Monday 12 September 2011 photo 6/9
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“Flummox, are you awake?" said Sareb.
“Do I look awake?" said the asura, popping open one eye.
The male sylvari watched the artificer sternly, as if suspecting a trap. At last he nodded. “Yes."
“Then I must be awake." Flummox let out a deep, frustrated sigh. “Why aren’t we moving?"
“There’s a problem."
“The wagon is not moving, it is cold outside, and you’ve awoken me from my nap," said Flummox, propping himself up on his elbows, one eye still closed in desperate hope. “I can guess there is some form of problem. Now tell me, my young sylvari, what is the problem?"
“Jotun," said Sareb, his breath steaming in the chill air.
Flummox opened his other eye and looked at his assistant. “Jotun. Well, then, you were right to awake me," he said, and slid off his makeshift bed of large pillows and blankets. It was cold in the wagon.
It was colder outside the wagon, and Flummox’s breath steamed around him like smoke from a chimney. Their small caravan, six wagons in all, was immobile, the yaks huffing and stomping in the thin mountain air. They were in a steep vale, and large ominous shapes loomed at the head of the valley.
“Never did like the Shiverpeaks," muttered Flummox. He fished out a tablet and small chunk of charcoal. He wrote down a list of items and handed it to Sareb. “Check the other wagons, and see if you can get the items on this list. We’ll need them to get the apparatus operational."
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Annons
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