Miroslaw kept silent and listened to the man's proposition. It was an interesting one. He was not certain what this man knew, or if he could be of any aid to his search. However, for even a far-fetched chance to reignite Miroslaw's trail to vengeance, he would give anything. If nothing else, perhaps traveling around some more could find him another lead.
After only a moment of silence, Miroslaw began to speak, “An interesting proposal indeed...” His words trailed off as if he was in thought. His stare was no longer directed at you, but rather seemed to be through you. It was as if, for only a minute, he retreated into his mind.
After a long pause, his gaze returned to you. He swiftly stood from the bench and moved closer to you, “I always preferred the conventional way to seal a deal.” he stated as he pushed his right hand forward for a handshake. “You have yourself a partnership.” He then realized how odd it was that he still did not know this your. He decided to reveal his own, assuming a return would follow, “By the way, I am Miroslaw.”
Death is no more than turning us over from time to eternity. Whether that eternity is damnation or salvation is determined in the time we have.
::The man smirked again as allusions to fish in barrels passed through his mind.
He returned the gesture made by Miroslaw and offered his hand to the man.::
"Alexander Ravenhurst."
::For a moment he considered adding his title as well, but held back. Best to keep some secrets for now, until he knew the man better.
And there was always the change that Miroslaw may not have ever heard of the Noctis Venator, given their tendency to keep things quiet aside from the public face they wore of being scholars.::
"May this partnership bring us both what we seek.
However, for now I must return to town. I will be in touch with you once I know where my next path will lead."
::Without further goodbyes, the man rose and turned to leave.::
((OOC: Unless you'ld like to respond, I'll cut things off here to lead to more later. Meeting you and Zalini in the tavern. I'll save rewards and such for the end of the quest that will develop and include our interaction here.))
My first thought was, he lied in every word, That hoary cripple, with malicious eye Askance to watch the workings of his lie On mine, and mouth scarce able to afford Suppression of the glee, that pursed and scored Its edge, at one more victim gained thereby.
Nods to you and says nothing further. As soon as you are gone, he returns to his darkened fire and goes right to work getting it started again. "I still care very little of that moss" he grumbles to himself.
Death is no more than turning us over from time to eternity. Whether that eternity is damnation or salvation is determined in the time we have.
Arrived with Mutt close behind. The sun had vanished awhile before. Lucky for them, the light from the moon was bright. Miroslaw states, "Welcome to my home. Its not much, but its comfy." He got right to work starting the fire up. It got quite cold at night and the fire's warmth will be needed.
He said to mutt, "If you want, you can set up the second tent. Its fairly simple. Just prop it up, really." He gestured to where the tent laid. A simple tent made from leathers and some wood. A bedroll sat next to it. The tent had only been used a select few times, but it was still usable.
Death is no more than turning us over from time to eternity. Whether that eternity is damnation or salvation is determined in the time we have.
Mutt followed closely behind Miroslaw. He scanned his camp ground, making sure to take note of where everything was. "Thank you." He said with a nod walking quickly over to the tent. He began to work on getting it set up, having only a slight difficulty and taking longer then expected to actually set it up. Once he had finished he grasped the bed roll and looked at it. It felt soft, might actually keep him warm. "Thank you again."
The fire was ablaze and would be so for awhile. It was regular routine for Miroslaw. The tents were set up close enough to the fire to make use of the warmth radiating from it. It would burn down to coals through the night, but keep them warm nevertheless. Miroslaw simply said "Don't mention it." to his new friend.
Miroslaw meandered over to the his tent and whistled loudly as he did. After a moment, rustling of leaves was heard in the distance.. The patter of footsteps were quick, and became soft as they came closer. In a few moments, silence returned, but glowing yellow eyes could be seen through the darkness in the direction that the noise was coming from. Miroslaw's voice became higher pitched as he shouted, "Come 'ere girl!" leaning down and patting his legs.
Out of the darkness approached a very small wolf. She was a runt, and would always remain that way. She ran at Miroslaw, jumping into his arms when she was close enough to do so. She licked his face, similar to that of a dog. After a moment, she sprang out of his arms and went into his tent, laying on the pile of hay. She payed little attention to the stranger, Mutt. Miroslaw stripped out of his armor, placing it all bear his tent. Finally, he crawled into his bedroll. He spoke his last words, "Night, Mutt." before nothing but loud snores came from his tent.
Death is no more than turning us over from time to eternity. Whether that eternity is damnation or salvation is determined in the time we have.
::Miroslaw wakens in the night to the sound of something moving about in the brush near his camp. By the sound of it, whatever is making the noise is not bothering to hide its movement.
Your pet wolf is awake and crouched by the opening to your tent with its ears laid back and a soft growl coming from it.::
Miroslaw completely silent as he put his finger up to his lips, attempting to signal his wolf, Evelynn, to do the same. The potential of danger lurking outside his tent always did wonders to rid him of the all too common early rising fatigue. He reached for his sword, which he always kept next to him as he slept. He carefully picked it up, trying to make as little noise as possible. He did not have his armor on, as it laid in a mound outside of his tent. Sleeping in armor never did the back a favor.
Finally, after having his sword in his grasps, he moved forward onto his knees to peak outside the tent. He very carefully moved his finger between the two hanging fabrics that made the entrance of his tent, and moved one side slightly ajar. He peeked through with one eye, trying to get a glimpse of what might be causing the ruckus, animal, or person. All to many times he has been woken by a squirrel or other docile animal and thought he was in danger. He still had not got around to creating a fence to keep the annoying critters out.
Death is no more than turning us over from time to eternity. Whether that eternity is damnation or salvation is determined in the time we have.
::At first the rustling continues at a point out of sight from the area you can see peeking out of the tent. However, after a short time the noises draw closer and a low form can be seen walking on four legs through the shadows. The light from the moon and stars reflect off an eye as the shape circles the camp slowly.
As you watch, you hear a voice call out from some distance away. Male from the sound of it. And old given the way it cracks as he yells.::
Miroslaw bumped the Eve's nose with an open palm. His silent way of saying, “Stay.” He then sighs deeply and he emerges from the tent. He greatly disliked having to hide in his own dwelling. He held his sword in his left hand, sheathed. He called out as he rose to his feet, “Who goes there?” as he scanned the shadows for the source of the elderly voice. If the four legged beast became aggressive from Miroslaw making his appearance known, he would ignore it if possible. If it attacked, he would try to suppress the creature.
Death is no more than turning us over from time to eternity. Whether that eternity is damnation or salvation is determined in the time we have.
::As the voice calls back the shadow slinks from the shadows into the moonlight...::
::Evelynn's growl deepens as the thing slips into camp. What's left of its lip curls back in response and appears that it would have growled in return had it a voicebox to do so.::
"Son, come with me. Bring the twins.
I think this nice man may help us find Patches, Lovie!!"
::The voice sounds happy. Giddy even as it draws closer to your camp.
And then the horror before you springs for your throat...::
Miroslaw's raised an eyebrow at the voice of the cooky old man. He assumed the dog he spoke of was the four legged creature lurkingi n the shadows. He responded, “Aye, I think its right here. Is he friendly?”
Seeing the creature come into the light, Miroslaw gasped, partially in disgust, partially by surprise. He wondered how this creature could be living? It was some kind of walking corpse of an animal. He shushed backwards at Eve, but his eyes never left the decrepit creature before him. As the old man spoke, Miroslaw's confusion only grew. There must have been more people out there with him. Miroslaw was only growing annoyed by this, and a little fearful. Whatever power was capable of allowing the dead to walk was surely not to be meddled with.
“He looks...” His speaking was interrupted by the creature jumping at him. Miroslaw's heart immediately began pounding as heattempts to grab the dog mid air, and hold it firmly, restraining its ability to bite or claw him. In the process, he would drop his sword to the ground to free up his other hand. As disgusting as it was, he did not want to cause harm to the old man's pet. It probably just felt threatened by him. Miroslaw knew that animal instincts were strong. A large man like himself would be a threatening sight.
Death is no more than turning us over from time to eternity. Whether that eternity is damnation or salvation is determined in the time we have.
::Despite its decaying body, the wolflike creature still had good weight to it. Something amplified by its powerful leap. A weaker man would have been knocked to the ground by the force of the impact, and even a strong man like Miroslaw found he had to shift his feet back a few steps to keep from falling.
You manage to get your hands up in time to catch the undead thing and keep it momentarily at bay. As your hands flex to find purchase, fingers penetrate rotting flesh and muscle. It's forelegs scratch at the air between you as its head lunges in to snap at your face and neck, trying to reach you. Slobber and gore fly from its mouth, so vicious is its attempts to bite you.
Despite your orders to the contrary, Evelynn sees her master in danger and comes to your aide. She latches her jaws onto a hind leg of the thing and begins to pull and thrash her head about trying to rip at the limb. The creature seems to not feel the pain, but its base begins to shift from beneath it, making it unsteady.::
"Oh THERE you are, Patches! You found a friend, have you?"
::The voice of the old man sounds happy. Out of the corner of your eye you see three humanoid shapes shambling from the treeline next to your camp. Its hard to tell from your vantage point and the darkness, but you get the impression they are in similar states to the wolf... Two of them seem to have small caps on their heads with little propellers atop them that spin when the breeze blows.
Behind them emerges a stickthin man that appears to be the embodiment of the term "skin and bones". He's carrying what appears to be a skull in his hands. He raises it above him as he begins to cavort about.::
The man was out of his wits more than any he had seen before. He could tell just from his nonsensical blabbering. This old man was either an enemy, or a really had no control over what seemed to be his creatures. Either way, he possessed very dark magic that brought creatures back from the grave. Whatever his purpose, he was not going to wait any longer to find out.
After awhile of trying to suppress the dog, and its relentless and savage attempts to cause harm to him, Miroslaw gives up and hurls the creature at the, now visible, old man. As soon as he throws the creature, he picks up his sword and takes a defensive position, holding the sword low to the ground. He hunched his posture over as well. It was a defensive stance specifically for the hounds. He states, “There's your dog, old man. Now, what are you doing here? And you better start making sense.”
Any more creatures that charge him Miroslaw will attempt to hacked without hesitation. Miroslaw grows more fed up with the night time intrusion with each passing second.
Death is no more than turning us over from time to eternity. Whether that eternity is damnation or salvation is determined in the time we have.