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Vors had been silent a great deal once again, the party moving so quickly and effortlessly, like a polished unit. Tasks being done, undone, goals accomplished, he ensured his drawings on another hand were as accurate as he could make given the time provided to him. He'd taken a post at a pair of double doors, and found it less-than-interesting. Perhaps he was not where he felt most comfortable, being in a different place that was very quiet, very calm, and very suspicious. Yes indeed - a temple kept outside of normal society, kept safe with aasimar protection, and just an entirely different dimension - this was nothing normal, but he needed to get used to this life, this brand new life. Still, didn't mean he didn't need to keep himself inactive. They talked, and he listened, and he was fine with simple acts, for now. He'd make his presence known later - or he would be a fool of a son to his heritage.
Vors tilts his head after following the rest of them accordingly into the meditation chamber. He listens intently, and he smirks at the gnome, nudging him gently before he makes his attempt. "Truer words haven't been said yet." As he watches, he begins to think about joining in - unity and all those good things. He manages to pick up a few of the spheres, the according amount, and begins to attempt.
Vors seems very, very silent now. It's as if he is waiting for someone to ask the wrong question, or for someone to ask the right one to receive an answer that might hold some meaning. Having been listening in now, he yawns and continues to lean against the wall, cleaning up his sketch for accuracy. He even adds a small compass so he can remember which direction 'north' is. Important. Korada provides. This sounds more and more like a fanatic, unless that's a god's saying. Then maybe it's more or less zealotry. I suppose we're fortunate we haven't been 'provided' for them, yet.
Vors seems to be on guard at best. There's not much more, since he has most of his work done - but during a few times while doing so, he manages to make rough sketches of the dimensions around him. He seems to take note of directions, and the way things are positioned, doing what he can under the time alloted.
"Right then. Library, then garden second. The pursuit of knowledge is a worthwhile effort, and I am all for it." He seems slightly bothered, though, as she walked away. Something off - every claim and explanation was clear, normal even, and yet, they were welcoming. Perhaps too welcoming? But for a man of his status, one should not question gifts given! Nonetheless, he moves to wait down the hallway by the library, where Fendahl seems to have beaten him to it. Fancy that.
"Right then. Let's move along while we can, I say. The sooner we know our bearings, the better we'll be. Apologies for forcing your hand, but I'd rather not eat the food of a place I've never been to. Something about poisoning the messenger..." He shrugs, and begins to walk down the hallway towards his right, waiting at the entrance of it to ensure he isn't leaving alone.
Vors scoffs a moment. Arrogance came back easily, and he'd no longer want to be in the room, moments later. The mention of acolytes gave him an image of rituals and sacrifice, or those in robes with who-knows-what capabilities. Better to strike first than second. "I think I'll return in a short while. I've a need to go move about, since my blood wants to move. Anyone else for the jaunt?" he offers, walking just outside the room to the main clearing.
Oh, so you mean, if you want to split the party, we're welcome to do so? I really didn't think there was a sandboxy PFS scenario. I'm far too used to 3.5's Living Greyhawk to know any better, so, it's good to see some variety. Also, while we don't have a diplomat, if we can just ease our way through social situations, we might be okay. It's when combat starts that we're going to get hectic, I wager. Yeah, it's also DragonCon weekend, so there's even more people missing.
Vors seems keen enough to notice some things as they are escorted, though nothing unusual for he followed without anything further. He did sheathe his weapon accordingly, for appearances were everything. Everything, indeed. They're far too friendly for 'explorers' barging into their home. That said, there might be something up, or perhaps they're just... nah. Just roll with it. The half-elf takes a position behind a seat, leaning to the wall without any accordance for seating. Having noticed that nobody else has done so, he'd not do so until there was proof in its safety. Caution first, always. "Thank you for the graciousness, but I think I shall wait for the food to arrive before I seat myself. Too much time sitting down in other places create a bad habit, I'm afraid. That said, I have a question for you before we move any further, if you might be kind enough to answer?" "See, I'm taking reference notes, and I want to ensure I have the directions set in stone, so I can refer to their placement. In what direction is north from the main hall, so I might be able to accurately describe the temple?"
There's too much talking, but communication is key. We're being obviously loud, but, they'll learn sooner or later. Maybe then we'll be a bit better on whispering before we decide a door's prepared for opening. With a hushed voice, Vors speaks up from besides the door, hand drawing out falcata into readied palm, spinning it idly. He appears prepared for a break-in when the situation draws to its pinnacle. Offhand gripped the strap to his buckler, and tightened it accordingly. "Whenever we're ready to move in, just go ahead and open both doors. With so many of us crowded, we need to move in and spread out, should we have the room to do so. If not, then we'll need to make some kind of formation, I wager." Prepared, he'd now await the grand moment...
With little more than a few steps, he'd found his orientation gone. He pulls out a small book, and marks a few key notes in it, quickly as he can, before he catches up with the rest of the expedition. DM OOC:
Vors moves over besides the door, and lets his hand slide along the handle of the blade at his hip. He notes how everyone had also been writing more information done - perhaps he should have been doing so as well. That said, he was more concerned on providing able security for the time being, and made for a smirk to lighten the mood. "If we're lucky, you won't find any traps - and if you do, hopefully they'll be simple enough, hm? Otherwise, I dare say we might be stuck. But, the best of luck to us as we venture forth!"
The stage was set - the actors chosen, each of their roles plucked precisely for the purpose. Each of them were set to purpose, to support king and country (or otherwise), and whatever their personal ambitions might have been. Vors, for example, sought out glory for the nation, and honor for himself - more than anything else. He had an arrogant smirk upon him as he leaned to a wall, watching the reactions gauged on the faces of his compatriots. They appeared competent, for the most part, equal skill to he if not greater. The expedition might not be so exciting, though - not what he'd hoped for. "Right. We're to go in, play excavator, and otherwise get our hands dirty if it comes to it. Sounds joyous."
Right, guess I better do a better introduction to my character then! Vors is a youth from Oppara, capital of Taldor, and looks far more human than elven through his heritage - his agility tends to give notice, though. Dark hair and bright-eyed, he seems far too arrogant for his own good. He's very much the spit of the society he hails from, having learned their style of rondolero, and otherwise wears the gear of a man who is surely not in poverty. If noticed, his falcata has a symbol of his family engraved into the base of the blade, while the hilt has a slight curve to it. So! That's all of us, then? |
