If Nallei could suddenly master one thing, what would it be?
(She would definitely choose to be able to suddenly just know how to make scribe runes. Right now she sucks at it. Sure, she enjoys it as a hobby at the moment but she’s hopelessly terrible at making anything effective.)
It’s night time in Telaar, Nagrad. Most of the crystals around the small town are dimmed and its inhabitants fast asleep. There are a few guards wandering around, patrolling the area for dangers, but other than that, the place is calm, the hum of crystals and the sound of insects buzzing around in the warm night air.
And then there’s Nallei, sitting at a desk at the Telaar inn, wide awake and wearing only a loose robe. Her dark armour sits nearby, placed haphazardly at the foot of the bed. She looks busy, a bit annoyed (but isn’t that her usual look?) at the parchment in front of her. She scrapes a sharp nail across the desk, carving a furrow into it. There are some other similar marks littering the surface.
The parchment, it appears, bears runes. They aren’t the prettiest, and some are sort of sloppy. A few of them look like ink blot messes. Nallei’s writing hand is smeared with various colours and her quill looks more than used at the tip.
The Ebon knight dips the dull tip into an inkwell of red, gritting her teeth in concentration. There is a fresh space on her parchment; she can do this. She remembers what the rune looks like clearly in her mind’s eye. The tip of the quill descends…
…and at the last moment, the ink drips with a huge ‘plop’ on the paper and the quill tip snaps off.
Nallei gapes, brows furrowed in disbelief. Anger soon overtakes her features, a growl forming at her lips. Without a second thought, the Draenei stands abruptly, grabs for her polearm, and jumps down the stairwell still clad in nothing but a sheer robe.
Time to go let off some steam.