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Emerging from the thicket and being greeted by a startled dwarf, battle hammer in one hand battle axe in the other. It made Morte stop, almost suddenly.
Had she gone into dwarf country? Did she end up in zerdargia? How deep was she?
It looked as though there was only one choice even though it would torment her inner core in ways unimaginable, her outstretched arm lowered slowly in disbelief. She needed to gain a faction and the dwarves were a better choice then them light elves but not by much.
They did not understand the emotions and passions she felt towards just about anything, when she fought it was not out protection but out of the love of battle itself. She fought with every fiber of her being not because she valued her life, but because the thrill of battle affected her in ways that these surface dwellers could not imagine. Her enemies she loathed them, she hated them in ways that could not even be comprehended by mere dwarves or arrogant light born elves. It was not a dislike or distaste of there species but a near psychopathic rage driven by emotions into shear lunacy. Her brothers and sisters cast out of trelore, she had a desire for vengeance today a vampiric blood lust for elven blood that could not be quenched, that would never be quenched.
The dwarves on the other hand, had a problem of digging there homes into the vysstichi enclaves. It was an irritation, they were merely just minor set backs and problems in her eyes. Like uninvited guests. Or that buddy that drinks brews in the basement of your home and says he's going to get a job tomorrow. It was against everything she stood for to ally with them, but on the other hand if she could spill light born blood then so be it. Anything for vengeance, she would massacre what she hoped were elves and let them rot in the forest.
Her sword was down, and left arm raised up and her index finger pointed onward towards the sounds of battle. She was trying to tell the armed dwarf, that she was heading towards that battle.
Morte did not try to speak to them, they would not understand her native tongue nor would she expect them ever to be able to learn it. It was a proud language, a complicated tongue and dwarves to her would never meet the standard of being able to communicate in such a noble dialect
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