08-06-2011, 06:30 PM
My new IC thread, made for both canon and noncanon events in roleplay. Whether they're real or not will be noted.
Amongst the Nerubians (Canon)
Amongst the Nerubians (Canon)
Spoiler:
It was the second day within Sundered Monolith. Or was it? Without the regular patterns of day and night, Elruimar's sense of time was being sapped away. He sat up against the stone wall of his prison, and waited for what would come.
"Hh'tcht. Makj." The voice just outside the stone spoke in a language of clicks and rasps. The massive piece of wall barricading the entrance was dragged aside, allowing the light to flood in. And the creature silhouetted by the light was another Nerubian; taller than the warriors he'd encountered before. It gave a few further clicks and a gesture to the one outside before approaching the crouched elf.
"Akhan-elf. What is your purpose here?" Its language changed effortlessly to Common. "Why do you carry artifacts of our people?" Elruimar was left staring for a moment. Whatever he had expected of Nerubian Seers, it hadn't involved eloquence. He noticed a cluster of documents on the underside of the Nerubian, pasted there by spider-silk.
"I'm here to return those artifacts to their rightful owners. They were lost many years back when a Nerubian city was captured by the Scourge."
"Where was this elf, to be witnessing this?" There was a hiss to the voice which made his blood run cold. Well, colder anyhow. He stood up. The Nerubian watched each movement with glistening black eyes like polished pebbles in a river.
"They were on the borders of a Nerubian city in the Borean Tundra. I don't know who put them there, but I think they were trying to save them from the invasion."
The Nerubian looked down to the artifacts in the center of the room. They were mostly sculptures carved from vivid red stone - perhaps carnelian - and banded with striations of black and gray. And they ranged in use; from decorative sculptures of some long-forgotten spidery ruler, to a pitcher and plate stamped with symbols on their edges. A valuable cargo indeed. So distinctively Nerubian that Elruimar wondered why the guards hadn't just killed him for the crime of possessing one of their treasures.
When the Nerubian looked at him again, it was with intent. "Do you wish to bargain over them?"
Definitely a trick question. The elf looked away from the myriad twinkling eyes. "No. They belong to your people. But I'd like to ask a favor in return."
"We do not grant favors." The Nerubian began scooping up the artifacts one by one, putting each onto the broad span of its back. It turned and began to walk out.
"Please-"
"You are still alive. Consider that a favor granted. You will be escorted to the borders by a guard. And there, our interest in you ends."
"I want to stay."
Beyond it was a sort of cityscape; a massive carved pillar
riddled with holes and passageways. Sundered Monolith.
Nothing compared to what Azjol-Nerub had been once.
He could hear the soft chatter and click of the creatures around him, and see the glowing spider-silk which hung in tendrils from the ceiling and gave them light. It was all beautiful, in a strange sort of way. Refugees of the Scourge - still holding strong. Much like the Blood Elves.
"Why?"
"Because - I want to learn about them. I've heard stories of Azjol-Nerub and what it was once like. I've seen some of it. It was one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen."
"So a Blood-elf finds inspiration in the alien." The Nerubian clicked softly. "And wishes to preserve it. Unfortunately one individual - particularly one of a soft, squeamish race such as the Blood-elves - makes a negligible impact on our situation. There is nothing you can do which we cannot do better."
"I'm not a warrior. I'd never claim to be better than you at defending your people and way of life. But there are some things I'm good at. I'm an artist amongst my own race, and my lifespan is much longer than a Nerubian's. If I could stay here and learn Nerubian arts, then even if the worst happens.. you'll still have someone who remembers some of your traditions, and can pass them on to others. They'll never be forgotten or lost."
"You make an interesting proposition. Yet, this is not enough. We also need proof that you will do us this service, and are not here to simply profit off our knowledge."
"How should I prove that?"
"I will discuss this bargain and your continued presence here with Majis'Tomon. I can give you no answer until then." The Seer took a statuette off its back and gazed at it thoughtfully. "You will remain here for the duration. While you are waiting, you should create a piece of art. The quality of it will determine whether you are worthy of learning from us."
Suddenly, Elruimar was very glad he'd brought his set of paints.
"Hh'tcht. Makj." The voice just outside the stone spoke in a language of clicks and rasps. The massive piece of wall barricading the entrance was dragged aside, allowing the light to flood in. And the creature silhouetted by the light was another Nerubian; taller than the warriors he'd encountered before. It gave a few further clicks and a gesture to the one outside before approaching the crouched elf.
"Akhan-elf. What is your purpose here?" Its language changed effortlessly to Common. "Why do you carry artifacts of our people?" Elruimar was left staring for a moment. Whatever he had expected of Nerubian Seers, it hadn't involved eloquence. He noticed a cluster of documents on the underside of the Nerubian, pasted there by spider-silk.
"I'm here to return those artifacts to their rightful owners. They were lost many years back when a Nerubian city was captured by the Scourge."
"Where was this elf, to be witnessing this?" There was a hiss to the voice which made his blood run cold. Well, colder anyhow. He stood up. The Nerubian watched each movement with glistening black eyes like polished pebbles in a river.
"They were on the borders of a Nerubian city in the Borean Tundra. I don't know who put them there, but I think they were trying to save them from the invasion."
The Nerubian looked down to the artifacts in the center of the room. They were mostly sculptures carved from vivid red stone - perhaps carnelian - and banded with striations of black and gray. And they ranged in use; from decorative sculptures of some long-forgotten spidery ruler, to a pitcher and plate stamped with symbols on their edges. A valuable cargo indeed. So distinctively Nerubian that Elruimar wondered why the guards hadn't just killed him for the crime of possessing one of their treasures.
When the Nerubian looked at him again, it was with intent. "Do you wish to bargain over them?"
Definitely a trick question. The elf looked away from the myriad twinkling eyes. "No. They belong to your people. But I'd like to ask a favor in return."
"We do not grant favors." The Nerubian began scooping up the artifacts one by one, putting each onto the broad span of its back. It turned and began to walk out.
"Please-"
"You are still alive. Consider that a favor granted. You will be escorted to the borders by a guard. And there, our interest in you ends."
"I want to stay."
There was a long pause.
Elruimar looked past the Nerubian silhouetted in the door.Beyond it was a sort of cityscape; a massive carved pillar
riddled with holes and passageways. Sundered Monolith.
Nothing compared to what Azjol-Nerub had been once.
He could hear the soft chatter and click of the creatures around him, and see the glowing spider-silk which hung in tendrils from the ceiling and gave them light. It was all beautiful, in a strange sort of way. Refugees of the Scourge - still holding strong. Much like the Blood Elves.
"Why?"
"Because - I want to learn about them. I've heard stories of Azjol-Nerub and what it was once like. I've seen some of it. It was one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen."
"So a Blood-elf finds inspiration in the alien." The Nerubian clicked softly. "And wishes to preserve it. Unfortunately one individual - particularly one of a soft, squeamish race such as the Blood-elves - makes a negligible impact on our situation. There is nothing you can do which we cannot do better."
"I'm not a warrior. I'd never claim to be better than you at defending your people and way of life. But there are some things I'm good at. I'm an artist amongst my own race, and my lifespan is much longer than a Nerubian's. If I could stay here and learn Nerubian arts, then even if the worst happens.. you'll still have someone who remembers some of your traditions, and can pass them on to others. They'll never be forgotten or lost."
"You make an interesting proposition. Yet, this is not enough. We also need proof that you will do us this service, and are not here to simply profit off our knowledge."
"How should I prove that?"
"I will discuss this bargain and your continued presence here with Majis'Tomon. I can give you no answer until then." The Seer took a statuette off its back and gazed at it thoughtfully. "You will remain here for the duration. While you are waiting, you should create a piece of art. The quality of it will determine whether you are worthy of learning from us."
Suddenly, Elruimar was very glad he'd brought his set of paints.