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<blockquote data-quote="Shayuri" data-source="post: 3009915" data-attributes="member: 4936"><p>Kuma's brows beetle together slightly as he considers the dwarf's words. He was not a man of many words, and when he spoke he tended to make his speech as well considered as possible. Though he was not above the occasional tactical deception, lies did not come easily or naturally to him. Wastes of words, more often than not. If there was anything that struck Kuma about warmlanders, it was how easily they wasted. Wasted water, food, words, paper...if there was a resource, it was a fair bet that warmlanders reaped it in plenty, and let rot what they could not consume.</p><p></p><p>He didn't hold it against them now, though it had taken getting used to. They lived according to their means. They paid for their riches by being, by and large, fat and weak. Like the cows they raised...cared for and saw to their every need, making the herd slow and stupid and easy prey, if their caretakers ever wavered.</p><p></p><p>But the exceptions were -very- exceptional, and he had found great honor fighting with some of them. The bulls of the herd, as it were. The gazelle among the sheep. It had seemed strange to him for some time that in the warmlands, those of great personal power did not always also wield control. The kings and queens were sometimes great heroes, but just as often they were the other sort; puffy and indolent. Yet somehow, these great ones, these champions who would have been chieftains among his people...they appeared where needed, did what had to be done, and moved on. They were, he realized, the caretakers. The shepherds. They guided and inspired by example, no matter who the king of the moment was. Their deeds rang through time, passed along in the writings and stories.</p><p></p><p>It was not, in the end, a bad way. Like all things, it had grown to be what it was through untold ages of trial and error, until it perfectly suited the place. It was not his way, but it was not a bad way.</p><p></p><p>So he respected his present companions greatly, each for their strengths, even if they were not his strengths. Especially if they were not. He took their questions seriously.</p><p></p><p>"Mmmm," Kuma rumbled finally. "A war, we would have heard of. Wars begin slowly, like a tide coming in. And...while I've no doubt we could catch a thief between us, I do not think we would be the first ones in mind to do it. No. I will say it is a terrible beast, or...perhaps something precious lost to darkness, needing recovery."</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Shayuri, post: 3009915, member: 4936"] Kuma's brows beetle together slightly as he considers the dwarf's words. He was not a man of many words, and when he spoke he tended to make his speech as well considered as possible. Though he was not above the occasional tactical deception, lies did not come easily or naturally to him. Wastes of words, more often than not. If there was anything that struck Kuma about warmlanders, it was how easily they wasted. Wasted water, food, words, paper...if there was a resource, it was a fair bet that warmlanders reaped it in plenty, and let rot what they could not consume. He didn't hold it against them now, though it had taken getting used to. They lived according to their means. They paid for their riches by being, by and large, fat and weak. Like the cows they raised...cared for and saw to their every need, making the herd slow and stupid and easy prey, if their caretakers ever wavered. But the exceptions were -very- exceptional, and he had found great honor fighting with some of them. The bulls of the herd, as it were. The gazelle among the sheep. It had seemed strange to him for some time that in the warmlands, those of great personal power did not always also wield control. The kings and queens were sometimes great heroes, but just as often they were the other sort; puffy and indolent. Yet somehow, these great ones, these champions who would have been chieftains among his people...they appeared where needed, did what had to be done, and moved on. They were, he realized, the caretakers. The shepherds. They guided and inspired by example, no matter who the king of the moment was. Their deeds rang through time, passed along in the writings and stories. It was not, in the end, a bad way. Like all things, it had grown to be what it was through untold ages of trial and error, until it perfectly suited the place. It was not his way, but it was not a bad way. So he respected his present companions greatly, each for their strengths, even if they were not his strengths. Especially if they were not. He took their questions seriously. "Mmmm," Kuma rumbled finally. "A war, we would have heard of. Wars begin slowly, like a tide coming in. And...while I've no doubt we could catch a thief between us, I do not think we would be the first ones in mind to do it. No. I will say it is a terrible beast, or...perhaps something precious lost to darkness, needing recovery." [/QUOTE]
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