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Anka Seth - The Rise of the Hydra (New Update April 19, 2007)
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<blockquote data-quote="Fiasco" data-source="post: 2737701" data-attributes="member: 15187"><p>Chaos spilled across the stenching stones of the wharf. The lepers swung at the guards with wild vicious blows, forcing them to jerk and evade frantically, fending all the while with their unwieldy weapons. The Duchess’ horse took fright and added to the confusion, nudging a guard off balance as it reared and screamed in equine fear. A distance away, Gerard forced his leaden feet to action and ran to give assistance to the noblewoman.</p><p></p><p>Morgan’s mouth gaped in surprise at what he saw. An instant later he was running towards the battle, the brawling melee compelling him towards its vortex. In contrast, Moxadder’s shoulders slumped with disappointment. His dreams of an easy living faded as the group’s intention to intervene made itself clear. Unarmed and weak with a decades worth of bad living and worse luck, Moxadder determined not to sell his life for the bowl of soup consumed earlier. He’d fought the heartless charity of the priests of Thuus for too long to give up so easily. Perhaps sensing Moxadder’s reluctance, Bastien called on the group to aid the Duchess as he sprinted forwards. On nearing the battle he angled his run so that he might pass to the left of the action. A relieved Moxadder was at his heels, hoping that he might escape the confrontation unscathed while not showing himself an utter craven.</p><p></p><p>Gerard was the first to reach the conflict. Thinking swiftly, he shouted and slapped at the horse, seeking to drive it (and the Duchess) clear of danger. Unfortunately, he missed the panicked beast and barely avoided getting clipped over the ear by a flailing hoof. Seeing Gerard out of the corner of her eye, the Duchess cried “Unhand my horse, peasant!” and lashed her whip wildly at the young nobleman. Gerard was furious. Here he was trying gallantly to save the lady and she had the poor manners to mistake him for a common brigand; or worse yet, a crazed leper! Setting his jaw in frustration, he persisted with his attempts.</p><p></p><p>Slower in their response to the crisis, Stravarius and Argonne ran at their best speed to join the fray. Mortec thought the better of chasing his comrades as the human’s superior speed left him behind. Instead, he unslung his crossbow and hastily began to crank it back. Heart pumping painfully from the tension, he strained the drawstring into its catch and fumbled a bolt into place. As he raised the weapon and tried to sight around running companions, his finger jerked nervously and the bolt was loosed skirling into the glooming sky. Hissing in frustration, Mortec began maneuvering for a better vantage while attempting to reload the crossbow.</p><p></p><p>The lepers had not been idle and quite indifferent to the unexpected reinforcements, they pressed their attack. Not all of their stabbing thrusts and clubbing blows were effective, but their numbers were telling. A guard fell to the slimy cobbles, head staved in and life cut short. His comrades fought back desperately and a leper fell twitching to a pike thrust deep in his guts. The stallion reared again, pawing with its hooves and menacing guard and leper alike. The Duchess, her face a rictus of concentration fought to bend the crazed steed to her will. The noise of battle was eerie on the deserted wharf, the hoarse shouts of the guards and the shrill whinnying of the horse carried on the still waters of the dock and were reflected back as distorted echoes. More unsettling was the noise the lepers made, or rather its lack. Apart from a small grunt of effort when giving or receiving blows, the only sound they made was the shuffle of their bandaged feet. With their black robes hiding face and body, it was almost as if the guards strove to quell a pack of ghosts, who danced and gimbled away from their probing pikes.</p><p></p><p>Morgan joined the ranks of the sorely pressed guards and clutched desperately to free dagger from sheath. Gulping great breaths of air, he fought to steady himself amongst a blur of bodies, robes, pikes and clubs. Cooler headed, Bastien stood clear of the melee and waited patiently for an opening. A dagger appeared in his hand and his arm snapped forward with an assured motion. Crouching nearby, Moxadder followed the flight of the blade until it terminated in the throat of a leper. A dark shape above the melee then caught his attention. Looking up, he saw a large packing crate suspended from a crane. His eyes followed the taught supporting line down the arm of the crane to where it was secured at its base and inspiration seethed through his mind. Here was a way that he could prove himself to Bastian without risking his neck. Ignoring his companions in the thick of the fighting, he ran to where the rope was tied off.</p><p></p><p>The battle around the Duchess reached a fever pitch as Stravarius joined the combatants. He rasped his rapier clear of its scabbard and held the blade in the approximation of a guard position, awaiting an opportunity to strike. A loud twang heralded the passage of a bolt from Mortec's position, and sparks slithered across the cobbles some twenty feet from where the lepers fought. High-pitched curses issued sulphurously from the gnome as he readied his weapon for another attempt. </p><p></p><p>With a firm plan in mind, Argonne approached the battle from the opposite side to Stravarius. He had witnessed Gerard’s persistent attempts to clap the horse on its behind and shook his head at the ineptitude of the young fop. Moving nimbly around a dagger armed leper who menaced a guard; Argonne approached the head of the horse and attempted to grab it by the bridle. The duchess still wrestled for control of her mount and one of its wild gyrations intersected her head with the path of a club. The crack of wood and bone sounded clearly above the clash of weapons as the lady slewed violently in her saddle. This final impropriety was too much for the horse, who skittered sideways and bolted for freedom, its blundering path dashing both Argonne and a guard to the cobbles. Avoiding a clubbing attack from a leper, Morgan stepped back into the space vacated by the steed. He spotted the Duchess swaying mazily atop her steed and set off in pursuit, hoping to forestall any further mishap.</p><p></p><p>Observing the frenetic pace of the battle, Bastien cursed his lack of a backup weapon. Glancing to his side he noticed a half opened crate filled with bottles of brandy. It was but a moments thought to stoop towards the box and wing a bottle of booze at the head of a high leaping leper. The bottle missed narrowly but his oath of disappointment changed to a shout of delight as a massive crate fell out of the dusking sky to crush the head of his intended victim. Two other lepers were sent violently sprawling as the force of the impact blasted them from their feet. Bastien sought the cause of this providential stroke and was amazed to observe the raggedly Moxadder as its architect. Shaking his head in surprise, he fumbled for another bottle as he scanned eagerly for another target.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Fiasco, post: 2737701, member: 15187"] Chaos spilled across the stenching stones of the wharf. The lepers swung at the guards with wild vicious blows, forcing them to jerk and evade frantically, fending all the while with their unwieldy weapons. The Duchess’ horse took fright and added to the confusion, nudging a guard off balance as it reared and screamed in equine fear. A distance away, Gerard forced his leaden feet to action and ran to give assistance to the noblewoman. Morgan’s mouth gaped in surprise at what he saw. An instant later he was running towards the battle, the brawling melee compelling him towards its vortex. In contrast, Moxadder’s shoulders slumped with disappointment. His dreams of an easy living faded as the group’s intention to intervene made itself clear. Unarmed and weak with a decades worth of bad living and worse luck, Moxadder determined not to sell his life for the bowl of soup consumed earlier. He’d fought the heartless charity of the priests of Thuus for too long to give up so easily. Perhaps sensing Moxadder’s reluctance, Bastien called on the group to aid the Duchess as he sprinted forwards. On nearing the battle he angled his run so that he might pass to the left of the action. A relieved Moxadder was at his heels, hoping that he might escape the confrontation unscathed while not showing himself an utter craven. Gerard was the first to reach the conflict. Thinking swiftly, he shouted and slapped at the horse, seeking to drive it (and the Duchess) clear of danger. Unfortunately, he missed the panicked beast and barely avoided getting clipped over the ear by a flailing hoof. Seeing Gerard out of the corner of her eye, the Duchess cried “Unhand my horse, peasant!” and lashed her whip wildly at the young nobleman. Gerard was furious. Here he was trying gallantly to save the lady and she had the poor manners to mistake him for a common brigand; or worse yet, a crazed leper! Setting his jaw in frustration, he persisted with his attempts. Slower in their response to the crisis, Stravarius and Argonne ran at their best speed to join the fray. Mortec thought the better of chasing his comrades as the human’s superior speed left him behind. Instead, he unslung his crossbow and hastily began to crank it back. Heart pumping painfully from the tension, he strained the drawstring into its catch and fumbled a bolt into place. As he raised the weapon and tried to sight around running companions, his finger jerked nervously and the bolt was loosed skirling into the glooming sky. Hissing in frustration, Mortec began maneuvering for a better vantage while attempting to reload the crossbow. The lepers had not been idle and quite indifferent to the unexpected reinforcements, they pressed their attack. Not all of their stabbing thrusts and clubbing blows were effective, but their numbers were telling. A guard fell to the slimy cobbles, head staved in and life cut short. His comrades fought back desperately and a leper fell twitching to a pike thrust deep in his guts. The stallion reared again, pawing with its hooves and menacing guard and leper alike. The Duchess, her face a rictus of concentration fought to bend the crazed steed to her will. The noise of battle was eerie on the deserted wharf, the hoarse shouts of the guards and the shrill whinnying of the horse carried on the still waters of the dock and were reflected back as distorted echoes. More unsettling was the noise the lepers made, or rather its lack. Apart from a small grunt of effort when giving or receiving blows, the only sound they made was the shuffle of their bandaged feet. With their black robes hiding face and body, it was almost as if the guards strove to quell a pack of ghosts, who danced and gimbled away from their probing pikes. Morgan joined the ranks of the sorely pressed guards and clutched desperately to free dagger from sheath. Gulping great breaths of air, he fought to steady himself amongst a blur of bodies, robes, pikes and clubs. Cooler headed, Bastien stood clear of the melee and waited patiently for an opening. A dagger appeared in his hand and his arm snapped forward with an assured motion. Crouching nearby, Moxadder followed the flight of the blade until it terminated in the throat of a leper. A dark shape above the melee then caught his attention. Looking up, he saw a large packing crate suspended from a crane. His eyes followed the taught supporting line down the arm of the crane to where it was secured at its base and inspiration seethed through his mind. Here was a way that he could prove himself to Bastian without risking his neck. Ignoring his companions in the thick of the fighting, he ran to where the rope was tied off. The battle around the Duchess reached a fever pitch as Stravarius joined the combatants. He rasped his rapier clear of its scabbard and held the blade in the approximation of a guard position, awaiting an opportunity to strike. A loud twang heralded the passage of a bolt from Mortec's position, and sparks slithered across the cobbles some twenty feet from where the lepers fought. High-pitched curses issued sulphurously from the gnome as he readied his weapon for another attempt. With a firm plan in mind, Argonne approached the battle from the opposite side to Stravarius. He had witnessed Gerard’s persistent attempts to clap the horse on its behind and shook his head at the ineptitude of the young fop. Moving nimbly around a dagger armed leper who menaced a guard; Argonne approached the head of the horse and attempted to grab it by the bridle. The duchess still wrestled for control of her mount and one of its wild gyrations intersected her head with the path of a club. The crack of wood and bone sounded clearly above the clash of weapons as the lady slewed violently in her saddle. This final impropriety was too much for the horse, who skittered sideways and bolted for freedom, its blundering path dashing both Argonne and a guard to the cobbles. Avoiding a clubbing attack from a leper, Morgan stepped back into the space vacated by the steed. He spotted the Duchess swaying mazily atop her steed and set off in pursuit, hoping to forestall any further mishap. Observing the frenetic pace of the battle, Bastien cursed his lack of a backup weapon. Glancing to his side he noticed a half opened crate filled with bottles of brandy. It was but a moments thought to stoop towards the box and wing a bottle of booze at the head of a high leaping leper. The bottle missed narrowly but his oath of disappointment changed to a shout of delight as a massive crate fell out of the dusking sky to crush the head of his intended victim. Two other lepers were sent violently sprawling as the force of the impact blasted them from their feet. Bastien sought the cause of this providential stroke and was amazed to observe the raggedly Moxadder as its architect. Shaking his head in surprise, he fumbled for another bottle as he scanned eagerly for another target. [/QUOTE]
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Anka Seth - The Rise of the Hydra (New Update April 19, 2007)
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