Recent content by Nimruil

Nimruil noted the stagger with a leery, downward twitch of his mouth. "It seems so." Then, leaning forward, he folded his hands before him, aiming to catch what fleeting attention might remain in her addled senses. "The fae can be notoriously fickle with their minions, I have heard. Has the new...

Nimruil arched his brow in turn. Guarded silence draped him with an air of educational scrutiny; like a teacher who had just heard the correct answer from a flippant student, expressed with a heavy dose of irony. "Quite," he finally said, grudgingly accepting the content, though disregarding...

His glass hit the table with finality. Red eyes flared viciously. "What Maelzafan has taken from us? That sounds like an awfully dangerous notion, Vel'duith Voiryn. Near heretical, even." His finger tapped on Seelie's page, like a reminder. "The queen may well have curbed the ambitions of the...

Nimruil watched her carefully over the rim of his glass, eyes like twin crystals of red fluorite. Or indeed, like colour-leeched garnets. True, there were many such cryptic and hidden demonic messages to be found tattooed into the naked, stony skin of Zar'ahal. Like an ancient curse or oath...

A wordless nod of acknowledgement issued, though his mind was somewhere else. Cautiously watching the queen's proceedings. How she toyed with courtesan and gifted blade alike, while easily negotiating with humans as if it was nothing but a trifling matter. It worried him. Nothing overt; simply...

Nimruil watched Vyx'aria pass them by, granting graceful recognition to Vel'duith. This would seem to prove her words of servitude. The queen didn't seem to see him, or perhaps simply didn't acknowledge him in passing. It might have been for the better. He still didn't quite know where they...

Nimruil's brow knitted with dangerous recognition. Something about this 'procured tome' sounded distinctly familiar . . . "Ah, a demonic tome and a grimoire of Seelah . . . you appear to to have gathered quite a collection, then." Her exploits, though not directly attested as much, sounded...

"Yes, dwarves can be a capricious lot. Despite their, hm, so-called faith in tradition. Though tradition seems to shift into whatever interpretation they need at a given moment." He nodded, satisfied with her description of surface agriculture. It matched what he had read so far. "I believe I...

The plaza shifted like a grand chameleon from a picture of execution and iron-clad ceremony to one of warmth, colour and joy. The glow of the streets beyond spilled in, and many of the performers -- the fire dancers, the jugglers, the musicians, the acrobats -- playfully invaded the arena. The...

Nimruil stared. Another explorer of the surface. It seemed that more and more of his kin sought it. And yet, he had never witnessed the rays of the orbb himself . . . The ceremony of the newly formed Rahl'Valsharess drew his eye, and bought him time to think, to ponder upon Vel'duith's words...

". . . Yes, I am certain it was all you could think of." The dry comment came out the side of his mouth, but couldn't be fully drained of bitterness. He adjusted his robes slightly, as if to ensure they remained the same. By the sounds of it, though, none of significance had paid his little...

For a long moment, Nimruil looked as if turned to stone. Petrified. Eyes widened. Mortified. Again, furious calculation went into his eye, searching her little smirk, her eyes, her voice, seeking desperately for a lie there. But he found nothing but easy truth. The sort of truth that came from...

Nimruil frowned. Then his eyes squinted. 'Himself.' Ah, yes. Now memory began to serve. Still, his addled mind swiveled with strange olfactory senses and vague, prismatic flickerings in the corner of his eyes. But he remembered . . . being in his carriage, and now here. Nush nush. It...

The spell of identity-displacement faded. The nush nush abated. Nimruil was, at last, himself again. He looked down. What. Was he wearing? Cold, grating fear cut into his spine like bone-saws. The roar of the crowd engulfed him, a forest of arms raised in the air, all to thunderous hooting...

Nimruil was enjoying all the comfort and privacy of his carriage for as long as it was afforded him, fuming away on his pipe, attempting to ignore the beating of his heart in tandem with the drums, when suddenly, it happened. The shroom bloomed within him. Space elongated. Time? Irrelevant...