conversations.from: system
conversations.value: ROLEPLAY_MODE: Develop the plot slowly, always stay in character. Describe all actions in full, elaborate, explicit, graphic, and vivid detail. Mention all relevant sensory perceptions. Keep the story immersive and engaging.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: lowlevelowl: DRAMATIS PERSONAE  
   Teremis Drison, Neutral Once-Human Fighter , played by  Archdeacon GX 
   Gunslinger, Lawful Neutral Steel Elf Arquebusier , played by  Bowerbird 
   Mertil Skarlador, Steel Elf Artificer , played by  Tyrael 
  
  Dust whipped into the leather footwear and the crevices between clothing, blowing out within seconds but leaving behind uncomfortable granules of sand. The wind here seemed almost like a malicious spirit. It wasn't a gale or even a breeze. Its presence was too subtle to pick out as a truly present threat, but it was always there, poking and prodding and whipping dust into godsdamned everything.
  
   
   Spoiler 
   
   
  
  
  This wasn't an environment fit for steel elves. Their machinery had been crafted in a temperate clime, not in this land of dust and wind and shallow valleys. Teremis, their human escort, was having substantially less difficulty dealing with the dust then they. So they put their heads down, and walked.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Bowerbird: The Gunslinger grits his teeth at the dust, keeping his coat shut and his hat low.  He glances at his current companions, the fellow Steel Elf tinkerer, and the Mercenary.  Nobody had been particularly talkative so far, which suited him just fine.    I'll have to clean this ****ing dust out of my guns every day in this ****   he thinks to himself bitterly as they trudge on through the wasteland.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Archdeacon GX: Teremis stops atop a small hill and looks out over the land ahead, leaning on his spear like a large walking stick, his back somewhat hunched from the mutation brought on by the taint running through the veins of humankind. A grey cloak flutters about in the breeze behind him, as does the unkempt, dusty brown hair on his head. For a man in his mid-twenties, Teremis looks much older than he is, his brow wrinkled and his grey eyes dimly reflecting his grim demeanor. Surveying the area, he nods to himself and glances to the others, intoning with his strangely solemn voice, " We're making progress. It shouldn't be too much longer, I believe. "
  
   
   Spoiler 
  I'd make a Knowledge (Geography) or (Local) check, but Teremis doesn't have ranks in either of those.
   
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: lowlevelowl: The travelers come upon a trail of footprints in the dust, small and shallow - the tracks of a gnome. They are still quite clear in the dust - the gnome must have just passed by in the past few minutes.