Rolf rubs his temples with thumb and forefinger as his head rests upon his palm, his elbow laid upon the hard wood of the library desk.  His other forearm, splayed across the open spine of a book on advanced motion theory, almost seems limp by this point but it isn't lost on Rolf that as he gently massages his aching head, his natural response is to push that arm, and the book it rests on away...

Actually, by this point, Rolf is happy to make up excuses to put the book down.  He has spent the better half of the last hour, his eyes shifting in and out of focus, trying to translate the verbose writing into any semblance of sense.  It had seemed a grand idea, some hours ago, to start ploughing though the text which was both written in Anglish (a rare thing, with so much of the magical arts written in Latin, which Rolf was yet to learn) and in a subject matter that Rolf was deeply interested in... though only now was he beginning to realize that there was no diamond in the rough.  In fact he was sure now that he was 200 pages in that he was not likely to really learn anything about point energy or planar magic that was of any real use...  Rolf yawns, flopping the cover of the tome closed.

It had been a long few months.

It seemed like forever ago that he, Darran, Lieutenant Broskow, and Bromdaeg had tromped back from the badlands of southern Megalos, with more of their number than not nursing significant injuries from the journey.  Broskow had his arm in a sling, cleanly broken from his fall down the rock face of the mine, while Darran's leg had been completely severed off by the Rock Worm which Bromdaeg and Rolf had barely managed to kill.  Only the Dwarf and the mage had been in any shape to carry anything back from the mine, which had proved to be an issue, as their single beast of burden had to be used to carry Darran back if they wanted to make any time at all.

Rolf sighs, his thoughts straying back to their leader, who seemed so much older now that the expedition was over.  Less a leg and with grey and white now streaked through his hair, Rolf had been worried about Darran's state of mind and his future.  The mage had visited Darran a few times since they had been back, one time pushing about a half a mark's worth of silver into the older man's hand.  But despite the injuries, Rolf couldn't help but say that Darran had remained just as determined, and just as productive (if not nearly as mobile) as he had been before the injury.  He was fitted now with a sort of prosthesis on his leg, a wood shaft that ended with wrapped leather which was good enough for Darran to hobble around on for a few hours at a time.

As for Bromdaeg and Broskow, Rolf had seen little of them since they had returned to Craine, though Duke Bran had been overjoyed at the prospect of copper and had recruited them both for another, larger expedition southward, this one including various craftsman and other laborers which had departed probably a month or so ago with a long line of mules and wagons...  Rolf had kept his nose mostly out of it, for he had no interest in returning so quickly to the mine where Darran had lost his leg.

"Ah, there he is!"

Rolf inwardly groans, for the voice belongs to none other than Sadim, one of the other junior members of the guild, just a year senior to Rolf, who seemed to have a special fondness for finding all of the worst jobs and requests in the guild and then passing them along to Rolf.  Every time Rolf heard that voice it seemed, it was another day wasted, time which could have been dedicated towards his studies.

"Rolf, I want you to meet Alma... Gasteyer, am I pronouncing that right?"

Rolf lets go of his forehead, bringing his right arm down to the small desk as he looks up at the two diametrically disparate people who approach him.  Sadim is long and lanky, towering four or five inches above Rolf's own height, his features smooth, his hair dark, his demeanor cool and charming.  The woman who walks at his side however, is about as far from that description as is possible.  Alma is at least a foot shorter than Sadim, Rolf would guess she barely scrapes over five feet, with rounded features and a cinched up smock-dress.  Her thin, blonde hair is wrapped into a tight ball at the back of her head, exposing all of her flushed face and slightly reddened eyes.  For the moment, she nods at Sadim before glancing back at Rolf.

The instant she looks away, Sadim flashes an over-expressive, shit eating grin.

"Alma here is the sister of Vunik Gasteyer, a former member of our guild and a wonderful friend of Master Dehogue.  It seems he has come across a little trouble recently."  Sadim readdresses his attention to Alma, concern etched upon his features.  "I assure you, Rolf is an expert in these sorts of things and he will manage to have matters sorted for you in no time."

Sadim glances at Alma again for a moment before inclining slightly.  "Well, I'm happy to have been of help!"  He winks again at Rolf before turning and starting towards the library door.

As for Alma, she continues to say nothing, only turning to meet Rolf's eyes, her puffy, reddened features seemingly caught in a moment of indecision.

OOC:  Thank you Rolf for the patience with getting this post up.  It is 2230 on the 27th of October, 2005.  It's been about three months since you traveled back from the mine at Three Corners with Broskow, Bromdaeg and Darran (Broskow indeed came all the way back with you rather than stopping back at the fort).  You have spent most of your time studying since the expedition, which seems to have made a good name for you, at least in the circles of the guild, which proves to be a double edged sword, as you keep finding yourself tasked with odds and ends that seem to constantly take you away from your studies.
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:02, Sat 21 Dec 2019.

The trip back from the cave was rough to say the least, if not downright brutal.  Darran was in unrelenting pain all of the time and needed assistance from human or mule for any sort of movement.  And since the mule was burdened by carrying a human, that meant more for the rest of them to carry.  And even more for Bromdaeg and Rolf as Broskow refused to carry as much as he could and feigned more injury than he really had.

The mages feet blistered, his legs ached, and his back was tied up in knots.  All of which were made worse by the unrelenting heat.  Still, he was lucky.  He didn't break any bones or lose any limbs.  Somehow he had escaped serious injury, but despite all his good fortune he can't help but feel a large heaping of survivor guilt.

He easily could have been the one on the mule nursing a missing leg if it were not for his magic.  He knows it gave him an advantage above more mundane means of protecting oneself.  He just wishes his repertoire of spells were more offensively minded.  If it were the fight with the giant worm might have gone much differently, and maybe Darran would still have his leg.

When the Duke Bran offered the chance to return to the copper caves, Rolf declined.  He had other plans that centered mostly on training, when he wasn't being bothered with mundane tasks given to him by the annoying Sadim.

Since his return to Craine he hasn't seen much of Broskow or Bromdaeg.  Which bothered him a little in the case of Bromdaeg.  He had grown fond of the dwarf, even if he never did get the hand of his slurred thick speech.  He found him completely trustworthy and a valued companion.  But on the flip side he doesn't care if he ever sees the duplicitous Broskow again.

As for Darran, he had made it a point to visit him and give him a little of the funds he got from the trip.  Rolf is keen on observing a tithe of ten percent and he could think of none better to give it to than his former leader.  With his missing leg his ability to earn money is certainly going to be reduced.  It was the least the mage could do.  Sure, Darran made a show to refuse, but after much coaxing he did accept.  They say pride goeth before a fall, but in Darran's case this was not true.  The man surely faces many falls in the future, but he is a tough minded sort and Rolf is sure he will keep picking himself back up.

Presently he finds himself wrestling with a tome on planar magic, physics and energy.  But the going is long as the author is extremely long winded and refuses to get to the point.  He sighs and closes the book, desperate for a break.

He sits rubbing his temples and opens his eyes to the grating sound of Sadim's voice.  What does he want now? he thinks as he turns and wipes the irritation from his face.  No matter how much the man gets on his nerves, he is determined not to show any emotion.

He is surprised though to see a somewhat short woman who looks to be at least a little upset has come to greet him.

"What sort of trouble has Mr. Gasteyer gotten himself into?  And how can I be of help?" he asks Alma in the softest calmest voice he can muster  Seeking to soothe her jangled nerves.  Pointedly he avoids Sadim's gaze and focuses directly on Alma to allow her a chance to speak.