Tears of Mirrormere RPG - The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum

Thinlómien · 06-07-2009, 04:28 PM

Vigdis

The roof was just as dark as her dreams had been. She got up slowly. A headache was thundering against her skull. Was it the rum? she wondered. But she had drunk so much more so many time with so much less headache... it had to be something else. It had to be... no, not that thought again. Soon, when she'd have the stone in her hands. But not now. She made her way to the table carefully and lit the candle. She changed her clothes, picked up her favourite tools, extinguished the flame and went out.

The corridor was just as dark as her room had been before she had lit the candle. She wondered why the lanterns weren't lit. She knew her way to the masonry well enough in the dark, but some passers-by would have problems.

"Ouch!" said a voice.

Vigdis stopped. She had run to somebody in the dark. "Who is it? Can I help you?" she asked.

~*~

Ori

He stood there, among the common fighters. Some of the younger ones were giving him curious glances, but most of his comrades in arms welcomed him in silent approving nods. In Balin's time, he had either stayed away from the battles or stood closely by the Lord as his friend and companion. Now it was different, the battles were on their doorstep, there was no "away" to hide in, and Balin was dead, and despite their friendship, Ori was not the companion to Trór like he had been to Balin. He felt his place was where were the others like him: the artesans and sages who had managed to gather a little knowledge of the arts of war during their years.

"Move a bit to the left," growled old Brambor, the commander of ori's regiment. They obeyed him in silence. The words of Trór rang in Ori's mind: we will accept nothing less than full victory! May Balin look upon us and bless our noble undertaking. Let his name be our battle cry! "Balin," he whispered, thinking what his old friend would have thought of such hot-headed and pompous speech. He smiled wryly. "Poor old Balin." The soldier standing beside him heard him mutter the name and shouted it out loud: "Balin!" Soon his voice was echoed by a dozen others, then hundreds of voices shouted the battle cry. "Balin! Balin! Balin!" They watched the black hordes of goblins roll forwards but fear was no more.

06-07-2009, 04:28 PM	#11
Thinlómien Shady She-Penguin Join Date: Dec 2004 Location: In a far land beyond the Sea Posts: 8,093	Vigdis The roof was just as dark as her dreams had been. She got up slowly. A headache was thundering against her skull. Was it the rum? she wondered. But she had drunk so much more so many time with so much less headache... it had to be something else. It had to be... no, not that thought again. Soon, when she'd have the stone in her hands. But not now. She made her way to the table carefully and lit the candle. She changed her clothes, picked up her favourite tools, extinguished the flame and went out. The corridor was just as dark as her room had been before she had lit the candle. She wondered why the lanterns weren't lit. She knew her way to the masonry well enough in the dark, but some passers-by would have problems. "Ouch!" said a voice. Vigdis stopped. She had run to somebody in the dark. "Who is it? Can I help you?" she asked. ~~ Ori* He stood there, among the common fighters. Some of the younger ones were giving him curious glances, but most of his comrades in arms welcomed him in silent approving nods. In Balin's time, he had either stayed away from the battles or stood closely by the Lord as his friend and companion. Now it was different, the battles were on their doorstep, there was no "away" to hide in, and Balin was dead, and despite their friendship, Ori was not the companion to Trór like he had been to Balin. He felt his place was where were the others like him: the artesans and sages who had managed to gather a little knowledge of the arts of war during their years. "Move a bit to the left," growled old Brambor, the commander of ori's regiment. They obeyed him in silence. The words of Trór rang in Ori's mind: we will accept nothing less than full victory! May Balin look upon us and bless our noble undertaking. Let his name be our battle cry! "Balin," he whispered, thinking what his old friend would have thought of such hot-headed and pompous speech. He smiled wryly. "Poor old Balin." The soldier standing beside him heard him mutter the name and shouted it out loud: "Balin!" Soon his voice was echoed by a dozen others, then hundreds of voices shouted the battle cry. "Balin! Balin! Balin!" They watched the black hordes of goblins roll forwards but fear was no more.