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A Chronicle of Ice, Luck and Honour - updated 19th December
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<blockquote data-quote="Spider_Jerusalem" data-source="post: 2339457" data-attributes="member: 5507"><p><strong><span style="color: RoyalBlue"><span style="font-size: 15px">Interlude Number Three: A Tale of Fire</span></span></strong></p><p></p><p>The flames licked and crawled over the smooth stone of the mage tower. The brickwork above the first and second floor windows was scorched and dead. The fire caressed a sluggish embrace over the magic hardened walls.</p><p></p><p>Inside the primary study, a boiling spell book rattled open and a single white page snapped free as a billow of hot air tore past. Spiraling upwards, the paper banked and curled as the flames below sped its ascent. With a desperate twist, the page buffeted against the searing stone of the second story window then flapped forwards and escaped into the broiling dusk air. But too late, as a thunderous blast from inside the tower exploded outwards, collapsing the stone walls like a falling house of cards. With a blaze of light, the rising fireball consumed the page. </p><p></p><p>The magic of the mage tower died. Dust, smoke and fire blossomed outwards. The cinders of the fire danced and weaved slowly, curling a constellation of embers together as they blended with the flames from the surrounding houses.</p><p></p><p>A bead of sweat began to roll then stopped against the inside of the visor. Reaching his hand up, Robar pressed his gauntlet against the helm to soak the sweat into the leather padding. The droplet stayed put, and with a grunt of annoyance, he pulled his helmet off. He threw the red emblazoned helm to his squire, then Robar peeled a sweat sodden gauntlet from his hand and ran his hand through his short, dark hair. Robar let his arms fall to his sides as he resumed his fascination at the slow drift and ebb of the shimmering embers that now fell like a fatal, glowing snow.</p><p></p><p>The approach of a horse turned Robar’s attention from the flames. As the messenger knight came to a stop and saluted quickly, Robar wheeled his mighty red stallion, it's black hooves thumping against the ground in aggravation at being moved.</p><p></p><p>“Ser Robar. Noristour fled, but The Bear made sure he did not travel far,” informed the older knight, his dark red helmet slighty muffling his words. </p><p>“And so, where is he now?” asked Robar as he waved a dying ember away from his face.</p><p>“Ser. I… I left him to hunt for more survivors,” answered the knight.</p><p>“You fool. Go and order The Bear to return to the body of Noristour and burn it,” said Robar, his eyes glinting in the ember-strewn light, “his soul must feed the forge of Kossuth.” </p><p></p><p>The knight went to reply, but a scream of anguish pierced the heavy air as a half drow, wreathed in flames, burst from the doors of a smoldering building. The half drow wavered for a moment before charging wildly up the hill toward the knights. With a sickening gargle, the half drow shouted something as he saw Robar.</p><p></p><p>“Defend me!” called Robar as he fumbled to unlatch his lance.</p><p></p><p>The half drow staggered again but stayed upright, his burning hands grasping at Robar as he stumbled closer.</p><p></p><p>“DEFEND ME!” Robar shouted, his voice wavering.</p><p></p><p>The messenger guided his horse quickly between Robar and the half drow. With a swift kick, the half drow collapsed to the floor and continued to burn as the soft black silks of his clothes exploded into a flurry of flames. The knight dismounted and drew his sword.</p><p></p><p>“No! Let him burn,” growled Robar as he regained control of his mount and slowly circled back towards the squirming half drow.</p><p>“But Ser. The man is burning! You can’t let…”</p><p>“Yes. I can,”</p><p>“Ser” replied the knight stiffly, sheathing his longsword and nodding in acceptance of the orders.</p><p></p><p>The messenger mounted then quickly turned away from Robar, keen to leave the presence of the man who so many had fallen before, their souls burnt in deliverance to his fiery god. Halting at the base of the hill, the messenger glanced back and watched the red robed knight gazing at the final agonizing minutes of the smoldering figure. A drift of falling embers swirled lazily around Robar as he watched the life of the half drow crackle and boil away. Finally Robar stared up to the blazing sky above Darmshall, hoping that Kossuth would accept this burnt offering.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Spider_Jerusalem, post: 2339457, member: 5507"] [B][COLOR=RoyalBlue][SIZE=4]Interlude Number Three: A Tale of Fire[/SIZE][/COLOR][/B] The flames licked and crawled over the smooth stone of the mage tower. The brickwork above the first and second floor windows was scorched and dead. The fire caressed a sluggish embrace over the magic hardened walls. Inside the primary study, a boiling spell book rattled open and a single white page snapped free as a billow of hot air tore past. Spiraling upwards, the paper banked and curled as the flames below sped its ascent. With a desperate twist, the page buffeted against the searing stone of the second story window then flapped forwards and escaped into the broiling dusk air. But too late, as a thunderous blast from inside the tower exploded outwards, collapsing the stone walls like a falling house of cards. With a blaze of light, the rising fireball consumed the page. The magic of the mage tower died. Dust, smoke and fire blossomed outwards. The cinders of the fire danced and weaved slowly, curling a constellation of embers together as they blended with the flames from the surrounding houses. A bead of sweat began to roll then stopped against the inside of the visor. Reaching his hand up, Robar pressed his gauntlet against the helm to soak the sweat into the leather padding. The droplet stayed put, and with a grunt of annoyance, he pulled his helmet off. He threw the red emblazoned helm to his squire, then Robar peeled a sweat sodden gauntlet from his hand and ran his hand through his short, dark hair. Robar let his arms fall to his sides as he resumed his fascination at the slow drift and ebb of the shimmering embers that now fell like a fatal, glowing snow. The approach of a horse turned Robar’s attention from the flames. As the messenger knight came to a stop and saluted quickly, Robar wheeled his mighty red stallion, it's black hooves thumping against the ground in aggravation at being moved. “Ser Robar. Noristour fled, but The Bear made sure he did not travel far,” informed the older knight, his dark red helmet slighty muffling his words. “And so, where is he now?” asked Robar as he waved a dying ember away from his face. “Ser. I… I left him to hunt for more survivors,” answered the knight. “You fool. Go and order The Bear to return to the body of Noristour and burn it,” said Robar, his eyes glinting in the ember-strewn light, “his soul must feed the forge of Kossuth.” The knight went to reply, but a scream of anguish pierced the heavy air as a half drow, wreathed in flames, burst from the doors of a smoldering building. The half drow wavered for a moment before charging wildly up the hill toward the knights. With a sickening gargle, the half drow shouted something as he saw Robar. “Defend me!” called Robar as he fumbled to unlatch his lance. The half drow staggered again but stayed upright, his burning hands grasping at Robar as he stumbled closer. “DEFEND ME!” Robar shouted, his voice wavering. The messenger guided his horse quickly between Robar and the half drow. With a swift kick, the half drow collapsed to the floor and continued to burn as the soft black silks of his clothes exploded into a flurry of flames. The knight dismounted and drew his sword. “No! Let him burn,” growled Robar as he regained control of his mount and slowly circled back towards the squirming half drow. “But Ser. The man is burning! You can’t let…” “Yes. I can,” “Ser” replied the knight stiffly, sheathing his longsword and nodding in acceptance of the orders. The messenger mounted then quickly turned away from Robar, keen to leave the presence of the man who so many had fallen before, their souls burnt in deliverance to his fiery god. Halting at the base of the hill, the messenger glanced back and watched the red robed knight gazing at the final agonizing minutes of the smoldering figure. A drift of falling embers swirled lazily around Robar as he watched the life of the half drow crackle and boil away. Finally Robar stared up to the blazing sky above Darmshall, hoping that Kossuth would accept this burnt offering. [/QUOTE]
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A Chronicle of Ice, Luck and Honour - updated 19th December
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