rpgventurer says:
... Stormridge ...OOC:
I apologize gang, I somehow started using the wrong name on my posts, and you guys naturally followed suit.
It should be BLACKridge.
This was my bad for using a boring, generic name for an NPC.
😅
Lady Blackridge leads you all outside, and gestures down the street, "
There is a public garden not far down the way here... I'm told that before the ruin of Osgiliath, you could see the Dome of Stars from there."
Turning to Eothain's question she looks up at the moon as if to tell the time and says, "
Well, what day is it today?", she chuckles to herself, but then she continues in a more serious tone, yet her thoughts are clearly meandering, "
9 years now, I suppose. Not all that long, really, in the scope of things. But the first of my kind in centuries, and it has been a significant period of my life, by now.
The relationship between Gondor and the Harad is seldom one that tolerates the position.
I am a historian by training and education. Originally an archivist by trade. Began as a simple student of the Harad... A clerk for the Great Hall of Records... Never saw myself doing something like this. Being... who i have become..."
She trails off until you all reach a small park, just a patch of grass no bigger than the footprint of a house, with some nicely kept flowering shrubs, and statute of a playful water spirit in the center.
She sighs heavily, walking up to a belly-high wall that separates the park from a precipitous drop of some 10 meters or more down to the next tier of Minas Tiriths streets and buildings.
The rest of the city below and most of Pelennor Fields stretches out before you.
She visibly steels herself, preparing for something, and then begins, "
You must understand...", her voice pitched like she's giving a lecture, "
... I love Gondor, and I. Love. My. Family...
And I would never do anything to purposefully put either of them in danger."
She sniffs as if to punctuate the point, and thinks on her words for just a moment before continuing, "
But there is a war going on in this world... That is not fought on a field of battle, nor at sea, nor even in observance of any borders, and it's not fought over gold, nor resources, nor land, nor blood! ..."
And then she casts her eyes to the side and sighs heavily again, "
And it's soldiers... are not infantry, nor navy, and often... not even warriors."
Her tone begins to soften, as it is slowly taken over by regret, "
Sometimes, in this war, they are historians, or archivists..."
She looks to you all, prepared to go on, but also she's gauging each of you, and it gives you a moment to say something if you wish.