Tally ho!

In medias res.

Linolil left her home fuming. If she had been a dwarf she would have noted a serious grudge, if she had been a human...

'No, that won't do,' she corrected herself. She didn't know that many dwarves, and dwarves lore was tricky to get even by those liked by those bearded volcanoes, but she was pretty sure that dwarves weren't allowed to hold grudges against their parent. Or it just wasn't done, or such thing. Humans were easy to understand in comparison. Yet they too remained an enigma to her. Ten years was just enough to understand that they grew old with frightening speed, some of them had even died! It was so frustrating, her parent didn't tell her anything, and they had forbidden her to speak to humans unless it was strictly necessary.

She wandered around, staying in the neighbourhoods were she knew humans weren't shocked seeing an elf. Often she felt the pull of one of those magic colleges, but she let it flow past her. It was likely she had a feeling for it - her great aunt Elriel had often noted how much they were alike - but she knew her parents objected to it, and without their permission... She had to wait until she either turned 42, or she got picked by a master... And that was so likely to happen!

She frowned, no magic, no bow... She had won the juvenile (odd word that) competition, which had resulted in her parent forbidden her the bow too. What was that Reikspiel word? 'Overprotective'. At least humans understood that.

"But she's just a child! And these humans... Nothing wrong with them, of course, but they're hardly more than... I'm sorry, I should not have said that. But why does that girl crave danger? I mean, wanting to go to a human magic college! The idea! And then she got in her head that she could join the army. Does she realize how dangerous that can be? That boy set her up to it, I'm sure. We should have told her not to speak to anybody... Oh dear, would she stoop to speaking with those grubby dwarves?"

Sometimes she did not understand her own kin. For example, most proper... no, bad word... Ulthuan elves were endlessly aggravated/amused by the fact that almost all humans could not tell them apart from... proper word... tricky... the elves living within the boundaries of the Empire. Of course that was just a simple thing in comparison to the Druchi. That subject was of-limits. And to what end? She might lack insight, but if there was a solid reason behind it then surely she was old enough to learn the basic truth?

She walked across one of Altdorf's 'big' squares, filled with people selling wares, demagogues telling the ultimate truth, and all kinds of humans walking to and fro, a few dwarves with far to much metal, and, of course, loads of children just having fun in the winter morning.

For a moment she stood there, hooded and cloaked to not to attract attention... Oh how she wanted to attract attention, to jump on one of those wooden boxes and just hold the attention of them, showing them a world which most had only dreamed of.

A pair of priest, Sigmar she guessed by their shaved heads and hammers, walked by, glaring at her because she was... not right in one way or another. She should stop dreaming, and start listening to her parents. Yes.

But first there was a storyteller on the edge of the square.

A few minutes wouldn't matter, surely.

The sun set on Sleeping Vale, the jagged shoulders of Lathfelltomdor - 'mountain brightest in darkness' - casting long shadows on the still verdant green grass and the many sheep wandering in small clusters. Several men and women were removing the last vestiges of the shearing place, the wool was already on its way to the spinners. Soon the vale would be empty again, for only wool was taken, nothing else. Lathfelltomdor grew dim, its internal fires dimmed over the millenia, as it kept watch over the border between the vale and Tiranoc. The rest of Caledor's mount was not to be disturbed.

Linolil felt the hand of her mother on her shoulder, soon they would need to return to their home, their travel through her mother's home over.

...

Linolil jolted awake, the memory of that event still sharp in her mind. Dragonriders without dragons, lords of lands lost under the sea... her mother's family had lost much. Tears silently streamed as she felt the loss, but after a while another realization came forward. It wasn't wrong to cry for what was lost, but one should work to create anew. She was a child of Ulthuan: it was not the question what she could do, it was only a question what she would.

If anything proved beyond measure that humans were crazy it was this: they celebrated the start of new year in the middle of winter!

And because it befitted a proper host to be welcome to his guest, as was a proper guest bound to follow his hosts rules, therefore her family received a few selected human families who had proved open to the elves cause and trade.

Boring, to well polished, grubby little smooth talkers, the lot of them.

She preferred a dwarven mercenary to those semi-deferential yes-nodders. What use would any of them be in a dark alley, surrounded by thugs (not that she had been in that situation, but she could hope)? Nothing! But that thought did not show on her face - she hoped.

Then she saw a couple of people she was glad to see: "I wish you an adventurous and successful new year!"

Dirty snow swirled through the air, the soot of many peat and wood fires darkening the pristine whiteness she longed for. She shivered in her cloak, as she saw halflings and guardsmen stand around the crumpled form of Dennis, a pie salesman and likable gossip. She wondered what happened, why Morai-Heg had spun this fate, but she wasn't so stupid as to step forward and ask. It must have happened mere minutes ago...

A guard glanced at her, and she kept her face blank and distant. A human he would have asked questions, or ordered to leave, but elves... As long as she did not say anything or moved closer she had 'standing', like a noble. The street felt oddly out of focus, as if something here was unseen, the buildings almost radiating 'sameness', impossible to remember.

She could smell Dennis' pies, lying scattered on the ground. She never asked what they were made of, but she knew the halfling had always given her one from a certain stack. Either he had liked her, or there was some hidden joke, but they were tasty so Linolil had accepted this as part of their game. He had told her amazing (and likely untrue) things about Altdorf, she had told him amazing (and mostly true) things about Ulthuan.

A few halflings had made a makeshift gurney and were lifting the remains. Suddenly she shuddered. What if those stories had actually been true?

With utmost care Linolil closed the door behind her. The clothes she wore would have made her mother faint, although many human wore something of like quality.

Which was exactly the point.

So many nice things to leave behind, but what was the point in lugging them along? Master Krug (also know as Alphonso the Magnificent) had been clear: few people truly preyed on wandering performers, as they seldom had any worthwhile goods. And even ruffians on the roads often could be 'bought of' with a free performance or two.

But once somebody found out you owned something precious and all bets were of.

It had taken her the better part of three months to cajole, threaten, wheedle, and plain begging to have her parent permit her to join a group of performers, and only because this group had a good reputation and was traveling south. Not the path she had planned for herself, but she couldn't stand staying at home any more.

Time to learn a trade, time to broaden her horizons.

Altdorf stunk. She remembered noticing it when she came here, a memory distant and as unreal as passing the ruby gates. And now, by leaving the city behind, she smelled the woods again. The first few miles manure was still thick in the air, but slowly nature returned.

Oh how she had missed it, yet how did she miss the throng of people. Divided by two realms. She walked behind the cart holding most of the stage and tents, the most inexperienced of the group. Would master Krug have selected her if she had not been an elf? Probably not. She was rare, rare attracted people, and, she was sure of this, if she was no good with a knife act, then they would make a clown's act of her.

Would that be a bad thing? Not in it self, maybe, but it would if it was because she failed.
This message was last edited by the player at 09:52, Fri 30 Mar 2012.

You always said goodbye on a crossroad. Where else? Because it would be weird to leave halfway a path. The troupe was going west, back to Altdorf, for another tour. Linolil decided she was not going back. She wasn't finished learning. She was definitely not ready for her mothers 'care'. So she decided to turn east.

It could have been north, but she had promised her father no to go and look for danger.

She saw the caravan leave. No true friends there, although she had been accepted, and had accepted their way of life. A phase worth growing through, but now she needed to branch out.

East.

To adventure.