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Realms of Enlightenment: The Grey Companions (final update posted 02.14.10)
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<blockquote data-quote="Jon Potter" data-source="post: 4938683" data-attributes="member: 2323"><p><strong>[PLAIN][Realms #487] One Last Zinger[/PLAIN]</strong></p><p></p><p>Cerrakean turned over what looked like a small brazier with the toe of her boot and snorted, "I'll be outside enjoying the local color. I'm not much of one for picking through trash." K'ree gave the hobgoblin a withering look and Cerrakean grinned back. "No offense, darling."</p><p></p><p>"J'inn and I will introduce you," J'ann said, motioning for the door. Cerrakean nodded and moved in that direction. Just before she and the twins stepped outside, she asked, "So you boys have anything to drink around here?"</p><p></p><p>"Maybe I should keep an eye on her," Grandfather Plaque suggested to Morier. "I cannot see myself having need of anything I might uncover here." The albino nodded his agreement.</p><p></p><p>"Just make sure she doesn't insult anyone too badly," he told the construct.</p><p></p><p>"And don't let her get into any fights," Del added as Grandfather Plaque headed out into the perpetual twilight.</p><p></p><p>"What about the rest of you?" K'ree asked. "Are you going to look through my husband's things or did you just stop by to criticize the wares?"</p><p></p><p>"Morier, I do suggest you look for a blade," Maleko said as Ayremac approached K'ree to make some diplomatic overtures. "As much as I doubt I will use it, I do need to get my sword back from you. I find that even if one wears the robes of a sorcerer, the fact that one carries a sword is a deterent to trouble. Brigands seem to understand that better."</p><p></p><p>"I wouldn't mind a magic sword, if one were laying about unclaimed," Del admitted, his eyes moving across the haphazard collection of merchandise. "I don't have much by way of coin, though."</p><p></p><p>"She did mention trade did she not?" Morier said and unslung his <em>Valiant Vessel</em> bag. He flicked the clasp and began to empty the contents of the Handy Haversack into the center of the floor, amazed as always at the volume of material that poured forth: weapons, scrolls, various and sundry clothing and other more... personal... items that Morier was unaware Huzair had squirrelled away. When the bag finally seemed as though it had given up its full bounty, three final rolls of parchment tied together with a single red string thrust themseleves into Morier's hand and the bag exhaled a sigh of relief. These parchments felt thicker and more worn than the others, so Morier curiously untied them, suddenly hopeful that he had found some piece of Huzair that would trigger a memory. He missed his friend, and noted sadly that he was already starting to lose the memory of his voice.</p><p></p><p>Morier unfurled the scrolls with an almost childlike enthusiasm, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. Rather than a set of unfinished letters or a personal journal though, he found himself holding up a series of nude figure drawings he instantly recognized as Ledare, Hildegunna, Ixin, Shamalin, and Anania. He was suddenly very aware of the many eyes fixed on him, watching to see what he had been so eager to uncover, and he now found himself searching in vain for a plausible way to talk his way out of the perfect parting shot from the master of parting shots. He half expected Huzair's near-maniacal laughter to shatter the silence, but it never came. Instead the hush hung heavier with each passing second.</p><p></p><p>"I..." Morier struggled to explain as he felt his face grow hot. "These are... not... You see..." </p><p></p><p>“Morier, there is no reason to be bashful," Ayremac said, stepping up behind the eldritch warrior. He took the parchment from Morier's hands and glanced at the top one approvingly. "You seem to be a talented artist… although…” He eyed the second drawing more closely and withdrew with a raised eyebrow. “Is that Shamalin?? and…” Turning to Ixin he felt color touching his own cheeks. “Oh, my… well… I, uh… okay…” The drawings seemed very wrong suddenly and he thrust them away into the first pair of hands willing to take them. Then he turned his full attention to examining a stack of tattered books on the far side of the room.</p><p></p><p>Ixin looked at the drawings Ayremac had given her and she shuffled through the curled parchment scrolls. She recognized all of the subjects apart from Hildegunna and she stopped at last on the image of herself, as she had been. The drawing showed her seated from the rear, half-turned to display a wide muscular back. Her wings were folded neatly and her dorsal scales were meticulously rendered. Her face was in profile, her expression confident and serene.</p><p></p><p>Ixin looked up at Morier then with tears coming to her eyes.</p><p></p><p>"I did not draw those, Ixin," Morier said quickly. "It was Huzair. Not me."</p><p></p><p>"Sure..." she said through a voice heavy with emotion. "Blame the dead guy." She took the drawing of herself and handed the rest to Maleko before stepping outside.</p><p></p><p>The elf looked at the drawing of Shamalin on top without recognition. She was just a half-elven maid apparently bathing in a shallow stream. The picture was quite lovely really, although there was a sort of haunted sadness in the woman's eyes that the artist had captured perfectly.</p><p></p><p>"What a talented artist Huzair was. I bet he could have made a fine living working in that field. Kind of a Selejian influence, with the ultra-realism, I see," Maleko observed with an appreciative nod. "You can practically count the hairs on-"</p><p></p><p>Maleko stopped suddenly. He recognized Ledare's face on the page, even if he had never seen the janissary in such a position or such a state of undress. He quickly shuffled to the next drawing, a human female he did not recognize with a prominent jaw and pale hair worn in thick plaits that fell across her shoulders and down to her-</p><p></p><p>Del's sudden intake of breath at his shoulder made Maleko shuffle on to the last picture: a wood elf looking directly at the viewer with her arms raised as she buried her hands in her thick hair.</p><p></p><p>Del fixed Morier with a hard look, considering for the first time all that these drawings might imply. Morier held up his hands meekly.</p><p></p><p>"Truly, I did not draw those," the albino assured him and Del considered. He decided that he'd have to accept that there was a story waiting to be told about these drawings: one that he had to be willing to hear if he wanted to know the details of Ledare's past.</p><p></p><p>"I believe you," Del said simply and without looking at them too closely took the drawings of Ledare and Hildegunna, rolled them together and slipped them out of sight. Then he nodded and busied himself looking at the broken golem.</p><p></p><p>Maleko saw Del draw out his flask and upend it into his mouth. The elf shook his head, looked down at the two remaining drawings - elf and half-elf - and shook his head again. He rolled them up and presented them back to Morier.</p><p>"You should be ashamed of yourself for keeping those pictures," he admonished. "Especially out of respect for your deceased friends' modesty."</p><p></p><p>"If I'd known they were there, do you think I'd have pulled them out for everyone to see?" Morier said, loud enough for all those present to hear. "Huzair had too much time on his hands. The way he always talked, I thought he was scribing scrolls all the time, not... not this." He tossed the drawings of Shamalin and Anania back onto the pile of gear he'd poured from the <em>Handy Haversack</em>.</p><p></p><p>"Well, I would be interested in buying some of these scrolls perhaps," Maleko said, picking up a scroll of <em>Cause Fear</em> at random. Morier made a dismissing gesture.</p><p></p><p>"Take them," the eldritch warrior said. "If you can use them, they're yours." Maleko shook his head.</p><p></p><p>"It is only fair that I should pay for them," Maleko observed, drawing his coin purse from his robes. "I could not accept these scrolls for free when you are in need of a fine sword to do your work." Morier looked at the elf and nodded.</p><p></p><p>"Right," he said, looking around at the piles of bric-a-brac. "A sword..."</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Jon Potter, post: 4938683, member: 2323"] [b][PLAIN][Realms #487] One Last Zinger[/PLAIN][/b] Cerrakean turned over what looked like a small brazier with the toe of her boot and snorted, "I'll be outside enjoying the local color. I'm not much of one for picking through trash." K'ree gave the hobgoblin a withering look and Cerrakean grinned back. "No offense, darling." "J'inn and I will introduce you," J'ann said, motioning for the door. Cerrakean nodded and moved in that direction. Just before she and the twins stepped outside, she asked, "So you boys have anything to drink around here?" "Maybe I should keep an eye on her," Grandfather Plaque suggested to Morier. "I cannot see myself having need of anything I might uncover here." The albino nodded his agreement. "Just make sure she doesn't insult anyone too badly," he told the construct. "And don't let her get into any fights," Del added as Grandfather Plaque headed out into the perpetual twilight. "What about the rest of you?" K'ree asked. "Are you going to look through my husband's things or did you just stop by to criticize the wares?" "Morier, I do suggest you look for a blade," Maleko said as Ayremac approached K'ree to make some diplomatic overtures. "As much as I doubt I will use it, I do need to get my sword back from you. I find that even if one wears the robes of a sorcerer, the fact that one carries a sword is a deterent to trouble. Brigands seem to understand that better." "I wouldn't mind a magic sword, if one were laying about unclaimed," Del admitted, his eyes moving across the haphazard collection of merchandise. "I don't have much by way of coin, though." "She did mention trade did she not?" Morier said and unslung his [i]Valiant Vessel[/i] bag. He flicked the clasp and began to empty the contents of the Handy Haversack into the center of the floor, amazed as always at the volume of material that poured forth: weapons, scrolls, various and sundry clothing and other more... personal... items that Morier was unaware Huzair had squirrelled away. When the bag finally seemed as though it had given up its full bounty, three final rolls of parchment tied together with a single red string thrust themseleves into Morier's hand and the bag exhaled a sigh of relief. These parchments felt thicker and more worn than the others, so Morier curiously untied them, suddenly hopeful that he had found some piece of Huzair that would trigger a memory. He missed his friend, and noted sadly that he was already starting to lose the memory of his voice. Morier unfurled the scrolls with an almost childlike enthusiasm, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. Rather than a set of unfinished letters or a personal journal though, he found himself holding up a series of nude figure drawings he instantly recognized as Ledare, Hildegunna, Ixin, Shamalin, and Anania. He was suddenly very aware of the many eyes fixed on him, watching to see what he had been so eager to uncover, and he now found himself searching in vain for a plausible way to talk his way out of the perfect parting shot from the master of parting shots. He half expected Huzair's near-maniacal laughter to shatter the silence, but it never came. Instead the hush hung heavier with each passing second. "I..." Morier struggled to explain as he felt his face grow hot. "These are... not... You see..." “Morier, there is no reason to be bashful," Ayremac said, stepping up behind the eldritch warrior. He took the parchment from Morier's hands and glanced at the top one approvingly. "You seem to be a talented artist… although…” He eyed the second drawing more closely and withdrew with a raised eyebrow. “Is that Shamalin?? and…” Turning to Ixin he felt color touching his own cheeks. “Oh, my… well… I, uh… okay…” The drawings seemed very wrong suddenly and he thrust them away into the first pair of hands willing to take them. Then he turned his full attention to examining a stack of tattered books on the far side of the room. Ixin looked at the drawings Ayremac had given her and she shuffled through the curled parchment scrolls. She recognized all of the subjects apart from Hildegunna and she stopped at last on the image of herself, as she had been. The drawing showed her seated from the rear, half-turned to display a wide muscular back. Her wings were folded neatly and her dorsal scales were meticulously rendered. Her face was in profile, her expression confident and serene. Ixin looked up at Morier then with tears coming to her eyes. "I did not draw those, Ixin," Morier said quickly. "It was Huzair. Not me." "Sure..." she said through a voice heavy with emotion. "Blame the dead guy." She took the drawing of herself and handed the rest to Maleko before stepping outside. The elf looked at the drawing of Shamalin on top without recognition. She was just a half-elven maid apparently bathing in a shallow stream. The picture was quite lovely really, although there was a sort of haunted sadness in the woman's eyes that the artist had captured perfectly. "What a talented artist Huzair was. I bet he could have made a fine living working in that field. Kind of a Selejian influence, with the ultra-realism, I see," Maleko observed with an appreciative nod. "You can practically count the hairs on-" Maleko stopped suddenly. He recognized Ledare's face on the page, even if he had never seen the janissary in such a position or such a state of undress. He quickly shuffled to the next drawing, a human female he did not recognize with a prominent jaw and pale hair worn in thick plaits that fell across her shoulders and down to her- Del's sudden intake of breath at his shoulder made Maleko shuffle on to the last picture: a wood elf looking directly at the viewer with her arms raised as she buried her hands in her thick hair. Del fixed Morier with a hard look, considering for the first time all that these drawings might imply. Morier held up his hands meekly. "Truly, I did not draw those," the albino assured him and Del considered. He decided that he'd have to accept that there was a story waiting to be told about these drawings: one that he had to be willing to hear if he wanted to know the details of Ledare's past. "I believe you," Del said simply and without looking at them too closely took the drawings of Ledare and Hildegunna, rolled them together and slipped them out of sight. Then he nodded and busied himself looking at the broken golem. Maleko saw Del draw out his flask and upend it into his mouth. The elf shook his head, looked down at the two remaining drawings - elf and half-elf - and shook his head again. He rolled them up and presented them back to Morier. "You should be ashamed of yourself for keeping those pictures," he admonished. "Especially out of respect for your deceased friends' modesty." "If I'd known they were there, do you think I'd have pulled them out for everyone to see?" Morier said, loud enough for all those present to hear. "Huzair had too much time on his hands. The way he always talked, I thought he was scribing scrolls all the time, not... not this." He tossed the drawings of Shamalin and Anania back onto the pile of gear he'd poured from the [i]Handy Haversack[/i]. "Well, I would be interested in buying some of these scrolls perhaps," Maleko said, picking up a scroll of [i]Cause Fear[/i] at random. Morier made a dismissing gesture. "Take them," the eldritch warrior said. "If you can use them, they're yours." Maleko shook his head. "It is only fair that I should pay for them," Maleko observed, drawing his coin purse from his robes. "I could not accept these scrolls for free when you are in need of a fine sword to do your work." Morier looked at the elf and nodded. "Right," he said, looking around at the piles of bric-a-brac. "A sword..." [/QUOTE]
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