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[4e] Fallen - Prologue: The Crucible (Full)
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<blockquote data-quote="Kobold Stew" data-source="post: 4945994" data-attributes="member: 23484"><p><strong>PIRX -- Crucible Challenge II</strong></p><p></p><p>When Pirx first graduated from the pit, he began to notice all the social layers that existed above him. <span style="color: YellowGreen"><em>We may all be slaves, but the hierarchy exists nonetheless</em></span>. Near the top, the gladiators who have survived a season or two, get baths, and massages to keep them in fighting shape, pretty for the crowds. For those at the very top, the masseuses aren’t dwarves. </p><p></p><p>Too much to navigate, for the wee goblin who didn’t belong. What was important was to escape the ladder. Find something else to do. Pirx’s first instinct was to care for the horses that were used in the games to pull chariots when they would re-enact the Siege of Macaria, the first battle in this Great War. But it turns out the horses are all magically summoned – there’s a row of reins that can each summon a horse. Using these there is no need for stables, or food, or mucking, or stalls; just a new horse each time, fresh for combat or racing or whatever the crowds have been promised. <span style="color: YellowGreen"><em>Want to get me one of those,</em></span> Pirx thought. </p><p></p><p>And so he did. </p><p></p><p>Pirx remembers convincing Thorgil to let him ride a horse (this was back when Thorgil was still alive). He brought down the reins and put them into the long blue fingers of the small hands of the goblin. Pirx ran it through his hands, and thought back to the first time he put a bridle on a caribou – <span style="color: YellowGreen">“Rein-deer”</span> Pirx had joked at the time (a joke that works in both Goblin and Common, as it turns out). Then, it was a matter of snapping the leather bands under the creatures jaw, avoiding the antlers. Because of the height difference, it first required a leap. Leap, snap, hold on for dear life (<span style="color: YellowGreen"><em>deer life; heh</em></span>) as the beast begins to run, and then swing yourself back and forth until you have enough of an arc to reach the creature’s back. Then hold on.</p><p></p><p>He wanted to impress Thorgil, because Thorgil held the key to Pirx’s continued salvation. And so, with the reins in his hand, Pirx began to run. In the dark, past the cells, one leg after another, over the cold floor. He leapt, and shook our the magical bridle in his hand, reaching up, arcing over a neck that wasn’t there. Until it was. The stallion galloped, pulling at the bit as it adjusted its shape to the horse’s mouth. And the breeze ran through the goblin’s fur as he swung back and forth and back and forth, in a well-practiced move remembered from a time before all this. Back and forth and up and his hands as always on the antlers. Which were not there. Nor would they be. Pirx arched over, missing the horse completely, and landed on the cold floor, beside the cage from which a lone bugbear stared at him, and winked. The horse had vanished, the bridle lying on the ground empty, and now useless for another day. And at the end of the hall, Pirx the fallen heard the laugh. Thorgil’s laugh, resonant with unreserved joy, filling the echoing stone sub-basement of the arena.</p><p></p><p>Even today, Pirx remembers making his friend laugh.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Kobold Stew, post: 4945994, member: 23484"] [b]PIRX -- Crucible Challenge II[/b] When Pirx first graduated from the pit, he began to notice all the social layers that existed above him. [COLOR="YellowGreen"][i]We may all be slaves, but the hierarchy exists nonetheless[/i][/color]. Near the top, the gladiators who have survived a season or two, get baths, and massages to keep them in fighting shape, pretty for the crowds. For those at the very top, the masseuses aren’t dwarves. Too much to navigate, for the wee goblin who didn’t belong. What was important was to escape the ladder. Find something else to do. Pirx’s first instinct was to care for the horses that were used in the games to pull chariots when they would re-enact the Siege of Macaria, the first battle in this Great War. But it turns out the horses are all magically summoned – there’s a row of reins that can each summon a horse. Using these there is no need for stables, or food, or mucking, or stalls; just a new horse each time, fresh for combat or racing or whatever the crowds have been promised. [COLOR="YellowGreen"][i]Want to get me one of those,[/i][/color] Pirx thought. And so he did. Pirx remembers convincing Thorgil to let him ride a horse (this was back when Thorgil was still alive). He brought down the reins and put them into the long blue fingers of the small hands of the goblin. Pirx ran it through his hands, and thought back to the first time he put a bridle on a caribou – [COLOR="YellowGreen"]“Rein-deer”[/color] Pirx had joked at the time (a joke that works in both Goblin and Common, as it turns out). Then, it was a matter of snapping the leather bands under the creatures jaw, avoiding the antlers. Because of the height difference, it first required a leap. Leap, snap, hold on for dear life ([color="YellowGreen"][i]deer life; heh[/i][/color]) as the beast begins to run, and then swing yourself back and forth until you have enough of an arc to reach the creature’s back. Then hold on. He wanted to impress Thorgil, because Thorgil held the key to Pirx’s continued salvation. And so, with the reins in his hand, Pirx began to run. In the dark, past the cells, one leg after another, over the cold floor. He leapt, and shook our the magical bridle in his hand, reaching up, arcing over a neck that wasn’t there. Until it was. The stallion galloped, pulling at the bit as it adjusted its shape to the horse’s mouth. And the breeze ran through the goblin’s fur as he swung back and forth and back and forth, in a well-practiced move remembered from a time before all this. Back and forth and up and his hands as always on the antlers. Which were not there. Nor would they be. Pirx arched over, missing the horse completely, and landed on the cold floor, beside the cage from which a lone bugbear stared at him, and winked. The horse had vanished, the bridle lying on the ground empty, and now useless for another day. And at the end of the hall, Pirx the fallen heard the laugh. Thorgil’s laugh, resonant with unreserved joy, filling the echoing stone sub-basement of the arena. Even today, Pirx remembers making his friend laugh. [/QUOTE]
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