Trog's Tavern CLV

[Holy-hunter]

Raeh caught the display of sadness sputtering from Reuma’s horns and slowly started to understand. She mentally noted that Reuma did not like to be compared to animals but showed no signs of sympathy or regret for her words.

She did however back off a bit and stopped teasingly playing with Reuma as she listened. Her idle hands continuing to flick the dagger around on the table. Fidgeting was a bad habit of hers that could make it appear like she wasn’t fully listening when in fact she was.

Raeh suddenly paused to raise an eyebrow
”flesh forest?” She questioned with a half contained giggle.
Raeh thought she might have heard of some of the creatures Reuma mentioned but the lands were not familiar. But lands often had many names. Raeh’s own world suddenly felt very small. She had been very single focused since coming here.

She suppressed memories as she continued to talk. Her voice going cold. The look in her face distant. Her eyes locked on the spinning blade going round and around. ”I am only half elf, but yes, I suppose elves have a natural affinity with creating efficient and beautiful things. It’s these lands that demand steel, the greed and depravity of the two legged animals that walk it force the simple code of survival. You must be ready to kill or be killed. Trying to avoid those two things only ends up a lot worse. So tell me, can you defend yourself? I know you think me a terror, and rightly so, but at least I am not three drunken men returning hungry from a failed hunting trip. Angry, long from home, frustrated, afraid to be seen as failures, fuelled with alcohol and then they see these.” Raeh points to Reuma’s horns with her knife. ”How would you protect yourself? What wyrdrune or weaving magics would hold off three large well armed men? This is the reality you have found yourself in.”

She knew it was cruel, but in her own way it was a kindness. A brutal honest kindness. A kindness she was never given.