Legends of Belariath

Ubique Et Hic

It has been said that in the darkness, no one can hear you scream. Those people never traveled to the Nethergloom. They didn’t have the goddess-given eyesight that lets the Moriel see into the very darkness others claim for empty and quiet. So the very things they cannot see, cannot make them scream.

Like many Moriel who come to the surface world and find their way to Nanthalion, Ubique was fortunate to have survived. Ten fingers, ten toes and most of her hide unscathed, she had come years ago but hadn’t stayed. The promise of battle and treasure elsewhere lured her away. But like all wayward children, she returned, full of expectations and ambitions.

Beyond Nanthalion’s borders, she found several different lands. Some were tormented by dragons, the kind that needed killing. And with the right warriors at her back, Ubique obliged. Some lands had stagnant kings who needed to be usurped and for the right price, the Moriel warrior joined the bands of mercenaries and made sure the crown toppled and fell the right way. All lands she visited had inns. Most inns had alcohol. A select few had the right crowds for storytelling and raucous merrymaking. But none had the allure and freedoms that Nanthalion’s Lonely Inn had. So it was no wonder the warrior found her way back. The scars were few, hardly permanent. The grin though, as always, was there.

Before Nanthalion, Ubique had little to speak of or about in regards to the Nethergloom. She didn’t come from an amazingly popular House, wasn’t destined to lead her people to the surface and the riches of ‘above’. She didn’t have a legendary weapon she wielded with more ferocity than anyone else. What she did bring out of the depths of the Nethergloom was a passion for swordplay, a penchant for pain and pleasure, and a fire in her belly to learn more of what she already knew. Anyone could swing an axe or a sword, stick a dagger between ribs and find the heart. Ubique, however, sought more. She wanted her cunning with a blade to develop beyond what she’d learned and experienced in other lands. She strove to take the training begun as a child of the Moriel and honed through hours of combat and practice and make it into something recognizable in the fields around Nanthalion.

The Moriel warrior had already proven herself to the generals of a hundred armies. Now, she wanted to prove to herself that here was an arena she could be tried in, and eventually best others in. Back to Nanthalion’s gates, back to the Lonely Inn, and back to the way of the solitary blade…

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