Myltharial tries to recall anything useful he might know about trolls...
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While Myltharial knew the sewers, his thoughts were occupied elsewhere with all that had happened. In turn, his pace was slowed.
"I'm sorry for your loss," Myltharial would respond before turning and starting forward once more. "I'm sure the professor would like to meet all of you. Not only are most of you a curiosity, but all of you seem to likely have goals that align with our own at this point in time."
Myltharial would eye Olivius with suspicion. "I have never heard of this Hand of Gaia. The name suggests a servant of the earth. What is the Hand of Gaia's ultimate goal? "And the Renaissance Era is a term used to acknowledge a specific span of time that passed long ago." As Myltharial turns to once more regard Bolus, his expression would soften. "I had hoped for such upon seeing you again, but too many of our old friends have allowed their greed to cloud their judgement that I find it better to question anyone I have not seen in some time. Although, I see you are as trusting as ever. It would seem that you travel with companions that you know little about."
Myltharial would come to a sudden stop as he turns about on the ball of his right foot to face Bolus and the others. Eyes narrowing he would repeat his question as he works on connecting the dots in his head. "I repeat. Whom do you each serve? The law has been rather corrupt as of late and unfortunately being on their bad side does necessarily make you one of the good guys Bolus...you are a friend, but I need an answer none the less if you do not want me to leave you down here in this maze of a place." Nodding towards Yala, he states, "I know of her and her people. A large portion of the world still claims to be descendants of her tribe and she became a heroine when they realized she was gone. Some of the statues managed to rather catch her image." Then, turning his attention towards Olivius, he continues on, "While it would appear he has been updating his garb, this one appears to still retain certain articles of clothing familiar to this region, but not from this era. He appears to come from the renaissance era, but I can not be sure that those were not picked up along the way as well." Finally, turning his eye to the large creature that Sinathel had become, he states, "I thank you for your honesty and if you want my help, you all need to prove to me that you are trustworthy to begin with. From there, we will see what the professor thinks of you."
When the volcano known to its people as Numaloyo erupted, it coated over a quarter of the planet with volcanic ash, cooling the entire planet's overall temperature by several degrees for many years before it passed. 90% of the island was completely destroyed by the blast, leaving behind only a small atoll of islands (depicted here). Though Yala escaped cleanly from the villagers to catch up with Olivius to reach the mountain, her absence was noted later. Yala went down in history among her tribe as a heroine who helped the strange outsiders and Kano, their tribal leader, to save the tribe. Even today, there is a nation of peoples in the southern half of the biggest continent on Gaia that claim ancestry from the ancient tribe of Demon's Maw Island. How did you learn of Yala, Kano, and the eruption of Numaloyo?
You get a question about each, though I reserve the right to detail the answers according to what would make sense.
Charming and Open:
When you speak frankly with someone, you can ask their player a question from the list below. They must answer it truthfully, then they may ask you a question from the list (which you must answer truthfully).
While leading the group through the sewers, Myltharial will make inquiries of the group. "While I understand that you seek an audience with the good professor, whom do you serve?"
Myltharial would roll his eyes as the enforcers speak their peace. Murder? Really? They had nothing on them. They had done the city a service by dispatching a dangerous beast and they had left Cragga alive despite Myltharial's better judgement. His thoughs would have continued to swirl around the corruption and ignorance of the city's guards had it not been for Bolus. "I have no issues with them taking credit as long as they leave my name off of the report. I served my time with you and I have no further need for dealing with the scoundrels that guard this city." Myltharial's eyes would narrow at mention of Professor Hardworthy. "I suggest we retreat to tunnels beneath the city. We can use them to get to some where safe and the enforcers are less likely to follow us down there." As he speaks, he offers assistance to Rory.
Could I inquire into what tags/special abilites I should put down for the fire whip and grappling hook?
Noting how the enforcers react to Bolus, Myltharial thinks it a wiser course of action for him to take the moment to gather up a few trinkets that had caught his eye. While he did not mind offering Bolus a hand, he preferred to keep his identity to himself. As he goes about gathering what he can, he takes note that the whip seems to feed off of his hatred for Cragga. Carefully he'll fasten it to his belt along with the grappling hook after he takes the time to coil them up. He would also take time to pick up Bolus' shield before going to relieve Cragga of his gold.
Myltharial would stay his hand, knowing the Guardian was above simply killing those that were already defeated, whether they were a plausible threat to the future or not. Instead he would occupy himself with quickly wiping his blade clean with a handkerchief and putting it back into it's scabbard while speaking. "It has been awhile Bolus. Might I impart some advice upon you once more?" Once he is done putting away his sword, he picks up the Cragga's whip while looking the half-orc over for anything of use.
Myltharial is extremely well versed in the Grand Histories of the World so it is possible he was brought in as a consult for exploring ruins or to be consulted when a creature from the past, perhaps thought extinct at this point in time, emerged to threaten the city. Could have even been some kind of mad scientist trying to garner power through bringing the past back to life. An undead abomination some some kind of great conqueror from the past?
While mulling over his next move, Myltharial would spare a moment to glance at the guardian's allies. They seemed intent on taking what they could of the wyvern's remains, despite the uncomfortable close Enforcers. He wished to dispatch Cragga, but he wanted to make sure that he did not need any further information from the brute before dealing a finishing blow.
A laugh would escape Myltharial's lips as he comes skidding to a halt. He had not expected to see such a comedic scene in the midst of battle and it had thrown him off. Only moments later did he realize he had stopped his incantation midsentence. In a desperate attempt to right his wrong, Myltharial spit out the rest of the magical phrase. Unfortunately, his attempt was in vain and it became apparent to him that he had made a vital mistake when a shiver ran down his spine. Something was watching him, but what escaped him. Magic was a tricky mistress and even the simplest of mistakes could cost one dearly. However, Cragga gave him little time to contemplate the implications of his situation as the half-orc's taunts brought Myltharial's attention back to more pressing matters. While the antagonizing comments turned the tips of Myltharial's ears red, he kept himself in control as he slowly advances upon his prone foe. "You are wasting my time Cragga. Surrender or I will ..." Myltharial's advance and words would come to a halt as he watches the familiar looking guardian say his piece.
Myltharila would curse under his breath at the stupidity of the Enforcers. Clearly such a task as this was beyond their means, but that did not mean that they needed to try and hinder those that were trying to handle it for them. Given little choice, and seeing opportunity ahead, he sprints towards his target while starting once more to chant in a forgotten tongue. However, this time the words came out with greater intensity...
Mytharial would hit the ground mere moments before the mighty wyverm started to flap it's wings. Instead of struggling against the sudden rush of wind, Mytharial would use it to put some distance between him and the dangerous beast by rolling with it before finding his footing some distance away. Taking advantage of his new position, Mytharial would start to sing in a forgotten tongue.
As the emotion packed words escape his lips, the torn and bruised flesh around his neck starts to mend.
Myltharial lets out a painful yell as Cragga's teeth sink into his neck, a place where his armor offers little protection. His life in danager, Myltharial reverses his grip on his rapier and attempts to stab down into Cragga's left leg in hopes of throwing the brute off balance so that he could force them off the wyvern's back.
"I'd say go to hell Cragga, but you would probably like it there," Myltharial would respond in a whimsical voice as he stabs at the hand Cragga is using to hold the reins.
With a precise strike, Myltharial stabs through an opening in Cragga's armor to part the muscles in his left wrist causing the half-orc to lose use of his hand.
Some bushes behind the mighty beast would start to rustle as a lean figure emerges from his hiding place within them. Rushing forward with rapier in hand, the elf would traverse the creature's tail to strike out at the distracted half-orc.
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