POOHEAD189

Fortune & Glory: Grimdark Pulp RP

The two ascended out of the depression, Beren giving Jocasta his hand twice and Jo having to call upon her magics once to keep him from sliding down the steep decline, but the ziggurat loomed over them even when they stepped out of the precipice and onto more solid ground. There always seemed to be something going on with them, it was as if the Evergod himself had cursed their adventures. But ever the optimist, Beren tried to rationalize that perhaps this would have occurred regardless, and maybe they were here to make sure it did not get out of control. It was a quaint thought, though he had been through enough trials in his life even before he had met Jo to know insane circumstances could be behind any corner.

Trudging across the landscape, they followed the sinking sun, keeping close just in case something tried to suck or yank one of them down a concealed hole in the earth. The sky was red like blood, and the wind coiled around them fervently, as if it had a mind of its own. Beren was happy for the heat, he had always been a man who liked hotter weather. But not usually dry heat, and the longer they climbed over collapsed dunes and cracked earth, the more uneasy he became. He decided talking and sharing the last of their water could distract from the near hopeless trek to find a settlement. The moon was a distant figure behind the gleam of red in the sky.

"Where do you think we are?" He asked her, passing the water flask. Jocasta finishing tying up her hair in a pony tail and took a long, well deserved drink.

"Well, hard to say considering it was magic that brought us here. We could be in the Southlands, we could be in the Moltepny Stretch. I know the languages, or at least more than what's probably healthy for someone my age, but I haven't traveled to any of these locations before. How about you?" She handed the flask back. Beren took another sip from the skin and then slid it back in his belt, running a hand through his dark mane of hair. His chin and upper lip was starting to get dark from a lack of shaving, though it was not quite true facial hair yet. Unlike his dwarven found family, he did not grow facial hair quickly or thickly.

"I didn't go to an academy, but I do know a few bits of aradian. I liked reading the old stories so I wanted to learn, and a bit of Anu'sarian, but I probably shouldn't-"

"Say those outloud, yeah." Jocasta agreed, wiping the sweat from her brow. They were coming closer to some rocky outcroppings, and it was only when Beren looked up at the buttes did he really stare past them into the sky. The sun was finally touching the horizon, and he peered across the broken landscape with his fine eyesight, before blinking.

"Jo?" He asked. She gave a 'hmmm?' and looked at him, and Beren thrust his chin forward. She turned to look, and after a few moments searching, she blinked as well. Beren spoke for her, knowing she saw what he did. The horizon was not red. "Did you...ever notice the clouds were colored like blood?" He asked, his voice wavering.

"That...can't be right." She breathed, reaching into her pack and fishing for something, only to groan when she couldn't find the right tome, clasping it closed again. "What could make the clouds-" her question halted when she gasped, and drew closer to Beren in fear. He looked at her clinging, and pointed emphatically. "The moon!"

Beren felt something in his chest sieze, but he kept himself together and looked around until he glanced to the west, and nearly jumped back. He felt a cold fear run up his spine. It had grown closer somehow, past the rocks, and through he knew it was not possible, no matter how hard he closed or rubbed his eyes, it did not go away. They walked over to the rocks and put the large stones between them and the celestial body, but Beren peered around the corner again, and was met with the same eerie sight.

As he looked at the moon, the moon looked back.

"What the hell is happening?" Jocasta asked incredulously. "It's not an illusion, I would have been able to tell with the flows. It's like...a portent." The last words were like a bell's chime in her mind, and as crows cawed overhead, she began to search through her pack again, thumbing through books until she pulled out a leather bound volume locked in a silver-steel padlock. She whispered a few words, and it popped open. "I might be able to find something in here, or at least glean a bit of what could cause the blood clouds."

"And what could give the moon a face?" Beren asked as another crow cawed. There was a flutter of wings, and as Jocasta fished through her book of lore, Beren looked up to see three, eight, two dozen crows fly overhead. They were followed by hundreds more. The caws became malicious cries and screeches, as tens of thousands of black feathered crows flooded the sky overhead in a wave of torturous sounds that pierced the ears. Beren was poking Jo to look up, but she had already closed her book and watched in rapt fascination as the avian creatures flooded the sky.

One dropped down before them, tilting its head and squawking. Jocasta held her book out to use as a bludgeoning device, just in case, but Beren and her froze when they looked into the crows eyes. It hopped to the left, and cawed at the empty rock wall beside them, for it could not see. Its eyes were milky white. The two adventurers shared a look, and then decided not to speak as it hopped away, flapping its wings and crying out before fleeing into the air once again. The pair did not move for an hour, until the crows had exhausted their numbers in their great migration, and darkness had descended upon the sky.

They walked for another two hours, walking under a watchful moon. The eyes and mouth of the celestial object never moved, they were simply there, carved or magicked or planted there by something with the power to shape reality itself. But they needed the moon, for as they walked, they noticed the blood clouds had vanished, but they had taken the stars with them. There was not a cloud in the night sky, and yet no stars were present. They had vanished as surely as the crows and the clouds, and now only the moon remained to grant them the light that led them to the walled settlement of Dikmar.

The gates had been closed, but the sentries along the walls carried torches and patrolled circuitously, calling to one another in their native tongue. Jocasta and Beren were a bowshot away, but they had not yet been spotted. Before Beren could announce themselves, Jocasta placed a hand on her muscled arm and asked him to let her handle it. He kept his mouth shut, having learned to respect her intelligence whenever she was confident in what needed to be done. She gave a soft call in a tongue he did not understand. It sounded similar to Aradian, but it was not the same. A bellowing cry echoed from the walls, followed by another. Jocasta spoke back, only to get shot back with another long diatribe from the town. Beren could not understand, though he really tried. The cadence was different, and there seemed to be only a few loan words, most of them just beyond the cusp of his understanding. It was actually somewhat frustrating. Generally people thought of Beren as intelligent when they got to know him, but Jocasta was one of the few people who not only had grown to know him, but seemed to have much more unique knowledge than Beren, who felt like a charlatan in comparison. Next to her, he really did feel like the muscle bound himbo people accused him of behind his back.

It was only a brief thought for the moment, however, and after a few more traded words, the gates opened.

"How did you get them to let us in?" He asked her.

She grinned, looking back up at him. "I'll tell you later after a bath. Oh, and the town's called Dikmar. I don't even think they know what it means." Jocasta giggled.

At Beren's questioning look, she winked: "It's Snake Cock in Pharonic."

Heroes of The Guard: A Warhammer 40K RP

I took her meaning immediately. I could only imagine was sort of tongue lashing I might get back at base, and so I took the piece of blank paper, cleared my throat, and opened it, staring at the blank whiteness as if it was a document I was pressed to read. "Ah, of course. Well, duty calls, as I always say." I turned to the gentry and gave them a tip of my hat, before granting the lady governor a sweeping bow, and finishing off my farewell ritual with a wink to the Arsenault. I was a fool to encourage her, but I had never been someone to eschew flirtation, and she was rather fetching in that dress. "Regrettably I must take my leave, but I shall return in two nights as you have so graciously granted me the invitation."

After a few more farewells, Sel and I exited the hall and left the corridor, only to bump into two sentries who looked put-off by the appearance of the Corporal before seeing I was accompanying her. They likely did not know me by reputation, even my exploits could not have spread so quickly, but they had greeted the Governess and the accompanying body, with my in their entourage, when I had first approached hours before.

"At ease, gentleman" Sel told them cooly, and they shifted uncomfortably as they parted before us, letting the two of us step into the waiting vehicle parked by the curb. Corporal Sel opened the door for me to enter, and I slid in, before she closed it and then hopped into her seat. Within minutes, we were speeding out of the palace grounds and onto the congested streets of Balor; congested of course, because of the tightly knit buildings that loomed overhead like unwanted teachers at the academy, not that the streets were overly crowded. The city sported strange florescent lights that dotted the buildings, replacing a single story of windows to give a trail of lights, though many groundcars, military vehicles, and street lamps were lit, cutting through the monotony of it.

"I apologize for not being there to help set the platoon up. I wish I had, but I couldn't get away from the Governess." I explained, though I was not certain just as to why I was giving the Corporal one. Of course, the other half of me knew exactly why. Because I was the bloody damned lieutenant and it was my throne damned job.

"We know where to go sir, there was no mishaps. No need to explain," She said, and though any soldier might have fed their superior officer the same bullshit, I found I believed her. She turned left up a slimmer street, likely to cut through the traffic. I turned the heat up a bit more, longing for being able to stay in my warm quarters tonight. The planet was cold as deep space, but at least it was an easy posting. I would head back, conduct the sentry screen along the coordinates I had pre-laid upon the map, and then retire for the evening. I yawned, and gave a sigh as I sat back, the lights like a distant rhythm of stars.

There was a loud pop, and our vehicle suddenly careened to the left, its back end whipping to the right, colliding with a parked aircar with the force of a thunderhammer. My eyes jolted open, and instinctively I reached for my bolt pistol as we hit the curb and landed on the sidewalk. A couple that had been enjoying an evening walk screamed and ran off, but as Sel cursed under her breath and checked the gauge of the vehicle, I saw the man and woman fall to the ground from well placed lasbolts.

"Sir, are you alright?" Sel asked, but she saw my look and knew what I was going to say before I even had the chance to.

"Get down, we're under fire!"

Scum and Villainy [Firefly/Cowboy Bebop/Star Wars Inspired, Forged in the Dark]

Other people looking at this interest check: As of this post I'm still open to another player or two, so feel free to let me know if you're interested.

@ctrlsaltdel

I guess I can check my schedule...

Darkhearts: A Forgotten Realms RP

Amal was buzzed, but not quite drunk. He felt a pleasant, warm feeling as Charynrae spoke to him in her special manner. A part of him was glad he had been plucked out of the moonsea and dropped here in the frigid north. Yes, the last few weeks had been a tenth hell, but he had not had to run from Calishite pursuers any longer, and he had met a pretty companion, exotic and intelligent. He had never been one for courtesans, and all relationships in his past had never lasted long, from both his dangerous career and his flightiness. But somehow, this felt different, and he realized that tidbit even before he realized she was flirting back at him.

Ibrandul's Cloak! The thief thought. He had expected her to push him away. She had always kept herself closed off, even from him. Granted, this was not the normal coquetry he was used to. But he had to admit he kind of liked her haughty evaluation of him moreso than the usual coy game. The fact he passed made him feel far more accomplished than if she simply attempted to butter him up. What's more, she kept complimenting him, and he felt a thrill with each new word. He had wondered if her claiming he would fit in the Underdark an insult or not, but it became clear she meant it as a compliment, in her way.

When she called him pretty enough for a human, he grinned widely. "I also do tricks..." He remarked wryly. The idea of capturing a bookworm, something he had never heard of until now, was cordoned off into the back of his mind for later. For now, he was occupied with more important matters.

He curled his left hand and placed it under her chin gingerly. "You're more honest than any surface woman I know, and more valuable a companion too."

Perhaps it was the heat of the moment before the plunge, but he had not expected himself to say that last part, yet he felt he meant every word. His hand slid behind her neck to cradle it, gently playing with her silvery white hair as her red eyes drew him in. He kissed her, slowly at first, but with each new breathe, his lips parted wider and his tongue found hers.

Wealth and Warpstorms

Alcander followed the eccentric woman through the halls, wondering more than once if she was taking the long way to mess with him. They had used a lot of side arches and entrances that seemed tertiary, though granted, they were still larger than any doorway or even roadway on Caledon. He was yet again amazed at how large and ornate everything was, gazing at the baroque walls of gilded steel with the imperial heraldry of skulls and eagles, as well as the vast chasms filled with the infinite steel veins of the ship. Finally they descended a small stairway, framed by another a dozen meters away, and before them was what Alcander assumed was the cogitator.

All of the spacious and sweeping architecture gave him a bit of nostalgia. He had done the right thing in leaving the life, but despite the dangers and the cruelty, he had truly lived some wondrous moments in his time, chasing mutants through the wastes of Raokos, to apprehending rebel aristocrats in the upper hives, and even catching a rare glimpse of the enigmatic eldar on a space hulk. For a brief moment, he wondered that if he should prove himself, he could sign himself on as a freelancer for the Lady Camilla, but he threw the thought away immediately. He was done with all of this, despite the allure.

"Here we are!" Jocasta exclaimed, fanning her hands out towards the cogitator. Alcander looked the massive contraption up and down. The display was easily five meters wide, green text splayed across the screen, framed by what could have been the pipes of some archaic organ, but no doubt part of its sophisticated make. Jocasta approached the device, logging on with her access codes. "So, is this for business or pleasure?"

"Hoo did ye coom inte th' ledies service?" Alcander asked her curiously, producing the Servo-Skull and handing it to her. She reached into a small alcove of the base of the machine and pulled out various wires, her hips shimmying playfully as she did so.

"Sorry, you don't have enough points to unlock by tragic backstory. But don't be offended, we just met twenty minutes ago." Jocasta popped back out with a neural transmitter that had a very uncomfortable looking spike at the center of its skull dome. She hooked it up to the servo-skull, the appendage shooting in with a visceral smacking sound. "Luckily, I know all about you. Don't look at me like that, who do you think helped our future Queen find your little brass self?"

"Net my future queen." Alcander reminded her, leaning over the segmented steel wiring and using what knowledge he had retained post-retirement to see if he could find the right synaptics. Logitec text filled the screen, but despite the enormous power and capabilities of this cog, he had checked servo-skulls for feeds before. Jocasta pulled back and crossed her arms, watching the screen as the green light splayed across both of their faces, interrupted by the occasional darkness when the display switched screens. Finally, Alcander found what he was looking for, and a minimized square pulled up on the screen, showcasing the scene of the crime. As the feed continued, Alcander and Jo's faces went from inquisitive to stunned. Alcander and Jo turned to one another.

"We have to get to the bridge, now." They said in unison.

Fortune & Glory: Grimdark Pulp RP

"So we both unleashed an ancient evil..." Beren concluded, lifting Jo's leg as a tendril of the mist swept by. The warrior monk decided to just pick her up and set her near the center of the small chamber.

"So what do we do?" Jocasta asked him, finally snapping out of her reverie and seeing the room was swiftly growing an unclean and unnatural aura. She shivered, her magical senses more attuned to such things than Beren. Down the hall, there was a crack like lightning, and ill green light flashed against the stone walls as something stirred.

"I don't know!" Beren laughed incredulously, just appreciating how crazy every situation they got themselves in was.

"What do you mean!? This is your expertise! I excavate, you dungeon dive! You lived with dwarves underground, right?" She asked, and bonked his head multiple times with her fist as if she was knocking on a door. To Jo's surprise, it actually seemed to put an idea in her companion's head. He abruptly turned around and leaped over a stream of mist, skidding on the sandy floor before the opposite wall. Jocasta followed, keeping close to Beren's back as a low, inhuman moan escaped from down the corridor. Beren knocked his knuckles against the wall, listening intently and watching the imperfections on the sandstone as he did so. He was no dwarf, who's very anatomy helped them find flaws in stone, but he had learned enough.

He tapped again, and the darkly handsome warrior smiled. "Keep clear," he warned her, and Jocasta slipped to the side, not wanting to back up too much. Beren closed his eyes, drawing in a long breath. His hands spun in a circuitous motion, performing an intricate set of hand movements that seemed almost a strange version of spellcasting, taking fifteen full seconds of the odd ritual, ending with his left hand palm out, his right hand curled into a fist and pulled back.

"Beren?" Jocasta asked, but he couldn't hear her, his concentration absolute. After another heartbeat, he struck the stone wall. Jocasta gave a yelp as she felt the wind from the blow. Immediately the wall fell apart, or at least a sizeable portion of it, tearing through the stone like a sword slicing through parchment. Jocasta clapped as Beren drew in another breath, and they felt a small gust of heat and a bit of sunlight on their feet. Beren and Jocasta leaped into the next room. It was a long mausoleum with a dozen stone coffins on the left and right, and at the end was a wooden doorway barely kept together. Along the coffins were carvings of different figures of strength and elegance, each with brass and silver torques adorned on their necks.

"You'll have to tell me how you did that." Jocasta said, glancing back at the shattered stone and giving a whistle.

"I have this wonderful meal plan."

"I've noticed," she said, pinching his left pec. "but like..."

"You can plumb the depths of me later, for now we should get scarce unless we want to make friends with whatever is waking up." He declared, and as if on cue, their banter was interrupted as another flash of eldritch light erupted behind them. It hissed like a huge serpent, and the stone coffins before them began to rumble, though whether by some magic or something within them was fighting to get out, they did not wait to find out. The two adventurers sprinted down the corridor, running for all they were worth. Suddenly a large stone tile dropped before them, and to anyone who had not been constantly delving into dungeons the past two months, it would have been fatal. There looked to be no bottom in sight. But Beren leaped like a gazelle and Jocasta jumped with practiced precision, hitting the ground in a roll. Both recovered simultaneously, and they shoulder rushed into the ancient wooden door, breaking it into kindling. They reached the light of the desert sun and the heat of this strange new land.

Blackguards!

I'm still here and ready!

Heroes of The Guard: A Warhammer 40K RP

"Must I continue? It was so hot and bloody, and while I am honored to serve the Emperor, I feel like a visceral story as this could ruin the appetites of my esteemed hosts," I temporized politely, smiling as if I was doing them a reluctant service and not trying to keep myself from getting caught in a lie. Plus if I kept talking, I could not enjoy the delightful sliders they had prepared along with the wine. A magnificent vintage, and I know my wines.

Were were in one of the smaller halls of the palace, having entered through a white and gold porte-cochère. I thought it quite reminiscent of an alternative gothic take of Belle Époque, but I was no expert. I sat near the roaring fireplace, and above the sweeping lip above the yawning pit was an enormous painting of the famous Lament of The Risen, a picturesque image of the Emperor gazing down upon Terra with a face of pity. Deemed risque in some more harsh circles, it was meant to capture his wish for the potential of mankind in a universal reality that might never be. Above us were a half a dozen six lighted chandeliers of hand painted frame accompanied with the sparkle of faceted cut crystal, however they were so high up the room still felt warm and low, as if this was a private affair. In some ways it was, I suppose.

The rotund Baron Buelmarqous had whispered to me all night of the varying illicit instances of haberdashery in the capital whilst Count Adelmar seemed unsure if he wished to duel me or ask me to marry his daughter, who to my great relief was not present. Constable Marshal Hamish, apparently from off-world but a staple in the modern cabinet of ministers, kept grilling me for stories of my family's history and my own experiences of warfare which many gave enthusiastic support for. Unfortunately, for my unyielding vice, Baroness Arsenault of the southern sector seemed particularly interested, who confessed her husband worked too long and left her with little to do except sport a decollete dress of satin at the capital, making eyes at young officers. It was a particular sort of hell, for if I gave in to her considerable charms she could steal more than my honor and give a headache I would lose my position for. The Governess had listened to my stories with an admirable patience, though I could tell something in them interested her and even I was not so arrogant to think it was myself.

The party did not necessarily come to a screeching halt, but I did not need to look up to see someone uninvited had entered. I set my wine down, wondering with my obscene paranoia if it was the MP's having come to gather me, but instead to my delight I saw Corporal Sel there. Admittedly seeing her in dress uniform was much like seeing an Tyranid in an inquisitorial uniform. Certainly something I did not expect. However, I was quite glad to have her rescue me. I was too green on this planet for me to make a character out of myself in front of the rulership, and so I took to my feet despite the calls to sit down and the pleading of lady Arsenault.

"Duty calls, eh?" Baron Buelmarqous remarked with a knowing wink, as if he had ever seen a lick of action or service besides what he pays his expensive whores.

I decided to change the topic rather than give more assurances of my having to leave. Redirection was easier, I found. I glided over to my trusty Corporal and genuflected lightly, indicating Sel to the gathered aristocracy. "May I present Corporal Seldon, whom I spoke about. A hero of the people!"

"Oh, so she is the one that killed the big ork with its own tusk?" The Governess asked, amused. "I imaged she would be taller, but she does appear formidable."

"The Corporal is as loyal and dutiful as any man who serves." I assured them, hoping Sel would say a few words so we could be on our way before I was asked to regale them with another tale of my grandfather's hunting expeditions.

Heroes of The Guard: A Warhammer 40K RP

I admit, I was conflicted.

On the one hand, I joined the guard in no small part because I wished to rise on my own merits, rather than the privilege of my birth. I might be a bit vain on my looks, though I've had enough interest by the fairer sex for it to be considered a relatively safe bet I was handsome. I might be gifted in various other areas as well, a quick study and a skilled blade, but I would rather prove I can be of use to the wider galaxy, rather than merely reap the benefits of my familial luck. On the other hand, however, I had a weakness for attention, and the Colonel had given me this equine had he not? What were they supposed to think? I had, in fact, halted the Ork WAAAGH before it had even begun, along with my platoon. Should I not also milk this opportunity?

As I watched the planetary Governor and her entourage of courtiers and ministers descending the stairs to greet me, I felt a healthy middle ground was the best path at this juncture. I glanced behind me, and to my surprise, the regiment was forming at my wings, as if I were the Colonel. I saw the Colonel's Salamander, but my look was too brief to spot him amongst the officers. An aide took my reins, and I dismounted with one, fluid movement.

"Colonel, you do us great honor by presenting yourself on such a fine beast," a man said. Kayden guessed he was the chief minister judging by his apparel and ornamentation.

"Kalazar, look again," The Governess said. It had to be her. Blonde of hair with an ageless look one recieved from rejuvenat treatment, and a red diadem on her brow. "He does not appear to be the commander." This caused a number of murmurs amongst her entourage, but they knew better than to interrupt. I knew better than to try and outsmart her, and so I decided to give a simple version of the truth that was merely skewed. Around us, the column and the palace guard had taken their positions, ensconcing us in rows upon rows of watching men. "Who greets us instead of the Colonel, as is tradition?"

"I am lord Kayden Caladwarden." I saw their brows raise and visages ease at the pronouncement of my aristocratic blood. "Lieutenant of the 2nd Gendermes and Prince of Abelorn. My Colonel was gracious enough to allow me his place of honor, as I distinguished myself, along with my men, on Kaurava III against an Ork WAAAGH. He knew I had some small skill with a thoroughbred and allowed me to requisition this fine steed in his infinite generosity, boorish though I am. Allow me to say, my lady, I have heard tales of your beauty and they have not done you justice." I then genuflected in a manner only a painting could give justice. Perhaps I was laying it on a bit thick, but to my surprise, I was not met with acceptance or denial, but a laugh. The Governess gave a delightful chortle, and bade I rise before her.

"Very good, my Lord. I look forward to hearing of your exploits. I can forgive this transgression from the flattery alone." She said.

Fortune & Glory: Grimdark Pulp RP

Head still swimming, at least he wasn't actually swimming any longer. Wherever they were, it was dry like a desert. However, what haunted Beren more was how they got here in the first place. The last thing he remembered was swimming to catch up to Jocasta, who's limp form was being pulled into the abyssal depths of the underworld lake. He rubbed his head and groggily asked "What happened?" as the earring drones he gifted to Jocasta lit up like fireflies and twirled around them to illuminate the small chamber. It also basked Jocasta's pretty face in light, showing his looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

"You were being a numbskull." She said, pushing him, albeit playfully. The woman then squared her shoulders and thrust her chest out in an attempt to mimic Beren, as if she did not already have a considerable chest herself. "Oh I'm Beren, I'm big, handsome, and strong and I'm going to throw myself into danger to save Jo without any backup plan!" Her imitation was not horrible, but she did speak with a clumsier, dimwitted cadence to drive the point home, before she deflated and crossed her arms. " Now, did we learn anything?"

"You think I'm handsome?" He replied, fluttering his lashes.

"Don't be fake with me!" She reprimanded, leaping on him to wrestle. Beren cried out as the two tumbled. It was hard to tell when Jocasta was serious at first, but he knew now she was just worried, trying to play it off as scolding. "Bet those abs aren't even real! Oh, wait no they are. But you still get what I mean!"

"Hey! Me saving you has worked so far! I'm not the one that got sucked down by a water spirit!" He shot back, rolling ontop of her.

"Don't use that wording!" She said, but she was laughing. "I've saved you plenty!"

"You ha-" He was going to assure her, but she sneezed, and there was a puff of smoke that stung his senses for the quickest moment. Somewhere in that instant, he couldn't feel her under him anymore, and when he heard her clearing her throat, he turned to the left to see her bowing theatrically, a cloth in her hand. Beren was speechless for a second, impressed. "How did you do that?"

She lifted the cloth, wrapped it around her rump and grabbed the other end, pulling it back and forth. Beren realized it was the sarong he had given her. "You sure you were raised by dwarves? Every time you find something valuable you give it away." She said with a wink.

He gave her a lopsided smile. "Just to you."

Her humor fled, and there was actually a blush on her face. As much as he wanted to pursue further, the enclosed chamber with what probably had limited air was not the place to do it. He got to his feet and wiped sand off his chest and shoulders. Jocasta followed his gaze to the wall, and the the earrings flew closer, lighting up the sandstone to reveal pictogram inscriptions lining the wall. Beren did not recognize him, but Jocasta seemed drawn to it. "Speaking of dwarves, remember when I translated dwarf runes for you? Your turn..."