Sure, take the time you need. I definitely felt a bit confused with where to go next, but things like that happen sometimes.
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"They are bastards, who would use others are pawns in their cruel games, each and every one. If their justice is to take a life for unjust means, it is a hollow promise made. As my companion says, we will help you, it is my word and my bond."
"Other men would seek your death for the simple fact that you dealt it to another, but I am not most. Life's blood is not lightly spilled, but at times the weight of such a decision is made right by necessity." He pauses for a moment before continuing, "Deceived, you say? How so, and by who?"
Gnarok walks forward, shaking his head. He extends a hand to help the man up, "Friend, there was no need for that. We are not here to take you away, to lock you in chains like the pale-faced barbarians who oppress your people. They are involved in our efforts, however. We have heard of a murder at the diamond mine, a group of Xhosa men shot a stone-searcher there. We are here investigating such a murder, out of the goodness of our spirits."
Gnarok focuses on the shooter. He grins as he mutters a prayer to the feisty and destructive spirits of flame as he directs them towards the man's gun. Someone less steeped in his neolithic mysticism would see this as a standard expression of pyrokinesis, but Gnarok was always one to do things his own way.
Gnarok heads forwards, trying to get a better vantage point on the shooter by clambering up onto a nearby ridge.
"The shooters are our best option for solving this murder. I say we look into them, see who they are, and what they sought here."
"Well, we could try to steal them, but the brutality of these slaving earth-renders...it does not speak well to our fates if we are caught."
Gnarok returns in kind, ”Strange indeed. These guardians of the stone-taker’s camp seem as if they might know something”
Gnarok stays quiet. Though he could possibly push his brain to speak English, he might end up defaulting to his native Proto-Indo-European and raise many, many more questions for himself.
Gnarok has half a mind to unleash fire and pain onto this man in the face of his sneeringly aristocratic racism, but settles for balling his fists and taking a deep breath, ”Once again, you find yourself in luck by our coming. We are small company, Whatsit and Nikolić, just the two of us. Often, we cannot afford not to work with locals. We bring one with to work as translator and guide. We can assist in talking to your workers.”
"Jaric" takes a moment to study the man before nodding in agreement with Jerimiah, "Da, he says true. Let me be direct. Tell me first, what did men who came and shot surveyor look like? Natives, Brits, others? Second, does company have enemies, people who wish to be seeing you fail?"
”Murder? Sounds not good. You’re in luck, back in homeland I was enforcer of law. You need help, we need diamond. We give to you, you give to us.”
“Jaric” nods. He plays up his accent, trusting these men not to recognize where he’s from, ”Travelling for days through this damn scorching wasteland, cannot stand the dust and the bugs. Let us cut to chase, I understand you have diamonds, да? We wish to buy.”
Gnarok nods, "It shall be so. What role am I to play? A partner in business? Or perhaps his brother, misguided but seeking to get on the straight and narrow, as endlessly strange of a concept that is."
Gnarok gives Jerimiah a crooked grin, ”My people are…well, those of my kinship called ourselves the Monekwos, the People of the Horse, but you would call us Proto-Indo-European. From what I have come to understand, it seems likely I am, somewhere far, far up the tree, your ancestor. Likely the ancestor of many in this tribe of time-wanderers.” His grin widens, ”So respect your grandfather, whippersnapper.”
Gnarok shoots a quizzical glance at Bekkah, ”Do I sense that you propose deception? The clever arts of the fox and the hare are respectable.”
Gnarok mutters, "Bastards, stealing the stone's shining blood for nothing but greed's sake. We are to simply let these injustices occur, and let these cruel masters continue their wickedness?"
Slight note, I used my telepathy ability to directly message Jeremiah.
Gnarok locks eyes with Jerimiah. He gives a slim smile to Jerimiah as his voice echoes in Jeremiah's head, "Not psychic, as our masters would claim. Chosen to hear the voices of the spirits of the land. We can speak more once we escape from their seeking ears."
Gnarok walks briskly, his stride purposeful as he approaches Randolph Elwin, "It is known you are in charge here. Speak quickly, tell what must be done. Life's currents rush onwards, as they ever do."
Gnarok strides into the command center, strides purposeful and sharp. Tall, head shaved bald, tattooed, with sharp features and a hunter's bearing, the man seems like he could have stumbled straight out of the stone age. In a way, he did. He mulls over the words he speaks, his accent odd yet strangely familiar, "Pff, these damned clocks. Bound to their ever marching hands. I have longed for freedom from them, to drift on the winds of time that our superiors have told us we can."
I’m still game to keep going if others are.
Gnarok studies the tracks, sorting through what he knows about the world and the wilds. Once he does, he heads back to the group and reports his findings, "There may be others ahead of us in the dry branch."
Gnarok goes just ahead of the party, doing some initial scouting of both paths to determine what they might hold.
"The spirits repay favors to them. The beast will live, and know of our kindness to it. That is it's own reward."
Same here.
Gnarok darts in, swinging his axe in a precise arc at the raptor next to him.
Gnarok runs forward, bare feet pounding the dusty soil.
Gnarok says softly, ”Indeed. The cat is weakened. Let us fend off these raptors.” He readies his axe and shield for battle.
"Hm, a big cat, most likely. Whether longclawed or sabertoothed, we will be in for a fight if it returns."
Howdy folks, starting tomorrow I'll be in a little beach town in Oaxaca for some serious chillin' out time, returning on the 9th of January. I may be able to squeeze a post in here and there, but signal/wifi is likely to be spotty at best. Please bot me as necessary.
Gnarok readies his axe and shield, "I smell it too. A grim omen." His green eyes flit towards Akash, "I am always ready."
With his piece said he approaches Iyemba and the stone, "I am Gnarok. I seek answers and freedom and a new path to whatever the spirits intend for me." He stands and nods, before stepping aside for the next hopeful.
I think Gnarok is about 200 or so.
Before leaving, Gnarok seeks out the clan elders, specifically the eldest of the three clan-mothers, Iyemba. She was the oldest of the clan aside from him, and he often sought her counsel. "Revered Iyemba, I give you greeting this morning." He takes a deep breath before saying, "I have been with the clan for many moons. I know my talents are well-loved and oft used but...I cannot tie myself to this place. To this life. There are answers I long for that I cannot find here. Once I have completed my rite, fate may call me away from the clan. I want you to know that I do not leave because I do not love you all well. I leave because the many loves I have lost among the clan weigh on my heart. There is so much out there I want to see, and I must east the burden on my mind if I am to return and live well."
"Hello. Can't sleep either?" she asks. Gnarok looks down at the young woman with a slim but warm smile, "Indeed, new sprout. Sleep is a luxury for the young. Embrace it while you can."
Gnarok's mind swims with memories of days long passed. Of when Otule slew the great bear that had snuck upon the clan fire, of when Umbu wrestled a stegosaur to the ground and took it's mighty horns for herself. Of the heroes of the stories he so loved to tell. Of how they all died, and how only he remained. It wore upon his soul, and he knew that he could not stay for much longer. He loved the clan dearly, for they had taken him in when he knew nothing, not even his own name. But he had been with the clan for a long, long time. Repaid the honor debt he felt he carried for their hospitality many times over. Today, he would find another path.
Hey folks, looking forward to getting started! Alias should be mostly set up. The alias picture is more or less how I imagine Gnarok looking with the face paint, green eyes, and stern bearing. Despite his sternness (if that's a word), he's deeply, deeply committed to the wellbeing of the clan and it's people. He's travelled with them for many years (think two centuries in forbidden numbers) and as such has a vast knowledge of their history and customs. Many of the other characters, I'd think, have early memories of him telling stories around the fire, his severity dissolving as he tells the tales of the heroic deeds of the clan's ancestors. That said, he also deeply wants to explore the world and find the truth behind his elven ancestry. Though he loves the clan, he's seen people he loves grow old and die several times, and that pain wears on him and some sort of respite from that would be welcomed.
Gnarok nods, "You make a fine point, Shouty." He pauses for a minute before saying, "Hm, bloodsuckers and someone stabbed with a stake. Either vampires, or somethin' similar enough as to be indistinguishable."
”What’re the odds of that, I wonder? Findin’ a corpse right where we intend to bury one...”
”Seems like it. Let’s hope Poltergal in there doesn’t get eaten by a ghost or somethin’ nasty like that.”
Gnarok shudders, "What in the hells? I'm with you Brine Boy!" Gnarok runs, following along with Darvan.
"Ah, you've disturbed the bloody church by muckin' about with the bloke! I could try shootin' it if things keep movin'. That seems to work most times with other things. Might make it worse though." He shrugs when Neziana speaks, "Eh, Shouty makes a good point. Try puttin' it back."
Gnarok follows along behind Darvan and Lalali. When the body is uncovered he raises his eyebrows, "Well, looks like we mighta learned what this poor bastard's fate was."
Gnarok shrugs at Caiden, ”If it’s goblins, put into a stew. If not...then we’ve got bigger troubles at hand, don’t we Poster Boy?”
”You know, I knew a fella back in Starfall named Deadeye. Well, one of ‘is eyes had fallen out on account of too much tech juice but...such is way of things.” He motions to his rifle, ”Not much need for the bow, I’ve got the missus ‘ere.” He pauses for a moment, ”So, ye reckon the goblins did it? Kidnapped the colonists to do some strange and unspeakable things to ‘em?”
Seeing the fleeing goblins being easily dealt with, Gnarok heads back to where the rest of the party is gathered, "Course there's more goblins. Take the amount of goblins you've seen, add a dozen, and then double it for good measure. Little bastards never make things easy." |