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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: 6028293" data-attributes="member: 40464"><p>Garavel looks toward Gerber, Abud, and Abu'l as Jadid wanders off on his own. </p><p></p><p>"<em>We should perhaps start with questioning the camp,</em>" Garavel says in the northern tongue.</p><p></p><p>"<em>Not sure how much assistance I can be with that, Garavel,</em>" Gerber answers. "<em>Does anyone around here speak the Emperor's Prustan?"</em></p><p></p><p>"<em>Father Zafir.</em>" Garavel motions toward the cleric tending the injured mercenaries. "<em>As does Almah and I if you wish to ask the questions.</em>" He shrugs. "<em>The rest, yes and no. But not good, yes?</em>"</p><p></p><p>"<em>Thank you, I'll start with him,</em>" Gerber says, motioning to Zafir and walking off. </p><p></p><p>"<em>Father,</em>" he says to the cleric, "<em>My name is Gerber Loewe. I've been hired by Almah. What do you think happened here?</em>"</p><p></p><p>((Translated from the Imperial)) </p><p></p><p>"Ah! Gerber Loewe!" Zafir nods, somewhat distractedly. "Just a moment." </p><p></p><p>He mutters an incantation and traces script across the chest of the badly burned woman. Her blistered and blackened skin puckers and fades turning into a deep red shade like a bad sunburn. </p><p></p><p>"<em>Sabah. Next time don't rush so brainlessly into the fire.</em>" </p><p></p><p>The mercenary scowls and rubs her temples as Zafir turns back to Loewe. "Yes, Gerber. Apologies," he says with just the faintest trace of an accent. </p><p></p><p>"I do not know. I was reading a book by the fire, but these mercenaries were being too loud for me. I had just stood up to return to my wagon when the fire started."</p><p></p><p>"And which wagon is yours?" Gerber asks the cleric.</p><p></p><p>"Here." Zafir leads Gerber to a simple covered wagon about twenty feet from the camp fire, the inside of which looks as if a library and alchemist's workshop exploded inside covering it with papers, books, and beakers. "Almah hired me long ago to keep her and everyone else on this little journey healthy. A task they do their best to make difficult."</p><p></p><p>"And so, returning here, you saw nothing?"</p><p></p><p>"Nothing worth noting." Zafir sighs. "Truth be told, Almah is likely better off without Eloais's attention. We could do better than to have charlatans direct our course." </p><p></p><p>Zafir closes an open trunk of potions and looks across the camp. His gaze darkens as he sees Dashki and Mahjub walk into view around the perimeter of the camp. "We could do without those types, certainly."</p><p></p><p>Gerber frowns at the pair. </p><p></p><p>"Do you have any reason to believe the fire was anything more than an accident?</p><p></p><p>"Aside from the fact that fires don't start themselves?" Father Zafir sighs and waves his hands. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to corrupt your investigation. I simply find Dashki... disturbing. No one with healthy desires skulks around a pretty woman the way he does. And he's entirely too familiar with gnolls for my comfort."</p><p></p><p>"Thank you, Father," Gerber says, dipping his head slightly and excusing himself.</p><p></p><p>"Your very welcome son. Whenever you have a spare moment, I would love to transcribe any legends or stories you may have from your country."</p><p></p><p>"That's all they are, Father, is stories," Gerber answers without turning around.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Trench, post: 6028293, member: 40464"] Garavel looks toward Gerber, Abud, and Abu'l as Jadid wanders off on his own. "[i]We should perhaps start with questioning the camp,[/i]" Garavel says in the northern tongue. "[i]Not sure how much assistance I can be with that, Garavel,[/i]" Gerber answers. "[i]Does anyone around here speak the Emperor's Prustan?"[/i] "[i]Father Zafir.[/i]" Garavel motions toward the cleric tending the injured mercenaries. "[i]As does Almah and I if you wish to ask the questions.[/i]" He shrugs. "[i]The rest, yes and no. But not good, yes?[/i]" "[i]Thank you, I'll start with him,[/i]" Gerber says, motioning to Zafir and walking off. "[i]Father,[/i]" he says to the cleric, "[i]My name is Gerber Loewe. I've been hired by Almah. What do you think happened here?[/i]" ((Translated from the Imperial)) "Ah! Gerber Loewe!" Zafir nods, somewhat distractedly. "Just a moment." He mutters an incantation and traces script across the chest of the badly burned woman. Her blistered and blackened skin puckers and fades turning into a deep red shade like a bad sunburn. "[i]Sabah. Next time don't rush so brainlessly into the fire.[/i]" The mercenary scowls and rubs her temples as Zafir turns back to Loewe. "Yes, Gerber. Apologies," he says with just the faintest trace of an accent. "I do not know. I was reading a book by the fire, but these mercenaries were being too loud for me. I had just stood up to return to my wagon when the fire started." "And which wagon is yours?" Gerber asks the cleric. "Here." Zafir leads Gerber to a simple covered wagon about twenty feet from the camp fire, the inside of which looks as if a library and alchemist's workshop exploded inside covering it with papers, books, and beakers. "Almah hired me long ago to keep her and everyone else on this little journey healthy. A task they do their best to make difficult." "And so, returning here, you saw nothing?" "Nothing worth noting." Zafir sighs. "Truth be told, Almah is likely better off without Eloais's attention. We could do better than to have charlatans direct our course." Zafir closes an open trunk of potions and looks across the camp. His gaze darkens as he sees Dashki and Mahjub walk into view around the perimeter of the camp. "We could do without those types, certainly." Gerber frowns at the pair. "Do you have any reason to believe the fire was anything more than an accident? "Aside from the fact that fires don't start themselves?" Father Zafir sighs and waves his hands. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to corrupt your investigation. I simply find Dashki... disturbing. No one with healthy desires skulks around a pretty woman the way he does. And he's entirely too familiar with gnolls for my comfort." "Thank you, Father," Gerber says, dipping his head slightly and excusing himself. "Your very welcome son. Whenever you have a spare moment, I would love to transcribe any legends or stories you may have from your country." "That's all they are, Father, is stories," Gerber answers without turning around. [/QUOTE]
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Trench's Legacy of Fire (A Ptolus Gestalt): The Trouble With Pugwampis (Updated 1/27)
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