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A Lonely Path: a Shackled City Story Hour (the old version, see last post)
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<blockquote data-quote="hbarsquared" data-source="post: 2246662" data-attributes="member: 4550"><p><span style="color: deepskyblue"><strong>Chapter One, Part Four</strong></span></p><p></p><p></p><p>Abrina awoke with a gasp to find the cleric by her side, his hands hovering over her side. The wound was healed, but she could still feel the warmth over her blood on her skin. She struggled to rise and found she had returned to her normal size. Abrina was no longer the towering giant but as she glanced around the dark alley she discovered there were no more enemies to worry about.</p><p></p><p>“Are you okay?” asked the cleric.</p><p></p><p>“Yes,” Abrina responded, “I’ll be all right.”</p><p></p><p>The cleric nodded in return and left her side. “These men will die without our aid.”</p><p></p><p>For a moment, Abrina considered letting the painted men die, but she shook her head, discarding the thought. She rose and dug into her pack, finding a length of rope. Quickly, she tied the hands of the nearest unconscious man before whispering a prayer to relieve his ragged breathing.</p><p></p><p>She heard the others run off, down the sloping alley. They would be caught.</p><p></p><p>“Tell me,” she said forcefully to the man as his eyes fluttered open, “Why were you assaulting that man?”</p><p></p><p>He stared wide-eyed at her, his face turning to glance at the cleric that kneeled down at Abrina’s side. His eyes darted between the two of them, scared. “I . . . we . . . we were told to roughen him up. He shouldn’t be pokin’ around the orphanage.”</p><p></p><p>“What orphanage? Why not?” Abrina asked.</p><p></p><p>“The Lantern Street Orphanage,” said the cleric. “That is where I was coming from tonight when they attacked.”</p><p></p><p>The painted man nodded, then shrugged. “But I don’t know why. We were hired. It was nothing big, we weren’t going to hurt him.”</p><p></p><p>“Hired” questioned Abrina. “Who? And why are your faces painted like that? Who are Urikas and Tercival?” Her questions tumbled from her mouth faster than her prisoner could form answers as she shook his collar. He shook his head.</p><p></p><p>“I don’t know, I don’t know,” he said emphatically. “The Last Laugh hired us, Jil was going to pay us-”</p><p></p><p>He stopped abruptly, his last word ending in a strange gurgle. Abrina dropped the dying man and fell back, glancing quickly around the dark alley, trying to see shapes through the slanting rain.</p><p></p><p><span style="color: white">“Well done!”</span> cried out a voice, the same voice of the woman that attacker her at the inn. The cleric pointed to a dark shape clinging to a section of the building wall. The figure emerged from the shadows. “But you do not need any more information he might have given you. You have my name, not that it matters much. The cleric lives because we of the Last Laugh wish it so, not because of your misplaced bravado.”</p><p></p><p><span style="color: white">She pointed a baleful finger at the cleric. “Take these words back to your temple, priest. The children are lost and no longer Enlil’s concern.”</span> The woman, Jil, turned and rapidly climbed the brick wall like a spider, and before either Abrina or the cleric could respond, she leapt over the edge onto the roof, and was gone, leaving the two staring open-mouthed in the rain.</p><p></p><p>The cleric came to Abrina’s side. “My name is Ruphus,” he said, sliding his mace into his belt at his side. “I can take you to Urikas, if you seek her. She is my superior, and the head of my order during the absence of the high priest.”</p><p></p><p>“You are a cleric of Enlil?” Abrina asked. The situation was beginning to make sense to her, and she began to understand why she might have been attacked. Though what the orphans had to do with it she still could not fathom.</p><p></p><p>“Yes,” replied Ruphus.</p><p></p><p>“Then yes, let us go to your temple. I have a message to deliver.” She gestured to the scroll case, still cinched to her back.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="hbarsquared, post: 2246662, member: 4550"] [color=deepskyblue][b]Chapter One, Part Four[/b][/color] Abrina awoke with a gasp to find the cleric by her side, his hands hovering over her side. The wound was healed, but she could still feel the warmth over her blood on her skin. She struggled to rise and found she had returned to her normal size. Abrina was no longer the towering giant but as she glanced around the dark alley she discovered there were no more enemies to worry about. “Are you okay?” asked the cleric. “Yes,” Abrina responded, “I’ll be all right.” The cleric nodded in return and left her side. “These men will die without our aid.” For a moment, Abrina considered letting the painted men die, but she shook her head, discarding the thought. She rose and dug into her pack, finding a length of rope. Quickly, she tied the hands of the nearest unconscious man before whispering a prayer to relieve his ragged breathing. She heard the others run off, down the sloping alley. They would be caught. “Tell me,” she said forcefully to the man as his eyes fluttered open, “Why were you assaulting that man?” He stared wide-eyed at her, his face turning to glance at the cleric that kneeled down at Abrina’s side. His eyes darted between the two of them, scared. “I . . . we . . . we were told to roughen him up. He shouldn’t be pokin’ around the orphanage.” “What orphanage? Why not?” Abrina asked. “The Lantern Street Orphanage,” said the cleric. “That is where I was coming from tonight when they attacked.” The painted man nodded, then shrugged. “But I don’t know why. We were hired. It was nothing big, we weren’t going to hurt him.” “Hired” questioned Abrina. “Who? And why are your faces painted like that? Who are Urikas and Tercival?” Her questions tumbled from her mouth faster than her prisoner could form answers as she shook his collar. He shook his head. “I don’t know, I don’t know,” he said emphatically. “The Last Laugh hired us, Jil was going to pay us-” He stopped abruptly, his last word ending in a strange gurgle. Abrina dropped the dying man and fell back, glancing quickly around the dark alley, trying to see shapes through the slanting rain. [color=white]“Well done!”[/color] cried out a voice, the same voice of the woman that attacker her at the inn. The cleric pointed to a dark shape clinging to a section of the building wall. The figure emerged from the shadows. “But you do not need any more information he might have given you. You have my name, not that it matters much. The cleric lives because we of the Last Laugh wish it so, not because of your misplaced bravado.” [color=white]She pointed a baleful finger at the cleric. “Take these words back to your temple, priest. The children are lost and no longer Enlil’s concern.”[/color] The woman, Jil, turned and rapidly climbed the brick wall like a spider, and before either Abrina or the cleric could respond, she leapt over the edge onto the roof, and was gone, leaving the two staring open-mouthed in the rain. The cleric came to Abrina’s side. “My name is Ruphus,” he said, sliding his mace into his belt at his side. “I can take you to Urikas, if you seek her. She is my superior, and the head of my order during the absence of the high priest.” “You are a cleric of Enlil?” Abrina asked. The situation was beginning to make sense to her, and she began to understand why she might have been attacked. Though what the orphans had to do with it she still could not fathom. “Yes,” replied Ruphus. “Then yes, let us go to your temple. I have a message to deliver.” She gestured to the scroll case, still cinched to her back. [/QUOTE]
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