"G'morning. I see you're still here. Thought you'd have
taken the first fresh horse you came to and left this Inn. I can't say
I'm not pleased; it's been quite some time since I was able to speak with
another being casually."
The dragoon sits across the table, fingering the amulet with a violet stone set in the middle of it.
"Y'know... marvelous invention of the Gods this is," The Dragoon regards the pendant in his fingers. "Without this, and you wouldn't be listening to this foolish, old warrior."
He sighs and lets it drop back to its resting place on his chest. "I suppose you want the rest of my story, hangover or not."
"Where did I leave off? Oh, yes. Thank you. I awoke some time later in a grand mansion in the depths of the Neriak's wealthiest district, surrounded by clerics. Sitting at my bedside was the Shadow Knight who'd come to my aid.
Now, if you asked me to describe my ideal vision of a grandfather, this shadow knight would be it. He was imposing, don't get me wrong, but the deep uncharacteristic worry lines around his eyes and mouth told a different story. His hair was brushed with a dignified -almost regal- shade of silver near the temples, and a short cropped beard framing a mouth held in a firm, straight line. He was still very muscular and large for a Teir`Dal, but his slight beer belly bespoke a man with a taste for food and drink. When he saw me turn my face towards him, he breathed in relief, and a shaky smile pulled the corners of his mouth upward. At that moment, he was and wasn't my vision of a Shadow Knight all at once.
He rose and spoke in a gentler, more soft-spoken voice than I thought a Shadow Knight should, "Allow me."
The clerics nodded softly, and backed away. The Shadow Knight cast a spell, a green aura surrounding himself and me. My wounds began to heal, but I could hear the almost inaudible groan of pain from the Knight. Finally it was over, and the man sat down heavily in the chair beside my bed, sweat standing out on his forehead.
"Father, please be careful... you're not a young man anymore." Chided a lady cleric whose belly was ripe with child. She knelt slowly and held the Knight's wrist, her slim, delicate fingers resting on the veins standing out from his skin. A little girl my age with striking dark eyes, dressed in robes any Teir'Dal would recognize as being an acolyte of the Temple, offered the man a cup.
"Aye Noma, but I feel badly for hurting the boy." The Knight answered, accepting the cup which he drank from gratefully. "Thank ye, Sweet Heart."
I knitted my eyebrows together in puzzlement as the Knight kissed the little girl's cheek and lifted her up onto his lap.
The lady cleric pushed to her feet, and leaned over to brush my hair away from my face, a gentle smile lighting her high-born features.
"Welcome to the T'lenn House, Child." The mother said softly, kissing my temple as she used her magic to make me sleep.
In a way, it was if my near death at the magics of that cruel wolf was in actuality my rebirth. They kept me at the house, saying I was on my own as soon as I was old enough to survive. However, well over thirty years passed and I still inhabit the room I awoke in."
The Dark Elf chuckles and leans back with a happy smile on his face.
"Aye, growing up in the T'lenn house was like a dream. I was adopted only a year after my mother's death by the youngest son of General Calan T'lenn and raised as if I had been a member of the house from the moment of my birth. And as far as anyone outside the house was concerned, I was.
I spent halcyon days playing in the courtyard with my cousins, and peaceful nights listening to tales from my adoptive parents and elder brother. Under my father's and brother's tutelage and loving support, I grew from being a skinny whelp to being an able-bodied, barnstormer of a boy in scarcely a year.
The Dragoon smiles at a maid as she sets some coffee in front of him. He tastes it, and then with an approving nod, takes a bigger sip. He turns back to you and asks pleasantly, "Have you had any breakfast yet? I'm famished!"
The dragoon sits across the table, fingering the amulet with a violet stone set in the middle of it.
"Y'know... marvelous invention of the Gods this is," The Dragoon regards the pendant in his fingers. "Without this, and you wouldn't be listening to this foolish, old warrior."
He sighs and lets it drop back to its resting place on his chest. "I suppose you want the rest of my story, hangover or not."
"Where did I leave off? Oh, yes. Thank you. I awoke some time later in a grand mansion in the depths of the Neriak's wealthiest district, surrounded by clerics. Sitting at my bedside was the Shadow Knight who'd come to my aid.
Now, if you asked me to describe my ideal vision of a grandfather, this shadow knight would be it. He was imposing, don't get me wrong, but the deep uncharacteristic worry lines around his eyes and mouth told a different story. His hair was brushed with a dignified -almost regal- shade of silver near the temples, and a short cropped beard framing a mouth held in a firm, straight line. He was still very muscular and large for a Teir`Dal, but his slight beer belly bespoke a man with a taste for food and drink. When he saw me turn my face towards him, he breathed in relief, and a shaky smile pulled the corners of his mouth upward. At that moment, he was and wasn't my vision of a Shadow Knight all at once.
He rose and spoke in a gentler, more soft-spoken voice than I thought a Shadow Knight should, "Allow me."
The clerics nodded softly, and backed away. The Shadow Knight cast a spell, a green aura surrounding himself and me. My wounds began to heal, but I could hear the almost inaudible groan of pain from the Knight. Finally it was over, and the man sat down heavily in the chair beside my bed, sweat standing out on his forehead.
"Father, please be careful... you're not a young man anymore." Chided a lady cleric whose belly was ripe with child. She knelt slowly and held the Knight's wrist, her slim, delicate fingers resting on the veins standing out from his skin. A little girl my age with striking dark eyes, dressed in robes any Teir'Dal would recognize as being an acolyte of the Temple, offered the man a cup.
"Aye Noma, but I feel badly for hurting the boy." The Knight answered, accepting the cup which he drank from gratefully. "Thank ye, Sweet Heart."
I knitted my eyebrows together in puzzlement as the Knight kissed the little girl's cheek and lifted her up onto his lap.
The lady cleric pushed to her feet, and leaned over to brush my hair away from my face, a gentle smile lighting her high-born features.
"Welcome to the T'lenn House, Child." The mother said softly, kissing my temple as she used her magic to make me sleep.
In a way, it was if my near death at the magics of that cruel wolf was in actuality my rebirth. They kept me at the house, saying I was on my own as soon as I was old enough to survive. However, well over thirty years passed and I still inhabit the room I awoke in."
The Dark Elf chuckles and leans back with a happy smile on his face.
"Aye, growing up in the T'lenn house was like a dream. I was adopted only a year after my mother's death by the youngest son of General Calan T'lenn and raised as if I had been a member of the house from the moment of my birth. And as far as anyone outside the house was concerned, I was.
I spent halcyon days playing in the courtyard with my cousins, and peaceful nights listening to tales from my adoptive parents and elder brother. Under my father's and brother's tutelage and loving support, I grew from being a skinny whelp to being an able-bodied, barnstormer of a boy in scarcely a year.
The Dragoon smiles at a maid as she sets some coffee in front of him. He tastes it, and then with an approving nod, takes a bigger sip. He turns back to you and asks pleasantly, "Have you had any breakfast yet? I'm famished!"