"Remember? I said my great grandmother was a Dragonslayer. I've got the oath on the sword memorized, actuslly."
".... Yeah. Are we gonna get there, soon?"
Ayda fidgets a little, and gives up on trying to get him to ask, just following him to the gardens.
"Well... It goes something like..."
~2200 years ago-
"With the sword, we can match the force of even the greatest beast . With the bow, we are allowed to fight on solid ground. with the shield, we are bought solace from thier wrath.
The three allow us to fight beings greater, stronger, and older then us, wherever they may hide."
the elven woman in the red robes takes a quick breath.
"For the sake of the weak, we fight without honor. For the sake of the dead, we fight without glory. And for the sake of our brethren, we fight until the day we die."
the elven woman in the red robes pauses.
"We all took that oath, and we all knew what it meant. We stand here, ready to face what comes next, and come hell or high water, we will leave victorious, or die carving a path for those who come after us."
"yes, they shall harm no others"
she bellows rage written all over her face and draws her bow.
the woman nods to the crowd, and leads them into the den- there's a clash of steel, and a flash of light- and moments later, everything goes dark.
???? Years ago, in ????
The dark flashes to white, then grey- looking around, this is very obviously not the right place. The world around is featureless, empty gray, with the only thing to fixate eyes upon being a small child, wearing a simple black coat with a grey trim, and grey pants- even his skin and hair are grey. The only thing here that breaks the greyscale colors is the red glow of the child's eyes.
"A traveler, are we?"
speaks the child, his voice echoing dispite the lack of walls for sound to bounce off of. A smile creeps across his face, a wide, toothy grin.
Morrigan reflexively curls herself up, ready to react to whatever may come her way, even as she takes in her surroundings, and lack of friends, "Not my choice. Who are you?"
the child starts to pace back and forth, grin ever-present.
"it doesn't really matter who I am. You'll be lucky to remember any of this, let alone such a... Small detail. All you need to know, is that I've found you. Finally. I think you're the third person we need. So, here. You'll need this."
the child tosses a across at morrigan.
"It always matters. Small details always do." she says as she mentally reinforces this moment's memory and everything she can perceive of this being. When he tosses something at her, she tries to avoid it, getting a very strong impression that she doesn't want what he is offering, after all, only bad guys or beings who think of you as inferior tell you that who they are doesn't matter.
"If you don't want it, you don't have to take it. But it won't change what's going to happen. Consider it... An apology. For what's about to happen."
"Mind telling me what game you are recruiting me as a pawn for? Or at least the best chance to survive the endgame?" She says as she cautiously examines then grabs whatever it was he tossed her way.
"Not a game, but.. Let's roll with that metaphor. I'm not a "player" or even really known to the "players". I'm just a guy who wants the right side to win. So I'll tell you what. Ask a question, and I'll answer it the best I can. But the more vauge or Broad your question is, the more vauge or broad the answer you'll get is."
She looks a bit dubious but she rolls with it, "Okay, off the top of my head are fiveish questions. Who, or what, do you consider 'the right side?' How might I recognize other pawns and what side they are on? Why do you care about the outcome if you aren't a player? What is the goal of the side you support? What are the primary goals of their opposition?" She is still reinforcing this memory in her mind, an easy task from all the practice she gets of absorbing information from a dozen scouts at once all day long.
"I said "a" question. So I'll simply answer the first. There's a being, massive in scope, that many, many sides want dead. Me included. But, they've all got thier own was of doing it- witch would be well and good, if they weren't always fighting over who's right and how to do it, ultimately getting nowhere as time ticks away. So. In the meantime, someone... Stole some documents on who... Key people in this whole thing are. And this someone intends to move them in the right direction, in thier own, odd way. So- I'd say, the right side is the side of the "pawns", and not of the players. Even if my support may not seem... Evident."
She shrugs at clarification of one question. "Well that is still more then I expected, though now I wonder what being it is that everyone wants dead."
"Well. I can make you an offer. Or, if you can't tolerate my presence any longer, we can just get on with this."
She hardly trusts this stranger, but sees no reason not to at least hear what he has to say. "And what is your offer?"
"You've been very polite to a being that that ripped you from your intended destination, and vaguely threatened you. So. I'll offer a little extra interference. You see.. I was goin to take your left eye. But... Now I'll give you an option. You can either keep it... Or be able to contact me when you wish. For potential advice. Sure, you probably don't need it, but I'd think I would make things a little easier, in one way. And harder, due to the lack of an eye. Like everything I do- it's give and take."
She chuckles, and quotes in a gravely voice, "'Nothing comes for free,' as an old teacher told me once. As I'd like to survive this task you have set to me, if the ability to contact you is usable as many times as I may need your advice or possibly report my progress to you directly if you desire, without being a constant bother of course, I'll take the ability to contact you. It is after all far better for both of us to work together to accomplish the goal. If it is just a one time contact however, I think I'll chose to keep my eye. And I thank you for being as polite as you have been." she gives a small but respectful bow, knowing he certainly didn't need to chat with her at all, and whatever his costs may be, giving her any choice at all was a gift she hardly expected to be given considering that some powerful being just ripped her from the cosmos and decided to send her on a mission. One doesn't generally expect much from such beings that use lesser beings as pawns.
"It would be a spell, that you can cast when you need to speak to me. It would take time, though- probobly not a good idea to use it in the middle of an emergency. Besides that... Again, this isn't a task in setting for you. It's a task that will exist, and will be unavoidable if you stay on this plane. It's not required, however. you can just leave the plane once more once we finish here. Try and pretend this never happened. I can't really stop you from just ignoring what needs to be done. And I won't try. If your heart isn't in it, you won't get far. But should you stay, and grow attached to this plane, what will need to be done will be natural."
She smiles, "Maybe you have yet to hear, but the children of Sorenson are all about doing what needs done. I will accept the spell."
the figure pauses.
"One last thing. It also means you'll have made a deal with my kind. People... Rarely look favorably on that sort of thing. You stop being a victim, in their eyes, and instead appear a fool."
the creature's tail unravels- it's grey, like everything else here, but it's devilish shape is still rather distinct, and small horns Cna now be seen in it's hair.
"... And I figure you deserve to know at least a little more of what I am before you say that."
the creature taps it's horns.
"If these..."
and flicks it's tail.
"And this... Don't unnerve you, then by all means, take my deal- but if you won't deal with me on principle, I won't blame you."
"I exist only because Sorenson dealt with those that others consider evil. You being what you are just means we are more likely to have different moral opinions. I am less concerned by what you are than what I am up against. Besides, I have no particular reason to tell anybody what you are, though at this point, I think proper introductions are in order. I am Morrigan from Shadow Clan, third clan of Sorenson's children."
"Alright. I'll give you a name. Not mine, but one that's good enough. You can call me chalk. Most people who know me do. And as to what I am- I'm a... Demigod, of sorts. thus all the formalities. Devine politics are a pain."
She chuckles, "All politics are a pain, divine or otherwise. And good to meet you Chalk." She dives back to business, not knowing what else to talk about at the moment, certainly not the non-existant weather, "You mentioned that I am the third. Are the other two knowledgable of you?"
"no. They aren't. I doubt either of them would take well to me."
"I'll keep that in mind and avoid mentioning details about you. What timescale are we talking, months, years, or centuries? I'll live as long as I avoid injury so I'm not worried about that aspect, but it can be important in developing a strategy."
the creature grimaces slightly.
"Can't say how log you've got. Because I don't know."
She shrugs, "In that case, what's next?"
"Well... Now comes the unpleasant part. Good news, you'll get where you were trying to go. Bad news, this will all collapse down to under a second- might make it hard to remember. And... More bad news, due to what I am, I'm abou to ruin your day. Try not to take it personally. It's in my nature, and I can't really avoid it."
"Well, I've been expecting it so, we'll see how it goes." She continues to mentally reinforce this memory and brace herself mentally. As a highly disciplined individual, from an excellent birth item and Sorenson's personal touch in her creation, it isn't that difficult for her.
the creature's eyes flash a brighter red, and things start to go very wrong- the world, and morrigan with it, begin to melt, left eye melting out of it's socket into a black stream, and soon enough it's hard to hold together at all- and soon after, demonic taint seeps in, twisting and mutating morrigan' left arm into a shelled, boney mass with spines and sharp claws.
She focuses on her mind, ignoring any physical feeling (it was hardly unexpected after all), focused entirely on maintaining her state of mind and the memory of the encounter with Chalk.
rather abruptly, morrigan is in a marketplace- even with the mental training, exact details are a little rough to make out, but what happened is still there, scroll still on her person, and a new tattoo of a new spell- oddly shaped, and likely somewhere hidden.
a strange man in black robes is signing at you in some strange language- his eyes are totally black, and he's wearing a single white glove. He's suprizingly tall for a human- about six and a half feet, or so. He's quite lanky, and has a sl lightly unnatural look to him.
She smiles, another test completed. She coils herself and raises up to match the man's height. "Can you understand me? If so, a nod will do." she asks in common, though suspecting the man can't speak cause he likely would have tried that first if he could, she hopes he can still hear just fine.
the man nods.
Of course I can. But as usual, you can't understand me. Pity.
his eyes are caught by the scroll.
She puts the scroll in a pocket, "I suspect it has something to do with why I'm here. Do you have a library around here suitable for researching scrolls? Could you please show me the way?" she asks politely.
the man nods again.
It's not even far.
he then points to a tower, the tallest thing in the town.
"Ah. The tower. Thank you." she says appreciatively, though slow enough that he could correct her if she was mistaken.
he nods.
She slithers off, slowly heading for the library, but on the way, looking at the people and the place, listening, etc. Basically getting a feel for the locals and the place.
no-ne batted an eye at Morrigan until she left the market, but afterwards, she does get a few odd stares at her half-molten form. A few people mumble somehting about proteans, and complain that "we don't need another like him", but it's mostly hushed mumbles, a degree of fear.
Morrigan smiles in her best friendly manner at those glancing her way. When she arrives at the library she will find an out of the way private corner to see what all Chalk did to her. She has a mirror to see her face as well, but she'll check that last.
morrigan's body is a molten mess, barley holding together at all. The red boney substance has consumed her left arm entierly, that's rather stiff. Further, it s-
>>Is that a new brain, I smell?<<
and apparently, there's a voice in her head, and it very much inst her own.
At her self evaluation she feels a little consternation, hoping her recovery abilities with eventually fix it, or at the very least maybe she can fixed at the end of this mission. Then the voice takes her full attention and she looks around. Given what was said, and a certain familiarity with telepathy magic, though usually only used between the closest of friends, "Sense perhaps, but I very much doubt you can smell it. Isn't it rude to go talking in other people's heads?"