Noct Yaegir Vignette - Moonlight Before the Mountains

[Karskgorak Fiend-Crusher]

The old orc let out a hearty laugh and patted Melfa on the back.

“Cold? Ah, of course of course. I forget how troubled your kind can be by chiller climates. Come then daughter of Kotir and let me show you a hidden wonder of Crobhear!”

Karsk began to make his way across the hall, stopping to pluck Ispir off the ground with alarming ease. Aiming to carry the young bard like one would a rolled up rug.

“You shall come too child. I see you shivering alone like prey in this house of hunters and will not allow such an injustice. Now let us three go off and be warm!”

Those who would follow, were led down into the depths of Crobhear. To a room beside where one of the keeps several wells could be found. Beyond the unassuming door there stood a formidable bath, finely carved from the stone of the cliff. It had a chamber underneath with which to start a fire and heat the bath like a giant cooking pot. As well a simple drain that would empty water out the cliff face if unplugged.

Karsk went right to work, drawing water and collecting wood for the bath, imploring whoever else “joined” him down to pitch in.

 

[Sigrun Flintfeet]

Sigrun glanced across the room at Vel'duith, noting her distinct change in demeanour. At first she had seemed so exuberant, as if even a dwarf's presence couldn't strike her wonder and joy from seeing the moon. But for some reason, it changed when Sigrun questioned her vision.

Strange. Perhaps she had simply been reminded of present company and rediscovered the awkwardness. Or perhaps, she had been reminded of something else. Regardless, she left in rather a hurry. Sigrun closed her eyes, but her attention drifted carefully after the wet slap of feet going across the room, followed by the rushed rustling of clothes.

And like that, the drow had left, the door slamming defensively behind her, like a closed gate. Sigrun mentally shrugged to herself. Who knew how someone from the deepest parts of the Underrealm thought? In truth, it relieved her to be in her own company once more, though she did find herself nursing a spark of curiousity at her counterpart's sudden fluster.

 

[Vel'duith Voiryn]

Vel'duith searched her thoughts as she fled to the barracks, her unsashed robes billowing in her wake. If Sigrun had guessed what visit she had alluded to, she hadn't shown it, despite surely knowing of those sorts of tales of the drow. She herself had encountered accounts over and over again in books of history, where a bloodthirsty raid-party of what she knew to be masked drow children had come with sword, knives, and glaive in the night to some village, leaving fire, carnage, and weeping in their wake. She bitterly remembered her yathrin's lies. The only swords she had seen wielded had been in the hands of her cadre-mates. There was no enemy army poised to strike. There were truly not even any enemies. Only people who had gone to bed in peace, doomed to be awakened to their slaughter.

It had been years since the violent, disturbing memory of her blooding-raid had resurfaced in a reverie, and she hadn't even been meditating when it did just now. So, why now? Thinking back, the change coincided with her choice to follow Sse'elah's dogma and teachings. Before that, why, most meditations, no memories came to her at all, only a strangely calming, mind emptying void. Now she was daily haunted by seemingly every foul memory she had ever had. Was Sse'elah indeed behind it? Was this some message, some lesson? The drow paced a moment in the hall outside the barracks, and pondered. This keep seems quite old - might its library here harbor any enlightenment beyond the expected cryptozoology, thanatology, and weapon-treatises among its shelves?

Stepping slowly to avoid waking any still sleeping, Vel'duith pulled a short beam of deep red-dyed spidersilk from her pack, sat down, wiped the dust from her chilled feet, and began wrapping them in the silk. She rolled the spare ends after cutting off each makeshift footwrap, fashioning them into simple silken cords to bind the wrappings together. Appraising her handiwork, a slight grimace twisted her thin lips. Hideous. But it would just have to do for now.

Nearly afraid to sit and clear her mind anew, the drow decided to seek solace, distraction, and perhaps even enlightenment in the library. She tied her robes the rest of the way closed, pulled a comb through her hair lest it start to tangle, tucked her silver dagger into her robe-sash, and started down the side-hallway the young guard that morning had told her led toward the library.