RP:Let Me See Your True Face

From HollowWiki

Part of the Thy Kingdom Come Arc


Part of the Craughmoyle's King Arc



Summary: Gheneroc stumbles across Hildegarde in the picnic area of Xalious and they begin to chat about the trouble brewing in Frostmaw. In search of allies and aware of the abilities of the elder dragon, Hildegarde hopes he might offer his assistance. Yet Gheneroc's assistance comes at a price: to help him rule the dwarves and Craughmoyle or to reveal to him her true face which she has long avoided around him.

Picnic Area

Hildegarde’s armour was a ragtag selection of various plate metals and some cheap chainmail, most definitely not her typical mithril armour of good quality and good maintenance. Yet that didn’t seem to matter. Hildegarde had risen from the dead and was a living, breathing creature once again. Here she sat in the picnic area, a map spread out upon the table. The picnic area was desolate at this time of evening, but that suited Hildegarde well enough; she needed the quiet to focus on the map in front of her. It was a map of the realm at large: Frostmaw, Xalious, Gualon, Craughmoyle and so on. Hildegarde’s focus appears to be solely on the map.


Gheneroc strolled into view. Although, the for the large dragon, a stroll was still rumbling through the eart as each of his paws pressed against the earth. "Hildegarde." The dragon spoke languidly. His voice carried purpose, his cadence was slow and careful as always. The house-sized beast loomed over Hildegarde's diminutive human figure, although he took care not to get dangerously close. He wouldn't want to step on one he considered a friend. "You look well." That was as good a compliment as any. "I am aware of the... incident."


Hildegarde can obviously hear Gheneroc approaching from some distance away, given that when you travel around as a large dragon who paws through the earth, you’re very easy to spot. “Gheneroc,” she looked up from the map, offering the large dragon a smile. “I would be a little surprised if you hadn’t heard of it. As occupied as you usually are with Craughmoyle, you seem knowledgeable of the world.”


Gheneroc rumbled. "My spies are many. Knowledge is power." Gheneroc pause a few moments. "Nahl Silon" he said with some emphasis. "What have you planned to do?" Gheneroc spotted the map, though rather than attempting to read it, he figured Hildegarde would yield a straight answer.


Hildegarde would yield a straight answer. “I hope you prefer the ‘Living Silver’ to the Dilon Silon,” the latter words more guttural and rather strange sounding from a human mouth. Not quite butchered, but lacking a certain accent. “I plan to take Frostmaw back,” she told him plainly. “To quell this uprising and put all back to order.”


Gheneroc rumbled thoughtfully. An uprising. Hmm. "I offer my assistance," Gheneroc started slowly, "for a price. A favor of equal value." Always scheming his way around, but perhaps this was a way to catch the honor-bound Silver. "I will help you stifle this rebellion. In return, I need assistance with the dwarves. My approaches thus far have yielded little results. That or... Hin vahzah luft."


Hildegarde had come to know Gheneroc well enough to understand he would offer his help in anticipation of some kind of repayment. “You want either my help with the dwarves or to see my true face?” she asked him, evidently attempting to clarify what he was wanting out of her. At least it wasn’t some twisted marriage contract (looking at you, Rogatus).


Gheneroc rumbled an affirming growl. "Your honor is... appealing. I know you have many ill-fated suitors. When I see you, Hildegarde, I am looking at a proxy. A falsehood. I have done my best to remain forthright." (ooc: Gtg for now, I'll be on later)


Hildegarde’s fiery brows knitted together for a moment in confusion, as if wondering why seeing her in her truest shape would guarantee his assistance. “And that is what you want? To see my truest face more than my assistance with the dwarves?”


Gheneroc loomed a moment, mulling it over once more. "The dwarves may require more convincing than you might provide. Besides, I believe you may have already committed to appealing on my behalf. I have known you, Hildegarde, but I have not seen you. I want to see, Hildegarde. Before you die again."


Hildegarde chortled at his rather grim words, “Hopefully, I will not die any time soon. I only just got back,” she reminded him with a smile. “You wish to see me now or have you some kind of other requirement to go with this request?”


Gheneroc knew that Hildegarde was quite wise to the wiles of Gheneroc. "If agreeable, to see more than once, Hildegarde. I long for my kin. Since I met you, Hildegarde, I have expressed a desire to converse with your true face."


Hildegarde nodded in agreement to this, “But not when you demand,” she would not have someone dictate when she would appear in what form. “And converse,” she emphasised the word, as she rose from her seat on at the picnic table. “I assume this is spacious enough,” she murmured, glancing around the rolling hills of the park and the picnic area. What with there being no civilians at all, it would be safe enough for her to appear in her truest of shapes. Gheneroc, being a dragon himself, would surely understand the transformative nature of all dragons and would be unsurprised to see the human form of Hildegarde suddenly replaced by the hulking form of a silver scaled dragon. Her leathery wings extend and stretch out before folding against her back in a sleek and aerodynamic manner; her horns slope from her head to further emphasise her aerodynamic nature. Her talons are fearsome, much like her fangs. The looming dragon huffs an icy cloud of breath as she stands tall before Gheneroc. “Zu'u nis saag Zu'u mindoraan saak sent,” the dragon grumbles.


Gheneroc took a few steps back as Hildegarde seemed to require a bit more space. He stopped momentarily as the silver changed into her dragon form, and in that moment, the mighty evil dragon felt something he had not felt in tens of thousands of years. Gheneroc, who was wingless, did not share in Hildegarde's slim figure, but that did not stop him from approaching. So overcome with nostalgia, the dragon spoke not a word for quite some time as he nuzzled against Hildegarde. He growled and cooed, much like any dragon would. He cajoled as if seeing a long-lost friend for the first time before his response finally came. "Kruziik koraav ni nun."


Hildegarde could not imagine a life without her wings or the ability to know she could reach the skies whenever she desired. Her species were adept at ambush attacks and aerial evasion, hence her sleek appearance and bright scales to reflect the light. “Hi reythsos!” the words are accompanied with an odd throaty noise that might be construed as laughter.


Gheneroc rumbled again as he began circling around Hildegarde now. He appeared significantly less refined in raw appearance in comparison to the silver. "Noraas ni. Hi volaav wah genun." This was followed by an equally gutteral sound, but it was more natural to Gheneroc. It did not sound as assimilated as Hildegarde's 'laughter'. Gheneroc noticed Hilde's mannerisms were reflecting her human form. "Kos dovah. Kos zokah."


Hildegarde had heard this sort of talk from Gheneroc before. “Druv dreh hi lorot Zu'u los ni zokah?” she asked of him, determined to know why he thought she wasn’t proud of her dragon self at all. She was proud to be a dragon, but felt no need to parade around in her truest of forms at all times. “Zu'u los zokah. Nuz hi los ni zokah do zey, ahrk tol los nid tozein do dii.”


Gheneroc said to Hildegarde, "Qethserod vahzen. Buld do atumei los ni kah. Zu'u los kast ko kruziik ven."


Hildegarde said to Gheneroc, "It is not a lesser shape to me. We will never reconcile that difference."


Gheneroc grumbled a bit. Perhaps she was right. But as she spoke with him in her dragon form, this comment, though heard before, seemed to have a different effect on the racist dragon. He didn't seem to wish to argue the point further. Instead, he churred, deep and low as he nuzzled against Hildegarde again.


Hildegarde would probably have assumed her natural form sooner if she had known it would lessen Gheneroc’s racist comments! But hindsight is magical like that. “Gheneroc, what should I do about Frostmaw?” she asked the elder dragon.


Gheneroc put some small distance between himself and Hildegarde. "If it were my kingdom..." He started slowly. "There would be no mercy to the traitors. Extinguish enough of the dissenters to restore order. Leave some alive so they might know both your wrath and your mercy. To the survivors, cast them to exile." Of course, Gheneroc was a particularly tyranical ruler. "I cannot tell you what you should do, Hildegarde."


Hildegarde listened to the somewhat tyrannical advice of Gheneroc. He was cruel, racist, old-fashioned and unfair. But he ruled with an iron fist. “I am the Steward. If I return, old issues will persist,” she said before growling thoughtfully; wings shifting ever so slightly as she thought on the matter. “All I know is that I need to gather my friends and allies. I need strength.”


Gheneroc rumbled steadily. "I have created order in any realm that I have ruled. I do not take these duties lightly. All must be in agreement with the shape of society or leave." Of course, he left out the bit that he marked most of his subjects to compel their compliance, but perhaps a topic for another time. "When the time comes, tell me your decision."


Hildegarde dipped her scaly head in acknowledgement of his words. “I will,” she assured him. “So. I have met your demand, I have shown you my truest shape. I will have your assistance, should I need it?”


Gheneroc dipped his head in return. "You should visit my home some time." With that said, Gheneroc felt the conversation was at a closing point and turned to walk away.


All translations were gathered from: https://www.thuum.org/translate.php