Saga - Part IV
Feb. 11th, 2009 07:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
amarthielI brought her a bag of blue pearls, from Stranglethorn Vale. They weren't precisely payment, but she'd mentioned that she used them herself and it seemed only fair. I brought her a small pouch of malachite, inexpensively procured at the Auction House, and a handful of Stranglekelp, wrapped in damp silk in a small wooden box, and a few other bits and pieces to brew dyes. In my pack, I also had a number of hides and skins; some heavier ones and some finer, which were destined for a master Leatherworker of Amynnah's acquaintance.
I have never known loyalty. I've never sought to be noble or true. I have always been a pragmatist; doing what I must and no more, seeking to survive and be comfortable. And all of a sudden I decide to undertake this madness? I couldn't fathom my own decisions. The Druidess, I think, understood to some degree; but she could offer me no explanations.
I don't know to this day what she told her guild-sister; all I know is, i was told to contact another kaldorei by the name of Máme Menelril and give her a number of materials. I'd seen her work before; she made helms for her fellow Druids in the shape of lupine masks, and the craftsmanship was exquisite. I had perfect faith in her abilities, though I was a bit leery of explaining myself. Normally I'd have had faith in my ability to come up with a convincing lie... but something about this whole venture unsettled me.
Thankfully I did not have to explain anything- she took the package I handed her without a question. "Two weeks," she promised me, and headed back to her work... Two weeks for me to sit and question my sanity.
There was nothing I stood to gain, really, from going into Orgrimmar. And there was plenty to lose- if I were to be caught, I'd be killed. By either faction. The Horde would suspect me of being a spy; the Alliance would call me a traitor.
I spent my time studying what little I could of the Orc's language, as well as a couple of brief treatises on Trollish and Taurahe. I had no hope for fluency- understanding a few words of every sentence would be more than enough. I could manage, I thought, as a rather dull-witted fighter; I planned to seek training as a rogue, rather than continuing my own path. I've had enough experience, I wouldn't want to draw undue attention or progress too fast. Better to go with something new.
Eventually I returned to the two druids. Máme had outdone my wildest imagination, creating a mask and gloves lifelike enough that they nearly fooled me. The thick leather had gone to make the shape, and the finer to cover it; she'd treated it to look completely vibrant and fleshlike. The stitches on the seams were invisible, tiny, tight, and hidden in spots where the flesh would crease anyway. Her real mastery showed in the small details; the way the leather was thinned along the eye sockets and around the mouth, to allow for easier blending into my own skin; the thin eyebrows; the earrings fitted into the stiff leather ears. I thanked her profusely, but she refused payment; if nothing else I made a note to recommend her to anyone in need of fine crafting and refused to take any of the excess leather.
Amynnah had been no less industrious; she let me in and hurried to show me a number of potions and concoctions. The dyes she'd obviously delivered to her friend, but there was a cream pigment of the exact same shade to use on the exposed skin around my eyes, and with which I could blend the edge of the leather onto my own skin. The dried Bruiseweed and Swifthistle had become a kind of glue, she told me, which would keep the mask from slipping. There was another substance to dissolve the glue (Silverleaf and Wintersbite, I guessed, based on the scent.) And a handful of other things; and a list of what was what, in case I forgot. She'd also procured- I know not from where- some false teeth, which seemed to be carved of bone; I had never even considered the jutting lower fangs, or how to approximate them.
I headed back to my inn with a pack full of things I would never be able to explain. All that I was waiting on was my own readiness.
I have never known loyalty. I've never sought to be noble or true. I have always been a pragmatist; doing what I must and no more, seeking to survive and be comfortable. And all of a sudden I decide to undertake this madness? I couldn't fathom my own decisions. The Druidess, I think, understood to some degree; but she could offer me no explanations.
I don't know to this day what she told her guild-sister; all I know is, i was told to contact another kaldorei by the name of Máme Menelril and give her a number of materials. I'd seen her work before; she made helms for her fellow Druids in the shape of lupine masks, and the craftsmanship was exquisite. I had perfect faith in her abilities, though I was a bit leery of explaining myself. Normally I'd have had faith in my ability to come up with a convincing lie... but something about this whole venture unsettled me.
Thankfully I did not have to explain anything- she took the package I handed her without a question. "Two weeks," she promised me, and headed back to her work... Two weeks for me to sit and question my sanity.
There was nothing I stood to gain, really, from going into Orgrimmar. And there was plenty to lose- if I were to be caught, I'd be killed. By either faction. The Horde would suspect me of being a spy; the Alliance would call me a traitor.
I spent my time studying what little I could of the Orc's language, as well as a couple of brief treatises on Trollish and Taurahe. I had no hope for fluency- understanding a few words of every sentence would be more than enough. I could manage, I thought, as a rather dull-witted fighter; I planned to seek training as a rogue, rather than continuing my own path. I've had enough experience, I wouldn't want to draw undue attention or progress too fast. Better to go with something new.
Eventually I returned to the two druids. Máme had outdone my wildest imagination, creating a mask and gloves lifelike enough that they nearly fooled me. The thick leather had gone to make the shape, and the finer to cover it; she'd treated it to look completely vibrant and fleshlike. The stitches on the seams were invisible, tiny, tight, and hidden in spots where the flesh would crease anyway. Her real mastery showed in the small details; the way the leather was thinned along the eye sockets and around the mouth, to allow for easier blending into my own skin; the thin eyebrows; the earrings fitted into the stiff leather ears. I thanked her profusely, but she refused payment; if nothing else I made a note to recommend her to anyone in need of fine crafting and refused to take any of the excess leather.
Amynnah had been no less industrious; she let me in and hurried to show me a number of potions and concoctions. The dyes she'd obviously delivered to her friend, but there was a cream pigment of the exact same shade to use on the exposed skin around my eyes, and with which I could blend the edge of the leather onto my own skin. The dried Bruiseweed and Swifthistle had become a kind of glue, she told me, which would keep the mask from slipping. There was another substance to dissolve the glue (Silverleaf and Wintersbite, I guessed, based on the scent.) And a handful of other things; and a list of what was what, in case I forgot. She'd also procured- I know not from where- some false teeth, which seemed to be carved of bone; I had never even considered the jutting lower fangs, or how to approximate them.
I headed back to my inn with a pack full of things I would never be able to explain. All that I was waiting on was my own readiness.
