Eluriel meets Naga and they discuss his past.

The philosophical ageless male elf gracefully enters from west.
The philosophical ageless male elf looks at you.
The philosophical ageless male elf coughs.
Philosophical ageless male elf.
Bone-pale, thin skin sags over this elven face, weathered and wrinkled with
thought. Veins bulge out here and there, their jagged course plainly
visible under the flesh's sickly translucence. Beneath a high-sloping
forehead, deep-set eyes glare with a savagery set against an erudite brow.
He has scars on his nose, left hand, right hand, forehead, left cheek and
right cheek.
He has blue eyes.
He has a bald head.
He is short and lean for an elf.
He looks wonderful.
He is in good shape.
He is tired.
He is wielding a long wooden branch with his right hand.
He is wearing a black robe.
The philosophical ageless male elf tosses another glass onto the pile.
The philosophical ageless male elf drops a glass.
You say in Quenya: Greetings.
The philosophical ageless male elf wipes his mouth on his sleeve.
The philosophical ageless male elf croaks in Quenya: Greetings.
The philosophical ageless male elf croaks in Quenya: One moment.
The philosophical ageless male elf tidies himself up a little in his
reflection in the fountain.
The philosophical ageless male elf goes hmmmm.
The philosophical ageless male elf nods.
The philosophical ageless male elf looks at you.
The philosophical ageless male elf croaks in Quenya: Always best to be
well-groomed for the ladies!
You smile slightly.
The philosophical ageless male elf checks the weather.
The market place of Elvandar.
This is the center of the market place of Elvandar. The ground is paved
with jade plates and all around you can see shops and people who offer
various wares or services. You hear the bubbling sound of water which comes
from the middle of the market, where you notice a large crystal fountain.
The market place itself extends in every direction.
There are eight obvious exits: north, northeast, east, southeast,
south, southwest, west, northwest.
An ancient stone altar, some glasses and an ornamented water-filled marble
basin.
Beladan and a philosophical ageless male elf.
The philosophical ageless male elf looks at you.
The philosophical ageless male elf croaks in Quenya: That's quite an
outfit!
You are a young furtive female elf, presenting yourself as:
Eluriel Aelin-uial.
You have scars on your left cheek and right cheek.
You have purple eyes.
You have normal long silver hair.
You are of normal height and lean for an elf.
You look gorgeous.
You are in good shape.
You are somewhat alert.
You are wearing a forest-green cloak, a pair of leather gauntlets, a pair of
leather thigh-guards, a pair of soft leather boots and a shining metallic
chaincoif.
Under that you are wearing a gemmed golden ring, a leather shirt, a padded
tunic, a pair of thick leather trousers, a plain ring and a thick studded
leather jacket.
You are resting.
The philosophical ageless male elf asks you in Quenya: Are you a
Crusader, perhaps?
You say in Quenya: It's nothing much.
You shake your head in disagreement.
The philosophical ageless male elf sits on the rim of the fountain.
The philosophical ageless male elf croaks in Quenya: I don't see too
many elves decked out in chainmail, save for the guards, perhaps.
The philosophical ageless male elf eats a cherry.
You say in Quenya: Yes, it can be cumbersome. I find it protects well
though.
The philosophical ageless male elf croaks in Quenya: Ah, so you must be
an adventurer of another sort. What drove you to leave your home?
The philosophical ageless male elf croaks in Quenya: Elvandar is nice
and quiet. No sense leaving.
The philosophical ageless male elf eats a cherry.
You emote: Eluriel reflects a moment.
The philosophical ageless male elf spits a cherry-pit onto the accumulating
pile of garbage.
You say in Quenya: I... would like to improve myself.
The philosophical ageless male elf claps.
The philosophical ageless male elf croaks in Quenya: A lofty aim,
harder for some of us than others.
You nod quietly.
The philosophical ageless male elf croaks in Quenya: I've given up, I
think.
You ask in Quenya: Oh?
The philosophical ageless male elf croaks in Quenya: No sense toiling.
Take it nice and easy, a whole lot of nothing. I can scrape by enough to
fill my stomach and some booze besides.
The philosophical ageless male elf eats a cherry.
You say in Quenya: Seems rather dull...
The philosophical ageless male elf croaks in Quenya: I suppose, but
folks like you come around.
The philosophical ageless male elf croaks in Quenya: I'm an exile of
sorts, I suppose. I really can't do much more than wander about the city,
stare at pretty furniture, and so on.
You ask in Quenya: An exile? From where?
The philosophical ageless male elf croaks in Quenya: Just about
everywhere but here. Years ago I set out and made a name for myself as a
mage, out in Arborea.
Hmmmmm.
You ask in Quenya: What is your name?
The philosophical ageless male elf introduces himself as: Naga.
You introduce yourself as: Eluriel Aelin-uial.
Naga croaks in Quenya: A pleasure, Eluriel.
You say in Quenya: Naga... That sounds familiar...
Naga croaks in Quenya: You seem like a girl with more sense than I had
at your age. If you improve beyond that, you should have no difficulty
avoiding my choices.
Naga eats a cherry.
You ponder the situation.
You ask in Quenya: What were your choices?
Naga goes hmmmm.
Naga croaks in Quenya: Well, out in Arborea-town, I managed to get
myself elected to the position of Judge. Quite an accomplishment for an
elf!
You smile slightly.
Naga croaks in Quenya: If only I had kept to private affairs, doing my
research, rather than meddling.
Naga sighs.
You say in Quenya: Our judge now is a human... interesting, hm?
Naga croaks in Quenya: More like an atrocity.
Naga shakes his head in disagreement.
Naga croaks in Quenya: Please, I speak rashly.
Naga coughs.
You shrug slightly.
Naga croaks in Quenya: All Hail Queen Gwenlanea and her loyal
servants!
Naga stands up.
Naga does a limp salute.
Naga sits back down.
Naga whispers to you in Quenya: This town is my last straw, can't
afford to look bad here!
Hmmmmm.
Naga croaks in Quenya: Anyway, I had whipped up enormous popular
support against the Crusade and even this city.
say Curious...
You say in Quenya: Curious...
Naga croaks in Quenya: It was eminently useful, and I quite enjoyed the
position of power.
Naga croaks in Quenya: And the wealth.
Naga croaks in Quenya: Anyway, things changed when the Avatar of Asral
took a very reformist, conciliatory stance, and sought to remove me from
office for my extreme rhetoric.
Naga croaks in Quenya: By appointing one of her lackeys to run against
me, a mere boy of 16!
Naga croaks in Quenya: So, I did the natural thing, and conspired to
hire assassins.
You laugh.
Naga croaks in Quenya: Namely, certain clerics to the north.
You ask in Quenya: You needed them for a boy of 16?
Naga croaks in Quenya: The whole clergy of Asral stood behind him. I
myself could not be seen to personally intimidate him, you understand.
You nod thoughtfully.
Naga croaks in Quenya: But in any case, I tampered with the city
registries to make such a thing possible, allowing these assassins entry
into the city, but even so, it was not happening on schedule.
The water in the fountain bubbles loudly.
Naga croaks in Quenya: I was bound to lose, so I pilfered the treasury,
only to be reported by my own secretary.
Naga croaks in Quenya: And charged and convicted for treason.
Naga croaks in Quenya: The Tanielites, because I earned their ire
earlier, tracked me down and returned the funds to Arborea.
You say in Quenya: That is quite a hole to have dug...
Naga croaks in Quenya: So, here I am.
Naga croaks in Quenya: I got none of the gold, lost my power, lost my
whole career.
You ask in Quenya: What made you go against the Crusaders and
Elvandar?
Naga croaks in Quenya: I am not even able to practice magic or
alchemy.
Naga asks you in Quenya: How else could an elf get elected in
Arborea?!
Hmmmmm.
Naga tells you in Quenya: Hatred is the strongest and most useful
emotion.
Naga croaks in Quenya: That's one thing you should learn.
You say in Quenya: Indeed...
The angry female elf gracefully enters from north.
The angry female elf looks at Naga.
Naga croaks in Quenya: Besides, I was personally bitter as well. They
burnt down the Temple of Asral.
Naga looks at the angry female elf.
Angry female elf.
She has scars on her nose, left cheek and right cheek.
She has black eyes.
She has very short dark hair.
She is of normal height and lean for an elf.
She looks fine.
She is in good shape.
She is weary.
She is wielding an elven longbow with her right hand.
She is wearing a black robe, a large leather backpack, a pair of hard
leather boots, a right warglove and a wooden white fiddle.
You surmise that she wears additional body armours under this.
Naga croaks in Quenya: The Crusade deserved it, I thought.
The angry female elf gracefully leaves north.
You ask in Quenya: Were you an Asralite?
Naga croaks in Quenya: Indeed, I was. Now, the gods have abandoned
me.
You nod thoughtfully.
Naga croaks in Quenya: And, quite frankly, there is no god whom by
worshipping I would not disgrace.
You ask in Quenya: How long ago did all this happen?
Naga croaks in Quenya: All I ask is they leave me alone.
Naga croaks in Quenya: About a dozen years ago or so.
You nod.
Naga tells you in Quenya: I was quite the mage, once. Alchemist,
too.
Naga nods seriously.
Naga asks you in Quenya: You aren't a Scribe, are you? I'm
forbidden from speaking with them.
You say in Quenya: I don't remember it much... but then I never paid
much attention to what went on outside the city.
You shake your head in disagreement.
You say in Quenya: No, I joined the alchemists actually.
Naga croaks in Quenya: Ah, well, I am an expert alchemist, but
unfortunately access to the guild-hall is off-limits to me for now.
Naga croaks in Quenya: You might have noticed the books in the
library?
Naga croaks in Quenya: Many of them I wrote.
You nod.
You say in Quenya: I think I did see some by you.
The heavy massive male tshahark storms in from south.
The heavy massive male tshahark looks at Naga.
Naga croaks in Quenya: There's nothing left for me but memories.
Naga looks at the heavy massive male tshahark.
Heavy massive male tshahark.
Simply, this is a huge mammoth of a tshahark, complete with mean,
piercing red eyes.
He has scars on his nose.
He has red eyes.
He is tall and fat for a tshahark.
He looks coarse.
He is in good shape.
He is extremely alert.
He is wearing a black robe, a forest-green cloak, a left warglove, a pair of
soft leather boots, a right warglove and a wide leather belt (with one
scabbard attached to it).
You surmise that he wears additional body armours under this.
The heavy massive male tshahark nods.
The heavy massive male tshahark looks at you.
The heavy massive male tshahark nods.
You nod slightly to the heavy massive male tshahark.
Naga exhales deeply.
Naga eats a cherry.
The heavy massive male tshahark storms out north.
Naga spits a cherry-pit onto the pile of glasses.
You ponder the situation.
Naga tells you in Quenya: I've been a useless old man for a long
time, I just never realized it. That's the difficult part.
Naga eats a cherry.
Naga croaks in Quenya: I need something to drink. Would you care for
something?
Naga stands up.
Hmmmmm.
You say in Quenya: I suppose.
Naga nods.
Naga gracefully leaves west.
You stand up.
You travel a short distance west.
The market place of Elvandar.
This is the western part of the market place of Elvandar. The ground is
paved with jade plates and all around you can see shops and people who
offer various wares or services. Some statues decorate the western border
of the market while large trees grow here, which provide shade during the
day and give shelter against wind and rain. Next to the trees you notice
the sales counter of a tobacco merchant. To the west you can see the
entrance to a pub.
There are six obvious exits: north, northeast, east, southeast, south,
west.
Naga and a pointy-eared old male elf.
Naga gracefully leaves east.
You travel a short distance east.
The market place of Elvandar.
This is the center of the market place of Elvandar. The ground is paved
with jade plates and all around you can see shops and people who offer
various wares or services. You hear the bubbling sound of water which comes
from the middle of the market, where you notice a large crystal fountain.
The market place itself extends in every direction.
There are eight obvious exits: north, northeast, east, southeast,
south, southwest, west, northwest.
An ancient stone altar, some glasses and an ornamented water-filled marble
basin.
Beladan and Naga.
Naga offers the elven wine to you for free.
Do you want to accept the offer (y/n)? y
Naga gives the elven wine to you.
A fine red wine made from only the finest grapes grown in the forests of
Elvandar.
Naga raises a glass of wine.
Naga croaks in Quenya: To Gwenlanea, Queen of the Elves.
Naga drinks from an elven wine.
You smile slightly at Naga.
You drink from an elven wine.
Naga continues in one big gulp.
Naga tosses the glass onto the pile.
Naga drops a glass.
Naga drops a glass.
Naga croaks in Quenya: I snuck in another one at the tavern.
Naga grins.
You smirk.
You drop a glass.
Naga returns to the rim of the fountain.
Naga croaks in Quenya: Who were your parents?
Canoi strolls in from south.
Naga croaks in Quenya: Forest-elves or were they from here?
Canoi sits down to rest a while.
Naga looks at Canoi.
Canoi looks at Naga.
You emote: Eluriel glances down.
Canoi offers in Common: Hello.
Naga nods to Canoi.
Canoi is a dark-haired wild-eyed male halfling.
He has blue eyes.
He has normal long dark hair and a short dark beard.
He is short and lean for a halfling.
He looks hideous.
He is in good shape.
He is alert.
He is wearing a leather cap, a left warglove, a medium leather backpack, a
right warglove, a white wide kimono and a white yellow belt.
He is resting.
Naga asks Canoi in Common: Do you speak Quenya?
Naga croaks in Common: I wouldn't want to be rude.
Canoi shakes his head in disagreement.
Canoi offers in Common: You may speak what you wish.
Naga tells Canoi in Common: I consider you an acquaintance if perhaps
even a friend, so I do not wish to breach a spirit of welcome and
hospitality.
Canoi chuckles.
Canoi offers in Common: I trust that what you say in your native tongue
holds no ill-will towards myself.
You sit down to rest and emote: Eluriel takes a seat by the fountain.
The angry female elf gracefully enters from north.
The angry female elf drinks water from the fountain.
Naga croaks in Common: A dozen languages nearly are known to me
equally.
Canoi goes hmmmm.
Naga croaks in Common: It makes no difference.
Canoi tells Naga in Common: That is right, you were once a scribe I
have heard.
Naga croaks in Common: The third master-scribe among adventurers.
Naga croaks in Common: Forty years ago.
Canoi ponders the situation.
Canoi offers in Common: Well done.
You emote: Eluriel smiles faintly.
The angry female elf gracefully leaves south.
Naga croaks in Common: I can point to nothing that is my own now, so I
must gesture to meaningless things of the past.
Canoi offers in Common: I have recently begun my studies as well.
Canoi is a dark-haired wild-eyed male halfling.
He has blue eyes.
He has normal long dark hair and a short dark beard.
He is short and lean for a halfling.
He looks hideous.
He is in good shape.
He is extremely alert.
He is wearing a leather cap, a left warglove, a medium leather backpack, a
right warglove, a white wide kimono and a white yellow belt.
He is resting.
Naga tells Canoi in Common: Then I cannot speak to you, I am afraid.
Mastrer Rafael, who was my own apprentice, has forbidden me from talking to
Scribes.
Canoi goes hmmmm.
Naga croaks in Common: Out of fear that I will injure their
reputation.
Canoi offers in Common: I was unaware of that, and apologize for
causing you any trouble then.
Naga tells Canoi in Common: But do me a favor of telling him that I am
obedient to his request.
Canoi nods.
Naga tells you in Quenya: You seemed to become distant.
Canoi offers in Common: I will let him know you are observing his
request with great fervor.
You ask in Quenya: Hm?
Naga croaks in Quenya: When I mentioned your parents.
Naga croaks in Quenya: Do they still live?
Naga looks intently at you.
You say in Quenya: No... they do not.
Naga sighs quietly.
Naga croaks in Quenya: I regret having mentioned as much.
You shake your head in disagreement.
Naga croaks in Quenya: It can only be a painful story for us elves,
since we are blessed with lives that stretch across centuries.
Naga asks you in Quenya: What criminal or beast...?
Canoi looks at the leather backpack.
You emote: Eluriel looks down and smooths her tunic.
Canoi ponders the sky for a moment.
You say in Quenya: Beast... criminal... you could say both I
suppose.
Naga croaks in Quenya: I believe I understand.
You emote: Eluriel looks off momentarily.
Canoi looks north.
Naga is a philosophical ageless male elf.
Bone-pale, thin skin sags over this elven face, weathered and wrinkled with
thought. Veins bulge out here and there, their jagged course plainly
visible under the flesh's sickly translucence. Beneath a high-sloping
forehead, deep-set eyes glare with a savagery set against an erudite brow.
He has scars on his nose, left hand, right hand, forehead, left cheek and
right cheek.
He has blue eyes.
He has a bald head.
He is short and lean for an elf.
He looks wonderful.
He is in good shape.
He is extremely alert.
He is wielding a long wooden branch with his right hand.
He is wearing a black robe.
He is resting.
Naga croaks in Quenya: Most of us can only count small remains of our
once-large families. The humans, who destroyed Eal-Delih, decimated our
numbers.
Naga croaks in Quenya: It must have been followers of their creator,
the Old God, who yet plagues our lands.
You suddenly get a headache. You feel rather miserable.
Naga comforts you.
You emote: Eluriel rubs her head.
Naga croaks in Quenya: Everything we do now is a mere fragment of what
we once had. Not only are families fewer, but our learning, too, was
destroyed.
Naga asks you in Quenya: Did you know that Alchemy is a lost art,
recently revived? The whole art was lost when the Sathonytes destroyed our
old capital.
Canoi ponders the sky for a moment.
You shake your head in disagreement.
Naga croaks in Quenya: We only have a few drops of water compared to
the sea. The same is true among the Scribes, among magicians, even.
Hmmmmm.
Naga croaks in Quenya: We all live with the dark legacy.
Canoi ponders the sky for a moment.
Canoi looks at the leather backpack.
Naga tells you in Quenya: The only thing we can do is try to live
in such a way that honors those who were slaughtered and revive the lost
arts.
Naga croaks in Quenya: I have failed, but perhaps you can make
progress.
You nod thoughtfully.
Naga croaks in Quenya: Who is your tutor in the guild of
Alchemists?
You say in Quenya: Arthur is. Though I do not see him much.
Naga croaks in Quenya: I am his father-in-law.
You ask in Quenya: Oh?
Naga nods.
Naga croaks in Quenya: I adopted his wife when she was young, after
having left her family, and handed her over to him when romance blossomed
between the young souls.
You nod.
Naga croaks in Quenya: He has twins.
You say in Quenya: Lovely.
Naga sighs.
Naga croaks in Quenya: He would have had another son.
Naga is a philosophical ageless male elf.
Bone-pale, thin skin sags over this elven face, weathered and wrinkled with
thought. Veins bulge out here and there, their jagged course plainly
visible under the flesh's sickly translucence. Beneath a high-sloping
forehead, deep-set eyes glare with a savagery set against an erudite brow.
He has scars on his nose, left hand, right hand, forehead, left cheek and
right cheek.
He has blue eyes.
He has a bald head.
He is short and lean for an elf.
He looks wonderful.
He is in good shape.
He is extremely alert.
He is wielding a long wooden branch with his right hand.
He is wearing a black robe.
He is resting.
Naga croaks in Quenya: The Sathonytes abducted the poor wife, tied her
to a tree, and cut the young boy out from her womb.
Naga grows faint.
Naga croaks in Quenya: They...
Naga croaks in Quenya: Consumed him.
You say in Quenya: I am sorry.
Naga croaks in Quenya: While this had occurred, the Tanielite clergy
slandered Arthur for his "unnatural" relationship: she was an elf.
Naga tells you in Quenya: That was part of my hatred, to be sure,
and why I do not turn now to Taniel.
You nod.
You say in Quenya: You don't seem to hold love for the humans though
either...
Naga croaks in Quenya: I am no innocent man, I have no qualms about
hurting when it is to my advantage, but even through everything, I can see
glimpses of noble things. And nothing was purer and better than that
innocent love.
Naga croaks in Quenya: And I'm not too hardened to know tragedy.
You nod thoughtfully.
Naga croaks in Quenya: My own fate? I'm a common criminal. But Arthur
was different. I have not seen him in nearly 20 years.
Naga asks you in Quenya: Is he middle-aged now?
Naga croaks in Quenya: The years must be showing.
You say in Quenya: I suppose you would call it that... I find it
difficult to tell just how old humans are.
Naga tells you in Quenya: They dry out, like a fruit in the
sun.
Naga croaks in Quenya: And bend, too, like a tree's heaviest
branches.
Naga croaks in Quenya: And they're fortunate if they keep their
teeth.
Naga nods seriously.
Hmmmmm.
Naga croaks in Quenya: In the last years, they are reduced to an
infantile imbicility, a second childhood. Utterly helpless. Some warriors,
reaching this age in Arborea, don their old armor and prefer to die
fighting.
Naga croaks in Quenya: They approach kobolds or other creatures, nearly
blind, and fight not so much as to wrest life from the other, but from
themselves.
Naga croaks in Quenya: Lame, hardly able to lift their swords.
Naga croaks in Quenya: Others simply are fed by surviving children, if
they happen to have any, or, if they are not so blessed, beg in the streets
until they succumb to heat or cold.
Naga croaks in Quenya: There is a pitiful quality about them.
Naga nods seriously.
Hmmmmm.
Naga asks you in Quenya: Do you know what is most fatal to our
kind?
You ask in Quenya: What is that?
Naga croaks in Quenya: Boredom. Our longevity means nothing if we lack
the will to continue. The humans, for all their weaknesses, do not lose that
spirit.
Naga croaks in Quenya: Sometimes I fear I may approach that point. It
is as though I have more time than engagements.
Naga croaks in Quenya: But one thing is keeping me going.
You raise an eyebrow curiously.
>>Canoi ponders the sky for a moment.
Canoi ponders the sky for a moment.
Naga croaks in Quenya: If not completely, to at least partially recover
some fragment of what I once had, so that I might die without only shame for
a grave.
Canoi looks south.
You ask Naga in Quenya: Are you really so cursed throughout the land
that you might ruin young scribes' reputation simply by speaking with
them?
Naga croaks in Quenya: Yes.
Naga is a philosophical ageless male elf.
Bone-pale, thin skin sags over this elven face, weathered and wrinkled with
thought. Veins bulge out here and there, their jagged course plainly
visible under the flesh's sickly translucence. Beneath a high-sloping
forehead, deep-set eyes glare with a savagery set against an erudite brow.
He has scars on his nose, left hand, right hand, forehead, left cheek and
right cheek.
He has blue eyes.
He has a bald head.
He is short and lean for an elf.
He looks wonderful.
He is in good shape.
He is extremely alert.
He is wielding a long wooden branch with his right hand.
He is wearing a black robe.
He is resting.
You say in Quenya: Interesting...
Naga croaks in Quenya: Those who do not regard me as irreparably
malign, a disease upon this world, at least see me an absurdity.
Canoi looks north.
Canoi looks northwest.
Canoi looks northeast.
Canoi goes hmmmm.
You say in Quenya: Well, you do not seem such a wretch to me upon first
knowing you, if that is any consolation.
Naga croaks in Quenya: You are too kind. The best mind hold the worst
scorn.
You stand up and emote: Eluriel gracefully gets to her feet.
Naga croaks in Quenya: Best men, rather.
You say in Quenya: I suppose I should get back to training...
Canoi waves in Naga's direction.
You emote: Eluriel smiles faintly.
Naga croaks in Quenya: I wish I had something to give you upon your
departure, as is sometimes the case, but I am poor, and must be contented to
leave you with only the memory of our having met.
Naga goes hmmmm.
Naga starts to search.
You nod to Naga.
Naga stops searching.
You tell Naga in Quenya: It was good to have met you.
Naga croaks in Quenya: May the gods smile upon your efforts.
You say in Quenya: Good evening.
You nod slightly.
You travel a short distance south.

-- ElurieL - 2011-06-23