Only the lightest scent of the arcane came from the dark elf in front of her -- the question seems well meant. The woman is called Michelle, and she has been watching me all evening, Gala says, her eyes suddenly shifting from her companion towards the woman with the halforcs, and waving at them. "Halloo!" she says, followed by the self-congratulatory laugh that she again coughs out in small gasps. she notes the expression of the redhead, and the two halforcs now with her. Might as put all the non-dwarves in the room in the same table, she thinks.
Galatea suddenly becomes self-conscious. She is making a spectacle of herself, which she is no used to doing. Her finger slides underneath the collar that she wears, and she pulls it away from her throat for a moment, the thumb resting against the small femur that serves as the choker's primary ornament.
She blushes, bringing momentary color to her tight, hard skin, weathered with years n the wasteland. Even though it wasn't this body, Gala muses, the flesh has a memory that persists.
"I beg your forgiveness, Master Tregar but I believe my need is urgent. I do not know if you are aware of the call to arms that has been issued this night but I have decided...I have to..."
The big man's voice died away as he sought for a way to explain his need.
"'Tis a long story, sir, but at the end, it is that I wish to join the call-up. However, long ago I gave away my halberd when I left...my former employ. I have this poleaxe which I use at the abattoir but although the balance is very good it is not what I am accustomed to. I was hoping you could perhaps change the head..."
His look was one of pleading and Tregar, nay anybody with an ounce of sense, could tell there was a tale worthy of a bard lurking behind this simple request. It was something in the eyes.
Looking at the man, Tregar was torn, he had received a vision of an overrun monastary, but here was someone requiring his aid to also help in pushing back the horde. He was about to turn the man away, when he saw the look in Henry's eyes.
Knowing full well the pain that the past can bring and what people do to try and move past it, Tregar felt a moment of pity for the man. He thought back to his past, the events that drove him from his own clan and to Overlook. They still stung him, despite the decades since his arrival here, Tregar placed his hand on the humans shoulder, standing on his toes to get there, and simply nodded.
"If this isn't the work of Moradin I don't know what is" Tregar thought as he took the shaft from Henry, directing him to help with the bellows, while the dwarf began stoking the fires of the forge to the correct temperature. Tregar felt a calm replacing the earlier confusion and hurriedness he felt before the human's arrival. He entered into an almost trancelike state, calmly going through the same steps he went through every day for the last few decades.
He pulled on the toughened leather gloves, perfectly molded to Tregar's hands after months of breaking them in, followed by the leather apron, protecting himself from the burning embers and metal shavings that might come off. Tregar had initially thought about giving Henry one of his standard axe heads, he kept a few in stock for the watch, but knew that this man required something special if he was to overcome his internal conflict.
Going to his storage room, Tregar closed the door behind him and went to another secret compartment. He paused when he saw the glistening, silvery metal block sitting there, Tregar stopped for a moment and almost reconsidered. This particular treasure was one he had took with him from his birthplace and one of the few strings still connecting him to that place. Something spurred him on, whether it was himself or some divine inspiration, Tregar didn't know. He brought the block back into his work area and waved Henry outside. This would require his utmost concentration and he couldn't be distracted by another.
Grasping the tongs in his left hand, Tregar began working the metal into the shape he desired. Luckily, the mithril block was easier to work with than his standard steel or iron. "No wonder the elves like working with is the dwarf thought as he pulled it out of the flames and continued hammering it on the anvil.
After only a couple hours, Tregar looked with admiration at the nearly completed piece, it was still glowing white hot from the intense heat, but it was far and away the best piece he'd ever created. Tregar felt something guiding his hand that day and he knew that this weapon would be destined for great things. While it was still hot, Tregar grabbed the holy symbol of Moradin and pressed it against one of the sides of the head. The mithrilhead took the imprint, but the action ruined the holy symbol, melting most of the inlay. Allowing it to cool Tregar retrieved the shaft and affixed the head to it. He tested the weight and balance of the implement and was amazed at how lightweight and fluid the weapon felt. Even he was able to wield it with relative ease, Tregar couldn't wait to see what it would be like in the hands of a trained fighter.
Returning from the forge, Tregar reverently held the poleaxe in front of him lengthwise, across both hands. He handed over the weapon with mixed feelings, he had the distinct feeling that this was his zenith, no other creation he ever made would match the level of this poleaxe.
"Please, try it out" Tregar said in hushed tones to Henry
Baldwin was carrying his mentor. The old dwarf was heavy, but he needed help. Gundar has teach him most of what he knew, he owe him. But he still wonder how it could had happen. The underground world was not an easy place, and both of them knew it. They always have been cautious, they knew the danger, but that... it was unexpected. What they was doing so near of the surface. Why they were so aggressive. Something have been pushing them. And if something scared them, Baldwin was in his right mind to be scared too.
Gundar had warded him, protected him. He had asked him to flee. To warn Overlook that something was happening in the Vents. Baldwin did as ask, but it took only a few minutes and he was hearing nothing. When he came back, Gundar body was laying on the ground, his assailant was gone. Gundar wasn't dead yet, but his chance to live was slim. Maybe a temple in Overlook could help him.
As they reach the city gates, the two guards there looks at Baldwin and Gundar. "Dwarf, what happen?" asks the first one.
"My master have been attacked by creature in the Vents" answers Baldwin.
"What were you doing in the Vents. That's no place to be." replies the second.
"Just tell me where I could find an healer" asks Balwain, not wanting to loose more time. The travel have been long and Gundar could die at any moment.
The guard point him the way, and Baldwin followed him.
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Ralak-Nul relaxes a little, realizing the elf woman across from him does not seem to be preparing an attack. "She's Michelle, you say...know what she does?
Speaking of names, I am Ralak-Nul. What's yours?" asks the drow, curious to know what sort of woman would wear a collar.
Speaking of names, I am Ralak-Nul. What's yours?"[/color] asks the drow, curious to know what sort of woman would wear a collar.
"My name is Gala -- Galatea. I, too, am not from here." She says this slowly, each word emerging as a staccato. she is deliberate when she speaks. "There are a number of visitors who have heard the dwarf's summons to arms. A number of us who seem to have our own interests in stopping the orcish advance. While my time in this village has not been long, I my self do expect to be at the summons in two days' time."
Mri'Thas: "Useless primates... " Sheng Zim: "Your existence brings the world out of balance. The chaos I bring shall revert it; unfortunately, your soul will be destroyed in the process."
-------------------------------------- Tuk Heavy Hands Apeldan: "Trolls are afraid to cats. Good to know" (Yttermayn's "Saga of the Dragon Cult") Cnosos: "I bet there's plenty of wonderful devices in that ship. Let's scavenge them at once!" (Blackrat's "After Earth") Metliz: Sounds like fun! (Arkandus's "The First") Thok: "Thok eats a lot, Thok big. Thok not good at first impressions." (MnL's "Valley of the Dead")
Upon mention that the monk was looking for the temple to Moradin, Sister Tresa points out that the small temple here in Nine Bells that had been dedicated to the creator god has been abandoned. Instead, everyone who worships Moradin now goes to the huge cathedral Stone Anvil, which lies between Elftown and Stonehammer districts. Easily one of the largest buildings in Overlook, it's foundation extends deep into the earth and the doors to the worship hall rise 40 feet and require six dwarves to open and close. If the shifter requires time to be with his god, this is where he needs to go. Sister Tresa needs to decide whether to join him, or go her own way this evening.
**********
Henry Butcher lovingly takes the polearm from the weaponsmith, amazed at the craftsmanship. Even to a layman's eye, it is evident that Moradin does indeed guide Tregar's hand. The human gives his thanks. Tregar mentions that someone has come into the city that he really much see, and that it will take him to Stone Anvil catherdral. Henry nods in understanding and makes his decision on where to go next.
**********
Durkik smiles at the two men next to him, Gombar and Warrick, and says that he'd be glad to join them both for an ale. There's a very good establishment right here in the Inner City near the western gates called Michale's Blond, a down-to-earth tavern that specializes in serving the working class, offering honest fare, good brew, and a comfortable environment, all for a modest fee.
However, before he joins them there, Durkik says that he really must go around the corner from the Blond and return first to the Stone Anvil cathedral... because in addition to being the captain in charge of the city militia when it is convened, his day job is actually being the High Priest of Moradin here in Overlook. You wouldn't necessarily realize it just looking at him, but this dwarf is the head of all of Moradin's flock here in the city. And thus, knowing that most of the city will be worried about the incoming siege, there will be plenty of worshippers stopping in to give their prayers for a quick and successful campaign. Durkik really needs to present himself and keeps everyone's fears at bay and to give them hope.
Gombar and Warrick make a decision whether to join Durkik at the Stone Anvil, or go straight to Michael's Blond.
**********
"The cathdral. Stone Anvil. That's where you'll find a healer for this dwarf." The guard at the gate points behind him and up a few sections of the city to the huge, ornate stone building several wards to the east. Baldwin nods his thanks and then hurries off with Gundar still in his arms, hoping against hope he can arrive there fast enough before the old man passes into the grasp of the Raven Queen.
Baldwin had never been to Overlook. He had been raised in a small village and had spend the last few years around the Vents, living in the wilderness. Walking in the forest of house, with swarms of people walking around him, and most of them just ignoring him was somehow disturbing.
He follow the path shown by the guard. Luckily, the cathedral was easy to find. The large stone building was shadowing everything around it. Among all, it was the most impressive structure he had never seen. If he didn't felt the heavy burden over his back, he would stop a moment to look at the great temple of Moradin, but instead, he just walk to the door. Climbing the steps with his master on his back wasn't easy after such a long walk, but knowing he was near his goal was something that was pushing him, giving him strength.
Once at the door, he looked around, and ask at the first person he saw "Sorry, where I can find the healers in the Cathedral."
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Chris looks at the two elves who has invited themselves to the discussion. He hesitate a moment and look back at Gloomblade and Michelle. Not sure what to think about these two, he decides to follow the conversation they just have brought. "Call to arms. The only reason I could join the militia for the moment, it is to quit that place and make sure I don't get skinned because I look too much like an orc. Or maybe I could start to make glasses for every citizen of this city, so they can see I'm not an orc."
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"Ah'll join ye fer a good pray to the Souls Forger." States Gombar "Been a while since Ah stepped in the cathedral. A little religious duty won't hurt" he says. "Wha's 'bout ye elf? Want to pray to a real and masculine God, for a change, HA!" the old dwarf delivers a good slap on the elf's back.
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Mri'Thas: "Useless primates... " Sheng Zim: "Your existence brings the world out of balance. The chaos I bring shall revert it; unfortunately, your soul will be destroyed in the process."
-------------------------------------- Tuk Heavy Hands Apeldan: "Trolls are afraid to cats. Good to know" (Yttermayn's "Saga of the Dragon Cult") Cnosos: "I bet there's plenty of wonderful devices in that ship. Let's scavenge them at once!" (Blackrat's "After Earth") Metliz: Sounds like fun! (Arkandus's "The First") Thok: "Thok eats a lot, Thok big. Thok not good at first impressions." (MnL's "Valley of the Dead")
Henry takes the halberd from Tregar with a hushed reverence. The very look of the weapon speaks of its quality. He swings it around to the guard position, haft up, blade down then, with barely a pause, reverses the swing to deliver a horizontal cut at head height followed by a leg swipe, and a return to guard.
A tear forms in his eye as he realises what he is holding. "Master Tregar. This is a marvel. I have heard of weapons like this but never thought to see one, let alone posess one. You do me great honour."
He bowed, hand to heart, to honour the maker.
"If you will permit, I would accompany you to the temple. I wish to dedicate this halberd to the Soul Forger and to pledge my heart and my arm to the coming struggle."
After Tresa had pointed out the way to the Stone Anvil she turned and made her way to her lodgings. She washed her face and hands and made her evening devotions to Pelor.
Then it was time to prepare. She opened the base of her settle bed and took out her armour, checking the links for signs of rust or corrosion before trying it on for size. She smiled ruefully when she discovered her frugal life style had resulted in quite some loss of weight and bulk. That would soon change.
She dressed herself for battle, carefully adjusting the equipment for comfort and ease of use.
The memories came flooding back and she tightly shut her eyes to blot out the sights and the sounds that only she could see and hear. Almost did she rip everything off, but her resolve held.
"You need a drink, old woman; a strong drink." She considered her options. Most alehouses would be busy now but she wanted something more than just ale - she wanted atmosphere, somewhere that had a certain air!
The Salty Mug! Just the kind of place she needed! Throwing some coin in her purse she set out.
Chris looks at the two elves who has invited themselves to the discussion. He hesitate a moment and look back at Gloomblade and Michelle. Not sure what to think about these two, he decides to follow the conversation they just have brought. "Call to arms. The only reason I could join the militia for the moment, it is to quit that place and make sure I don't get skinned because I look too much like an orc. Or maybe I could start to make glasses for every citizen of this city, so they can see I'm not an orc."
"Yer not an Orc???" Gloomblade asks sarcastically, punctuated with a bluish, staccato laugh. "I ain't an Orc, neither, but I shore feel like sackin' n' pillagin' from time to time."
Gloomblade got up from his bar stool. "On that note, I've probably had enough o' the hard stuff for tonight. I don't wanna find meself facedown in a pool o' me own sick in the morn. Besides, I've much o' the town ta check out. I ain't been here more'n ten minute afore I spied this Salty Hog... if that's the name... I fergit."
He looks at Michelle and Chris. "I don't s'pose either of you upstandin' citizens would care ta take this repentent scallawag on a tour of this fine town..."
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Warrick glanced from Durkik to Gombar as the question loomed about the Stone Hall. He had been there before, and to Warrick, the structure seemed designed to be oppressive to non-dwarves. He started to nod his head, to agree with the Captain, when Gombar started in on his boasts.
The elf took an involuntary step forward from the heavy slap to his back, his bow slapping against his back as he stablized. "My cathedral is always around," Warrick offered softly, "I can spend time in yours as well."
"Tha's thi staff!" the dwarf starts to stomp towards the cathedral "Ha!" he laughs good hearted. "Tha's the kind 'f elf Ah like" he says pointing at Warrick with his thumb.
__________________ English is NOT my native language!
Mri'Thas: "Useless primates... " Sheng Zim: "Your existence brings the world out of balance. The chaos I bring shall revert it; unfortunately, your soul will be destroyed in the process."
-------------------------------------- Tuk Heavy Hands Apeldan: "Trolls are afraid to cats. Good to know" (Yttermayn's "Saga of the Dragon Cult") Cnosos: "I bet there's plenty of wonderful devices in that ship. Let's scavenge them at once!" (Blackrat's "After Earth") Metliz: Sounds like fun! (Arkandus's "The First") Thok: "Thok eats a lot, Thok big. Thok not good at first impressions." (MnL's "Valley of the Dead")
Once at the door, he looked around, and ask at the first person he saw "Sorry, where I can find the healers in the Cathedral."
His eyes open as she hears the stranger’s voice. Finding himself sitting on the steps at the entrance of a looming structure, she rises, his body responding in unfamiliar ways. Looking down at the dyed scraps of boiled leather covering her body he draws himself to her full height. Reflexively brushing her long white hair out of her face, he stops mid-way through the action, her brow furrowing. Remembering that he was asked a question, he moves her unexpectedly full lips to form the answer: “I’m sorry,” Her voice cracking slightly, “I can’t help you, I have no idea….” A crease appears on her smooth forehead as her tongue began to move, “At the far end, by the altar, good sir.”
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"Thanks." answers Baldwin. As he takes a further step, his legs weaken and fall on his knee. He could see the destination. So near, but he felt so tired and exhausted that he felt he couldn't reach it now. How could he have done such a distance carrying his friend and now failing so near of the goal.
"I... I am tired, could you please lend me an hand to carry my mentor to the altar." asks Baldwin.
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"Stealing, for survival, it's fair enough. Destroying a whole village, killing men, women and kids just to have some loots is far behind the line I won't cross. The life is hard, people are not always generous and gentle. Sometimes, the stronger will impose his rule, but that's the way it is." replies Chris to Gloomblade.
"Citizen? Ah! Nice one. I've been here for a month, I am far from gaining my citizenship... but if you want a tour, Michelle seems more the person you want."
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"I... I am tired, could you please lend me an hand to carry my mentor to the altar." asks Baldwin.
Looking at the dwarf, he hesitates, Damn, was it always this hard? she thought. She couldn’t remember. Over the wounded one she sees himself. He gestures to her, indicating to her to help. Moving swiftly he… She, dammit, she …she slides a lithe arm under the wounded dwarf, taking his weight. The deva rises smoothly to a comfortable height for the other dwarf and looks to him with her ice blue eyes, “Of course, good sir. It would be my pleasure. You look in need of rest yourself. I am,” A crease appears on her smooth forehead, “AltheaKalvinOrdonRelusAzyth…” Her full lips pull into a smile as she opens the door to the cathedral, “…call me Akora.” Watching herself go, her round hips swaying, Kalvin’s mouth pulled into a crooked smile. He would guide her, as Ordon had guided him before, along with the spirits of a thousand lifetimes...
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Henry takes the halberd from Tregar with a hushed reverence. The very look of the weapon speaks of its quality. He swings it around to the guard position, haft up, blade down then, with barely a pause, reverses the swing to deliver a horizontal cut at head height followed by a leg swipe, and a return to guard.
A tear forms in his eye as he realises what he is holding. "Master Tregar. This is a marvel. I have heard of weapons like this but never thought to see one, let alone posess one. You do me great honour."
He bowed, hand to heart, to honour the maker.
"If you will permit, I would accompany you to the temple. I wish to dedicate this halberd to the Soul Forger and to pledge my heart and my arm to the coming struggle."
[COLOR=#ffff00
Tregar nods and says, "Yes, let's go with haste" as he closes the door behind him, locking the smithy up and marching to the temple.
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