Midnight RPG 27.878 - Revision history

Knockwood: Reverted edits by 87.101.244.6 (Talk); changed back to last version by Demongg

2008-02-26T03:45:26Z

Reverted edits by 87.101.244.6 (Talk); changed back to last version by Demongg

← Older revision		Revision as of 03:45, 26 February 2008
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	~~orsitdelel~~
	==Eranon==		==Eranon==

87.101.244.6: licnaletoac

2008-02-26T00:28:55Z

licnaletoac

← Older revision		Revision as of 00:28, 26 February 2008
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			orsitdelel
	==Eranon==		==Eranon==

Demongg at 10:17, 6 October 2007

2007-10-06T10:17:46Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 10:17, 6 October 2007
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	==~~QUESTION~~==		==Etri the witch-woman==
	~~I can~~'~~t remember - did you give~~ Etri ~~you name?~~ ~~Did Zal~~'~~Kazzir?~~		'''''"... gift...?"''''' Etri says, seemingly saddened by Eranon's unwillingness come with her. '''''"...A gift so sweet that only one of the woodland folk could meet the demand. You have my power if young Eranon, I might share a warm place in your heart. Kiss me... Drink of passion on my lips... Give me your full embracing power for the moment our lips touch, and then be on your way while I recall the fondness that a wilder grants me this day. A kiss and a promise will suffice for that which I offer. You will find no better bargain Eranon."''''' Etri looks into Eranon's eyes looking for his answer, neither looking ashamed nor over-eager to recieve the request...

	~~thanks~~.

	~~==Answer==~~

	~~I believe I told her at game last week, not in~~ the ~~bluebook~~. ~~Let's say I did~~, ~~since~~ I ~~have no problem with her knowing~~ my ~~name~~, I ~~would~~, ~~in fact, like her~~ to.

71.231.152.166 at 03:27, 6 October 2007

2007-10-06T03:27:43Z

@@ Line 35: / Line 35: @@
 '''''".... yes, Caransil... the world carries on it so much that is ugly.  But one must remember - our ancestors and forefathers knew another time, another place.  Yet it was the same.  This 'ugly' you speak of is only a stain upon the world.  But with soap... water... perhaps a dab of vinegar in the darkest of places even the most common can srub that stain from the surface."'''''  Etri, glares in the direction of the fat woman down the saloon behind the bar... from behind her head you can see a faint glow seemingly from her eyes of crimson.  The barkeep quickly stops picking at the mole on her chin, slows her wiping of the countertop and stumbles a bit before retreating into the kitchen.  Before turning back to you Etri skims her hand across her bald scalp and says...  '''''"...I too feel as a foreinger here young Caransil.  While Prince Norfall sees the beauty and heart of my and mine, I fear we still command fear - even in those that would be our own people.  They look at me as if I were of House Chander or Regard..."'''''  ...though her eyes do not match the melancholy of her words speaking of fear and distrust, she squares her shoulders and hops off her stool-perch.  Even in bare feet she is a good 5" taller than Eranon. She wraps her cloak about her motioning to take the Elf's arm to walk out of the '''''"The Hall of the Harpies"''''' saloon.  the L's have grown a touch more resilient, reawakening this morning as the early dawn begins to turn mid-morning.  <br> <br> '''''"Now then... I see my ship is about to set sail.  If you'll have me..."''''' again looking if Eranon will allow her to take his arm.  '''''"...we shall make way and you can meet my sisters.  There..."''''' she points off into the cove, beyond the fogs of the reef waters Eranon can make out a ridge not far on a neighboring island.  '''''"...there on 'Tumbledown' my sisters ply their trade, Prince Norfall's estate waits us..."'''''  Etri looks to the elf, smiling again - noticing her height difference as she bends her knees a touch to stand at Eranon's height, and her teeth gleam white with a broader smile piercing the soot and sod naturally collected on her beautiful face from time aboard "the Greedy Knave"...  '''''"Shall we..?"'''''  she says, glancing at the ground.
 ==QUESTION==
@@ Line 40: / Line 67: @@
 thanks.

Demongg: /* Etri, the witch-woman */

2007-10-05T17:48:32Z

Etri, the witch-woman

← Older revision		Revision as of 17:48, 5 October 2007
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	'''NOTE''' - just because I'm having you roll, doesn't mean anything's suspect. Being that you've trained yourself to be watchful of such things...		'''NOTE''' - just because I'm having you roll, doesn't mean anything's suspect. Being that you've trained yourself to be watchful of such things...
	:: '' '''ROLL:''' Eranon (Sense Motive +2) ROLLED: 17+2 = 19 '' <br> ''With this roll - Eranon sees past the flirtatious guile of Etri the witch woman... Curious, she surely is. Hateful of the Southman, she surely is. Yet if there is something else... ~~"wrong"~~ about her you cannot tell. Her request for "quid pro quo" seems to be common to her nature. It seems safe, for now.''		:: '' '''ROLL:''' Eranon (Sense Motive +2) ROLLED: 17+2 = 19 '' <br> ''With this roll - Eranon sees past the flirtatious guile of Etri the witch woman... Curious, she surely is. Hateful of the Southman, she surely is. Yet if there is something else... different or majestic(?) maybe about her you cannot tell. Her request for "quid pro quo" seems to be common to her nature. It seems safe, for now.''


	'''''".... yes, Caransil... the world carries on it so much that is ugly. But one must remember - our ancestors and forefathers knew another time, another place. Yet it was the same. This 'ugly' you speak of is only a stain upon the world. But with soap... water... perhaps a dab of vinegar in the darkest of places even the most common can srub that stain from the surface."''''' Etri, glares in the direction of the fat woman down the saloon behind the bar... from behind her head you can see a faint glow seemingly from her eyes of crimson. The barkeep quickly stops picking at the mole on her chin, slows her wiping of the countertop and stumbles a bit before retreating into the kitchen. Before turning back to you Etri skims her hand across her bald scalp and says... '''''"...I too feel as a foreinger here young Caransil. While Prince Norfall sees the beauty and heart of my and mine, I fear we still command fear - even in those that would be our own people. They look at me as if I were of House Chander or Regard..."''''' ...though her eyes do not match the melancholy of her words speaking of fear and distrust, she squares her shoulders and hops off her stool-perch. Even in bare feet she is a good 5" taller than Eranon. She wraps her cloak about her motioning to take the Elf's arm to walk out of the '''''"The Hall of the Harpies"''''' saloon. the L's have grown a touch more resilient, reawakening this morning as the early dawn begins to turn mid-morning. <br> <br> '''''"Now then... I see my ship is about to set sail. If you'll have me..."''''' again looking if Eranon will allow her to take his arm. '''''"...we shall make way and you can meet my sisters. There..."''''' she points off into the cove, beyond the fogs of the reef waters Eranon can make out a ridge not far on a neighboring island. '''''"...there on 'Tumbledown' my sisters ply their trade, Prince Norfall's estate waits us..."''''' Etri looks to the elf, smiling again - noticing her height difference as she bends her knees a touch to stand at Eranon's height, and her teeth gleam white with a broader smile piercing the soot and sod naturally collected on her beautiful face from time aboard "the Greedy Knave"... '''''"Shall we..?"''''' she says, glancing at the ground.		'''''".... yes, Caransil... the world carries on it so much that is ugly. But one must remember - our ancestors and forefathers knew another time, another place. Yet it was the same. This 'ugly' you speak of is only a stain upon the world. But with soap... water... perhaps a dab of vinegar in the darkest of places even the most common can srub that stain from the surface."''''' Etri, glares in the direction of the fat woman down the saloon behind the bar... from behind her head you can see a faint glow seemingly from her eyes of crimson. The barkeep quickly stops picking at the mole on her chin, slows her wiping of the countertop and stumbles a bit before retreating into the kitchen. Before turning back to you Etri skims her hand across her bald scalp and says... '''''"...I too feel as a foreinger here young Caransil. While Prince Norfall sees the beauty and heart of my and mine, I fear we still command fear - even in those that would be our own people. They look at me as if I were of House Chander or Regard..."''''' ...though her eyes do not match the melancholy of her words speaking of fear and distrust, she squares her shoulders and hops off her stool-perch. Even in bare feet she is a good 5" taller than Eranon. She wraps her cloak about her motioning to take the Elf's arm to walk out of the '''''"The Hall of the Harpies"''''' saloon. the L's have grown a touch more resilient, reawakening this morning as the early dawn begins to turn mid-morning. <br> <br> '''''"Now then... I see my ship is about to set sail. If you'll have me..."''''' again looking if Eranon will allow her to take his arm. '''''"...we shall make way and you can meet my sisters. There..."''''' she points off into the cove, beyond the fogs of the reef waters Eranon can make out a ridge not far on a neighboring island. '''''"...there on 'Tumbledown' my sisters ply their trade, Prince Norfall's estate waits us..."''''' Etri looks to the elf, smiling again - noticing her height difference as she bends her knees a touch to stand at Eranon's height, and her teeth gleam white with a broader smile piercing the soot and sod naturally collected on her beautiful face from time aboard "the Greedy Knave"... '''''"Shall we..?"''''' she says, glancing at the ground.



	==QUESTION==		==QUESTION==

Demongg at 17:44, 5 October 2007

2007-10-05T17:44:40Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 17:44, 5 October 2007
Line 24:		Line 24:

	"I come with the curiosity of a foreigner. I wish to know of you and your coven, I would meet them if you would have it. I am most curious how you staved off the black boat."		"I come with the curiosity of a foreigner. I wish to know of you and your coven, I would meet them if you would have it. I am most curious how you staved off the black boat."


			==Etri, the witch-woman==
			''Ignoring the breakfast plate Etri turns with her back to the bar, leaning back elbows holding her on the bar. Here in this place, in this dawning time, she seems to come more alive than when aboard the "Spear of Grief" among others... She smiles and looks you up and down again....'' '''''"...elf, I am taken at a lose - you seem not to care for the looks of a woman, yet you have the stamina to ask her age... heheh"''''' ''Etri says leaning forward to the elf.'' '''''"....it was his eyes that made me take notice... they grew darker and finally turned onyx black, no pupil, no light. Not unlike your Southman. Not unlike your Queen. Yet the mystery of the black soul-windows may be answered differently from the perspective and position of each. <br> That cloak on your back... It rings of the needle sewn by the daughter of Kirinhi, does it not?"''''' ...the witch-woman's smile turns a touch devious as she runs her nail down Eranon's chest. <br> <br> '''''"something for something, what for what, give and take, tit and tat... eh young Caransil?"''''' slipping back to a comforting grin as she slumps back to her elbow lean back against the bar once more... <br> '''''"You have the breeze of magery about you Elf - what of the Southman, your Sarcosan. What is his nature? What does he want? Whom does he serve?... Nothing for nothing. I can take you to my coven, I can give up my bounty - though I will caution... My will may not be wise in the manner the Southman trusts, his snake-tongue will not turn my head as it seems to have turned 'cousin' Disa."'''''


			'''NOTE''' - just because I'm having you roll, doesn't mean anything's suspect. Being that you've trained yourself to be watchful of such things...
			:: '' '''ROLL:''' Eranon (Sense Motive +2) ROLLED: 17+2 = 19 '' <br> ''With this roll - Eranon sees past the flirtatious guile of Etri the witch woman... Curious, she surely is. Hateful of the Southman, she surely is. Yet if there is something else... "wrong" about her you cannot tell. Her request for "quid pro quo" seems to be common to her nature. It seems safe, for now.''


			'''''".... yes, Caransil... the world carries on it so much that is ugly. But one must remember - our ancestors and forefathers knew another time, another place. Yet it was the same. This 'ugly' you speak of is only a stain upon the world. But with soap... water... perhaps a dab of vinegar in the darkest of places even the most common can srub that stain from the surface."''''' Etri, glares in the direction of the fat woman down the saloon behind the bar... from behind her head you can see a faint glow seemingly from her eyes of crimson. The barkeep quickly stops picking at the mole on her chin, slows her wiping of the countertop and stumbles a bit before retreating into the kitchen. Before turning back to you Etri skims her hand across her bald scalp and says... '''''"...I too feel as a foreinger here young Caransil. While Prince Norfall sees the beauty and heart of my and mine, I fear we still command fear - even in those that would be our own people. They look at me as if I were of House Chander or Regard..."''''' ...though her eyes do not match the melancholy of her words speaking of fear and distrust, she squares her shoulders and hops off her stool-perch. Even in bare feet she is a good 5" taller than Eranon. She wraps her cloak about her motioning to take the Elf's arm to walk out of the '''''"The Hall of the Harpies"''''' saloon. the L's have grown a touch more resilient, reawakening this morning as the early dawn begins to turn mid-morning. <br> <br> '''''"Now then... I see my ship is about to set sail. If you'll have me..."''''' again looking if Eranon will allow her to take his arm. '''''"...we shall make way and you can meet my sisters. There..."''''' she points off into the cove, beyond the fogs of the reef waters Eranon can make out a ridge not far on a neighboring island. '''''"...there on 'Tumbledown' my sisters ply their trade, Prince Norfall's estate waits us..."''''' Etri looks to the elf, smiling again - noticing her height difference as she bends her knees a touch to stand at Eranon's height, and her teeth gleam white with a broader smile piercing the soot and sod naturally collected on her beautiful face from time aboard "the Greedy Knave"... '''''"Shall we..?"''''' she says, glancing at the ground.



			==QUESTION==
			I can't remember - did you give Etri you name? Did Zal'Kazzir?

			thanks.

134.39.55.175 at 15:17, 5 October 2007

2007-10-05T15:17:44Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 15:17, 5 October 2007
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	==Eranon==		==Eranon==

	'''Eranon: (in high elven)''' "~~Eranon balks a moment, listening to the woman's words.~~ You remember this year yourself? That cannot be. You must be far more wise that I had imagined. I must, however, agree with you that it is a beautiful world, though many ugly things may dwell on it."		''Eranon balks a moment, listening to the woman's words''

			'''Eranon: (in high elven)''' "You remember this year yourself? That cannot be. You must be far more wise that I had imagined. I must, however, agree with you that it is a beautiful world, though many ugly things may dwell on it."

	"I come with the curiosity of a foreigner. I wish to know of you and your coven, I would meet them if you would have it. I am most curious how you staved off the black boat."		"I come with the curiosity of a foreigner. I wish to know of you and your coven, I would meet them if you would have it. I am most curious how you staved off the black boat."

134.39.55.175 at 15:16, 5 October 2007

2007-10-05T15:16:40Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 15:16, 5 October 2007
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	==Etri, the witch-woman==		==Etri, the witch-woman==
	''Curling one leg up under her on the tall stool-perch, the other leg dangles bare and naked to the open air... her cloaks slip off her shoulder as she licks her fingernails while looking at you. <br> She pulls the cloth material up again onto her shoulders with a hint of her own modesty. It is obvious that Etri doesnot understand your songlike words. The elven tongue slips past her... She looks to her bone back, considering if you are worth toiling her bones for the morning. <br> She smiles at you, using her long Dorn-white leg to grasp another stool... It tilts and nearly falls, yet her grace is just enough to manage it with care. It scrapes along the floor with a pitched squeal, lasting only for a moment or two until it slips in-between you and she. She looks down at the stool, twists her toe on the seat and closes her eyes for a slight moment. By the time you glance down she's already rolling her bones and muttering in what must be a Norther-speak. <br> The sharp words of her spell slowly turns into the songs of the Erethor languages... as Etri says...''<br> <br> <br> '''''"...good morning hansome... what will you have of me on this morning?"''''' ''turning on the stool she slips her hands between her legs as if sitting on her hands in anticipation of your joining her today. Looking about she nudges off the fat bartender, who seemed uneased with the words of magery...'' '''''"...we are alone fairy-man, but I cannot say that wisdom is what I can give you on such an early morning with such a beautiful day ahead of us..."''''' <br> ''The fog of the morning seems to be burning down to a managable level as the moments pass... Soon, within the hour, many of the beasts that parade as men around this isle will be awake and about... Etri speaks again, not softly as before. She doesn't fear the morning nor the night nor the Shadow. If not for all the odd things your elf-eyes have witnessed, this would seem odd... yet still... something... something....''<br> <br> '''''"...such a beautiful day... such a beautiful world..."''''' ''as she pushes back the hood of her cloak stroking across her hariless temple. Baring the hallmark of her people, the Dorn race your people have spoken of.'' <br> '''''"....such a beautiful year... it reminds me of the Year Before the Rain. That was the time Shadiuil was born, the first of your people's High Kings... the greatest of his line... Until your Queen. Until the summer ends, but not thereafter..."''''' ''Etri pauses and looks up at you in pity....''		''Curling one leg up under her on the tall stool-perch, the other leg dangles bare and naked to the open air... her cloaks slip off her shoulder as she licks her fingernails while looking at you. <br> She pulls the cloth material up again onto her shoulders with a hint of her own modesty. It is obvious that Etri doesnot understand your songlike words. The elven tongue slips past her... She looks to her bone back, considering if you are worth toiling her bones for the morning. <br> She smiles at you, using her long Dorn-white leg to grasp another stool... It tilts and nearly falls, yet her grace is just enough to manage it with care. It scrapes along the floor with a pitched squeal, lasting only for a moment or two until it slips in-between you and she. She looks down at the stool, twists her toe on the seat and closes her eyes for a slight moment. By the time you glance down she's already rolling her bones and muttering in what must be a Norther-speak. <br> The sharp words of her spell slowly turns into the songs of the Erethor languages... as Etri says...''<br> <br> <br> '''''"...good morning hansome... what will you have of me on this morning?"''''' ''turning on the stool she slips her hands between her legs as if sitting on her hands in anticipation of your joining her today. Looking about she nudges off the fat bartender, who seemed uneased with the words of magery...'' '''''"...we are alone fairy-man, but I cannot say that wisdom is what I can give you on such an early morning with such a beautiful day ahead of us..."''''' <br> ''The fog of the morning seems to be burning down to a managable level as the moments pass... Soon, within the hour, many of the beasts that parade as men around this isle will be awake and about... Etri speaks again, not softly as before. She doesn't fear the morning nor the night nor the Shadow. If not for all the odd things your elf-eyes have witnessed, this would seem odd... yet still... something... something....''<br> <br> '''''"...such a beautiful day... such a beautiful world..."''''' ''as she pushes back the hood of her cloak stroking across her hariless temple. Baring the hallmark of her people, the Dorn race your people have spoken of.'' <br> '''''"....such a beautiful year... it reminds me of the Year Before the Rain. That was the time Shadiuil was born, the first of your people's High Kings... the greatest of his line... Until your Queen. Until the summer ends, but not thereafter..."''''' ''Etri pauses and looks up at you in pity....''


			==Eranon==

			'''Eranon: (in high elven)''' "Eranon balks a moment, listening to the woman's words. You remember this year yourself? That cannot be. You must be far more wise that I had imagined. I must, however, agree with you that it is a beautiful world, though many ugly things may dwell on it."

			"I come with the curiosity of a foreigner. I wish to know of you and your coven, I would meet them if you would have it. I am most curious how you staved off the black boat."

Demongg: /* Etri, the witch-woman */

2007-10-05T10:16:51Z

Etri, the witch-woman

← Older revision		Revision as of 10:16, 5 October 2007
Line 14:		Line 14:

	==Etri, the witch-woman==		==Etri, the witch-woman==
	''Curling one leg up under her on the tall stool-perch, the other leg dangles bare and naked to the open air... her cloaks slip off her shoulder as she licks her fingernails while looking at you. <br> She pulls the cloth material up again onto her shoulders with a hint of her own modesty. It is obvious that Etri doesnot understand your songlike words. The elven tongue slips past her... She looks to her bone back, considering if you are worth toiling her bones for the morning. <br> She smiles at you, using her long Dorn-white leg to grasp another stool... It tilts and nearly falls, yet her grace is just enough to manage it with care. It scrapes along the floor with a pitched squeal, lasting only for a moment or two until it slips in-between you and she. She looks down at the stool, twists her toe on the seat and closes her eyes for a slight moment. By the time you glance down she's already rolling her bones and muttering in what must be a Norther-speak. <br> The sharp words of her spell slowly turns into the songs of the Erethor languages... as Etri says...''<br> <br> <br> '''''"...good morning hansome... what will you have of me on this morning?"''''' ''turning on the stool she slips her hands between her legs as if sitting on her hands in anticipation of your joining her today. Looking about she nudges off the fat bartender, who seemed uneased with the words of magery...'' '''''"...we are alone fairy-man, but I cannot say that wisdom is what I can give you on such an early morning with such a beautiful day ahead of us..."''''' <br> ''The fog of the morning seems to be burning down to a managable level as the moments pass... Soon, within the hour, many of the beasts that parade as men around this isle will be awake and about... Etri speaks again, not softly as before. She doesn't fear the morning nor the night nor the Shadow. If not for all the odd things your elf-eyes have witnessed, this would seem odd... yet still... something... something....''<br> <br> '''''"...such a beautiful day... such a beautiful world..."''''' ''as she pushes back the hood of her cloak stroking across her hariless temple. Baring the hallmark of her people, the Dorn race your people have spoken of.'' <br> '''''"....such a beautiful year... it reminds me of the Year Before the Rain. That was the time Shadiuil was born, the first of your people's High Kings... the greatest of his line... Until your Queen. Until the summer ends, but not thereafter..."'''''		''Curling one leg up under her on the tall stool-perch, the other leg dangles bare and naked to the open air... her cloaks slip off her shoulder as she licks her fingernails while looking at you. <br> She pulls the cloth material up again onto her shoulders with a hint of her own modesty. It is obvious that Etri doesnot understand your songlike words. The elven tongue slips past her... She looks to her bone back, considering if you are worth toiling her bones for the morning. <br> She smiles at you, using her long Dorn-white leg to grasp another stool... It tilts and nearly falls, yet her grace is just enough to manage it with care. It scrapes along the floor with a pitched squeal, lasting only for a moment or two until it slips in-between you and she. She looks down at the stool, twists her toe on the seat and closes her eyes for a slight moment. By the time you glance down she's already rolling her bones and muttering in what must be a Norther-speak. <br> The sharp words of her spell slowly turns into the songs of the Erethor languages... as Etri says...''<br> <br> <br> '''''"...good morning hansome... what will you have of me on this morning?"''''' ''turning on the stool she slips her hands between her legs as if sitting on her hands in anticipation of your joining her today. Looking about she nudges off the fat bartender, who seemed uneased with the words of magery...'' '''''"...we are alone fairy-man, but I cannot say that wisdom is what I can give you on such an early morning with such a beautiful day ahead of us..."''''' <br> ''The fog of the morning seems to be burning down to a managable level as the moments pass... Soon, within the hour, many of the beasts that parade as men around this isle will be awake and about... Etri speaks again, not softly as before. She doesn't fear the morning nor the night nor the Shadow. If not for all the odd things your elf-eyes have witnessed, this would seem odd... yet still... something... something....''<br> <br> '''''"...such a beautiful day... such a beautiful world..."''''' ''as she pushes back the hood of her cloak stroking across her hariless temple. Baring the hallmark of her people, the Dorn race your people have spoken of.'' <br> '''''"....such a beautiful year... it reminds me of the Year Before the Rain. That was the time Shadiuil was born, the first of your people's High Kings... the greatest of his line... Until your Queen. Until the summer ends, but not thereafter..."''''' ''Etri pauses and looks up at you in pity....''

Demongg: /* Etri, the witch-woman */

2007-10-05T10:16:05Z

Etri, the witch-woman

← Older revision		Revision as of 10:16, 5 October 2007
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	==Etri, the witch-woman==		==Etri, the witch-woman==
	''Curling one leg up under her on the tall stool-perch, the other leg dangles bare and naked to the open air... her cloaks slip off her shoulder as she licks her fingernails while looking at you. <br> She pulls the cloth material up again onto her shoulders with a hint of her own modesty. It is obvious that Etri doesnot understand your songlike words. The elven tongue slips past her... She looks to her bone back, considering if you are worth toiling her bones for the morning. <br> She smiles at you, using her long Dorn-white leg to grasp another stool... It tilts and nearly falls, yet her grace is just enough to manage it with care. It scrapes along the floor with a pitched squeal, lasting only for a moment or two until it slips in-between you and she. She looks down at the stool, twists her toe on the seat and closes her eyes for a slight moment. By the time you glance down she's already rolling her bones and muttering in what must be a Norther-speak. <br> The sharp words of her spell slowly turns into the songs of the Erethor languages... as Etri says...''<br> <br> <br> '''''"...good morning hansome... what will you have of me on this morning?"''''' ''turning on the stool she slips her hands between her legs as if sitting on her hands in anticipation of your joining her today. Looking about she nudges off the fat bartender, who seemed uneased with the words of magery...'' '''''"...we are alone fairy-man, but I cannot say that wisdom is what I can give you on such an early morning with such a beautiful day ahead of us..."''''' <br> ''The fog of the morning seems to be burning down to a managable level as the moments pass... Soon, within the hour, many of the beasts that parade as men around this isle will be awake and about... Etri speaks again, not softly as before. She doesn't fear the morning nor the night nor the Shadow. If not for all the odd things your elf-eyes have witnessed, this would seem odd... yet still... something... something....''<br> <br> '''''"...such a beautiful day... such a beautiful world..."''''' ''as she pushes back the hood of her cloak stroking across her hariless temple. Baring the hallmark of her people, the Dorn race your people have spoken of.'' <br> '''''"....such a beautiful year... the Year Before the Rain. That was the time Shadiuil was born, the first of your people's High Kings... the greatest of his line... Until your Queen. Until the summer ends, but not thereafter..."'''''		''Curling one leg up under her on the tall stool-perch, the other leg dangles bare and naked to the open air... her cloaks slip off her shoulder as she licks her fingernails while looking at you. <br> She pulls the cloth material up again onto her shoulders with a hint of her own modesty. It is obvious that Etri doesnot understand your songlike words. The elven tongue slips past her... She looks to her bone back, considering if you are worth toiling her bones for the morning. <br> She smiles at you, using her long Dorn-white leg to grasp another stool... It tilts and nearly falls, yet her grace is just enough to manage it with care. It scrapes along the floor with a pitched squeal, lasting only for a moment or two until it slips in-between you and she. She looks down at the stool, twists her toe on the seat and closes her eyes for a slight moment. By the time you glance down she's already rolling her bones and muttering in what must be a Norther-speak. <br> The sharp words of her spell slowly turns into the songs of the Erethor languages... as Etri says...''<br> <br> <br> '''''"...good morning hansome... what will you have of me on this morning?"''''' ''turning on the stool she slips her hands between her legs as if sitting on her hands in anticipation of your joining her today. Looking about she nudges off the fat bartender, who seemed uneased with the words of magery...'' '''''"...we are alone fairy-man, but I cannot say that wisdom is what I can give you on such an early morning with such a beautiful day ahead of us..."''''' <br> ''The fog of the morning seems to be burning down to a managable level as the moments pass... Soon, within the hour, many of the beasts that parade as men around this isle will be awake and about... Etri speaks again, not softly as before. She doesn't fear the morning nor the night nor the Shadow. If not for all the odd things your elf-eyes have witnessed, this would seem odd... yet still... something... something....''<br> <br> '''''"...such a beautiful day... such a beautiful world..."''''' ''as she pushes back the hood of her cloak stroking across her hariless temple. Baring the hallmark of her people, the Dorn race your people have spoken of.'' <br> '''''"....such a beautiful year... it reminds me of the Year Before the Rain. That was the time Shadiuil was born, the first of your people's High Kings... the greatest of his line... Until your Queen. Until the summer ends, but not thereafter..."'''''