03-06-2015, 01:34 PM
After a full day and a half of travel with his new companions, the Chosen Undead had to admit, things had improved for him significantly. Gilnor had rather swiftly brought the Chosen up to speed, after explaining several basic things about the Omniverse. Oh yes, the Chosen Undead knew what the Omniverse was now! He also knew that this particular ‘verse’ was called the Frozen Fields, and was one of eight different ‘verses’ not counting the Nexus, which was where he had started. He knew that these fine little men were in fact, fine dwarves, he knew a bit more about the trolls, and most importantly, he knew the difference between Primes, and Secondaries...and what a difference. To think he was one of the few individuals, well few compared to how many secondaries there were, to be able to tap into the full, complete useage of Omnillium, to be able to summon, create, extract and more! It gave him quite an important role within the workings of the Omniverse. It was impressive, and intimidating. The Chosen did greatly hope that the sacrifice he had made at the Kiln of the First Flame had still gone through, that the First Flame still burned and kept the sun of his world lit...but ultimately he did not know. As of yet, there was no known way to escape the Omniverse, and if anyone from his world had had the power to defy Omni then well...the Chosen had killed them. So he was stuck here, and he was just going to have to make the most of it!
Right now a good start was assisting and helping the dwarves of the Frozen Fields, which according to Gilnor, all paid allegiance to King Bruenor Battlehammer, who ruled from the Mithril Hall in Dwarfholm. However, King Battlehammer could not afford to meet with just anyone who came by to meet him. The Chosen Undead, known simply as “The Chosen” to Gilnor and his other traveling companions, would need to undertake a task to gain access to the Mithril Hall and meet the king. Other than that though, Gilnor wouldn’t tell him anymore. He said it wasn’t his place to tell the Chosen what he needed to do. No, that was the place of the various mayors of the dwarven settlements, and a few military officers, who could assign this task as they pleased. It was also to ensure that the individuals who accepted the rewards would know what the quest taker looked like. Since those officials could then get a description of the Chosen sent to Dwarfholm for when he arrived with the proper materials, if he ever arrived with the proper materials. Before that though, Gilnor wanted to get the Chosen a drink, and hear something of his story! To that end, they were marching through the tunnels, stone pressing down above them. They had passed through a gate guarded by no less than six armed and armored dwarves, but Gilnor and his pals had easily gotten the Chosen through with little more than a cursory examination. It turned out that arriving after having rescued several dwarves gave one a bit of credit for this kind of thing.
Still, what the Chosen was most worried about, was how they’d react to learning he was an Undead. He had not quite had the heart to tell them, part of him was wondering if he should even mention it. As for keeping it hidden, he could do that. Last night, while the dwarves slept, with one on watch, he had put some of the knowledge Gilnor had provided to good use. Using the Omnillium within him, the Chosen Undead had altered his form, shifting his withered, corpse like body back to his human state. It worked surprisingly well, much like restoring one's humanity back in Lordran, he had skin again, and it could actually feel, just like before. He was still...well, undead, he still did not need to breathe or worry of cold, it was just that now he looked human, rather than like a musty, wizened old corpse. Should he tell them, that was the question, he supposed he should try approaching it in a more...subtle, roundabout way. Gilnor had said he wanted to learn something of his tale, and according to him, Primes always had the best stories due to being Primes. So perhaps if he explained what the Undead curse was, and what it did to someone….but he did not even know how they responded to undead in their world, if their original worlds even HAD them. So, he supposed he would just have to try and feel it out, and gods it had been so long since he’d actually said anything, his voice sounded strange even to him, and he’d only said a handful of words since ‘shifting’ his vocal chords into a functioning state.
Once they got into this ‘tavern’ as Gilnor called it, the Chosen would have to do a lot more speaking it seemed, and he wasn’t quite sure how to handle that. Of course he likely could refuse, the dwarf would likely understand given he had been mute before now. That might be nice actually, just share a few ‘pints’ whatever that meant, with the dwarves, get this mission from the settlement leader, and then head out on to do some good for the dwarves of the Frozen Fields. First though, it was time to socialize with more people than he had ever seen in one place that weren't trying to murder him. As Gilnor led him to a low, stone building called ‘The Boiled Mushroom’ according to the sign, the Chosen Undead took a deep breath, and ducked inside. For some reason, the thought of facing over a dozen people who weren’t hollowed corpses out to murder him filled him with an odd sense of dread. Ah well, just had to get through this...shouldn't be that hard, right?
Right now a good start was assisting and helping the dwarves of the Frozen Fields, which according to Gilnor, all paid allegiance to King Bruenor Battlehammer, who ruled from the Mithril Hall in Dwarfholm. However, King Battlehammer could not afford to meet with just anyone who came by to meet him. The Chosen Undead, known simply as “The Chosen” to Gilnor and his other traveling companions, would need to undertake a task to gain access to the Mithril Hall and meet the king. Other than that though, Gilnor wouldn’t tell him anymore. He said it wasn’t his place to tell the Chosen what he needed to do. No, that was the place of the various mayors of the dwarven settlements, and a few military officers, who could assign this task as they pleased. It was also to ensure that the individuals who accepted the rewards would know what the quest taker looked like. Since those officials could then get a description of the Chosen sent to Dwarfholm for when he arrived with the proper materials, if he ever arrived with the proper materials. Before that though, Gilnor wanted to get the Chosen a drink, and hear something of his story! To that end, they were marching through the tunnels, stone pressing down above them. They had passed through a gate guarded by no less than six armed and armored dwarves, but Gilnor and his pals had easily gotten the Chosen through with little more than a cursory examination. It turned out that arriving after having rescued several dwarves gave one a bit of credit for this kind of thing.
Still, what the Chosen was most worried about, was how they’d react to learning he was an Undead. He had not quite had the heart to tell them, part of him was wondering if he should even mention it. As for keeping it hidden, he could do that. Last night, while the dwarves slept, with one on watch, he had put some of the knowledge Gilnor had provided to good use. Using the Omnillium within him, the Chosen Undead had altered his form, shifting his withered, corpse like body back to his human state. It worked surprisingly well, much like restoring one's humanity back in Lordran, he had skin again, and it could actually feel, just like before. He was still...well, undead, he still did not need to breathe or worry of cold, it was just that now he looked human, rather than like a musty, wizened old corpse. Should he tell them, that was the question, he supposed he should try approaching it in a more...subtle, roundabout way. Gilnor had said he wanted to learn something of his tale, and according to him, Primes always had the best stories due to being Primes. So perhaps if he explained what the Undead curse was, and what it did to someone….but he did not even know how they responded to undead in their world, if their original worlds even HAD them. So, he supposed he would just have to try and feel it out, and gods it had been so long since he’d actually said anything, his voice sounded strange even to him, and he’d only said a handful of words since ‘shifting’ his vocal chords into a functioning state.
Once they got into this ‘tavern’ as Gilnor called it, the Chosen would have to do a lot more speaking it seemed, and he wasn’t quite sure how to handle that. Of course he likely could refuse, the dwarf would likely understand given he had been mute before now. That might be nice actually, just share a few ‘pints’ whatever that meant, with the dwarves, get this mission from the settlement leader, and then head out on to do some good for the dwarves of the Frozen Fields. First though, it was time to socialize with more people than he had ever seen in one place that weren't trying to murder him. As Gilnor led him to a low, stone building called ‘The Boiled Mushroom’ according to the sign, the Chosen Undead took a deep breath, and ducked inside. For some reason, the thought of facing over a dozen people who weren’t hollowed corpses out to murder him filled him with an odd sense of dread. Ah well, just had to get through this...shouldn't be that hard, right?