video;

[inshiningarmor]

[ Mandorallen is dressed in plainclothes, but he's holding his broadsword in view of the camera, stepped back a bit so that most of his body is in frame. ]

The recent calamity that hath befallen this place was a mortally dangerous one, as we all are keenly aware. And methinks it will not be the last -- it doth go without saying that there is something decidedly strange about this place, and none of us could pretend to understand its ways or those of the strange people who reside here. But one thing hath become clear: this place, friendly and idyllic though it may often be, can pose great danger to us. And not all unfortunate souls here are well-equipped to defend themselves.

So, fellow foreigners, I have a proposition for thee. I am well skilled in the arts of war; any man or woman who doth wish to receive instruction so that they may better defend themselves, and live to serve or fight another day, should do so as to contact me. I can offer lessons in swordplay and, though it is not my forté, hand-to-hand fighting. These lessons will come free of charge to those who might seek to learn, for I am loathe to rob thee of money for something so important.

Comments

[polyhistor]

[AAAAARGH.]

So how is it you're willing to adapt to the consoles, exactly?

[inshiningarmor]

I am afraid I surely do not know.

[ He seems a bit sheepish to admit it, but hey, Mandorallen's still not even sure what a computer is. ]

And yet thou findest my answers most dissatisfying.

[polyhistor]

Not-- not dissatisfying so much as curious.

[inshiningarmor]

[ Mandorallen can tell Reid is one for the intellectual pursuits, unlike himself. Something about the intensity of his curiosity almost reminds him of Belgarath. He can only imagine how much Reid might enjoy talking to the aged sorcerer. The man is seven thousand years old, after all. He's accumulated quite a bit of knowledge in his time.

But alas, it's Mandorallen here, not Belgarath, and something about Reid's manner has endeared him to Mandorallen. ]

If thy tongue doth burn with curiosity, then I assure thee, thou art free to ask without hesitation. Thou art certainly not the first to have many questions for me.

[polyhistor]

['MY TONGUE DOESN'T BURN WITH ANYTHING' no Reid, breathe. This isn't any different than attending a play or talking to someone who likes to stay maddeningly in character during a production of Shakespeare. He is not going to be ruffled by this. He isn't.

Even if the fact he can't explain it is driving him crazy.]

You mentioned the Arends. Are there-- other races? Groups? That don't [be nice] -- talk that way?

[He sounds just the slightest bit strangled. He's trying really hard not to just lose it, okay?]

[inshiningarmor]

[ Reid, Mandorallen does not understand your strange, sickly distress, but he'll gladly answer your questions. He never thought he'd be the sort, but since he came here he's found that he enjoys talking about his home world. ]

But of course. In truth, it is only the Mimbrate Arends, my people, who retain still the idioms of old. I assure thee, we are quite aware of the, ah, anachronism. The speech of most other peoples of my world more closely resembles thine.