"No need to be calling me 'sir' Chell; we're family...even if only by our common father."
"Speaking of which, how well do you know father? Has he been treating you good? Or perhaps you consider dear old Mortus more as a father?"
He wondered if Abbey had ever raised a child responsibly...probably brought her gifts and left her to fend for herself...
She freezes briefly, her composure very briefly shattered, but recovers quickly.
"Mortus is my father. Fate has liberated me from the circumstance of my birth. I mean ya no offense sir, but I would rather not dwell on the circumstances of our kinship."She begins to climb the mast of her ship, perhaps to get further from you, or perhaps to perform some minor adjustment on the sail.
"If you are truly as wise as they, my not wanting to answer should be answer enough." The girl calls down.
"Could you get the blood from a corpse? What powers did your sire grant you? I know little of you and your fellows and the birds tell me secrets but few."
"No." The priest replies,
"the causing of harm is as important as the physical drinking of blood. It has to become weaker for me grow stronger, and you can't get any weaker than dead. In theory I could drink a bit, but stop before I kill, but my instincts are too strong to suppress while I'm actually drinking."He leans on his walking stick, and pauses briefly before continuing.
"As for the powers my condition grants me, I can step between shadows as a mortal would stones in a stream. I can weave glammors and other illusions to befuddle lesser minds. I can even take an animal form, but the one my sire blessed me with is not one I'd assume lightly in your presence... Use of these powers makes my thirst even harder to resist. There are other powers too, but they would require my complete and utter surrender to my unnatural nature, and if I did that, I would be unable to serve you or any of the gods I love.""Oinkiny? I've a few questions for you. Where do you get your food, does Corusu eat, how often does my sister bother you about messes, and do you have any insights into our current situation?"
The obese barbarian beast is found lounging on a great sofa in a room off to the side of the kitchen. He nods his head as you approach, in what perhaps would have been a bow if Oinkiny was standing.
"Not even a "'ello to you"?" The chef complains, before grumbling a few seconds and getting to your questions.
"They gave me back my ability to materialize things, well sort of, I can only do non-living organic matter. If you bring me sometin, I'll cook it though. I did a few feasts with your father, who has better manners than you by the way, and used to enjoy a mortal or two myself back in the day."He scratches his nose.
"Eating and shitting are about the only two things that dragon does 'round here. That and something about preventing the islands from being defiled... As for the girl, she cleans my chair when I am cooking, and cleans my kitchen when I am sitting, so we have no quarrel."The pig pauses for a second in thought when asked about the situation, before answering, but not in the way you would expect.
"The Orcs are very tough... have ta marinate em and slow roast em. Harpies taste like something between poultry and Bellian, kinda like you'd expect - boney and hard to catch though, not worth the effort unless you can sneak up on a bunch of them. That said, if you can catch a nursing nest matron... well lets just say Harpy Chick boiled in Harpy Milk is one of my new favorite foods."After making sure that Pyrite had left, and no-one else was trying to interrupt his current venture, Auratus faced towards the storm dragon. Before talking, he even bowed in front of the beast which dwarved him not only in size, but also in might and experience. Needless to say, it was more of a slight bow, but still far lower than he would ever would in front of a god.
" Greetings, my kin. If we had known in advance that I would find you here, I am sure that my mother would have had a message that I would deliver in her stead, but I hope that you are fond of our meeting none the less. Mind you, obviously not fond of the circumstances - the gods prove themself every bit as cruel as I would have heard. "
The - at least in comparison undoubtedly - youngling shook his head, as if to dissipate a thought.
" No, let us not speak of bitter things - unless you wish to do so - but rather about those things that may delight us. From what I heard, we have some common ancestry, though the finer details currently elude me - as mentioned, we did not foresee this encounter. "
At that point the golden dragon held back, gauging the other for his reaction. Albeit he had taken it as a joke before, there was no telling how his elder would react. He did not really expect to suddenly recieve the same treatment like the gods did, but the previous silence, while better than being insulted, might not only be out of sympathy.
The Storm Dragon looks slowly into your eyes with a piercing gaze and a deep frown. He remains silent for another good half minute. Then inhales. Then speaks.
"I fear speaking of Joyous things is beyond my ability. My tongue is as bound as the rest of my body. I am forbidden from divulging the secrets and history of our blood, conspiring for my freedom, or plotting revenge. And if you are anything like your mother, any other topic will be trivial and not worth your time." With a sigh, Corusu closes his eyes and speaks again, but this time in his true voice. The Draconic language is one of your species many sources of pride; It is spoken and perceived as much with the soul as it is with the senses, and as such direct translations into other tongues are nearly impossible. The spiritual nature of the tongue means that no two speakers speak it in the same way.
The Storm dragon's voice and diction are entirely different from your mother's, they are the sounds of a creature wild, fearless, and unrestrained. The sort of creature to whom life is a game and the world is but a plaything. Corusu's words, however, are nearly the opposite of his dialect; Instead of concrete ideas, his nearly minute long monologue merely expresses emotions. Two of them. More clear and intense than you have ever witnessed them expressed before: Despair and Hatred.
The effect is awesome. You mother explained that hearing a dragon speak fluently with its true voice for the first time was always and inspiring experience; She also discouraged you from speaking the language yourself, for without other native speakers as examples and influences, she feared your Draconic would turn out to be a cheap mockery of her own.
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Topic: Isle of the Young Gods: Game Thread (Read 52537 times)