RC Tyrot: Fish and rain

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"Me? Oh, Ah'm from Elerak's Teeth - jus' north o' Karsim. I came here because I heard that the Isle o' Men is also the Isle o' opportunity. I guess it's something in the character o' such a young civilisation. I've left me old life behind. This island seems a grand place to start afresh. So what say you, having lived here all yer life? Is Tyrot all I've heard?"

 

"It isn't that great from my expreiences. I'd leave right this moment if it weren't for... certain things." Cugaer fades off into a thoughtful silence.

 

A curious look passes across Ratchett's face "Certain things?" he asks, "What....naw, naw....I'll respect yer privacy....."

 

Tanari gives Cugaer a brief worried look, then looks at his silver ring and ponders for a second, before saying in a calm voice.
"Seems like the past have scarred several of us, although for me.. This place is not one I selected as much as I was led to. I've been following halls of lore throughout the realm, going from one land to the next. Like a great maze of pathways where fate decides my destination after finding new knowledge."

Tanari plays a little with his ring, then looks at the others.
"How long is it since any of you have seen your homes?"

 

"Home as in the place I spent most of my life? Not so long ago. I visited my aunt and uncle there a few months ago," Cugaer said in a quiet voice. With a laugh he added, "Home as in where I was born, well now that sits at the bottem of the sea! What about you Tanari? How long since you visited your home?"

 

"I don't know if I should call home home, in the first place... For what is really home, at least the home for me? Two years, though."

 

Tanari's blue eyes seem to become distant at the mention of his home, as if he tries to recall what happened there. "Home.." he mutters, then looks with some sort of sad realization at Cugaer, "I don't really remember, thirty.. forty years? Been a long time I'll admit. I wonder how Zeiko is, he is my best friend.. at home.." the last words with filled longing.

"My home is on the northern forests of Bevylaam. Beautiful it was indeed, not a square city like this, but an elvendom among the trees! Great massive oaks the size of that church in width, and many times taller!"
Tanari points at the church in the distance as he speaks, then realizes his eagerness of telling of his home and finds his panpipe.
"I could play you a tune? I think I will, it's only a brief part, but it describes one of the first elves of my realm."
Sampling the panpipe, he plays a melody that has a dark and sad melancholic feel to it.

"Once upon a time in a far distant land
More noble and ancient than any of kin
Prior war and chaos dragged down this man
Ever near his fate ending in fatal sin

A cunning elf with no name or face or heir
Beloved Eraziee forged in forest shade
The hero fell in love with a fey so fair
The elder exile with his history fade"

Tanari looks slightly embarrassed at the others, and coughs.
"Admittedly.. I might be a little homesick."

 

When Tanari finishes Cugaer starts to clap. "I never knew you could play the pipes. Why don't you return there for a visit? 40 years is quiet a while, even for an elf."

 

Tanari puts away the pipes, and ponders for a second, then smiles at Cugaer.

"I'm on a quest. My home is in peril, and I need to retrieve an artifact that could ensure its survival.. and then I'm hunting the one stealing it. A demon of terrible power, named Alzeroth."
Pronouncing the name, Tanari's speech is filled with an unquestionable hatred and spite.

He frowns and plays a little with his ring again, then sighs and speaks in a low calm voice, "Though that is my fate.. I cannot return till I have the artifact."

Leaning back, he looks more at ease and smiles at Cugaer, "If you could leave, where would you go?"

 

Ratchett sighs. "Myself, I have no home. Have not had for...must be about a decade now...."

 

Having watched the scene from the eyes of someone who can barely see over the table edge, Melvin had for a long time sat quietly as the other men talked amongst themselves of their homes. Rather distraught, yet determined to make himself known, he added cheerfully; "Ha! You are a surly lot aren't you?" With a wink of his eye, Melvin helpfully points out that, "Some family aren't even worth having, so being without a home usually gives you a different perspective on things," and with a look at this emptier-than-before purse; "and a lower budget that's for sure!"

Melvin, realising that his joke is ill-timed as usual, puts his hand on Tanari's knee (instead of his shoulder) and says, "Wipe them tears from your eyes longears, it seems you've made some new friends," with the friendliest smile he could manage.

 

Tanari smiles at Melvin, "Well you're right about home being were you friends are.. a place is just a place."
Savouring the sweet taste of clean bread, he looks to the sky and swallows the lump. Following a bird with his eyes, he speaks partially absent-minded to no one in particular.
"So what do you think this messenger is? And what do you believe his message will be?"

 

"Surely you are the ranger, dear friend. If anyone could understand them druids it'd be you! But let me tell you this;" says Melvin pointedly, "I wouldn't be surprised the least if the Rabbit I'd pull out of my sack suddenly told me to go kick Feryl's behind this very evening!" he exclaims as he gestures to his magical pouch and spreads his arms out grandly.

He glances at the small, velvet sack hanging from his belt, to Tanari sitting near him at the table, to the treeline far away through the window. "Druids are funny folk I say," he mutters with a worried tone, "funny folk indeed."

Melvin glances toward Tanari and quickly scans his hips for his spellbook, "Now wizards I understand, they practice an' learn their power, I respect them immensely for that. Hard work and rigourous training pays off."

"Sorcerers," he adds with a tinge of regret in his voice, "and minstrels I understand too, they practice their techniques half their life to perfect themselves. Some don't, my father he-" Melvin clamps his hand over his mouth, "err.. never had the ability, no never."
Melvin looks worried, but manages a look at the man sitting opposite himself, "Even priests I understand, their gods granting them power in exchange for sheer belief and discipline towards them. If dear Mael had blessed me with her gifts I would do the same."

"But them," he exclaims with a note of what appears to be a mixture of disbelief and disgust, "they I do not understand. Power from the trees? Gifts from the forest? Ability from the landscapes?" he asks more to himself than anyone else. "It's unnatural. Just... just unnatural!" he spits.

Giving Tanari a look of forgiveness, Melvin slips from the chair and shuffles towards his room, throwing the barkeeper a handful of silver coins as he walked through the door, half slamming it along the way.

 

"Since when have trees been unnatural, my halfling friend?" Cugaer enquired in a concered tone.

Turning to Turani he says "It will probably just be a carrier pigion or something like that. But I do wish it would hurry up, so we can get out of this... town!"

With that Cugaer sits back in his chair and listens to the sounds of the out side.

 

Seeing Melvin depart for his room, Tanari starts pondering on the things at hand. Unconsciously drumming his fingers on the table, he frowns as if intensely studying something invisible on the table. The lines and features of his face revealing a long life of toil, making him appear all the more weary of the spirit and vitality that so often is connected with the elves.

Taking a deep breath, Tanari leaves his speculation and produces his panpipe, revealing his bracers upon which sapphires glittered in the sun. Starting playing a relaxing melody, the flow of music seemed to wash away Tanari's mind and thoughts in it's delightful tunes.

 

The innkeeper and a few patrons of the inn, make a few annoyed glances at Tanari. The innkeeper gives a short, hacking cough, breaking, for a moment, the elven melody.

(Time is around 2:00 PM now; 4-5 hours until sunset - when the messenger should arrive.)

 

In his room, Melvin laid quietly on the bed. He was not asleep however, but in something more akin to elven reverie - the dreamlike state in which the fair ones relive past experiences and memories - for he was thinking of such.

Early in his years, Melvin had been left out in the street by his mother and father. So much unlike halflings, he thought. Never quite knowing why, although he suspected it had always had something to do with the talk around his old home's area about his father being 'that wierdo'.

Often had he suspected his father had inherited and developed (probably more by accident than anything else) magical ability, like that of a sorcerer. Melvin himself had not been told of this, and in truth, had never experienced it. Throughout his short life, he had been victim to several 'gut feelings', which he had often suspected as 'remains' of his father's ability.

Oh but how he wished! How he wished of being able to discern the thoughts of his foes, unleash pure energy at the whim of his hand and the call of his voice, to shield himself from harm with an thought of his mind! Ever since the day he had first seen his long eared friend Tanari work his magick in his study had he wanted to be able to do the same!

Of course, his friend had no idea about it. Never could he have known Melvin's eyes creeping over his shoulder each night onto the thick book he carried, his eyes pouring over the arcane writing within. Melvin, of course, couldn't understand it. Nevertheless, he never stopped trying. Having given silent prayers to the Dark Goddess Mael herself every evening since then, he all but wished that one day he would wake up and suddenly find that all his father's ability had been awakened within him! He prayed that Tanari would one day take him under his wing and teach him the way of the Mage, even without the magical affinity of the elves! He prayed that one day... one day he would have that ability!

But Melvin was no sorcerer. Melvin did not know how to use a spellbook the least. Melvin had never seen a Halfling use magic in his life. Melvin didn't have a chance.

Silently, curled up on his too-large bed in a too-large world, he finished his prayer - and wept.

 

Yrinnyn is of boreal stock, he doesn't believe in siesta. He believes, however, in good drink any time. For reasons not known even to himself - this is one of 'these' days - Yrinnyn refuses to drink without sufficient (female, pretty and single, that is) company. First, he checks the nearest vicinity...

 

(Chev - 2 sp for a pitcher of drink; 4 cp for a mug.)

There are few patrons in the Hermit's Shell, only four others besides the PCs. Three of the patrons consist of two men and one woman discussing something about Milacamm's recent marriage. The other patron is a person with long red hair, in a corner, head bowed beneath a blue cloak, apparently doing nothing. He (she?) may be sleeping.

Perhaps Yrinnyn may have better luck at another inn or tavern. Of course, he will have to ask around for that.

 

Yrinnyn has no choice but to leave the tavern... On second thought he'd better check on the long red hair. Perhaps it doesn't belong to a male. The chance, although abysmally low, being that it's a female and a pretty one, without much hope Yrinnyn approaches the direction in which the person is located. He is decided to leave the tavern should the opposite prove or should the discernment be impossible.