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Valley of the Dead: Chapter 2 "Home of the sleepless"
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<blockquote data-quote="Malachei" data-source="post: 5350231" data-attributes="member: 38657"><p>Lórquelië had declined the offered bed. Instead, she knelt cross-legged in the large, dark hall, her eyes closed, and her thoughts far, far away. She had not expected much aid from the human, but the Paladin’s knowing, yet tacit smile was irritating to her. At last, her senses closed, and her mind opened, wandered, a bird’s flight over the dark green, dense forests, the light glades with grass still touched by autumn’s dew and the silvery lakes reflecting the moon in their crystal clear essence. The air is cool and fresh and full of clarity. White mists caress her steps, gently swirling wherever she sets foot. She takes in the air with deep breaths, full of memory of the summer fading. Her face shows on the lake’s surface, playfully moving with the slow and steady rythm of ist shore. Wondering, she looks down at herself, her eyes seeking. She sees joy echoing, and she can feel life. Her heart flies, elevated, and she almost trembles, closing her eyes, breathing deeply, relishing the moment, feeling her own heart beat, and the echo. Then she feels the cold. Whirling around, she senses the shadow before her eyes open. Her hand raises, her spirit reaches out for the arcane...</p><p></p><p>„... arcane magic?“ the words resound in her mind. <em>The shadow...</em> – her eyes slits of anger, her voice a snapping <span style="color: Orange">„What?“</span> as she rises. No, Lórquelië Coranarya was not used to being called <em>Miss</em> by anyone, least a mortal man, but the ire’s source was born within herself.</p><p></p><p>She takes a moment to regain her calm, overlooking the strange assembly. After a long pause, she states <span style="color: Orange">„Very well, then.“</span> Her nod towards the Paladin is not reaching an implied bow, as she walks over to the group with a long, graceful stride. She halts to stand slightly off, an apparition in her white silken robes, whose layers are still flying from her swift arrival. Her amber eyes travel the other volunteers, her gaze stalling on the halfling and then locking, almost staring at the sight of the half-orc. Finally, she looks away into the dark, as she introduces herself with a frozen voice <span style="color: DarkOrange">"Lórquelië Coranarya."</span></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Malachei, post: 5350231, member: 38657"] Lórquelië had declined the offered bed. Instead, she knelt cross-legged in the large, dark hall, her eyes closed, and her thoughts far, far away. She had not expected much aid from the human, but the Paladin’s knowing, yet tacit smile was irritating to her. At last, her senses closed, and her mind opened, wandered, a bird’s flight over the dark green, dense forests, the light glades with grass still touched by autumn’s dew and the silvery lakes reflecting the moon in their crystal clear essence. The air is cool and fresh and full of clarity. White mists caress her steps, gently swirling wherever she sets foot. She takes in the air with deep breaths, full of memory of the summer fading. Her face shows on the lake’s surface, playfully moving with the slow and steady rythm of ist shore. Wondering, she looks down at herself, her eyes seeking. She sees joy echoing, and she can feel life. Her heart flies, elevated, and she almost trembles, closing her eyes, breathing deeply, relishing the moment, feeling her own heart beat, and the echo. Then she feels the cold. Whirling around, she senses the shadow before her eyes open. Her hand raises, her spirit reaches out for the arcane... „... arcane magic?“ the words resound in her mind. [i]The shadow...[/i] – her eyes slits of anger, her voice a snapping [COLOR="Orange"]„What?“[/COLOR] as she rises. No, Lórquelië Coranarya was not used to being called [i]Miss[/i] by anyone, least a mortal man, but the ire’s source was born within herself. She takes a moment to regain her calm, overlooking the strange assembly. After a long pause, she states [COLOR="Orange"]„Very well, then.“[/COLOR] Her nod towards the Paladin is not reaching an implied bow, as she walks over to the group with a long, graceful stride. She halts to stand slightly off, an apparition in her white silken robes, whose layers are still flying from her swift arrival. Her amber eyes travel the other volunteers, her gaze stalling on the halfling and then locking, almost staring at the sight of the half-orc. Finally, she looks away into the dark, as she introduces herself with a frozen voice [COLOR="DarkOrange"]"Lórquelië Coranarya."[/COLOR] [/QUOTE]
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