Imprints in Stone [AU]

[GamesMaster]

"I know everyone thinks it'll be Ari, but I really want to be Keeper. This crisis, this... it only reminded me why. I could do a lot of good, I think, and I have to try. When I'm Keeper, I won't... it won't be good to be too friendly with humans. I need my people to know they come first."

[Bethany]

"Then..." Bethany swallows. "Well, that just means two- no, three- things. One, it means we need to work on improving things for the catfolk, so the divide isn't so bad. Two, I need to keeping working to prove myself to the others of your tribe. And three... we should make the best of the time we have... just in case."

[GamesMaster]

"Just in case," he says, brushing the backs of his fingers along her cheek.

[Carver Amell]

Carver was truly enjoying his trip.

Sure, he had to earn his keep. There were bandit raids and wild beast attacks, but the clarity of battle honestly relaxed him. It was way more fun than dealing with all these messy numbers and feelings and expectations. And he was making friends with some of the mercenaries who had also hired on for the trip. Such friends, in fact, that they'd begun a betting pool, with a complex system of people owing people beers when they got to Raplin's Oak.

Weirdly enough, when all's settled down on paper, Carver's up one beer. The hells did that happen? he wonders, but he doesn't complain, and neither does the woman with close-cropped hair who owes him that beer. They head to the inn, toasting to their fortune before separating to their rooms for the night.

The next morning, his letter of introduction in hand, Carver makes his way down to the common room. He'd enjoyed the chance to sleep in, so it's already lunchtime by the time he arrives. Perhaps I should stop for another beer before I go find this teacher.

[NPCs]

Once he's down in the commons, he's presented with a vivid reminder that this is a druid town. If the shaggy looking boar laying across the floor or the owl, hawk and goose having a threeway staring match wasn't enough, the trio of outdoorsy looking mortals clad in animal skin sharing a beer would likely do it. One is a human woman wearing a bear pelt, with a massive stone hammer resting against her chair. The second, an elven male wearing just buckskin pants with bird feathers woven into his long hair and a bow leaning against his chair. The last person is also an elf, or maybe merikos, and much younger than the other two. At least... he looks elvish, but his skin is pale grey and his hair bright silver. Strange. 

Seeing Carver walk down, the woman offers him a wave, then gestures at the free seat in silent offer.

[Carver Amell]

Grey skin and white hair... that sounds... familiar... some kind of elf? Frowning slightly in thought, Carver makes his way toward the chair, staring as he goes. He looks about my age. A lot like Merrill, actually. Delicate. Kind of in a pretty way. Wait, maybe that's a she?

[NPCs]

It's possible but given that he's only wearing an unbuttoned vest, it's pretty doubtful. Even Merrill, as lanky and slender as she is, has tits enough to be visible in that shirt.  "Wellmet lad," the woman says in a deep, husky voice, easily explained by the scar tissue on the left side of her neck. "Just came in with the caravan, ya?"

[Carver Amell]

"Yeah," he says absently. "I came through here last year though."

[NPCs]

"Pull up a seat. Buy'a a beer iffen you share what news you have o' the world around," she offers. 

[Carver Amell]

"Yeah, sure!" 

Carver takes a seat eagerly, happy to share what news he's picked up in exchange for more of that nice beer from last night. He's midway through one of his stories when he suddenly blurts out, "Drow!" 

He immediately reddens, ducking his head and refusing to look at the grey-skinned man. "S-sorry, I, I just couldn't place where-- you're drow." 

[NPCs]

The young man tenses at the blurted word, but settles back into his seat, mostly, at the follow-up. "...merikos drow, technically but... yes," he replies warily.

The man fixes Carver with a hard look. "Jassinth has lived in our village, under our care, since he was a babe," he murmurs in a soft, lilting voice. "The only danger he's ever posed is when he first attempted to learn the art of bladework and took the life of some dozen odd of his mother's flowers."

[Carver Amell]

"Hey, swords are hard, okay," he defends instantly. "I wasn't any good the first time I picked one up either."

[NPCs]

Jassinth relaxes even more. "Quite so. I've had far more luck with the bow. Better for my prefered hunting anyway- my Auther over there, the fine looking raptor over there and I are very partial to duck and pheasant. Red meat is a bit too heavy for my tastes."

[Carver Amell]

"I've never actually met a Drow before," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "'s why it took me so long to remember where I'd heard about grey skin. Are they -- you -- like elves, mostly eating plants?"

Don't fuck this up, he instructs himself firmly. You read they're slavers and rapists, but you also fucked things up with Andy pretty bad assuming tieflings were like demons. Maybe the book was wrong. Though if Helene's books are wrong I think she-they're going to have a fit. Oh! I could find out. Like a spy. Getting accurate intel and bringing it back. Then they'd think I'm smart.

[NPCs]

"Ah... possibly? I wasn't... raised there. I've actually never met another drow. Not even merikos drow," Jassinth admits awkwardly. "My mother- not my birth mother, obviously, is elven, so I grew up eating a lot of vegetables and fruit, but..." He shrugs. "Like I said, red meat bothers me, and pork is often too greasy. I prefer avian or fish."

The human grunts. "Mushrooms and lizards, from what I heard. Fish too. No sunlight, ya understand."