2nd helping of Lambshanks--Awkward Dinner Conversations

Skookumchuk had just finished his first helping of lamb, and had waved his hand to Garridan for a second helping, and as he waited, he knew that it was not a good time to do some exercises or dancing. He started to feel a bit nervous and wanted something to which he could distract himself from the fact that he was not currently being useful.

He looked at his companions eating silently. It seemed pretty strange that they were all together there, pushed together by common decency and nothing better to do. Everyone else seemed lost in their own thoughts. The orange-skinned gnome glanced from side to side to see if someone would be willing to talk about something other than what was going on in their own heads, or maybe would be willing to spill something from the well of thoughts within.

The blue haired monk cleared his throat and began to speak in his usual monotonous drone, "I once wrestled with an octopus." He began to the shocked looks of his companions. "It was during a storm at sea, and one of the waves brought the beastie right on top of me. I couldn't say whether or not I won, but we grappled for a good half hour before they peeled us apart. I feel pretty good about it, because the captain liked the taste of octopus, and gave me an extra ration of rum."

A few moments of silence ensued after he had finished. "I was wondering if anything unusual had ever happened to one of you and didn't think it was proper to ask without providing an example. Although I would suppose now would be a good time to ask, but now the whole idea seems silly." He glanced awkwardly toward the bar to see that his seconds were still far from coming. Then he sighed.

Morelen smirked at the gnome's story, if only because she could so clearly picture him wrestling to the death with a huge, rubbery cephalopod. What surprised her more was that in half an hour the crew was unable to pull the pair apart! She wondered if they were taking bets....

The silence hung in the air for a moment longer as her spoon finished its halted journey toward her mouth. She wasn't entirely sure what she was eating. Some sort of stew... It tasted of ash of course, but the warmth and thick consistency of the broth was a welcome balm to her parched throat.

Trying to think of something unusual that had happened to her wasn't difficult... In fact, this moment here with her three companions was probably one of the most normal things she'd done in memory! Trying to think of something unusual that happened that she felt comfortable enough mentioning was another issue altogether.

"Once..." The sorceress spoke, then quickly took another mouthful of stew to wet her palate. "I woke up groggy, in a meat locker with a strange tattoo that I don't remember getting."

Realizing that she should have worn some kind of expression instead of telling the brief tale completely deadpan, Morelen painted a smile on her cold, porcelain features....then promptly shoveled in another spoonful of the hot broth.

Nuari choked a bit on his stew. Raising an eyebrow he looked toward the unusual woman. He couldn't help wondering where the tattoo was and what it depicted. Seeing no answers forthcoming, he let it go.

"I've heard that may not be so uncommon a story in port towns," he said with an attempt at mirth. Or perhaps he was stalling. What 'interesting' stories did he feel like sharing.

He had lived a rather sheltered life, and by elf standards was still very young. What 'interesting' things had he had TIME to do... The only thing that kept coming to mind was accidently killing Thomalain and the priests... and while he'd found himself more open and revealing today than any other day in his past, he wasn't that open.

"I... umm... Lost a horse once, and had to walk a very long way to the next town..." He finally answered weakly. Shaking his head, he added. "I think the 'octopus' story is going to win... Unless Zehyre has something to beat it??"

It was dinner time and the tavern was busy with it's normal customers. The conversations around the table kept to a low hum as the patrons enjoyed their meals after a long hard days work. Unless you are perceptive you would not see anything particularly unusual round the dining room. Upon closer observation you might find one table to stand out among the rest. Here, as you can see, sit a self confident elf, a beautiful, yet stone faced lady, a well built, burnished skinned gnome, and another gnome with wild green hair who, instead of sitting on a chair, sits on a boar.

Their table conversation comes and goes in short, awkward snippets yet the green haired gnome seems to be missing every word of it. She is in her own world. Her eyes seem to glaze over from time to time as she stares for short periods at nothing in particular. Absentmindedly she feeds herself and the animal that bears her from the fare laid before her. Only one thing stirs her out of her reverie. The mention of her name.

Nuari wrote:Unless Zehyre has something to beat it??

"Ah'm soorry?" The gnome's brown eyes snapped back into focus as she glanced around the table to see who it was that spoke of her. "Ah dowan't have mooch t' baet ehnehthing aht t' mohment." Zerye looked down at her fork and thought, Thehs thing woon't doweh a bit o' good. Weish Ah had meh staff...

Nuari just stared at the strange little gnome. THIS is what he was concerned about. Fate had somehow thrown them all together, and they knew nothing about each other... Part of that was his fault. MOST of that was his fault... He wasn't very open and encouraging with people... Nor did he really see that changing today. He'd already told Morelon more about himself than he had told anyone in decades,

Morelon seemed to have enough similar problems to himself... After their talk in the temple, he felt relieved... and was certain he could trust her to keep his secrets... What of these two? One blurted out random things at any given time... the other seemed in a daze. If the Heroes of Sandpoint were to flourish, they had to trust each other... Skookumchuk had already fought to save their lives... but for how long? Zehyre... Well... the druid concerned him a lot.

From what he had determined, she liked to kill goblins. He suspected as long as they were killing goblins, she'd be a valuable ally. What happened if they were jumped by bandits? Or Trolls? Would she get bored and wander away... Not even realize what was going on around her, much like this conversation...

"Zeyhre... we were um... sharing interesting stories. Do you have any you'd like to tell us? Where you came from... why your in Sandpoint to begin with?"

Quickly he looked at his other companions. Skookumchuk he was just as curious about. Morelon he knew some of why she'd left home... but didn't want her to feel excluded. "Anyone!?"

Skookumchuk looked a little concerned. "Did you drink too much and forget? I came for the dancing..." He stood up on his chair and did a graceful pirouette. He then placed one bare foot on the back of the chair and rode it as fell with his beefy arms outstretched. When the chair clattered to the floor he spun around on his knees and ended with a flourish.

...and it was marvelous." the gnome finished, sounding as impassive and monotonous as he began the conversation. He stood up, righted his chair and sat back down as if nothing had happened. He drank the water that had been provided for him. "I stayed because I thought I was needed. Its a lovely thing, to be needed."

"The dancing... of course." Nuari sighed.

Apparently the festival of Sandpoint was more famous than he gave it credit for. It seemed to attract people from all over... He, himself had been pleasantly surprised when he arrived to discover the quaint party... but Skookumchuk seemed to come just for it.

Granted that didn't explain where the gnome had come from, or why he was on the road to begin with. He cut another piece of meat and took a bite as he wondered if he was simply wasting time seeking information from those two.

After a few moments, awkward silence reigned once more. Morelen figured it was time for the wine... Waving over the waitress, she requested four clean glasses, and then from her pack, pulled out the dusty old bottle they'd found earlier that day.

"Okay, Nuari, I'll bite," she offered, seeing the defeated look on the elf's face. "I think you all know most of this already, but I guess maybe we've never properly introduced ourselves."

The woman set the bottle on the table beside her and swallowed a spoonful of stew before continuing.

"I am Morelen... No last name that I know of," she added with a tip of her head. "I hail from Magnimar where I once worked as a translator of Thassilonian rune writing, but I've recently decided to leave the big city in search of places less treacherous. So I find myself here about to head into the center of a tribe of goblins and honestly, I still consider myself successful in that escape!

"Though I've not had much time to develop hobbies, I find that I have some skill at building scarecrows and I have a special place in my heart for putting an end to the winged little wretches. The crows I mean..." She thought it best to clarify just so there were no misunderstandings.

Nostrils flaring briefly, the sorceress pulled up her spear that had been resting against the wall next to her. There tied just beneath the flanged spearhead, was the dead crow they'd found floating alongside the wine bottle in that strange circular chamber within Lamashtu's temple. It had a tiny noose fitted about it's feathery neck where it dangled as awkwardly as their dinner conversation.

Morelen laid it back against the wall after one of the patrons turned a curious eye to her.

"I realize I didn't kill this one personally, but perhaps having this little trophy will keep the others at bay. A girl can hope, can't she?!

"Ah, thank you," she smiled, as the waitress passed by and set the four goblets down by the bottle.

Brushing the dust off the old label, she could just barely make out some of the words in Common. Ustalavian Black Mushroom. Huh... Well...maybe she should drink first just in case...

She poured out the four glasses, finishing off the bottle by adding a little extra in Zeyre's goblet.

"I'd like to propose a toast." Morelen's chair grated across the floor as she stood to make it official. "My fellow Heroes of Sandpoint... May tomorrow bring defeat to our enemy, peace to the noble citizens of this town, and a deeper understanding and friendship with one another. To Victory on every front!"

With that, she raised her glass before drinking deeply.

Sighing, the woman looked at her goblet forlornly. Good wine or bad, she could hardly tell, she just hoped it wasn't too rich for Skookumchuk lest he vomit it out on the floor beside her. Mushrooms were pretty bland, weren't they?

The gnome looked sorrowfully at the glass of wine before him. Although hope springs eternal, he had not had much reason to hope when it came to food. He desired to enjoy the dark liquid, but the smell was slightly off-putting. But since he was a brave gnome, or at least he was trying to be one, he gave it a little taste (19) and was pleasantly surprised. He took another swig, and swished it around his mouth and gave Morelen a little smile. His cheeks turned a slightly redder shade of orange, and he did his best to put a pleasant expression on his face, which, considering a pleasant taste in his mouth, was not hard.

"It really is too bad that this is the only bottle we have, this is a taste I could get used to easily." He waved his hand in front of his face as if it wasn't important. "But first things first, introductions!

"I am Skookumchuk Hoosierdatty, Dancer, Sailor, and Student of the open hand. I have sailed the length of the inner sea, and spent a long time in Jalmeray, but my true love is for all things that move in a graceful and purposeful way. When I heard of the festival here, I came to enjoy the famous dancing of the Varisian people. And it was marvelous! Since the season for sailing from this land has passed, I have found employment as a morale officer of the people of Sand Point. Being that I have never succeeded in raising morale before, I was wary of the position. But the good people here seemed cheered by my dancing, and offer me free food that is not distasteful to me. If it were not for the pull of the sea, I might stay here for quite some time. Or at least until such a time as a natural disaster or war destroys the town."

A look of concern crosses the gnome’s face. She fidgets on her living seat for but a moment before returning to her meal. It has been calculated in her head that no threat was apparent and no action need be taken on her part.

The conversation round the table becomes livelier. You can’t help but notice that this gains the gnome’s attention as her eyes flash back and forth from speaker to speaker. She offers no nod of understanding, no comment to aid the conversation, only a wide eyed stare at the current speaker-proving the point that she is socially awkward.

When the glass of wine is set before her she fails to notice that it is filled higher than the others. She pulls the drink to her nose, sniffs and proceeds to swallow all the contents of the glass. Her eyes close in contentment as she feels the fire rush through her veins.

“Tha’s a rrairr faine mooshrroom!”she whispers soft and slow.

Quick as a cat you see her eyes snap open. “Tha’s wha ‘t’ ‘tis! Weh beh oferin’ o’r nahmes to echotha!”

She straightens her clothes, pulls what she can of her wild locks behind her small ears, and places her right hand just below her left shoulder with first and second fingers crossed, she begins to speak.

“Mah nahme is Zerye, ‘nd Ah loove meh knahves, meh booah, ahnd meh stahff Ah mehde wi’ me oown hahnds froom a sahplin’ treh in t’ Sahnos. Tha’s whehre Jahrrow and Ah cam’ froom to meht ta’ humahns an’ t’ ehlfes. Ah foolloweh th’ Moothair en awll har glooreh-crrehashun coombin’d.

"Ah doon’t rehght knooweh wha’s t’ dooweh herre… yoo foolk beh rehgh’ strehnge en yooweh whays.

"T’ th’ pwoint, yoo elf!” she points across the table to the one called Nuari. “Why tha’ beh a cowa’d? Yoo ‘ave t’ poweh t’ leed mehny but beh ye afrraid o’ it?”

-------------------------------
OOC: Each of Zerye's sentences is linked to an English translation if you are having a hard time understanding what she has to say.

A choking sound preceded wine flying across the table as a look of horror crossed the young elf's face.

"Coward?!?" The word came hard to Nuari's lips. Suddenly he didn't feel very well. The accusations made him feel hurt... and a little angry. He knew she had power at her disposal... but he'd seen precious little of it. Truth was, he'd had very little combat experience before Sandpoint. He had thought he'd done quite well given the circumstances. Apparently some did not.

Glancing quickly around the room he was relieved to see that Skookumchuk's impromptu dance hadn't drawn too much attention. A few curious glances at their conversation, but no overt attention. It probably helped that it took a few days to understand what the pig-riding gnome said...

"I don't... I..." he stuttered a little uncontrollably. Taking a deep breath he simply stated the facts as he knew them. "In combat you should use what you know... I know the sword and bow. That's how I choose to act."

He could feel the anger growing and could feel the shadows growing around the edges of his eyes... Through clenched teeth he fought hard to keep his voice steady... and low. "Skookumchuck hasn't used any powers at all... I don't think anyone sees him as a coward!"

Morelen saw it clearly then for the first time. She thought that she'd caught glimpses of something strange in his eyes during the few fights where the elf had resorted to spell use, and again when he spoke of Nualia earlier down in the temple to Lamashtu.

But this was no trick of the light... The white at the edges of Nuari's eyes was slowly starting to turn black!

The power of the evil heritage that he'd hinted at seemed to be tied closely to anger. If provoked, was it possible that he could just lose control of that power and lash out unintentionally? Perhaps his reluctance to use his abilities was much more than simply a precautionary measure... She could see that he was fighting for control over himself and resolved that he wouldn't have to fight alone. For all of their sakes, it might be best to help him diffuse that anger.

The sorceress slowly slid her empty bowl of stew away from her and shifted her gaze across the small, square table, from Zeyre on her left to Nuari on her right.

"Nuari, you are anything but a coward," she stated in a smooth voice that acted as a cooling, arctic breeze blowing over the slowly building inferno beside her. "None of us are. We've already proven as much through our actions since the goblin raid and in our decision to head north tomorrow morning.

"Though an unfortunate choice of words, I'm sure our companion meant only to say that she sees a great deal of untapped potential in you..."

Morelen turned more fully to the elf and gently brushed the corner of her right eye to indicate his own darkening orbs, trying to disguise it as a simple scratch.

It's okay...

Mouthing the words discreetly, she pressed her lips together in what she hoped would be a reassuring smile, and then drained the last of the wine from her glass.

Skookumchuk felt the blood rush to his face. He didn't really hear what Morelen was saying, but started talking as soon as she was done. "Um, I can't do any magic." Tears welled up in his eyes.

"I tried to do it, but I couldn't." His big glistening orbs looked up at Nuari. "Mother said that all gnomes can use magic, because we are all connected to the world we lost. But I can't. I tried once, for three days." He swallowed hard. "Gnomes who can't use magic aren't really even gnomes. They are like a beardless dwarf, or elves without pointed ears. If I had magic, I would use it all the time, just because I could."

Then his mournful expression changed to one of hope and determination. "And then I learned to dance! At first I was very clumsy, but I got better and it was like magic to me. Mother wasn't impressed, but the movement did something wonderful, it got rid of frustration and anger, and that nagging pain of disenfranchisement."

Then an idea lit up his face. "I could teach you to dance, Nuari! That is just what you need!" His face fell again, "That is, if that's what you think you need, I didn't mean to presume."

Nuari's mouth dropped open at the proposition. Him?! Dance?! Dancing was supposed to be as natural as breathing to an elf. A pure expression of the joy in your heart... There had been little music in his home, and less joy. His agility was quite admirable, and should have lent itself to dance easily... but he could never quite move right. Eventually he stopped trying.

A day of surprises to say the least. Between Morelon's subtle aid and Skookumchuk's outrageous offers, he felt a small chuckle escape his tightly pursed lips and the anger started to recede.

"No... thank you Skookumchuk. However I don't believe dancing is for me... At least not yet. Who knows what the future may bring..." Even as he said the words he didn't hold much faith that he'd feel like dancing in the future...

Embarrassed at the scene he nearly caused he nodded a quick, if strained smile of gratitude, to the sorceress beside him for helping to defuse the situation... before he lost control again.... With that thought, he quickly took another drink of the old wine. It actually was quite decent as far as wines went... and he regretted the bit he'd spit in surprise.

Terrible waste.