MT: The Gathering

[Gainsdalf the Whey]

[Terinatum]

Yllaora cocks her head to the side at Fig's response. "Four decades? Did you not get quite bored floating on the water for so long? Although I admit, I would probably be happy if I was flying for four decades..."

 

Homesickness hits hard and the bitter taste of isolation ruins her meal for a moment. 'I don't understand, Ptah, why did the Eagles not choose me? I flew well, I faught very well, better than most my age. What did I do to deserve being let go?' She knew she could mutter over this for four decades and get no closer to an answer. The ritual was never explained. You were chosen or you weren't.

 

The savory smells of dinner rise to remind Yllaora of her hunger. Reestablishing her desire for food is easy enough. 'Has food here always been such a lavish affair?' "These big villages and cities are still amazing to me. So much food."

 

She remembers the architecture and all the carved stone when she came into town having the same level of lavishness. It was all incredible. 'Even Ulfden had liked it.' "How is our friend, Ulfden? Has he been cared for? I know he wanted time to commune with his God. Something about the battle. I think he is a cleric to the God... Ock, Kord, Sord. I don't recall the name exactly."

 

Yllaora's curiosity about Melinda still abounds and she watches her with intent. She cannot understand, Melinda looked like no one she knew before. She is different, foreign to her, but so... striking.

[Gainsdalf the Whey]

Fig shakes his head and begins speaking through a mouth full of half chewed beans. "Ah nah, I loved tha sea. It's why I took tha job in tha first place. Sure tha food wasn't great, but the wide open seas'r so much different that the confines o' the forests I grew up in. Gettin' ta see all different places and such was also a pretty perk o' the job." he spears another few potatoes onto his plate as he continues. "How abouts you? Where have you spent your time?"

[JonDixonYT]

Grubar feels himself tense up at the voice of the soldier.  He knows that they stand no chance against this group of armed guards - but there is no way that he will stand around and let Yllaora die at the hand of this dog.  Perhaps he could trip him and get a hold of a dagger or something...but then those thoughts disappear as he hears the Captain.  What is going on here? he wonders to himself.  These humans are worse than the guilds back home with their eternal internal conflicts he thinks to himself.  

 

He remains quiet as the Captain orders the Lieutenant around.  He nods slightly in appreciation at the mention of the ale, despite his mouth immediately filling with saliva at the thought.  Even if this is a ruse, perhaps I can get some crisp ale from it, he thinks to himself.

 

Grubar follows the Captain into his quarters, doing his best to curse internally and not show his complete exhaustion with the climb up the stairs.  Where is this big oaf taking us now...? he wonders to himself, doing anything and everything to keep his mind off the pain and exhaustion in his body.  Ale, only twelve more steps to a mug of ale.  Only eleven more steps to a mug of ale, he counts down in his head with each step.  He stands at the entrance to the room, taking in the luxurious surroundings.  He is not entirely impressed, as it is well known that only inferior craftsmen work in wood.  If its not stone, its not worth the time, Grubar thinks to himself as he composes himself.

 

He smells the roast and wine but his eyes seek out the ale.  He sees none and resigns himself to a drinkless meal.  Another lie.  No self respecting dwarf would be caught drinking wine.  Wine is for elves and drunkards.  Just as he comes to terms with it, the Lieutenant enters with the cask.  His eyes light up and his mouth waters anew.  He feels the eyes of the man on him and meets them, a wide smile spreading across his face.  Its hard to see much of it, besides the lifting of the corners of his moustache and twinkle in his eye.  "There's a good lad, I hope you've some dward sized tankards to match that cask," he says, followed by a deep chuckle.  He hears the Captain speaking but doesn't hear much of it as he finds a good sized vessel and begins to fill it, being sure that the Lieutenant sees him before he leaves.  He takes a large pull from his cup, a deep groan escaping from him as the cool ale hits his mouth.  He lowers the cup and opens his eyes, looking to the Captain.  "You've no idea how much better I feel..." he says, a layer of foam evident in his moustache that disappears behind the rim of the cup as he lifts and drains it.  He puts it down and gathers his supplies, ensuring that he fills his skin and then the cup once again.

 

As the food arrives he digs in, eating roast and biscuits and draining several cups of ale.  He has a cup of water between each cup of ale to keep his wits about him, in case this is another trick.

 

He bushy eyebrows raise towards Ylaorra as she asks about the ale.  "It's quite good.  Of course, it can't hold a candle to the ale back home, but it will surely do, considering how the rest of this day has gone."

 

He listens to Fig describe his love of the sea.  "Aye, 40 years isn't a terribly long time, but I wouldn't like to spend 40 minutes on a ship.  Much too far away from the rock below me to feel good about anything.  Not a surprise though, to hear of an elf off wasting time galavanting about, as such."

 

He looks to Yllaora to hear her background.  The less he has to get into his past, the better.

[Terinatum]

"Me?" Someone is interested in me?

"I grew up on the tips of the Southern Proximus Mountains. Ya know, where people think there's no way to survive! I was part of the Dusk Walkers Tribe. We…They rule the cliff sides. The tribal wars come and go as each year turns." Yllaora starts to smile.

 

"But the best, besides flying on an Eagle. It's sitting on a warm boulder, watching the sky turn darker." She closes her eyes a bit and remembers. "The sunsets are beyond description. I could easily sit for hours watching the colors change as RA's sun goes down. The air and the boulder lose their warmth at the same time.

 

The falcons fly closer to the mountains in the evening. They love the rats. We love to toss rats to them. I hate rats. The giant eagles are uninterested in rats, way too small of course, but they play this game that is kinda strange but fascinating. They fly quick and hard and slam the cliff sides to get a slab to fall. Those slabs are huge, and the sound and the vibration are incredible.

You can never really tell what they are thinking when not in battle. I trained on them for awhile and also with the falcons, but I was usually put in the ground band. I'm pretty good at strategy." Her pride sinks into a frown.

 

"But they never put me as a leader really. I was the only Half-Elf around. They never really accepted my father. He is a trader. My mom had two other children with a tribal man so…" Okay, Yllaora, shut up!

 

"Anyhow, how about you two? Grubar? Venethe?"

[Gainsdalf the Whey]

Fig smirks at the dwarf's comment. Taking his wine away from his lips and setting the cup down on the table, he replies jovially "Much better tah be galavantin' thatn spendin' all m'time in a musty hole in tha ground."

 

He pushes his plate away, taking a break, as he listen's to Ylloara's background. He nods along, listening. Flight, that sounds superb! I'll have to make it a point to find out where this tribe is and see if I can manage to convince them to have my skybound. The wonder!

 

The elf had the "wanderlust" as they called it back home, that insatiable urge to see and experience anything and everything one could. It was common among his people as well as the halflings, but his kind was the luckier as their lives spanned moer than a handful of centuries rather than decades and they had more time to fulfil those desires and more time to spend on each one. It was not uncommon for an elf to live their long lives in many smaller chunks, living with a group of shorter lived races and making a life with them, only moving on when their friends' lives had come to their completions. He had lived his 40 years at sea and at least part of his current "galavanting" was about finding a group of people that he could form such a bond with.

 

This half-elf Ylloara might be one. She was obviosuly searching for something and had an yearning within, something unffulfilled from her days at what sounded like her former tribe. Was it this urge to soar through the skies that he suddenly felt at her storytelling? Was she capable of such, or was it simply that she was no good there so they placed her elsewhere. Surely a culture based around skybound warfare such as her's would know best in such situations. That or they discriminated against her due to her half-blood. That was not rare in the slightest.

[JonDixonYT]

"A musty hole in the ground?!"  The incredulity is evident on Grubar's face.  He stands up from the table, the ale tankard in his hand and begins pacing.  "The ingenuity of dwarves has persevered over the problem of air circulation underground, and that is why no dwarf settlements are 'musty holes in the ground.'  40 years is just long enough to become competent at something.  You have yourself a trade.  Its a silly one, on a silly little boat, but a trade nonetheless."  Grubar stops his pacing and looks to Fig, thinking of his own apprenticeship, ended just as he had finished.  Just as he was learning to fashion useful and beautiful things from the stone all around him, he was forced to leave.  He clamps his mouth shut and returns to his seat.  "I'll never understand elves and their ceaseless wandering.  Find something to do and do it well."  he grumbles to himself as he returns to his seat.

 

To have a hearth and a home, that would be just about perfect right now.  No silly human drama, no silly elves and their pointless wandering, just a warm home, a wife, family all around...that is all that Grubar could ask for right now.  His family flashes into his mind and he wonders what's happened to them since he left.  He lifts the tankard to his lips and takes a pull, sighing as he lowers it back to the table.

 

He turns his head to Yllaora.  His brain reaches back to what she had said.  Flying.  If ever there was something that people were not meant to do, that was it.  "Flying?  Like on the back of a bird?  Oy, lass, best thank whatever god you pray to that you aren't still doing that.  Those beasts are unpredictable."  Grubar shudders at the thought.  "People shouldn't even be on those insufferable beasts we rode here, let alone a giant bird with killer talons and beak."  He slowly lifts the tankard to his mouth again taking a small sip.

 

"I come from the hills north of here, just at the feet of the mountains.  I'm a stonemason by trade, although in truth I've only spent four years plus my apprenticeship, so not even quite a journeyman yet.  But its good work, creating something from the earth around you."  He eyes move to Fig again briefly then back to Yllaora.  "I've also spent some time with our war party, wandering the surface, looking for orcs and goblins.  Vile creatures, those.  I've never seen an eagle big enough for me to ride, let alone you."  Grubar purposefully leaves out any mention of gems, not yet ready to divulge that part of his history.

 

He slowly tears a chunk of roast of and pops it into his mouth, deep in thought.  This is not a great start to finding the riches he needs to return his family to their former status.  Having said that, there is no way he can walk away from this group of people, not after what they've been through together to date.  Not after Yllaora cared for him.  Not until he had taught that scoundrel the joy of a hard day's work.  Well, that may never happen.

[Terinatum]

Yllaora watches and listens. They’ve been at each other in this semi-amiable banter since she can recall. Not last night, that is still a blur. However, she thinks she recalls them having fun together. Was that even possible? Venethe was off in space and unreachable. She wasn’t sure what got the Gnome involved with the town. But he sure defended them willingly enough. A strong and silent one. Her sister used to like those types of men – Yllaora’s stomach flips yet again, and her sister’s beautiful face comes to mind, haunting her even in daytime. “Ptah, please.” She whispers. Enough of daydreaming, it leads to nowhere good. She looks to the two bantering.

“Grubar. You know Fig is a gentler man than a Dwarf. What cause is there to beat the point to a blunted nub?” She smiled at her witty words, unsure whether Grubar ever used hammers and nails. The Gnomes were certainly tinkers, the ones her father introduced her to.  So, probably. There’s so much I don’t have any idea about. I have to do something about that.

 â€œFlying is divine. Our Eagles are huge; they carry one or two warriors depending on the mission. Each warrior has their weapons, meager armor, and gear to camp in the mountains and defend borders as needed. The story goes that they came from the West beyond the mountains, but no one really knows. They came to us when we needed allies against our sick-minded neighbors. A pact was made to respect each other’s boundaries and hunting grounds and that was that. You wouldn’t likely see them anywhere else.”

“Fig? What kind of maaagic do you do? That is to say, more clearly, what is it? I mean do you mumble and fly your hands around? It’s the only thing I’ve ever heard about your lot. Clerics are what I know more about.” She nibbles on a bone that barely has any meat left on it and listens intently. It was hard to ask, but if she was going to run with these people, then she should have some idea as to what to expect.

[Rathrune]

[Gainsdalf the Whey]

Fig leans back in his chair as the Dwarf starts pacing and giving his litany on the ventilation properties of his holes. He keeps his cup up by his mouth to hide his smirk, then turns to Ylloara as she expands on her Eagle riding. It is then that he goes and asks his question of the captain and the captain leaves. Once he is gone and Melinda is going about setting out bedding, he turns to Ylloara once more.

"I personally think your flying sounds divine. If we ever have a chance to pass close to your home again, I believe I would like to do what I could to earn a right to partake in the experience. As for my magic..." he pauses to consider the best way to explain the wonderfully complicated world of the mystic and arcane to one who had no clue of its depths. "There is an entire other world that is invisible to the eye and learning to interact and draw from it requires exquisite amounts of research and calculations. It requires exact movements of the hands, wording and pronunciation of lost tongues, and sometimes rare and strange materials to weave a spell. It is the minute and specific ways all of these interact that draw upon the power of the weave."

He pauses to wet his tongue and notices Melinda glancing at him again, which draws an almost imperceptible smirk. He shifts his eye contact to Grubar as he continues, "Really, the best way to explain the arcane is to equate the weaving of magic to any other craft. The blacksmith knows how to refine his ore, remove impurities, add trace amounts of other elements, and how to heat, cool, bend, and hammer his materials in many different combinations to craft many different items and components. If any small thing goes wrong with any of this, the product is ruined. The trick with magic is that all of these functions and variables are not visible to the naked eye. One does not see the progress of the product as the crafting goes along, only the finished component once all is complete. Because of this, knowing how each little aspect, each word, each movement affects the outcome is much more difficult."

Taking another sip, he moves his eye contact back to Ylloara, "This is actually where my specialized magic is rooted, making minute changes to one thing during each casting and seeing how it affects the end spell. Sometimes it becomes more powerful, sometimes more weak, such as would happen to a blade should you randomly add or take out a bit more or less of some element. But sometimes, even the smallest change in the "recipe" as you would can make a completely unexpected and different effect. These rarer happenings are what are so exciting and sometimes dangerous, leading some to call my path of magic "wild". But I've gone on, chewing your ear off. All of you seem very tired." he says laughing a bit, pointing to the gnome.

Standing up, he stretches and picks up his pack from next to the sofa he had been lying on. Turning to the others, he gives a small bow. "I bid you all a good night's rest. I expect that today's events may lead to the opportunity for some exciting times for us all, and maybe a little bit of "gallivanting" that even you might enjoy Grubar. I look forward to seeing you when you wake."

And with that, he turns and walks casually through the same door Melinda left through, with the sort of confidence one would have if he was going to his own bed and had been going there every night for years.

[Terinatum]

Yllaora listens to Fig explain magic, boiled down to its most basic rudiments. However strange to make something when you cannot see how the process is going. Sort of like fighting in the dark or night flying she supposed, though more intricate, maybe even more dangerous. She watches Fig stride through the door after his bow to the group and wonders if he will meet up with Melinda or if it that was just her imagination. Fig's delicate features will surely win him some favors with Melinda.

"Grubar, you take the bed, no arguments. Venethe, gather some blankets and camp near the main door. I will take my place here and be in position to cover the back quarter of the room if need be. I doubt it will be necessary, but I do not like surprises and I've had plenty for one day!" She sighs heavily. "Good Night." Yllaora shuffles some blankets into a nest and curls up with her sword in easy reach and a tankard of ale, some meat, potatoes and veggies nearby, in case she wakes up hungry. She tries to mumble good night again, but her eyes are behind her brain in regards to being asleep. Her eyes droop closed and she sleeps soundly.

[Rathrune]

[JonDixonYT]

Grubar raises from bed at the rustling around of the room.  He feels better than the day before, although that isn't saying much.  He climbs out of the bed and puts his armour on.  It seemed like forever ago, but yesterday putting on his armour had saved his life.
 
He nods to the gnome as he sits and begins to eat a hearty breakfast, while listening to the Captain.
 
Remember when the horses and the warriors were turned into frogs.  Yesterday, Venethe had said that to him just after he awoke.  He had meant to talk to Fig about it, but had forgotten last night.  As he is mulling those words over, the vision that he had had at the game came back to him.  Drunken silliness with Fig and Yllaora....and Fig doing some sort of magic trick.  He furrows his brow in thought, pushing the thoughts aside for the time being as he listens to the Captain implore the group for help.  He finishes the plate of food as the Captain finishes speaking. "Aye, I'll do what I can.  I would most like to be back in the hills, away from this kingdom and its troubles, but since I'm here and you've helped me, the least I can do is return the favour.  It would be best if we could visit with a healer before we depart though, I feel much better this morn, but I'l still not at my best.  Do you know where I could find one, Captain?"
 
Another Elf in the group?  Grubar scowls to himself.  More silliness, no doubt.  Probably another pirate.  I wonder if this one will be dressed up in green tights and have a wooden sword.  Silly elves refusing to grow up...  This train of thought stops as Grubar looks to Fig.  What memories do you have of the night before last?  Our sturdy gnome here asked me a question yesterday, something I said: remember when the horses and the warriors were turned into frogs.  Yesterday, as we arrived at the gates, I had a memory of us drinking the night before last, and you mentioned something about a magic trick.  Surely, these things must be related?  No one had ever accused Grubar of being incredibly intelligent, and it is obvious that he is just now coming to this conclusion.

---

HP:5 AC:5

[Terinatum]

 

[Gainsdalf the Whey]

Having eaten so much the night before, Fig is not hungry and stays in his place cross legged on the couch for the duration of the morning, studying his spell book and muttering to himself. He seems to be trying to work some logic problem out by the inflections in his tone. He doesn't seem too jittery. Afterall, he spent decades on a ship at sea, he had to figure out ways to occupy himself.

When the Captain walks in and greets them, Fig nods a greeting and begins to go back to his spell book, then realizes the Captain is still speaking. He listens intently to the man's plea for help, nodding along and understanding well. When he finishes and the others agree to provide their skills, Ylloara even taking the lead, Fig decides that despite the possible danger of the mission to help a city that had not been very kind to him, that he's be willing to go, for a price.

"I be willin' to offer me help Captain, but yer generosity over tha past few hours 'as not been near enough tah be earnin' it, especially considerin' what mah coming across yer city and yer problems has cost me thus far. I do like yah however an' truss yah tah a degree. So, I will aid tha others 'n this task fer tha price of access to a spellbook containin' at least two spells, provided before we be settin' out. Mah travels have not yet led me tah any spells offensive 'n nature, so I would be much more useful on this mission should one of them be such a spell. The spellbook will of course be returned upon our success and next meetin', provided I have been able to unlock it's secrets."

(OOC: Gotta run before I finished the post, will address Grubar later.)

[Gainsdalf the Whey]

As the Captain thinks over his offer, the elf turns his attention to Grubar and shrugs, "I don't remember anythin' of tha sort, though anything is possible when I drink 'n excess, which is why I don't be doin' it often. If I get it 'n me head to start pokin' holes in tha weave all willy nilly jus' to see what be happenin', well, tha can get pretty iffy."

[DragonKa-Tet]

[JonDixonYT]

Grubar grunts to himself, his brow furrowing.  "Perhaps if you spent more time learning about this so-called 'weave' and less time pirating around the ocean we wouldn't be in this mess to begin with," he says.  "Leave it to an elf to dabble in things he doesn't understand.  But, what's done is done and I suppose there's nothing left to do besides go and dispose of these poisons.  Captain, have you any supplies that could help us along the way?  Perhaps some healing potions or, even better, some antidotes to these poisons?"  

 

Finishing his meal, Grubar stands and checks his skin to make sure that its full of ale before they set out again while gathering the rest of his supplies.

[Rathrune]

[Gainsdalf the Whey]

 

 

Fig listens to Captain Trellex's counter offer and nods along his understanding, the expression on his face clear that he is still only considering the offer

.

The man be either genuinely at a loss as tah how tah be providin’ tha payment tha’ I have requested or is jus’ playin’ dumb in order to get us out to Lover's Crossin’… Fig thinks. Fig still doesn't trust him much and is not positive yesterday's events were not coordinated by Trellex himself, in which case this could be another trap of some sort. Still, it would get him out of the city and provide a chance to explore a bit more of the land that he had for so long been gone from, and the chance to meet another dabbler in the arcane is intriguing.

 

He is still thinking on the offer when Melinda approaches him on their way downstairs. He is startled from his thoughts and processes the question quickly. "Oh yes, I been quite satiated during me stay." he says with his best attempt at a charming smile. "Though me appetite do be tendin' to grow quickly and I be lookin' forward tah me next visit. Tha fare was exquisite."

 

With a wink, he follows the rest downstairs and is clearly surprised to see another elf kin, and a wood elf at that. At his introduction, Fig provides a slight bow. “It be nice tah be seein’ another fae will be along. Tryin’ tah be talkin’ sense into Grubar ‘ere has been exhaustin’ for just meself.”

 

After Trellex bids them farewell with directions, Fig turns to him and speaks plainly. “I will be goin’ along as far as Lover’s Crossin’. Whether I be helpin’ be dependin’ on this Ganrin fellow and if he can be makin’ it worth me risk.”

 

With that he turns and heads for the horses, eager to be out of this damned city.

[Terinatum]

                                       

[DragonKa-Tet]

[Rathrune]

[JonDixonYT]

Grubar stares at the woman.  The elfish woman.  Who in all the deep taught this elf dwarven?  He thought to himself.  Perhaps she is trustworthy, if some dwarf thought her trustworthy enough to teach her our tongue...he continues to stare at her as his mind churns through these thoughts.  Then he catches himself, "Oh, uh, Huglgla to you as well," he replies.  "If its alright with you, I'd like to stick to common, unless its to make fun of the charlatan," his eyes move to Fig after a quick wink in Calista's direction.  His eyes move back to her, "are you a healer?  I've still not fully recovered from yesterday's ordeal.  Perhaps if we get a chance you can have a look and see if you can mend me up a bit more.  The better shape I'm in, the more help I'll be should we stumble across some trouble..."

 

Grubar stands and looks at the pony.  He is absolutely dreading getting onto another animal.  He's not so wounded that he will be able to blame his lack of riding skills on not being able to carry himself.  He takes a small step towards the pony, squinting at it and talks to it softly. "Alright...there....boy...now, we're just going to have to get through this together.  I don't want to ride you, but since I can't keep up to these other beasts, I guess we just don't have a choice.  Now...just..." he reaches for a bit of feed, taking the giant's advice and slowly holding his hand out to the horse.  The horse's coarse tongue tickles his hand and he inadvertently lets out a giggle.  An extremely rare dwarf giggle.  He turns immidiately, his face crimson under his thick beard, to see if anyone had noticed.  Harumph, he grumbles, turning back to the horse.  As he turns, he's gotten close to the horse and he feels the coarse, warm, wet tongue on his face.  Ho! he shouts, stumbling backwards, stepping into a bucket and falling down backwards, making an awful racket .  There is no way that went unnoticed.  He gets up, picking straw from his hair and beard.  How in the blazes did he get any in his beard?!?  He grabs some more feed, determined to master this beast.  If that pirate can ride these things, there is no way that Grubar will fail.  He makes sure to stand as far as possible from the horse's mouth, holding out his hand full of feed.  "Fool me once, shame on you, you bugger..." he mumbles to the pony...

---

HP:5/13 AC:5

[Terinatum]