STAR TREK 2d20
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  1. #201
    Thank you for the session notes, Poppyseed

    Running: The One Ring and GUMSHOE--Esoterrorists (on hold); intermittently Fiasco and DramaSystem/Hillfolk
    Want to play: Pendragon, City of Mist, Dresden Files RPG, Orpheus, Changeling, Apocalpse World and more PbtA, Bluebeards Bride, Shadows of Esteren; anything by Bully Pulpit Games

  2. #202
    Draigoch and Leaf Sole arrived ahead of the rest of the band of Beornings, with only a few groups of spearmen and axemen. They immediately got to work to plan their approach of the field, stationing some men in the forest to dissuade an ambush and a scout up ahead to watch for signs of the Viglundings.

    Nemir, Beli, and Beldan noticed Achernar talking once more with Aesid, daughter of Viglund. She appeared to be interested in Achernar, more so than she was to her own betrothed, who she managed to send away without him being any the wiser. Quietly chafing against the situation she was in, Aesid seemed to be encouraging his interaction with her. Looking at it, Nemir saw an opportunity to change the way the Viglundings worked from the inside. It would take longer and perhaps it was a plan that wouldn't even work, but if the dwarves and elves were so determined not to fight the Viglundings, perhaps all opportunity was not lost.

    On the road, Nemir thought back to her last meeting with Nimrodel, who had explained in no uncertain terms how the elven court back in Mirkwood would react to her costing them the position they had before once news of how the negotiations had gone got out in rumours and whispers. Fear flickered in Nemir's heart. It would cost her and her family some of their reputation at court. Reputation that Nemir hadn't even begun to build herself. "So what? You're going to shun me for being in the wrong place at the wrong time?" she cried as tears stung at her eyes. Nimrodel told her that it was the truth of what was going to happen because of her part, no matter how unwilling, but her tone seemed to be that of a teacher telling her how the world worked. In some ways, it reminded her of her father's teachings but Nimrodel didn't soften her words to comfort her like her father did. She only told the cold truth. Nemir looked down, with her cheeks growing red from shame as she willed herself not to cry. Not here. Not even anywhere else in Viglunding's hall but especially not in front of Nimrodel. Nemir nodded. "I'll make a note of that." Nimrodel's gaze seemed to soften as Nemir said that, and she touched Nemir's hand and told her that she would be okay. Looking at Nimrodel again, Nemir understood a little more. She still didn't agree with dealing with the Viglundings but that wasn't a fight she could win. Not yet.

    The dwarves'd had similar conversations with their diplomats. Soon enough, they reached the parlay grounds, with a table set up for diplomatic discussions to ensue and places for the elven and dwarven diplomats to mediate and watch the preceedings. There was argument, shouting, and conversation back and forth. Draigoch and Leaf Sole lay concealed in the trees, ready to strike if things came to battle and Leaf Sole noticed Viglundings moving to take postition in the trees. He prepared his men to move the minute the Viglunding spearmen moved. Draigoch and his men started a chant for Beran and Garsendis rushed to the table, asking about him.

    Tensions grew and Beli, Beldan, and Nemir began to look for a way off the potential battlefield and as the battle begun, Nemir slipped away with Achernar unseen. Beli dashed off, with Beldan following but got cut off a little by some people's movement. They headed towards the wagon that held their weapons far back behind the Viglunding's ranks. The Viglunding spearmen in the forest moved in an attempt to ambush the Beornings but were ambushed themselves by Leaf Sole and his men. Leaf Sole moved his men behind the Viglundings as the Viglundings created a wall between the Beornings and Viglund, who was retreating off the battlefield. Nemir, Beli, Beldan, and Achernar reach the camp where their weapons were and got to retrieve them. Leaf Sole and his men cut off the retreat by siezing control of the choke point off the battlefield and the battle turns very lethal to the remaining Viglundings. Axes and hatchets fall and fly and the remaining Viglundings that got cut off were killed. Draigoch faced the one who struck down Euric and he fell under Draigoch's axe.

    Nemir, Beli, and Beldan protected the Viglunding servants from being harrassed from Beorning warriors and returned to find Leaf Sole and Draigoch, seeing the massacre on the battle before them. Nemir was horrified by the utter mess of bloody bodies and gore left behind even though most of the casulties were Viglunding. The tales never told of this. In all of the battles of glory from the past, they never said how horrifying it could be to see the battlefield of fallen foes when all was said and done. Just like Lady Nimrodel's words, she knew this image would stick with her as she headed back home.

  3. #203
    This fellowship phase is going to be quite important for Nemir's growth as a character after such an intense journey she found herself caught up in with the Viglundings so I'm going to be adding multiple snippets and scenes of what she does during the winter fellowship phase and her thoughts on what she's been through and what's to come because she has a lot to sort through and a strong drive to act after what she's been through, especially from the realisation of what matters to her as she was preparing to fight with the Viglundings, and what she learned from her encounter with Lady Nimrodel. So, to start off, we have the beginning of Nemir's return journey.

    Saying goodbye to her companions until they met again, Nemir headed into Mirkwood, weary and homesick from the ordeal that began as just another adventure but the words of Lady Nimrodel rang again in her head. Already, she was beginning to dread having to deal with the elven court. If everything that Lady Nimrodel predicted rang true, she was in for some harsh judgement but, even worse, so was her family. Nemir’s heart and stomach twisted at that idea. Herself, she could deal with or, if she couldn’t, she had other options – she could hide away in Dale or Laketown – but her family had built their entire lives here. They’d settled. Itholdiel was even betrothed to another Lord’s son. At the thought of her sister, Nemir sighed. It seemed clear that Itholdiel was everything her parents wanted Nemir to be too – the ideal daughter – but after this, Nemir felt like the disgrace of the family. She tried, she really did. She’d worked hard at her studies to become a scholar like her father, she’d learnt how to curtsey, how to properly greet someone, she’d learnt how to gain attention and how to slip away unnoticed. But still, it wasn’t enough. Her heart pulled at her to see the world beyond the forest borders, but her parents wanted her to settle, to give up her friends – almost her second family – and live a peaceful life. No doubt, this incident wouldn’t help with her argument.

    Wrong place at the wrong time. Nemir scoffed. That was the only thing she had been guilty of but it wasn’t as if Nemir could deny the effects that it’d had – even if dealing with Viglundings was foul as a concept, the court wouldn’t see it that way. Nemir kicked a loose lump of dirt as she walked down the path. Her mood had somehow worsened since she’d said goodbye to her friends. Perhaps it would be okay to delay her journey for the afternoon. Nemir took a deep breath and navigated her way to a stream, where she sat amongst the grass and scattered wildflowers. Staring into the stream at her reflection, she let her hair down and it tumbled far past her shoulders in copper waves. Nemir stared at it for a while. She imagined taking her dagger to it all and cutting it short but soon realised it would be another thing to explain to her family and that would be more trouble than it was worth. One thing at a time. Instead, Nemir took some time to add braids to her hair and tie it back up. Might as well look presentable. A wry smile played on her lips from that thought – who, exactly, was going to see her? She still had a while to go before she reached the nearest settlement, and even longer before she reached somewhere she’d be easily recognised. Still, Nemir tied it up and brushed loose strands aside anyway and looked again at the reflection. The face staring back at her looked so drained. Even as ‘guests’ of the Viglundings, Nemir had still been uneasy trying to sleep or even slip into a restful state and that had taken its toll. Not to mention the dangers and horrors they’d faced. But would the court care about that side of the story? No. They would likely only see what it cost them. Nemir picked herself up and began to follow the stream deeper into Mirkwood, towards her home.

    She had to make this right.

    A little for herself maybe, but mostly for her family. Nemir paused in her tracks as she considered how her parents would react, her gut twisting when she imagined it. Would they be angry? She’d done nothing wrong. Disappointed, then? Would that be better or worse? Her footsteps fell heavier as she continued on, lost in thought. Even though the idea of telling them terrified her, the thought of returning to those angry or disappointed stares was even worse. She couldn’t bear it. If she told them herself, she could tell the whole story – she could put it into her own words and soften the blow. Nemir’s paces grew faster and faster. It needed to be her that told them. Not whispers flying around the court. Not some other noble asking whether what they heard was the truth about their wayward daughter. It needed to be her. Nemir silently begged the fates to let her have this one thing – to let her break the news instead of the elven court, who didn’t – and couldn’t – know the entire story.

    Nemir’s foot caught on a branch and her speed sent her plummeting to the ground. She groaned in pain as she got back up and brushed the dirt off her, glaring back at that tree branch with annoyance. If that was the fates’ idea of an answer, it was a terrible one.
    Last edited by Poppyseed; July 6th, 2020 at 23:57.

  4. #204
    Thanks for the session summary, Poppyseed. Really compelling story material. We’ve weaved quite a tale.

    And I enjoy and appreciate the window into Nemir’s thoughts. She is thinking through some of the many ripples of the stone (boulder?) that just hit the water and it makes strong dramatic material. I can’t wait to find out what Nemir will do next!

  5. #205
    I'll be posting this scene in two sections since it's too long to post all as one - apologies if any of it sounds a little disjointed, I've been working on it for a while and there have been a few longish breaks inbetween a couple of parts.

    The whispers had already begun. Not fully, not yet, but there were some that had heard; Nemir could see it in their eyes. She tried to ignore them as she navigated the cold, snowy halls but a pit swirled in her chest as her thoughts spiralled, overthinking every little glance. One, two, three, four. Nemir focussed on her footsteps as they hit the floor. Each one brought her closer to home. One-two-three-four, one-two-three-four, one-two-. Nemir came to a dead halt as she looked up. There it was – her home. The familiarity was like a punch to the gut; it hadn’t changed a bit.

    Cevendir was waiting just outside the front door, waiting for her.

    His eyebrows were knitted and drawn upwards – a picture of worry – but he tried to give her a small smile as he saw her. Nemir willed her feet to move. When she reached him, Cevendir placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I’m glad to see you’re back safe. Are you hurt?” Cevendir gave her arms a cursory glance, looking for injuries while Nemir shook her head. All she had were scrapes and bruises.

    “Just exhausted. It’s been a long journey.” Nemir hesitated and shifted her weight several times from foot to foot. Eventually, she met Cevendir’s eyes. “Have you… heard?”

    “About the rumours? You’re better than me at finding trouble, I’ll grant you that.” He crossed his arms and tried to play it off light-heartedly but the performance was half-hearted at best. Cevendir’s smile faltered and he sighed. “Mother and Father are waiting for you inside – I just thought I’d give you a little warning.” He gave her arm a squeeze. “Promise you’ll find me later?” Nemir nodded quickly – the dread was already building inside her. She watched as Cevendir left, waiting until he was gone from sight to delay turning back to the door for as long as she could but as soon as he was gone, she had no other excuse for standing around. Nemir took a deep, unsteady breath, turned the doorknob, and headed inside.
    Last edited by Poppyseed; July 28th, 2020 at 10:12.

  6. #206
    As soon as she stepped inside, Nemir was ushered to her father’s office. Muffled conversation was happening behind it that sounded like an argument but Nemir only caught a few sounds and words at the tail-end of it. “--n’t----r---child!" The voices stopped as soon as the servant accompanying her knocked on the door. Her father sat at his desk, which was piled high with stacks of books and papers, looking like he had been writing a letter. Several, if the envelopes to the side were any indication. Her mother stood beside him, with a disapproving glare now levelled at Nemir. It was too close to how Nimrodel had looked at her – Nemir shrank under the weight of it.

    Waving the servant away, her father put his papers and pen aside. Her mother left with them. Subconsciously, Nemir began to pick at the ends of her fingers – lectures from her father were rarer and she couldn’t quite tell how this one was going to go. There was only a pressing sense that she wouldn’t like it. He stood, never slouching or hunching over and levelled his gaze at her.

    “Sit down, Nemir.” His tone was unreadable. She wasn’t sure if it was calm or just restrained. She wordlessly did as she was told, bringing a chair from the side of the room closer to the desk. The silence between them lingered like a thick fog. Nemir swallowed the lump in her throat and looked up.
    Her father began to speak. “When you said you wanted to see more of the world, I allowed it, despite the fact that you are still so young. I thought it would be beneficial for you to gain some experience with what lies beyond our borders.” He began to pace slowly along the bookshelves that lined most of the back wall. “You were not satisfied with simply the stories. It was understandable – you are young. You wish to see things for yourself.”

    Nemir shifted in her seat. She wanted to tell him that it was more than that but the tone that seemed more restrained than calm told her to keep quiet. Her father continued to speak. “When you refused to apprentice yourself to the master scholar that Lady Celemirel had arranged for you to meet, I allowed it even then. It was troublesome to explain to the scholar that you would not be visiting but ultimately, I was able to smooth everything over.” Her father finally came to a stop in front of the window in the centre of the back wall. “You were given freedom, Nemir. More so than that of your siblings.” He turned to face her. Nemir was somewhat taken aback by the anger now visible in his features even though she’d heard the tension in his voice slowly rising. “So tell me why, now, I am hearing of your interference of an important diplomatic negotiation to the west?”

    There it was. Nemir had guessed it was coming but the wording riled her. Interference? That made it sound like she’d had a choice. Was that what the court was saying? “I didn’t mean to-”

    “Whether you meant to or not, you caused a costly setback.” He cut her off coldly.

    Nemir shot to her feet, with both hands pressed onto the desk. “We were ambushed!” she exclaimed. A moment of silence passed - perhaps out of surprise – and Nemir saw an opportunity to carry on. “We were outnumbered ten to one and already in terrible shape. The Viglundings wouldn’t let us leave and we couldn’t fight them, not really. Then they dragged us to Viglund’s hall as prisoners and told lies about us, what were we meant to do?” Nemir’s voice grew tight and she spread her arms out desperately as if she could emphasise the pure hopelessness of the situation they’d found themselves in. She opened her mouth again to talk but no words came to the surface. She needed something – anything – to make him understand. Her father sighed. There was annoyance there – perhaps from being interrupted like she had – but Nemir waited for him to speak.

    “And there was no opportunity to escape?” He asked. Nemir hesitated. There had been, a voice whispered in her mind as she drifted back to the memory of the battle. She lowered her gaze to the desk with her shoulders suddenly feeling very heavy.

    “No.”

    More silence. Did he believe her? Nemir rose her head to risk a glance but was met with a neutral expression before her father turned to half-face the window again.
    “Very well, but that still holds the question of why you were in Viglunding lands in the first place.” His voice was no kinder than before, just frustrated. “You wander far, Nemir. The last I had heard from you, you were heading to Dale.”

    Nemir didn’t know how to reply. Somehow, she didn’t think mentioning Beldan’s job from Erabor would help the situation but talking about Beran’s request for help might work. She didn’t get the chance to answer because her father continued on after a couple of moments.

    “Your adventures are only bringing us trouble and I cannot keep track of where your next incident might come from next, or from whom.” Her father put his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “I should have known better than to think you wouldn’t gain an affinity for it – it’s in your blood.” Although the words were directed at her, the last sentence sounded more like he was talking to himself. Nemir was taken so off-guard that she couldn’t even process an argument. It was as if all words had been stolen from her. It’s in her blood? What did that mean? An eternity passed – or perhaps just a few seconds – before she managed to find her voice again.

    “What?” Her voice came out quiet and distant. Her father looked at her again but she couldn’t read his expression. Nemir slowly built up the confidence to press the question. “What do you mean by that? What do you mean ‘it’s in my blood’?”

    Her father’s sigh held exasperation and frustration. “That does not matter. These adventures must stop.” His hands rested behind his back and the stony expression on his face told her not to argue.

    Nemir’s couldn’t help but stare. She forced back the tears that threatened to form in her stinging eyes as she imagined not being able to see her friends again. Wasn’t this what she’d fought to prevent back in the Viglunding ambush? Wasn’t this why she’d surrendered – to make sure they would survive? “But…” She started to speak but another voice also spoke inside her mind. Liar. Coward. You were ready to flee. You would’ve abandoned them to their fates.

    “With the trouble this has caused, another incident could hurt us. Another adventure of yours ending up like this one has could damage our reputation.” Her father continued. It barely brought her back to reality.

    “I’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again. Please…” Nemir pleaded desperately as she tried to quieten the part of her that told her she deserved this.
    “There are already whispers and rumours spreading about you – none of them are complimentary. At best, you are seen as reckless or foolish-” Her father’s voice was rising in tension and sternness but Nemir couldn’t back down from this.

    “Please, I promise, I have plans to make this better – I can make this better!” Nemir clutched the fabric around her chest tightly as she looked for a reaction but it wasn’t enough to tell what her father was thinking. She let her hand support her weight on the desk again and her head dropped. Her voice was small as she added, “My friends – they mean the world to me. I can’t give them up.”

    A moment passed. Her father’s voice was softer as he spoke again. “They are only mortal, Nemir.”

    She couldn’t give that an answer.

    Instead, Nemir began to talk about her plan. Bit by bit, her thoughts unravelled into a story of what she would do or could do and her father walked to his desk and sat in his chair as she talked. Nemir hoped it was enough. To call it a proper ‘plan’ was perhaps an exaggeration – as it was, it had holes and so many threads that didn’t tie back to Mirkwood but it was all she had.

    Silence.

    Nemir stood there with her head still hung. Her limbs and head felt heavy and for a moment, all she wanted to do was lie down in the comfort of her own bed. To not have the prospect of seeing her friends and the world beyond Mirkwood be slipping away from her. Another incident like this and it might be gone for good. Eventually, she took a glance up – he seemed to actually be considering it. Or considering something at least.

    “I will consider what you have said here but until I give my decision, you are to stay at home or be accompanied by someone. You are not to go out alone, do you understand me?”

    Nemir nodded, trying not to feel let down. It was less than she’d hoped for but that seemed to be the theme of her encounters lately. At least freedom wasn’t wholly out of her grasp.

  7. #207
    This reads like a novel. Well done, indeed. And I follow it: Nemir has absorbed all the layered complexities of what she encountered, and it’s tugged and pulled her in contradictory directions. Thanks for giving us a peak inside her heart and mind as she struggles through it all.

    Running: The One Ring and GUMSHOE--Esoterrorists (on hold); intermittently Fiasco and DramaSystem/Hillfolk
    Want to play: Pendragon, City of Mist, Dresden Files RPG, Orpheus, Changeling, Apocalpse World and more PbtA, Bluebeards Bride, Shadows of Esteren; anything by Bully Pulpit Games

  8. #208
    Nemir’s door lay open as she sat on her windowsill and watched the snow fall through the trees. From right where she was, she could hear when the front door opened and closed as long as her door was still open; so she listened to the quiet. Light footsteps travelled up and down the hallways. Faint murmurs of far-off or quiet conversation reached her ears, even if she couldn’t pick out any distinct words from it.

    Nemir had always trusted her ears over her eyes. It had been spring when Cevendir had dragged Nemir out on a hunting trip insisting that she wouldn’t really know how to use a bow until she’d used it to hit something other than a target in the training grounds. When he’d tracked a couple of rabbits, he brought Nemir to a vantage point and told her to shoot. She’d missed. Eventually though, she’d learned to listen for the rustles and small movements and although she still wasn’t a great huntress, her bow skills had kept her and her party safe multiple times.

    Still, her bow skills weren’t enough to fight with if she was outnumbered. The fight that they’d had before taking the forest path had proven that. Leaf Sole’d had to protect her, Beli had gone down. She hadn’t even landed one hit. In close quarters, she was utterly useless. She hugged her knees to her chest and turned the strange runestone she’d carried for a year now over in her hand absently. The sound of the front door closing interrupted her thoughts – Cevendir was back.

    Nemir grabbed her bag and weapons and went to find him.

    They set off through the forest until they reached a small clearing by a stream. A perfect place to practice swordfighting. On the way, she’d enlisted his help, knowing that he was the better of the two when it came to swords under the promise that she’d talk about her adventures after they duelled.

    “Ready?” Cevendir asked with a grin. He drew a battle stance and Nemir nodded and did the same. As ready as she would ever be. Cevendir lunged first and within a minute, Nemir’s weapon had fallen out of her hand. He gestured towards it and Nemir swallowed her pride and picked it back up. This was going to be a long couple of hours.

    This time, Nemir struck first but it wasn’t long before she was knocked to the floor. Cevendir pointed his sword to her and laughed. “You’re going to have to try harder than that.”

    The duelling went on like that for a couple of hours until Nemir finally gave up. Her limbs were aching at that point and she hadn’t had much luck. What was worse was that the more irritated she got, the more blows simply hit thin air, only making her even more frustrated. She let out a sigh. It formed a cloud of white in the air.

    “You actually weren’t doing so badly – you definitely made progress during the fight,” Cevendir said as he climbed into a tree, making it look seamless and offered a hand out to her. “Now, last summer, you said you would come back with more stories and it certainly seems as if you have a story to tell, so out with it,” he said as she took his hand, scampered onto the branch and steadied herself. Cevendir sat and leaned against the trunk of the tree.

    Nemir sat down too, preparing to begin her story. “Well we actually went on two journeys. In the first one, we found an ice-cave that might have been the tomb of one of the forest-folk that some old Quenyan scrolls Saxulf had found talked about. We translated them over our journey there-” Nemir cut herself off and rooted in her pack for her journal. “Look,” she said as she opened it to her translations and offered it to Cevendir. Cevendir took it with curiosity but with less interest she thought the translations deserved.

    “Who’s Saxulf?” Cevendir asked as he scanned the notes.

    “Oh,” Nemir self-consciously chuckled, “he’s from Dale and he was one of the people journeying with us – I met him not long before we set off.” She smiled at the memory and at the memory of the first few nights, where she spent her time translating the old texts.

    Cevendir raised his eyebrow at her. “What did he look like?”

    “None of your business.” Nemir leant forward and pulled her journal out of his hands as Cevendir laughed. He crossed his arms.

    “That pretty huh?” he teased “I think I’d like to meet him.” He leant forward and raised his eyebrows suggestively and Nemir couldn't help but laugh.

    “Father would kill you,” Nemir said, shaking her head as she put her journal away.

    “Not if he didn’t know,” Cevendir retorted with a mischievous grin. He leant back against the trunk of the tree and gestured loosely as he said, “But carry on.”
    Nemir shook her head with a smile and wove the story of how they found the cave and the tomb that was full of treasure and giant statues of ice, then finding the coffin and opening it. The incredulous expression Cevendir was giving her throughout it all morphed into pure horror and disbelief as Nemir explained, “Unfortunately, by opening it, I think I woke up the dead lady.”

    “You…. woke up the-”

    “And the ice statues.” Nemir added. She bit the inside of her cheek. “I’ll admit, it was a bad move on my part.”

    Cevendir ran a hand through his hair with wide eyes, visibly trying to process what she’d just told him. He laughed. “When I said you were better than me at finding trouble, I will admit, this is not what I pictured. What happened?”

    “We tried to fight them but it wasn’t working very well so we had to run. Achernar got charmed and thought she was the love of his life for a bit though, no matter how hard he tries to deny it happened,” Nemir lingered for a bit on the lighter tone before she continued. “I’d assume they’re still in the tomb, where we left them. After we got out, we… Well, we found the people we were travelling with had been attacked, one of the dwarves had been killed and Saxulf was incredibly close to death.” Nemir’s voice grew quieter as her stomach tightened. Their encounter in the tomb hadn’t been a victory but they still all got out alive and that was victory enough but it had been soured by the destruction their camp had faced in their absence. She curled her knees to her chest and rested her head on them. Cevendir’s posture shifted softly as he watched her. “We treated him as best we could on the road and decided we had to go back to Dale instead of continue our journey but there was still a night where we almost lost him. He got feverish. There was nothing I could do other than rely on Achernar to help heal him. None of us were sure whether he would survive the night.”

    Cevendir placed a hand on her arm. Nemir gave a small, quick smile but shifted into and even tighter ball as Beli’s more recent scrape with death forced its way into her mind. She tried to push it away and continue with her story but it lingered in her mind as she carried on. “I think that was the first time someone I knew and liked was that close to death. We’d been in dangerous situations, obviously, but even as we ran for our lives out of the tomb, none of us got wounded as badly as Saxulf had been. It wasn’t the last, either.” Nemir bit the inside of her cheek again. “He wasn’t conscious for most of our journey back, or the week we stayed in Dale to recover.” She swung her legs over the side of the branch in one swift movement and let them hang lifelessly in the air. “After staying here for a bit, I was going to visit him again. I might still just go, no matter what Father decides.”

    “Don’t, it’ll only make this worse for you.” Cevendir’s tone held caution buried amongst the worry and he reached forward to grab her arm. Nemir glared at the ground below her silently. “Wait until you’re allowed to go – Father won’t make you stay forever. Or at least weave a plausible cover story before you do. I can help you with it, just don’t disappear off into the night.”

    A moment of silence passed and Nemir sighed, then nodded and pushed herself off the branch. Snow crunched as she landed and pulled her bag down. Cevendir followed suit. The sun was setting and the sky was getting dark – they needed to start heading back. Cevendir prompted her for more of the story as they began to walk and ended up leading her a much longer route home so she could finish telling the story of the second journey. Even though it brought up experiences not yet healed from, Nemir found a small amount of comfort from telling him about it. She realised was slowly beginning to tell her own story.

  9. #209
    Nemir is very reflective and growing in wisdom. Enjoyable read once again.

    PS It’s fun to see all these adventures chronicled in one place!

  10. #210
    After a month spent in Mirkwood, Nemir set off to Dale, accompanied by her father’s assistant: Orelon. It had been one of the conditions her father had set out for her and Nemir had readily agreed to it, longing to not lose the freedom she’d found in adventure. Still, she hadn’t quite settled her mind from her troubling experiences like she’d hoped she would by spending time amongst her family. Perhaps it was the bleak atmosphere of winter, the snowstorms that had been building up recently, or perhaps it was the fact that a reminder of her last adventure followed her home, but her worries didn’t ease. Instead, over her time there, she’d grown more confident with the sword and slowly learned how to create elf lights – another fragment of elven magic.

    In Dale, Nemir and Orelon stayed in an inn close to the castle, and Nemir would often visit the Queen and talk with her. It seemed the sense of companionship they shared from the previous autumn had not been forgotten and a friendship grew. After these visits became routine, Orelon stopped accompanying her with as much frequency to the castle, preferring instead to spend time on the scrolls and books he had brought with him, as long as Nemir let him know when she was going. Nemir had no such luck with trying to convince Orelon to do the same with her visits to Saxulf. Nevertheless, she was glad to see Saxulf recovering and looking far further from death than he had been before. Nemir received the title of Thegn from the king, using her reputation and favour granted to her during the past autumn and cut her hair short into a bob on a cold, winter’s night when the snowstorm raged the hardest. It was sometime after that Nemir learned Galford had been attacked during that snowstorm, with rumours from some of the refugees of ice giants and a wraith amongst the orcs and goblins. A tale that sounded all too similar to something Nemir had encountered before…
    Last edited by Poppyseed; August 1st, 2020 at 20:35.

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