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[Caellath]

"What kind of company? In case it happens to be the senselessly angry, weapon-swinging kind then we should leg it right now." Artheus offered as he kept trying to clean off the last bits and pieces of seagulll excrement from his bag, all the while silently considering capturing a few of the flying searats to sell their meat as ground animal ration and turn their bones into needles, combs and hairpins for selling.

[Errol]

The goat was apparently not very clear about that.

[Dwarmin]

The Dracotaur flexed and rolled her deadly limbs, as her clawed feet pounded the beach sand with indelible marks, the translucent, almost pretty fins on her back angling slightly to catch the suns rays. How good it felt to be on land once more, with the Earth's heat and soil to warm her blood! Her own mind was more than half instinct, and the simple, primal goodness of the act was undeniable to her. It was what she had been made to do-it was inscribed in her very bones. She had done it automatically, with no conscious inflection-and yet now a part of her that was growing spoke up, in gentle warning.

Think, before acting

She had wondered about that voice, and many other things...such, as...how there were no expanses of water so vast in her own world as that she had just crossed, not nearly so...and how she had marveled so much at what might lie beneath those ocean depths. They had told her many tales-some lies, no doubt-but many sounded plausible....castles under the sea, great beasts, beautiful maids with the tails of fish and the tops of women (The men sounded most vigorous speaking about the tops, for some reason)...was it all to be believed?

She had seen too much to know for sure or nil.

What she did know was that this world was amazing. And very dangerous. And she was getting hungry. But it was warm, and she felt good about what what was coming ahead. She would listen to the voice, though, the one that seemed to be growing in her heart and mind, and think before acting.

...

"Run to where? Do we have any idea where we are? Perhaps you have concealed a pair of seven-league boots of transportation in your pack, there? I know you do not." Conra rumbled toward the merchant-man. Her tone didn't vary much-it was hard to tell if she was making a joke, or threatening to dismember him.

"I truly find it amusing that you are all lost in this single part of your own world, as I am merely lost in ninety nine out of a hundred parts of it. No, it's best we face the foe...er, whoever it is...'head on', as you hunams say. Better than fleeing from one mystery to another, unless the problem proves utterly insurmountable. They might even be friendly-if wary-and running would only make more cautious. If it's a predator, running only makes us prey.

I say we hold our ground and wait for the sun to show us the way on. That's a saying of my own people.

If they or he or she or it wishes to make trouble with us, well...personally, then, I hope it's at least edible company. I don't really want to eat the goat." She conferred, her hungry eyes flickering toward Roger for a moment with a sharp light.

She rolled out her shoulder with an audible pop. Such an odd situation.

In her world, whatever was coming for them would be an enemy, unless it announced itself-and it would, why would it do otherwise? The war never ended, just as the passage of seasons never ended. It had taken a good deal of time for her to realize that many of the creatures of this world seemingly had no allegiance to anyone but themselves. That it could very well be an enemy to them up ahead-a friend, or an enemy to them and friends to others of the same kind, or the other way around. It might even depend on the mood of the beings in question-not their nature, but their own free will to decide. Free will. Now, that was a concept that was nearly alien to her!

In Conra's world, it was by necessity black and white. Everything had it's place and everyone knew their role. In this world, she had found things were far more confusing...

---

Not posting them right now because, boy, I'm tired from this huge thing, I don't know how Dwarmin always manages to write so much.

As my favorite author Stephen King would be apt to say, 'One word at a time'

[Caellath]

Artheus tied the ends of his bag of loot to each side of his backpack and stood up, dusting sand off his traveling clothes before answering the giant lizard-thing's remark. "Yeah, that's why I asked what kind of company they are. You can be brave, but I'm not fit for combat. In case fighting breaks out, I'm staying out of it and believe me when I say I'd be of more help that way. And you'd be surprised about how inventive people can be about running." The merchant said, eyes narrowing as he stared at the treeline. Though he was certainly using a tone rougher than the one he used whenever he was peddling his goods, he still managed to sound pleasant whilst also avoiding the matter of the lizard creature's gender.

Of course, it's much easier to be willing to charge into the fray when you weigh more than the rest of the team - goat included - combined. That without taking in account the claws and the scales and the armor on top of the scales.

[Dwarmin]

"I suppose you're not exactly built for combat." Conra remarks, sounding both disparaging and curious at the same time.

"But, if someone backed you into a corner, you'd probably think of something-yes." Again, a statement and a question at the same time.

[Caellath]

"Yes to both. I'm neither built for combat and if backed into a corner I'd still choose a creative escape over combat. As I said before, I'm a merchant and not a warrior." Artheus answered, using a hand to gesture towards the entirety of his body and the lack of bulging muscles, sharp implements of death or heavy magic tomes that would show him as a capable and deadly adventurer. All of the equipment made for actual combat he had was hidden inside his bag for selling purposes.

[Dwarmin]

"You serve a logistical purpose. Like a wyr-hound that pulls a chariot for someone to fight in, or perhaps one of the spokes on one of the wheels of the chariot. You are not useless, then." Conra confides, in the tones of a patient boss to an lazy worker.

[Caellath]

After the lizard-thing's answer, Artheus said "Yes, thanks. I'm aware." in the hopes of ending the conversation right there and then without sounding impolite. He proceeded to get busy with something else, such as taking a few steps towards the treeline and trying to hear any sounds coming from beyond it that would hopefully tip on on what exactly was coming their way. Though he didn't expose it on the outside, it was like it had suddenly dawned upon him the revelation he was talking to the escapee of an asylum's mental ward. And by his book, crazy people were only good if they made him profit somehow.

Approach the woods a bit - keeping enough distance for a safe escape need be - and try to see if there are any sounds indicating the nature of the aforementioned "company".

[Dwarmin]

"You're welcome." Conra responded, truly pleased the merchant had taken it as a compliment. She hadn't quite gotten hunam politesse down pat, but it seemed brutal honesty, and a certain amount of abstract imagery in the spoken word impressed most of them-the others could be placated with outrageous lies and fabrications. 'You are as strong as an Ox', for example, tended to be a good compliment for a man who valued his personal physique-even if she didn't quite know what an Ox was, and even if the mans personal view did not quite match up to his own reality.

Wyr-hounds were much more intelligent (and useful, in her opinion) than most Hunams, for example.

...

"I suppose the trouble is going to come and meet us anyway. " She said, whomping forward, her body moving in rhythmic serpentine motion. She stopped well short of the treeline, however-they at least has a clear line of sight out here...

Action: Though keeping in range of my allies, lead them onward! Let's see whats coming to meet us...but, try not to go into the woods

[Dwarmin]

((This may sound obvious, but have any pms been sent out to players who probably forgot this game even existed? Not everyone is as diligent as I in searching for games to necro bump))

[Tiruin]

((You got the idea right, but I expect myself to be MORE exhausted than that, since gravity is...such a darn great force. :I))

((New word get! Metier!

Also yes, Dwarmin. I'm just basking in the brilliance that is literature. :>))

Alessa took a deep breath of the faintly salted-air and spread her arms wide as she felt the sun fall around her before turning around and admiring the scenery as her fellow shipmates talked. She was tired, and more concerned about the land she was in than what dangers would befall them--they were one and the same to her, as she couldn't see the familiar lines, intangible to most along the landscape and skyline. This was a strange world, however she was sure that whatever the Malkaven had taught her, it was indeed limited.

"We're all alive!" she said, taking a few stides towards the two nearest to the forest before looking back, "shouldn't we stick together before embarking?"

[Errol]

((This may sound obvious, but have any pms been sent out to players who probably forgot this game even existed? Not everyone is as diligent as I in searching for games to necro bump))

((Since all the players responded to the last necro-bump a few days ago, I figured they'd still be paying attention.))

[Dwarmin]

"We're all alive!" she said, taking a few stides towards the two nearest to the forest before looking back, "shouldn't we stick together before embarking?"

Conra turned slightly toward the short one.

"Alive thanks to your magics, mortal child. Otherwise we all might have found out what wonders live underneath these great blue oceans for ourselves, without the benefit of breath...and, now we're merely preparing for some diplomacy, not embarking. Something is coming certainly. It's nature will become clear quickly enough.

Are you feeling well enough to assist us? The exertion of such an act as you performed was no small feat." She rumbled, flexing her claws.

[Caellath]

Artheus turned his head to the cloaked figure and nodded in a friendly manner. Anyone who saves him and his merchandise from nearly certain demise deserves some respect. "Thank you very much for your help, by the way." Normally he'd have included a heartfelt thanks for also saving his goods, but he was fairly sure it would be a bad idea to draw attention towards the fact he had been reluctant to get rid of them when the boat was close to sinking.

[lawastooshort]

((Crikey - I don't log in for a few day and all the above suddenly happens. It's like some strange dream or something.))

Roger, followed at some remove by his goat, strode towards his fate-chosen companions, chewing on a tough stalk of grass as if convinced the bugger would keep him sustained for days if only he chewed hard enough.

"Company," he mused. "I wonder what kind? Well..."

He caught up with the strange scaly one, who clearly knew how to lead a herd.

"No point beating a bird about the bush, as my master once said, eh? Your spirit is strong, madam."

He righted his hat and strode thoughtfully after the large lizardy one.

"Or is it miss? Come, Derek. Let us hope that it is not the owner of yon washing line that advances upon us with such haste..."