[center][color=ff9900][h3]Gartoj[/h3][/color]

- In Shazah's tent -[/center]

The dramatically oversized drow had silently hoped for a quick and efficient discussion instead of being forced to drag himself through a fruitless debate of bullshit. Yet what he had been confronted with had definitely surpassed his hopes in terms of being brief. Good on one side, but on the other there had been severe... deficiencies. They had been of a kind Gartoj would never have explicitly thought of, let alone mentioned them in the public. The first and foremost of them simply was that the [i]leader[/i] of a party [i]he himself had put up[/i] should not get himself drunk... He had not counted how many times Shazah's lips had made contact with the rim of his tankard, but the ubiquitous smell of booze in that tent had been disappointing enough. The drow felt less easy as he left the tent, not taking notice of the fact that one of his own kind had been in very close proximity all the time.

What to do now ? Try and follow some of the other people who had been in there with him ? It would have been worth a try if there had been less -- and maybe less diverse. With so many different races it was difficult to predict the social dynamics in there, wasn't it with what little information he had ? However that Draconoid could reasonably be considered an unstable element out of sheer experience.

So instead of caring about others, Gartoj opted for caring about himself. There still was a decent and especially large breakfast to be fed into his stomach. And then there was the question of equipment... He'd have to separate those items of foreseeable value on that kind of journey from those that would merely be ballast. At this point Gartoj was already wondering about when the first one of his future party would find out about the irony behind the fact that he, a mage focused on ice, would have deliberately stranded himself in an entire desert made out of the frozen element. He even was looking forward to that possible moment as it would allow himself to designate someone being a fool. What could be better for a mage than being surrounded by what knew and could manipulate best ? An ubiquity of fire didn't make an additional flame in it less dangerous as well.

[center]- In the camp -[/center]

Sluggishly, the drow pushed himself forward through the busy area back towards his tent. The reflections caused by  polished steel attracted his view immediately, but... could he really afford to take both of his swords with him ? Gartoj was enough of a realist to know that his efficiency with these weapons was unsatisfying at best at the moment, so better not be weighed down by two of those things. One would have to suffice. That set of lockpicks however... He'd never leave without that! Of couse it was an item bound to invoke grins and chuckles in the face of everyone who didn't truly believe in snow elves which could posess anything that required to be unlocked -- a mindset Gartoj assumed pretty much everyone in the party would share, except for himself.

For him, snow elves were an intriguing theory. He too had heard about tales of the past of something fiery having happened in the high north. A vague, crude allotment of statements about something humans had sought for, hoping that it would win some kind of conflict for them. Another riddle waiting for either resolution or utter elimination, both things Gartoj could appreciate from a strictly analytical point of view. He loved unconventional approaches and, quite frankly speaking, so far he had not gotten the impression that the resistance would hold up against the apotheoses without some kind of miracle. So there wasn't really much to lose anyway, except for a few months or years of one's life which would have possibly remained intact otherwise, of course. Science was a risky business, he knew that. It was not the only risky business he was attending to.

Ah! The rope! Now that had to go with him for sure. Even without any tall buildings there'd probably be plenty of cliffs and other obstacles waiting for that kind of tool. It was a solidly made bundle of fibers, strong enough to hold up against the enormity of its owner and outfitted with a hook at its other end. Not exactly an ordinary hook, but the devil's in the detail, especially those which can't be seen. The piece deviated from the color of steel, betraying the fact that it had been made out of a different, darker material. Wrapped into a modest layer of cloth Gartoj could rest assured that it wouldn't damage anything else in his large backpack.

Still there were hours left. Time Gartoj spent on what he could do best: Find good things to eat. He bought as large quantities of salt meat, breat, water and wine as he could reasonably carry and find in the camp. By the time he was finished and approaching the rendezvous point, the little dispute between Reed and a couple of men Gartoj failed to identify had already started to unfold. However he arrived late enough to remain oblivious to the fact that other individuals had already opted to take sides. Should he intervene ?

Better not. If there wouldn't be a fight maybe that would help teach those men that there were better options to flat-out brutatily (and that hammer [i]did[/i] look brutal!) and if there would be a fight it would help to find out who was capable of what even before their journey had started. And maybe it would drive away the boredom the weather seemed to inflict not only him with. Was there a subtle smirk on Gartoj's face ? The drow put himself down onto a small trunk that happened to be nearby, ready to spectate what would happen now from a hopefully save distance. 

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Summary: Lazy drow getting himself ready for the begin of the upcoming endeavour, then finding out that there are people who obviously want to bash their heads on a mutual basis and watching silently. At least as long as he isn't dragged into the conflict deliberately or by accident.