Miroslaw was ready to begin as soon as the old man cleared up some of the choices of words. "Tell me, if you will, what exactly are these "Savages". You've hardly made them seem like the usual bandits..." His suspicions were growing with everything the old man said. It did not matter all too much to hi. He would do this job either way. However, he has never very much enjoyed a surprise.
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.
Well, his partner was certainly a large specimen. Definitely Soren, it was odd to see them this far south. Ramir had rarely encountered them abroad, but had met a few more whilst in the far north, training.
Their contract seemed all kinds of eager, but half-cocked. Ramir wasn't ever in a real hurry, so he decided he'd quite like to ask a few questions.
"I have some questions for you. I take it your bandits were gnomes then? That hardly seems like much of a threat without numbers, just how many are there? Were they organized, how good was their gear, how did they travel, when did they attack and did anyone appear to be in charge and if so, how will we know them?"
Phew, Ramir took a breath. He had one last question though, as he'd just spied an interesting opportunity.
"And also - what would it take for me to get one of those gears? A really nice one, I have something it could work very well for."
::Fenster turned back to his table and went back to cataloging the stuff in the box as he gave his answers.::
"I call them savages as they no longer seem to hold to a civilized society, and yes they did appear to be Gnomes.
It was hard to tell their numbers as they came in the night. While Gnomes may not seem like much of a threat to you more...battle seasoned...men, we are researchers here. Not fighters.
I can't tell you how organized they were or if they had an obvious leader, I know nothing of tactics. I can tell you that it was fast and directed towards the tents where we store our findings. Once we managed to put together some kind of resistance, they left.
And I tell you what. Get back the things they took from us, and you can have your pick of a gear."
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.
Gnomes. Of course. Gnomes are no bandits like the other old man had said! They are smaller, and have whirling contraptions. Regardless, Miroslaw's concern was put to rest. His back was starting to ache from being hunched over in the tent for so long.
He looked to his new comrade and asked, "Shall we start now or rest a bit first?" He had to admit feeling a bit weary after the long journey of foot. This guy probably had a sore ass from riding. He left the decision up to him though, as he felt ready either way.
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.
Ramir was busily searching his knowledge of the world at large, to try and recall anything that might be of use to them in this region (Cartography 3), though he wasn't hopeful. If he'd been on the open sea, he could look at a wave and know his way about anywhere.
"I have one more question, before we get on our way. What did you find? Obviously, it's worth something. And I would suspect it's important, if they're to know what they were after. You put up a fight and they left, so they got what they came for.
i'm sure my very large friend here would also prefer to know just what it is we're getting into."
Well, he was quite happy with deducing that. If the scholar didn't know, the bandits certainly did and Ramir would much rather level the playing field.
::Ramir's knowledge tells him that they are in an area of hills that serve as the foothils for the mountains to the north. The hills run east to west with various valleys and rises. From the excavation work, you know that this was once the area of a large Gnomish civilization that fell many many years ago.::
"They snatched anything they could get thier hands on. Scraps of metal, coins, things like that. However, they also managed to steal a small metal idol. We think it was a representation of one of their deities."
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.
"Now that's interesting. Something significant and we have no idea what it's for."
Ramir didn't know much of anything about lost civilizations and ancient gnomish deities, but it seemed pretty likely that their communal panties were in a bunch over the god idol. That or it was an ancient gnomish burial ground, geez, the amount of times he'd heard that one.
He figured there wasn't much more to learn, but considered their options. It seemed that the problem might best be solved through diplomacy, but that certainly wasn't his forte. The gnomes didn't like that their ancestral whatever was ending up on someone's mantle and their contractor didn't fancy their ruined knick knacks being actually nicked by people who seemed to have no use for it. Regardless, Ramir wasn't the sentimental type and he accepted a job to earn some coin.
Miroslaw didn't seem like he was in a hurry.
"Well, I think they got what they came for. We could probably rest without worry. It's been long enough that the trail is cold, we're going to have to figure out where they're holed up. The terrain around here is choppy at best, so they could be about anywhere. We may even find more ruins.
If you ask me, we need some elevation. Come nightfall, we'll spot their camp by their fires. If that doesn't work, then we bumble around every nook and cranny 'til we figure it out, yeah?"
Miroslaw assumed it would be easy to spot the things that were stolen. How much old metal stuff could they have? Though,it was always beneficial to know exactly what they were looking for. Then the stranger gave a really planned out... plan. He was going to like working with this guy. Miroslaw's skills were with combat and that was pretty much it. He would have likely bumbled around every nook and cranny till he found the thieves.
He listened closely and responded with a few words, "Aye, hopefully no bumbling..."
Last Edit: Apr 25, 2014 22:44:05 GMT -5 by 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.
::Fenster turns his head to look at the pair with a flashy smile.::
"We just recently reopened the stairway to the lookout tower within the ruins...would that help?
I'll be a bit of a tight squeeze for you though, my friend."
::Looking at Miroslaw.::
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.
A tower would be perfect for spotting the small thieves! However, a tower built for gnomes was no place for a giant. He did not intend on squeezing into such a place, even if he was even capable of such a feat. Surely he could just wait on his new partner for the job to report what he sees from atop the tower. “Aye. Think I will let Vandal handle the spotting... For now, I suppose a brief rest is in the cards. Plan moves forth when dusk is arriving?" He glanced to the faces before him, searching for objections.
Last Edit: Apr 26, 2014 18:33:23 GMT -5 by 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.
"You rest up and see if you can't learn anything more. I'll head for the lookout immediately, there's no telling what I might find, even now."
Ramir seemed pleased enough with that idea and headed off. Confirming his bearing with another worker, he made for the stairs. It was a start, at least.
Miroslaw nodded, asking the old man where a place to rest may be. It was surely going to be a long night and he wanted to be at his full potential for the coming events. Vandal had an advantage on Miroslaw. He lacks a proper fear of horses and all things that take a man's feet off the ground for extended periods of time.
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 is guided to a large tent constructed as a sleeping area for the workers. Cots are shared as some work is done around the clock. Sadly for Miro, they are standard human size...
Ramir is guided inside. The ruins were definately designed for gnomes as the grand great entry hall is tall enough for a human to stand, if he is mindful of his head...
The stairs are to the side of the entry hall behind the swinging hinges that once held a wooden door. The stairway is much more cramped that the Hall, at times requiring you to sit and scoot on your backside, or even crawl. Periodic landings allow enough space to stretch somewhat, if not completely, to prevent too much cramping of muscles.
Upon reaching the top, dusk is quickly falling and Ramir finds himself in a "room" built to house only a couple gnomes at once. He would have to sit, with his legs curled to be able to see out the opening that shows the valleys and hills spread out before him.::
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.
Miroslaw did not expect to find Soren beds in a campsite. He did not belong away from his homeland of the north, but he was use to it at this point. He moved two of the cots together, long ways.
He laid down and it still would not be the best rest. It simply was not wide enough for him. Not to mention the awkward sleeping position granted by using two cots as he was. Thing were poking into his side, but it could not be helped. He would sleep anyways. He's always been able to sleep, no matter for uncomfortable it was. He closed his eyes and immediately drifted into dream land.
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.
Ramir was muttering at his predicament. He should have thought this through a little more but still, it was likely the best way to figure out just where their quarry was holed up. The ruins were fascinating and all, but gnomes were certainly a compact lot and he couldn't see himself lingering longer than he had to.
His eyes scanned their surroundings, looking for anything our of the ordinary. He was still curious as to whether the bandits might return, but it seemed more likely they'd gotten what they'd come for.
That was unless they were simply upset their heritage was being dug up. If that were the case, he imagined they'd be back as many times as it took to scare the diggers away. And if that were the case, well he couldn't really begrudge them for that.
It seemed that this whole scenario had the potential to get very complicated, very quickly.