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Trench's Legacy of Fire (A Ptolus Gestalt): The Trouble With Pugwampis (Updated 1/27)
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<blockquote data-quote="Trench" data-source="post: 6027725" data-attributes="member: 40464"><p>"All is well, my friend?" Mahjub asks as he approaches the crouched man.</p><p></p><p>He looks up suddenly, as if noticing Mahjub for the first time. He sniffs the air. </p><p></p><p>"Yet you seem ill at ease," Mahjub responds, kneeling to partake in the same view as the crouched man. "My companions and I came upon the chaos in the thick of it, did you see what started the fire?" </p><p></p><p>Mahjub does a good job hiding the fact that he has a hard time breathing next to this man, who obviously has a very loose relationship with hygiene. The man seems startled at Mahjub's demeanor, as if he isn't used to being addressed in such a kindly fashion. His crouch tightens before loosening, ever so slightly. </p><p></p><p>"No," he says. </p><p></p><p>After a moment, his eyes dart over to Mahjub, still uncertain but clearly trying to work up to the act of speaking. "It... it has been a while since I have smelled burnt flesh. You?"</p><p></p><p>"It's never long enough, is it?" Mahjub empathizes. "As a child I witnessed many a dispute between rivaling merchants, one in particular seemed to enjoy the smell as searing the flesh was a favored punishment of his for betrayal or theft. This," he says, jutting his chin out to the scene before them, "is almost merciful in comparison." </p><p></p><p>"Where are my manners? I'm Mahjub, Mahjub Mutawalli," he announces, giving the filthy man a comforting pat on the shoulder. "Who might you be, my friend?" </p><p></p><p>"Dashki," he replies. He looks at the hand inquisitively, sniffing it before turning away, unsure what to do with it. </p><p></p><p>"Almah hired me about a month ago to tell her all about the gnolls living in these hills. Gnolls killed my mother and grandfather when I was a boy. They put fire to our village and slew hundreds. Somehow... I escaped with my father to the town of Al'Jahar, not far from here. It was a long time ago. I've forgotten most of what I saw. Terrible things." </p><p></p><p>Dashki stares off into the campsite but Mahujb gets the dinstinct impression he isn't seeing it any more. "I find it's the sounds that stay with me. The shrill howls and barks, hundreds of them at once. They sounded close to an audience. Laughing at us."</p><p></p><p>"Well Dashki, even one struck by blindness could see that you're reliving those horrific events as if it were yesterday. I must confess to a certain degree of detachment, I had to fend for myself on the streets of Rashadar from an early age, the scent of brunt flesh was not the only, or even the worst, of what I had to suppress to survive," Mahjub replies, trying to figure out Dashki's approximate age through the filth. "I apologize if my inquisitiveness has aided in bringing these harsh memories of yours to the forefront." </p><p></p><p>"You spoke of gnolls in these hills," Mahjub presses on. "Do you think they could have had anything to do with the caravan fire? I've had no experience with their sort, but I don't imagine them to be a naturally stealthy race. Surely there would be some trace of them to be found."</p><p></p><p>As far as Mahjub can tell, Dashki can be anywhere from twenty to thrity years old. </p><p></p><p>"Oh they can quiet as the night Mahjub." </p><p></p><p>"Father raised me to know everything about the gnolls, their customs, their language. So as better to track them and wipe them all out. All of them. Together we scouted their lairs, studied their tribes, listened to them speak until we can understand what they were saying." </p><p></p><p>"They're not dumb animals you know," Dashki says eagerly to Mahjub. "Not like you might think. In some ways they're even smarter than us." </p><p></p><p>"Father would have done well to remember that," he says bitterly. </p><p></p><p>"No, a well-trained gnoll could have easily snuck up and set the fire, but they wouldn't have stopped there. We would have been under attack while we were fighting the fire and much easier to slaughter. It is what I would do."</p><p></p><p>"I, of course, defer to your knowledge of gnolls," Mahjub replies, genuinely impressed. "You clearly know much more about them than I ever could." </p><p></p><p>"What say we make a sweep around the outskirts of the camp, see if we can find a trace of whatever caused the fire?" Mahjub offers. "A minor distraction, but perhaps it will give you a brief respite from the thoughts and smells that assault your senses."</p><p></p><p>Dashki nods after a time. </p><p></p><p>"The animals will have likely ruined anything near the camp," he stands. "But we can try."</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Trench, post: 6027725, member: 40464"] "All is well, my friend?" Mahjub asks as he approaches the crouched man. He looks up suddenly, as if noticing Mahjub for the first time. He sniffs the air. "Yet you seem ill at ease," Mahjub responds, kneeling to partake in the same view as the crouched man. "My companions and I came upon the chaos in the thick of it, did you see what started the fire?" Mahjub does a good job hiding the fact that he has a hard time breathing next to this man, who obviously has a very loose relationship with hygiene. The man seems startled at Mahjub's demeanor, as if he isn't used to being addressed in such a kindly fashion. His crouch tightens before loosening, ever so slightly. "No," he says. After a moment, his eyes dart over to Mahjub, still uncertain but clearly trying to work up to the act of speaking. "It... it has been a while since I have smelled burnt flesh. You?" "It's never long enough, is it?" Mahjub empathizes. "As a child I witnessed many a dispute between rivaling merchants, one in particular seemed to enjoy the smell as searing the flesh was a favored punishment of his for betrayal or theft. This," he says, jutting his chin out to the scene before them, "is almost merciful in comparison." "Where are my manners? I'm Mahjub, Mahjub Mutawalli," he announces, giving the filthy man a comforting pat on the shoulder. "Who might you be, my friend?" "Dashki," he replies. He looks at the hand inquisitively, sniffing it before turning away, unsure what to do with it. "Almah hired me about a month ago to tell her all about the gnolls living in these hills. Gnolls killed my mother and grandfather when I was a boy. They put fire to our village and slew hundreds. Somehow... I escaped with my father to the town of Al'Jahar, not far from here. It was a long time ago. I've forgotten most of what I saw. Terrible things." Dashki stares off into the campsite but Mahujb gets the dinstinct impression he isn't seeing it any more. "I find it's the sounds that stay with me. The shrill howls and barks, hundreds of them at once. They sounded close to an audience. Laughing at us." "Well Dashki, even one struck by blindness could see that you're reliving those horrific events as if it were yesterday. I must confess to a certain degree of detachment, I had to fend for myself on the streets of Rashadar from an early age, the scent of brunt flesh was not the only, or even the worst, of what I had to suppress to survive," Mahjub replies, trying to figure out Dashki's approximate age through the filth. "I apologize if my inquisitiveness has aided in bringing these harsh memories of yours to the forefront." "You spoke of gnolls in these hills," Mahjub presses on. "Do you think they could have had anything to do with the caravan fire? I've had no experience with their sort, but I don't imagine them to be a naturally stealthy race. Surely there would be some trace of them to be found." As far as Mahjub can tell, Dashki can be anywhere from twenty to thrity years old. "Oh they can quiet as the night Mahjub." "Father raised me to know everything about the gnolls, their customs, their language. So as better to track them and wipe them all out. All of them. Together we scouted their lairs, studied their tribes, listened to them speak until we can understand what they were saying." "They're not dumb animals you know," Dashki says eagerly to Mahjub. "Not like you might think. In some ways they're even smarter than us." "Father would have done well to remember that," he says bitterly. "No, a well-trained gnoll could have easily snuck up and set the fire, but they wouldn't have stopped there. We would have been under attack while we were fighting the fire and much easier to slaughter. It is what I would do." "I, of course, defer to your knowledge of gnolls," Mahjub replies, genuinely impressed. "You clearly know much more about them than I ever could." "What say we make a sweep around the outskirts of the camp, see if we can find a trace of whatever caused the fire?" Mahjub offers. "A minor distraction, but perhaps it will give you a brief respite from the thoughts and smells that assault your senses." Dashki nods after a time. "The animals will have likely ruined anything near the camp," he stands. "But we can try." [/QUOTE]
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Trench's Legacy of Fire (A Ptolus Gestalt): The Trouble With Pugwampis (Updated 1/27)
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