The Story Continues
Ngithol listened calmly to the prospect of them engaging this...
'Tanarukk' as everyone around the town of Rurr scrabbled to get themselves out of it's way. She listened and thought back to the tomes she'd thoroughly studied and tried hard to memorize. Tomes filled with knowledge of the arcane, filled with information she had hoped might lead her home and not be the product of a drug induced scribble session some writer experienced. She ran through the steps for one of the 'simpler' spells it had contained and found herself working through it as though it were some simple mechanical design. She smiled inwardly at the feeling of the various parts of the spell slotting together becoming a greater whole. That is until she came up to the part where she always failed. The part where she, a dwarf that'd faced down angry leviathans once upon a time, felt scared. To complete the spell she'd have to open herself up to energies, energies she felt firmly were responsible for the life she now lived. She sighed as she felt herself unable/unwilling to open that door at this time and watched in her minds eye all the pieces of the spell drift away like sand held in her open hands, sand that was now being replaced by tell tale signs of another 'episode' Ngithol gritted her teeth and set about busying herself with the civilians and their evacuation, determined to not lose her composure again so soon. She knew they'd most likely misunderstand her mood and demeanor but could care less, as long as it kept the flames at bay.
-----Several instances of Surliness later-----
Blood. It always intrigued her how some claimed it held mystical properties. How it could seperate and tie together groups. How it could purportedly cause some to rise to greatness and others devolve into beasts. Beasts which now lay slain at the feet of her partners. The blood of these orcs held no promise, no reason, no explanation for their savagery or brutality. It held only their life essence, an essence twisted to violence and cruelty. An essence that seemed all too ready to abandon it's liquid prison given the chance. She thought back to the children that'd been attacked by these orcs and the fact that it was only through her group's luck and timing that they'd narrowly avoided being orphaned, a fate she'd not been so lucky to avoid as a child. She thought of the others undoubtedly not as lucky as those three, the hardship that would forcibly be placed upon countless children if her group failed in their mission. She looked up at her comrades as they set out and when she believed none were looking forced herself again through the spell she'd been stymied by countless times over the years. She paused for only a heartbeat before wrenching open the 'door' she'd been afraid of, determined to no longer let her own fear prevent her from doing all she could to protect the untold innocents.
Time seemingly stretched for a moment as adrenaline flooded her body and she closed her eyes in anticipation of the flames she knew would surely engulf her. After a few heartbeats in which the flames did not come she opened her eyes and beheld a small mote of green fire dancing languidly in her hand. Hypnotically it moved around her hand, flowing against her palm before seemingly moving to caress her fingers as she flexed them. She realized it was connected to her by a thread of power, a thread she now knew was binding it's destructive potential to her will. She looked at the orc corpse at her feet and willed more power into the spell and marveled as the mote suddenly spewed forth a bolt of flame that reduced the corpse to ash in the blink of an eye. With a thought she dismissed the thread of power and watched the mote disappear leaving her hand empty and unharmed. She hurried to catch up to her party, her mind now alive and racing to recall all the information the tome had contained. She knew she might need more than flame for the things yet to come.
-----One Dead Tanarukk later-----
Ngithol felt aches and popped a few joints as she sat down to truly try and rest for the first time in what seemed like an age. It felt like an age since she'd pushed herself hard like she had to try and keep up with her group. Combining that with the battles they'd fought and that it'd been over a day since the last proper sleep made for a really strong urge to nap. A Tanarukk dead with his axe now resting in her lap, various people saved and her now having taken steps to use the arcane. All in all a good day. She looked up at Laer-Thuil as they sat in the druidic circle, noting the elves were readying for their own departure and drug herself up and approached them.
As she neared the elves she spoke out in Fhoki, "Laer-Thuil, a moment of your time perhaps?" hoping that might prevent others from thinking she intended some social faux pas. As the elves turned she pulled a few pieces of leather parchment from underneath her chainmail, they seemed old and weathered yet she obviously took great care to preserve them. As she unfolded them, it became obvious they were covered quite thoroughly in script. One intimately familiar to Ngithol as she'd penned the original parchment years ago and had periodically added to it as time went on. The script made up a letter meant for Mebzuth if ever she found a way to get it to him and detailed much of what she'd been through and experienced. It mentioned her highs, her lows and how she'd never once found as stalwart a companion in life. All this and more was on the pages she now readied to hand to the elf, yet she was willing to risk the possibility of another seeing such a side of her if it meant finding her home.
As she proffered it to Laer-Thuil she suddenly spoke in elvish, "I know elves are a long lived race and prone to remembering things forgotten by those with shorter lives. I wonder perhaps if the script on that page might seem familiar to you or your companions in any way. If so I'd greatly appreciate any information on how you might know of it. If you do not recognize it, perhaps you could indulge me in advising me on any nearby ruins that might once have been part of a fort, one built into the side of a mountain?"
'Tanarukk' as everyone around the town of Rurr scrabbled to get themselves out of it's way. She listened and thought back to the tomes she'd thoroughly studied and tried hard to memorize. Tomes filled with knowledge of the arcane, filled with information she had hoped might lead her home and not be the product of a drug induced scribble session some writer experienced. She ran through the steps for one of the 'simpler' spells it had contained and found herself working through it as though it were some simple mechanical design. She smiled inwardly at the feeling of the various parts of the spell slotting together becoming a greater whole. That is until she came up to the part where she always failed. The part where she, a dwarf that'd faced down angry leviathans once upon a time, felt scared. To complete the spell she'd have to open herself up to energies, energies she felt firmly were responsible for the life she now lived. She sighed as she felt herself unable/unwilling to open that door at this time and watched in her minds eye all the pieces of the spell drift away like sand held in her open hands, sand that was now being replaced by tell tale signs of another 'episode' Ngithol gritted her teeth and set about busying herself with the civilians and their evacuation, determined to not lose her composure again so soon. She knew they'd most likely misunderstand her mood and demeanor but could care less, as long as it kept the flames at bay.
-----Several instances of Surliness later-----
Blood. It always intrigued her how some claimed it held mystical properties. How it could seperate and tie together groups. How it could purportedly cause some to rise to greatness and others devolve into beasts. Beasts which now lay slain at the feet of her partners. The blood of these orcs held no promise, no reason, no explanation for their savagery or brutality. It held only their life essence, an essence twisted to violence and cruelty. An essence that seemed all too ready to abandon it's liquid prison given the chance. She thought back to the children that'd been attacked by these orcs and the fact that it was only through her group's luck and timing that they'd narrowly avoided being orphaned, a fate she'd not been so lucky to avoid as a child. She thought of the others undoubtedly not as lucky as those three, the hardship that would forcibly be placed upon countless children if her group failed in their mission. She looked up at her comrades as they set out and when she believed none were looking forced herself again through the spell she'd been stymied by countless times over the years. She paused for only a heartbeat before wrenching open the 'door' she'd been afraid of, determined to no longer let her own fear prevent her from doing all she could to protect the untold innocents.
Time seemingly stretched for a moment as adrenaline flooded her body and she closed her eyes in anticipation of the flames she knew would surely engulf her. After a few heartbeats in which the flames did not come she opened her eyes and beheld a small mote of green fire dancing languidly in her hand. Hypnotically it moved around her hand, flowing against her palm before seemingly moving to caress her fingers as she flexed them. She realized it was connected to her by a thread of power, a thread she now knew was binding it's destructive potential to her will. She looked at the orc corpse at her feet and willed more power into the spell and marveled as the mote suddenly spewed forth a bolt of flame that reduced the corpse to ash in the blink of an eye. With a thought she dismissed the thread of power and watched the mote disappear leaving her hand empty and unharmed. She hurried to catch up to her party, her mind now alive and racing to recall all the information the tome had contained. She knew she might need more than flame for the things yet to come.
-----One Dead Tanarukk later-----
Ngithol felt aches and popped a few joints as she sat down to truly try and rest for the first time in what seemed like an age. It felt like an age since she'd pushed herself hard like she had to try and keep up with her group. Combining that with the battles they'd fought and that it'd been over a day since the last proper sleep made for a really strong urge to nap. A Tanarukk dead with his axe now resting in her lap, various people saved and her now having taken steps to use the arcane. All in all a good day. She looked up at Laer-Thuil as they sat in the druidic circle, noting the elves were readying for their own departure and drug herself up and approached them.
As she neared the elves she spoke out in Fhoki, "Laer-Thuil, a moment of your time perhaps?" hoping that might prevent others from thinking she intended some social faux pas. As the elves turned she pulled a few pieces of leather parchment from underneath her chainmail, they seemed old and weathered yet she obviously took great care to preserve them. As she unfolded them, it became obvious they were covered quite thoroughly in script. One intimately familiar to Ngithol as she'd penned the original parchment years ago and had periodically added to it as time went on. The script made up a letter meant for Mebzuth if ever she found a way to get it to him and detailed much of what she'd been through and experienced. It mentioned her highs, her lows and how she'd never once found as stalwart a companion in life. All this and more was on the pages she now readied to hand to the elf, yet she was willing to risk the possibility of another seeing such a side of her if it meant finding her home.
As she proffered it to Laer-Thuil she suddenly spoke in elvish, "I know elves are a long lived race and prone to remembering things forgotten by those with shorter lives. I wonder perhaps if the script on that page might seem familiar to you or your companions in any way. If so I'd greatly appreciate any information on how you might know of it. If you do not recognize it, perhaps you could indulge me in advising me on any nearby ruins that might once have been part of a fort, one built into the side of a mountain?"
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