"I- well, I've never really been asked that before." Oru began to stroke his fingers gently through Bumble's soft, slightly grizzly and matted, short pelt. "I mean, it's definitely not traditional for a human to learn elven. City elven, sure. That's really just for, well, sounding as spiffy as city elves look. But definitely not elven at its origin." He sat and considered for a few moments. "You could if you really wanted to. It would take a long time to learn, but animals don't really... Think that much? So the basics are all you really need if you're using it for practical reasons. The problem is sounds that animals can comprehend are, well, non-human is the best way to put it.
"See, take my name. Orurialy. It means Cardinal's Wing. It's probably the easiest elven name I know for humans to pronounce. My mother's name is Malaninoaelin. Most other races just call her Malan for that reason. The entire language is built for vocal cords different from those used for the common language, so it would be five times harder for you to learn it than say, another elf."
Oru leaned against Bumblebee's shoulder, who soon sniffed his face and huffed in approval. This is the only time Oru had seemed truly at peace, when surrounded by the scent, sound, and sight of an animal. No wonder they were called forest elves, he seemed to connect with even this worker mule on a level further than language. He sighed in satisfaction until a certain feline came over and began tightening and filling up Bumble's saddlebags.
"Right then, Bumblebee! We best be gettin' to the city to get you some proper food!" He pulled another apple from his bag and allowed his mule to eat from his palm. "And we'll find it, treasure, wealth, and glory beyond your imagination! Hop on, you two, we've got an opportunity to capture. Can either of you sing?"
"I- well, I've never really been asked that before." Oru began to stroke his fingers gently through Bumble's soft, slightly grizzly and matted, short pelt. "I mean, it's definitely not traditional for a human to learn elven. City elven, sure. That's really just for, well, sounding as spiffy as city elves look. But definitely not elven at its origin." He sat and considered for a few moments. "You could if you really wanted to. It would take a long time to learn, but animals don't really... Think that much? So the basics are all you really need if you're using it for practical reasons. The problem is sounds that animals can comprehend are, well, non-human is the best way to put it.
"See, take my name. Orurialy. It means Cardinal's Wing. It's probably the easiest elven name I know for humans to pronounce. My mother's name is Malaninoaelin. Most other races just call her Malan for that reason. The entire language is built for vocal cords different from those used for the common language, so it would be five times harder for you to learn it than say, another elf."
Oru leaned against Bumblebee's shoulder, who soon sniffed his face and huffed in approval. This is the only time Oru had seemed truly at peace, when surrounded by the scent, sound, and sight of an animal. No wonder they were called forest elves, he seemed to connect with even this worker mule on a level further than language. He sighed in satisfaction until a certain feline came over and began tightening and filling up Bumble's saddlebags.
"Right then, Bumblebee! We best be gettin' to the city to get you some proper food!" He pulled another apple from his bag and allowed his mule to eat from his palm. "And we'll find it, treasure, wealth, and glory beyond your imagination! Hop on, you two, we've got an opportunity to capture. Can either of you sing?"
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xSkets | She/Her | Bi | Capricorn | Meme | FR + 2
xAuthor | D&D Enthusiast | Worldbuilder | Too Many OCs
xPWYW Dergs
xMeowdy-do
Nochnyr
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Sparrow nodded thoughtfully at Oru’s explanation. Maybe she’d just stick to common for the moment.
She found it funny his name was considered easy pronunciation for races other than elf—though she liked that elves apparently considered naming someone after a bird to be fitting as a normal title. She and her sister had been given their names because of the commonness and lowly nature of their namesakes; in Meirlheim, or at least in some parts of the city, naming your servants, slaves, or even children after an animal—unless it was, say, a lion or a dragon—was an insult. In the case of servants and slaves, it was more specifically a reminder of their place in society.
Sparrow turned her attention to Clover as he spoke, wondering where exactly he was planning on getting all that treasure, wealth, and glory. He’d been promising it this whole time like he had something set up in Meirlheim, all ready to collect as soon as they got there. Did he really have a plan? Or was he just shooting for the stars and hoping he hit one? If his rock-throwing a moment ago was any indication of his aim, then it might take him a while.
Sparrow was about to hoist herself onto Bumblebee’s back when Clover mentioned singing; she stopped mid-climb, glancing from him to Oru uncertainly.
“I can...sing...I suppose,” she replied slowly, narrowing her eyes at the tabaxi.
He’d better not expect her to be performing—she could hold a tune, but it was nothing spectacular and she’d grown rather disinclined to singing, as the few times she’d been caught doing it there had been jokes made in connection with her name and the activity. Since her name was a harassment in and of itself, adding insult to injury didn’t encourage her to pursue any musical interests.
“If you’re hoping for another vocalist in whatever performances you have planned for the city,” Sparrow continued, focusing on mounting Bumblebee. “Then you’d better look elsewhere. I certainly won’t do it willingly, in any case, and I most definitely won’t help your publicity.”
Sparrow nodded thoughtfully at Oru’s explanation. Maybe she’d just stick to common for the moment.
She found it funny his name was considered easy pronunciation for races other than elf—though she liked that elves apparently considered naming someone after a bird to be fitting as a normal title. She and her sister had been given their names because of the commonness and lowly nature of their namesakes; in Meirlheim, or at least in some parts of the city, naming your servants, slaves, or even children after an animal—unless it was, say, a lion or a dragon—was an insult. In the case of servants and slaves, it was more specifically a reminder of their place in society.
Sparrow turned her attention to Clover as he spoke, wondering where exactly he was planning on getting all that treasure, wealth, and glory. He’d been promising it this whole time like he had something set up in Meirlheim, all ready to collect as soon as they got there. Did he really have a plan? Or was he just shooting for the stars and hoping he hit one? If his rock-throwing a moment ago was any indication of his aim, then it might take him a while.
Sparrow was about to hoist herself onto Bumblebee’s back when Clover mentioned singing; she stopped mid-climb, glancing from him to Oru uncertainly.
“I can...sing...I suppose,” she replied slowly, narrowing her eyes at the tabaxi.
He’d better not expect her to be performing—she could hold a tune, but it was nothing spectacular and she’d grown rather disinclined to singing, as the few times she’d been caught doing it there had been jokes made in connection with her name and the activity. Since her name was a harassment in and of itself, adding insult to injury didn’t encourage her to pursue any musical interests.
“If you’re hoping for another vocalist in whatever performances you have planned for the city,” Sparrow continued, focusing on mounting Bumblebee. “Then you’d better look elsewhere. I certainly won’t do it willingly, in any case, and I most definitely won’t help your publicity.”
"Not for you. Not a chance." Oru immediately snapped back at the tabaxi, crushing his efforts from both. Not to mention Oru didn't even think twice, his gut reaction was to deny whatever Clover had to ask. He got to his feet and rather easily and on nimble toes hopped up behind where Sparrow would sit. He was hardly on the saddle at all, but somehow still seemed to balance impeccably on the hide of the mule.
"Opp-or-tun-i-ty!" Clover sounded out slowly, his arms spread wide and smile huge in the hopes to coax them the other way. "It's not my publicity, it's ours! Just imagine. I know exactly which taverns will let us camp in their inn for free if we put on a good show. After a few tips from those joints, it'll be easy to set up shop in town square of Meirlheim's center. If we're good, in short time, all three of us will be able to share riches to do with as we plea-"
"I don't need your money." Oru groaned.
"The people's mone-"
"I don't give a goblin's hairy arm where the money comes from. I've got no use for it, you're not going to make either of us do your dirty work."
"Careful with your words dearest darling elf. It's a conjoined effort. Not to mention that city will enjoy anything. Embrace disaster! Celebrate failure! So long as there's jest-giving, chuckle-inducing, and a tad of awe-striking, we'll all be perfectly fine! Besides." Clover almost seemed a little menacing as his grin got right into Oru's face, his sharp teeth showing off more. "What happened to not being able to return to your home because of failing the ceremony? You'll need something to support yourself, or that city will eat you alive."
"Wh- it's your fault anyway, you've sure helped enough- wait, I only told Sparrow about the druid ceremony."
"Not for you. Not a chance." Oru immediately snapped back at the tabaxi, crushing his efforts from both. Not to mention Oru didn't even think twice, his gut reaction was to deny whatever Clover had to ask. He got to his feet and rather easily and on nimble toes hopped up behind where Sparrow would sit. He was hardly on the saddle at all, but somehow still seemed to balance impeccably on the hide of the mule.
"Opp-or-tun-i-ty!" Clover sounded out slowly, his arms spread wide and smile huge in the hopes to coax them the other way. "It's not my publicity, it's ours! Just imagine. I know exactly which taverns will let us camp in their inn for free if we put on a good show. After a few tips from those joints, it'll be easy to set up shop in town square of Meirlheim's center. If we're good, in short time, all three of us will be able to share riches to do with as we plea-"
"I don't need your money." Oru groaned.
"The people's mone-"
"I don't give a goblin's hairy arm where the money comes from. I've got no use for it, you're not going to make either of us do your dirty work."
"Careful with your words dearest darling elf. It's a conjoined effort. Not to mention that city will enjoy anything. Embrace disaster! Celebrate failure! So long as there's jest-giving, chuckle-inducing, and a tad of awe-striking, we'll all be perfectly fine! Besides." Clover almost seemed a little menacing as his grin got right into Oru's face, his sharp teeth showing off more. "What happened to not being able to return to your home because of failing the ceremony? You'll need something to support yourself, or that city will eat you alive."
"Wh- it's your fault anyway, you've sure helped enough- wait, I only told Sparrow about the druid ceremony."
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xSkets | She/Her | Bi | Capricorn | Meme | FR + 2
xAuthor | D&D Enthusiast | Worldbuilder | Too Many OCs
xPWYW Dergs
xMeowdy-do
Nochnyr
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|
Well, unlike Oru, Sparrow definitely needed the money. She didn’t like the idea of getting it how Clover suggested, though. She’d had in mind more of...adventure. Adventure adventure, not making a fool of herself in front of a crowd.
As far as getting a place in an inn went, she was sure anyone would accept an extra pair of hands for washing dishes or cleaning up tables, and she’d much rather earn her keep working than singing. Besides, she didn’t plan on staying long in the city anyway. She couldn’t, not without inevitably being caught and shipped right back to Graeyorn’s house.
Buuuut she did have to earn some money somehow, at least enough to buy some proper supplies so that she could actually go off adventuring. Working for an innkeeper would get her room and board, but she wasn’t sure she’d be able to convince anyone to pay her, too. Putting on a show with Clover couldn’t be the alternatively, however, she wouldn’t let it be the only alternative.
Sparrow turned slightly at the sound of her name, and realizing what had been said she glanced back at Oru, shaking her head. “I didn’t tell him.”
She squinted over at Clover, asking, “Were you listening outside the caravan?”
Goodness, that wagon’s walls must have been thinner than she thought. Either that or Clover had been walking right next to it with one pointed, furry ear against the wood.
She wouldn't really have been surprised if the tabaxi had eavesdropped; he seemed to greatly treasure stories of any kind, and it was doubtful he'd count listening in on someone else's conversation a sin if it gave him a good tale to pass on.
Well, unlike Oru, Sparrow definitely needed the money. She didn’t like the idea of getting it how Clover suggested, though. She’d had in mind more of...adventure. Adventure adventure, not making a fool of herself in front of a crowd.
As far as getting a place in an inn went, she was sure anyone would accept an extra pair of hands for washing dishes or cleaning up tables, and she’d much rather earn her keep working than singing. Besides, she didn’t plan on staying long in the city anyway. She couldn’t, not without inevitably being caught and shipped right back to Graeyorn’s house.
Buuuut she did have to earn some money somehow, at least enough to buy some proper supplies so that she could actually go off adventuring. Working for an innkeeper would get her room and board, but she wasn’t sure she’d be able to convince anyone to pay her, too. Putting on a show with Clover couldn’t be the alternatively, however, she wouldn’t let it be the only alternative.
Sparrow turned slightly at the sound of her name, and realizing what had been said she glanced back at Oru, shaking her head. “I didn’t tell him.”
She squinted over at Clover, asking, “Were you listening outside the caravan?”
Goodness, that wagon’s walls must have been thinner than she thought. Either that or Clover had been walking right next to it with one pointed, furry ear against the wood.
She wouldn't really have been surprised if the tabaxi had eavesdropped; he seemed to greatly treasure stories of any kind, and it was doubtful he'd count listening in on someone else's conversation a sin if it gave him a good tale to pass on.
"Me? Listening in on a private conversation?" He put a hand to his chest with a gasp, waited a moment, then cocked his head. "I mean, I did, but I just don't like it coming out of anyone else's mouth." He chuckled with an easy heart.
Somehow, his mood had immediately lightened a moment after passively threatening Oru into, once more, a peppy happy-go-lucky cat. What a strange card he was. Though, that's what would get him his dream. Those quick mood changes and entertaining way of speech, he would hardly have to try to look like a perfect jester-like minstrel.
When Clover was a little further away from Bumblebee and his two passengers, Oru leaned over and was extremely careful about his volume this time. "He's not wrong." He muttered. "I would have to do something in the city, else I'm out in both places. But I've never been too fond of the traveling bands that come by our edge of the forest, and it's way too much of a gamble. I bet he'll be on the street in less than a week."
He waited even longer for Clover to turn a bend before they did. After Oru was positive he was out of earreach, he whispered again with a deep sigh. "Do you want to figure out how to make off on our own when we get there? I wouldn't trust that tabaxi with a gecko, let alone our fate."
"Me? Listening in on a private conversation?" He put a hand to his chest with a gasp, waited a moment, then cocked his head. "I mean, I did, but I just don't like it coming out of anyone else's mouth." He chuckled with an easy heart.
Somehow, his mood had immediately lightened a moment after passively threatening Oru into, once more, a peppy happy-go-lucky cat. What a strange card he was. Though, that's what would get him his dream. Those quick mood changes and entertaining way of speech, he would hardly have to try to look like a perfect jester-like minstrel.
When Clover was a little further away from Bumblebee and his two passengers, Oru leaned over and was extremely careful about his volume this time. "He's not wrong." He muttered. "I would have to do something in the city, else I'm out in both places. But I've never been too fond of the traveling bands that come by our edge of the forest, and it's way too much of a gamble. I bet he'll be on the street in less than a week."
He waited even longer for Clover to turn a bend before they did. After Oru was positive he was out of earreach, he whispered again with a deep sigh. "Do you want to figure out how to make off on our own when we get there? I wouldn't trust that tabaxi with a gecko, let alone our fate."
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xSkets | She/Her | Bi | Capricorn | Meme | FR + 2
xAuthor | D&D Enthusiast | Worldbuilder | Too Many OCs
xPWYW Dergs
xMeowdy-do
Nochnyr
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|
Sparrow simply grinned, shaking her head at Clover. I knew it.
A few moments passed before the tabaxi had walked a little ways ahead; Sparrow felt Oru shift behind her, and the next moment he was whispering in her ear, pointing out the fact that Clover had a point about needing money.
She knew it, and she hadn’t been able to think of much else besides begging a job off someone, be it at an inn or one of the various shops lining the broad city streets—and of course, Clover’s proposed minstrel show. Though, she had to disagree with the elf on the tabaxi’s fate. She had a strange feeling he would get just about anywhere he wanted in life with that strange, charismatic attitude of his. Not to mention he had a very handle magic lute to help his efforts.
Oru’s offer to join forces was appealing. With her common knowledge of the city’s lower-class working and his natural elven prowess, she had no doubt they stood a chance at faring on their own. She did feel a little guilty, just a little, at the idea of abandoning Clover. Despite his odd ways and eavesdropping, he really had been extremely helpful and generous.
Sparrow was silent for a moment, brow furrowing in thought. It was a hard decision with rather a lot of factors to consider.
Clover’s very personality promised success at most of his endeavors if not all—from her point of view, at least—and he appeared to have been traveling for a while. He would know his way around and, as he’d mentioned earlier, he knew places and people in the city that he could get some help from. At the same time, however, none of that would do her much good if she wasn’t willing to go along with the tabaxi’s plans for fame and fortune.
On the other hand, Oru, though apparently a failure as a proper elf and unaccustomed to a city life, appeared to have a healthy amount of common sense. Apart from driving himself to starvation endeavoring to rid the forest of evil, that was. Coupled with the fact that he was willing to discuss different options for survival, Sparrow found herself leaning in that direction.
Finally she nodded, whispering back, “I’m with you. I know a little about the city, I’m sure I could help us find somewhere that would hire us, at least for a little bit. Besides, it’s not like the city’s our only option.”
She glanced around at the woods, adding, “There’s a whole world out there, you know. We could find something to suit us.”
Sparrow simply grinned, shaking her head at Clover. I knew it.
A few moments passed before the tabaxi had walked a little ways ahead; Sparrow felt Oru shift behind her, and the next moment he was whispering in her ear, pointing out the fact that Clover had a point about needing money.
She knew it, and she hadn’t been able to think of much else besides begging a job off someone, be it at an inn or one of the various shops lining the broad city streets—and of course, Clover’s proposed minstrel show. Though, she had to disagree with the elf on the tabaxi’s fate. She had a strange feeling he would get just about anywhere he wanted in life with that strange, charismatic attitude of his. Not to mention he had a very handle magic lute to help his efforts.
Oru’s offer to join forces was appealing. With her common knowledge of the city’s lower-class working and his natural elven prowess, she had no doubt they stood a chance at faring on their own. She did feel a little guilty, just a little, at the idea of abandoning Clover. Despite his odd ways and eavesdropping, he really had been extremely helpful and generous.
Sparrow was silent for a moment, brow furrowing in thought. It was a hard decision with rather a lot of factors to consider.
Clover’s very personality promised success at most of his endeavors if not all—from her point of view, at least—and he appeared to have been traveling for a while. He would know his way around and, as he’d mentioned earlier, he knew places and people in the city that he could get some help from. At the same time, however, none of that would do her much good if she wasn’t willing to go along with the tabaxi’s plans for fame and fortune.
On the other hand, Oru, though apparently a failure as a proper elf and unaccustomed to a city life, appeared to have a healthy amount of common sense. Apart from driving himself to starvation endeavoring to rid the forest of evil, that was. Coupled with the fact that he was willing to discuss different options for survival, Sparrow found herself leaning in that direction.
Finally she nodded, whispering back, “I’m with you. I know a little about the city, I’m sure I could help us find somewhere that would hire us, at least for a little bit. Besides, it’s not like the city’s our only option.”
She glanced around at the woods, adding, “There’s a whole world out there, you know. We could find something to suit us.”
"Absolutely. I'd say we hardly have to stay in the city at all. Deal with your business in the city, earn a penny enough to survive and we could be off faster than Clover would take to find some kind of success." Oru was hesitant to speak again, and groaned before the words came out. "Thank you. Y'know, for not ignoring my presence completely or something of that sort. It's not often that I can find some worthwhile anymore." Wow. Everything he said came out so slow that it was no doubt Oru had a difficulty admitting he appreciated help from anybody.
The elf had always wanted to go exploring the world. That's what he was made for as a forest elf, after all. But watching over his home so intently must have stopped him from perusing that ideal life, until he forgot about the open land completely.
"Detour!" Oru looked up as he heard Clover's voice overpower whatever thoughts were going through his mind. The tabaxi has sharply rounded a corner away from Meirlheim, and toward a nearby small mountain range that bordered the city. The mountain was known as the jagged reigns by the residents of the city, and for good reason - it was quite terrifying to stare at the serrated teeth of the peaks for two long, and it was an enormous range.
Going around all of Meirlheim was the smallest thing it had to boast, as it continued on for several miles and acted as a border to several towns and villages outside of the city. "Haha, let's ignore the smell of nagas, shall we? Venom, poison, it's everywhere. Bumble, let's go, other direction." His voice was hurried, nervous, and unsure unlike most of the time he spoke. "They're close, there's no way we can cross their path after already having suffered a gnoll attack."
"Nagas? This close to civilization? I know we're a couple miles out, but there can't be anything they want from the city!"
"They run the black market, Oru!" Clover retorted hastily while trying to get his lollygagging mule to turn the other way. "They're the biggest crime lords of this side of the forest! My question is what they're doing so far away from Meirlheim."
"Absolutely. I'd say we hardly have to stay in the city at all. Deal with your business in the city, earn a penny enough to survive and we could be off faster than Clover would take to find some kind of success." Oru was hesitant to speak again, and groaned before the words came out. "Thank you. Y'know, for not ignoring my presence completely or something of that sort. It's not often that I can find some worthwhile anymore." Wow. Everything he said came out so slow that it was no doubt Oru had a difficulty admitting he appreciated help from anybody.
The elf had always wanted to go exploring the world. That's what he was made for as a forest elf, after all. But watching over his home so intently must have stopped him from perusing that ideal life, until he forgot about the open land completely.
"Detour!" Oru looked up as he heard Clover's voice overpower whatever thoughts were going through his mind. The tabaxi has sharply rounded a corner away from Meirlheim, and toward a nearby small mountain range that bordered the city. The mountain was known as the jagged reigns by the residents of the city, and for good reason - it was quite terrifying to stare at the serrated teeth of the peaks for two long, and it was an enormous range.
Going around all of Meirlheim was the smallest thing it had to boast, as it continued on for several miles and acted as a border to several towns and villages outside of the city. "Haha, let's ignore the smell of nagas, shall we? Venom, poison, it's everywhere. Bumble, let's go, other direction." His voice was hurried, nervous, and unsure unlike most of the time he spoke. "They're close, there's no way we can cross their path after already having suffered a gnoll attack."
"Nagas? This close to civilization? I know we're a couple miles out, but there can't be anything they want from the city!"
"They run the black market, Oru!" Clover retorted hastily while trying to get his lollygagging mule to turn the other way. "They're the biggest crime lords of this side of the forest! My question is what they're doing so far away from Meirlheim."
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xSkets | She/Her | Bi | Capricorn | Meme | FR + 2
xAuthor | D&D Enthusiast | Worldbuilder | Too Many OCs
xPWYW Dergs
xMeowdy-do
Nochnyr
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|
“Well, thank you for inviting me along,” Sparrow returned. She definitely knew how it felt to have one’s presence ignored completely, whether Oru was serious or just giving examples. “It’s nice to be thought of as worthwhile.”
She smiled lightly, but the call from Clover up ahead immediately wiped the expression away.
For a split second she panicked, assuming the worst—had the tabaxi overheard their conversation and, for some unknown reason, decided to try and keep them around longer by changing course? It didn’t make much sense, but the very act of having a whispered conversation interrupted by a shout could cause anyone to jump to the worst conclusion.
But Clover’s tone indicated something other than slyness; for a second she relaxed, but upon hearing the word ‘nagas’ she panicked slightly again. Sitting up straight and shoulders stiffening, she peered ahead, noting the change of direction and the small mountain range in the distance. Despite their fearsome looks, she’d attempted to head towards the mountains when she first escaped the city; but looking at it now she realized she’d been going the wrong direction.
Nagas, unlike gnolls, she had heard of before. They raided travelers from time to time, and whenever Sparrow had been sent off to the market there was always at least one merchant complaining about them. She’d seen many charms and knick-knacks supposed to ward off the half-serpent creatures—Graeyorn even had a pendant for such purposes hanging in his study, though why he needed it she didn’t know.
She hadn’t heard that they ran the black market, however.
Sparrow patted Bumblebee’s neck lightly, mentioning to him their need for haste to try and help Clover get the mule to turn. The last thing she wanted to do was run into more trouble. She was still worn out from tramping through the woods and scrapping with gnolls, and it didn’t help the situation now that they had no spare instruments or boards to defend themselves with.
“What do we do if we run into them?” she asked, not sure who to direct the question to and leaving it open. Her only hope was that, since the nagas were apparently crime lords, they might, possibly, considering talking a bit before straightaway attacking.
“Well, thank you for inviting me along,” Sparrow returned. She definitely knew how it felt to have one’s presence ignored completely, whether Oru was serious or just giving examples. “It’s nice to be thought of as worthwhile.”
She smiled lightly, but the call from Clover up ahead immediately wiped the expression away.
For a split second she panicked, assuming the worst—had the tabaxi overheard their conversation and, for some unknown reason, decided to try and keep them around longer by changing course? It didn’t make much sense, but the very act of having a whispered conversation interrupted by a shout could cause anyone to jump to the worst conclusion.
But Clover’s tone indicated something other than slyness; for a second she relaxed, but upon hearing the word ‘nagas’ she panicked slightly again. Sitting up straight and shoulders stiffening, she peered ahead, noting the change of direction and the small mountain range in the distance. Despite their fearsome looks, she’d attempted to head towards the mountains when she first escaped the city; but looking at it now she realized she’d been going the wrong direction.
Nagas, unlike gnolls, she had heard of before. They raided travelers from time to time, and whenever Sparrow had been sent off to the market there was always at least one merchant complaining about them. She’d seen many charms and knick-knacks supposed to ward off the half-serpent creatures—Graeyorn even had a pendant for such purposes hanging in his study, though why he needed it she didn’t know.
She hadn’t heard that they ran the black market, however.
Sparrow patted Bumblebee’s neck lightly, mentioning to him their need for haste to try and help Clover get the mule to turn. The last thing she wanted to do was run into more trouble. She was still worn out from tramping through the woods and scrapping with gnolls, and it didn’t help the situation now that they had no spare instruments or boards to defend themselves with.
“What do we do if we run into them?” she asked, not sure who to direct the question to and leaving it open. Her only hope was that, since the nagas were apparently crime lords, they might, possibly, considering talking a bit before straightaway attacking.
"Why don't we just not run into them, 'lright? 'Cause if we do, there's no game plan! I've got one dagger now, the lute, and that's it. Unless you two plan to kill a naga with your good looks, then we're out of chances." Clover looked as though he was refraining himself from breaking into a run for the sake of getting Bumblebee to move faster. But just as the mule began picking up speed, a voice eerie and slick like that of a sweet-talking criminal bred with a dragon - well, that almost is what they were - sounded from among a nearby patch of trees.
"I smell cat!" One giggled maniacally, soon cut off by another, older tone. "Hush, you idiot! We're close on the trail."
Clover swore profusely as he leaped over a fallen tree trunk with Bumblebee close in tow. The tabaxi was trying to put as much distance between his group and the nagas', taking great care not to leave them behind and save his hide from being skinned simultaneously. But alas, both cannot be done at once unless you're riding the back of a healthy mustang, and Clover soon turned around from behind the mule to be met with a pair of sickle daggers at his throat.
At their handles was the clawed, scaly hand of a ruthless looking naga standing - or rather, - holding themselves tall above Clover on a mighty and muscly-looking tail. A large scar ran down their right eye and trailed all the way down from jaw to neck as though a scythe had been dragged down the side of their face to leave a nasty wound. They were dressed in a couple layers of cloaks, tatters, and tool belts filled with all sorts of unidentifiable poisons to someone unfamiliar with alchemy. Those who did know chemical basics, perhaps someone in particular who may or may not have been watching a slave-keeper tamper with such compounds for a good portion of their life, could recognize the color and smell of each bottle as incredibly deadly toxins mixed with extracted venoms from the worst possible venomous creatures. Additionally, a few bone necklaces and bands were strung across this naga's body.
"Ha! Esciall!" Clover raised his hands innocently and did his best to subtly move his furred neck away from blade point. "N-nice to see you again! How's the husband and kids?"
"Gods I hate you." A voice just feminine enough to identify the half-snake hissed back at the party's tabaxi companion. Slowly she pulled her daggers away from him, just far enough for Clover to sigh in relief and rub his neck thoroughly as though he had already been slashed through and through. "Have you paid off your debt yet, fur ball?"
"I-!" Silence. "I... haven't. Not yet. But! I'm headed straight to Meirlheim to do just that! Look, I've got my own party-posse and everything!"
"...Right. And where's the caravan that you loaned so much for anyway? Headed to Meirlheim to get that too?"
"No, hahahaaaa! Funny story, actually, um." Once more, Clover practically choked on his words trying to get them out. "Iiiiiiiiiit got caught... in a gnoll... fire?"
Instead of murdering him right away, a deep fire grew in the naga's eyes. Esciall, it seemed her name was, opened her mouth just slightly with a low, terrible hiss and a flick of her slim forked tongue. Her fangs were revealed enough for everyone to see equally how dangerous she was without any of her fancy gadgets. Two nagas appeared from the bramble a little ways behind her as well, cackling and laughing like fresh insane-asylum escapees. "You destroyed it. Do you have any idea how much work it was to find all the fine silks, leathers, and woods that went into that thing? Have you absolutely any clue how many houses we robbed to retrieve all its contents per request?"
"I'm sure it was h-hard, dear Esciall, but I'm still getting the money! I swear upon my granny's grave that you'll have it promptly!"
"Three days, Clover." Esciall retracted herself once again.
"Three day-! Aha, nevermind. It's alright, I'll have your money. I will. Can you just do us one eensy-weensy favor?"
"Are you smuggling something else across the city limits again?"
"...Maybe? Just dragon's treasure, is all. One we get it across, I'm sure the marketplace will buy for it all for top dollar. They would never let us carry it through the gates. When we're in, I'll have my lore on the artifacts, and you'll have your gold. Deal?"
"What about your 'party posse'? I doubt we can sneak them through the tunnels without attracting attention once we get back up. And when we do, even if we go through the underground, you'll need to find your way into the city at some point."
"Why don't we just not run into them, 'lright? 'Cause if we do, there's no game plan! I've got one dagger now, the lute, and that's it. Unless you two plan to kill a naga with your good looks, then we're out of chances." Clover looked as though he was refraining himself from breaking into a run for the sake of getting Bumblebee to move faster. But just as the mule began picking up speed, a voice eerie and slick like that of a sweet-talking criminal bred with a dragon - well, that almost is what they were - sounded from among a nearby patch of trees.
"I smell cat!" One giggled maniacally, soon cut off by another, older tone. "Hush, you idiot! We're close on the trail."
Clover swore profusely as he leaped over a fallen tree trunk with Bumblebee close in tow. The tabaxi was trying to put as much distance between his group and the nagas', taking great care not to leave them behind and save his hide from being skinned simultaneously. But alas, both cannot be done at once unless you're riding the back of a healthy mustang, and Clover soon turned around from behind the mule to be met with a pair of sickle daggers at his throat.
At their handles was the clawed, scaly hand of a ruthless looking naga standing - or rather, - holding themselves tall above Clover on a mighty and muscly-looking tail. A large scar ran down their right eye and trailed all the way down from jaw to neck as though a scythe had been dragged down the side of their face to leave a nasty wound. They were dressed in a couple layers of cloaks, tatters, and tool belts filled with all sorts of unidentifiable poisons to someone unfamiliar with alchemy. Those who did know chemical basics, perhaps someone in particular who may or may not have been watching a slave-keeper tamper with such compounds for a good portion of their life, could recognize the color and smell of each bottle as incredibly deadly toxins mixed with extracted venoms from the worst possible venomous creatures. Additionally, a few bone necklaces and bands were strung across this naga's body.
"Ha! Esciall!" Clover raised his hands innocently and did his best to subtly move his furred neck away from blade point. "N-nice to see you again! How's the husband and kids?"
"Gods I hate you." A voice just feminine enough to identify the half-snake hissed back at the party's tabaxi companion. Slowly she pulled her daggers away from him, just far enough for Clover to sigh in relief and rub his neck thoroughly as though he had already been slashed through and through. "Have you paid off your debt yet, fur ball?"
"I-!" Silence. "I... haven't. Not yet. But! I'm headed straight to Meirlheim to do just that! Look, I've got my own party-posse and everything!"
"...Right. And where's the caravan that you loaned so much for anyway? Headed to Meirlheim to get that too?"
"No, hahahaaaa! Funny story, actually, um." Once more, Clover practically choked on his words trying to get them out. "Iiiiiiiiiit got caught... in a gnoll... fire?"
Instead of murdering him right away, a deep fire grew in the naga's eyes. Esciall, it seemed her name was, opened her mouth just slightly with a low, terrible hiss and a flick of her slim forked tongue. Her fangs were revealed enough for everyone to see equally how dangerous she was without any of her fancy gadgets. Two nagas appeared from the bramble a little ways behind her as well, cackling and laughing like fresh insane-asylum escapees. "You destroyed it. Do you have any idea how much work it was to find all the fine silks, leathers, and woods that went into that thing? Have you absolutely any clue how many houses we robbed to retrieve all its contents per request?"
"I'm sure it was h-hard, dear Esciall, but I'm still getting the money! I swear upon my granny's grave that you'll have it promptly!"
"Three days, Clover." Esciall retracted herself once again.
"Three day-! Aha, nevermind. It's alright, I'll have your money. I will. Can you just do us one eensy-weensy favor?"
"Are you smuggling something else across the city limits again?"
"...Maybe? Just dragon's treasure, is all. One we get it across, I'm sure the marketplace will buy for it all for top dollar. They would never let us carry it through the gates. When we're in, I'll have my lore on the artifacts, and you'll have your gold. Deal?"
"What about your 'party posse'? I doubt we can sneak them through the tunnels without attracting attention once we get back up. And when we do, even if we go through the underground, you'll need to find your way into the city at some point."
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xSkets | She/Her | Bi | Capricorn | Meme | FR + 2
xAuthor | D&D Enthusiast | Worldbuilder | Too Many OCs
xPWYW Dergs
xMeowdy-do
Nochnyr
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Sparrow definitely recognized the vials and bottles lining the naga’s toolbelts. She still had a scar on her shoulder from a time when Graeyorn had accidentally spilled one of his concoctions on her—of course, she couldn’t help but wonder if it was entirely accidental. The man had a tendency to fumble at just the perfect time to test his latest creation.
The white-haired girl sat stiffly in the saddle, peering back at Clover and the three nagas tensely. She hoped she wasn’t shaking—but even if she was, no one could blame her. Even Clover seemed uncharacteristically anxious, stumbling over his words as the seriousness of his need for treasure came to light.
Sparrow was torn between feeling guilty for intending to ditch him—and feeling annoyed that he hadn’t just told she and Oru that he was in debt and needed some money. She might’ve even considered helping him with some of his performances if he’d been honest about it all. Feeling the smallest twinge of sympathy for the tabaxi and his situation, she was about to speak up and defend him against this fearsome Esciall person, insisting the caravan really had burned up in a gnoll fire; but a moment of thought and she decided it was better to be quiet and wait to see how things unfolded.
The naga and tabaxi kept talking, and Sparrow raised her eyebrows at Esciall’s emphasis of the word “again”. So, not only was Clover a charismatic liar and eavesdropper, but he was also a smuggler. And, of course, he obviously had some dealings with crime lords known for running the black market, so it was logical to reason he was involved—or at least had been—in some more underground lines of business.
Sparrow had heard horror stories about the black market, even if she hadn’t known about the nagas’ involvement. Stories about houses plundered and families murdered or disappearing, only for some familiar household items or a slave or two to show up a few weeks later in the underground marketing business. Some of the other servants and slaves at Graeyorn’s house had even said she and Lark were bought off the black market, but she was never sure how true that was. She did know for a fact that her former master had gotten many of his supplies from mysterious sources, and looking at Esciall’s arsenal she didn’t doubt he might’ve been buying from the nagas all those years.
One of the scariest rumors she’d heard was that when children or young people on the streets went missing, they often ended up somewhere in the domains of crime lords and syndicates, shipped off over the mountains to labor as slaves in foreign cities—or, as some said, whisked away to the secret fortresses and temples of the Nomnaru. The Nomnaru were rarely spoken of except in whispers, and no one seemed to know for certain what race they were, if they were any specific race. Little was known of their culture or their rituals and no one had ever found an occupied dwelling belonging to the Nomnaru. No one still alive, anyway. All that was really known of the strange group was that they wore black robes with large black hoods and they seemed to be nomadic.
Sparrow tried to push the dark rumors from her mind, focusing on what Clover and Esciall were talking about. When the tabaxi spoke of dragon treasure, Sparrow’s eyes immediately went to his lute. He’d said it had come from dragon’s hoard—was that the treasure he was smuggling? Anything else he could’ve had must have been in the caravan, and it was long gone. Was he bluffing to keep the nagas from killing them on the spot? Or...was there something in those saddlebags? And what did he mean by ‘lore on the artifacts’?
And tunnels? What tunnels? She’d never heard of tunnels in or near Meirlheim—there were old myths about the first days of the city, centuries ago, when brave peasants tunneled under the castle that used to stand where the city now sprawled and sprung a daring attack on the king, which gave rise to the foundations of Meirlheim as it was currently known. But there were a hundred legends like that, and many of them didn’t involve tunnels at all.
From the way Esciall spoke of the so-called hidden passages and Clover’s ‘party posse’, Sparrow got the feeling she and Oru were on thin ice. She would gladly have volunteered to go on her merry way and let Clover go through the tunnels without such attention-drawing passengers, but somehow she doubted the nagas would just let her or Oru waltz off without a second thought.
She glanced back at the elf as her thoughts swirled with all the new information, wondering what he was thinking. Their plans of dumping the tabaxi and his dreams of glory didn’t seem, at the moment, like they would unfold very smoothly.
Sparrow definitely recognized the vials and bottles lining the naga’s toolbelts. She still had a scar on her shoulder from a time when Graeyorn had accidentally spilled one of his concoctions on her—of course, she couldn’t help but wonder if it was entirely accidental. The man had a tendency to fumble at just the perfect time to test his latest creation.
The white-haired girl sat stiffly in the saddle, peering back at Clover and the three nagas tensely. She hoped she wasn’t shaking—but even if she was, no one could blame her. Even Clover seemed uncharacteristically anxious, stumbling over his words as the seriousness of his need for treasure came to light.
Sparrow was torn between feeling guilty for intending to ditch him—and feeling annoyed that he hadn’t just told she and Oru that he was in debt and needed some money. She might’ve even considered helping him with some of his performances if he’d been honest about it all. Feeling the smallest twinge of sympathy for the tabaxi and his situation, she was about to speak up and defend him against this fearsome Esciall person, insisting the caravan really had burned up in a gnoll fire; but a moment of thought and she decided it was better to be quiet and wait to see how things unfolded.
The naga and tabaxi kept talking, and Sparrow raised her eyebrows at Esciall’s emphasis of the word “again”. So, not only was Clover a charismatic liar and eavesdropper, but he was also a smuggler. And, of course, he obviously had some dealings with crime lords known for running the black market, so it was logical to reason he was involved—or at least had been—in some more underground lines of business.
Sparrow had heard horror stories about the black market, even if she hadn’t known about the nagas’ involvement. Stories about houses plundered and families murdered or disappearing, only for some familiar household items or a slave or two to show up a few weeks later in the underground marketing business. Some of the other servants and slaves at Graeyorn’s house had even said she and Lark were bought off the black market, but she was never sure how true that was. She did know for a fact that her former master had gotten many of his supplies from mysterious sources, and looking at Esciall’s arsenal she didn’t doubt he might’ve been buying from the nagas all those years.
One of the scariest rumors she’d heard was that when children or young people on the streets went missing, they often ended up somewhere in the domains of crime lords and syndicates, shipped off over the mountains to labor as slaves in foreign cities—or, as some said, whisked away to the secret fortresses and temples of the Nomnaru. The Nomnaru were rarely spoken of except in whispers, and no one seemed to know for certain what race they were, if they were any specific race. Little was known of their culture or their rituals and no one had ever found an occupied dwelling belonging to the Nomnaru. No one still alive, anyway. All that was really known of the strange group was that they wore black robes with large black hoods and they seemed to be nomadic.
Sparrow tried to push the dark rumors from her mind, focusing on what Clover and Esciall were talking about. When the tabaxi spoke of dragon treasure, Sparrow’s eyes immediately went to his lute. He’d said it had come from dragon’s hoard—was that the treasure he was smuggling? Anything else he could’ve had must have been in the caravan, and it was long gone. Was he bluffing to keep the nagas from killing them on the spot? Or...was there something in those saddlebags? And what did he mean by ‘lore on the artifacts’?
And tunnels? What tunnels? She’d never heard of tunnels in or near Meirlheim—there were old myths about the first days of the city, centuries ago, when brave peasants tunneled under the castle that used to stand where the city now sprawled and sprung a daring attack on the king, which gave rise to the foundations of Meirlheim as it was currently known. But there were a hundred legends like that, and many of them didn’t involve tunnels at all.
From the way Esciall spoke of the so-called hidden passages and Clover’s ‘party posse’, Sparrow got the feeling she and Oru were on thin ice. She would gladly have volunteered to go on her merry way and let Clover go through the tunnels without such attention-drawing passengers, but somehow she doubted the nagas would just let her or Oru waltz off without a second thought.
She glanced back at the elf as her thoughts swirled with all the new information, wondering what he was thinking. Their plans of dumping the tabaxi and his dreams of glory didn’t seem, at the moment, like they would unfold very smoothly.
