but making now further movements.
“Rather than be a smart ass, perhaps you want to talk straight with us. You can’t recognize the idiotic nature of two child-brained dwarfs for what it is, then assume to act in kind. So before I too consider this interaction to be hostile. What is your business here?”
„Well very bluntly. We wanted to know who you are, what you‘re doing here, where you‘re going, and if this clearing is big enough for the two of our camps to peacefully coexist. In fact we were planning that well before those two dwarven emissaries decided to come over and interrupt our cleric‘s funeral service to harass him about his weaponry and parentage. As they made the first move, however, they turned the while business sour. We lost one of our own on the mountain, see, and everyone‘s nerves are a bit raw right now.“ Ura uncrosses her arms and sighs.
“Listen, I feel like we got off on the wrong foot here, but you have to understand. Your two tag-alongs are out of control and spoiling for a fight. At the very least you should rein them in before you meet folks with less patience than us on the road. That being said, if you‘re willing to trade names, we could consider this starting afresh. And everyone knows, it‘s better to make friends on the road than enemies.“
While Ura spoke, the dragonborn stood, and he and the bowman exchanged hushed words, though both seemed to still be focused on Ura, at least giving part of their divided attention towards her. The dragonborn stepped from the campfire, a dimly lit lantern at his belt, illimuniating a foot or two around his feet. Reaching to where the the arrow landed, he stopped, folding his hands in front of him, fingers interlinked ((approximately 5 feet from Ura and Anearis)). A smell of clove and vanilla wafting towards the elves, from him.
"Well then...let's see..." The dragonborn emptied his pipe and stowed it. "A research group, resting for the night, going to a site to do...scholarly things. The dwarves were being themselves and we are not their mothers nor caregivers."
A disembodied voice called out from one of the tents. "Dwarf haters, the lot of you."
The dragonborn continued, ingoring the outburst. "I will not apologize for their actions any more than you should apologize for conducting funerary rites despite it being an affront to their core beliefs." As he said it, he pointed back in the direction of the dwarf's voice, before folding his hands once again. "A word of advice elf called Ura, there are wolves in the woods and they will eat you regardless if friend or foe." Another voice interjected, with some annoyance in it's tone. The annoyance however wasn't directed necessarily towards the conversation, but rather something triggered by the dragonborn's last statement. "They're not wolves.Everyone always thinks there's wolves in Belleau Woods, they're not wolves, they're hell hounds. It's an important distinction, dragon." The bowman finally forthcoming with information, though more just of general knowledge, rather than requested answers.
"Now. Very bluntly as you say. Who are you, what are you doing here, where are you going, and is this clearing big enough to balm your bruised and tender skins?" The dragonborn remained stone-faced and serious during the entirety of his speech.
Anearis looked at Ura for a second for a sign that they are both in accord. "My name is Anearis. My friend here already introduced herself as Ura. We stopped here for the night and to grieve. If that is an affront to these dwarves' beliefs, that is there problem, not ours." His tone was serious, trying to maintain his calm as best he could. "We are trying to find a friend. He was going this way and we are following his trail." He took a deep breath, closing his eyes. This was not the time for a confrontation. But these people were getting under his skin, and on a very bad day at that. Regaining his composure, he opened his eyes. "If you do not mind, we will head back to our side of the clearing. Let us both try to stay on our side and keep to ourselves."
"A friend...headed this way. I see." The Dragonborn nods to what he heard from Anearis. "As you will elf called Anearis, go and grieve, light a candle for your fallen friend. Though..." The Dragonborn cuts himself off and turns to the empty space beside him."...perhaps...""No, it's not my place or his to say how your time is spent."
The bowman used this opportunity to speak up. “Following your friend’s trail, you say? Tell me is your friend corporeal?” The bowman removed his pipe, and without the smoke in his face, his eyes had since narrowed, as he looked towards Ura and Anearis. “I scouted our that trail only hours ago, and it seems that we’d be the first to set foot on it for some time now. Perhaps your friend went somewhere else? If it would make the night sharing this clearing more agreeable, I would gladly assist in locating his tracks and sending you in the CORRECT direction.”
Sometime during the bowman’s response, a faint glow from one of the tents changed to red, and then violet, and then blue, before returning to the yellowish glow of the lantern or candle that had been providing the initial illumination.
Sligthly distracted by the colored lights coming from the tent, Anearis turned back his attention to the bowman. "Suddenly so eager to help. Although I appreciate this change of tone, we know where he is going. We hoped to catch up to him by cutting through the mountain." The elf points in the general direction of the ruins. "This is where we are going. But now, we've introduced ourselves. If I am not mistaken, introducing yourselves would be the least you could do."
The bowman looked in the direction of the ruins, as Anearis pointed. “Actually, I’d say that the least we could do is nothing and just go to bed. But the assistance was less beingeager to help, and more being eager to put distance between our two groups.” The bowman said no more, providing no name.
After a moment of silence however, the Dragonborn, who was once again facing the elves, spoke. "What is in a name, after all..." He glances back at the bowman for a moment. "The bowman with the tracking skills is of some small repute, he prefers to keep his real name to himself."
The dragonborn then displays widened toothy grin for the two elves. "I however don't care much for such fantasies so you may know me as Dovah'keen, if you must address me at all past this evening."he gestures with his hands. "Does that satisfy your curiosity this evening?"
"Dovah'keen, huh? That's a powerful name,"Ura says, nodding in greeting. "The guy we're looking for has a pretty powerful name too: Pas D'Armes. Aka The Arbitrator of Midgar." As she speaks, she rubs her hands together, trying out an itch she was feeling to prestidigitation the image of D'Armes onto the palm of her hand, like a tattoo on her skin. She holds her palm out as she speaks, showing off D'armes face to the two men, before the image fades away. "He's our friend and we're worried he's about to do something really stupid all by himself in the ruins of Castle Aaaaargh. In fact, if you guys can tell us the safest and fastest was to get to the ruins from here, we'd be out of your hair even faster, you know? We have a guide with us, but he's a bit..." Ura looks over her shoulder to see Dah'Deey, still sprawled out in the middle of the clearing, snoring and unconcerned. "... eccentric."
"You continued talking to me, so I did the same to you. And you turned my peaceful words into racism so I can do the same to you as well. Turnabout is fair play, don't you think, or are your little heads to small to do that?"
Gronk in Bastion, Kingdom of Medrin Elixisys in Talaveroth (Team 2) Uthal in Lost Continent of Theviranne
“Sorry, friend.” Nik said to Anearis, before peering around the elf once more. “No ones talking to you. Can you not see the wiry elven fellow standing in front of us? We have no more time for your blatant discrimination, or your ignorance about how a ‘turnabout’ works. Good day, sir!” Nik then returned to Anearis with a ‘shit eating grin’ on his face. “I know some big words, I do. Now I don’t mean ta be rude, but your big for nuffin friend keeps interrupting.”
This entire time, Nack continued rolling on the ground, laughing.
Anearis attempted to speak, but was always cut off by either of the dwarves. He had hoped they could be good neighbors for the night. But even the elf was starting to be annoyed. And Uthal seemed to be on the verge of losing it with these two and the elf didn’t really appreciate them mocking the goliath.
"Perhaps you two should go back to your tent. You have done nothing but harass my friend, calling him stupid, disrespectful and treating him like a primitive. I will not suffer your mockery any longer." Anearis said. He rose up from the stone he was sitting on. "Leave us be!"
“Defensive and sensitive just like the giant, Nack.” Nack laid on the ground a few moments after finishing laughing. Finally catching his breath, he stood, and turned with his brother. “You’re right, Nik. Stands by his friend, even when in the wrong though, gotta give ‘me that.” “Aye. Hope that’s enough though, their in fer a world of hurt, if some good old ribbing is all it takes to make lose it.”
The two dwarfs shuffled back to their camp, and their own party around the fire, talking the entire way back.
"Who were those Nits and Gnats?" Ura wonders, looking unsatisfied. "I tried to clean them out, but they didn't even have lint in their pockets!" she snorts, crossing her arms. Then she looks at Anaeris. "You have a lot more patience than I do. Those two fools didn't seem dangerous, but I'm still kinda thinking of going over there and feeling the rest of their camp out." She looks over her shoulder at Uthal, trying to pray, or maybe just trying not to grind his teeth together. "You want to come with and prevent this from becoming a diplomatic incident?"
Uthal looks up again. "If I come now someone dies. If you go it's best to do it without me. Shout if you need help, the goddess has given me new gifts that should be fun to use on those fools."
Gronk in Bastion, Kingdom of Medrin Elixisys in Talaveroth (Team 2) Uthal in Lost Continent of Theviranne
"Oh, I meant Anaeris. That carnage would follow if you came with me was a given," Ura clarifies. She shrugs at Anaeris. "You know how I am. I go, I talk, I put my foot in my mouth. Well, can't be any worse than those two, though. Still, I want to make sure they aren't going to gut us for our rations in the night."
He shrugs back at Ura. "Fair enough. Also, have I heard correctly when they said their mother was a highwaywoman?", he asks the group.
The sky has not yet turned black, but since arriving in the clearing and setting up camp, the sun had at least sunk below the hills to West.
As Anearis and Ura approach the other party, an arrow lands just in front of their feet, sticking into the ground. It was fired by a figure standing next to the camp fire, who was otherwise obscured, by one of the tents, while sitting. The figure was tall, and wore a dark green cloak, and hood pulled over his head. Beneath the cloak was a set of dark gray hide armor. A set of pale blue eyes beneath the hood, sat just above a long thin wooden pipe puffing smoke. A long bow rested at his side.
“What’s your business, travelers?”
The two dwarfs from before were nowhere to be seen, though another individual sat at the fire with the cloaked figure; dragonborn. However, unlike the narrow faced red, almost snake like head of the Arbitrator, this one was black, with large bone-white horns framing his face. He wore robes of black and crimson, draped about his frame . He too was smoking a pipe.
The arrow having hit the ground a short distance from the two elves, Anearis’ stopped and turned to face the shooter.
‘’Merely passing through. Do you greet everyone you meet by shooting arrows at their feet? It seems particularly hostile.’’
“Well, when their ‘passing through’ by walking directly to our camp, uninvited. Yes, I’d say an entirely appropriate greeting. If it was truly hostile, it would have been aimed at you, not the ground.”
Positioning the bow upright against the ground, he reached up and repositioned his pipe.
“Now then, as I asked before; what business do you have here?”
„We just wanted to return the favor,“ Ura says, crossing her arms. „Seems unsociable to let an invitation go ignored,“ she adds. „Of course we must be doing something wrong here. I was under the impression given by those Gnit and Gnat fellows that your camp would‘ve been expecting the two of us walk right up to you and try to fondle your weapons as a way of greeting. I‘m Ura by the way, and that‘s a real nice bow.“
The Dragonborn turns towards Ura and Anearis And gestures with his scaley claw like hand. “Greetings travelers, what brings you to our camp at this late hour?"
However, the invitation towards the fire is stunted by the cloaked bowman, who looks down and says to him. “Hospitality is not what we’re paid for. Are you ignoring the earlier warnings, or did you just not hear them.”
He turns his head back to address the two elves, but making now further movements.
“Rather than be a smart ass, perhaps you want to talk straight with us. You can’t recognize the idiotic nature of two child-brained dwarfs for what it is, then assume to act in kind. So before I too consider this interaction to be hostile. What is your business here?”
„Well very bluntly. We wanted to know who you are, what you‘re doing here, where you‘re going, and if this clearing is big enough for the two of our camps to peacefully coexist. In fact we were planning that well before those two dwarven emissaries decided to come over and interrupt our cleric‘s funeral service to harass him about his weaponry and parentage. As they made the first move, however, they turned the while business sour. We lost one of our own on the mountain, see, and everyone‘s nerves are a bit raw right now.“ Ura uncrosses her arms and sighs.
“Listen, I feel like we got off on the wrong foot here, but you have to understand. Your two tag-alongs are out of control and spoiling for a fight. At the very least you should rein them in before you meet folks with less patience than us on the road. That being said, if you‘re willing to trade names, we could consider this starting afresh. And everyone knows, it‘s better to make friends on the road than enemies.“
While Ura spoke, the dragonborn stood, and he and the bowman exchanged hushed words, though both seemed to still be focused on Ura, at least giving part of their divided attention towards her. The dragonborn stepped from the campfire, a dimly lit lantern at his belt, illimuniating a foot or two around his feet. Reaching to where the the arrow landed, he stopped, folding his hands in front of him, fingers interlinked ((approximately 5 feet from Ura and Anearis)). A smell of clove and vanilla wafting towards the elves, from him.
"Well then...let's see..." The dragonborn emptied his pipe and stowed it. "A research group, resting for the night, going to a site to do...scholarly things. The dwarves were being themselves and we are not their mothers nor caregivers."
A disembodied voice called out from one of the tents. "Dwarf haters, the lot of you."
The dragonborn continued, ingoring the outburst. "I will not apologize for their actions any more than you should apologize for conducting funerary rites despite it being an affront to their core beliefs." As he said it, he pointed back in the direction of the dwarf's voice, before folding his hands once again. "A word of advice elf called Ura, there are wolves in the woods and they will eat you regardless if friend or foe."
Another voice interjected, with some annoyance in it's tone. The annoyance however wasn't directed necessarily towards the conversation, but rather something triggered by the dragonborn's last statement. "They're not wolves. Everyone always thinks there's wolves in Belleau Woods, they're not wolves, they're hell hounds. It's an important distinction, dragon." The bowman finally forthcoming with information, though more just of general knowledge, rather than requested answers.
"Now. Very bluntly as you say. Who are you, what are you doing here, where are you going, and is this clearing big enough to balm your bruised and tender skins?" The dragonborn remained stone-faced and serious during the entirety of his speech.
Anearis looked at Ura for a second for a sign that they are both in accord. "My name is Anearis. My friend here already introduced herself as Ura. We stopped here for the night and to grieve. If that is an affront to these dwarves' beliefs, that is there problem, not ours." His tone was serious, trying to maintain his calm as best he could. "We are trying to find a friend. He was going this way and we are following his trail." He took a deep breath, closing his eyes. This was not the time for a confrontation. But these people were getting under his skin, and on a very bad day at that. Regaining his composure, he opened his eyes. "If you do not mind, we will head back to our side of the clearing. Let us both try to stay on our side and keep to ourselves."
"A friend...headed this way. I see." The Dragonborn nods to what he heard from Anearis. "As you will elf called Anearis, go and grieve, light a candle for your fallen friend. Though..." The Dragonborn cuts himself off and turns to the empty space beside him."...perhaps..." "No, it's not my place or his to say how your time is spent."
The bowman used this opportunity to speak up.
“Following your friend’s trail, you say? Tell me is your friend corporeal?” The bowman removed his pipe, and without the smoke in his face, his eyes had since narrowed, as he looked towards Ura and Anearis. “I scouted our that trail only hours ago, and it seems that we’d be the first to set foot on it for some time now. Perhaps your friend went somewhere else? If it would make the night sharing this clearing more agreeable, I would gladly assist in locating his tracks and sending you in the CORRECT direction.”
Sometime during the bowman’s response, a faint glow from one of the tents changed to red, and then violet, and then blue, before returning to the yellowish glow of the lantern or candle that had been providing the initial illumination.
Sligthly distracted by the colored lights coming from the tent, Anearis turned back his attention to the bowman. "Suddenly so eager to help. Although I appreciate this change of tone, we know where he is going. We hoped to catch up to him by cutting through the mountain." The elf points in the general direction of the ruins. "This is where we are going. But now, we've introduced ourselves. If I am not mistaken, introducing yourselves would be the least you could do."
The bowman looked in the direction of the ruins, as Anearis pointed. “Actually, I’d say that the least we could do is nothing and just go to bed. But the assistance was less being eager to help, and more being eager to put distance between our two groups.” The bowman said no more, providing no name.
After a moment of silence however, the Dragonborn, who was once again facing the elves, spoke. "What is in a name, after all..." He glances back at the bowman for a moment. "The bowman with the tracking skills is of some small repute, he prefers to keep his real name to himself."
The dragonborn then displays widened toothy grin for the two elves. "I however don't care much for such fantasies so you may know me as Dovah'keen, if you must address me at all past this evening." he gestures with his hands. "Does that satisfy your curiosity this evening?"
"Dovah'keen, huh? That's a powerful name," Ura says, nodding in greeting. "The guy we're looking for has a pretty powerful name too: Pas D'Armes. Aka The Arbitrator of Midgar." As she speaks, she rubs her hands together, trying out an itch she was feeling to prestidigitation the image of D'Armes onto the palm of her hand, like a tattoo on her skin. She holds her palm out as she speaks, showing off D'armes face to the two men, before the image fades away. "He's our friend and we're worried he's about to do something really stupid all by himself in the ruins of Castle Aaaaargh. In fact, if you guys can tell us the safest and fastest was to get to the ruins from here, we'd be out of your hair even faster, you know? We have a guide with us, but he's a bit..." Ura looks over her shoulder to see Dah'Deey, still sprawled out in the middle of the clearing, snoring and unconcerned. "... eccentric."