Paper_Bard
2008-04-01, 08:46 AM
You've been walking across the wastelands for several months now. Fathc, your guide, assured you he knew where you were going, but over the many long days of trekking through unremarkable wilderness, you've begun to doubt his assertions.
Rumathar has been his usual, jolly self. Taking up his race's penchant for singing, his storng, baritone voice has helped you keep your sanity for the past month.
Fatch and Rumathar, your friends. Well the giant, at least. Standing just under eight feet tall with a barrel chest, short, cropped blonde hair, and blue eyes, the Rumathar stood out in the flat, featureless wasteland like a sore thumb.
Fatch on the other hand, with his crouched gait, his pasty-white skin, dark eyes and even darker, unkempt hair, managed to blend seamlessly into the enviornment. He'd all given you camoflauged coats, supposedly to hide yourselves from wastelanders, but he was the only one who really knew how to use it effectively.
You notice a dark, wavy blotch on the horizon. At first you think it's only heat getitng to you, a mirage. Then Fatch dispels that illusion.
"We're nearing our destination..."
Rumathyr smiles and in his big, booming voice, proclaims "After months of trekking aimlessly through the wilderness, you've finally managed to bring us to the fabled 'Dwelling of the Sleepers." Fatch scowls at him with a sign of mock hurt. Fatch and Rumathyyr always liked to banter with each other, but neither really meant to hurt the other and neither took it personally.
The giant turns to you.
"You've been pretty silent through the whole journey, do you have any thoughts you'd like to share with us."
Rumathar has been his usual, jolly self. Taking up his race's penchant for singing, his storng, baritone voice has helped you keep your sanity for the past month.
Fatch and Rumathar, your friends. Well the giant, at least. Standing just under eight feet tall with a barrel chest, short, cropped blonde hair, and blue eyes, the Rumathar stood out in the flat, featureless wasteland like a sore thumb.
Fatch on the other hand, with his crouched gait, his pasty-white skin, dark eyes and even darker, unkempt hair, managed to blend seamlessly into the enviornment. He'd all given you camoflauged coats, supposedly to hide yourselves from wastelanders, but he was the only one who really knew how to use it effectively.
You notice a dark, wavy blotch on the horizon. At first you think it's only heat getitng to you, a mirage. Then Fatch dispels that illusion.
"We're nearing our destination..."
Rumathyr smiles and in his big, booming voice, proclaims "After months of trekking aimlessly through the wilderness, you've finally managed to bring us to the fabled 'Dwelling of the Sleepers." Fatch scowls at him with a sign of mock hurt. Fatch and Rumathyyr always liked to banter with each other, but neither really meant to hurt the other and neither took it personally.
The giant turns to you.
"You've been pretty silent through the whole journey, do you have any thoughts you'd like to share with us."