Haze-
eternal brainrot™
Expedition #1
MORRWYN
DRAGON SLAYER
THE CRYSTAL CAVERNS, DUNGEONS UNDER CAEDIA
“Oh, friend…” — The young prince sighed, aping that same smile the djinn had drawn on him. His head hung low and the shoulders came slumping down with it, as even the crown couldn’t pull the efforts to hide the emotion twining Morrwyn’s features unto a tangled mess. His upper lip was quivering, tugging to a smile. Wistful. Regretting something. Recalling something. Something he couldn’t quite fully recall at all.
The glint of the crystals rode down their path, and the next thing that rolled its way was the echoing drag of a spear scrapped across the cave floor, a haughty cackle booming down the tunnel— spiteful of memory and the lack thereof, of its mute gabble still buzzing vividly in his head — “Gods be damned if A’ still had any ballads from me land gone unforgotten in this noggin ‘ere…” — The spear spun pirouettes, slipping between finger to finger until a pinky hooked to hold it still. Looming right over that empty, amnesiac skull Morrwyn hated so dearly. He clanked the tip of the glaive once, twice on the highness of his crown, craned his head back to fling a smile at Dakar — “I’d be howling them loud an’ clear. Enough ta’ give all those cave crawlers a bloody heart attack.”
“But sadly…” — His shoulders sagged again as he sighed, taking long, dramatic strides forward. He shrugged — “If there ever was such a memory, it’s long escaped me.”
After another deflation, a still silence, Morrwyn’s head perked up from under his gloom as if a lightbulb had lit up over the crown, had him digging his heel and doing a full 180° to face Dakar. A coy smile wide, narrowing his eyes under the crown — “Bet me arse y’ don’t have any from wheres ya’ came neither, sire Dakar.”
“Tsk tsk tsk…Reckon we could make our own then! The ballad of sire Dakar the laureate and his trusty troubadour sire Morrwyn, eh?” — He presented, throwing his arms out with childish grandeur and taking those same awful long strides in reverse without even bothering to look if the tunnels had ended yet or not. The boredom of guard duty had taken its toll on him already, surely.
He raised up his still flaming spear, chainmail and blacksteel chirring as his arm raised, up high to scrape sparks along the roof for dramatic effect. A low rumble started on the pit of his throat, growing to a gruff hum as the spear finally came spearing down on the floor, plucking back up, then down again. A rhythmical, metallic thump echoed down the tunnel. Spark and embers thrown off on every clank of the spear.
A one, and a two— and a one, and a— “Err’ once was a vamp, ‘is boots was soiled♪~!” — The prince started, an idiotic smile on his face as the lyricism couldn’t help but escape him too, much like the memory. A string of melodic hummings and mumblings carried along with the drumming of the spear instead; Morrwyn gestured with his free hand at the djinn, cueing him in — “C’mon then! I ain’t a bard, mate. Can’t come up with nowt else. Make summat up! Me arm’s killing me already…”
This dungeon delving thing was quite the laidback endeavor, wasn't it?
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