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Discussions and Dragons (Vel/Rommath)

#11
He pondered the woman in his mind's eye.

A vrykul demigoddess, he thought to himself.  Interesting. 

"You say her father is one of their gods," he projected to Vel. "Did she tell you more of them? I know only what cyrptic tales their seers have shared... and what General Duskseeker's own investigations have revealed."
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#12
"Much of what she had to share were stories and mythology," Velameestra replied, her eyes hovering on the dummy before she opted to sheathe the blade to its scabbard at her hip. While the makeshift training grounds were almost always occupied during the waking hours, more had started to migrate towards them--normally a clear indicator that the area was going to start getting louder than it already was. "But she said he was created rather than born--supposedly by entities she called 'Makers'. She recognized a language I learned, one we uncovered in one of the ancient towers in the Redridge Mountains. She referred to it as their tongue."

She raised a hand in greeting to some of the draenei Vindicators that were arriving as she strolled past, before she allowed her hands to lock behind her back--all but vanishing into the darker shadows along the edge of the grotto.

"According to the tales, Thorim and the other gods created by the Makers fought back against an empire of darkness that threatened Azeroth long ago--as was their duty. Supposedly they were successful in vanquishing it." The vampyr's eyes moved skyward, to the crevice through which light streamed and the various roots and outcroppings that made up the grotto wall. Her hands found purchase on one of the rocks, opting to propel herself to a quieter retreat.

"Due to our own findings here in Kalimdor, I'm not entirely sure that last part is fully correct, but that's conjecture. Her mother was one of the Hyldnir vrykul--one who had won their Hyldsmeet and, in the process, was given the honor of becoming Thorim's wife. He has been... despondent since her death."

It did not take her long to find an acceptable ledge--climbing along the rocks with skill and finesse that would not have been possible were it not for her supernatural existence.

"If you're looking for other names... unfortunately, those I--"

The woman cut her projection off abruptly, her thoughts reeling back to her last conversation with the giantess.

"Actually, pardon, she mentioned a Helya. I asked her about the kvaldir as she was concerned that was what her brethren had become. Supposedly this Helya rules over a place known as Helheim--and the kvaldir are disgraced vrykul that serve her in death."
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#13
God-creating Makers. Empire of Darkness. Thorim. Hyldnir. 

Helya.

"General Duskseeker was looking for information on her. Some of the Dragonflayers have likened her to a Goddess of Death–the Mother of the Underworld. I presume this Helya is their death goddess, apparently as absent as their other gods.

"I must admit, I doubted the existence of their gods, but the existence of demigods makes it difficult to deny, unless her lineage is metaphorical, rather than physical. Nevertheless, this Thorim, too, is indisposed, it seems. A shame; I daresay Silvermoon could have used gods to fight back against dark empires. But I believe I now have a few theories as to what the General is up to, at least. Doubly so, given the connection to these Hyldnir clan vrykul."

Rommath smirked. He had already pulled out a rough sheaf of parchment and began sketching the skeleton, as well as its rough location, lattitude, longitude, and distance in miles to the last landmark they had been at. He was neither an artist nor a cartographer, but someone who was could refine his information, measurements, and calculations to transform his novice rendition into something future expeditions could use with faith and confidence.

"Dragons, demigoddesses, demon-posessed leaders of precursor races. You certainly do have a habit of encountering the most colorful of crowds, Miss Windrunner."
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#14
"Regrettably or thankfully, depending on how you look at it," the arcanist replied, parroting back the Grand Magister's earlier statement with a faint smirk of her own. Her new vantage point gave her a view of most of the Hold--the narrow ledge she tight-roped along barely acknowledged as the soles of her feet kept her securely erect; enough so that her hands remained clasped behind her back instead of held out for balance.

"I'll, of course, be informing my aunt once this... debacle is over. We'll be returning to the Eastern Kingdoms soon after. It's my intention to touch-base in Northrend once I get a read on the present situation--from what Astalor expressed on my last visit, it may be a more efficacious way for news to travel with the disturbance as it is. If you are not at the Landing when I return, I can endeavor to reach out--perhaps I'll redirect some of my studies toward this incantation given it's more than proved its usefulness."

She unclasped a hand to run it through her hair--flinching at the Light that momentarily pierced through the silky veil that shielded her eyes. She felt her tongue play idly with one of her fangs.

"I... also wanted to inform you of one other thing--one a bit more... personal. I was recently able to confirm my mother's status. Very recently, in fact. I... thought you might like to know."
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#15
"Ah."

His hand froze on the parchment, but not from the weather.

"I... presume from your tone, and that you deigned to reach out to me at all, that the news was good. Or positive, at the very least."

I do hope so. he thought, the shadow of guilt creeping upon his conscience once more.
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#16
"The hex is done. It no longer exists," Vel replied as she stepped onto a wider ledge--the breadth of the outcropping now wide enough that she didn't need to rely on her uncanny climbing abilities. "Her soul's been freed."

A small, melancholic smile crossed the vampyr's lips as she looked down over the hold again. Subconsciously, the flicker of an ethereal, smiling woman's face bled across the telepathic connection--her mouth moving in a silent, tearful thank you, perhaps unknowingly directed at him as much as it had been her daughter.

"I didn't get to see her long before she dissipated, but she seemed... whole. Aside from the toll of the hex itself, at least. It was a..." the woman trailed off, opting not to go into further details. "Regardless, I would like to reiterate my thanks, Grand Magister. It was your prowess that ultimately ensured I survived the transition and had that opportunity, after all. And the opportunity for whatever comes next."
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#17
Rommath closed his eyes. For a moment, he thought he was holding his breath and went to breathe a sigh of relief, only to remember that he no longer had any breath to hold.

The Grand Magister didn't know what to say. A couple of minutes passed in silence as he processed this; the image of Velameestra's mother, ephemeral and smiling, and of the mage's repeated thanks.

"Good," he resolved on. "I'm... glad to hear you were able to liberate her spirit from the necromancer's clutches. And that the hex no longer plagues you in any way.

"From what I learned of it in my brief exposure, the hex was not a simple one. You earned this victory, Miss Windrunner. I am... simply happy to have been of service."

Relief washed away the guilt of his blunder–some of it, that is. Though he did not regret his inquisition during her fledging, as it confirmed for him she was far from a threat to her people, his misconduct towards him still hung heavy on his darkened heart. But that guilt was for another day.

"Congratulations,"
he projected. "And thank you, for informing me."
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#18
Velameestra had continued her slow navigation along the edge of the grotto--the leisurely pace once more turning into a gentle incline as she identified a path she could peruse with little difficulty. The pause in their transmission had started to seed small tendrils of concern--perhaps that she had somehow overstepped. Perhaps that she had somehow been too personal in an otherwise objective exchange of information. She rolled over the verbage in her mind, and was halfway through an in-depth analysis of how she had framed her tone before the other vampyr's voice returned to her senses.

It was a strange sense of relief.

"Of course," her response came quickly. "Given my reaction initially, I felt it right you know."

She had covered a fair distance to the other side of the Hold--away from where the light of the naaru was brightest.

"But that is... all I have to report right now, Grand Magister. If I think of anything further while this spell is active, I will convey such, but otherwise I'll let you get back to your business." She smirked faintly, edges of her dry humor bleeding into the projection. "Unless you happen to share Pathaleon's fascination with my favorite color."
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#19
Rommath finished up his measurements and details and stood up again, giving Alleria a nod which she promptly returned. He would pass along the information Vel had sent to the Ranger-Captain soon, so that they were both equipped for the venture.

They began to move across the glacier once again. In truth, the distraction had been welcome, and he was not against its continue, especially given the duration of the enchantment which connected their minds.

Colors. What a benign topic of conversation. I suppose such should be expected by one such as he, when the arithmetic is finished.

Rommath grinned.

"Blue."
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