Turn 12, the Basics of Southern CommunicationEmilia decides not to make the mistakes of Ziph and Erta, and goes ahead to look for a pole to make exploration safer, stepping over to the ruined facade of the destroyed house. On the surface, she can't quite find anything, and so she moves in further and further, trying to pull various bits of debris out, but none of the larger ones seem to budge in a particularly helpful way. She keeps looking through the ruins until she becomes aware of something. A bird of a size comparable to that of a large raven, and similar in the general proportions of its body, but altogether more colorful, with bits of yellow mixed in with the black. It appears to be staring at her, bent forward, and stamping its scaly feet on the half-ruined perch it is standing on. Emilia tilts her head at it reflexively, and this seems to tick the bird off somehow, as it instantly swoops toward her.
"WELCOME-TO-YUNGOR!" it screeches rapidly in an oddly humanoid voice as it descends toward Emilia, but she, fortunately, has not gotten this far without quick reflexes, and simply punches the bird out of the air as it draws close, sending it flying off to the side, tumbling over the ground while flapping its wings, then taking off lopsidedly, seemingly both sufficiently dazed and injured to try and flee. It attempts to fly away, only to veer close to the carriage in its flight. Reen, seemingly half out of instinct, puts her arms out and catches the bird mid-flight right before it would have flown but a foot or so overhead, placing it down on the top of the carriage and stomping on its head until it moves no more.
"I found dinner!" she yells out triumphantly, and the entire carriage seems to brighten up at the mention of fresh meat, even Erta to a very minor degree.
* * * * *
Edwin, hoping that this gnomestone path does not somehow lead to his death, served courtesy of Orange Pekoe at the hands of some malevolent gnomish ghosts or some other form of vile creature, assumes frail old man mode again, considering that he is nearing civilization, even if it is an extinct civilization, once more, at follows the black path southward, or what he guesses is southward.
Over the next few days of travel, the path takes him along a great many twists and turns, past small hills and over slight valleys, and nowhere, peculiarly enough, does it seem very overgrown or poorly-maintained. If he did not know any better, he would almost say he's gone back to a strange time, a time when the gnomes still lived and humans had not even settled in this area, and as he proceeds along the path, he encounters a strange sight at last - a small fork in the road, where the gnomestone path veers in two directions. One seems to lead toward a gnomestone foundation, but not an empty one - in fact, it seems to have been built upon most interestingly, with a massive wooden construction taking up every bit of it, with tall walls similar to that of a fort made from wood of the surrounding swamp.
And what's more, there's people there. One can only see their heads in the various windows, curiously gazing at Edwin as he passes along the road, eyes full of innocence and interest in the old man approaching them. Their heads look a little strange, somewhat foreign in looks, but in Allochthon such a thing sometimes has to be expected.
* * * * *
Derek knows the secret of communicating with people of foreign dialects - it is not to converse louder and clearer in your own language, but to ask them to speak slower and more understandably for poor travelers like himself.
"Erm, I be sorry thar, but I don’t be understanding, you see, I weren’t brought up correct to understand when people speak proper like what they do down here in the south. Can you be repeating yourself a bit slower, like? We three be merely humble pilgrims on our way through this fair town to the southern mountainous mountains, and don’t be meaning no harm."The guards don't quite seem to be getting his rather poorly-executed attempt at a very near-Southern dialect with a tinge of far-Southeast, and merely shake their heads and gesture very expressively in response, the context of the gestures peculiar and alien to a man more familiar with the western and northern varieties of dialect found along the banks of the Phibe.
Fortunately, Ehran comes to the rescue, saying something absolutely incomprehensible to the guards with an addition of very confusing gestures that Derek finds frankly suggestive, but the guards seem to have extracted something subtly meaningful from this somehow, and start nodding along and making gestures of their own, and then let the group pass right through.
"See, the dialect is not being so much about the talking and the wording, but more about the gesturing, and the spirit behind it, yeah?" Ehran says as they walk deeper inside.
"I dunno what they were wanting from us, 'zactly, but the way they be talking here is more 'bout gists and implying things, far as I know," he explains further.
"I was once all being in a market 'round these parts when I was but a lad, and it was real fun to be buying things around here. It's real helpful to be a bit drunk here, goes without saying."Sweetie laughs and pats Ehran on the head, who beams back at her. Derek looks around the interior of Bellstarae - a rather prosperous place, all things considered, although the masses of people present seem to be quite immense, and if one looks at them hard enough, one can perceive a certain tinge of desperation about them as well.
Derek: 5 MP
Wilhelm: 6 MP
Emilia: 4 MP
Edwin: 2 MP
Brennus: 5 MP
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Topic: Birth of a Deity: Turn 17, Multitudinous Failures of Words (Read 26107 times)