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Turn 7 |
GM:[Mage Only] This is what you overhear between the two females :- [Ranger and Cleric Only] Gwen smiles ruefully and touches the pipe with a lingering finger. She responds in a similarly low voice, keeping the conversation private. "Hideous, eh? I know of Clansmen of Brondheim who have lived to a hundred while smoking ten pipes a day, others, like myself, it seems, get the cough and have to either try and cease their smoking or risk worse fits. The herb is called Limia, it -" she shrugs, " - it kept me warm in the snows to the north, makes my hands so steady and eyes so sharp I could pluck a sparrow from the sky at 200 yards with my bow." She laughs and considers the faint tremor affecting her graceful fingers at the moment. "Unfortunately, now is not the best time to convince anyone of that. I would have been fine if I wasn't so tired. I have only ever had one other spontaneous nosebleed before - after a feast in Halbad when the air was thick with the smoke. Sometimes you ... see things when you over-indulge. Today," she says, going a little pale, "I imagined I could see serpents of black blood crawling beneath the land, poisoning it, killing the Earth Mother and grinning while they did it. I could almost feel the ground beneath the inn surging, then ... well then everything just went dark and I woke up to see the mage doing his thing." Gwen rubs at the blood on her fingers then reaches for the damp cloth to clean them off better. "The Clanmen's Shamans swear by the stuff." "Eeeew" "I'm assuming it's addictive then. Otherwise surely you'd stop polluting yourself with such stuff. And just because a bunch of shaman's, who in my experience are, no offence meant here, a group of mad, ah, bastards smokes something. The favour of their gods protects them, but you..." "There may be some alternatives, if you like..." Gwen smiles at this unabashedly colourful description of the wild clerics of Brondheim, but moves a hand a little defensively to the large, embossed leather purse attached to her belt. "I'm sure the shamans would buy you a drink if you had the chupataks <she adds this in Brondheim with a grin to voice you opinion of their activities in their hearing. As for the addictive bit - undoubtably - but unless you tell me the Limia's killing me, Nadia, I'm not about to stop, cause there ain't no alternatives." Gwen shrugs a little helplessly, a calm smile on her tanned face. Nadia just shakes her head. There is almost what could be considered a look of helplessness on her face, the inability to assist someone. "It is doing definite damage, but I think not much more than any other smoke," pauses, apparently trying to find the best way to phrase whatever is coming next, "It probably won't kill you quickly or in the near future, but the frequency of these attacks may increase, and that isn't a good way to go. I've attended similar, just the once, and it isn't pretty, dignified, or quick. And if it goes on too long the damage may..." stops, pulls back and takes a deep breath while dropping her gaze. Gwen looks a little discomforted and rubs at her throat unconsciously. "I apologise, I'm sure you don't want the details. If you can't stop, then I will not speak further along those lines, at least for the moment." A sideways grin, sardonically accompanying the final phrase, perhaps offering something in the future. The ranger pulls herself together with a small shake and smiles afresh. "I'm always content to listen to folk when they're speaking about matters pertaining to their trade," she murmurs in a friendly tone. "Perhaps I'll surprise, you, however, with my fortitude of will. Nothing's impossible to quit." Nadia leans back a little, returning one hand to the almost omnipresent grip on the leather bowcase. Gwen considers the package with an arched brow, then with a smile asks, "Isn't that a long bow case? Nadia flushes and almost lets go of the thing with alacrity. Almost. "It's just, ummm, it's just valuable, lots of ah, sentimental value. I've just got a very bad habit of.." She looks down, sheepishly, kind of half-grinning, and pats the case where it angles across her leg. The ranger nods and hooks a finger between the laces of her shirt, unconsciously loosening them a little indecently, Nadia's cheeks redden just a touch and her eyes try and focus on something else for a moment. Gwen smiles crookedly, her eyes are like joyous, sparkling amythests... and fishes out a magnificent, heavy gold ring which had been suspended out of sight on a strong leather thong. It looks like a signet, but has no apparent symbol on display. It is simply a smooth, spectacular band of highly refined ore. "I know all about special reminders and precious objects, my friend," Gwen comments with a faintly sad smile. "This was my father's." She gazes at the ring a moment longer, watching the fire light envelope it, before wrapping her calloused fingers around its solidity protectively. "If you have a habit of making sure the bow-case isn't doing any walking while you're not paying attention, I can appreciate the sentiment. Unfortunately, I'd get strange looks it I went groping down my shirt at every opportunity to check on my ring," Gwen chuckles then gets a mischevious glint in her eye. "Now if some attactive individual was doing the groping, however, I'd be less concerned and a great deal more cheerful, though the public place thing would still be a problem." Eyes widen a touch, probably just in surprise. The smiling ranger shakes her head whimsically ... .... and meets Nadia's eyes with charming aplomb. Seeing the cleric's expression, the ranger laughs softly, warmly, and delivers a playful wink before continuing ... "But if a thief decided to get overly intimate, I'd have to introduce him to my friend here," she says as she taps her vicious skinning blade. "I guess the point I'm trying to make - in my usual verbose fashion - is that you don't have to feel embarassed because it's evident you care about something. Its good to know someone here has some concept of what passion is. You just have to deal with my curiosity, is all." Agreeing and somewhat absent smile, as if the cleric has temporarily gone somewhere else in reaction to the words. The ranger smiles and drops the ring back inside her shirt. "So, is it a good bow? I'm kinda an expert on all things yew." Nadia practically swallows her tongue at the last and then takes a moment to realize exactly what the ranger actually meant. Her face reddens, again, and she has to drag her mind back into operation and this conversation. Once she pulls it back together, taking a moment, the next sentence rushes out, almost as if by rote. Gwen smiles about the rim of her goblet, her cheeks are healthily alight, echoing the cleric's flush. "It's a very fine weapon. The best I've ever seen of its kind. Its a little unusual, so it takes a little time to get used to it. So pretty much only I can use it." The half-elf nods, her lovely features brilliant with curiosity. She leans forwards, shirt laces trailing on the table top and says in an undertone, "I have an affection for all fine things, especially when they only sing for skilled hands. A rare weapon, however, has its own exquisite interest - especially if it's a bow. Might you introduce me to this treasure when we aren't being ogled by all and sundry?" "So. Up to seeing a dungeon tomorrow?" Nadia's face assumes a huge grin. "Oh, aye. We'd have to be, well, like those shamans, but, yeah, it sounds like fun." No touches of sarcasm in that at all. Gwen chuckles, lifts her goblet in a toast. "To your brave soul, Nadia. May it strengthen the hearts of all those who come in contact with its radiance and make all the fish-wives you ever meet puke with envy. Cheers" Half stands and bows, in half fun and full earnest, although there is a little bit of stutter in the movement at the last line there. Sitting, "Should we invite anyone else, do you think?" Gwen arches a brow and leans gracefully back in her chair. "I suppose we should. Especially if we're to be sticklers when it comes to the prophecy's directives." [End of Ranger and Cleric Only] [Everyone] The two female adventurers appear deep in quiet conversation. [Everyone] The ranger taps on her goblet with her eating dagger, seeking the attention of the gathered diners. With her melodic voice raised so that all in the common room might hear, she announces; "Nadia and myself will be departing for the Dungeon of Doom tomorrow morning at day break. We would very much like you, Ari, to accompany us as a guide, though I have already gained a feel for the land nearby. All others, whether mentioned in the prophecy or not, are also welcome to travel with us. I presume supplies can be bought if you are not already equipped, or, for a small fee, you may employ me to acquire fresh meat and wild-growing vegetables for your sustenance along the way. Of course, this latter option will not apply to the period spent within the Dungeon. I think it is high time we had some sort of definitive commitment to the task at hand. Any takers?" [GM notes – unless people desparately wish to explore the countryside until reaching the dungeon, it will be a closed thread summary of the journey – otherwise you might not reach the dungeon this year] |