Menu
News
All News
Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
Pathfinder
Starfinder
Warhammer
2d20 System
Year Zero Engine
Industry News
Reviews
Dragon Reflections
Columns
Weekly Digests
Weekly News Digest
Freebies, Sales & Bundles
RPG Print News
RPG Crowdfunding News
Game Content
ENterplanetary DimENsions
Mythological Figures
Opinion
Worlds of Design
Peregrine's Next
RPG Evolution
Other Columns
From the Freelancing Frontline
Monster ENcyclopedia
WotC/TSR Alumni Look Back
4 Hours w/RSD (Ryan Dancey)
The Road to 3E (Jonathan Tweet)
Greenwood's Realms (Ed Greenwood)
Drawmij's TSR (Jim Ward)
Community
Forums & Topics
Forum List
Latest Posts
Forum list
*Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
D&D Older Editions
*TTRPGs General
*Pathfinder & Starfinder
EN Publishing
*Geek Talk & Media
Search forums
Chat/Discord
Resources
Wiki
Pages
Latest activity
Media
New media
New comments
Search media
Downloads
Latest reviews
Search resources
EN Publishing
Store
EN5ider
Adventures in ZEITGEIST
Awfully Cheerful Engine
What's OLD is NEW
Judge Dredd & The Worlds Of 2000AD
War of the Burning Sky
Level Up: Advanced 5E
Events & Releases
Upcoming Events
Private Events
Featured Events
Socials!
Twitch
YouTube
Facebook (EN Publishing)
Facebook (EN World)
Twitter
Instagram
TikTok
Podcast
Features
Top 5 RPGs Compiled Charts 2004-Present
Adventure Game Industry Market Research Summary (RPGs) V1.0
Ryan Dancey: Acquiring TSR
Q&A With Gary Gygax
D&D Rules FAQs
TSR, WotC, & Paizo: A Comparative History
D&D Pronunciation Guide
Million Dollar TTRPG Kickstarters
Tabletop RPG Podcast Hall of Fame
Eric Noah's Unofficial D&D 3rd Edition News
D&D in the Mainstream
D&D & RPG History
About Morrus
Log in
Register
What's new
Search
Search
Search titles only
By:
Forums & Topics
Forum List
Latest Posts
Forum list
*Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
D&D Older Editions
*TTRPGs General
*Pathfinder & Starfinder
EN Publishing
*Geek Talk & Media
Search forums
Chat/Discord
Menu
Log in
Register
Install the app
Install
Community
Playing the Game
Play by Post
Kingdoms of Kalamar; Rancor of the Unholy - Act 1: Scene 1
JavaScript is disabled. For a better experience, please enable JavaScript in your browser before proceeding.
You are using an out of date browser. It may not display this or other websites correctly.
You should upgrade or use an
alternative browser
.
Reply to thread
Message
<blockquote data-quote="narayan" data-source="post: 7556620" data-attributes="member: 6677509"><p><strong>Willambervale Somberthaine</strong></p><p></p><p><img src="https://i.imgur.com/aGE5OlEh.png" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /><img src="http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/yawn.png" class="smilie" loading="lazy" alt=":yawn:" title="Yawn :yawn:" data-shortname=":yawn:" /></p><p><img src="https://i.imgur.com/BAS81eih.png" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /></p><p></p><p><em>Near the outskirts of the fabled gray elven city of Doulathanorian, Willambervale Somberthaine felt the warmth of the sun wake him from a dreamless sleep. Moments later, the painful cramp in his neck, the aching hangover in his skull and the familiar hard surface pressed up against his cheek reminded him where he was. <span style="color: #ff0000">~Must have been another fun night...~</span> he remarked to himself.</em></p><p> <em></em></p><p><em>Slowly with some effort, a wincing expression and a shallow groan, Willambervale lifted his head off the table outside his favorite tavern. The pain throbbing behind his temples intensified, as did a sudden sense of diziness. Cautiously he began to open his eyes, but the very glimpse of sunlight felt like needles and he promptly shut them again.</em></p><p> <em></em></p><p><em><span style="color: #ff0000">~Oh yes you had fun alright~</span>, he chided himself, fumbling around his belt pouches for a healing potion. Such a use of healing magic was a waste to be sure, but not all hangovers were created equal and doulathan like himself (gray elves) were not known for strong constitutions. <span style="color: #ff0000">~I should have listened when they warned me off the tieflings wine...~</span></em></p><p><em><span style="color: #ff0000"></span></em></p><p><em>Willambervale pulled aside his midnight blue cloak, patting around his belt wrapped around a mithral chain shirt pulling a few vials out of a pouch. He felt over them with his fingertips until he found the head of a single pin protruding from one of the corks. Marking vials of healing potions this way was useful, just in case he was blinded in battle. Two pins would mean vials of anti-toxin, three pins would mean oil of daylight... essential in combat against Drow who were fond of poisons and darkness spells.</em></p><p><em> </em></p><p><em>This was standard training for the doulathan army of course, in which he served as a footman for eight years. <span style="color: #ff0000">~Old habits die hard eh?~</span> ...was a human expression he liked. Willambervale popped the vial open and gulped it down just as the sound of approaching footsteps drew near.</em></p><p> <em></em></p><p><em><span style="color: #800000">"Well-well-well, look at this ungoliria! I shant say I should be surprised."</span> A curt voice spit towards him at a distance of a few paces. (speaking elvish)</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Willambervale tensed. 'Ungoliria' was a great insult among gray elves. It meant barbarian or 'unsightly one'. Whats worse, he recognized the voice without having to open his eyes. It was Noostari ('subofficer' or 'sergeant') Norran, out on patrol with his ntjssemi 'half-company' of eight fighters and two wizards.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>As the healing potion absorbed into his body, Willambervale opened his eyes and looked up at the officer with a blank expression. The sergeant was his elder by at least two hundred years, one of the most senior officers of such low rank currently serving in the army. Norran had a sharp tongue and a reputation for harsh discipline, as might be expected of any sergeant, but there was also an underlying bitterness and cruelty to his manner that made him a most wearisome officer to serve under. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>There were a lot of rumors about Norran and past misdeeds, or misfortunes, that might explain his attitude problem. Whatever those were of course, Willambervale had no doubts they had nothing to do with him. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Willambervale:</strong> <span style="color: #ff0000">"Come for a drink sir?" </span>He asked calmly in a flat tone that sounded more like a statement than a question. Willambervale knew the officer drank a great deal more than he let on. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Norran bristled. <span style="color: #800000">"Watch it!"</span> He stated, stepping forward just as Willambervale straightened up in his seat. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Such outbursts of emotion were of course unseemly for a doulathan, but Willambervale expected nothing less from Norran. Will felt much better now, and with that clarity, the blurriness of his vision cleared up enough to note how young and green the soldiers were lined up in double-file formation behind Norran. How terrified they must be! Once He stood in their place marching on patrol behind this sour veteran. Norran was rarely capable of controlling his anger which meant he was both easily manipulated, and prone to mistakes.</em></p><p> <em></em></p><p><em>Norran leaned down resting his gauntlet on the edge of the table as if he might have a mind to throw a cup of wine in his face. <span style="color: #800000">"I don't even want to hear a 'sir' from the likes of you Willambervale. You're pathetic! A drunk! A failure, a disgrace!"</span> </em></p><p><em> </em></p><p><em><strong>Willambervale:</strong> Frowned. <span style="color: #ff0000">"And a coward, don't forget that one."</span></em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Norran:</strong> <span style="color: #800000">"Yes a coward!"</span> He spat just as Willambervale smoothly stood bumping up the edge of the table up with his elbow as he did.</em></p><p><em> </em></p><p><em>The table immediately tipped under Norran's armored weight. The sergeant lost his balance, falling down in a heap with the table just as all the dirty cutlery, mugs and cups clattered on top of him staining his officers cloak. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>A murmur of shock burst from the new recruits as Norran began to shout explatives worthy of an Orc. Willambervale knealt down to assist the sergeant. <span style="color: #ff0000">"You ok Sir?" </span></em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Norran:</strong> <span style="color: #800000">"GET BACK VARYAMORI</span></em><em><span style="color: #800000">!"</span> He cursed, scrambling to his feet with a face bright red in anger. <span style="color: #800000">"I'll have you in irons for this!"</span> He seethed between his teeth. 'Varyamori' was another term of ridicule that meant strange black hair.</em></p><p><em> </em></p><p><em><strong>Willambervale:</strong> Blinked. <span style="color: #ff0000">"For what sir?" </span>He said ignoring the remark about his hair color.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em></em><img src="https://i.imgur.com/K0JwHjb.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /><em></em></p><p> <em></em></p><p><em><strong>Norran:</strong> Gritted his teeth together but had nothing more to say, turning abruptly and shouting <span style="color: #800000">"MARCH!"</span> to the recruits who almost tripped over themselves to get moving.</em></p><p> <em></em></p><p><em>Willambervale stood for a minute, taking a deep breath as he watched them head out into the forest. <span style="color: #ff0000">~Woe upon the foe they come across today!~</span> He sighed. A part of him missed the army. Willambervale never complained about the risks as a soldier. Defending this great city and its good people was an honorable duty, perhaps the most honorable thing he'd ever done. He would have continued to serve with pride if 'the incident' had not saw him discharged over four years ago.</em></p><p> <em></em></p><p><em>Norran of course wasn't interested in the truth of what happened, nor even that his discharge was an honorable one. He only saw what he wanted to see, another convenient target for his ire and haughty attitude. Of course Willambervale <u>wanted</u> to loose his temper with Norran, as he normally would with anyone who disrespected him, but it was a pointless fight with lasting consequences only for himself.</em></p><p> <em></em></p><p><em>Willambervale's penchant for impulsive behavior did not serve him well in doulathan society. Usually if anyone was likely to be a scapegoat or a target of ridicule, it was him. For the most part, he moved on past it, yet there were some days when lack of purpose stirred a deep melancholy in his soul. At such times he was prone to falling into bad habits and bad company. He'd participated in more than a few brawls at other taverns. Now more than ever he did his best to keep himself in check. Besides, he'd got the final word in on Norran anyway. He smirked, turning towards the entrance to the <strong>Misty Brew Tavern</strong>.</em></p><p><em> </em></p><p><em>The Misty Brew was once the manor home of a famous rentaliniena 'high talent' half-elven alchemist named Morxalim</em><em> who employed several assistants who were either half-elves or non elves entirely. After his untimely death, </em><em>Morxalim</em><em> left his home and all his property to them. None had the talent to take over his trade so instead of continuing to practice alchemy they remodeled his home into a tavern. What little alchemy they still practiced they used to add some flair to the decor and the drinks themselves.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Willambervale pushed his way in through the front door and was nearly toppled by one of the Cooshee's (Elven Hounds) who barelled into him affectionately. These hounds stood almost shoulder level with most elves and weighed at least as much as two.</em></p><p> <em></em></p><p><em><strong>Willambervale:</strong> <span style="color: #ff0000">"Careful Blackpaw!" </span>He grunted, reaching down to pet the animals forehead affectionately. The canine had dark grey fur, but his paws and spots along his back and forehead were black.</em></p><p> <em></em></p><p><em><span style="color: #8b4513">"Don't even think about coming in here without picking up that mess outside!"</span> The stern voice of Liandra scolded him from behind the bar. Though twice as old as Willambervale, the fact she was half-elven meant she looked far older than most elves. Her hair was almost white, her face and hands textured with fine wrinkles, yet her spirit, and her voice, were as strong as ever.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Willambervale:</strong> Flinched. <span style="color: #ff0000">"Sorry, I, err..."</span><span style="color: #4b0082"></span></em></p><p><em><span style="color: #4b0082"></span></em></p><p><em><strong>Liandra:</strong> <span style="color: #8b4513">"You think a few silvers entitles you to make a mess of the place do ya?"</span></em></p><p><em><strong></strong></em></p><p><em><strong>Willambervale:</strong> <span style="color: #ff0000">"No, I just thought..."</span></em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Liandra:</strong> <span style="color: #8b4513">"You good for nothing scoundrel! I'll let the city watch drag you away next time you decided to sleep outside like a common beggar. How'd that be?!"</span></em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Willambervale:</strong> Frowned. He knew better than to argue with her. This was a battle of wills he would loose. <span style="color: #ff0000">"I'll be right back..." </span>He muttered, moving back to the table out front with Blackpaw at his heels. Will grabbed the table, righting it before kneeling down to gather up the mess. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Blackpaw sniffed at the ground. <span style="color: #ff0000">"Sorry I wasn't thinking of you when I let the scraps fall into the dirt." </span>Willambervale apologized to the dog.</em></p><p> <em></em></p><p><em>However he soon realized Blackpaw wasn't sniffing at scraps but rather some sort of small grey object, roughly the size and shape of an egg affixed to a broken cord. Willambervale paused, lifting the object free of the dirt by the cord. Blackpaw sniffed at it again and immediately started growling, backing away.</em></p><p> <em></em></p><p><em>Willambervale stared at the egg with surprise for a few long moments, having never seen its like before. Questions and concerns rushed through his mind. <span style="color: #ff0000">~What is this?! Did Norran drop it?!~ </span></em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em></em><img src="https://i.imgur.com/1fmRMn7.png?2" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /><em></em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>As blackpaw started snarling and barking Willambervale quickly covered the object with a discarded cloth napkin and stuffed it into his pocket. Blackpaw seemed to calm down not being able to see or smell the object very clearly. Willambervale wasn't sure which, but he trusted the instincts of elven hounds. They served his people exceptionally well as guard animals.</em></p><p> <em></em></p><p><em>Moments later, Willambervale carried the sloppy stack of cutlery, wooden cups, bowls and plates inside back with him, placing them on the bar in front of Liandra as respectfully as he could while she watched him like a hawk.</em></p><p> <em></em></p><p><em><strong>Liandra:</strong> <span style="color: #8b4513">"Something wrong?"</span> She asked with a prying, somewhat motherly tone. She'd known Willambervale a long time. Long enough to know when something was off. The truth was she cared for him almost like a son, though she'd never admit that to anyone, him least of all.</em></p><p> <em></em></p><p><em><strong>Willambervale:</strong> <span style="color: #ff0000">"I just feel a bit ill." </span>He lied</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Liandra:</strong> <span style="color: #8b4513">"You better not be insinuating something was wrong with my cooking?! Now go wash up, I'll have breakfast ready soon."</span></em></p><p> <em></em></p><p><em>Willambervale moved towards the staircase where the communal washroom was located upstairs. He paid for a room here often enough to think of it as home, but right now he felt anything but comfortable.</em></p><p> <em></em></p><p><em>Once inside the washroom he splashed cold water on his face, scrubbing any lingering sleepiness out of his eyes. Then he quickly pulled the object out of his pocket and unwrapped it, holding it up in front of the mirror. Thought it had the shape of an egg it was heavier, roughly the weight of stone, though it was not exactly stone. What it was made of exactly was difficult to guess. It wasn't quite as smooth as metal or ceramic. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>The scattered set of facial features spread randomly across its surface were finely shaped, giving the item a rather disconcertingly realistic quality. <span style="color: #ff0000">~What in the hells is it?~</span> He asked himself, moving his hand in the workings of a familiar spell... Detect Magic.</em></p><p> <em></em></p><p><em>Willambervale studied as an apprentice to Telerai Ghostcloak, a powerful doulathan Wizard for four years. He was easily capable of interpreting whatever magical aura(s) this ...thing might possess. Yet no sooner did the spell leave his lips that something altogether different and surprising occured. The egg opened one of its eyes, staring back at him!</em></p><p> <em></em></p><p><em>Willambervale gasped, almost dropping it, tempted instinctively to smash it to bits. But then just as suddenly, the eye shut again before he could truly react or even assure himself he wasn't imagining things. Meanwhile, after several further tense moments passed, the magic of the spell seemingly failed, revealing no magic aura's of any kind. <span style="color: #ff0000">~How can that be?!~</span> Willambervale pondered. He was certain he saw it open one of its eyes. <span style="color: #ff0000">"I'm not loosing my mind!"</span> He exclaimed under his breath. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>[Willambervale:</strong> What do you do?<strong>]</strong> </em></p><p><em></em></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="narayan, post: 7556620, member: 6677509"] [b]Willambervale Somberthaine[/b] [IMG]https://i.imgur.com/aGE5OlEh.png[/IMG]:yawn: [IMG]https://i.imgur.com/BAS81eih.png[/IMG] [I]Near the outskirts of the fabled gray elven city of Doulathanorian, Willambervale Somberthaine felt the warmth of the sun wake him from a dreamless sleep. Moments later, the painful cramp in his neck, the aching hangover in his skull and the familiar hard surface pressed up against his cheek reminded him where he was. [COLOR=#ff0000]~Must have been another fun night...~[/COLOR] he remarked to himself. Slowly with some effort, a wincing expression and a shallow groan, Willambervale lifted his head off the table outside his favorite tavern. The pain throbbing behind his temples intensified, as did a sudden sense of diziness. Cautiously he began to open his eyes, but the very glimpse of sunlight felt like needles and he promptly shut them again. [COLOR=#ff0000]~Oh yes you had fun alright~[/COLOR], he chided himself, fumbling around his belt pouches for a healing potion. Such a use of healing magic was a waste to be sure, but not all hangovers were created equal and doulathan like himself (gray elves) were not known for strong constitutions. [COLOR=#ff0000]~I should have listened when they warned me off the tieflings wine...~ [/COLOR] Willambervale pulled aside his midnight blue cloak, patting around his belt wrapped around a mithral chain shirt pulling a few vials out of a pouch. He felt over them with his fingertips until he found the head of a single pin protruding from one of the corks. Marking vials of healing potions this way was useful, just in case he was blinded in battle. Two pins would mean vials of anti-toxin, three pins would mean oil of daylight... essential in combat against Drow who were fond of poisons and darkness spells. This was standard training for the doulathan army of course, in which he served as a footman for eight years. [COLOR=#ff0000]~Old habits die hard eh?~[/COLOR] ...was a human expression he liked. Willambervale popped the vial open and gulped it down just as the sound of approaching footsteps drew near. [COLOR=#800000]"Well-well-well, look at this ungoliria! I shant say I should be surprised."[/COLOR] A curt voice spit towards him at a distance of a few paces. (speaking elvish) Willambervale tensed. 'Ungoliria' was a great insult among gray elves. It meant barbarian or 'unsightly one'. Whats worse, he recognized the voice without having to open his eyes. It was Noostari ('subofficer' or 'sergeant') Norran, out on patrol with his ntjssemi 'half-company' of eight fighters and two wizards. As the healing potion absorbed into his body, Willambervale opened his eyes and looked up at the officer with a blank expression. The sergeant was his elder by at least two hundred years, one of the most senior officers of such low rank currently serving in the army. Norran had a sharp tongue and a reputation for harsh discipline, as might be expected of any sergeant, but there was also an underlying bitterness and cruelty to his manner that made him a most wearisome officer to serve under. There were a lot of rumors about Norran and past misdeeds, or misfortunes, that might explain his attitude problem. Whatever those were of course, Willambervale had no doubts they had nothing to do with him. [B]Willambervale:[/B] [COLOR=#ff0000]"Come for a drink sir?" [/COLOR]He asked calmly in a flat tone that sounded more like a statement than a question. Willambervale knew the officer drank a great deal more than he let on. Norran bristled. [COLOR=#800000]"Watch it!"[/COLOR] He stated, stepping forward just as Willambervale straightened up in his seat. Such outbursts of emotion were of course unseemly for a doulathan, but Willambervale expected nothing less from Norran. Will felt much better now, and with that clarity, the blurriness of his vision cleared up enough to note how young and green the soldiers were lined up in double-file formation behind Norran. How terrified they must be! Once He stood in their place marching on patrol behind this sour veteran. Norran was rarely capable of controlling his anger which meant he was both easily manipulated, and prone to mistakes. Norran leaned down resting his gauntlet on the edge of the table as if he might have a mind to throw a cup of wine in his face. [COLOR=#800000]"I don't even want to hear a 'sir' from the likes of you Willambervale. You're pathetic! A drunk! A failure, a disgrace!"[/COLOR] [B]Willambervale:[/B] Frowned. [COLOR=#ff0000]"And a coward, don't forget that one."[/COLOR] [B]Norran:[/B] [COLOR=#800000]"Yes a coward!"[/COLOR] He spat just as Willambervale smoothly stood bumping up the edge of the table up with his elbow as he did. The table immediately tipped under Norran's armored weight. The sergeant lost his balance, falling down in a heap with the table just as all the dirty cutlery, mugs and cups clattered on top of him staining his officers cloak. A murmur of shock burst from the new recruits as Norran began to shout explatives worthy of an Orc. Willambervale knealt down to assist the sergeant. [COLOR=#ff0000]"You ok Sir?" [/COLOR] [B]Norran:[/B] [COLOR=#800000]"GET BACK VARYAMORI[/COLOR][/I][I][COLOR=#800000]!"[/COLOR] He cursed, scrambling to his feet with a face bright red in anger. [COLOR=#800000]"I'll have you in irons for this!"[/COLOR] He seethed between his teeth. 'Varyamori' was another term of ridicule that meant strange black hair. [B]Willambervale:[/B] Blinked. [COLOR=#ff0000]"For what sir?" [/COLOR]He said ignoring the remark about his hair color. [/I][IMG]https://i.imgur.com/K0JwHjb.jpg[/IMG][I] [B]Norran:[/B] Gritted his teeth together but had nothing more to say, turning abruptly and shouting [COLOR=#800000]"MARCH!"[/COLOR] to the recruits who almost tripped over themselves to get moving. Willambervale stood for a minute, taking a deep breath as he watched them head out into the forest. [COLOR=#ff0000]~Woe upon the foe they come across today!~[/COLOR] He sighed. A part of him missed the army. Willambervale never complained about the risks as a soldier. Defending this great city and its good people was an honorable duty, perhaps the most honorable thing he'd ever done. He would have continued to serve with pride if 'the incident' had not saw him discharged over four years ago. Norran of course wasn't interested in the truth of what happened, nor even that his discharge was an honorable one. He only saw what he wanted to see, another convenient target for his ire and haughty attitude. Of course Willambervale [U]wanted[/U] to loose his temper with Norran, as he normally would with anyone who disrespected him, but it was a pointless fight with lasting consequences only for himself. Willambervale's penchant for impulsive behavior did not serve him well in doulathan society. Usually if anyone was likely to be a scapegoat or a target of ridicule, it was him. For the most part, he moved on past it, yet there were some days when lack of purpose stirred a deep melancholy in his soul. At such times he was prone to falling into bad habits and bad company. He'd participated in more than a few brawls at other taverns. Now more than ever he did his best to keep himself in check. Besides, he'd got the final word in on Norran anyway. He smirked, turning towards the entrance to the [B]Misty Brew Tavern[/B]. The Misty Brew was once the manor home of a famous rentaliniena 'high talent' half-elven alchemist named Morxalim[/I][I] who employed several assistants who were either half-elves or non elves entirely. After his untimely death, [/I][I]Morxalim[/I][I] left his home and all his property to them. None had the talent to take over his trade so instead of continuing to practice alchemy they remodeled his home into a tavern. What little alchemy they still practiced they used to add some flair to the decor and the drinks themselves. Willambervale pushed his way in through the front door and was nearly toppled by one of the Cooshee's (Elven Hounds) who barelled into him affectionately. These hounds stood almost shoulder level with most elves and weighed at least as much as two. [B]Willambervale:[/B] [COLOR=#ff0000]"Careful Blackpaw!" [/COLOR]He grunted, reaching down to pet the animals forehead affectionately. The canine had dark grey fur, but his paws and spots along his back and forehead were black. [COLOR=#8b4513]"Don't even think about coming in here without picking up that mess outside!"[/COLOR] The stern voice of Liandra scolded him from behind the bar. Though twice as old as Willambervale, the fact she was half-elven meant she looked far older than most elves. Her hair was almost white, her face and hands textured with fine wrinkles, yet her spirit, and her voice, were as strong as ever. [B]Willambervale:[/B] Flinched. [COLOR=#ff0000]"Sorry, I, err..."[/COLOR][COLOR=#4b0082] [/COLOR] [B]Liandra:[/B] [COLOR=#8b4513]"You think a few silvers entitles you to make a mess of the place do ya?"[/COLOR] [B] Willambervale:[/B] [COLOR=#ff0000]"No, I just thought..."[/COLOR] [B]Liandra:[/B] [COLOR=#8b4513]"You good for nothing scoundrel! I'll let the city watch drag you away next time you decided to sleep outside like a common beggar. How'd that be?!"[/COLOR] [B]Willambervale:[/B] Frowned. He knew better than to argue with her. This was a battle of wills he would loose. [COLOR=#ff0000]"I'll be right back..." [/COLOR]He muttered, moving back to the table out front with Blackpaw at his heels. Will grabbed the table, righting it before kneeling down to gather up the mess. Blackpaw sniffed at the ground. [COLOR=#ff0000]"Sorry I wasn't thinking of you when I let the scraps fall into the dirt." [/COLOR]Willambervale apologized to the dog. However he soon realized Blackpaw wasn't sniffing at scraps but rather some sort of small grey object, roughly the size and shape of an egg affixed to a broken cord. Willambervale paused, lifting the object free of the dirt by the cord. Blackpaw sniffed at it again and immediately started growling, backing away. Willambervale stared at the egg with surprise for a few long moments, having never seen its like before. Questions and concerns rushed through his mind. [COLOR=#ff0000]~What is this?! Did Norran drop it?!~ [/COLOR] [/I][IMG]https://i.imgur.com/1fmRMn7.png?2[/IMG][I] As blackpaw started snarling and barking Willambervale quickly covered the object with a discarded cloth napkin and stuffed it into his pocket. Blackpaw seemed to calm down not being able to see or smell the object very clearly. Willambervale wasn't sure which, but he trusted the instincts of elven hounds. They served his people exceptionally well as guard animals. Moments later, Willambervale carried the sloppy stack of cutlery, wooden cups, bowls and plates inside back with him, placing them on the bar in front of Liandra as respectfully as he could while she watched him like a hawk. [B]Liandra:[/B] [COLOR=#8b4513]"Something wrong?"[/COLOR] She asked with a prying, somewhat motherly tone. She'd known Willambervale a long time. Long enough to know when something was off. The truth was she cared for him almost like a son, though she'd never admit that to anyone, him least of all. [B]Willambervale:[/B] [COLOR=#ff0000]"I just feel a bit ill." [/COLOR]He lied [B]Liandra:[/B] [COLOR=#8b4513]"You better not be insinuating something was wrong with my cooking?! Now go wash up, I'll have breakfast ready soon."[/COLOR] Willambervale moved towards the staircase where the communal washroom was located upstairs. He paid for a room here often enough to think of it as home, but right now he felt anything but comfortable. Once inside the washroom he splashed cold water on his face, scrubbing any lingering sleepiness out of his eyes. Then he quickly pulled the object out of his pocket and unwrapped it, holding it up in front of the mirror. Thought it had the shape of an egg it was heavier, roughly the weight of stone, though it was not exactly stone. What it was made of exactly was difficult to guess. It wasn't quite as smooth as metal or ceramic. The scattered set of facial features spread randomly across its surface were finely shaped, giving the item a rather disconcertingly realistic quality. [COLOR=#ff0000]~What in the hells is it?~[/COLOR] He asked himself, moving his hand in the workings of a familiar spell... Detect Magic. Willambervale studied as an apprentice to Telerai Ghostcloak, a powerful doulathan Wizard for four years. He was easily capable of interpreting whatever magical aura(s) this ...thing might possess. Yet no sooner did the spell leave his lips that something altogether different and surprising occured. The egg opened one of its eyes, staring back at him! Willambervale gasped, almost dropping it, tempted instinctively to smash it to bits. But then just as suddenly, the eye shut again before he could truly react or even assure himself he wasn't imagining things. Meanwhile, after several further tense moments passed, the magic of the spell seemingly failed, revealing no magic aura's of any kind. [COLOR=#ff0000]~How can that be?!~[/COLOR] Willambervale pondered. He was certain he saw it open one of its eyes. [COLOR=#ff0000]"I'm not loosing my mind!"[/COLOR] He exclaimed under his breath. [B][Willambervale:[/B] What do you do?[B]][/B] [/I] [/QUOTE]
Insert quotes…
Verification
Post reply
Community
Playing the Game
Play by Post
Kingdoms of Kalamar; Rancor of the Unholy - Act 1: Scene 1
Top