It occurs to him that perhaps he should come back later with a shovel (even if the journey here takes time), but one can hope that there is a 'later'. Perhaps...the Shopkeeper could help him? Even so, glimpses of the claw and the medallion (and knowledge of them) satisfies the Feline...for now, at least.
Especially the latter. He's far from being an archaeologist, but it intrigues him, nevertheless. Maybe, even if he couldn't get anything substantial, he still tries to push aside some of the dirt a bit, in order to perhaps catch a little glimpse of the inscription or writing on the gold medallion — if there is one.
Then, fingers caked with dirt (before he eventually progresses to the edge of the lake), he ponders if he should leave an offering for the spirit of the dragon, even if it still seems to be asleep. He didn't have anything with him that resembles the gold medallion or, honestly, anything particularly of value aside from maybe his knives (although obviously he won't part with any of them), but he tries to cast his gaze around the graveyard of bones. Perhaps there is something that he could use as an offering — something that was borderline adequate and shall not incite a dragon's wrath? Or at least a clue as to where to find one nearby...?
dammit he's not Ægirian A furrow then creases Phantom's eyebrows when he heard the deep, guttural ramble later on, one that comes from the powerful spirit of the lake. The fact that it sounded more bestial than human was something that he'd expected, although...well, he hadn't expected himself to understand It, the moment its speech reached his mind. As he had suspected, there was a mechanism of language translation of sorts, apparently not only in the network.
But putting that aside...even the VOICE in his mind was keenly listening; Phantom, too, was hushed into something of an awed silence at the guardian's response. He fell quiet for a moment, before he gave the Guardian a slight bow, and answered: "I have, unfortunately, not been touched by the knowledge of your name. Would you enlighten me, o great one, Keeper of the Lake?" Please give him your name so he can honour you properly.
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Especially the latter. He's far from being an archaeologist, but it intrigues him, nevertheless. Maybe, even if he couldn't get anything substantial, he still tries to push aside some of the dirt a bit, in order to perhaps catch a little glimpse of the inscription or writing on the gold medallion — if there is one.
Then, fingers caked with dirt (before he eventually progresses to the edge of the lake), he ponders if he should leave an offering for the spirit of the dragon, even if it still seems to be asleep. He didn't have anything with him that resembles the gold medallion or, honestly, anything particularly of value aside from maybe his knives (although obviously he won't part with any of them), but he tries to cast his gaze around the graveyard of bones. Perhaps there is something that he could use as an offering — something that was borderline adequate
and shall not incite a dragon's wrath? Or at least a clue as to where to find one nearby...?dammit he's not ÆgirianA furrow then creases Phantom's eyebrows when he heard the deep, guttural ramble later on, one that comes from the powerful spirit of the lake. The fact that it sounded more bestial than human was something that he'd expected, although...well, he hadn't expected himself to understand It, the moment its speech reached his mind. As he had suspected, there was a mechanism of language translation of sorts, apparently not only in the network.But putting that aside...even the VOICE in his mind was keenly listening; Phantom, too, was hushed into something of an awed silence at the guardian's response. He fell quiet for a moment, before he gave the Guardian a slight bow, and answered: "I have, unfortunately, not been touched by the knowledge of your name. Would you enlighten me, o great one, Keeper of the Lake?"
Please give him your name so he can honour you properly.