Kuldahar
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Grateful for the hunters change of attitude, the dwarf turns his thoughts once more to the mysterious murder. The longer he thinks about it l, the less he feels he understands. Hoping the body might bring more answers than questions he tries to make small talk with the hunters to ease his thoughts for the time being.
"A fine day, if only a dwerf were a young’n once more, he might be hunting jacks or foxes through the light snow."
When she mentions the attack on Kuldahar, Keggruk's expression darkens. "Did that elf assassin lead another raid?"
Alalla turns to the humans. "I will be a while, Mirek. Call if you need me, but I trust these people. If you don't want to stay, I'll fill you all in back in Kuldahar."
Zenithral turns to his grandfather and looks him in the eye. "It's certainly been a while." Zenithral recounts the tale of his adventures thus far, not going into too much detail unless Arannis stops him. He tells him about Easthaven, the visions, the attacks on the way to Kuldahar and the attack on Kuldahar, the Vale of Shadows, Erestor, the yuanti, Bilewing, and then the Hand of Selandrine.
"...Erestor told me it was to save Ilmadia, so I went. We ascended the towers and the magic there replayed visions of the past. The attacks there...and those who were waiting for you...If you'd rather not discuss the happenings during that time, I shan't blame you...I have my own share of...regretful times...as a militia Captain in Bryn Shander..."
His hunters, encouraged by the light, sit down as well. Several orcs step into the light, but remain standing. Still, it doesn't look as though the two groups will begin stabbing each other any time soon.
Once within the tent she stretches, then ruffles her dreadlocks with a sigh. "I suppose I should start with this," Alalla says to Keggruk and Chaide, gesturing to herself. "The short story is that I made a bad call. A fatal one. I allowed the devil to gain the higher ground and he took advantage. I was duelling the war chief of the army outside of Targos and I went for an opening I shouldn't have. I died.
My mate made a deal with Poquelin to return me to life in exchange for setting me up for a meeting with Belhifets mistress. A small, reasonable request, surely. In fact, it led to a sequence of events that resulted in him making another deal. The orcish parts of me ripped away, in exchange for his soul."
Erevain is truly forgiven, and she had told herself she had made peace with it, but now in the presence of the man who had inspired her crusade, Alalla is almost surprised that her hands are steady as she pulls her hair back for them to see her human ears. She grimaces too, showing them her unremarkable canines.
"Poquelin- Belhifet- wanted me to raise him an orcish army to serve him in the hells. This is the price for my rebellion. I'm orcish in much of my upbringing and culture... but not in blood. Not anymore."
She ignores the lump in her throat and continues matter-of-factly. "What's more," Al parts her hair to reveal her horns for the second time tonight, "he replaced the missing pieces with fiend. Erevain amputated my tail, but the horns keep growing."
hey eventually come to a small shed near to a large pile of debris that must have once been a house. "The man who lived here died in the orog attack. The house was never rebuilt, because the town focused on fixing up the homes of the living first." Kaleel gestures to the shed. "The Father’s body is in there. The smell has surely set in by now, so you might want to cover your nose."
With every mention of Erestor his expression grows darker. "That man… I should never have let him near to Ilmadia. But then, keeping her from something she wants has always been a problem."
When Zenithral first mentions the Hand, Arannis’ eyes widen. In shock? In fear? "No! You went to that place? It is a death trap… And the… creatures… there. Better that they were ghosts." The elf puts his head in his hands and pulls at his hair – one of the most overt displays of emotion Zenithral has ever seen from his grandfather. It is some time before Arannis can articulate his desires. "What did you find? Was Ilmadia there? Sometimes she would retreat to that place, because she knew I would never follow her inside…"
"No. Gruumsh has no power over or claim on me any more. That was my husband's goal, and he managed that, at least, though Poquelin's method was not what he anticipated or wanted. But Erevain's fear for me made him hasty."
Despite her request to sit, Alalla paces the tent. "Belhifet is cunning, crafty. I only mentioned my mate's involvement by name so you could see how easily he manipulates people. Even without that, he is powerful. My friends and I can't defeat him alone."
She stops and unhooks the metal disk from the side of her belt. She shows Keggruk and Chaide the holy symbol of Torm. The gentle reverence with which she does so surprises her. "I turned to the god Torm for aid, and he answered. I've sworn myself as a paladin in his service, and he has promised his help both with Belhifet, and with my plans for the orcish people.
Any orc who enters his service as a knight or clergy member can find escape from Gruumsh for their soul. I don't know if that will free them from Gruumsh's influence and attempts to control them, but living according to Torm's precepts and serving him will free them from Nishrek. Formally following Torm is not a solution for all of our people, of course, but his teachings will help them all toward peace and civilization, and he has promised his assistance in my quest."
Al looks at the two orcs with determination. "I have sworn as part of my oaths to Torm that I will never stop looking for a way to free all orcs who forsake Gruumsh. I may not be orc blood, but my mother was Shelur of the Crushing Hand, and these are my people. I will fight for my place as chieftess. I will fight for our people."
Zenithral looks up at Arannis. "On the way up. With Erestor. There were people---including your brother---They were talking about you. Waiting for you..." Zenithral trails off. "Nothing you could have done---or not done---will change my respect for you, Grandfather. But I would like to know."
Rolls
Persuasion (To get Arannis to speak about what happened) - (1d20+7)
(1) + 7 = 8
MARRIAGE INSPIRATION - (1d20+7)
(11) + 7 = 18
He drops to his knees before Alalla. "I was the first to choose to follow you. Whatever path you make, I will strive to make it too. Teach me of Torm, and if I am worthy, let me join his ranks!"
Arannis closes his eyes. "The Hand of the Seldarine was my home. My brother, Lethias, and I were high-ranking members of the guard there. Kaylessa was my beloved. We were friends and companions of Larrel's daughter, Evayne.
The relationship with the dwarves of Dorn's Deep had already begun to decay when we heard rumors of orcs mustering in the mountains. When we found the orcs wielding weapons made by the dwarves, we felt we had been betrayed. Most of the elves, Larrel incuded, grew hateful of the dwarves. But Evayne... she believed otherwise.
When she expressed a desire to traveled to Dorn's Deep and meet with the dwarves, I feared for her safety. The mountains were dangerous, even traveling by hippogriff. A large retinue of guards would have drawn attention, both from monsters and from Evayne's father, who would not have approved of the mission. I volunteered to escort her, as guide, bodyguard, and friend.
I thought there would be time. I thought I would return with a dwarven army at my back to defend my home. When the dwarves delayed their discussions with Evayne I grew impatient and left. But still, I was too late. The Hand just came into my view when the mythal failed. I still remember the screams...
I tried to enter the Hand, to help my friends and kin, but I had to make my way through the breaking orc horde... what remained of it. When I stepped into my home I found it ravaged. Twisted. I saw horrors that will forever haunt me. Though not dead, not entirely, all of my loved ones were consigned to a state of... Well. You saw.
I could not stay there. I could not help them! I could not bear to look on them. I returned to Dorn's Deep only to find that it had also succumbed to the orcs, the inhabitants slain. As far as I knew, I was the only survivor of either city.
And that is when I left the North. The memories of our kind are long, Zenithral, and I did whatever I could to forget what I had seen. Forget all those whom I had failed. The years passed, and I made a new life. I met your grandmother, and we fell in love. Her brightness was like a sunrise that I had not felt in centuries.
And then Ilmadia..." Arannis grips the table hard, then stands. "I will return. Later." He moves towards the door.
Eventually, he looks over at where Saki and Halla are discussing and waits for them to finish.
Saki follows a moment later. "Zenithral, you have found yourself a wonderful young lady. Quick of wit, and beautiful besides! It's so nice to see you showing some attachment. I hope she didn't have to spin too much of a web-" Halla chokes on her drink and begins to cough "- to draw out some of your emotion. You never were very good at picking up on those kinds of cues."
Saki taps her chin thoughtfully. "And to think we only just barely missed the wedding. But I suppose we could still celebrate! Surely the town could use some cheer after the recent goings-on. Did a priest of Ilmater perform the ceremony? We can always redo that part..."
A look of abject horror begins to grow in Halla's eyes with every word that leaves Saki's mouth.
"A dwarf of old performed the ceremony and we determined the Great Oak was sufficient enough a witness. Ilmater sent me visions that led me to save her life, after all, so I'm pretty certain his hand was most certainly involved."
He holds up a hand and whispers just loud enough for Halla to still hear. "And she's somewhat of a party animal." He says with a grin. 'We wouldn't want her getting too wild." He returns to his normal speaking voice, playfully avoiding eye contact with Halla. "In all seriousness, though, I would appreciate at least some celebration..." He looks at Halla expectantly.
Rolls
Persuasion - (1d20+7)
(17) + 7 = 24
"I know you are worthy, Keggruk, or else you will strive to be with all your strength." She takes his large hand and lifts him to his feet. "Come. This deserves some sort of ceremony I think." She moves to exit the tent.