The Shadow Of Gold - Ruthenia Truelove - 01.09.20
Sept 13, 2020 22:58:00 GMT
BB, Igrainne (RETIRED), and 1 more like this
Post by Ruthenia Truelove on Sept 13, 2020 22:58:00 GMT
The cart raced along the open plains of the Dawnlands, away from Daring Heights, pulled by an imitation of a horse constructed of pure shadow, flying faster than its corporeal cousins ever could, without rider. The wooden axles creaked and bent under the stress that they clearly were not designed to take the extreme force generated by the unnatural speed at which it was moving. As the buildings and tenements disappeared into the distance, a low but loud crackling voice emanated from the cart.
“Here’s fine, Myrtle! Whoa, Belladonna!”
The horse came to a sudden stop, eliciting a loud exclamation of discontent as the cart jerked and jostled. The withered form of Ruthenia Truelove exited the cart, wrapped in a shawl across her shoulders over what was quickly becoming her trademark purple dress. As she finally straightened herself up and dusted herself off, aided by a skeletal mage hand, she turned to the horse and its invisible rider.
“We’re going to have to get you lessons, aren’t we Myrtle?” She let out a dry chuckle and turned back to the empty piece of land behind her. “Right, give me ten minutes and we’ll have a new home for the meanwhile.”
She got to work, tracing a circle into the ground as she chanted syllables and kicked up rocks and dirt. This continued for several minutes as the design she traced slowly became more and more intricate, before she eventually left the circle and raised her hands skyward. The ground suddenly heaved, and from the earth arose a cylindrical building of grey brick. The rumble of the shifting earth could be heard from a fair distance, but Ruthenia was making no attempt to hide here. Eventually the structure stopped rising, standing at a modest twenty feet high with a fairly small radius, but the physician was used to a lot worse than this.
“At least a month’s worth of construction in ten minutes. It’s a wonder that they’re not mass producing mages. Right, in we go.”
She dismissed the dark horse back into shadow with a wave and opened the wooden door to reveal a small study, with bookshelves that extended up to the very roof, a couple of writing desks on the side and a stone table in the middle. With another gesture a raven apparated from the shadows and took a position on a wooden perch. Ruthenia lowered herself gently into a small armchair before handing her pristine spellbook off to the empty space next to her.
“I hope you didn’t think you were done for the day, young madam. Take a pen and scribe for me, and Verbena, make sure she doesn’t make any spelling errors.” The raven squawked at her master’s command, carefully eyeing the unseen servant’s penmanship.
“Right, let us begin.”
It had come to my attention in my first few weeks of living in this new frontier land that if you want something done, you shift responsibilities to those referred to as ‘adventurers’. Essentially hired help, whether that be in matters of academics or sheer brutality. I much prefer the former but I am well versed in the latter, an inevitable consequence of living, let us say, an alternative lifestyle. In any case, this adventurer’s scheme is a convenient way to explore these lands in the company of arguably dependable folk, with the opportunity to learn a great deal about the nature of this world, gain greater insight into the nature of magic, or at least let one make a tidy profit to achieve the first two aims. So I signed myself up to what should have been a simple mission. It should have been anyway.
As the time to congregate before the portal approached, I felt that it was most prudent to hang back and observe who would join. And the dramatis personae in attendance was certainly a mixed bag.
First on our list was one Jaezred, a handsome drow male, but a drow male nonetheless, which is never a good sign. Full of the inherent arrogance of his kind, he quickly becomes tiresome to be around, and that is without the constant remarks at my age, well, visible age anyway. It is a wonder how a being can be several centuries older than you and still behave like an absolute child, but I do not even have to lift a finger to have my revenge. My humours will rot within me and I shall perish in maybe ten years or so. It may take a good while yet but eventually he will be as withered as I am and shall remain as such, in complete agony, for 50 years or more. My only complaint is that I would not be there to bear witness. He bears the marks of both sorcerous casting and divinity, and yet still pledges to Lolth, who as I understand doesn’t easily give her blessings to her male subjects. A curiosity to be sure, but not helpful in my goals.
The next was one Jacinta Montajay. One cannot help but feel drawn to halflings in some small capacity, especially when you essentially lived in a community with them for years. There’s a base naivety there that is considerably charming. It’s often their greatest asset but also their worst weakness. In this regard the young lady was more grounded than most but still too quick to trust and too slow to criticise. Could you believe that she actually defended the drow when I rightfully attributed his bad attitude to his heritage? Darling if only you could have seen and heard the things that I have you’d know that drow neither need nor want nor deserve your kindness. She also believes in the intrinsic value of mortal remains and had the gall to call me a graverobber. Tell me, who am I stealing from but a soul that has left this plane? I maintain the stance that remains do nobody any favours buried in the ground. At the table of a physician however is where they serve their peers. But still, differences in opinion aside, she was a practical person who could solve practical problems, so her company was most welcome.
The next three were each peculiar in their own ways. The first was Whistler, an elf of an origin I couldn’t quite place. Certainly not a drow, nor a sun or moon elf, and even the fables of the eladrin didn’t quite fit. Still, their behaviour started out as being odd, but as context slotted together an unfortunate truth presented itself. As I have already mentioned, the elven developmental progression is quite different from most other beings. Their bodies tend to outgrow their minds by a significant margin, leaving them to have to wait for almost a century before they could be considered to have the maturity of an adult as we understand one to be. Well it seems like the orphanage that poor young Whistler was from did not understand. After the company of figurative children, I found myself in the company of a literal one. The youngster was capable of defending themselves in their own right but that is not a fate that any child should have to endure.
I have read only fleeting accounts of the people of Gith, but it seemed to me that Ruk fit that image quite well. A rarity among rarities, though he certainly didn’t seem to be particularly bothered by this fact, nor did anyone else. It also seemed that he was also an adept wizard and didn’t immediately shun my talents, which is certainly appreciated among those of the art. The common folk can disparage us all they want, but when people of science and academics turn on you for ideological reasons, it is somehow even worse. Still, he spoke ill of Verbena so I shall have to dock him some points.
The last was a rather interesting gnome by the name of Melancholia. She kept the same capricious nature of the gnomish while being rather inept at deception and subterfuge, much to my chagrin, however she proved curious indeed by the fact that she herself was also a necromancer. A novice to be sure, nor quite on my level, but it is heartening to see youthful faces ply themselves at the craft. She also expressed interest in resurrection, which is certainly a good sign. I shall have to keep my eye on this one for sure.
Let it be said now that our actual objective was thoroughly uninteresting. Investigate disappearances and return bodies if possible. Now if only Melancholia had been a bit more tactful about the matter and if my present company was more receptive of the idea I could’ve gotten away with taking some remains for my own personal study but unfortunately that didn’t transpire. I am capable of handling myself just fine but I didn’t want to face two accomplished swordfighters at close range, so I conceded. Just complete the mission then, nothing too major, except for the insistence on stealth, which left me in the dust.
You see, human eyes are not nearly as well adapted to the darkness as other beings, and I have never been fond of using magic to solve problems that are solved as simply as lighting a torch, however this was unacceptable for this group and I was forced to tread several feet back from them. Demeaning to say the least. Then there was the quicksand. I don’t know how they expected me to climb up all that length of rope. I thought to summon Belladonna instead, assuming her speed could get me across, which would’ve worked had it not been for me losing grip of my torch and injuring her. We ran aground and I prepared for the worst but Ruk threw to me an artifact that let me fly. Some of the others saw fit to use translocation spells to get across. I have never felt the need to acquire these but in situations of practicality such as this their utility has become abundantly clear.
In any case I’m glad my readings on elemental beings proved fruitful, for I was able to inform the party about the xorn’s particular taste for rare metal and how it can smell them. That sylvan creature on the other hand…
Its binding hair rendered me useless for the entire encounter, most shameful, though I suppose that was the least that could’ve happened, given that Melancholia was nearly sent beyond this mortal plane by a flying boulder. In any case, the troublesome thing was soon dispatched and we found the remains, which young Whistler kept a close guard of while riding on my floating disk.
Upon our return, the priests at the temple to Tiamat had set for us a strange challenge. There were several items and we had to choose two of them to be our rewards. There was much back and forth deliberating as the priesthood had intended, for this is worship as far as they were concerned. In the end, we aimed for practical options, opting for a gold bar and a pouch of platinum pieces, and yet, my true rewards was due to be buried in the ground beneath. Such a shame.
As I parted from my strange company I felt that this certainly would not be the last time I met them.
Considerations:
1. Not having darkvision is troublesome and lighting torches can be even more so at times. A magical solution must be sought after.
2. My evasive options all require continuous locomotion, either by myself or another entity. In any case, translocation may prove useful.
3. While I am very easily able to injure with my current arsenal, there may come a time where I need to damage in more direct ways. Fireball is such a garish spell but I may just have to.
But before all, I must rest.
“Here’s fine, Myrtle! Whoa, Belladonna!”
The horse came to a sudden stop, eliciting a loud exclamation of discontent as the cart jerked and jostled. The withered form of Ruthenia Truelove exited the cart, wrapped in a shawl across her shoulders over what was quickly becoming her trademark purple dress. As she finally straightened herself up and dusted herself off, aided by a skeletal mage hand, she turned to the horse and its invisible rider.
“We’re going to have to get you lessons, aren’t we Myrtle?” She let out a dry chuckle and turned back to the empty piece of land behind her. “Right, give me ten minutes and we’ll have a new home for the meanwhile.”
She got to work, tracing a circle into the ground as she chanted syllables and kicked up rocks and dirt. This continued for several minutes as the design she traced slowly became more and more intricate, before she eventually left the circle and raised her hands skyward. The ground suddenly heaved, and from the earth arose a cylindrical building of grey brick. The rumble of the shifting earth could be heard from a fair distance, but Ruthenia was making no attempt to hide here. Eventually the structure stopped rising, standing at a modest twenty feet high with a fairly small radius, but the physician was used to a lot worse than this.
“At least a month’s worth of construction in ten minutes. It’s a wonder that they’re not mass producing mages. Right, in we go.”
She dismissed the dark horse back into shadow with a wave and opened the wooden door to reveal a small study, with bookshelves that extended up to the very roof, a couple of writing desks on the side and a stone table in the middle. With another gesture a raven apparated from the shadows and took a position on a wooden perch. Ruthenia lowered herself gently into a small armchair before handing her pristine spellbook off to the empty space next to her.
“I hope you didn’t think you were done for the day, young madam. Take a pen and scribe for me, and Verbena, make sure she doesn’t make any spelling errors.” The raven squawked at her master’s command, carefully eyeing the unseen servant’s penmanship.
“Right, let us begin.”
It had come to my attention in my first few weeks of living in this new frontier land that if you want something done, you shift responsibilities to those referred to as ‘adventurers’. Essentially hired help, whether that be in matters of academics or sheer brutality. I much prefer the former but I am well versed in the latter, an inevitable consequence of living, let us say, an alternative lifestyle. In any case, this adventurer’s scheme is a convenient way to explore these lands in the company of arguably dependable folk, with the opportunity to learn a great deal about the nature of this world, gain greater insight into the nature of magic, or at least let one make a tidy profit to achieve the first two aims. So I signed myself up to what should have been a simple mission. It should have been anyway.
As the time to congregate before the portal approached, I felt that it was most prudent to hang back and observe who would join. And the dramatis personae in attendance was certainly a mixed bag.
First on our list was one Jaezred, a handsome drow male, but a drow male nonetheless, which is never a good sign. Full of the inherent arrogance of his kind, he quickly becomes tiresome to be around, and that is without the constant remarks at my age, well, visible age anyway. It is a wonder how a being can be several centuries older than you and still behave like an absolute child, but I do not even have to lift a finger to have my revenge. My humours will rot within me and I shall perish in maybe ten years or so. It may take a good while yet but eventually he will be as withered as I am and shall remain as such, in complete agony, for 50 years or more. My only complaint is that I would not be there to bear witness. He bears the marks of both sorcerous casting and divinity, and yet still pledges to Lolth, who as I understand doesn’t easily give her blessings to her male subjects. A curiosity to be sure, but not helpful in my goals.
The next was one Jacinta Montajay. One cannot help but feel drawn to halflings in some small capacity, especially when you essentially lived in a community with them for years. There’s a base naivety there that is considerably charming. It’s often their greatest asset but also their worst weakness. In this regard the young lady was more grounded than most but still too quick to trust and too slow to criticise. Could you believe that she actually defended the drow when I rightfully attributed his bad attitude to his heritage? Darling if only you could have seen and heard the things that I have you’d know that drow neither need nor want nor deserve your kindness. She also believes in the intrinsic value of mortal remains and had the gall to call me a graverobber. Tell me, who am I stealing from but a soul that has left this plane? I maintain the stance that remains do nobody any favours buried in the ground. At the table of a physician however is where they serve their peers. But still, differences in opinion aside, she was a practical person who could solve practical problems, so her company was most welcome.
The next three were each peculiar in their own ways. The first was Whistler, an elf of an origin I couldn’t quite place. Certainly not a drow, nor a sun or moon elf, and even the fables of the eladrin didn’t quite fit. Still, their behaviour started out as being odd, but as context slotted together an unfortunate truth presented itself. As I have already mentioned, the elven developmental progression is quite different from most other beings. Their bodies tend to outgrow their minds by a significant margin, leaving them to have to wait for almost a century before they could be considered to have the maturity of an adult as we understand one to be. Well it seems like the orphanage that poor young Whistler was from did not understand. After the company of figurative children, I found myself in the company of a literal one. The youngster was capable of defending themselves in their own right but that is not a fate that any child should have to endure.
I have read only fleeting accounts of the people of Gith, but it seemed to me that Ruk fit that image quite well. A rarity among rarities, though he certainly didn’t seem to be particularly bothered by this fact, nor did anyone else. It also seemed that he was also an adept wizard and didn’t immediately shun my talents, which is certainly appreciated among those of the art. The common folk can disparage us all they want, but when people of science and academics turn on you for ideological reasons, it is somehow even worse. Still, he spoke ill of Verbena so I shall have to dock him some points.
The last was a rather interesting gnome by the name of Melancholia. She kept the same capricious nature of the gnomish while being rather inept at deception and subterfuge, much to my chagrin, however she proved curious indeed by the fact that she herself was also a necromancer. A novice to be sure, nor quite on my level, but it is heartening to see youthful faces ply themselves at the craft. She also expressed interest in resurrection, which is certainly a good sign. I shall have to keep my eye on this one for sure.
Let it be said now that our actual objective was thoroughly uninteresting. Investigate disappearances and return bodies if possible. Now if only Melancholia had been a bit more tactful about the matter and if my present company was more receptive of the idea I could’ve gotten away with taking some remains for my own personal study but unfortunately that didn’t transpire. I am capable of handling myself just fine but I didn’t want to face two accomplished swordfighters at close range, so I conceded. Just complete the mission then, nothing too major, except for the insistence on stealth, which left me in the dust.
You see, human eyes are not nearly as well adapted to the darkness as other beings, and I have never been fond of using magic to solve problems that are solved as simply as lighting a torch, however this was unacceptable for this group and I was forced to tread several feet back from them. Demeaning to say the least. Then there was the quicksand. I don’t know how they expected me to climb up all that length of rope. I thought to summon Belladonna instead, assuming her speed could get me across, which would’ve worked had it not been for me losing grip of my torch and injuring her. We ran aground and I prepared for the worst but Ruk threw to me an artifact that let me fly. Some of the others saw fit to use translocation spells to get across. I have never felt the need to acquire these but in situations of practicality such as this their utility has become abundantly clear.
In any case I’m glad my readings on elemental beings proved fruitful, for I was able to inform the party about the xorn’s particular taste for rare metal and how it can smell them. That sylvan creature on the other hand…
Its binding hair rendered me useless for the entire encounter, most shameful, though I suppose that was the least that could’ve happened, given that Melancholia was nearly sent beyond this mortal plane by a flying boulder. In any case, the troublesome thing was soon dispatched and we found the remains, which young Whistler kept a close guard of while riding on my floating disk.
Upon our return, the priests at the temple to Tiamat had set for us a strange challenge. There were several items and we had to choose two of them to be our rewards. There was much back and forth deliberating as the priesthood had intended, for this is worship as far as they were concerned. In the end, we aimed for practical options, opting for a gold bar and a pouch of platinum pieces, and yet, my true rewards was due to be buried in the ground beneath. Such a shame.
As I parted from my strange company I felt that this certainly would not be the last time I met them.
Considerations:
1. Not having darkvision is troublesome and lighting torches can be even more so at times. A magical solution must be sought after.
2. My evasive options all require continuous locomotion, either by myself or another entity. In any case, translocation may prove useful.
3. While I am very easily able to injure with my current arsenal, there may come a time where I need to damage in more direct ways. Fireball is such a garish spell but I may just have to.
But before all, I must rest.