The Journal of Herlam Corkwill - IC

[Neth]

Hearing the vile syllables of their language spill out of those Thayan worms, Neth finds her stew now revolting. Detesting the lot of them as a menace to her people, but mostly for ruining her appetite, Neth entertains several courses of vengeance. The younger had made it clear the Thayans were hiding something. Whatever they were up to, the last thing they seemed to want was to draw any attention. For all they knew, that cautious Rider had taken up watch just outside.

With the thrill of an opportunity to either ruin their day or get herself killed, Neth takes a final sip of wine, and says quietly to Daurily, "Yes, that language neighbours mine. But they've butchered it, along with my people. I expect you'll find nothing similar in our morals."

She turns to glance up at Gyl. "Kst! ...maoun!" she hisses. The owl adopts a heavy-eyed, lazy expression, and swoops casually into the middle of the three Thayans and perches upon the mantle with a careless bit of cooing.

Neth tries to look annoyed and beckons him. "Venna...! venna...!" The owl remains. Sliding off her stool and drifting over to the fireplace, Neth greets the strangers.

"Your pardon, nokahi. He never listens," she says with a grin, taking Gyl onto her arm, and scratching his neck gratefully for his performance. "Perhaps he heard you and felt homesick. He has not flown an east wind for many seasons. Have you also been long away?"

With a thousand curses burning on her tongue, Neth waits for their reaction with the most pleasant demeanor a Rashemi has ever attempted.

Spoiler

Show

(I've been instructed to do a bluff check...)

(1d20+1)[20] ...