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<blockquote data-quote="Aristoi" data-source="post: 2675036" data-attributes="member: 32975"><p>"My name is Elim," he said as he nodded, a type of formal bow. He held the crossbow ready, reloaded already, the case of bolts hanging on a belt at his side. Like the rest he was naked and had been for some time, modesty had been burned away a long time ago. </p><p></p><p>He took stock of his companions. </p><p></p><p>Adama stood across from him, breathing heavily, dripping with gore. His shortsword gleaming dully, the runes glowing with soft blue light and sizzling faintly as the blood dried and began to flake off. The ruin of Thuzzar lay behind him, barely recognizable. </p><p></p><p>He stood nearly as tall as Elim himself, though he was more muscled and covered in a coat of wiry fur turning from russet-red on top to darker black-brown on haunches and legs to his cloven hooves. His upper body was well-developed, despite his incarcertaion, because of his endless hours of practice. </p><p></p><p>In most ways he seemed a man, except for the coat of fur, the cloven hooves and the decidedly inhuman head. His goat-eyes, backward curling horns and the nose and mouth that somewhat merged into a corvid-like face. To those who knew, he was Ibixian. To those that did not, he would be a 'monster'. </p><p></p><p>Kilmor stood closest to him, also much spattered, the tall bull-like being seemingly like a Minotaur though with subtle differences. A gleam of sharp intellect came from his brown eyes and his face had the more-forward facing eyes of a predator rather than those of cattle. His horns, now much-ground down from the small space he had been kept it, had once spanned a width slightly wider than his shoulders, which were of themselves massive. At full height he stood fully nine feet tall and weighed more than the three others here, his rippling muscles and powerful hands a testament to that. </p><p></p><p>And anyone who thought him a minotaur deserved what the got, for though they resembled one another, the Yak-folk were far more. </p><p></p><p>S'lanneneth crouched in his little hole, still too timid to emerge. He had snatched up Thuzzar's dagger at some point and held it low and to the side, shielding it from easy view, but Elim had seen and understood. He might look like a defenseless elf-child but Elim had seen both his true form and knew he was more skilled than he had been permitted to display before. </p><p></p><p>His voice could be sweet, he knew that and they all knew to what uses the Master had put the shapechanger, especially in his own quest to understand the inherent magic of such creatures. And yet, he had not discovered what it was that gave them that power. </p><p></p><p>Thankfully. </p><p></p><p>Still, S'lanneneth was a useful sort, his mind full of all sorts of tidbits that could prove helpful at any point. </p><p></p><p>"We should leave," he added, hoping to prompt more from the others. He knew they were all, including himself, in some level of shock. But fromt he sounds of weapon's combat in the corridors and the roaring and calls of the inmates, a pitched battle would be in progress. Escaping was going to be 'diffcult' at the least. And as if to puntuate his words, a dull rumbling from above, a vibration and more sifting dust from the ceiling pulled all their gazes upward. "Whatever that is doesn't sound healthy for us. It sounds as if Bloodtwist is having a party and the guests were insulted." </p><p></p><p>"You cou-ou-ould be right," Adama stuttered out. He blinked in what appeared to be frustration and shook it off, his nostrils flaring. "I am Adama, of Cormyr. Where are you from?" </p><p></p><p>"Pandemonium," Elim replied simply. It wasn't where he was most-recently from but it was where he had been born. "'A different Realm from Toril." </p><p></p><p>"You are of the Githyanki?" S'lanneneth asked curiously, timidly from where he crouched. </p><p></p><p>Elim turned and his eyes became cold white slits, making the other crouch away with a whimper. "You do not know enough not to offer insult knowingly, changeling; I will not slay you for that. I am not a G'thyanki," he pronounced it in the ancient form, "I am G'thzerai." </p><p></p><p>"Hey!" Adama called, stepping between them and protecting the shrinking S'lanneneth. A huge mistake should the other choose to press an issue, though of them Elim thought Kilmor far more likely to attack, considering his people's philosophies. "I don't care wha-a-at you are," he told Elim sharply, holding his weapon firmly but keepiing in a non-threatening position, "but it's true we must esca-a-ape. We must rely on one another to get out of here. From there on, we may part company. Agreed?" he asked, turning to all three of them were in his field of vision and were addressed equally. </p><p></p><p>Elim saw it for what it was and technically agreed with it, the ploy was good to escape and there would be great strength in such an alliance. He would even allow Adama to lead them for he himself had no such charisma. </p><p></p><p>He readied himself to attack the Yak, should he prove a dissenter. </p><p></p><p>"Agreed," came the surprising rumble from the massive bovinoid. "It is a good idea. I will follow for now. I am called Kilmor." </p><p></p><p>"A-agreed," S'lanneneth spoke up and emerged from his hole a little more, standing upright slowly, as if unused to it. "I am S'lanneneth but you can call me S'lann. I am unsure what I am." </p><p></p><p>"You are Fey'ri," Elim replied, having recognized the rare breed years ago. "The offspring of a demon and an elf, though I believe the breeding of a Drow and a lower demon, if I have it arights." </p><p></p><p>"I was wondering," S'lann murmured, thoughfully. "I was often brought into the presence of Drow visitors and commanded to take Drow shape and wear huge chains and a collar. That shape always felt more comfortable for some reason.." he paused, looking down at himself. </p><p></p><p>"Elim," Adama asked, gesturing to the crossbow, "you appear skilled in tha-a-at weapon?" </p><p></p><p>"It is not my weapon of choice but I understand it's use," Elim replied and a wrinkle of his eyebrowns. "A bow in my hands is a far more worthy tool and there are wonders I may create." </p><p></p><p>"Good enough," Adama replied and turned to Kilmor, "you seem very well-equipped with your hands. Are you trained in that method of fighting?" </p><p></p><p>"You ask if I am a warrior or an ascetic?" Kilmor asked rhetorically before smiling and showing his even herbivorous teeth, "I have studies ascetic philosophies and am most comfortable with these," he held up his hands, "or a staff of the appropriate size." </p><p></p><p>"Good," Adama nodded, "there is no a-a-armor that will fit you anyway and you seem very quick to be so large." </p><p></p><p>"It is part of the training," Kilmor replied with a slight bow of thanks for the compliment. </p><p></p><p>"Do you require armor Elim?" he turned back to the Githzerai.</p><p></p><p>"Nay Adama," he replied, careful to use their names as well. There was a reinforcement to recognizing and using names. It helped commit you to freedom when for so long you have been "beast" or "slave". "I am well-enough protected by my own speed and natural defenses. It seems that there is only two sets of armor anyway and considering the two of you, S'lann and you would be the best-suited to it." </p><p></p><p>"A-a-agreed," Adama replied quietly. "We shall divide their belongings equally. Clothing?" He asked the others, raising an eyebrow in question. </p><p></p><p>"Something," Elim replied, gesturing down which was somewhere they all had avoided looking at on each other. </p><p></p><p>"Anything," S'lann said at nearly the same time. </p><p></p><p>In the end Thuzzar's cloth-clout, carefully turned inside out because of what he found in it, girded Elim's loins. Until he could bathe properly, he wished to have a covering that was at least slightly cleaner than he was. Kilmor remained simply furred, though with a bit of wine he found in a flask he cleaned most of the gore from his fur and rid himself of embarrassing definition. </p><p></p><p>S'lann wore the studded leather Thuzzar had worn and had taken the buckler and hand-axe, flipping the weapon with a skill that made Elim slightly wary. He was sure he could put a shaft in his head before the axe found him but he prayed silently to the Balance that all things would remain equal for now. </p><p></p><p>Adama wore the chain mail, carried the shortsword and longsword and the chainmail Donnil had worn. Much of the gore had been removed but there was still a great deal, though Adama did not allow it to impede him a whit. He had managed, in the confusion of plundering the bodies and guarding the passage, to draw upon the Wyld and tap into the life-giving energy it held for him. some of his remaining wounds had scabbed, bruises had faded. He was not ready to share this secret with the others yet; it was too important. </p><p></p><p>Immediately from their passage the corridor crossed, leading them choices both right and left. The external passage had changed as well, being only two paces wide before the rumbling began, they found that it was now more than four and was very high as well. </p><p></p><p>Once again the Shiftspire had changed and yet, this seemed different.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Aristoi, post: 2675036, member: 32975"] "My name is Elim," he said as he nodded, a type of formal bow. He held the crossbow ready, reloaded already, the case of bolts hanging on a belt at his side. Like the rest he was naked and had been for some time, modesty had been burned away a long time ago. He took stock of his companions. Adama stood across from him, breathing heavily, dripping with gore. His shortsword gleaming dully, the runes glowing with soft blue light and sizzling faintly as the blood dried and began to flake off. The ruin of Thuzzar lay behind him, barely recognizable. He stood nearly as tall as Elim himself, though he was more muscled and covered in a coat of wiry fur turning from russet-red on top to darker black-brown on haunches and legs to his cloven hooves. His upper body was well-developed, despite his incarcertaion, because of his endless hours of practice. In most ways he seemed a man, except for the coat of fur, the cloven hooves and the decidedly inhuman head. His goat-eyes, backward curling horns and the nose and mouth that somewhat merged into a corvid-like face. To those who knew, he was Ibixian. To those that did not, he would be a 'monster'. Kilmor stood closest to him, also much spattered, the tall bull-like being seemingly like a Minotaur though with subtle differences. A gleam of sharp intellect came from his brown eyes and his face had the more-forward facing eyes of a predator rather than those of cattle. His horns, now much-ground down from the small space he had been kept it, had once spanned a width slightly wider than his shoulders, which were of themselves massive. At full height he stood fully nine feet tall and weighed more than the three others here, his rippling muscles and powerful hands a testament to that. And anyone who thought him a minotaur deserved what the got, for though they resembled one another, the Yak-folk were far more. S'lanneneth crouched in his little hole, still too timid to emerge. He had snatched up Thuzzar's dagger at some point and held it low and to the side, shielding it from easy view, but Elim had seen and understood. He might look like a defenseless elf-child but Elim had seen both his true form and knew he was more skilled than he had been permitted to display before. His voice could be sweet, he knew that and they all knew to what uses the Master had put the shapechanger, especially in his own quest to understand the inherent magic of such creatures. And yet, he had not discovered what it was that gave them that power. Thankfully. Still, S'lanneneth was a useful sort, his mind full of all sorts of tidbits that could prove helpful at any point. "We should leave," he added, hoping to prompt more from the others. He knew they were all, including himself, in some level of shock. But fromt he sounds of weapon's combat in the corridors and the roaring and calls of the inmates, a pitched battle would be in progress. Escaping was going to be 'diffcult' at the least. And as if to puntuate his words, a dull rumbling from above, a vibration and more sifting dust from the ceiling pulled all their gazes upward. "Whatever that is doesn't sound healthy for us. It sounds as if Bloodtwist is having a party and the guests were insulted." "You cou-ou-ould be right," Adama stuttered out. He blinked in what appeared to be frustration and shook it off, his nostrils flaring. "I am Adama, of Cormyr. Where are you from?" "Pandemonium," Elim replied simply. It wasn't where he was most-recently from but it was where he had been born. "'A different Realm from Toril." "You are of the Githyanki?" S'lanneneth asked curiously, timidly from where he crouched. Elim turned and his eyes became cold white slits, making the other crouch away with a whimper. "You do not know enough not to offer insult knowingly, changeling; I will not slay you for that. I am not a G'thyanki," he pronounced it in the ancient form, "I am G'thzerai." "Hey!" Adama called, stepping between them and protecting the shrinking S'lanneneth. A huge mistake should the other choose to press an issue, though of them Elim thought Kilmor far more likely to attack, considering his people's philosophies. "I don't care wha-a-at you are," he told Elim sharply, holding his weapon firmly but keepiing in a non-threatening position, "but it's true we must esca-a-ape. We must rely on one another to get out of here. From there on, we may part company. Agreed?" he asked, turning to all three of them were in his field of vision and were addressed equally. Elim saw it for what it was and technically agreed with it, the ploy was good to escape and there would be great strength in such an alliance. He would even allow Adama to lead them for he himself had no such charisma. He readied himself to attack the Yak, should he prove a dissenter. "Agreed," came the surprising rumble from the massive bovinoid. "It is a good idea. I will follow for now. I am called Kilmor." "A-agreed," S'lanneneth spoke up and emerged from his hole a little more, standing upright slowly, as if unused to it. "I am S'lanneneth but you can call me S'lann. I am unsure what I am." "You are Fey'ri," Elim replied, having recognized the rare breed years ago. "The offspring of a demon and an elf, though I believe the breeding of a Drow and a lower demon, if I have it arights." "I was wondering," S'lann murmured, thoughfully. "I was often brought into the presence of Drow visitors and commanded to take Drow shape and wear huge chains and a collar. That shape always felt more comfortable for some reason.." he paused, looking down at himself. "Elim," Adama asked, gesturing to the crossbow, "you appear skilled in tha-a-at weapon?" "It is not my weapon of choice but I understand it's use," Elim replied and a wrinkle of his eyebrowns. "A bow in my hands is a far more worthy tool and there are wonders I may create." "Good enough," Adama replied and turned to Kilmor, "you seem very well-equipped with your hands. Are you trained in that method of fighting?" "You ask if I am a warrior or an ascetic?" Kilmor asked rhetorically before smiling and showing his even herbivorous teeth, "I have studies ascetic philosophies and am most comfortable with these," he held up his hands, "or a staff of the appropriate size." "Good," Adama nodded, "there is no a-a-armor that will fit you anyway and you seem very quick to be so large." "It is part of the training," Kilmor replied with a slight bow of thanks for the compliment. "Do you require armor Elim?" he turned back to the Githzerai. "Nay Adama," he replied, careful to use their names as well. There was a reinforcement to recognizing and using names. It helped commit you to freedom when for so long you have been "beast" or "slave". "I am well-enough protected by my own speed and natural defenses. It seems that there is only two sets of armor anyway and considering the two of you, S'lann and you would be the best-suited to it." "A-a-agreed," Adama replied quietly. "We shall divide their belongings equally. Clothing?" He asked the others, raising an eyebrow in question. "Something," Elim replied, gesturing down which was somewhere they all had avoided looking at on each other. "Anything," S'lann said at nearly the same time. In the end Thuzzar's cloth-clout, carefully turned inside out because of what he found in it, girded Elim's loins. Until he could bathe properly, he wished to have a covering that was at least slightly cleaner than he was. Kilmor remained simply furred, though with a bit of wine he found in a flask he cleaned most of the gore from his fur and rid himself of embarrassing definition. S'lann wore the studded leather Thuzzar had worn and had taken the buckler and hand-axe, flipping the weapon with a skill that made Elim slightly wary. He was sure he could put a shaft in his head before the axe found him but he prayed silently to the Balance that all things would remain equal for now. Adama wore the chain mail, carried the shortsword and longsword and the chainmail Donnil had worn. Much of the gore had been removed but there was still a great deal, though Adama did not allow it to impede him a whit. He had managed, in the confusion of plundering the bodies and guarding the passage, to draw upon the Wyld and tap into the life-giving energy it held for him. some of his remaining wounds had scabbed, bruises had faded. He was not ready to share this secret with the others yet; it was too important. Immediately from their passage the corridor crossed, leading them choices both right and left. The external passage had changed as well, being only two paces wide before the rumbling began, they found that it was now more than four and was very high as well. Once again the Shiftspire had changed and yet, this seemed different. [/QUOTE]
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