Re: Anauroch: The Black Scorpions
Tuar rides for the rest of the day, next to Lysande and her horse, and Dom manages to keep the pace steady with the horses, little wonder from a bird of such great size. When Glim motions for everyone to stop and set up camp, Tuar merely jumps off the giant bird and puts his pack on the ground. The half-elf savage seems happy to be rid of the burden, and gladly removes the chain shirt and places it with his other things. Finally, he removes his rope belt, placing his dagger and bow with the rest of his gear. He walks out into the night with only the golden bracelets, the pin stabbed deep into his chest, and his sword. The brilliant silver of the tattoo on his back shines in the moonlight.
As Tuar feels he is far enough away, barely within sight of the rest of the group, he unleashes his emotions. As taught to him by the drow priestesses, he let out the thoughts he could not express in words reach out to his goddess in dance. At first, it starts slowly, the half-blood merely twisting his body to an inner music. Then his arms and hands join the motions of his body, coming in front of his chest and flowing together in the silvery light of Selune. Before long, his feet have joined the unheard music in a dance that spans several meters. Unlike what might be expected from a savage, there are no grunts of approval or stomping sounds to join his dance, but it is light, almost as if he were floating above the sands. He appears more elven in the light of the moon than he does in the hard, burning sun of the day.
After almost ten minutes of the dance, the lightness of his feet, the worries and cares of his body drifting away to his goddess, he stopped for a few seconds. The sweat on his body was already glistening, and he took a few deep breaths before looking back at the camp and then at the only thing he brought with him, his father's sword. As he thought, Tuar realized that this sword should share in his problems. It, too, was part of his family, and it should be given some time to speak up to his goddess, if it would prefer. Tuar bent down in the few seconds between the dance, and lifted his father's sword up to the Maiden of the Moon, Eilistraee herself. The gesture was clear, he was offering the sword and his ability to wield it to her cause. A few seconds of silence, and Tuar once again continued his intricate dance, weaving the sword through the air as if fighting invisible foes. Instead of his normal technique, which usually consisted of slashing at the nearest foe with an entire lack of any finesse, the half-bred elf dodged and ducked with his sword in hand, as if he were a swordsman from the ancient elven legends.
Dance: 21
This message was last edited by the player at 00:59, Sun 13 Aug 2006.