#dralli

Grudge, Throat, Weak, Relief and Smell!

Feel [Mere-Sa tapping into the collective consciousness of the Hist]

Like the roiling head of a thunderstorm, thoughts of a great presence make themselves known to them. The three siblings wail a song of sadness and mourning for their fourth. They taste the blood of theirr children as it spills and seeps into their roots, They lash out in rage, but can’t rationalize why such a tragedy could occur. Their children’s eyes saw drywalkers- Dark Elves and a Nord, snakes shedding their skins to hide their intentions. Surely they must be the ones tapping their sibling's blood and boiling it in great vats of hot iron!

It’s overwhelming, Mere-Sa feels like a capsized boat in the midst of a tempest. Heita-Meen clings to them so as to not be lost in the turmoil. Together they swim forward until their scales scrape against worn bark.

Lose [Mere-Sa and Dralli after successfully saving the like of Jorunn Skald-King]

The king called for them in his sick bed, four days after his brother was killed. Reports from captains came in that they successfully intercepted the southern Stormfist army as they prepared to assault Windhelm. The armies of the Pact standing together were no match for them, even whilst Covenant backed. The Crown of Freydis was lost amidst the chaos, maybe it would be something for future generations to delve for.

“And that’s…it?” Mere-Sa asked.

Dralli shrugged. “Usually how it goes.”

Blind [Dralli contemplating her existence]

     What was she? She had died. The first Dralli died. (The second one too, she uncomfortably remembered the momentary flash of blinding pain in her skull as Magistrix Vox brought Judgement down.) The Prophet claimed her body was created by Molag Bal and animated with the blood of Coldharbour. The Prophet had given her anuic energy she needed to attune to Nirn. (Another reason she hates Varen, he’s the reason she exists, and that isn’t a debt you can easily repay.) 

         So, what does that make her? Daedric? Mortal? Something in between? Fragments of a fucked-up person created by Molag Bal and an ex-emperor. A person wearing the face and memories of a dead woman. Something unnaturally wrong.

A Vestige.

Shake [Mere-Sa managing their first scouting mission]

The scouting mission was cold, wet, and painfully isolated- at least for Mere-Sa. The dead-growth forest had given way to a strangely icy swamp, with a strong sense of otherworldly eeriness about it, far different than the warm and humid swamps of their home. Ominous howls and yelps echoed from the dark and twisted branches. They made certain to have Kaju-Mota at their side the entire walk, it was reassuring to have a bear at your side. And Mere-Sa liked to grip onto his fur, so the others wouldn’t notice the shake of their hands. They were this troop’s leader, they needed to appear strong and in control.

Night [Casual dialogue]

“I smell the scent of embers in the air. You’ll be in for a treat if Kasura is teaching the firewalk.” 

“That sounds…gruesome,” Tharn said.

“The Flaming Nix had something like that. Free ale for a night if you could make it all the way across.” Dralli added.

“Did you try it?” Lyris asked.