exsilium | ii

Entry tags:

ii | video

[ This lady's looking a little different, for anyone that's spoken with her before. Not any older, but there's a sort of crooked quality to her nose, like it'd been broken and healed some time ago. She's lounging in the Initiative apartments, looking like she's recently made friends with a superiority complex. ]

I want to speak to those of you who have seen a war before. Not the skirmishes that the Initiative sends us on here, but actual war.

And failing that, I'll take anyone that knows magic — and can teach it. That part is important. Don't waste my time if all you can do is cast it.

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[He opens his mouth and then closes it again. There might've been more of a fight about being usurped and then ordered around, but having his questions answered was far more important than his pride.]

As you wish. You will see me no later than that.

Don't be long.

[ a quick smile, and... shit she meant to hang up cleanly, but it takes a little bit of fumbling. stupid technology. ]

[And it really doesn't take Thorin long at all to reach her door, considering the fact that she was just one floor apart from him (it's a small world, after all).

So after about twenty minutes or so (he wasn't going to rush there), he raps his knuckles loudly on the door and takes a step back. He doesn't have his fur or his armor on, but he does hang onto Orcrist, which his hand rests by out of habit more than intent to use it.]

[ It takes her some time to get to the door, which is laziness and resent of the fact that she actually has to stand up more than anything else. But she makes it eventually, and... glances down.

Oh, hey. She hadn't realized this guy would be so short. She's pretty tall as a human, but this guy, dang. She squints. ]

Are you... a dwarf? [ She's heard they're short and have beards, all of them. But that's about all she knows. ]

[He was more than accustomed to looking up when he has to address someone that isn't a dwarf or a hobbit. All the same, dwarves never considered themselves short, or at a disadvantage due to their height. Everyone else was unnecessarily tall, if anything.

So he doesn't wither like a self-conscious violet under her gaze. He stares back and nods once, in confirmation to her question.] I go by Thorin Oakenshield.

[ The answer passes inspection, after a second or two of consideration. She nods and stands to the side by way of inviting him in. ]

And I go by Onyx.

[ And as soon as he's in, she'll push the door closed and start back to the living room, where she reclaims her lounge across the couch. It is a pretty fancy place, having been adorned by two black dragons with classy tastes. He's apparently welcome to take one of the chairs, or just stand awkwardly. Whatever tickles his dwarven fancy. ]

[He starts to make his way by her into the apartment, stopping and looking back at her in interest when she introduces herself. The mineral onyx was valued for its stripes and carving ability: the dwarves used it for beads, jewelry, and building material. It's a decent name, he supposes, if a person wants to be named after a stone.]

We are well met, my lady.

[In the living room, he will remove his sword from his belt and set it to the side before helping himself to a seat in one of the chairs.] How would you have us go about this?

[ She settles down comfortably, plucks up the fancy wine glass she'd been enjoying before the door sounded, and completely fails to realize it's generally polite to offer one to the guest, too. ]

Ask me a question, and after my answer, tell one of your stories.

[If he were one of the other dwarves in his company, he would've been in the kitchen, and he would've been pillaging every crevice food could be stored inside with or without an offer. At least Thorin had some manners, even if he lacked charm.]

How did you find your way out of this place?

It wasn't intentional, and I couldn't replicate it. [ As much as it visibly irritates her to admit something is beyond her control. ] It was as unexpected as arriving here in the first place.

[He just looks like he heard something drunk.] Then I do not understand. If the ones that keep us here want an army, there is no purpose to send the soldiers home just to call them back again with no further explanation.

Tell me what happened when you returned to your homeland: was there time that had been lost?

[ She quirks a brow. ]

That's two questions in a row. I'm not sure that's fair.

[Thorin slowly straightens in his seat, though a dark shadow still seems to move behind his eyes.] Then perhaps it is too much to ask one more--if I do not swear it bears relation to my story.

What does the name 'orc' mean to you? If anything at all?

[ She considers it, and... shakes her head. ]

It's not a name I've heard before. Who is it?

A foul, mutilated race. [His words are clipped, and become more and more disgusted as he goes.] There is nothing good that they create, nor is there any mercy in their hearts. The orc is only clever in the ways of cruelty and destruction.

[ huh. sounds kinda like... ]

Are you familiar with ogres?

I've heard stories of them. [A tale most often told by Men, and exploited by their children in order to scare their little siblings into tears. He also supposes there were some hobbits that passed ogre stories along, and that would be the closest thing to danger their precious Shire would ever know.] Cannibal giants. Nothing more than legend.

They're not that tall, and probably only somewhat more likely to cannibalize than a human. You described them better when you were talking about orcs. [ A shrug. ] In any case, it seems like your picture is clear. Continue.

They wormed their way into the abandoned mines of my kin--you can imagine such vile creatures taking to theft. But my grandfather heard no word of this when he led us there.

We traveled far to find our ancestral realm taken. Our enemy greatly overpowered us in number, but we took arms and fought the orcs.

[ Ogres turning to theft? Oh yeah, no need to imagine that. But now his story is getting interesting. She leans in a little, head cocked. ]

But you stand before me today to relate the tale. Did you win?

[Thorin takes note of the interested shift in her body language and raises his eyebrows.]

Answer my question and I will tell you.

[ Her lips purse in annoyance-- a nice little signifier of displeasure she picked up from someone around here. But, well, that was the agreement. ]

They didn't send me back intentionally, I don't think. It seems to be the instability of their machine. And when I returned home, it was precisely the same second I'd left it, and I forgot my time here right up until the moment I returned to Exsilium.

[Her irritation is lost on Thorin--what matters to him is she doesn't try to argue, and her response is favorable. It sounds like something he could find hope in.

He wants to ask if there were others, but he knows how that will go. He returns to her question with a growing heaviness in his voice.]

Over ten-thousand orcs were slain in that battle. Their leader wounded and dragged back into the mines. We were victorious.

[ There's a pleased little smile here, and she can only imagine how wonderful a battle that must have been. But: ]

You don't sound very pleased about your victory.

[He scowls at that observation.] It pleases me enough.

It may please you less when you remember the smell of old blood. And the ground covered with your dead, far past the ability to bury them. Half the dwarves that fought at my side now reside in the halls of Mandos, with our Maker.

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shall we make this action?

Sounds like a plan o/

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