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Post by Horace on Jan 2, 2009 0:18:28 GMT -8
Horace looked on in mild amazement as Sarriet opened the entrance. He followed the elf, putting the lute away and looking intently at the cave walls, memorizing every detail.
They entered the subterranean world coming across what was clearly a roadway. He noticed the beautifully cut flagstones that carpeted the road for miles to come. The tunnel walls were covered by carvings. Directions, prayers, jokes, travelogues, from what Horace could tell. Writings in hundreds of languages.
"Hey boss, what exactly is your relation to all this, and whoever we might find here?"
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Post by shinnkopf on Jan 2, 2009 0:43:08 GMT -8
Sarriet looked at the all-too-familiar tunnel with a mixture of nostalgia and sadness. He had not seen these carving, these stones for many years. They took a left upon coming to it and traveled slowly, as they did not wish to miss any signs of danger, and Horace seemed intent on studying the walls, floors and ceiling of the place.
"This region is where I grew up. I was raised a few miles outside of Ekvisted in a small community of elves. My father was a mushroom farmer....... We may find some here that i am vaguely familiar with, but I doubt anybody here will remember me.... This is actually the same region that our dear Sultan is from. This is the region of Shinnkopf. It gets its name from his family's name, who were once the lords of this territory alone, until they lead a bloody war on their neighbors and eventually the upper world. It was a shameful period in our history... as elves, I mean....."
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Post by Horace on Jan 2, 2009 0:50:27 GMT -8
Horace listened to the story. A mushroom farmer who can conjure sandstorms and melt brains eh? Horace knew there was something his boss wasn't telling him. That compounded with this neverending tunnel frightened Horace somewhat. Horace found that the ball of light would float with him at head level. His hands free he took out the lute. He began strumming a tune singing the lyrics as he remembered them:
I quick began to speak,
As she stood right in front of me,
The color of her eyes,
Were the color of insanity,
Crushed beneath her wave,
Like a ship, I could not reach the shore
"Forgot the rest," he muttered trying to recapture the tune...
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Post by shinnkopf on Jan 2, 2009 1:00:14 GMT -8
Sarriet continued forward, not looking at Horace as he half-heartedly strummed away on his lute. Sarriet found that he did not like lying to this man. Though they had known eachother for a very limited time, he could see in his mind the bonds of friendship forming. It troubled him to have to lie to him, but he had no other choice. This was how it had to be.
He isn't a very talented singer, is he? asked Emara in his mind. Sarriet chuckled under his breath at this and said, Listening to him is a lot better than listening to you feline love ballads! Even in my head they make me cringe.. He smiled and laughed and Emara gave him a half-disgusted, half-playful look.
They trudged on, Horace still trying to remember the words, and Sarriet in silence. About half an hour later, they arrived at a crossroads. Sarriet knew that the must continue on straight, so as to reach the city of Ekvisted and from there continue west, but he didn't want to. Once they were there, he would be hard pressed to find an elf that DIDN'T know him or at least know OF him, and then the jig would be up, and Horace would find out the truth.
Will he leave when he finds out who i truly am? He thought to himself. Probably. And then He'll have to find his way out of this wretched place all by himself. Reluctantly, Sarriet led on forward, towards the place of his birth and his inevitable exposure...
"So," he asked quietly, "Who do you sing about?"
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Post by Horace on Jan 2, 2009 12:56:59 GMT -8
Shaken out of his reverie, Horace replied, "No one in particular, it's a jig from Caer'Threshold up north. Some old wives' tale about a coven of witches that lures young people to their demise. Fairly apt metaphor for good ole Threshold now that I think about it."
As Horace rambled he noticed Sarriet growing increasingly bothered. Horace could tell the elf was often communicating with the cat. They walked on footsteps echoing on the deserted tunnelway. Finally Horace glimpsed light other than the globe at his side Sarriet had produced. A city perhaps?
"Hey boss, what's that up ahead?"
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Post by shinnkopf on Jan 2, 2009 14:40:56 GMT -8
Sarriet had not really been listening to Horace, as he had noticed the light right as his companion had begun to speak. This was the first of 3 checkpoints they must face before entering into the city proper. This would be his first trial. In order to enter the city, especially with a guest, one had to identify themselves as a resident or as an authorized visitor. This would be difficult to do without revealing his true identity and ruining everything, not to mention bringing loads of attention to himself, which was exactly what he didn't want. Luckily he had not had his scar the last time he visited, so nobody would recognize that particular distinguishing feature. He decided that his best bet was to clothe himself in Daniforth's identity, as he was a citizen of the realm, and few knew of his consul position to the sultan. The only trick to it was how to explain the fake name to Horace...
"It is a checkpoint. One of three we must face to enter the city. For this, as I am not a citizen of this city, i must garb myself in a new identity for us to be allowed passage. I will use my friend Daniforth's name for this part of our journey, so please do not forget and call me by my true name whilst we are within the city or at the checkpoints..."
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