Elendor
In search of the past: What now?
Brev, Gidon and later Carac speculate on the way forward in their so-far fruitless quests
Sort Date: no date set
Location: Shepherding Village
Game Date: March 3047
IC Time: Morning
Weather: Rain
Description: Shepherding Village
This is the home of a small, proud, and independent people who live primarily by herding sheep in the open lands south of the Great East Road. Once driven from this region by troll depredations, they have returned and appear to be prospering, perhaps because they can also profit by trade on the Great East Road. There are many sturdy houses and smaller huts clustered on a hill here, safely ensconced behind a deep ditch and wall. The ditch is filled with thorn bushes ... and the gate to the village is by a removable walkway over that ditch. Clearly the possibility of attack, whether from trolls or something worse, has not been ignored.
A long, low, whitewashed building, sprawling along the hillside below the caravanserai, appears to the south. The thatched roof spills down to the tops of its lead-paned windows, thick glass aglow with firelight.
Obvious exits:
Gathering House, Caravanserai, and Great East Road
===============================================================================
Dunland Time and Weather Forecast
===============================================================================
Real Time is: Sun Jun 21 16:05:34 2009
IC weather is: Wind: - Clouds: sparse - Rain: drizzle
IC Moon is: Full
IC time is: Dawn
IC date is: Mersday, Day 29 of March in the year 3047.
===============================================================================
Morning is here, and not the most pleasant one. Water puddles on the muddy ground, and drips steadily from the thatched eaves of the houses. Brev must have risen early, for he is not in the caravanserai, where a little circle of sodden grey tents denotes the Dunlending encampment. Instead he huddles in an angle of the wall that protects the village, his cloak pulled tight around him, and stares out into the grey rain-curtain that obscures the hills and woods alike.
[Nob(#16122)] Gidon has slipped away early as well, heading for the large building he has been told men go to drink and talk. And now he appears out of the rain, his head bent against the chill watching his feet shuffle through puddles. He glances up, shaking the rain from his face, and notices Brev's still figure. There is a pause while the boy waits for recognition, and then he turns a little and heads towards the man instead of away.
Recognition is slow in coming. Brev seems rather too preoccupied with what is outside the village to note what is within it - eventually, though, his head turns and Gidon is seen. He raises an arm in silent greeting, and then, as the boy starts to move his way, calls out quietly. "Morning." A pause, then. "How's things? Been wondering if - uh. If you'd found anything." He watches the youngster carefully.
[Nob(#16122)] Gidon doesn't say anything until he is next to Brev, and has squatted down, pulling a corner of his cloak over his head to shed the rain. Then he shakes his head. "Feller said he seen a man come from th'east. Seen another man, coulda been him, only he was buying wool. Can't think why Da'd be buying wool. Both them was going t'Bree, so wasn't him..."
"Going /to/ Bree?" Brev frowns at that, even as he makes space for the youngster. "We'd have passed him. Wouldn't we?" There is a brief hesitation there, as though he were thinking. Then, "What d'you want to do now?"
[Nob(#16122)] "Yeah," Gidon says. And doesn't say - or seen the bones... "We went th'way he told me, dunno why he'd go any other how." The rain pelts down, grey and chill, and carrying none of the hope springtime should. Brev's question brings silence and a shrugged shoulder. "Dunno." The boy's voice is soft and rain-drenched.
It is early morning, and the rain patters steadily down on the Shepherding village, offering little protection to the man and boy huddled in an angle of the outer wall, talking quietly.
Brev's frown remains. "If-" he seems almost to be thinking aloud - "if you wanted to go back to Bree, we should try to find someone to travel with you. There's a woman - Cordy - seems more talkative than most, could ask her if she knows anyone. If not ..." More silence, then a shrug. "Kiern knows what we'll do."
[Nob(#16122)] A glance sideways. "Where're you going, then?" Gidon asks. He looks away, across the village green and over the wall on the other side, and shivers.
Brev follows the direction of his gaze. "There's the thing," he admits. "North, maybe. I've heard folk talk of ruins, of remains ... if our folk lived there once, then where did they go?" His expression is abstracted, distant, but then he shrugs and adds more prosaically, "And Kiern alone knows where Uannve is. Well, maybe Kiern and that filthy strawhaired woman. Stay well away from her."
[Nob(#16122)] "Went where you are now," Gidon says, practically. "Stands t'reason, don't it?" He stirs a little. "North - that's where they says all the trolls come down from."
[Nob(#16122)] Brev's last words bring a curious glance. "Strawha...? Oh. Blond. Who is she?" Gidon asks.
Trolls. Brev's jaw clamps shut at that word - that much can be seen even through the untidy beard that graces his chin. He eyes Gidon sidelong, then shakes his head. "How many men would you say there are in this village. Forty? Even were they willing to leave their home, think /they'd/ be enough to defeat the For- to defeat our enemies," he amends.
The other question brings a snort. "Blond. That's your word for it? We'd say 'Forgoil'. And who she is is a lunatic. Soon as I mentioned Uannve she had her knife out, spoiling for a fight. I can handle her, but you - I don't want you hurt."
[Nob(#16122)] Gidon is an innocent, but he isn't slow. "But," he points out, "If what you're looking for is men t'fight, how come you want t'go off traipsing around ruin't places? Aren't no men there. Ought t'be going where folks is." He repeats the words carefully 'Forgoil' 'Blond'. And glances around. Women with knives... "Don' worry," he tells Brev fervently. "I ain't going close t'nobody like that!"
Brev shoots Gidon a sharp glance, as though the concept the boy voices were not a new one to him. "Aye," he says slowly. And perhaps he feels he's said enough on that particular topic for the present, for when he next speaks it is on an entirely different subject. "Your Da," he says at last. "Might help if I knew who you were looking for. Want to tell me his name and how he looked?"
[Nob(#16122)] The boy blushes a little. But then, it's reasonable that, having spent so much time and effort on not telling anyone that his father is missing, he should have forgotten to later tell anyone what the man's name is. "He's tall," he says, slowly. "His eyes is same as mine, but hair is lighter. "Name's Gabel."
Early the morning may be, but it does not look promising. A fine drizzle of rain bathes the Shepherding village, and mist hides the hills and woods from view. Gidon and Brev are tucked in an angle of the outer wall, but even there it is not dry. Brev's dun cloak is darkened to almost the same hue as the muddy ground.
What the pair have been talking of, who knows, but now the words in Common that drift back are innocuous enough. "Like you," Brev repeats, looking Gidon up and down. "Then he's be something like our folk." The realization that some Breefolk, at least, do indeed look Dunlending-kin is perhaps unpalatable, for he scowls, though it is swiftly gone. "Got another name? Most Breelanders I've met like to use two."
[Carac(#32384)] With much curiosity, Carac wanders about the village, seemingly oblivious to the drizzle which has begun to soak through his cloak. His attention seems to be mostly on the ditch, the wall, and other defenses the villagers have erected. With an approving nod he continues to look about while his brow creases in thought.
[Nob(#16122)] Gidon has looked away, and doesn't see the scowl. "Leafthicket," he says absently, eyes caught by another man out wandering in the rain. The grey mist makes it hard to see just who it is.
"Leafthicket," Brev repeats, as though committing the name to memory. "Gabel Leafthicket. Fine."
He follows the direction of Gidon's glance, squinting through the rain. He at least, seems to identify the wandering figure, for he springs up to his feet and raises an arm in greeting. "Morning," he says drily, keeping to his sing-song Common for Gidon's benefit. "Though I can't say it's a good one."
[Carac(#32384)] Carac peers through the mist and rain towards the sound of the voice which calls out in greeting. "Brev," he responds with a wave and begins moving towards him and his companion. "Look around, sheep, huts, walls, ditches . . ." he gives a dry chuckle. "Much like home is it not? These people must be of some kind of kin to us, only Dunlendings seem content to live in hovels and chase sheep about the countryside."
[Nob(#16122)] Gidon stands up, putting his back to the wall, and watching silently. The corner of his cloak that he was using for a hood slides back, and the rain turns his dark brown hair to black.
Brev tilts a brow up at Carac's words. "Speak for yourself," he responds, lips twitching a little. "If sheep-chasing takes your fancy, you're welcome. I prefer something a little more ... eh, responsive."
At Gidon's sudden motion he looks round. "No need to go, Gidon," he states, watching the youngster carefully as though he expects him to bolt. "Don't worry, Carac doesn't bite."
[Carac(#32384)] Lifting a hand to wipe a damp lock of hair from his eyes, Carac eyes the boy at Brev's side and gives a nod of greeting. "I mean you no harm," he says and offers a small smile before turning back to Brev.
"The village seems to have more defenses than some of our keeps back home," he says with another glance back to the ditch. "Do the orcs plague them even here?"
[Nob(#16122)] The boy nods in return. His gaze darts from man to man as they speak, and he half-opens his mouth, then shuts it again without saying anything.
"Trolls," Brev says succinctly, unable to repress a shiver. "Or so I'm told," adding in a swift rush of Dunael, "Done some sketches of that contraption of theirs," his gaze rests briefly on one particular part of the defences. "Maybe someone back home would be able to build one. Looks handy."
The boy's silence is noted, for he turns to the lad and asks quietly, "Gidon, what do you know about this place? You said your father came here sometimes ..."
[Carac(#32384)] "Trolls," Carac repeats in surprise and then looks back at the village, with a newfound respect. "They must be a hardy folk to be able hold back such as that." He lets his eyes fall upon the mentinoned contraption and he nods.
" "O'neil, perhaps, if he's still about," he says to Brev, before falling silent to wait and see what the boy has to offer.
[Nob(#16122)] There is a pause. Then Gidon says, "Trolls, aye. Orcs. Other things. Da' wouldn't tell me. Only said..." He swallows and looks down at the ground. "..stay away." After a minute, he adds, still not looking up, "Wolves, I reckon, and bears and th'like."
Brev nods to Carac's words - whether the Dunael or the Common, who can say?
"There's wolves and bears most wild places," he points out once Gidon has finished speaking. He regards the boy curiously for a moment, then identifies a possible reason for those hunched shoulders, and adds, rather more gently than usual for him, "Your Da didn't want you hurt. While you're with us, you won't."
Glancing back to Carac, he comments, "Hardy - or just plain lunatic. Like that filthy Forgoil woman."
[Carac(#32384)] Carac frowns slightly at the words from the boy, but nods in agreement with Brev. "There's no place for a boy around creatures such as that," he replies. "Trolls, orcs, and other things . . ." he repeats and gives a shake of his head.
"Perhaps," he says turning to Brev, "it is not only Dunland, but all lands who are falling beneath the shadow of these creatures. If so, let us hope we find a solution soon, before we all fall into the shadow.
[Nob(#16122)] Gidon looks up, his eyes going first to Brev and then to Carac. And his thin face looks uncommonly stubborn. "I ain't givin' up," he says, jutting his chin out. Then he adds, after a moment of thought smoothes the belligerence out of his face, "Ain't none round abouts Bree."
"No place for any of us, come to that," Brev mutters in answer to Carac's first words. "Except there's no place without them." He lets out a bark of laughter. The rest of the speech leaves him shrugging helplessly. "If that's true ... Kiern, I don't want to even think about it." And he grimaces. "You're the wise one, you come up with something?"
Gidon's words bring a frown to his face. "No-one said anything about giving up," he responds, perhaps a little too sharply. "But - you're wrong about Bree." A strained silence follows before he states flatly, without actually looking at the lad (or at Carac), "Lost my mother to a troll when I was five years old. Not one day's journey out of Bree. A Chieftain risked his life to avenge her, but it didn't bring her back."
[Carac(#32384)] Carac takes a moment and then nods. "If the threat is as great as it seems, it may make others more willing to join our cause," he says. "Either way it is too late to turn back or give up now, we will continue on and meet whatever lies ahead."
Again he falls silent and then reaches out to give the younger man's shoulder a soft clap. "We'll set things right one way or another," he says.
[Nob(#16122)] Gidon goes mute again, his silence that of someone unconvinced, but unwilling to say so. But something in Carac's words seems to strike a chord with the boy, and he glances at the older man, and stands a little straighter.
Brev's head jerks round as Carac speaks. "It /will/ take more." There, the words are spoken aloud now. "I just don't know where ... There's a woman here - Cordy - who claims to come from lands east. She's after something, I just haven't figured out what." He heaves a sigh, and runs a hand through his wet curls. "Want me to tell her we're looking for more men and see what happens? I'd avoided it so far, didn't want us to look weak."
He glances at Gidon out of the corner of his eye, and for a moment the sour look on his face softens. He manages - just - not to smile at the display of Youthful Purpose.
[Carac(#32384)] Carac considers Brev's questions momentarily and then shakes his head. "Let me speak with her," he replies. " "Perhaps, I can arrange something between us and her. I too do not wish us to seem like easy targets, we are strangers here and that makes us prey enough."
Finally he turns to Gidon. "If your father is not about, perhaps you should continue onwards with us," he says. "We've need of some more strong men like yourself," he adds, hoping to make the offer sound more attractive.
[Nob(#16122)] The words are strange, senseless. But Gidon listens as intently as if he knew their meaning. And when the man turns to him, he starts a little at the Common Tongue. He flushes and shakes his head. "C'n hunt a bit is all," he demurs. "Where're you going? If..." he leaves the sentence unfinished. "Might be I could come," he says at last, cautiously. "Might be Da' went that way, an' I'd hear tell of him."
Brev listens to the stream of Dunael, and nods, not commenting further. At Carac's words to Gidon his lips twitch, ever so slightly, and he lifts a hand to rub at his face to hide it. "Might be," he says cautiously. "You'd be better off with company, in any case."
And then, before anyone can say anything more, he announces, "Figure I've spent long enough in this rain. I'm off in search of somewhere drier." Without waiting to see if the others will follow, he adjusts his wet cloak and moves off through the rain.
This is the home of a small, proud, and independent people who live primarily by herding sheep in the open lands south of the Great East Road. Once driven from this region by troll depredations, they have returned and appear to be prospering, perhaps because they can also profit by trade on the Great East Road. There are many sturdy houses and smaller huts clustered on a hill here, safely ensconced behind a deep ditch and wall. The ditch is filled with thorn bushes ... and the gate to the village is by a removable walkway over that ditch. Clearly the possibility of attack, whether from trolls or something worse, has not been ignored.
A long, low, whitewashed building, sprawling along the hillside below the caravanserai, appears to the south. The thatched roof spills down to the tops of its lead-paned windows, thick glass aglow with firelight.
Obvious exits:
Gathering House, Caravanserai, and Great East Road
===============================================================================
Dunland Time and Weather Forecast
===============================================================================
Real Time is: Sun Jun 21 16:05:34 2009
IC weather is: Wind: - Clouds: sparse - Rain: drizzle
IC Moon is: Full
IC time is: Dawn
IC date is: Mersday, Day 29 of March in the year 3047.
===============================================================================
Morning is here, and not the most pleasant one. Water puddles on the muddy ground, and drips steadily from the thatched eaves of the houses. Brev must have risen early, for he is not in the caravanserai, where a little circle of sodden grey tents denotes the Dunlending encampment. Instead he huddles in an angle of the wall that protects the village, his cloak pulled tight around him, and stares out into the grey rain-curtain that obscures the hills and woods alike.
[Nob(#16122)] Gidon has slipped away early as well, heading for the large building he has been told men go to drink and talk. And now he appears out of the rain, his head bent against the chill watching his feet shuffle through puddles. He glances up, shaking the rain from his face, and notices Brev's still figure. There is a pause while the boy waits for recognition, and then he turns a little and heads towards the man instead of away.
Recognition is slow in coming. Brev seems rather too preoccupied with what is outside the village to note what is within it - eventually, though, his head turns and Gidon is seen. He raises an arm in silent greeting, and then, as the boy starts to move his way, calls out quietly. "Morning." A pause, then. "How's things? Been wondering if - uh. If you'd found anything." He watches the youngster carefully.
[Nob(#16122)] Gidon doesn't say anything until he is next to Brev, and has squatted down, pulling a corner of his cloak over his head to shed the rain. Then he shakes his head. "Feller said he seen a man come from th'east. Seen another man, coulda been him, only he was buying wool. Can't think why Da'd be buying wool. Both them was going t'Bree, so wasn't him..."
"Going /to/ Bree?" Brev frowns at that, even as he makes space for the youngster. "We'd have passed him. Wouldn't we?" There is a brief hesitation there, as though he were thinking. Then, "What d'you want to do now?"
[Nob(#16122)] "Yeah," Gidon says. And doesn't say - or seen the bones... "We went th'way he told me, dunno why he'd go any other how." The rain pelts down, grey and chill, and carrying none of the hope springtime should. Brev's question brings silence and a shrugged shoulder. "Dunno." The boy's voice is soft and rain-drenched.
It is early morning, and the rain patters steadily down on the Shepherding village, offering little protection to the man and boy huddled in an angle of the outer wall, talking quietly.
Brev's frown remains. "If-" he seems almost to be thinking aloud - "if you wanted to go back to Bree, we should try to find someone to travel with you. There's a woman - Cordy - seems more talkative than most, could ask her if she knows anyone. If not ..." More silence, then a shrug. "Kiern knows what we'll do."
[Nob(#16122)] A glance sideways. "Where're you going, then?" Gidon asks. He looks away, across the village green and over the wall on the other side, and shivers.
Brev follows the direction of his gaze. "There's the thing," he admits. "North, maybe. I've heard folk talk of ruins, of remains ... if our folk lived there once, then where did they go?" His expression is abstracted, distant, but then he shrugs and adds more prosaically, "And Kiern alone knows where Uannve is. Well, maybe Kiern and that filthy strawhaired woman. Stay well away from her."
[Nob(#16122)] "Went where you are now," Gidon says, practically. "Stands t'reason, don't it?" He stirs a little. "North - that's where they says all the trolls come down from."
[Nob(#16122)] Brev's last words bring a curious glance. "Strawha...? Oh. Blond. Who is she?" Gidon asks.
Trolls. Brev's jaw clamps shut at that word - that much can be seen even through the untidy beard that graces his chin. He eyes Gidon sidelong, then shakes his head. "How many men would you say there are in this village. Forty? Even were they willing to leave their home, think /they'd/ be enough to defeat the For- to defeat our enemies," he amends.
The other question brings a snort. "Blond. That's your word for it? We'd say '
[Nob(#16122)] Gidon is an innocent, but he isn't slow. "But," he points out, "If what you're looking for is men t'fight, how come you want t'go off traipsing around ruin't places? Aren't no men there. Ought t'be going where folks is." He repeats the words carefully 'Forgoil' 'Blond'. And glances around. Women with knives... "Don' worry," he tells Brev fervently. "I ain't going close t'nobody like that!"
Brev shoots Gidon a sharp glance, as though the concept the boy voices were not a new one to him. "Aye," he says slowly. And perhaps he feels he's said enough on that particular topic for the present, for when he next speaks it is on an entirely different subject. "Your Da," he says at last. "Might help if I knew who you were looking for. Want to tell me his name and how he looked?"
[Nob(#16122)] The boy blushes a little. But then, it's reasonable that, having spent so much time and effort on not telling anyone that his father is missing, he should have forgotten to later tell anyone what the man's name is. "He's tall," he says, slowly. "His eyes is same as mine, but hair is lighter. "Name's Gabel."
Early the morning may be, but it does not look promising. A fine drizzle of rain bathes the Shepherding village, and mist hides the hills and woods from view. Gidon and Brev are tucked in an angle of the outer wall, but even there it is not dry. Brev's dun cloak is darkened to almost the same hue as the muddy ground.
What the pair have been talking of, who knows, but now the words in Common that drift back are innocuous enough. "Like you," Brev repeats, looking Gidon up and down. "Then he's be something like our folk." The realization that some Breefolk, at least, do indeed look Dunlending-kin is perhaps unpalatable, for he scowls, though it is swiftly gone. "Got another name? Most Breelanders I've met like to use two."
[Carac(#32384)] With much curiosity, Carac wanders about the village, seemingly oblivious to the drizzle which has begun to soak through his cloak. His attention seems to be mostly on the ditch, the wall, and other defenses the villagers have erected. With an approving nod he continues to look about while his brow creases in thought.
[Nob(#16122)] Gidon has looked away, and doesn't see the scowl. "Leafthicket," he says absently, eyes caught by another man out wandering in the rain. The grey mist makes it hard to see just who it is.
"Leafthicket," Brev repeats, as though committing the name to memory. "Gabel Leafthicket. Fine."
He follows the direction of Gidon's glance, squinting through the rain. He at least, seems to identify the wandering figure, for he springs up to his feet and raises an arm in greeting. "Morning," he says drily, keeping to his sing-song Common for Gidon's benefit. "Though I can't say it's a good one."
[Carac(#32384)] Carac peers through the mist and rain towards the sound of the voice which calls out in greeting. "Brev," he responds with a wave and begins moving towards him and his companion. "Look around, sheep, huts, walls, ditches . . ." he gives a dry chuckle. "Much like home is it not? These people must be of some kind of kin to us, only Dunlendings seem content to live in hovels and chase sheep about the countryside."
[Nob(#16122)] Gidon stands up, putting his back to the wall, and watching silently. The corner of his cloak that he was using for a hood slides back, and the rain turns his dark brown hair to black.
Brev tilts a brow up at Carac's words. "Speak for yourself," he responds, lips twitching a little. "If sheep-chasing takes your fancy, you're welcome. I prefer something a little more ... eh, responsive."
At Gidon's sudden motion he looks round. "No need to go, Gidon," he states, watching the youngster carefully as though he expects him to bolt. "Don't worry, Carac doesn't bite."
[Carac(#32384)] Lifting a hand to wipe a damp lock of hair from his eyes, Carac eyes the boy at Brev's side and gives a nod of greeting. "I mean you no harm," he says and offers a small smile before turning back to Brev.
"The village seems to have more defenses than some of our keeps back home," he says with another glance back to the ditch. "Do the orcs plague them even here?"
[Nob(#16122)] The boy nods in return. His gaze darts from man to man as they speak, and he half-opens his mouth, then shuts it again without saying anything.
"Trolls," Brev says succinctly, unable to repress a shiver. "Or so I'm told," adding in a swift rush of Dunael, "
The boy's silence is noted, for he turns to the lad and asks quietly, "Gidon, what do you know about this place? You said your father came here sometimes ..."
[Carac(#32384)] "Trolls," Carac repeats in surprise and then looks back at the village, with a newfound respect. "They must be a hardy folk to be able hold back such as that." He lets his eyes fall upon the mentinoned contraption and he nods.
"
[Nob(#16122)] There is a pause. Then Gidon says, "Trolls, aye. Orcs. Other things. Da' wouldn't tell me. Only said..." He swallows and looks down at the ground. "..stay away." After a minute, he adds, still not looking up, "Wolves, I reckon, and bears and th'like."
Brev nods to Carac's words - whether the Dunael or the Common, who can say?
"There's wolves and bears most wild places," he points out once Gidon has finished speaking. He regards the boy curiously for a moment, then identifies a possible reason for those hunched shoulders, and adds, rather more gently than usual for him, "Your Da didn't want you hurt. While you're with us, you won't."
Glancing back to Carac, he comments, "Hardy - or just plain lunatic. Like that filthy Forgoil woman."
[Carac(#32384)] Carac frowns slightly at the words from the boy, but nods in agreement with Brev. "There's no place for a boy around creatures such as that," he replies. "Trolls, orcs, and other things . . ." he repeats and gives a shake of his head.
"Perhaps," he says turning to Brev, "it is not only Dunland, but all lands who are falling beneath the shadow of these creatures. If so, let us hope we find a solution soon, before we all fall into the shadow.
[Nob(#16122)] Gidon looks up, his eyes going first to Brev and then to Carac. And his thin face looks uncommonly stubborn. "I ain't givin' up," he says, jutting his chin out. Then he adds, after a moment of thought smoothes the belligerence out of his face, "Ain't none round abouts Bree."
"No place for any of us, come to that," Brev mutters in answer to Carac's first words. "Except there's no place without them." He lets out a bark of laughter. The rest of the speech leaves him shrugging helplessly. "If that's true ... Kiern, I don't want to even think about it." And he grimaces. "You're the wise one, you come up with something?"
Gidon's words bring a frown to his face. "No-one said anything about giving up," he responds, perhaps a little too sharply. "But - you're wrong about Bree." A strained silence follows before he states flatly, without actually looking at the lad (or at Carac), "Lost my mother to a troll when I was five years old. Not one day's journey out of Bree. A Chieftain risked his life to avenge her, but it didn't bring her back."
[Carac(#32384)] Carac takes a moment and then nods. "If the threat is as great as it seems, it may make others more willing to join our cause," he says. "Either way it is too late to turn back or give up now, we will continue on and meet whatever lies ahead."
Again he falls silent and then reaches out to give the younger man's shoulder a soft clap. "We'll set things right one way or another," he says.
[Nob(#16122)] Gidon goes mute again, his silence that of someone unconvinced, but unwilling to say so. But something in Carac's words seems to strike a chord with the boy, and he glances at the older man, and stands a little straighter.
Brev's head jerks round as Carac speaks. "It /will/ take more." There, the words are spoken aloud now. "I just don't know where ... There's a woman here - Cordy - who claims to come from lands east. She's after something, I just haven't figured out what." He heaves a sigh, and runs a hand through his wet curls. "Want me to tell her we're looking for more men and see what happens? I'd avoided it so far, didn't want us to look weak."
He glances at Gidon out of the corner of his eye, and for a moment the sour look on his face softens. He manages - just - not to smile at the display of Youthful Purpose.
[Carac(#32384)] Carac considers Brev's questions momentarily and then shakes his head.
Finally he turns to Gidon. "If your father is not about, perhaps you should continue onwards with us," he says. "We've need of some more strong men like yourself," he adds, hoping to make the offer sound more attractive.
[Nob(#16122)] The words are strange, senseless. But Gidon listens as intently as if he knew their meaning. And when the man turns to him, he starts a little at the Common Tongue. He flushes and shakes his head. "C'n hunt a bit is all," he demurs. "Where're you going? If..." he leaves the sentence unfinished. "Might be I could come," he says at last, cautiously. "Might be Da' went that way, an' I'd hear tell of him."
Brev listens to the stream of Dunael, and nods, not commenting further. At Carac's words to Gidon his lips twitch, ever so slightly, and he lifts a hand to rub at his face to hide it. "Might be," he says cautiously. "You'd be better off with company, in any case."
And then, before anyone can say anything more, he announces, "Figure I've spent long enough in this rain. I'm off in search of somewhere drier." Without waiting to see if the others will follow, he adjusts his wet cloak and moves off through the rain.
Players: Brev, Gidon, Carac
Located in: Dunlending | Breefolk
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Dunlending
- In search of the past: What now?