[RP] What Are the Odds?
((This is a…rather different take on the theme of ‘overcoming the odds.’ But I do believe that by the end, you will agree that some pretty severe odds have indeed been overcome!))
The Ghostlands July 5
Tythanion Sunborne hummed quietly to himself as he cut his way through the brush of the Ghostland’s forest. He wasn’t entirely sure where he was, but this did not concern him greatly. The great towers of Zul’Aman, and the thrum of arcane magic from the direction of Eversong, was all the compass he required. That, and the Light of course; the one thing that would never, ever steer him wrong.
His ears twitched as a soft chant in an ancient tongue drifted to them across the darkening mist. He could feel the age of those words, and the power in them, as surely as he felt the purity of the prayers he repeated every night without fail. But where his own prayers filled his mind with peace, and Light…these words had the sound of drumbeats in them…bone striking taut leather, and naked feet stomping frantically against dirt and rock.
The elf swallowed hard, raised his chin, and continued deeper into the forest.
The chanting grew steadily louder.
Tythanion continued on.
By and by the trees thinned, and he came upon a small clearing in the woods. He was no Farstrider, but even Ty’s unpracticed eye could see the remnants of long-overgrown tree stumps--no doubt cut down ages ago to make room for the small temple squatting at the clearing’s center. He stepped lightly now, approaching the sacred place (at least he presumed it was once sacred to someone) as quietly as his heavy boots would allow.
The chanting grew steadily louder.
Just on the other side of the wall, now, it was. Ty paused in the stone archway, held his breath as he poked his head gingerly around the—
A great hand shot out of the deep darkness within, securing itself around Tythanion’s neck before the elf could let out a gasp of surprise, let alone scream. Burning eyes glowered at him from the shadows as he clutched at the arm, battering at it ineffectually with plated fists. A face, features twisted in unnatural, horrible ways, leered at him, offering no hope of respite.
Light shield me…!
The thing growled at him in that same primordial language—even if it hadn’t been crushing his throat, Ty wasn’t sure he would have been able to respond to this…thing.
The thing narrowed its eyes, cocking its head in an almost curious gesture. A blink, and then a free hand pushed up the ritual mask to reveal the face of a middle-aged troll glaring at him. “Wat ya doin’ ‘ere, elfy?” the troll asked, relaxing his grip on Ty’s neck. “Dis ain’ your land.”
“Well ah. Technically according to the political boundaries established by theeeEEEKKK--!” The rest of the thought remained unsaid, as the troll oh-so-casually cut off his air flow again.
“I don’ care wat ya maps say, elfy. Dis land be holy ta de loa, an’ dey don’ give a shit about ya ‘boundaries’—an’ neidder do I.” Ty gasped as the troll let go of his neck, fully this time, and allowed him to fall to the ground in what would have been a quite embarrassing heap, if the elf had been focused on appearances rather than breathing. The troll crouched down, nonchalantly balancing a long, thin dagger in his palm as he loomed over the smaller creature. “I gonna ask ya again. An’ dis time ya don’ get a second chance: wat’er ya doin’ ‘ere, elfymon?”
Oh Light, Light, banish from my heart all uncertainty and fear… “I ah…I was seeking…information…” For my faith is a shield though I come before my enemies naked and innocent as newborn babe…
The troll’s mouth twitched—in amusement or annoyance Ty couldn’t begin to guess. “Dat so? An’ wat infamantion be ya seekin’ in an old Amani temple, eh?”
Trust in the truth and speak without fear… The elf cleared his throat, gingerly pushing himself into a sitting position without taking his eyes off the knife’s blade/ glinting in the dim torchlight. “I was ah…” He shuffled uncomfortably, and took a moment to compose himself since his…captor? Companion? Seemed equally unhurried. “I was attempting to learn about these ‘loa’ you spoke of, actually.” For the path of truth is ever righteous and uncompromising, and shines brightly in the most holy Light.
The troll blinked again and, incredibly, burst into a loud, hearty peal of laughter that was so unlike the primitive snarl of a few minutes before that Ty could scarcely believe it came from the same being. “Elfy, dat’s too stupid’a answa ta be’a lie.” Still grinning (at least, Ty thought it was a grin), the troll reached down and offered a hand to help the elf to his feet. “Taz’jin Darkspea.”
Ty accepted the hand, and clambered up, feeling much more himself as he straightened his tabard and began brushing off his armor. “Oh—Light bless you. It is quite dusty in here, isn’t it? I’m very glad I’m not allergic—would you like to go outside, perhaps?”
“S’my name, elfymon.”
“Hm? Excuse me?”
“Taz’jin Darkspea. S’my name.”
“Your—OH! Oh forgive me, I didn’t mean—that is—erm—I’m not quite, you see, and—and—”
The troll that called itself Taz’jin let out that deep laugh again, and nearly bowled the elf over with a friendly slap on his armored back. “S’arite elfy. Wat’s ya name, eh?”
Ty’s chest involuntarily puffed as he recited, “Adept Tythanion Sunborne, first heir to House Sunborne and Adept of the Blood Knight order!” He couldn’t help a proud grin and added, “but you can call me Ty.”
Taz’jin watched the elf, chewing his tusk thoughtfully. “Ty. Righ’. An’ a Blood Knight…so ya say.” His practiced eye took in the armor, the tabard, the sword, the satchel of books. “But de arma fit, an’ de tabard’s tailored. F’ya be a fake, ya be a good one.”
“I am NOT a fake! A holy paladin of the Light does not lie!”
Taz’jin almost laughed again, but caught himself as he looked into the fiercely earnest face. “…Righ.’ How old be ya, Ty?”
The paladin winced for the briefest moment, but drew himself up quickly, and met the troll’s eye to answer, “eighty-two.”
“Eigh’y two? Das barely a child fa ya mon, eh?” His lips twitched into a small smile, and there was no mistaking the challenge behind it.
But instead of insult, or even indignation, the elf’s gaze dropped to the study the toes of his impeccably polished boots. “Aye. I am not yet of age.” There was a pregnant pause, and he set his jaw, meeting the troll’s eyes again. “But I have passed my trials, I have earned the right to call myself paladin and Blood Knight, and I serve the most holy Light!”
Taz absorbed this small diatribe, gnawing pensively at his tusk as he eyed the proud boy. (For whatever age he might be in years, there was no mistaking that he was a boy.) “So ya be,” he said finally. “An’ so ya do.”
They stared at each other for what seemed like several minutes, and it was the elf that finally broke the silence between them. “Why do you come to these old ruins, troll? Are you a member of the Reliquary, or…?”
Taz bit back several indignant and colorful curses that were on the tip of his tongue—boy, he’s just a boy!—but couldn’t help a sneer. “I done work fa dem in my time, but I got no need ta ‘study’ dis place—or lead anya ya kind ta it.” Off the elf’s absurdly quizzical look, he added, “dis be a sacred place, a place’a worship an’ bargainin.’ Dis be why I come.”
Unexpectedly, the elf’s eyes lit up, shining green and bright in the torchlight. “You are a priest! A troll priest! A priest of your…your…” His teeth clenched as he fought to pull forth the proper word. “…a priest of your spirit creatures!”
Taz almost corrected him, almost began to explain the difference between mere spirits and true loa, between a priest and a shadow hunter…but the elf’s eager face told him that would end in a barrage of more questions than he was prepared to reasonably field at the moment. “…Sure. Sure, I be someting like a priest, ya.”
“And you’re here honoring your tribe’s spirits?”
The troll passed a hand briefly over his face, massaging his temple for a moment. “Close enough, ya.”
“WELL then!” Ty grinned triumphantly, and began unclasping the fasteners of his boots. “Well! It seems that the Light has guided me truly once again! I am not too late!”
Taz cocked his head, eyeing the elf suspiciously as the latter continued to busy himself with removing his footwear. “Too late fa…elfy, why de fel ya takin’ off ya shoes?”
Ty glanced up as he pulled a boot off, and set it neatly outside of the temple’s entryway. “Well. You are not wearing foot coverings. I assume it is customary to remove them before entering your spirit’s holy place?”
“Elfy. Ya ain’ comin’ inta Nalorakk’s temple. ‘Specially not while a shadow hunta be makin’ offerin’s ta ‘im.”
The elf stopped, halfway through the motion of depositing his left boot alongside the right. “But…I mean no offense…”
The plea was so abject in its honestly and confusion that Taz found himself speaking gently, rather than with the mocking tone that the elf’s statement deserved. “Elfy…” he sighed rubbing his face again as he slid down into a confortable crouch in the temple’s entryway, “look elfy. Watcha say ya name be again?”
Ty raised his chin. “Tythanion Sunborne.”
“Tyh—Tithan—Ty. Look Ty. Ya elfies an’ dere troll wars be de reason dis temple be abandoned, an’ why our sacred land—“
“Your people?” Ty snorted. “But you’re hardly one of those Amani savages—you’ve no plants growing on you.”
Taz’s eyes narrowed, and his voice became suddenly very calm, and dangerously precise. “All trolls be bruddas, boy, an’ de loa look afta us all. Jes because Vol’jin be wise, an’ chose ta hona de Darkspea oat’ ta de Horde don’ mean dat Zul’jin’s dream be wrong—or dead. It jes ain’ found de righ’ time yet. …But it will. Do ya undastand wat I be sayin,’ lighty-elfy? Or do dese tusks make it too hard fa dose pretty elfy ears ta really hear wen onea my kind speaks true?”
The elf remained standing during this monologue, frozen in fascination rather than fear. Though the words were twisted and garbled in that awkward trollish accent, still Ty could feel the undercurrent of power—of power and of longing--under them; like some small piece of the ancient words carried on the wind that had drawn him to this site in the first place. “…No,” he said finally. “No, I don’t understand.”
Taz blinked, the simple and honest answer draining all the righteous indignation from him in a heartbeat. “No, elfy. No ya don.’”
There was another silence, and again it was the elf that spoke first. “What were you praying for, priest?” he asked. “Why were you appealing to your spirits tonight?”
“Eh…” Taz shook his head, pushing himself to his feet and stretching as he spoke. “Eh. I was honorin’ Nalorakk. De Great Bear. Askin’ ‘im ta guide a mon I’d see as Chief’a my Warband. Ta grow in’s heart an’ give ‘im de courage ta lead like a Warchief gotta.”
“A good prayer. A worthy prayer.” He nodded once, almost to himself, as if a decision had been made. “Very well. Troll: I would pray with you.”
“Ya—eh. …Wat?”
“It is a worthy and honorable prayer you send to your bear spirit. I would pray with you, in the name of the Light, on behalf of your noble supplication.”
“Elfy, I don’ tink de loa an’ de Light—”
“Not in your temple of course. I understand that is not open to those not of your faith, and I respect that. Out here is perfectly suitable.” He gestured to the forest behind him. “Assuming that your spirit animals do not require a temple in order to hear you.”
“Uh…no. No dey don.’ …Elfy…”
“Good. The Light does not either. Though certainly a holy place helps put one in the right frame of mind, the Light is, of course, omnipresent.”
“Righ’…elfy…”
They were walking now, deeper into the forest, until they reached what Ty judged would be a safe and respectful distance from the troll temple. Taz watched, somewhere between awe and utter confusion, as the elf, still barefoot, fell to a knee in the cool grass and reverently removed an old, battered tome from his belt. “Light that shines upon all bel—ah, upon all creatures: hear the prayers of this noble troll on behalf of his fellow, as his troll-spirits hear him. Give his Warband the strength and courage…”
As he prayed, before Taz’s disbelieving eyes, the elf began to glow. Not so brightly that it would have been notable had it not been so dark…and of course the troll had seen more than a few paladins in battle that shone brighter than the sun itself. But a paladin—an elf paladin!—here, outside of Nalorakk’s temple! Shining with the Light as he prayed for some strange troll! It was almost enough to make him think that Jan’alai was playing some kind of trick, trying to drive him mad.
But this ‘vision’ did not fade, and the elf continued to gently glow, and pray. Finally, in wonder, Taz sank to his knees beside the elf, pulling out a small bit of raw meat and an incense burner that was quickly and reverently lit. None of these preparations stopped the soft torrent of prayers from the elf, and very shortly, the sound of deep Zandali chanting rose to mesh with the Orcish in harmonious counterpoint.
And there they stayed, the child of Light and child of shadow, willing their prayers into the wide open heavens until the moon rose high, and the incense was little more than a memory on the biting tongue of the wind.