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Author Topic: Respite in the Vale  (Read 51405 times)
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Talas Anthavin
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« Reply #135 on: November 26, 2007, 01:40:57 AM »

Harrek arrives at the council chamber with Kenrill and his 'guards' in tow via a smaller passageway than the one Brenna has led the group through.  He can see the council members standing outside, as well as the two humans, the elf, a brownie and Brenna.

He sits in a large chair that has been carved out of the rock at the center of a slightly raised dias, and looks at his guards.  "Please escort Master Kenrill's companions into the chamber.  They are led by the older human named Capher.  Have the council take their seats."

Without question, the two warriors walk out the archway.

The Gornegron then looks at Kenrill, and motions to the front row of a series of semicircular stone benches that face the dias on which he know sits.  "Please take a seat here - your friends will join you shortly."

***

When the two warriors walk through the archway, one of them directs the council into the chamber, while the second stands before Capher.  He nods briefly, and in surprisingly good Tharian says in a deep, gravelly voice, "greetings, visitors of the Tenthrum.  The Gornegron asks that you join him in counsel.  He is curious of your purpose - beyond retrieving the hobbit," he adds, having been the one guard who spent the most time with Kenrill.
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Capher
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« Reply #136 on: November 27, 2007, 05:23:49 AM »

Capher waited expectantly to be led into the council chambers.  He saw other dwarf's, not guards, but differently dressed of various sizes and sex enter the council chamber and enter in. Then a guard came and invited him and his companions inside.

"greetings, visitors of the Tenthrum.  The Gornegron asks that you join him in counsel.  He is curious of your purpose - beyond retrieving the hobbit."

Capher eyed the guard suspiciously. What did he mean? Beyond retrieving the hobbit? That is our only purpose. Capher thought as he followed the guard into the council chamber.

He did not know what Morcaanan or Teri had been thinking when they went through those massive doors, past the time clock and now into the council chambers, but he was thinking of how inventive the dwarves had become since he had last saw them. It seemed to Capher that they went from plain pick axes and hard labor to using their minds to bend, shape, mold and use what their father and god, Utrengor, had given them to better themselves and their clans.  He wondered if all the clans had been passed these technological advances?

The council chamber was a large domed granite rock chamber with benches of stone set in a semi-circular pattern centered around a large granite seat built into the mountain itself upon which sat a massive looking dwarf who watched the group silently under his thick bushy brows as they filed in.

Capher saw Ken and then he and the rest were escorted to where Ken sat and were asked to seat themselves. Ken, as usual, saw them and right in the middle of one rant he started another; this one concerning Capher, Teri, and Morcaanan.  He seemed to be saying he was glad to see them, but there were other bits and pieces of information all twisted inside.  Capher had come to realize that Ken digested a lot of information, however it came out in bits and pieces and unless you listened carefully you may miss a key bit of information or clue that could ultimately either save your life or in the very least tell you where he was, what he saw and where you might want to go.

The rest of the council filed in and Capher listening with one ear to Ken scanned the council for the Denirim of the Clan. The Gornegron was the clan leader but the Denirim was their spiritual one, their wise one and suddenly it hit Capher. The Denirim either knew or had guessed what their journey was all about. It would be from her or him that information concerning Kurik's Anvil could possibly be gleaned.  Why did it take him so long to figure it out? 

That troubled Capher as he watied to be spoken to.
« Last Edit: November 28, 2007, 12:29:24 AM by Capher » Logged
Tulpje Sweetshade
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« Reply #137 on: November 28, 2007, 02:29:38 AM »

Tulpje watched the proceedings with interest, from her vantage point of Capher's shoulder. She'd talked with dwarves before, but brownies were not generally invited so deep into the cave, and certainly not with so much members of the council there. She didn't have the courage to speak, though, so she said nothing to Capher. In any case, he was the only one she could have said something to, 'Teri and Morc being too far away to let her voice be heard by them. Sometimes she wished she could be their height, just for the advantages they seemed to have. But then, being small had its good sides too, so she probably shouldn't be too eager to trade places. Not that there was much chance of that happening...
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Tulpje Sweetshade
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« Reply #138 on: November 28, 2007, 02:11:23 PM »

Kenriil sees Capher coming in, and his chatter slows, stops for a moment as Capher sits beside him, then continues as he counts those with him. Then, a little more slowly, he counts them again. The third time, his words are distinct, precise, and spoken with a little more volume than normal. "Capher, Morcaanan, Aueniteri."

Kenriil is silent, his chatter stopped entirely as he stands, looks about for a moment, as if he has missed something, which he knows is not likely, and then stands before Capher, his face twisting slightly in anger, his fists clenched tightly at his sides.

"Capher! You did exactly what I told you to not do! You left Talia and Terra! They should be here! It isn't right to seperate, not right now! You have no idea what that... that elf-guy is planning! He nearly killed 'Teri, are you trying to give him Talia and Terra as well?! Do you have any idea what this guy could do? If you were ambushed by a band of orcs, you'd be hopeless! They'd kill you all, even before the Tenthrum could get there! And even if the dwarves were there, you know what they'd do?! They'd wait for you to be dead, then kill off the rest of the orcs. The orcs are brave, sincere and strong, but they're stupid!"

Ken bites his lip for a while as his body starts to tremble. He's losing his focus, he realizes, and waits for that thought to pass, then the next, waiting for a thought dealing with the situation to return. After a bit more pause, he continues.

"And what about Talia, and Terra?! They're weak now! If he caught them in the Vale - if he was still there... you have no idea what you've gotten into! Why did you even come out here?! You'd better have a reason, and it better be good, because if the only reason you came is to get me, I swear I will bruise you good!"

Ken is silent, shaking slightly in rage. He waits, studying Capher's face, listening for an answer from Capher, who, for the most part, Ken has held the deepest of respect - the deepest respect he is capable of, anyway.
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Capher
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« Reply #139 on: November 29, 2007, 01:08:33 AM »

Capher was shocked when Ken actually spoke in coherent sentences and the accusing tone in his voice. Capher was about to speak when Ken accused him again. Finally he stopped talking and just glared at Capher.

"Ken, do you really think I would leave Talia and Terra if I did not think they were in good hands and if I had a good reason to leave them? I know that we have not had much time together so sometimes my ways and methods may seem a bit strange to you, but I promise you that Talia and Terra are perfectly fine and are going through thier healing process; besides Ta'las is there to watch over them as well as the brownies. Garek, and his friends will not bother them, if anything, they would come after Teri and as you can see Teri is safe.

Capher paused to let that information sink into Ken's brain before he continued.

"Orc's only come out at night and we had hoped to find you before nightfall and return back to the Vale's entrance but you surprised me my friend, you travel much faster than I had figured," He finished.

Capher was readying himself for another barrage from Ken because Ken was right, they had only come to search for him but when Capher realized where Ken was heading his plans had changed, but he did not know if he should tell Ken; after all Ken had unofficially left the group and perhaps he should not be privy to Capher's plans? On the other hand it seemed to Capher that Seyella wanted Ken to be in thier group and to be part of the journey; so he answered Ken before Ken, who was glaring at him and ready to 'bruise him good", could begin.

"Yes, at first Ken that was my intention. However, now that we are here I will tell you that I plan on asking the Gornegron and the Denirim about the whereabouts of Kurik;s Anvil. I am hoping that they know something about that artifact. So, please do not be angry, sit down and lets hear what the Gornegron and Denirm have to say," Capher said, giving Ken a warm smile and patting the seat next to him.

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Kenriil
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« Reply #140 on: November 29, 2007, 01:43:42 PM »

Ken thinks for a moment, as slowly his hands and face relax. Silently, he thinks about the exchange between himself and Capher, and a light smile briefly crosses his face, but he says nothing, and for the first time in the eight hours since Ken has arrived, the dwarves who had been granted the chance to speak with him stare in awe as he sits perfectly silent, composed, and possibly slightly amused, waiting.
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Talas Anthavin
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« Reply #141 on: December 01, 2007, 01:28:39 PM »

Harrek Ironarm nods to the council as they take their seats on the stone benches behind the visitors.  "Thank you all for attending us at this late hour," he says in Tharian, his deep voice rumbling in the council chamber.  "This meeting, though seemingly unplanned, is of great consequence, and much shall be learned from our short time with our guests."

The Gornegron then looks at each of member of the group in turn, his deep brown eyes piercing and unnerving.  "Some of you have travelled far toward your destination, and yet you still have far to go."  Seeing the uncertainty in their eyes, he adds with a nod in Kenrill's direction, "we have actually learned little of what you are doing from your companion.  The details of your journey will not leave the confines of this room, unless it is your doing.  And most of those details do not involve the Tenthrum." 

Harrek scans the group once more and then continues, looking at Capher this time.  "You are known to us as the Storyteller - you have been to these caverns before.  So it is recorded in our writings.  However, you are not as you once were."  He then looks to the elderly female dwarf, dressed in the robes of a dwarven cleric. 

The Denirim stands and begins to approach Capher, but stops when the Gornegron holds up a hand.

"Not yet," he orders the cleric, who begins to look uneasy.  Harrek looks back at Capher and leans forward, his powerful frame radiating an aura of strength.  His tone is not accusatory, but it is commanding.  "Our Denirim has told me much of you're previous visit - if that is indeed who you are.  Please stand, and address the council.  Who are you, and what is it that brings you here besides your companion?"
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Morcaanan
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« Reply #142 on: December 04, 2007, 01:09:29 AM »

What happened from the time they entered the tunnels passes mostly over the Korweynite's head: the significance that Capher plays in the legends and stories of other races has never fully come home to Morcaanan, not even amongst the elves. Perhaps because he is a foreigner; perhaps because he has been too wrapped up in himself and his own concerns to give it much thought.

But to see the obvious deference and awe (albeit questioning awe) the dwarves show Capher, it finally begins to sink in. This the third time a race of the world has stepped forward to show hospitality and respect to the old Wolf - and though he has not met dwarves often, Morcaanan knows that dwarves do not hand out such respect lightly.

After being seated in the council chamber, and with many of the pleasantries aside, his curiosity - and caution - is aroused. "Careful, Old Wolf" he mutters quietly to Capher, as soft as possible. "The less people who know what we need to do, the better." He resumed his seat, eying Ken with a slight bit of disdain for the ordeal they had been put through to find him.
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Tulpje Sweetshade
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« Reply #143 on: December 06, 2007, 12:07:51 AM »

Tulpje almost panicked when she realised that Capher was going to have to talk to a very large group of dwarves. Suddenly Capher's shoulder did not seem such a good place to be, even though moments before it had been a vantage point. Alright, so she didn't have to say anything - luckily, but still! However, Capher seemed to anticipate on this. He carefully took her in his hand and handed her over to Kenriil, who was closest by. With a quick look up to see if the hobbit didn't mind, the brownie settled on his knee to see what else would happen, happy that she would not be part of the center of attention.

********

Capher, after handing the small woman to his hobbit friend, straightened up. He flashed a smile at Morcaanan, trying to reassure him. He bowed once to the Gornegron to show his respect, then to the Denirim as well. Then he turned to the council. "I am indeed the one that your people know as the Storyteller. It has been a long time since last I was here. I need not tell you how time will change people, be they my race or yours. Your Sender, Torm, recognised me. 

There is an evil abroad. The less that is said about this evil, the better, but in order to stop it we will need Kurik's Anvil. Please, if you know where it is, help us. The evil must be stopped." He stopped speaking, wondering if maybe he had said too much. Would they know where the Anvil was? Would they help? He could only hope, for his master's sake more than for his own.
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Talas Anthavin
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« Reply #144 on: December 07, 2007, 12:35:35 PM »

Harrek watches the exchange between Capher and Kenrill and his respect for the Storyteller's patience increases.  The Storyteller's request for information on the Anvil of Kurik, however, surprises him in its bluntness.  His eyebrows knit together and the Gornegron scratches his beard as he thinks back on what he knows about the ancient artefact. 

Harrek’s thoughts are interrupted as one of the council members – a young dwarf stands and glowers at Capher.  “You are brought before this council in good faith, Storyteller, and all we ask you for is a glimpse of your intentions.  Instead you make demands – ”

“Enough, Jhorin!”  The Gornegron’s voice booms in the vaulted council chamber, as he glares at the council member until he sits back down again.   Then to Capher, “my apologies, Capher the Storyteller, for it is ever in our nature to be protective of our lore.  And, I must admit I am surprised by the shortness of your request – there are good reasons knowledge of such things is guarded and protected, as you must know and also respect.”  He gives Capher a long, knowing look.

“Fortunately, my Denirim has spoken highly of you and your past.  Our lore tells of your previous comings to the Halls of the Tenthrum, and you are held in high regard.  For that reason, in part, I will entrust this knowledge to you.  However, you speak of evil that must be stopped – and for that I am inclined to help you in your quest.”

The Gornegron then scans the group, speaking to them as a whole.  “What I require, is that each of you pledge to keep this knowledge to yourselves, and the others of your company.  Kenrill spoke of the two who seek healing from the brownies, Talia and Terra.”  He waits for the group to nod their assent, and then nods to his Denirim, who for some reason appears nervous and excited – an unusual combination for this normally stolid dwarf.

The Denirim stands and bows to Capher.  “Capher, Storyteller – as our Gornegron has said, we have writings of your previous visits to our home.  However, what he does not know, is that those writings contain a passage that speak of a future visit.”  She lets that stand a minute, and quickly gains the full attention of the council and the Gornegron, who leans forward, his eyes gleaming.  From within the folds of her clerical robes, she reveals a worn tome, its cover made of drell leather, the pages of which are sewn with natural fibers.  She opens to a page somewhere in the middle of the book, its leather cover makes a slight creak.  Her hands shake as she searches for the passage of interest. 

“Here it is,” she says and licks her lips.  “Before the Darkness breaks, the Storyteller will return to our hallowed halls to seek the aid of the Tenthrum.  He will seek only one thing, but in truth must learn of a second, as he will have forgotten much of his past.  The first, the Storyteller will have need of Kurik’s fabled Anvil – hidden away in the north.  The Tenthrum have no knowledge of the anvil, but do know of who keeps its secret.”

She looks up at Capher, almost despairing.  “I am sorry Capher, but you must travel to the Zirghurim Clan of dwarves.  The Zirkumire Mountains are far to the north on the peninsula of Cha'dómm in Xaramon.  The Denirim of the Zirghurim, Kolbron, has knowledge of the Anvil, but you must get there quickly.  Kolbron is older than I, and I fear ‘Pragorsthomm’, the Stone-Turning may nearly upon him.”  Then she looks back down at the book and furrows her eyebrows.  “I do not understand the second thing this book speaks of.  It says that you must first reclaim yourself in the ‘spring of Ximax’.”

“Do you know what this means?” she asks Capher.
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Aueniteri
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« Reply #145 on: December 07, 2007, 03:31:35 PM »

Aueniteri listens distantly to Ken, the dwarves - or maybe just one - and Capher's brief exchange. She notices Ken's silence, but not to the extent of the others. She sees Morcaanan's brief warning to Capher, Capher's vague acknowledgment, and hears, without really hearing, the exchange between Capher and the dwarves. Aueniteri's mind is transfixed on something not of this time, nor, exactly, of this reality.

Beside her sits Jeharaid Morcaanan, a rugged warrior the better part of a ped taller than her. A foreigner with a distant, troubling past - so different, yet in its own way, similar to her own. Though her eyes only steal sidelong glances, yet she is aware of nothing else, and proportion is distorted by something inside of her. Morcaanan is not the troubled, sleepless man lying with a fever in bed, muttering incomprehensible sentences, nor the wounded warrior limping through the Quallian - Morcaanan is huge. 'Teri is certain that if she leaned back, looking up as far as her eyes will possibly allow, she could not see his temples. Were she to reach for him, she feels certain by the time she touched him, her hand would be a tiny speck lost among the folds on his arm. His face is set, focused, and though she but glimpses it, her mind is occupied endlessly with the study of it, the impossible magnitude and exaggeration cast onto him by her imagination, and more.

Something is wrong; something in the air, but not... really in the air. She felt it in her mind. A feeling bends itself around her mind, and just a little, her body, telling her that somewhere, something is out of place. With study, the feeling first arrived the moment they neared the caverns of the Tenthrum, before Aueniteri even knew dwarves inhabited this area. For a moment, she applies to this the seeming coldness Morcaanan has exhibited since their initial entry, but logic negates that option, the most likely answer being that this is the Morcaanan known to everyone; the one who existed before they met, and the one who will exist ever afterward. The tension around her is pressed to the side as she looks again, briefly, at Morcaanan, and something explodes - in a slow, burning, ever-expanding blossom - inside her chest. Instinctively, she responds with a loose fist just below her throat, as if holding her heart gently.
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Warrior Kaelan
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« Reply #146 on: December 09, 2007, 09:07:47 AM »

"You are crazy," Kaelan grunted, as the little elf-man crouched down near the hole they'd been led to.

"I know; I'm called a madman regularly. But bear with me; this will work."

"And if it doesn't?", the warrior demanded roughly.

"Then we will make it work."

This Garrek is a new Garrek. The old Garrek was gone after this man awoke in Kaelan's camp, two days after his own campfire had exploded - for no apparent reason. It had made the warrior a little leery, but justified helping him. After all, whoever wanted to kill this kind of a fool with magic would have to be a power worth confronting. Fighting magic has long been a favorite fantasy of Kaelan's.

Garrek is short; Only a few nailsbreadths over one full ped. Thin - a malnourished thin, his body seeming to waste quickly in the two days since Kaelan found him. His nose seems a little more hooked, his eyes burning with an unholy fire, and his mind seething with the strangest emotions. His once brightly colorful clothes are scarred by the explosion, but he doesn't seem to care anymore.

Kaelan is the precise opposite of the elf-man. At only half a handspan below two peds, a thick barrel, stocky limbs and broad shoulders, the warrior is as fit as ever for battle with any of his sixteen weapons. His deep blue eyes are calm, regarding everything somewhat distantly, and when they entered the Tenthrum cavern through an escape route, somewhat warily.

The old dragon considers long and hard before answering. "Seyella understands our histories from last to first, and places in us the will to stand where she would have us. That I must heal at Ximax, I am aware; and will proceed to do so as soon as opportunity presents before... our enemy is confronted. Of course, the Anvil is of greatest importance..."

It begins with only her hand at her temple, but soon, Aueniteri's peaceful thoughts of Morcaanan are flooded out of her mind by a throbbing, dizzying headache. Her breath shortens, then constricts, and she even chokes briefly before leaning against Morcaanan and whispering the excuse, "I need to step outside."

Without further explanation she stands, and moves slowly toward the council chamber door. Something happens around her, some kind of conflict among her friends and the dwarves, and she supposes it has to do with her sudden choice to leave, but she cannot focus on it. Soon, she is being escorted out, clinging tightly to the thick, rough hand of an unknown dwarf.

Finally inside, Garrek motions gleefully to a dark room - an armory - and informs Kaelan, "There you are. The assassin has been lured here. Make them pay dearly."

With a shrug, the warrior draws his bastard sword and steps inside. Wary of the mage that tried to kill Garrek, he steps quickly out of the light in the passageway and makes directly toward the other end of the room. His first awareness of anyone else's presence is a sharp gasp, and light panting.

'Teri has been led somewhere, but she cannot tell where. It is dark, yet spots of light dance wildly before her vision as her breath closes off completely, her tongue drying and swelling to add to the discomfort. She fights to force her mind to focus, to remember what might have gone wrong - what could have poisoned her, when suddenly her vision becomes unrealistically clear. She looks up to see a huge man standing in a doorway, a large sword held menacingly in his right hand - and just as suddenly, the feeling strangling her lifts, and she inhales deeply. Again, a throbbing headache, and again, bright spots of light, but they are brief now, and she works her way to her feet, releasing the catch on her own weapon and slowly, soundlessly drawing it out.

The battle is short, but furious. Aueniteri began exhausted, Kaelan well, but not nearly so agile as she. She sidestepped and dodged, and once made a good cut on his arm, before he caught her by the shirt at the stomach, and slammed her against the wall, holding his left arm across her chest while his right fumbled with a striker, and soon, he had a tiny fire burning in a tinderbox, which he brought to her face. For a moment, they stared in each other's eyes, Aueniteri defiant, Kaelan confused, until the big man growled in surprise, "A girl?!", and dropped her, turned his back and strode for the hallway.

Again, Aueniteri waits for her breath to return before standing and following the warrior. "Are you finished? Who sent you?"

Kaelan isn't listening to her. He grabs Garrek by the burned coat, and lifts him angrily. "You sent me to kill a girl?!"

"My sister, to be exact," Garrek replies coolly, and Kaelan drops him.

"You want her dead? Do it your own damn self. I'm not getting my hands into this."

"But she has a weapon; I do not."

"Simple enough," Kaelan said, and drew his own longsword. "Use this. But you owe me extra if this pulls through."

"And if it doesn't?"

"The dwarves will kill us all anyway. It won't matter."
-   -   -   -   -   -   -

"When I have secured our use of the Anvil, whether in person or through proxy, then can the matter of the healing be attended to; or, as Seyella permits, before then."
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Talas Anthavin
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« Reply #147 on: December 11, 2007, 01:24:48 PM »

Capher looks anxiously toward the others, particularly Morcaanan, after 'Teri has left the council chamber with a strange looking dwarf he has not seen before, and then back at the Gornegron.  "Gornegron, I hope I have revealed enough of our intentions to stand in your trust."

Harrek Ironarm scratches his beard thoughtfully.  "You have not told us of what you mean to do with the Anvil of Kurik.  I can vaguely guess what it will be used for, if you are able to find it."  He looks back at the priestess.  "Do you have anything further you wish to tell our guests?"

The Denirim shakes her head.  Though there is much she would like to ask Capher, she has little understanding of their quest, and doubts she could be of any further use to the group.

The old dragon looks back at the exit through which 'Teri has left, and then back at the Gornegron.  "Gornegron, would you mind if one of us checked upon our companion.  I fear she may have trouble breathing underground," he lies.  "Morcaanan could be of some comfort to our friend."  Capher looks plaintively back at Morcaanan, concern clearly registering in his eyes.

"He may, though he may not travel our halls alone," the Gornegron replies.  For the first time, Harrek addresses Brenna, who has sat quietly by the group.  "Brenna, take one of the guards and accompany Morcaanan."

Then the Gornegron looks to Morcaanan.  "You may see to your friend if you wish."
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Morcaanan
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« Reply #148 on: December 14, 2007, 12:30:32 AM »

Morcaanan had up to this point been listening with half an ear, cataloging Capher and the dwarves were saying without giving it his full attention. Details may have slipped by unnoticed, but he caught the gist of their exchange.

At first he had merely been studying each of the individuals in the room, doing what a warrior so often does in a strange environment: assessing how he could kill each one of these strangers.
It was not because he was violent by nature, but to survive, one must always be prepared to fight, and when necessary, kill. So his mind was already moving through the processes of battle, even as he sat in a place that was supposedly peaceful and friendly.

But what now drew the larger part of his attention was 'Teri's strange behaviour: she looked vaguely like an older person with a weak heart. Something troubled her - he was not sure what it was. Continuing to feign complete and total interest in the discussion between the Wolf and the dwarves, he scanned the room, looking for whatever it was that seemed to have put 'Teri out of sorts: were they in danger? Did she know one of these dwarves?
But nothing seemed wrong: except for the occasional stray and often curious glance, the group was focused as one upon "the Storyteller". Even Ken was to an unusual degree silent (though that did not rule out that he was not talking to himself).

"I need to step outside" she whispered. Her standing drew several looks, but a dwarf took her by the hand and led her out, and the room settled once more to listen to Capher.

Morcaanan fidgeted, now wholly distracted. Anything else the Old Wolf and the council might have said went completely unregistered, for he was simply trying to process too much information about too many topics at the same time - especially when one in particular was so near his heart, and she seemed to be in pain.

Capher noticed his discomfort, even as he spoke to the dwarven council.
"Morcaanan could be of some comfort to our friend."

The mercenary's head came round, eyes which a moment before had been resting on the exit now focused on the Wolf.

"He may, though he may not travel our halls alone; Brenna, take one of the guards and accompany Morcaanan." The head of the dwarves addressed him directly. "You may see to your friend if you wish."

Morcaanan rose, hand falling to rest naturally on the hilt of his weapon as he exited the council room. Silence was at his back - and for the moment, silence was ahead.

As he walked on, he cast his glance from side to side, wondering which way 'Teri had gone. A few moments of walking - and seeing no sign of her - caused him to pause.

"What is wrong?" asked Brenna. Morcaanan started, having forgotten she spoke Tharian.

"She said she had to step outside" he murmured, more to himself than to Brennan. He mused. "She would not have gone outside these holes?"

Brennan did not reveal any sign behind her beard of being miffed at the dwarven fastnesses being called "holes", which was just as well. "No, she could not get outside the caves."

Morcaanan missed the pointed correction, so focused had he become on 'Teri's disappearance. "Something is wrong..." he muttered.

A slight ring - like a small, steel bell - came from a corridor they had already passed. All three turned to look.

"Sword." The mercenary doubled back, the dwarves now ahead of him, and they all three rolled down the halls in the direction of the armory.
« Last Edit: December 14, 2007, 12:35:32 AM by Morcaanan » Logged

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« Reply #149 on: December 14, 2007, 02:34:43 AM »

Kaelan sees the group coming, and gives a sidelong glance to the dwarf that brought the elf girl here in the first place, that let them in - and watches curiously as his shoulders slump in surrender, and his face drops. The dwarf looks so thoroughly beaten. The warrior shakes his head, shrugs off the feeling given him by the look on the dwarf's face, and turns to meet the oncoming trio. Two dwarves, and a man. An odd-looking man; Kaelan can't pin his tribe anywhere that he is familiar with. With meaning, Kaelan clasps the pommel of his bastard sword with his right hand, firmly, and stares them down.

"You come for the elf? Just wait. Let them have it out."
-   -   -   -   -   -

When Garrek was first sent into the room, with a torch to provide a little light, he began to try and talk to 'Teri, his old habit. It wasn't long, however, before his taunts became too pointed, too aggressive, and silently he blamed the demon who had promised him power. 'Teri stopped listening, and began the most curious dance he had ever seen. She steps up toward him, until he begins to move, then quickly dashes off to his left, backs off a step, and waits for him to turn and face her before doing it again.

Over and over it happens. Garrek, confused, struggles with frustration at her almost teasing gesture, not fully understanding what her motions are implying. Once, he slashes at her, but she easily parries it away, and dances past again. Then, just as the warrior guarding the door is heard and 'Teri's head turns slightly to look, Garrek takes full advantage of the moment, throwing caution to the wind.

With a full two steps forward, he drives the blade home to 'Teri's heart, resulting in a resounding clang and a pained whimper as the warrior's longsword is thwarted by 'Teri's breastplate, tearing her blouse open wide and revealing the armor. Garrek stares, anger rising in him more than ever before as he tries to regain his hold on the blade, but it is too late.

After stepping back, and taking a moment to regain her balance and air, Aueniteri again makes a quick hop to Garrek's left and toward him, circling him - only this time, her blade is involved. A flash of steel and a thin red line were all that marked his passing. Garrek struggled with the warmth, then the numbness that began to conquer his left side, and was considering saying something, but never did. When he fell, Aueniteri gently wrapped the singed cloak that hung over his shoulder around his neck to soak up most of the blood, took off her now useless blouse, and stepped out to see who had come, having been certain she'd heard the warrior who blocked the door arguing with a voice that sounded distinctly like Morcaanan's, and she hoped it was.
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