[ Usually when embarking on an undertaking such as this one, Claude has an extant rapport with who he'll be working with -- but desperate times call for desperate measures, and so they are put into the unfortunate position of having to trust each other, no matter how little they know one another. He had volunteered his services to help scout out the desert, and so that's precisely what he intends to do.
His eyes linger on each of the members of the team in turn; the noble fellow who had come to his Apothecary seeking salves, the young woman he'd briefly met while encumbered by some sort of sleep spell, the young man who had spearheaded a trip to this very same desert, and a man he's done no more with than tease about his dreadful fashion sensibilities.
This ought to be interesting. ]
A pleasure to meet you all! We don't have much time for niceties, all things considered, but... Claude von Riegan, at your service, [ he says, giving whoever's giving him the time of day a little wink. ] And this mighty steed beside me is Zafeera. She'll be helping us scout the place.
Now, I've done a desert campaign or two, so you can trust that I know my stuff, and that I know that the desert isn't a terrain to be taken lightly. [ He sets one hand on Zafeera's flank, gesturing at the bags hanging from her saddle. ] I've packed enough resources for all of us accordingly, but there are a few things we ought to be keeping an eye out for.
ii. wyvern rides.
[ While Claude intends to be riding Zafeera the entire time - it would be dangerous to let an inexperienced rider take the reins - he's happy and willing to give people rides in shifts, to help with the look-out, to rest their weary feet, to get a moment's respite in the seemingly never-ending march. ]
All right. I think we could use an extra set of eyes from above to find what we're looking for. [ He claps his hands. ] Who here's not afraid of heights?
iii. sandstorm (darude)
[ It's just as Claude feared. The desert is a dangerous place, and even more dangerous when they're as ill-equipped for it as they are, having had only a matter of hours to prepare themselves. He's used to embarking across the desert with an entire caravan of seasoned professionals, wagons of supplies, easily erected shelters, but this? This is entirely beyond him.
He can feel things taking a turn for the worse before it even arrives, the wind licking at the base of his neck, the faint rustling as the sand around them begins to shift, as though feeling as much unease as Claude himself. ]
Shit.
[ He dives into Zafeera's bags, yanking out swaths of fabric and beginning to pass it out. ]
You feel that? A sandstorm's coming. We're not making any more progress until it's passed. Wrap this around you and cover your mouth and nose, shield your eyes. We need to find cover, quick.
[ It may not only be a sandstorm licking at their heels -- there may be sandpits afoot, an oasis to take shelter in, the chill of night. This is the prompt for all and any environmental dangers! ]
iv. the terminal
[ Eventually they make it to their destination, the same ruins that many of them had stumbled through so many months before. If anything, it looks even worse now. Claude hesitates, then draws his bow, a grimness to the set of his jaw, the usual spark of humour in his eyes thoroughly dimmed. ]
We were attacked by ghosts last time we were here. And this time...
[ He glances over, seeing a rumpled form on the ground, cast in shadow though there's no building large enough to cast it. ]
...maybe after we're through here, we can finally lay them to rest.
claude von riegan | ota (wildcard option for those not in the group!)
[ Usually when embarking on an undertaking such as this one, Claude has an extant rapport with who he'll be working with -- but desperate times call for desperate measures, and so they are put into the unfortunate position of having to trust each other, no matter how little they know one another. He had volunteered his services to help scout out the desert, and so that's precisely what he intends to do.
His eyes linger on each of the members of the team in turn; the noble fellow who had come to his Apothecary seeking salves, the young woman he'd briefly met while encumbered by some sort of sleep spell, the young man who had spearheaded a trip to this very same desert, and a man he's done no more with than tease about his dreadful fashion sensibilities.
This ought to be interesting. ]
A pleasure to meet you all! We don't have much time for niceties, all things considered, but... Claude von Riegan, at your service, [ he says, giving whoever's giving him the time of day a little wink. ] And this mighty steed beside me is Zafeera. She'll be helping us scout the place.
Now, I've done a desert campaign or two, so you can trust that I know my stuff, and that I know that the desert isn't a terrain to be taken lightly. [ He sets one hand on Zafeera's flank, gesturing at the bags hanging from her saddle. ] I've packed enough resources for all of us accordingly, but there are a few things we ought to be keeping an eye out for.
ii. wyvern rides.
[ While Claude intends to be riding Zafeera the entire time - it would be dangerous to let an inexperienced rider take the reins - he's happy and willing to give people rides in shifts, to help with the look-out, to rest their weary feet, to get a moment's respite in the seemingly never-ending march. ]
All right. I think we could use an extra set of eyes from above to find what we're looking for. [ He claps his hands. ] Who here's not afraid of heights?
iii. sandstorm (darude)
[ It's just as Claude feared. The desert is a dangerous place, and even more dangerous when they're as ill-equipped for it as they are, having had only a matter of hours to prepare themselves. He's used to embarking across the desert with an entire caravan of seasoned professionals, wagons of supplies, easily erected shelters, but this? This is entirely beyond him.
He can feel things taking a turn for the worse before it even arrives, the wind licking at the base of his neck, the faint rustling as the sand around them begins to shift, as though feeling as much unease as Claude himself. ]
Shit.
[ He dives into Zafeera's bags, yanking out swaths of fabric and beginning to pass it out. ]
You feel that? A sandstorm's coming. We're not making any more progress until it's passed. Wrap this around you and cover your mouth and nose, shield your eyes. We need to find cover, quick.
[ It may not only be a sandstorm licking at their heels -- there may be sandpits afoot, an oasis to take shelter in, the chill of night. This is the prompt for all and any environmental dangers! ]
iv. the terminal
[ Eventually they make it to their destination, the same ruins that many of them had stumbled through so many months before. If anything, it looks even worse now. Claude hesitates, then draws his bow, a grimness to the set of his jaw, the usual spark of humour in his eyes thoroughly dimmed. ]
We were attacked by ghosts last time we were here. And this time...
[ He glances over, seeing a rumpled form on the ground, cast in shadow though there's no building large enough to cast it. ]
...maybe after we're through here, we can finally lay them to rest.
v. wildcard!
[ hit me up, babey! ]