[h3]Charles Balderdash[/h3]
“No what are you doing!?”

Charles had shouted, and jumped a rather impressive height, when Dimitri had thrown the rock at the wall leaving what Charles was certain was a new dent in the already crumbling structure.

“We need to be careful and methodical about this. We can’t simply just go about the place willy-nilly.” Here he paused for a second to throw his arms about the ruins before resuming to speak rapidly in annoyance. “As Rozalind said, we need to try and reconstruct the scene as best we can. I have images from shortly after the incident we can use for reference, don’t worry I selected the ones with the least amount of gore and such in them, and from there we can try and build a bigger picture of what happened.”

Moving over to where he had placed the equipment he had brought, just outside of the main structure housing the ruins, he began to rummage around picking out the tools he felt would be most useful. This included several large lamps, small trowels, containers of various sizes, chequered tape, a few meter sticks, measuring tape, a few cameras, pencils and paper, and finally a bulky laptop suitable for the weather conditions.

“We’re going to need these lights placed around the structure, try and place them so that they light up as much as possible, thought they are battery powered and will only last a few hours so let’s try and use them sparingly.” Charles spoke loudly as he explained, hoping those nearby were listening. “If you find anything you think is interesting just give me a shout and we’ll collect and document it. Vaughtar if you place any snow and rubble you dig you somewhere…”

Charles again paused to rub his chin in thought, the snow on his glove giving him a small start, trying to find the best place to put everything, somewhere out of the way but not too much of hassle to transport to. In all of this thinking and planning Charles had failed to notice the commotion happening nearby concerning a skeletal dog.

“Just over there.” He pointed to the other side of the ruins. He then stopped and frowned, looking Vaughtar up and down.

“You doing alright there mate? Looking a little bit off colour.” His hands delved once again into one of the bags and pulled out a folding chair. “Need to sit down at all? It won’t do anyone any good if you make yourself sick or something, are you having trouble breathing at all? Feeling light headed?”

The one thing the requisitions office had failed to provide them were oxygen tanks, given that the altitude where the ruins sat wasn’t high enough to cause most mountaineers default breathing. But then again most mountaineers were human which Vaughtar was not.