Mole — Roleplayer Guild

A woman who was doing the "Forgivness Seminar" with us (for us its very important to learn how to forgive) had a serious problem with her husband who was--well, he was a man. Do you know what that means--a man? It means 'dangerous!'

And as a parenthesis: many times women ask me about the meaning of the Epistle that is read during the marriage ceremony, where it says that a wife must fear her husband. And I always tell them: this is because men are dangerous! If a man hits you... it's better to fear him and respect him and not provoke him. A man is dangerous from all points of view. But a man once told me: "Women are dangerous, too!" And I replied: "Yes! Have you ever seen a woman, when her husband yells at her, that she continues to read the newspaper or watch TV? You haven't? Well, that is the difference!"

— Schemanun Siluana Vlad, God, Where is the Wound? Healing Remedies for Today’s World

T I M E :   One Week After Human Arrival
L O C A T I O N : Lodge, Port10
I N T E R A C T I O N S : Barrock
T A G S : @Conscripts
E Q U I P M E N T :
N/A

          When Barrack spoke, his voice encouraged the room to listen. The plants hanging from the ceiling, green and lime and yellow of fresh life were still in their sway. The Fireplace, crackling with robust warmth ceased its sizzling save for a small occasion. And Good Ole Timothy, with his hat, shading the sparkles of his eyes that never knew how to lose hope, leaned inwards for respect of such a magnificent creature's wisdom.

          "Aye," Timothy nodded his head. The brown leather tip of his large, pointed hat knelt too-and-fro with his movement. Long shadows dismissing him and blurring back to the fireplace as he chuckled to something mysterious and interesting.  "Humans have been known to be the wisest of all creatures and the dumbest, as well. I believe this makes more sense of the prophecy. Humans be our heroes or our folly. Which way they choose, is their choice alone. We may only help guide them."

          A small pause graced the Good Ole Elf. His curly brown hair was amber and bushed with an adventure he would never know but eager to understand and begin to explain.

          "Your sister, my good Rowan," his eyes, slanting, excusing any privacy between Barrack and him, widened. "She has been studying under a great Elf for most of her life on the treasure trove of human folly. Albeit, I reckon, she may liken to call it something far less dubious, as respectful and docile as creature as she is. Needs much protecting for what she knows... and doesn't know."

          "Yes," Rowan stood straight.  The lightning that had been lost in him, winced and returned momentarily. It was their father who had taught his sister.  "Our father said he had met a human centuries before our birth. The human had died closely after their happen-chance meeting. Father was able to make great contributions to our studies of the creature. However, our human is much harder to control than what our father taught us." 

          "Control?" Timothy chuckled again, amusedly. "No one controls a human. Not that Good Ole Timothy Babadil has ever known. Woe to whatever Dark Elf tries to control him, for part of the prophecy, left so muddied only to be speculated, that the human in the hands of the Dark Elf shall resume his own power as the Eternal Lord of Darkness, for his power is too great to choose otherwise when in the wrong hands." His head, instead of nodding this time, shook slowly and wisely and gravely, and the tip of his large, leather hat, resumed the motion, naturally and with a shallow lack of charismatic loft. "This is what makes humans all the more clever and powerful and dangerous. Only a human may control himself. And so, let this be written in your memories, whatever a human decides is always his own decision. Much like yourselves." He stood his ground to Barrock. "And how hard was it for you, good creature, great, grand, and wise, to make the decisions you have made? His hands, once at his side, swaying freely, were positioned on his hips. His chest beamed with an unspeakable pride for the large Orc, hovering so grandly in his doorway.

         "Speaking of which, we've delved a little too deeply into conversation without making ourselves comfortable. Care for some tea, or what would have you, Great Orc, also known as the Ever Humble and Venerable Barrock. I know little about something as rare and unique as yourself. What is it you would like to quell your physical worries. Come in, come in. The couch will be made for you by the fireplace." And, on that occasion, the fireplace made its sizzle, a delicious sound for a welcomed guest.

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