“I’m famished. But…” the red-haired elf muttered. She tarried and gingerly manipulated the berries.
She had company.
Two elf-sized creatures stood just beyond the entry to the room. One resembled the “greelves” she recalled encountering in Red Mountain, only he was adorned in chain mail armor and carried a glistening short sword. His skin was greenish gray. He was handsome in a bizarre sort of way and had well defined musculature and vaguely elfish features. The second was more slightly built and had iridescent hues of many colors sprinkled through his skin, which was also greenish in its overall appearance. He wore ornate robes and carried only a small wand. The troglodyte cowered behind the two characters in the hallway just beyond the door.
Ravenna’s muscles tensed. She had not experienced this feeling since the last time she was in battle, but how long ago was that?
The armored creature spoke but Ravenna could not understand the dialect. Ravenna stood, approached the opening, and shook her head negatively.
The second Vydaelian tapped his small wand twice and muttered vaguely familiar phrases. Ravenna had heard the Languages Spell but it had seldom been necessary in her forays with Roscoe and Knarra because the Staves carried by the sorcerers of Donothor had intrinsic translation abilities.
The first spoke again, “How was your nap, wench?”
Ravenna smirked and replied, “Step into the room and I’ll be happy to discuss it with you.”
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