>>5465765Having tormented your childhood tormenter sufficiently, and secured a ‘plus-one’ for the upcoming Winter Ball, you set about making the two of you presentable to mixed company at such a function. This vital diplomatic exercise requires multiples steps, each integral to your over all plan, to execute.
“You are ENJOYING this,” the Novice sulks. “Is it my suffering you delight in, Dragonborn, or are you simply going native, surrounded by your fellow primates?”
You hiss at the Novice to shush herself, though none of your present company is likely to understand her. You have gathered together in the home of one of your expanding flock of followers—one of the parents of the scaled children—and commanded the new acolytes to attest to their faith by vacating their hut for use as a space of dance tutelage. Accompanying you are your tutor (the Lancer) and your bard (the Throat-singer, of course).
Both remain studiously stone-faced at the bickering of you two dancers. Hamaraska smiles only slightly at the clumsiness with which you begin your movements together, slowly moving to the tune of the Throat-singer’s curious, tremulous tune.
“This… Is not exactly like what you’ll experience at the Ball,” the elf notes in their Dark Elven. “This music is quite unusual. Can your bard play string instruments?”
You translate, and Karz sighs and shakes his head.
“I can sort of play the bagpipes,” he volunteers in Northern Common-tongue, the only language you and he share.
You translate.
“The what?”
More translation ensues.
“Ah,” Hamaraska replies. “Uh, no, I don’t think that will help. This is a waltz, not a jig.”
“Gods damn you, Dragonborn, can you not teach your servants PROPER speech?!” the Novice demands in True Speech.
“You speak Northern Common-tongue,” you note.
“The music already grates on my ears. Why should the words as well?”
You can see the real source of her annoyance: you are mastering the steps much faster than her. She is embarrassed to be floundering so visibly in front of her lesser. Perhaps it is your earlier (Albeit drunken and half-serious) practice with the Lancer. Maybe it’s your aptitude for athleticism—dancing I not SO different from the practice of swordplay, as far as footwork is concerned, if you can adjust your mindset. Maybe… It’s your mammalian heritage?
>+1 Dance 