Lost (Public)
Jan 11, 2017 22:23:16 GMT
Post by Digu on Jan 11, 2017 22:23:16 GMT
"We're lost and you know it," Digu declared emphatically, one hoof pawing impatiently at the ground. The caravan master huffed indignantly from his seat on the lead wagon and jabbed a finger at the map in his hands.
"We're not lost! We're exactly where I said we are. Another day, maybe two, on the road and we'll hit Ashdell," the little man spat impatiently as he started to tuck the map away. She reached out an armored hand and deftly plucked the parchment from his hands.
"You're right, we are a day or two's travel from Ashdell," she said as she turned the map over before handing it back to him. As he took the paper in his hands, it was her turn to jab a finger at the thing. "If we were where you said we were."
The former lancer of the Therien military crossed her arms over her steel breastplate, one hoof still pawing at the ground in irritation. The caravan master sputtered and huffed as his face turned red with anger. After a few moments of useless and inarticulate words, he finally found his voice.
"And how do you know that, then? How are you suddenly the expert on maps all of a sudden, eh?" he demanded, his face and bald head resembling a rather large and somewhat lump beet with ears. She fixed him with a glare and jabbed a thumb at the map in his hands.
"Because the map uses Dwarf runes, its only of the region, and I've been to Ashdell before," came her simple, blunt response. "The runes are upside down, sir, and while I can't read Dwarvish, I know enough of the language to tell which was is up. We're nowhere near Ashdell."
"Then where, pray tell Mistress of Dwarvish Maps," the caravan master spat as he not-so-carefully folded the map up and angrily thrust it into his coat. "Where in the blasted world are we, then?"
"We're halfway to Mystmarch."
"Fine, then, we just turn east and go back the other way," the man grumbled as he started to turn, about to give the order to turn the caravan around.
"We can't," the Centaur said before the caravan leader could give any such order. "Due east is Deamhan Fhole territory and beyond that their kinsmen live. It's certain death to go due east now and we were lucky we haven't wandered into their territory on the way here. We should turn south until we hit the river and cross it, then follow it down to Ashdell. But we need to go quickly."
"Why?" the small man demanded, crossing his arms impudently. He hated having his authority questioned or corrected and she knew it. She mentally made note to find another caravan to hire on to at Ashdell. If they made it there, at least.
"Because we're close to the White, near the mountains," she said, uncrossing her arms and placing them on her hips, a habit she'd picked up from her time in Theriens' lancers.
"What's so dangerous about the northern mountains besides cold, Centaur?" the man asked, his tone angry and rumbling. Before she could respond or explain, distant thunder could be heard as it rolled across the land from the mountains in question. The sky was clear, no storms loomed and there wasn't a cloud in the sky.
"Giants, Caravan Master," she stated after a moment, turning to get to work. The caravan needed to move quickly and it was the guards' jobs to keep everyone together and moving. "Among other things."
Ernst Walcott
"We're not lost! We're exactly where I said we are. Another day, maybe two, on the road and we'll hit Ashdell," the little man spat impatiently as he started to tuck the map away. She reached out an armored hand and deftly plucked the parchment from his hands.
"You're right, we are a day or two's travel from Ashdell," she said as she turned the map over before handing it back to him. As he took the paper in his hands, it was her turn to jab a finger at the thing. "If we were where you said we were."
The former lancer of the Therien military crossed her arms over her steel breastplate, one hoof still pawing at the ground in irritation. The caravan master sputtered and huffed as his face turned red with anger. After a few moments of useless and inarticulate words, he finally found his voice.
"And how do you know that, then? How are you suddenly the expert on maps all of a sudden, eh?" he demanded, his face and bald head resembling a rather large and somewhat lump beet with ears. She fixed him with a glare and jabbed a thumb at the map in his hands.
"Because the map uses Dwarf runes, its only of the region, and I've been to Ashdell before," came her simple, blunt response. "The runes are upside down, sir, and while I can't read Dwarvish, I know enough of the language to tell which was is up. We're nowhere near Ashdell."
"Then where, pray tell Mistress of Dwarvish Maps," the caravan master spat as he not-so-carefully folded the map up and angrily thrust it into his coat. "Where in the blasted world are we, then?"
"We're halfway to Mystmarch."
"Fine, then, we just turn east and go back the other way," the man grumbled as he started to turn, about to give the order to turn the caravan around.
"We can't," the Centaur said before the caravan leader could give any such order. "Due east is Deamhan Fhole territory and beyond that their kinsmen live. It's certain death to go due east now and we were lucky we haven't wandered into their territory on the way here. We should turn south until we hit the river and cross it, then follow it down to Ashdell. But we need to go quickly."
"Why?" the small man demanded, crossing his arms impudently. He hated having his authority questioned or corrected and she knew it. She mentally made note to find another caravan to hire on to at Ashdell. If they made it there, at least.
"Because we're close to the White, near the mountains," she said, uncrossing her arms and placing them on her hips, a habit she'd picked up from her time in Theriens' lancers.
"What's so dangerous about the northern mountains besides cold, Centaur?" the man asked, his tone angry and rumbling. Before she could respond or explain, distant thunder could be heard as it rolled across the land from the mountains in question. The sky was clear, no storms loomed and there wasn't a cloud in the sky.
"Giants, Caravan Master," she stated after a moment, turning to get to work. The caravan needed to move quickly and it was the guards' jobs to keep everyone together and moving. "Among other things."
Ernst Walcott
