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Posted by on 1999 May 31 |

Path’s Story

(Crossing, Zoluren: 393 Nissa 357)

Heads turn as a lithe, silvery creature with cat-slitted green eyes and a luxurious tail saunters in and sits down at the bar.

"Hello, Baresh. I’ve heard that you are the one to speak to if I wish my story to be heard."

She pauses for a moment, the tips of her delicately-tufted ears twitching slightly as she observes the room.

"Would you happen to have any milk? Ohh…thank you sooo much," she says, purring happily. "Really, you people have all been so very kind."

"My name is Path Myrrh. Perhaps you’ve heard of me already?" she asks. "I was with the group of refugees led by Vael who entered your Hubcity of Crossing recently. I must say, I am quite overwhelmed by the hospitality shown to me and others. Vael told us to seek allies, but I did not expect it to be so very easy."

She stops for a moment, glancing down at herself with admiration.

"Look," she says, pointing to a grass-green flaxen anklet she wears. "This was a gift from a kind man of your Hubcity…it matches my eyes perrrrfectly, don’t you think? I do so adore the color green. Anyway, as I was saying…" She clears her throat.

"For those who wish to know more of the history of my people, the Prydaen, our expert on those matters is Balam. He’s always been terribly interested in matters of lore and history. I myself can answer questions people have, but was never very interested in the doings of the Hubs and am certainly not an expert on these matters. However, I have run into quite a few people who wish to know more about how we Prydaen think, and the many attributes we have been gifted with, and this is a subject that interests me greatly."

"Obviously, we Prydaen are a superior race, though we don’t like to rub others’ noses in that. We’re quite content to let the other races believe that they are our equals…" she chuckles softly "…as long as they treat us with the proper respect. Those who don’t…"

She trails off, flicking the tip of her tail in the air as her eyes narrow.

"We Prydaen prefer to roam, and don’t generally care to settle in one spot for long. Of course, we do mate, and will sometimes travel with our mates, but we do not spend our lives slobbering over our entire family as the charming Rakash do. We’ve lived near the Rakash for ages, but are quite different from them, though I am sure they have their attributes as well. Their quaint notions of ‘the pack’ are really most amusing, and the poor dears do tend to get horribly excited over the slightest thing. I’m actually quite happy about the truce we have with them, since I do think they are adorable creatures, and certainly mean well."

She raises her eyebrow slightly as Baresh asks her what information she has on the recent invasion of the undead.

"Well," she says, her voice just the tiniest bit frosty, "I *was* in the middle of explaining something, but very well. Never let it be said that I am touchy."

Her tail flicks in annoyance, and she continues:

"The Prydaen kin and Rakash kin which attacked the Hubcity were, of course, our relatives, turned into undead by the wicked magic of that witch Lyras. You really cannot begin to understand how dreadful it was for us, watching Hub after Hub be destroyed by what appeared to be our own people. And of course, since so many of the undead are trapped behind the Barrier now, their souls cannot be released, and I fear this may mean a decline in our population. All Prydaen souls are reborn into new bodies, but with no souls available for rebirth, how can we expect to bring forth new litters? It is a complicated question, and it gives me a bit of a headache to think about it."

She blinks suddenly, glancing at a well-dressed Elven woman entering the Bar.

"Ohhh," she purrs, "I do like the necklace she’s wearing. Do you think it would look nice on me? I do so adore silver, and it matches my fur so splendidly."

She finishes her milk, and a slightly puzzled look crosses her face.

"Oh dear, you’ll want a few of those ‘coins’ for this, won’t you? Such an odd custom, this dependence on bits of metal. Though they are very pretty, especially the silver ones. Did I mention that I adore silver because of how nicely it matches my fur?"

She rummages around in a pouch and comes up with a few coins. "Luckily, several of the very kind people of your Hubcity have given me some of the coins. Though I would think that, being a refugee, I wouldn’t be expected to…you *do* expect me to pay? Oh, very well. Never let it be said that I am greedy…"

She watches her coins disappear into Baresh’s palm with a distinct look of disappointment, and, wish a casual wave of her tail, slips away from the bar and out the door.

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Baresh started working at the Wren’s Nest when it first opened in 349AL. He’s been hearing the news and pouring drinks ever since then.