MT: The Gathering

[Rathrune]

[Terinatum]

[Gainsdalf the Whey]

[JonDixonYT]

[Drewstein69]

[Rathrune]

[Rathrune]

[Gainsdalf the Whey]

[JonDixonYT]

[Terinatum]

[Gainsdalf the Whey]

[Drewstein69]

[Rathrune]

[Terinatum]

 

[Gainsdalf the Whey]

Fig settled back against the bars of his cell as the old woman approached, trying to relax the muscles of his jaw as much as possible to reduce the pain that muscle fatigue from being gagged in such a way was slowly bringing on and worsening. It was hard to concentrate on her words with the pain, but he does his best to absorb them.

 

The oldest were the wisest in any culture, and though he himself was probably as old or older than this woman, humans had a way of gaining a wisdom that elves didn't in such a short time. They didn't take joy in the nature around them or take time away from learning to enjoy the simple things. Human's lives were so short, their singular focus was on learning and achieving as much as they could in their short spans. The result was this woman, old and haggard but very wise by the time she reached a century, but run down and not having enjoyed the splendors the world had to offer like the elven longevity afforded. He had spent decades as a sailor on a whim, as a hobby, to enjoy the salty spray of the world's oceans, for 20 years in his life was but a blink and he would have another score of such timeframes before he moved on from this world. But to this woman, 20 years was enough for an entire new generation of her race to mature.

 

If she was right, and this darkness was coming, they would all have to fight it. Such times came and went, and they were always the hardest. But such times were how one earned the ease and comfort of the easier ones. To Fig, it was a simple waxing and waning, a cycle, that happened over and over again. He was not worried, they would fight it off like the others before. But to the shorter lived races, this could well be a catacysm. For due to their short life spans, most of their lives could be absorbed by this period of darkness. Their fight was for the future of their brethren only, for the primes of their lives would likely be completely consumed by such a struggle that the woman spoke of. It was a shame, having to fight for such a future that they would never see or if they did, never be able to fully enjoy. It was such a selfless act, and one of the beauties of the lesser races than the elven had come to appreciate. It inspired the long lived, as it inspired him now to fight alongside his new acquaintances, and to do that Fig would have to reign his magic in and understand the wild weave and control it. No, not control it, temper it. Part of the wild weave was letting it run it's course, bending and snipping the threads into something new and wild to gain greater effect. But one could not go to far, for that could spell disaster.

 

All these thought spassed through his head in the moments the woman spoke, and the elf made up his mind that he would fight this coming darkness. With that decision, it was time to figure out what was going on. Why had they been imprisoned when all they had tried to do was bring word that an invasion was coming? Was there a cue, had the barbarians gotten someone on the inside? Did the king want an invasion for some reason? The group would have to talk it out and figure out a path forward. He'd have to mediate such a conversation if he could ever get rid of this gag.

[Rathrune]

 

[Terinatum]

[Gainsdalf the Whey]

[JonDixonYT]

Grubar’s eyes open as the warm vomit hit him.  He is so exhausted, so entirely out of energy that he jut laid there, covered in the bile.  He turns his head, taking in the cell.  “And here, I thought this was just a dream, that ol’ Garlet had drank too much again...†he mutters to himself.  

He’s done trying and failing to get up off his back.  He lays, trying to find one of his companions in the cell.  “What’s going on?†he asks.  What had happened while he was out?  They reported to the captain, then he was down getting that massage...that fabulous, glorious massage...then shackles...then those bastards had his ale.  Grubar feels the rage welling inside him at the thought of those barbarians wasting his ale.  Just then he is overcome by a coughing fit, ending the infuriating train of thought.

Finally, after the coughing subsided Grubar manages to raise his head and take in the scene around him.  He sees the gore covered chipmunk on Ylaorra’s shoulder and raises his bushy eyebrows.  “I see your friend has been busy.  I told you it was a beast.† He lowers his head back down with a sigh.  “I need more rest...just for a minute.  What has happened since...I started resting?†he asked the room, unwilling to admit that he had passed out from the day’s worth of pain and exhaustion.

 

HP   AC
2      5
 

[Rathrune]

[Gainsdalf the Whey]

[JonDixonYT]

[Terinatum]

   

    

   

[Rathrune]

[Terinatum]