IC Flashback Thread: Chapter I, Enter Belaros

The dust from the road seems to part as if ordered to. Or maybe it just has to respect armour that shiny. Anyway as it pulls back like a stage curtain, a costumed performer steps through. The mirror finish on his breast-plate blinds you momentarily, before the gleam of his teeth, the twinkle in his eye and the lustre of his oiled hair each take their turns. Just before your eyes have recovered, your nose is overwhelmed by the flowery perfumes he apparently bathes in.

He grins a kind of grin that won't become commonplace until fan-zines are invented, and he says in a deep baritone, projected - so people in the back can hear

"Helm's blessings be upon you friends! I am Belaros!"

'pause for applause' he whispers to himself through clenched teeth 'two..three...four....'

"Belaros!" he repeats. "Belaros..... of Ravilar's Cloak?" he questions "Belaros the fair?"

Marabi brings her shield around and raises her right hand - palm towards her, with the back facing towards the knight.

"Vigilance is my watchword, and my stalwart shield indomitable." She answers, reciting part of Helm's catechism.

It is a sign. Did I not pray to The Watcher this morning, and here is his left arm?

The warrior's eyes burn brightly with religious fervour over her filthy facemask.

Rolen feels as if he has to reply in a similiar order even though he's not sure how to respond to such an impressive display of... chivalry?
I am Rolen. Blessings of erm... the floating disk be upon you he says while trying to stand upright like a knight would

"Ah! " Belaros blurts "strictly business. Yes, right"

He returns the salute, and says dramatically

"HE.... of the unsleeping eye." before bowing deeply.

Without releasing her gaze and forcing herself not to blink, Marabi twists her shoulder and taps the front of her shield with her right palm. Hold the stare. Hold the line. Never look away. Never retreat.

"Steadfast"

Helm is one of her favourites. And Tempus. And Sune. And Mask. And Torm. And Loviatar. And…

Marabi collects gods the way a child collects pretty stones without understanding geology. She’s no student of religion, and she knows nothing of their history. Show her a lucky Tymoran Common and she’d think it was just a copper disk - but greetings and offerings? Those she knows. It’s as though she knows how to say "hello" and "please" in many languages but no other words.

The followers of Helm are proud and trustworthy... if they live up to the ideals of their god. They are such easy targets for practical jokes and most of them can take it. Except those who can't they tend to swing swords around and demanding satifcation. Like they can't get it anywhere else.
Marié is looking hopes that he can take a joke.

Rolen returns the bow. He's not sure if this is the correct way of greeting Belaros as he hasn't encountered someone like him before.
After a short moment of awkward silence Rolen asks
So you can help us? We had a pretty unpleasant encounter with... we don't really know with what. Apparently some kind of being that can twist the minds of people. And it wasn't the first time either. Have you ever encountered something like that?

"help?" Belaros mimic s "ha ha lad! I am HERE to HELP!!"

he throws his meaty arm around the elf's slender shoulders

"this......situation...being encountered by you, me, and all of them included, is simply........unacceptable. To you. To me. And to all of them."

he gestures vaguely to all other lifeforms in the vicinity

"SO. Let's fix this up, please Helm, and um, reap? the um, accolades?"

Marabi wears her emotions openly on her face and does not hide her frown. This knight sounds like an idiot.

But she trusts muscle and blood and gods more than magic and tricks, and Belaros looks sturdy enough.

"We go to the Orsraun.

Rolen is clever. He has studied books. He will work out what is happening."

She proclaims her certainly in Rolen with absolute confidence.

Three cubs, an old goat, and a peacock.

behind his larger than life smile, Belaros is feeling self conscious. 'do they not like me?' he thinks 'but I am Belaros!'

time to turn on the charm...

"ah yes! he is clearly as clever as you are beautiful" (insert used ox-cart salesman grin here) "this merry band will make short work of... the, well, situation..."

his eyes twitch back and forth between the woman the elf and the cat. His smile even falters for a brief moment. Then he brushes an iota of invisible dust from his brightly coloured tunic, and his armour seems even more impossible shiny.

"ha HA! Let's get to it then friends! The, uh, situation, waits for NO ONE!"

'that should have these rubes eating out of the palm of my hand' he thinks to himself.

Marabi's right hand flashes into a fist. Her narrowed amber-brown eyes are as hard and bright as polished bronze, and her shoulder loose enough to throw an overhand.

Beautiful?! Sarcastic foal pizzle!

Marabi is fully aware of the hideous scar creeping across her cheek and out of her kerchief. She knows that she is no beauty. She lifts the bottom of the scarf enough to spit at the knight's feet then turns her back on the peacock.

Helm had better protect him because my shield will not.

Considering her morning prayer to The Watcher, it is a minor blasphemy, but Tempus is a god worth honouring too.