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 Posted: Sat Apr 07, 2012 8:03 pm
Castor was confused- he could almost swear the being called himself... something else. It seemed to imply luckiness. Ah. I am lucky. He's referring to me understanding Erosian. Why didn't he say so? Castor grew somewhat confused when the being spoke again. If he didn't know any better, he could almost swear that...
Castor shook his head. That was odd- unless he was mistaken (a distinct possibility), the creature was asking him... what a Shard was. Castor laughed weakly, as though he was trying to convince himself that the creature was joking. What does that even mean? Of course he knows what a Shard is... unless... Castor thought of Ahura's Arcana- wasted away, burnt out from the power he had used. But... it couldn't have sent him too far away... could it?
Forcing down his growing apprehension, Castor cleared his throat. "Certes ... certes, je suis toujours sur Mazda? Le monde des débris Mazda? Est-ce que ... le nom de ce ... la masse?" Castor winced- he was pretty sure he swapped out the word "land" for "ground." But the intent was the same. He was asking the unthinkable. He was asking whether he was still on the Mazda World-Shards. And he hoped to High Ahura that the answer was yes...
Because the alternative would mean that he was in more trouble than he ever thought possible.
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Posted: Sat Apr 07, 2012 9:14 pm
There was still a troubled look on the paladin's face when he turned to Linda for her observation. He just stared at her a moment then huffed a weak laugh and broke out that wide, stupid grin of his. "Don't rightly know bout magic to be honest," he scratched the back of his head idly then dropped his hand and stepped around the circle of doors, "Guess this is pretty magical though. Don't know what else could cause it. Well, maybe technology but the Order doesn't use that much and I know even less bout it." Alex started to ramble again as he walked the circle passing the doors slowly. "Is the Order's Chamber of Ways. How they move tween places so quickly," he paused coming to a stop to give the group a slightly nervous smile.
"We're not supposed to come here without a higher order Justiciar," the paladin half whispered at them then furrowed his brow with a glance to Pango. "Not sure how he opened the door. . ." Alex trailed off then shook his head with a shrug and turned on a heel to face the doors. "So which one should we open?"
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Posted: Sun Apr 08, 2012 1:04 am
Quintus nodded and slid the patch into a front pocket. "Lead the way," he told Sam. A guard followed. That was generally the case, anyway, when not anticipating danger, and alerting anyone to the anticipation was troublesome to relationships. After all, everyone expected everyone to trust them without any reason to. It was best to play along with that.
And what, exactly, would they do? Quintus had had his uncomfortable physical encounter for the week. Hopefully these weren't the touchy sort, or if they were hopefully they were easy to brush off. He hadn't seen clothing anything like theirs anywhere, and he just couldn't link it to anything he knew. The tents, those were familiar, but not the clothing. It made him uncomfortable. Sam leading the way would be best. Quintus would just have to keep quiet.
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Posted: Sun Apr 08, 2012 7:10 am
Mad Sam did not want to talk to anyone, let alone anyone new. Not right now of course. Not when all he wanted to do was blink out of existence until the smiles came back. Those real smiles. The one he plastered on his face looked about as fake as something plastered is expected to look. Realising this Sam drew his lips down over his teeth so he would not be mistaken for bearing his fangs.
Bearing your fangs at beast people nearly never worked out.
As the two wanderers approached the camp a sudden thought struck Sam; he had no idea what language they spoke, or if they would understand Sagus. Or if they had babel stones of their own. Or...
The merchant stopped. Quintus spoke a common tongue better than he, so if worse came to worse and the poor merchant could not be understood in his English or Sagus, he would have Quintus translate. Mad Sam shook his head at his inability to speak a common tongue and what a poor trader skill that was. But he could not dwell on the matter, in a few steps the duo had reached the edge of the camp and Mad Sam stood with a sheepish grin on his face waiting to be addressed by whoever took notice first. Sam may not have been able to fake cheerfulness at the moment, but nervousness came on quite naturally.
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Posted: Sun Apr 08, 2012 9:32 am
As the pair of travelers approached the camp's edge they were stopped by one of the few men not watching the dancers. This man was instead watching the dunes and had been watching the pair since they crested the dune into sight of the Faerin camp. He was dressed differently than those sitting at the fire. A few others like him stood at other points on the edge of camp, watching out – obviously guards. They all wore the same, simple clothing: woven tunics to the knees, fitted pants underneath tucked into knee high boots, their hands were wrapped, their faces hidden in turbans, all of it in shades of sandy gray-brown to match the desert. These men had no visible tails and their ears were covered but their almost glowing blue eyes belied their Faerin blood.
The guard that stopped them did so with a spear, lowering it to point at the two as they neared. Then, as Sam feared, he growled at them in a language neither spoke.
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Posted: Sun Apr 08, 2012 10:03 am
Mad Sam stared blankly at the cat for a moment. In his head the mischievous thought of getting angry and flipping out on the guard was steaming under a pressure plate of repression. But this guard was only doing his job and he was doing it in a language that made Sam briefly question the actual usefulness of babel stones if they did not catch every language; a rather common complaint for the hapless merchant.
The merchant's left eye twitched and he offered a rather apologetic grin to the Faerin. "D'yeh spek dis langage? Ef yek dou, veg arn 'athe' los'."
Do you speak this language? If you do, we are rather lost.
Sam took a step back from the business end of the spear. Still more nervous than afraid. Mad Sam ventured to lock eyes with the sentry, unwilling to let it have total power. He failed and looked below them instead.
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Posted: Sun Apr 08, 2012 10:16 am
Quintus remained silent but allowed his features to shift down a gear into a more aggressive expression. He folded his arms with it, a threat that he didn't realize the people here might not catch - his right hand was now closer to his pistol and it would take a simple swiping motion to clear his left arm and draw it. Of course, these people were not from North Africa, or Rome for that matter, and might not be deeply familiar with the shoulder holster. Either way, Quintus was supposed to be a guard himself and he wanted to look the part. That meant looking dangerous. He could do that.
Of course, his garb was probably a little on the strange side to them too, it occurred to him. Especially seeing as he was wearing dark colors, many of them black, in the middle of a desert. Lighter colors were generally advised for that sort of travel; he must look terribly out of place. He was, but they couldn't prove it, which was the important part, right?
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Posted: Sun Apr 08, 2012 10:57 am
The spear swung slowly between the two before settling on Quintus, the guard recognizing at least that he was the more dangerous of the two. Sam's words didn't seem to settle well with the guard and there was a long pause before he answered flatly, in better than Sam's English, “You are in the wrong place to be lost.”
There was a slight sneer and not so subtle threat to the man's voice as he watched the two, studying them closely and staying on guard as if he expected them to attack. The others dressed like him had taken notice by now and were watching as well though stayed where they were. The group at the fire remained blissfully oblivious to the world outside the dancer's circle.
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Posted: Mon Apr 09, 2012 6:07 pm
"Afraud ved dan't pak 'ere ta be los'." Sam spoke to the creature making eyes with Quintus. "Ye'd kinly pont deg vei out, veg go."
Afraid we didn't pick here to be lost. (If) You'd kindly point the way out we'll go.
The merchant was on the verge of wringing his hands, a rather nasty nervous habit he had picked up over the years. Sam's willpower floundered and he briefly considered skedaddling back over the dunes and out into the wild sand yonder. His mind, however, had different plans.
"Ples, Kyah om boot a travlin' markant. Ke es me gard. Ve'r kite 'ahmless."
Please, I am but a traveling merchant. He is my guard. We're quite harmless.
Sam decided to use the "totally ordinary" card, which normally worked on city guards. And while he did so his hands came together and his shoulders hunched. It added to the effect and came so naturally to Sam his body functions seemed to respond to it. His stomach growled. His smile never left his face. While he did not speak English well, convincing people was his element.
Still, Sam had every intention of scuttling away at the first sign of real danger.
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Posted: Mon Apr 09, 2012 9:03 pm
Skurk went quite quiet, parsed what he could, and declared:
"Je pense que nous avons des problèmes. Je pense que... que nous... ne... savoir... pas... где... " Skurk cursed in goblin. That wasn't even the right language. He sighed and pointed at himself. "Skurk." He sat on the dirt and pointed at his new involuntary companion. "Votre nom?"
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Posted: Mon Apr 09, 2012 9:33 pm
Despite the fact that neither of them knew the language very well, they were at least capable of communicating on a rudimentary level. At this point in time, however, Castor wished there was any possibility that he could have misunderstood the creature before him. But there was no mistake, no misunderstanding- he understood that sentence perfectly- his Conducting instructor used to berate him with that very sentence.
Je pense que nous avons des problèmes. I think we have problems. The way that the creature said it, his hesitancy, his confusion- even through the langauge barrier, there was no mistaking the meaning.
This creature, whatever he was, had no idea what Castor was talking about. And suddenly, it all added up. The ambient magic in the air. His malfunctioning Arcana. The strangeness of the environment. Even this creature itself confirmed it.
He was no longer on Mazda. In fact, he might not even be in the same system if the being hadn't heard of it. And that... that was unthinkable. But it was true.
His face registering nothing but blank shock, Castor fell back, sitting hard on the ground, looking at the ground in dull surprise. I've become pubescent. My Arcana aren't working. There's enough magic in the air to potentially kill me. I am quite likely light-years away from everything I know and love. He was only drawn out of his shock when the creature suddenly addressed him, pointing to himself and repeating something. The goblin sat down, then pointed at Castor.
"Votre nom?" he said, and Castor understood- the creature was introducing himself. Castor thought back to what he had said when pointing to himself. Skurk? Was that it? Odd name, though... not surprising, given the circumstances... Castor shook his head, trying to clear away his dazed feelings, and then dipped his head respectfully toward the creature.
"Kerberos. Castor Kerberos est mon nom. Un plaisir de vous rencontrer, Monsieur Skurk." He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. This isn't the first time I've been in an... unusual situation, after all. And this isn't even the most life-threatening. He nodded to himself, then addressed Skurk again.
"Savez ... savez-vous ... où sommes-nous?" Do you know where we are?
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Posted: Tue Apr 10, 2012 2:04 am
"Enchanté, Kerberos," Skurk answered with a sardonic smile. Charmed. Kerberos, no doubt, could really feel Skurk's enthusiasm for the circumstances they were in - lost and wet in an unfamiliar land. "Je ne sais pas où s- où nous sommes. J'étais... perdu?" He had no idea if 'perdu' carried the meaning he wanted there. "J'étais dans une forêt... en France, si... si c'est utile de savoir?" Frankly, at this point, Skurk was just conjoining words that had roughly the meaning he was hoping for. That he was at all close to accurate was something of a small miracle.
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Posted: Tue Apr 10, 2012 4:23 am
"Enchanté, Kerberos." Castor actually smiled at that line- this Skurk fellow sounded as exhausted and enthusiastic to be here as he did. Granted, since he had suddenly appeared in the middle of the pool they now sat forlornly by, he had little to celebrate. As this thought passed through Castor's mind, there also came a realization- a split-second before Skurk confirmed it- that the being himself would have no idea where they were. Which was a problem. Castor actually chuckled tiredly at that thought as Skurk asked his question. Seems like, wherever we are, there's nothing but problems.
Castor shook his head, smiling weakly, oddly changed from the intensity of his panic only moments before. Perhaps he had already resigned himself to their predicament. Or maybe he was simply to beaten down to care. Regardless, he was remarkably calmer, now. Perhaps that was best.
"Euh, ... ne sais pas ce que ... France ... est." I don't know what France is. Which was probably bad news for Skurk. He barked out another tired laugh, shrugging at the creature. "Pas si... juste ... oui?" He averted his eyes to the ground, not even caring if what he said was accurate. "Vous pourriez dire ... nous sommes ... baisée."
He wasn't precisely sure what the last word meant, only that his Conducting instructor used the word on one occasion when something terrible had happened to them. It seemed appropriate, in this instance.
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Posted: Tue Apr 10, 2012 1:23 pm
The guard's eyes narrowed suspiciously at Sam's words as it took him a while to translate. Wrapped hands holding the spear clutched it tighter. The weapon remained firmly on Quintus. He was studying them, both of them, and not liking what he saw. “Long way from trade route,” the guard growled and stepped up threateningly. Sam felt an icy chill crawl down his spine at the threat, an idle desire to wipe that smug arrogance from the cat's hidden face. Quintus felt a tingling burn where the woman's lips had kissed him, feeling more a snake bite than a woman's kiss.
But, luckily, before either side managed to do something unfortunate a voice called from the fire in that odd language neither man nor babel stone knew. The guard halted, shoulders tensing with what must have been a displeased sneer under the turban's veil. He hesitated a moment before stepping back slightly and calling over his shoulder an untranslated reply, keeping his eyes on the two before him.
The lost travelers could see past the guard to the group at the fire which had stopped their festivities now and were watching the intruders. Most of them wore some degree of wary suspicion but one, the one who had called out, had a curious grin on his young face. It was this one that approached the travelers now with a bounce in his step and thick white tail trailing behind him on the way. He was different from the others, younger and the only with white hair and fur. Sam vaguely remembered having heard something about white Faerin but he couldn't recall it at the moment, the guard's lingering glare was rather distracting.
“English, yes?” the boy flashed a fanged grin as he came to a stop at the guard's side. He may have come closer but the guard moved between them subtly and the boy kept his distance for it. Still he watched the travelers with a childish awe, taking in the sight of them eagerly. “Lost out here, you wouldn't happen to be new would you?”
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Posted: Tue Apr 10, 2012 8:20 pm
The merchant could not help but frown at the guard. When the youngling spoke up for them, however, Sam's interest piqued. Mainly because the group seemed to respect it, at least enough for the spearman to not decide to run the travelers through. Sam ironically remembered a certain phrase about cats and curiosity.
"Anklesh," Sam held his hand flat in the air before him and tilted it from side to side, smiling at the young one and deciding to ignore the guard, "kenda."
English, kinda.
"New," Sam said trying to mimic the cat's words, in an effort to clear his rather bad rendition of the language, "hee-a, yes." the mimicry slowed him down, "Olshfir, no." At least he did not mimic the beast's accent. That is generally considered an insult.
Sam shrugged his shoulders and smiled at the cat again.
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