One Drow-sy summer afternoon - Igrainne and Skylerian.
Jul 16, 2019 15:48:24 GMT
Milo Brightmane, Igrainne (RETIRED), and 1 more like this
Post by Skylerian Morningdew on Jul 16, 2019 15:48:24 GMT
On the afternoon of the third day after their arrival, Sky sets out from Daring’s north gates on the back of their beautiful black horse. Following Andariel’s instructions, they head towards the Angelbark Woods, looking for the spot where they've been informed Igrainne has built her camp.
Anyone watching would notice the forensic way Sky investigates the edge of the woods – looking for tracks, and signs of habitation and passage. It takes them only an hour or two to locate Igrainne’s campsite – empty – and they pull up short, about 80ft away.
“Madame Igrainne?!” Sky calls out in a light, melodious voice.
A twig snaps to the their left. Sky turns just in time to see a young girl nock an arrow to a longbow of Eladrin design and point it at them.
"Who sent you? What do you want?" she says in Drowic. She has obsidian skin, white hair, blue eyes, and stands about 5'8" – tall for an Elf. She is wearing studded leather armour and a wine-red hooded cloak held in place by a leaf-shaped clasp with a stag's head emblem on it. She looks very young, about 19-20 years old.
Sky holds up their empty hands. Their skin is a very light purple – almost imperceptibly so: a mix of lilac and ash. They have prominent cheekbones but with none of a High Elf's haughty aloofness. Their eyes are a deep brown. At first, second, and third glances, they are clearly Elven, but beyond that it is difficult to pinpoint their heritage. What is plain to see, however, is that this creature's features are striking – not handsome nor pretty; but distinctive and bold. A high, straight - almost delicate nose; angular, warm eyes; full lips always on the verge of breaking into a smile; and white-and-black hair swept back from the face. They are devoid of any markings or symbols or jewellery - except for the ears: each lobe is pierced with ten rings apiece.
"Your friend Andariel told me I could find you here," they reply in perfect Drowic, the words coming easily and comfortably.
"Andariel?" Igrainne's brow remains furrowed but she slowly lowers her bow. "I can't tell if you're one of us or if you're darthiir*. What is your name?"
There is the tiniest twitch at the word ‘traitor’, but the stranger continues affably enough: “My name is Skylerian Morningdew – I am an Elf, like you, like Andariel. Please call me Sky. I assume you are Madame Igrainne?"
Wondering if she has accidentally offended them, Igrainne replies awkwardly. "Y-yeah, just Igrainne is fine," she says, rubbing the back of her neck. They don't look like they're from Menzoberranzan she thinks and Morningdew sure as Nine Hells isn't a Drow name. "What do you want from me?"
"What do I want from you? Just some conversation; just some information. May I approach and sit with you?" they say, shaking a bottle, "I bring a gift – Cloaker milk!"
Igrainne stands there gawking at them for a brief moment. For whatever reason, this mysterious, graceful figure makes her feel like a child. "...Alright." She beckons towards the campsite. "But if Andariel sent you, then you probably mean business. Am I wrong?"
Sky nudges the horse forward before pulling in beside a tree. They swing a leg over the animal's neck and slide down. After murmuring a few words in the horse’s ears, Sky turns and approaches the campsite, almost gliding over the ground. They sweep the long skirts of their robe under them and settle themselves down on a log, indicating for Igrainne to take a seat opposite. "Information is my business, I suppose. I've recently arrived in town and would know whatever I can about the local environment, particularly of an Elven nature. I have volunteered to join a diplomatic expedition to Vorsthold, and I believe there is a large Drow population both there and in a, uh, chasm? near Daring. Would you be able to tell me anything about either?"
They produce two glasses seemingly out of the air and pour out some Cloaker mik, holding one glass up to Igrainne.
Igrainne takes it and gingerly sits down facing Sky, wondering why she suddenly feels like a guest in her own home. "Oh, you mean that letter on the Ettin's noticeboard? I'm planning to go there too next week. Yes, there is a sizeable large Drow population dwelling underneath Kantas. The closest entrance to the Underdark that we know of is the Chasm of Daring Heights, outside the city walls, but Vorsthold has its own gate into it. The dwarves over there are constantly fighting monstrosities that come out of its depths.
"Monstrosities?" Sky asks, taking a sip from their glass.
"I've only heard rumours.” Igrainne replies. “The usual Drow and Duergar, but also... Illithids and Beholders."
"Is there such a thing as a usual Drow?" quips Sky.
Igrainne chuckles a little, relaxing. "Well, maybe not. Here in Kantas, they seem to follow the same matriarchal societal structure as in Faerun. There's a big city somewhere under this forest, called Aeschira. The ruling family is House Gorr, and their Matron Mother is named Kaleo. Right now, they're a little busy with a small rebellion."
"How unfortunate," Sky murmurs, taking another sip from the Cloaker milk. "What's the nature of this rebellion?"
Igrainne takes a gulp of her drink, visibly struggling to swallow it. "Damn," she curses softly.
"Just like father used to make, no?" Sky smiles slightly.
"I know very little of it.” Igrainne continues. “They call themselves the Sisterhood, and they're based--or formerly based--in a village called Xarribia, somewhere near the Chasm, or so I've heard. They revolted against House Gorr for something bad they did...I still don't know what it is."
"Dangerous place to camp, I would have thought.” Sky asks, ”Do no 'usual' Drow or monsters come out of the chasm near Daring?" putting the slightest of stresses on the word 'usual'.
"Actually, I've been wondering about that," Igrainne muses. "Unlike in Faerun, the Drow in here don't seem very interested in stirring up trouble with surface-dwellers, save for Vorsthold and the odd incident. In fact, I've heard of surfacer adventurers having peaceful contact with some Drow." She swills the glass of milk. "So what do you think the mayor of Vorsthold wants?"
"I was going to ask you the exact same question," Sky says ruefully, casting an eye over Igrainne and her camp, "I'm new in town and wanted to get the lay of the land ahead of our trip. And you? Are you new in town, also?"
"Yeah, I've been here for a little over a month. Kantas is an odd place, but it's not bad. There's still a lot I have to learn about it. So, why did you come here?"
"Information, primarily.” Sky responds, “I've read about this place in a few reports and it sounded fascinating. I wanted to see for myself what opportunities this land could provide." Sky seems very comfortable with what they're saying; the words and responses come easily to them. They seem very open and convivial.
"Huh. Whereabouts do you come from then?"
"Oh, a ways away.” Sky pours them both some more milk, “A much less pleasant place then here, climate-wise," they smile again, "Which would account for my tanned complexion....aha."
"Tanned?" Igrainne mutters incredulously under her breath. "Your Drowic is very good. Almost like you've spent a lot of time with the Drow, if you aren't one yourself."
"I have an ear for languages. And we are all Elves, after all. Would be a crying shame if we weren't able to converse properly. Are there many Elves in Daring? Any other unusual Drow like yourself?"
Igrainne looks down at her lap, suddenly conscious about her more human features. "Er, yes, several elves and half-elves. I've only ever seen one other Drow, though he insists he's a High Elf." She pauses to contemplate, taking another look at Sky as she says that. "To tell you the truth, I was born on the surface and I've only been to the Underdark once. It's part of the reason why I'm volunteering for this Vorsthold mission. I want to see more of it." She doesn't know why she's telling this stranger all this. They seem very...easy to talk to.
"Well, Kantas certainly seems to be a place where all sorts are welcome." With this, Sky stands up. "I fear I have taken up enough of your time. Thank you for the information and the conversation." Sky bows low to you. "I look forward to travelling with you to Vorsthold – let's hope we can both uncover more on our trip."
"Sure," Igrainne replies, standing up as well. "See you next time, er, Sky."
Sky bows again and remounts their horse, riding leisurely away humming a tune under their breath. Igrainne stands there for a moment or two, unsure what just happened, but feeling like they may not have received as much information as they proffered.
*darthiir is used by Drow to refer to surface Elves in general but literally means "traitors".
Anyone watching would notice the forensic way Sky investigates the edge of the woods – looking for tracks, and signs of habitation and passage. It takes them only an hour or two to locate Igrainne’s campsite – empty – and they pull up short, about 80ft away.
“Madame Igrainne?!” Sky calls out in a light, melodious voice.
A twig snaps to the their left. Sky turns just in time to see a young girl nock an arrow to a longbow of Eladrin design and point it at them.
"Who sent you? What do you want?" she says in Drowic. She has obsidian skin, white hair, blue eyes, and stands about 5'8" – tall for an Elf. She is wearing studded leather armour and a wine-red hooded cloak held in place by a leaf-shaped clasp with a stag's head emblem on it. She looks very young, about 19-20 years old.
Sky holds up their empty hands. Their skin is a very light purple – almost imperceptibly so: a mix of lilac and ash. They have prominent cheekbones but with none of a High Elf's haughty aloofness. Their eyes are a deep brown. At first, second, and third glances, they are clearly Elven, but beyond that it is difficult to pinpoint their heritage. What is plain to see, however, is that this creature's features are striking – not handsome nor pretty; but distinctive and bold. A high, straight - almost delicate nose; angular, warm eyes; full lips always on the verge of breaking into a smile; and white-and-black hair swept back from the face. They are devoid of any markings or symbols or jewellery - except for the ears: each lobe is pierced with ten rings apiece.
"Your friend Andariel told me I could find you here," they reply in perfect Drowic, the words coming easily and comfortably.
"Andariel?" Igrainne's brow remains furrowed but she slowly lowers her bow. "I can't tell if you're one of us or if you're darthiir*. What is your name?"
There is the tiniest twitch at the word ‘traitor’, but the stranger continues affably enough: “My name is Skylerian Morningdew – I am an Elf, like you, like Andariel. Please call me Sky. I assume you are Madame Igrainne?"
Wondering if she has accidentally offended them, Igrainne replies awkwardly. "Y-yeah, just Igrainne is fine," she says, rubbing the back of her neck. They don't look like they're from Menzoberranzan she thinks and Morningdew sure as Nine Hells isn't a Drow name. "What do you want from me?"
"What do I want from you? Just some conversation; just some information. May I approach and sit with you?" they say, shaking a bottle, "I bring a gift – Cloaker milk!"
Igrainne stands there gawking at them for a brief moment. For whatever reason, this mysterious, graceful figure makes her feel like a child. "...Alright." She beckons towards the campsite. "But if Andariel sent you, then you probably mean business. Am I wrong?"
Sky nudges the horse forward before pulling in beside a tree. They swing a leg over the animal's neck and slide down. After murmuring a few words in the horse’s ears, Sky turns and approaches the campsite, almost gliding over the ground. They sweep the long skirts of their robe under them and settle themselves down on a log, indicating for Igrainne to take a seat opposite. "Information is my business, I suppose. I've recently arrived in town and would know whatever I can about the local environment, particularly of an Elven nature. I have volunteered to join a diplomatic expedition to Vorsthold, and I believe there is a large Drow population both there and in a, uh, chasm? near Daring. Would you be able to tell me anything about either?"
They produce two glasses seemingly out of the air and pour out some Cloaker mik, holding one glass up to Igrainne.
Igrainne takes it and gingerly sits down facing Sky, wondering why she suddenly feels like a guest in her own home. "Oh, you mean that letter on the Ettin's noticeboard? I'm planning to go there too next week. Yes, there is a sizeable large Drow population dwelling underneath Kantas. The closest entrance to the Underdark that we know of is the Chasm of Daring Heights, outside the city walls, but Vorsthold has its own gate into it. The dwarves over there are constantly fighting monstrosities that come out of its depths.
"Monstrosities?" Sky asks, taking a sip from their glass.
"I've only heard rumours.” Igrainne replies. “The usual Drow and Duergar, but also... Illithids and Beholders."
"Is there such a thing as a usual Drow?" quips Sky.
Igrainne chuckles a little, relaxing. "Well, maybe not. Here in Kantas, they seem to follow the same matriarchal societal structure as in Faerun. There's a big city somewhere under this forest, called Aeschira. The ruling family is House Gorr, and their Matron Mother is named Kaleo. Right now, they're a little busy with a small rebellion."
"How unfortunate," Sky murmurs, taking another sip from the Cloaker milk. "What's the nature of this rebellion?"
Igrainne takes a gulp of her drink, visibly struggling to swallow it. "Damn," she curses softly.
"Just like father used to make, no?" Sky smiles slightly.
"I know very little of it.” Igrainne continues. “They call themselves the Sisterhood, and they're based--or formerly based--in a village called Xarribia, somewhere near the Chasm, or so I've heard. They revolted against House Gorr for something bad they did...I still don't know what it is."
"Dangerous place to camp, I would have thought.” Sky asks, ”Do no 'usual' Drow or monsters come out of the chasm near Daring?" putting the slightest of stresses on the word 'usual'.
"Actually, I've been wondering about that," Igrainne muses. "Unlike in Faerun, the Drow in here don't seem very interested in stirring up trouble with surface-dwellers, save for Vorsthold and the odd incident. In fact, I've heard of surfacer adventurers having peaceful contact with some Drow." She swills the glass of milk. "So what do you think the mayor of Vorsthold wants?"
"I was going to ask you the exact same question," Sky says ruefully, casting an eye over Igrainne and her camp, "I'm new in town and wanted to get the lay of the land ahead of our trip. And you? Are you new in town, also?"
"Yeah, I've been here for a little over a month. Kantas is an odd place, but it's not bad. There's still a lot I have to learn about it. So, why did you come here?"
"Information, primarily.” Sky responds, “I've read about this place in a few reports and it sounded fascinating. I wanted to see for myself what opportunities this land could provide." Sky seems very comfortable with what they're saying; the words and responses come easily to them. They seem very open and convivial.
"Huh. Whereabouts do you come from then?"
"Oh, a ways away.” Sky pours them both some more milk, “A much less pleasant place then here, climate-wise," they smile again, "Which would account for my tanned complexion....aha."
"Tanned?" Igrainne mutters incredulously under her breath. "Your Drowic is very good. Almost like you've spent a lot of time with the Drow, if you aren't one yourself."
"I have an ear for languages. And we are all Elves, after all. Would be a crying shame if we weren't able to converse properly. Are there many Elves in Daring? Any other unusual Drow like yourself?"
Igrainne looks down at her lap, suddenly conscious about her more human features. "Er, yes, several elves and half-elves. I've only ever seen one other Drow, though he insists he's a High Elf." She pauses to contemplate, taking another look at Sky as she says that. "To tell you the truth, I was born on the surface and I've only been to the Underdark once. It's part of the reason why I'm volunteering for this Vorsthold mission. I want to see more of it." She doesn't know why she's telling this stranger all this. They seem very...easy to talk to.
"Well, Kantas certainly seems to be a place where all sorts are welcome." With this, Sky stands up. "I fear I have taken up enough of your time. Thank you for the information and the conversation." Sky bows low to you. "I look forward to travelling with you to Vorsthold – let's hope we can both uncover more on our trip."
"Sure," Igrainne replies, standing up as well. "See you next time, er, Sky."
Sky bows again and remounts their horse, riding leisurely away humming a tune under their breath. Igrainne stands there for a moment or two, unsure what just happened, but feeling like they may not have received as much information as they proffered.
*darthiir is used by Drow to refer to surface Elves in general but literally means "traitors".