conversations: human
conversations:  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." 
conversations: Paper_Bard:
conversations: human
conversations:  Ashana 
   "Have I?"  Ashana asks, still smiling at the Maldiir's pronouncement.   "I'm used to being alone in the wilderness, I guess.  Besides which, you've been making enough noise for all three of us,"  she adds, with a grin in her words.  The giant's voice was pleasant, but when she journeyed, she usually did so in silence.  A habit from her youth hunting, and one that still served her well.  The Anaphim's song, in such open country, had been nerve-wracking at first, but she'd learned that wild animals were rare enough here that they didn't have to worry, and after the first couple weeks, her fears of pursuit had eased; these lands had been empty of people so far.  Fatch was good at avoiding others, a skill she well appreciated given that she'd grown up learning how to remain unseen—both from the deer and animals she hunted, and from the men who'd considered her to be poaching.
  
   "That's really it, Fatch?  That's where they'll be?"   She peers forward, as if she might be able to pierce the distance and the walls to see what was inside from here.
conversations: The_Snark:
conversations: human
conversations:  Fatch growls.  "Indeed, if the outdated map that fool of a scholar gave us is accurate..." 
  
  You smile. When you had set out from the House of Goel headwquarters in the Northern Plains (Present day Canada) (the headquarters itself is situated in what used to be the great lakes area of Ontario), a scholar by the name of Elric had assistd you in preparing for your journey. He had been working with the great minds of the House to find the Dwelling of the Sleepers, and had provided a map he himself had penned.
  Fatch is a creature of the wilderness, and therefore has trouble getting along with scholarly and other civilized folk.
  
  Rumathar lets out a great bellowing laugh.  "Oh quit insulting the poor lad, his map's got us this far, eh?" 
  
  He leands down next to you to whisper in your ear.  "He's a pretty good lad, you know... and I bet he likes you. If you were an Anaphim lass of your age, unmarried as you are, you'd be considered an old maid!" 
  
  He chuckles again. While a good fellow, the giant could be a little blunt sometimes, and he seems to have decided its his fate to find a husband for you.
conversations: Paper_Bard:
conversations: human
conversations:  Ashana 
  
  Ashana rolls her eyes, repressing the urge to blush.  There was nothing wrong with Fatch; he could be a little prickly to get along with, but then so could she.  It was the giant's attempts at matchmaking that simultaneously amused and exasperated her; usually, she was exasperated at the time and amused afterwards.  She was fairly old to be unmarried, but she was of the House of Goel, and rarely spent much time in one place.  Certainly, there was no time to keep a house, and little time for courting.  Except on journeys like these, maybe.  The blue-eyed giant was the more handsome of the two, genial with a sense of humor, but from the way he spoke she guessed he would either be married already or celibate, and she'd never really gotten around to asking.  Given his almost fatherly matchmaker attitude, it would have been a bit embarassing.
  
   "Well, we aren't going to find out if he was right or not by standing here, are we?"  she says in a normal voice, trying to ignore Rumalkyr's grin for more than one reason.  She quickens her step.   "Come on!" 
conversations: The_Snark: