[150 / 18 / 31]
Quoted By: >>5519250
The year is 1374 DR. Sixteen years have passed since the Time of Troubles, when the gods were made humble, and forced to wander the Realms as mortals. With the ascension of the mad god Cyric, Prince of Lies, and the recent return of the tyrant god Bane, Lord of Darkness, the future of Faerûn seems increasingly uncertain. It falls to bold individuals who possess an abundance of cunning, might, and determination to shape the future... should they be up to the challenge.
Having at last found the Eilistraeans and an unlikely ally along the way, you match Luaue's pace as the three of you proceed further into the desolate halls of the dwarven ruin. "I won't lie to you, sister. We have been hard pressed by ill luck these past few years, so forgive us if we cannot give you the welcome you deserve. We were driven from our home in the Silverwood by fanatics of the beast god. Most of us perished in the fighting, and those who escaped were turned away from the cities where we thought to seek shelter. Though there were once hundreds of us, only dozens now remain," she groans, her tone indicating that she has still yet to come to terms with her bereavement.
"I killed him" you mention nonchalantly, "The priest of Malar. The rest are dead too." You are not in the habit of pitying the dead, nor are not quite certain how you are to respond to her grief regardless. She comes to a stop and stares at your face, mouth agape. You raise a curious brow as she desperately searches your eyes for... something. "Truly?" She queries meekly. "You speak the truth?"
"Yes?" You state, puzzled by her reaction.
Balling her fists, the half-breed's breathing grows ragged as droplets well up in her eyes. Try as she might, Luaue is unable prevent herself from bursting into tears. Without warning, she throws her body against yours and presses her face against your shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably. "The gods are still just!" She cries hoarsely. "Long did we fear that they would never answer for the deaths of our loved ones," she stops to catch her breath mid-sentence, "but the goddess has delivered."
Having at last found the Eilistraeans and an unlikely ally along the way, you match Luaue's pace as the three of you proceed further into the desolate halls of the dwarven ruin. "I won't lie to you, sister. We have been hard pressed by ill luck these past few years, so forgive us if we cannot give you the welcome you deserve. We were driven from our home in the Silverwood by fanatics of the beast god. Most of us perished in the fighting, and those who escaped were turned away from the cities where we thought to seek shelter. Though there were once hundreds of us, only dozens now remain," she groans, her tone indicating that she has still yet to come to terms with her bereavement.
"I killed him" you mention nonchalantly, "The priest of Malar. The rest are dead too." You are not in the habit of pitying the dead, nor are not quite certain how you are to respond to her grief regardless. She comes to a stop and stares at your face, mouth agape. You raise a curious brow as she desperately searches your eyes for... something. "Truly?" She queries meekly. "You speak the truth?"
"Yes?" You state, puzzled by her reaction.
Balling her fists, the half-breed's breathing grows ragged as droplets well up in her eyes. Try as she might, Luaue is unable prevent herself from bursting into tears. Without warning, she throws her body against yours and presses her face against your shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably. "The gods are still just!" She cries hoarsely. "Long did we fear that they would never answer for the deaths of our loved ones," she stops to catch her breath mid-sentence, "but the goddess has delivered."
