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The Thorns of Winter -(updated 8/1/2023)
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<blockquote data-quote="Nthal" data-source="post: 8110615" data-attributes="member: 6971069"><p><h2 style="text-align: center"></h2> <h2 style="text-align: center">Falling awake - 10/19/2020</h2><p></p><p>Igneve glared at the smashed table in the center of the room. Not because of the mess it left, but because of the small fence of chain and two guards that stood around it, like some attraction at a Ghallanda festival. But the Soldorak’s also demanded room around the fence the setup. That was nearly a dozen tables and seats that had to be shoved up against the walls, and almost a third of the floor space, all while someone from Solangap could arrive and review the wreckage.</p><p></p><p>“It’s a broken table,” she said as she slammed metal plates into a tub. “Smashed by a woman from a fall. That I would think is obvious. But why do they need to hold my bar hostage?”</p><p></p><p>“It's not the whole bar,” Moravan pointed out.</p><p></p><p>“It's going to be a loss, even if we are full. And to top it off all the patrons, are too busy looking up to drink!” Igneve snapped back, pilling more plates into the tub, “Can’t make enough in food, and not enough want to stay an evening. Everyone is going topside!”</p><p></p><p>“It could be worse!” Moravan exclaimed, as he filled a pitcher with a strong earthy Mror stout.</p><p></p><p>“Well, Igneve it’s been a while hasn’t it,” Vernan said as he stepped up to the bar with a smile on his face.</p><p></p><p>“You’re right,” Igneve sighed and looked upwards. “Now it’s worse.” She turned and glared at the inquisitive. “And you have some gall showing up in here now.”</p><p></p><p>“I pay my bills!” Vernan said sounding wounded.</p><p></p><p>“Only for the drinks. I seem to remember you owing me for two chairs, a chest and a bed!”</p><p></p><p>“The fire was <em>not</em> my fault!”</p><p></p><p>“I don’t seem to remember the fire having coin either!”</p><p></p><p>“I’m sorry about that,” Vernan said trying to mollify the woman. “And I am sorry to say I am here on business. Tell you what, an ale and double the price because I need some answers on your recent…table crasher?”</p><p></p><p>“The table is,” and she with a flourish pointed out the wreckage on the floor, “Right there. Don’t think you need me for that.”</p><p></p><p>“I passed it on the way in. Something about the Soldorak pair standing over it like flies on horse crap. No, that isn’t what I need you for.”</p><p></p><p>Igneve looked at the inquisitive puzzled.</p><p></p><p>“I need you to show me, what’s right above it.”</p><p></p><p>Igneve led Vernan up the spiral rampway that led up the inside of the circular room, every ten steps there was a door set into the rock, with an everbright lantern giving off a soft warm light from a sconce in the wall. Opposite each door was an opening overlooking the festhall below.</p><p></p><p>“So, this was a foundry of some type?” Vernan remarked as they walked up the sloping ramp together.</p><p></p><p>Igneve nodded, “Down at the bottom, the kitchen area was once the bellows for the smelter, but there were workshops all along this rampway. Used to be a pair of rails for carts with ore, metals and whatever before we ripped them out. The coalbin is now where we distill and brew.”</p><p></p><p>“Sharn isn’t much different. Mror though has less concerns about history,” Vernan remarked. “But in Sharn, half the time in the lower towers you had no idea what the original builder intended, and so much of it built up over stuff long forgotten. Almost no memory of what the stone once did.”</p><p></p><p>“Well, this was all my work; this place was cobwebs and dust before,” Igneve said with pride. “Now the workshops are rooms, and the rails were reused below. Rented out the bottom for construction space as they built up the garrison below, and it paid for the reworking of the place. A lot of that crew still come here for drinks. Ok, we’re here; the top.”</p><p></p><p>In front of Vernan was a large arched opening with a small railing at knee height that prevented folks from getting too close to the edge. Vernan put his hands on the side wall and peered over the ledge, and sure enough, about four floors down he could see the remains of the table, the improvised fence and the guards.</p><p></p><p>Nodding to himself, he started to look around at the ground and at the railing, looking for signs of someone passing by. Running a finger across the stone, he looked at it, and saw the fine layer of dust that lay upon it. Frowning he kept looking over the archway and the wall.</p><p></p><p>“They were up here too. Had me search the rooms; though they wouldn’t say why.”</p><p></p><p>“Woman was covered in blood, right? Left a mess of it on the table I saw.”</p><p></p><p>Igneve nodded, “Yep, got her to House Jorasco in short order too.”</p><p></p><p>Vernan nodded, “Well, the blood wasn’t hers, so it came from somewhere.”</p><p></p><p>“Well that would explain the search…wait, you knew they wouldn’t find any, didn’t you?”</p><p></p><p>Vernan nodded, “When she landed, you didn’t get hit with any did you?”</p><p></p><p>Igneve frowned a moment, “A couple of drops…not much compared to what was on her.”</p><p></p><p>“Right. That means it was mostly dry when she hit the table, but not completely. But here on the railing, the edge of the sill, and the floor on the hall, there’s no sign of any, and the Soldorak’s didn’t find any either.</p><p></p><p>“How did you know that?”</p><p></p><p>“Because if they had, there would be another chain fence and a guard here.”</p><p></p><p>“So, she breaks my table in mostly dried blood?” Igneve said, her brow furrowed thinking this over.</p><p></p><p>"All of her injuries were internal, so that blood is someone else’s. Rior thinks he has a murderer and spy. But I don’t think he’s going to find a body anywhere near here.”</p><p></p><p>“Why is that?”</p><p></p><p>“Something magical is involved. A woman falls from here, yet no one notices her enter the bar at all? She isn’t dressed for stealth either, with a shiny breastplate and a shield? If she is in disguise, it’s a terrible choice of one. And if she did kill someone, where is the body? I checked before coming here; no one is reported missing. The whole thing doesn’t make sense yet. The only thing I am certain of, is that Mylle is right.”</p><p></p><p>“About what?”</p><p></p><p>“With a fall like that, she’s is going to be in a lot pain when she wakes up.”</p><p></p><p>[HR][/HR]</p><p></p><p></p><p>Flashes and images passed in front of my eyes; a dwarf laughing at me, a gnome screaming at me, a pair of men diving away from me. The bloody sacrifice I left behind on the floor. I felt stone crack and give way and I tumbled, falling towards the sound of water. Water whose surface I never breeched. I prayed during the fall, and was ready to give my life as I promised</p><p></p><p>And was rejected.</p><p></p><p>I felt the cool air rushing past me, and I tasted the moisture with my lips, when suddenly everything changed. Bright light flooded my eyes, and warm, dry air caressed my skin as I fell. Then I felt snapping, and cracking and heard the sounds of splintering wood. Suddenly I couldn’t breathe, and I glimpsed the face of a dwarf before my head hit a solid surface, causing a flash of white to pass in front of my eyes.</p><p></p><p>Now I am awake again…my head buzzed and pounded in pain. I was laying on my side and every breath hurt. I slowly opened my eyes, to walls of gray stone with flecks of red and blue shot throughout the rock, while I was laying on platform of the same stone. Ahead of me is an iron door, with a closed slot in the bottom, and a small window with bars at the top. Looking off the platform I saw a hole in the stone.</p><p></p><p>A prison? Maybe I didn’t escape the Duergar after all. But, Eridan was fettered, and the cell we found him in stank of sweat, rot and human offal. It didn’t smell that clean here, but it was nothing like his prison.</p><p></p><p>I pushed myself up with my right arm slowly, trying not to aggravate my headache, and I realized that my sides hurt equally. I blinked as I looked around, trying to get my bearings. I sat up and swung my legs over the edge of the stone, and my bare feet touched the cold floor. I looked down and saw that I was dressed in a rough spun tunic, that covers me down to mid-thigh, and was wide in the shoulders, hanging on me awkwardly. I looked down inside my tunic and saw that I had bandages wrapped all around me, constricting my breathing. Reaching up I touched my temple, and realized I had a wrapping around my head as well.</p><p></p><p>And that was it, nothing and no one else was in the room. My things were gone; my holy symbol, my rod, everything. I sat there and decided that the first thing I should do is perhaps heal myself. It would be harder without my symbol, but I could manage.</p><p></p><p>“Kelemvor, heal your wounded servant,” and I started to pull on a white strand. As I did, the buzzing in the background grew in strength, and in sudden pain. My hands flew to my temples and I fell forward onto my knees, gasping for air.</p><p></p><p>I gritted my teeth and tried again, slowly. As I touched the strand, I could feel the buzzing in my head increase sharply. I wondered if I could steel through it, and I tried continuing pulling on it. The buzzing and the pain kept increasing as I pulled. Finally, I released my hold on the strand and the buzzing returned to the back of my mind. I then decided on something even simpler; the incantation I used to clean myself. I reached within and started to braid a light and dark strand together. I started pulling it out, drawing the power even slower than before. But the pain ramped just as quickly, and it was still more than could endure. I let go again and panted for air as if I had to physically tried to manipulate the strands. I leaned forward and pounded the ground with my fist in anger.</p><p></p><p>I couldn’t even get a quarter of the strand in a state where I could use it; not enough for even the simplest of the magic I could work. The pain was beyond my ability to withstand. I wasn’t even sure that if I did manage to cast it, if I would even survive. I felt like it might actually kill me.</p><p></p><p>I leaned back against the stone platform, pulling up my knees to my chin, and I confronted the reality. I was alone in a cell somewhere. I didn’t know where in the multiverse I was. I hoped, prayed that my friends were safe.…but I wasn’t sure they could help me now.</p><p></p><p>Could anyone?</p><p></p><p>Would anyone?</p><p></p><p>No. It didn’t matter. I can’t assume there will be any help. I thought a moment and tried to remember anything I knew of the Prison in Sigil. I had as a young girl done a couple of rounds, cleaning the ducts and other places that only a scrawny kid could get to. But that wasn’t the same thing as a stay. Thinking back, I remembered that there were a couple of folks in the Sensates who managed to serve a short sentence there and they talked about it as a class, about what the experience was like.</p><p></p><p>I remembered they said something around the lines of ‘keep busy, keep thinking, keep going,’ because it wasn’t the Mercykillers that was the real enemy. It was boredom. So, what could I do?</p><p></p><p>I could move; I wasn’t fettered, and while I hurt, keeping moving and ready to do…something might be best. Nodding to myself, and I stood up and made a discovery.</p><p></p><p>I was taller than the cell, as I bumped my head against the roof. Puzzled for a moment, I realized that it made sense; if I were a dwarf, I would have a head’s clearance. But the cells the Duergar had were taller, probably to support the slaves they had. So that meant I was somewhere very different, but likely run by dwarves.</p><p></p><p>Stooping slightly, I walked around the cell. I didn’t realize it when I came to, but it was now clear that it must be pitch black. There wasn’t any light source, and if there was one from the outside, the bars didn’t cast any shadows inside the room. I considered that I might want to conceal that fact; most people assumed I was a strange human and didn’t realize I could see in the dark. And even if they did know that they didn’t know I could actually read in it, unlike others who could see in the dark.</p><p></p><p>I started with the hole in the stone, its purpose was quickly evident, as the distant odor of a sewer lingered there. It was a basin with an open drain to elsewhere, curving out of sight. I supposed that it was better than the pots they had in Sigil’s prison though.</p><p></p><p>The next thing to look at was the door. I noticed that the buzzing in my head increased as I approached it. It didn’t hurt more, but its presence was stronger. I looked at the slot at the bottom. It was barely a hand width in height. And was closed with a metal shield, leaving only the gap at the bottom the width of my smallest finger. It had to be for food, which just the thought of it made my stomach growl. I then bent down and looked through the bars. I could see a corridor, and another door directly across from mine. On it, I saw there was a lever that would raise the door to the slot below, and there was a keyhole that led to the mechanism that held it fast. There was also a hook protruding from the wall, on the side with the lock, whose purpose eluded me. I see a little of the hallway in both directions and could spot more doors, and the hint of light from the left side. But I quickly something else that drew my curiosity.</p><p></p><p>In a cage in the ceiling, positioned between my door and the door across from me I saw a crystal shard, the size of both my fists put together. It didn’t give off light or anything like that. But it was different from any crystal I had seen before with a smoky appearance with rivulets of black running through it. If that wasn’t interesting enough, the cage itself wasn’t just a bracket, but it was a full cage with a padlock, keeping the shard securely inside.</p><p></p><p>It meant it was important, not just a decoration. I stared at it for a moment, and started to pull on a light strand again, in hopes of healing myself. As I did so, and the pain appeared I saw the veins in the crystal pulse. As I pulled harder, the veins pulsed faster, matching the rhythm of pain I felt. Certain that was the source of pain, I let the strand go and stared at it wondering.</p><p></p><p>I moved to the far corners of the cell and tried again. And while the buzzing was less in the corners, the pain still was present when I tried to manipulate the strands. I sat down on the stone platform both annoyed and curious. I had never seen a crystal like that, and certainly had never heard of one that suppressed magic. It was interesting though; I would have loved to learn more about it.</p><p></p><p>I started to stretch my limbs, gritting through the discomfort I felt in my sides. I remembered in the Prison, I saw that some prisoners doing exercises and stretching. It was probably the only thing I could do, until I met my captors, and perhaps get fed. I tried to be inventive on what I could do, sitting up, pushing myself up with my arms, all the while watching the door.</p><p></p><p>I didn’t know how long it was, when suddenly my vision started to fade into grey. Looking at the barred window and listening I realized that several people wearing heavy armor were approaching, and they were carrying a light. I moved and sat on the platform and waited to see.</p><p></p><p>Suddenly, someone held a bright lantern up to the bars, and I had to raise up my arm to prevent myself from being blinded. After a moment, I heard a key turn in the lock, and the sound of the bolt being retracted, and then the door was pulled open. Three figures stepped in.</p><p></p><p>Dwarves. They were armored in chain mail, two them wore axes on their belts, and had crossbows pointed at me at the ready. The third one hung the lantern on a hook outside my door, the light flooding my cell. In his hands he held a set of manacles. Before they said anything, I realized that these weren’t Duergar. They lacked the gray skin and white hair they had. In fact, these looked like ‘normal’ dwarves. Their expression was all business, not showing disdain or hatred towards me, but the crossbow men were wary.</p><p></p><p>“Haaken sin herde ans!” the one with the manacles grumbled at me.</p><p></p><p>I shook my head, and said “Dvarkaan non,” which I remembered as ‘dwarven no.’ Or at least I hoped, I was pretty sure I didn’t insult them.</p><p></p><p>The dwarf nodded and pointed at me and thrust out an arm with the wrists upwards while saying something in a different language, “Widhab hands.” I swallowed, and held out my wrists helpfully, while saying “Non,”</p><p></p><p>The dwarf wasted no time clapping the manacles on one of my wrists, while giving me a peculiar look. He jerked the manacle upwards saying “Beweri upwird.”</p><p></p><p>I stood, and he roughly turned me around, and pulled the manacle behind my back. I quickly figured out that he was going to secure both my hands that way and didn’t resist when he grabbed my other wrist and secured it. Then he turned me around and held a firm grip on the chain the connected the manacles together, and turned me around forcibly, and pushed me into the corridor.</p><p></p><p>[HR][/HR]</p><p></p><p></p><p>Rior was unamused, as he turned over in his hand a couple of objects frowning. He sat in an elevated chair at the back of the wall of the square room. In front of him was a small T-post with an open lock, and beyond that the door leaving the chamber. As he examined the pair in his hand, the door opened, and a gnome with a large tome entered. The gnome was older, with a white beard and curled moustache and a balding pate. On the right side of his face, an abstract tattoo of purples and magentas pulsated. He gave Rior a perfunctory nod and headed to a desk in one corner, taking a seat. As he set down the tome, he carried he spoke:</p><p></p><p>“Rior. Another one in a week. I hope this one won’t be boring.”</p><p></p><p>Rior glanced at the scribe, “I should hope not Paron. A spy and murderer should have a lot to say.”</p><p></p><p>The gnome arched an eyebrow, “As opposed to that heist on the Lightning rail? I should hope so. Any luck finding the others?”</p><p></p><p>Rior frowned, “No. That damned Boromar has told me all he knows, which wasn’t much. His kin had already fled town, with the goods, leaving our guest to rot.”</p><p></p><p>“Pity,” Paron said opening his book, and pulled out some quills and an ink pot from a small pouch fastened to his thigh. “Strange they left him behind,”</p><p></p><p>“It doesn’t matter, but I am going to send him to the Dreadhold for it,” grimaced Rior.</p><p></p><p>The gnome looked up, “That…sounds a bit overkill. Are you—”</p><p></p><p>“It is not your concern. Let’s focus on the sp—” and then the door opened again, this time with three dwarves, and a woman in tow.</p><p>Rior watched as they moved the woman and forced her to kneel in front of the t-post and locking her manacled behind it. She moved as if still in pain, which wasn’t surprising. Her golden hair was disheveled, and still spattered with blood. When the guards moved away and stood at ease by the exit, he finally could see what Mylle meant about her eyes.</p><p></p><p>Her eyes were like mirrors he was told, and the striking feature was not lost on him. And while he was not close enough to see his own reflection, it did give Rior a feeling of unease. She stared at him, not in fear, but in wariness. She probably was striking to Humans, an Khorvare, but her looks were not of interest to Rior. But Rior would get what he wanted from her soon enough.</p><p></p><p>“What is your name, girl?” He asked in common, assuming that she wasn’t bright enough for dwarvish. Her reaction was of puzzlement.</p><p></p><p>“Non,” she said simply, using the Dwarvish word for no.</p><p></p><p>“Playing dumb is only going to make this longer. What is your name?” Rior said letting his anger simmer to the surface.</p><p></p><p>She frowned and replied, “Yfa lufen not undergataan you.”</p><p></p><p>Rior leaned back frowning, “What crap is this? Paron?” he hissed at the gnome.</p><p></p><p>“I understood only half of that myself,” the gnome replied resting his chin in his left hand. “But if I didn’t know better, she doesn’t speak the common trade language.”</p><p></p><p>“Can’t you do something about that?”</p><p></p><p>“My mark will allow me to understand her, but she still would be unable to understand us.”</p><p></p><p>The woman pivoted her head back and forth, and spoke again, “Not…understand?”</p><p></p><p>“She’s playing us,” Rior said in a huff.</p><p></p><p>“Maybe not, If you allow me a moment,” and Paron stood up and walked in front of the woman. On her knees, she was at eyelevel with the gnome, and while Rior was aware of her visual distinctiveness, Paron was looking deeply into her eyes.</p><p></p><p>“Remarkable…I have never—”</p><p></p><p>“—Paron!” Rior shouted.</p><p></p><p>“Sorry, hmm…Non Dvaarkan, ye?” to which she shook her head. “Alright…Ydit k’in syea Gomit?”</p><p></p><p>She shook her head, and spoke again, “Gomit, nid wyf en.”</p><p></p><p>“She’s been around gnomes at least. That was proper conjugation. But not a speaker.”</p><p></p><p>The woman took the initiative, “Tel’quessir parra pisan?”</p><p></p><p>“Well that I recognize, but I don’t speak elvish,” Paron commented on.</p><p></p><p>“At least we can find a speaker for that,” Rior said rolling his eyes, “But how does she not know common?”</p><p></p><p>“Well, I can try a couple of others I do know. ‘Irragh Dar?’ ‘Atg’chan Ork?’”</p><p></p><p>The woman shook her head, and pursed her lips together, before speaking again., “A’ilo wau e cele?”</p><p></p><p>“That’s…familiar…but I don’t know it…where have I hear—”</p><p></p><p>“Nemtk bezsaalk Baatezu?” she said, but this time it sounded like it was being scraped out of her throat.</p><p></p><p>“My word. That’s not one I would have expected,” he shook his head.</p><p></p><p>“What?” Rior demanded.</p><p></p><p>“One of the languages of the fiends, It’s an odd one to—”</p><p></p><p>The gnome was interrupted by the door opening, and Vernan stepping inside.</p><p></p><p>“How tedious,” the inquisitive said, “How much paperwork is really necessary to attend an interrogation?”</p><p></p><p>“As much as needed,” Rior said with a glare.</p><p></p><p>The inquisitive frowned as he looked gnome in front of the woman, and Rior’s frustrated face, “I feel like I’m missing something here.”</p><p>“Communication barrier; she doesn’t speak common.” Paron started. “We were trying to find something in comm—oh sorry, that is a terrible pun…anyway that we can speak. The only one we think might work is Elvish. “</p><p></p><p>“Really? Your lucky day, I can speak that,”</p><p></p><p>“Of course <em>you</em> would.” Rior groaned.</p><p></p><p><strong>Notes:</strong></p><p>So...how common is common? Right now it is about how much english is to old english...generously speaking.</p><p></p><p>And if you haven't noticed; most of the languages are actually touched up Google Translate of real languages. Except old english; apparently you need to go elsewhere for that <img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite1" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":)" /></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Nthal, post: 8110615, member: 6971069"] [HEADING=1][CENTER] Falling awake - 10/19/2020[/CENTER][/HEADING] Igneve glared at the smashed table in the center of the room. Not because of the mess it left, but because of the small fence of chain and two guards that stood around it, like some attraction at a Ghallanda festival. But the Soldorak’s also demanded room around the fence the setup. That was nearly a dozen tables and seats that had to be shoved up against the walls, and almost a third of the floor space, all while someone from Solangap could arrive and review the wreckage. “It’s a broken table,” she said as she slammed metal plates into a tub. “Smashed by a woman from a fall. That I would think is obvious. But why do they need to hold my bar hostage?” “It's not the whole bar,” Moravan pointed out. “It's going to be a loss, even if we are full. And to top it off all the patrons, are too busy looking up to drink!” Igneve snapped back, pilling more plates into the tub, “Can’t make enough in food, and not enough want to stay an evening. Everyone is going topside!” “It could be worse!” Moravan exclaimed, as he filled a pitcher with a strong earthy Mror stout. “Well, Igneve it’s been a while hasn’t it,” Vernan said as he stepped up to the bar with a smile on his face. “You’re right,” Igneve sighed and looked upwards. “Now it’s worse.” She turned and glared at the inquisitive. “And you have some gall showing up in here now.” “I pay my bills!” Vernan said sounding wounded. “Only for the drinks. I seem to remember you owing me for two chairs, a chest and a bed!” “The fire was [I]not[/I] my fault!” “I don’t seem to remember the fire having coin either!” “I’m sorry about that,” Vernan said trying to mollify the woman. “And I am sorry to say I am here on business. Tell you what, an ale and double the price because I need some answers on your recent…table crasher?” “The table is,” and she with a flourish pointed out the wreckage on the floor, “Right there. Don’t think you need me for that.” “I passed it on the way in. Something about the Soldorak pair standing over it like flies on horse crap. No, that isn’t what I need you for.” Igneve looked at the inquisitive puzzled. “I need you to show me, what’s right above it.” Igneve led Vernan up the spiral rampway that led up the inside of the circular room, every ten steps there was a door set into the rock, with an everbright lantern giving off a soft warm light from a sconce in the wall. Opposite each door was an opening overlooking the festhall below. “So, this was a foundry of some type?” Vernan remarked as they walked up the sloping ramp together. Igneve nodded, “Down at the bottom, the kitchen area was once the bellows for the smelter, but there were workshops all along this rampway. Used to be a pair of rails for carts with ore, metals and whatever before we ripped them out. The coalbin is now where we distill and brew.” “Sharn isn’t much different. Mror though has less concerns about history,” Vernan remarked. “But in Sharn, half the time in the lower towers you had no idea what the original builder intended, and so much of it built up over stuff long forgotten. Almost no memory of what the stone once did.” “Well, this was all my work; this place was cobwebs and dust before,” Igneve said with pride. “Now the workshops are rooms, and the rails were reused below. Rented out the bottom for construction space as they built up the garrison below, and it paid for the reworking of the place. A lot of that crew still come here for drinks. Ok, we’re here; the top.” In front of Vernan was a large arched opening with a small railing at knee height that prevented folks from getting too close to the edge. Vernan put his hands on the side wall and peered over the ledge, and sure enough, about four floors down he could see the remains of the table, the improvised fence and the guards. Nodding to himself, he started to look around at the ground and at the railing, looking for signs of someone passing by. Running a finger across the stone, he looked at it, and saw the fine layer of dust that lay upon it. Frowning he kept looking over the archway and the wall. “They were up here too. Had me search the rooms; though they wouldn’t say why.” “Woman was covered in blood, right? Left a mess of it on the table I saw.” Igneve nodded, “Yep, got her to House Jorasco in short order too.” Vernan nodded, “Well, the blood wasn’t hers, so it came from somewhere.” “Well that would explain the search…wait, you knew they wouldn’t find any, didn’t you?” Vernan nodded, “When she landed, you didn’t get hit with any did you?” Igneve frowned a moment, “A couple of drops…not much compared to what was on her.” “Right. That means it was mostly dry when she hit the table, but not completely. But here on the railing, the edge of the sill, and the floor on the hall, there’s no sign of any, and the Soldorak’s didn’t find any either. “How did you know that?” “Because if they had, there would be another chain fence and a guard here.” “So, she breaks my table in mostly dried blood?” Igneve said, her brow furrowed thinking this over. "All of her injuries were internal, so that blood is someone else’s. Rior thinks he has a murderer and spy. But I don’t think he’s going to find a body anywhere near here.” “Why is that?” “Something magical is involved. A woman falls from here, yet no one notices her enter the bar at all? She isn’t dressed for stealth either, with a shiny breastplate and a shield? If she is in disguise, it’s a terrible choice of one. And if she did kill someone, where is the body? I checked before coming here; no one is reported missing. The whole thing doesn’t make sense yet. The only thing I am certain of, is that Mylle is right.” “About what?” “With a fall like that, she’s is going to be in a lot pain when she wakes up.” [HR][/HR] Flashes and images passed in front of my eyes; a dwarf laughing at me, a gnome screaming at me, a pair of men diving away from me. The bloody sacrifice I left behind on the floor. I felt stone crack and give way and I tumbled, falling towards the sound of water. Water whose surface I never breeched. I prayed during the fall, and was ready to give my life as I promised And was rejected. I felt the cool air rushing past me, and I tasted the moisture with my lips, when suddenly everything changed. Bright light flooded my eyes, and warm, dry air caressed my skin as I fell. Then I felt snapping, and cracking and heard the sounds of splintering wood. Suddenly I couldn’t breathe, and I glimpsed the face of a dwarf before my head hit a solid surface, causing a flash of white to pass in front of my eyes. Now I am awake again…my head buzzed and pounded in pain. I was laying on my side and every breath hurt. I slowly opened my eyes, to walls of gray stone with flecks of red and blue shot throughout the rock, while I was laying on platform of the same stone. Ahead of me is an iron door, with a closed slot in the bottom, and a small window with bars at the top. Looking off the platform I saw a hole in the stone. A prison? Maybe I didn’t escape the Duergar after all. But, Eridan was fettered, and the cell we found him in stank of sweat, rot and human offal. It didn’t smell that clean here, but it was nothing like his prison. I pushed myself up with my right arm slowly, trying not to aggravate my headache, and I realized that my sides hurt equally. I blinked as I looked around, trying to get my bearings. I sat up and swung my legs over the edge of the stone, and my bare feet touched the cold floor. I looked down and saw that I was dressed in a rough spun tunic, that covers me down to mid-thigh, and was wide in the shoulders, hanging on me awkwardly. I looked down inside my tunic and saw that I had bandages wrapped all around me, constricting my breathing. Reaching up I touched my temple, and realized I had a wrapping around my head as well. And that was it, nothing and no one else was in the room. My things were gone; my holy symbol, my rod, everything. I sat there and decided that the first thing I should do is perhaps heal myself. It would be harder without my symbol, but I could manage. “Kelemvor, heal your wounded servant,” and I started to pull on a white strand. As I did, the buzzing in the background grew in strength, and in sudden pain. My hands flew to my temples and I fell forward onto my knees, gasping for air. I gritted my teeth and tried again, slowly. As I touched the strand, I could feel the buzzing in my head increase sharply. I wondered if I could steel through it, and I tried continuing pulling on it. The buzzing and the pain kept increasing as I pulled. Finally, I released my hold on the strand and the buzzing returned to the back of my mind. I then decided on something even simpler; the incantation I used to clean myself. I reached within and started to braid a light and dark strand together. I started pulling it out, drawing the power even slower than before. But the pain ramped just as quickly, and it was still more than could endure. I let go again and panted for air as if I had to physically tried to manipulate the strands. I leaned forward and pounded the ground with my fist in anger. I couldn’t even get a quarter of the strand in a state where I could use it; not enough for even the simplest of the magic I could work. The pain was beyond my ability to withstand. I wasn’t even sure that if I did manage to cast it, if I would even survive. I felt like it might actually kill me. I leaned back against the stone platform, pulling up my knees to my chin, and I confronted the reality. I was alone in a cell somewhere. I didn’t know where in the multiverse I was. I hoped, prayed that my friends were safe.…but I wasn’t sure they could help me now. Could anyone? Would anyone? No. It didn’t matter. I can’t assume there will be any help. I thought a moment and tried to remember anything I knew of the Prison in Sigil. I had as a young girl done a couple of rounds, cleaning the ducts and other places that only a scrawny kid could get to. But that wasn’t the same thing as a stay. Thinking back, I remembered that there were a couple of folks in the Sensates who managed to serve a short sentence there and they talked about it as a class, about what the experience was like. I remembered they said something around the lines of ‘keep busy, keep thinking, keep going,’ because it wasn’t the Mercykillers that was the real enemy. It was boredom. So, what could I do? I could move; I wasn’t fettered, and while I hurt, keeping moving and ready to do…something might be best. Nodding to myself, and I stood up and made a discovery. I was taller than the cell, as I bumped my head against the roof. Puzzled for a moment, I realized that it made sense; if I were a dwarf, I would have a head’s clearance. But the cells the Duergar had were taller, probably to support the slaves they had. So that meant I was somewhere very different, but likely run by dwarves. Stooping slightly, I walked around the cell. I didn’t realize it when I came to, but it was now clear that it must be pitch black. There wasn’t any light source, and if there was one from the outside, the bars didn’t cast any shadows inside the room. I considered that I might want to conceal that fact; most people assumed I was a strange human and didn’t realize I could see in the dark. And even if they did know that they didn’t know I could actually read in it, unlike others who could see in the dark. I started with the hole in the stone, its purpose was quickly evident, as the distant odor of a sewer lingered there. It was a basin with an open drain to elsewhere, curving out of sight. I supposed that it was better than the pots they had in Sigil’s prison though. The next thing to look at was the door. I noticed that the buzzing in my head increased as I approached it. It didn’t hurt more, but its presence was stronger. I looked at the slot at the bottom. It was barely a hand width in height. And was closed with a metal shield, leaving only the gap at the bottom the width of my smallest finger. It had to be for food, which just the thought of it made my stomach growl. I then bent down and looked through the bars. I could see a corridor, and another door directly across from mine. On it, I saw there was a lever that would raise the door to the slot below, and there was a keyhole that led to the mechanism that held it fast. There was also a hook protruding from the wall, on the side with the lock, whose purpose eluded me. I see a little of the hallway in both directions and could spot more doors, and the hint of light from the left side. But I quickly something else that drew my curiosity. In a cage in the ceiling, positioned between my door and the door across from me I saw a crystal shard, the size of both my fists put together. It didn’t give off light or anything like that. But it was different from any crystal I had seen before with a smoky appearance with rivulets of black running through it. If that wasn’t interesting enough, the cage itself wasn’t just a bracket, but it was a full cage with a padlock, keeping the shard securely inside. It meant it was important, not just a decoration. I stared at it for a moment, and started to pull on a light strand again, in hopes of healing myself. As I did so, and the pain appeared I saw the veins in the crystal pulse. As I pulled harder, the veins pulsed faster, matching the rhythm of pain I felt. Certain that was the source of pain, I let the strand go and stared at it wondering. I moved to the far corners of the cell and tried again. And while the buzzing was less in the corners, the pain still was present when I tried to manipulate the strands. I sat down on the stone platform both annoyed and curious. I had never seen a crystal like that, and certainly had never heard of one that suppressed magic. It was interesting though; I would have loved to learn more about it. I started to stretch my limbs, gritting through the discomfort I felt in my sides. I remembered in the Prison, I saw that some prisoners doing exercises and stretching. It was probably the only thing I could do, until I met my captors, and perhaps get fed. I tried to be inventive on what I could do, sitting up, pushing myself up with my arms, all the while watching the door. I didn’t know how long it was, when suddenly my vision started to fade into grey. Looking at the barred window and listening I realized that several people wearing heavy armor were approaching, and they were carrying a light. I moved and sat on the platform and waited to see. Suddenly, someone held a bright lantern up to the bars, and I had to raise up my arm to prevent myself from being blinded. After a moment, I heard a key turn in the lock, and the sound of the bolt being retracted, and then the door was pulled open. Three figures stepped in. Dwarves. They were armored in chain mail, two them wore axes on their belts, and had crossbows pointed at me at the ready. The third one hung the lantern on a hook outside my door, the light flooding my cell. In his hands he held a set of manacles. Before they said anything, I realized that these weren’t Duergar. They lacked the gray skin and white hair they had. In fact, these looked like ‘normal’ dwarves. Their expression was all business, not showing disdain or hatred towards me, but the crossbow men were wary. “Haaken sin herde ans!” the one with the manacles grumbled at me. I shook my head, and said “Dvarkaan non,” which I remembered as ‘dwarven no.’ Or at least I hoped, I was pretty sure I didn’t insult them. The dwarf nodded and pointed at me and thrust out an arm with the wrists upwards while saying something in a different language, “Widhab hands.” I swallowed, and held out my wrists helpfully, while saying “Non,” The dwarf wasted no time clapping the manacles on one of my wrists, while giving me a peculiar look. He jerked the manacle upwards saying “Beweri upwird.” I stood, and he roughly turned me around, and pulled the manacle behind my back. I quickly figured out that he was going to secure both my hands that way and didn’t resist when he grabbed my other wrist and secured it. Then he turned me around and held a firm grip on the chain the connected the manacles together, and turned me around forcibly, and pushed me into the corridor. [HR][/HR] Rior was unamused, as he turned over in his hand a couple of objects frowning. He sat in an elevated chair at the back of the wall of the square room. In front of him was a small T-post with an open lock, and beyond that the door leaving the chamber. As he examined the pair in his hand, the door opened, and a gnome with a large tome entered. The gnome was older, with a white beard and curled moustache and a balding pate. On the right side of his face, an abstract tattoo of purples and magentas pulsated. He gave Rior a perfunctory nod and headed to a desk in one corner, taking a seat. As he set down the tome, he carried he spoke: “Rior. Another one in a week. I hope this one won’t be boring.” Rior glanced at the scribe, “I should hope not Paron. A spy and murderer should have a lot to say.” The gnome arched an eyebrow, “As opposed to that heist on the Lightning rail? I should hope so. Any luck finding the others?” Rior frowned, “No. That damned Boromar has told me all he knows, which wasn’t much. His kin had already fled town, with the goods, leaving our guest to rot.” “Pity,” Paron said opening his book, and pulled out some quills and an ink pot from a small pouch fastened to his thigh. “Strange they left him behind,” “It doesn’t matter, but I am going to send him to the Dreadhold for it,” grimaced Rior. The gnome looked up, “That…sounds a bit overkill. Are you—” “It is not your concern. Let’s focus on the sp—” and then the door opened again, this time with three dwarves, and a woman in tow. Rior watched as they moved the woman and forced her to kneel in front of the t-post and locking her manacled behind it. She moved as if still in pain, which wasn’t surprising. Her golden hair was disheveled, and still spattered with blood. When the guards moved away and stood at ease by the exit, he finally could see what Mylle meant about her eyes. Her eyes were like mirrors he was told, and the striking feature was not lost on him. And while he was not close enough to see his own reflection, it did give Rior a feeling of unease. She stared at him, not in fear, but in wariness. She probably was striking to Humans, an Khorvare, but her looks were not of interest to Rior. But Rior would get what he wanted from her soon enough. “What is your name, girl?” He asked in common, assuming that she wasn’t bright enough for dwarvish. Her reaction was of puzzlement. “Non,” she said simply, using the Dwarvish word for no. “Playing dumb is only going to make this longer. What is your name?” Rior said letting his anger simmer to the surface. She frowned and replied, “Yfa lufen not undergataan you.” Rior leaned back frowning, “What crap is this? Paron?” he hissed at the gnome. “I understood only half of that myself,” the gnome replied resting his chin in his left hand. “But if I didn’t know better, she doesn’t speak the common trade language.” “Can’t you do something about that?” “My mark will allow me to understand her, but she still would be unable to understand us.” The woman pivoted her head back and forth, and spoke again, “Not…understand?” “She’s playing us,” Rior said in a huff. “Maybe not, If you allow me a moment,” and Paron stood up and walked in front of the woman. On her knees, she was at eyelevel with the gnome, and while Rior was aware of her visual distinctiveness, Paron was looking deeply into her eyes. “Remarkable…I have never—” “—Paron!” Rior shouted. “Sorry, hmm…Non Dvaarkan, ye?” to which she shook her head. “Alright…Ydit k’in syea Gomit?” She shook her head, and spoke again, “Gomit, nid wyf en.” “She’s been around gnomes at least. That was proper conjugation. But not a speaker.” The woman took the initiative, “Tel’quessir parra pisan?” “Well that I recognize, but I don’t speak elvish,” Paron commented on. “At least we can find a speaker for that,” Rior said rolling his eyes, “But how does she not know common?” “Well, I can try a couple of others I do know. ‘Irragh Dar?’ ‘Atg’chan Ork?’” The woman shook her head, and pursed her lips together, before speaking again., “A’ilo wau e cele?” “That’s…familiar…but I don’t know it…where have I hear—” “Nemtk bezsaalk Baatezu?” she said, but this time it sounded like it was being scraped out of her throat. “My word. That’s not one I would have expected,” he shook his head. “What?” Rior demanded. “One of the languages of the fiends, It’s an odd one to—” The gnome was interrupted by the door opening, and Vernan stepping inside. “How tedious,” the inquisitive said, “How much paperwork is really necessary to attend an interrogation?” “As much as needed,” Rior said with a glare. The inquisitive frowned as he looked gnome in front of the woman, and Rior’s frustrated face, “I feel like I’m missing something here.” “Communication barrier; she doesn’t speak common.” Paron started. “We were trying to find something in comm—oh sorry, that is a terrible pun…anyway that we can speak. The only one we think might work is Elvish. “ “Really? Your lucky day, I can speak that,” “Of course [I]you[/I] would.” Rior groaned. [B]Notes:[/B] So...how common is common? Right now it is about how much english is to old english...generously speaking. And if you haven't noticed; most of the languages are actually touched up Google Translate of real languages. Except old english; apparently you need to go elsewhere for that :) [/QUOTE]
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