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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: 2743411" data-attributes="member: 15187"><p>Moments later the guards belatedly arrived at the Duchess’ side, chests heaving and hands trembling from nerves and battle fatigue. With dull eyes they gazed upon the companions as the last of the light guttered gently into the night.</p><p></p><p>The clatter of hooves intruded upon them before any words could be exchanged. Steel rasped harshly in the darkness as mounted men moved forwards and bared their weapons at Bastien's charges. Somewhat separate from the others, Moxadder and Argonne remained concealed in the poor light as they rifled through the possessions of the lepers. The new arrivals consisted of well armed and armoured men bearing the livery of Prince Brand, royal scion of the King of Guerney. It was this worthy himself who addressed himself to the young saviours. </p><p></p><p>"Who are you people that dare molest the Duchess?" His tone of voice was soft and contemptuous, stinging Gerard to the quick with it's arrogance. "You churls had best explain yourselves quickly". </p><p></p><p>"We have just defended her Grace from an assassination attempt... your Highness". Gerard's pause in delivering the honorific stopped just short of insolence. "Perhaps instead of accusing us of base acts, you might listen to our account of the events. I am Gerard de Mowbray, son of Sir Absquith de Mowbray.</p><p></p><p>"Mowbray...", mused Prince Brand, turning to one of his companions. Pitching his voice so that it might clearly heard by all, he continued. "That does bring to mind some clod hopping low nobles of little account, still... any dog may jump to the call of its master's name. Show me your signet ring, if you truly are what you claim." The last was drawled as the prince turned once again to face the subject of his musings. </p><p></p><p>Gerard’s ingratiating smile cost him dearly as he approached the nobleman and proffered his ring with a flourish. The affront to his dignity was profound, and he was grateful that the poor light hid his shame. One of Brand's courtiers reached forward and plucked the ring from Gerard's palm and then passed it disdainfully to his master. Brand barely glanced at the ring before negligently tossing the item back in Gerard's direction. "Hmm, it seems the lordling speaks truth, indeed why would one falsely seek to claim such ancestry.” His expression softened fractionally, “well now, it seems you may have done some good work after all, explain what happened". </p><p></p><p>With a belated glance to Bastien for approval, Gerard succinctly related the details of the attack. With the Duchess' surviving guards corroborating his tale, the truth of his words were clear to all. Gerard's concluding phrases were punctuated by the blaring of horns of the city watch. Bellowed orders and the stamp of booted feet could be heard approaching from the heart of the city.</p><p></p><p>"It seems you are to be commended", Brand reluctantly concluded. "It is best, however if I see to the comfort of Her Grace Servessa. You are no longer needed". With that, the prince placed his arm familiarly around the duchess who was only just now shaking off the bewilderment of her head wound. With polished speed, the prince's men turned smartly and formed an escort around the pair. As he rode off, the prince negligently plucked a small purse from his waist and flung it at Gerard’s feet. "Some coin, to reward you for your work" he said over as his shoulder as he rode off into the early night. Gerard did not even look at the fallen object, focussed as he was on his offended sensibilities. To be addressed so slightingly was a new experience for him, and the fact that Brand was socially within his rights to do so made it cut particularly deep. </p><p></p><p>"He shouldn't speak to me like that, the bastard!" he muttered to himself. Unfortunately, the moment for a clever retort had passed, and all that was left was to look to his companions. He stepped back to join Bastien and those of the others who had born silent witness to the interrogation. </p><p></p><p>The noise of the approaching watch impinged on their attention again, and Bastien signalled for the party to form into a group and await orders. Moxadder, who had been looting the corpses all the while, had no complaints with seeking anonymity amongst his companions. To his disappointment, the assassins had carried little in coin, but the two daggers he had lifted were a great comfort to him. At least now he was armed. </p><p></p><p>Apart from these items, they'd had little of value or out of ordinary, barring a strange demonic head tattooed on the back of their necks. To Moxadder’s professional eye there was something disquieting about the work. It looked as if the dye had been driven deep into the flesh with no regard for the pain the subject would have endured. Nowhere in his vagabond journeys had Moxadder seen such work, and the meaning of the design was lost on him. Defeated, he dismissed their disturbing image from consciousness and rejoined the others.</p><p></p><p>His company now gathered together, Bastien signalled them to remain behind him as he turned to face the approaching guards. Noting that the crate of brandy was still unattended, he quickly slipped a couple of flasks into a belt pouch and took a third to hand. The others watched as their recruiter explained matters to the newly arrived watch captain, pointing first to the corpses and then at them as he explained the events. A few commiserated oaths about the daring of the attack, the passing over of first one, then two brandy bottles, and the companions were free to go. By unspoken agreement, they turned their steps towards the comforting familiarity of the Green Arms.</p><p></p><p style="text-align: center">*******</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Fiasco, post: 2743411, member: 15187"] Moments later the guards belatedly arrived at the Duchess’ side, chests heaving and hands trembling from nerves and battle fatigue. With dull eyes they gazed upon the companions as the last of the light guttered gently into the night. The clatter of hooves intruded upon them before any words could be exchanged. Steel rasped harshly in the darkness as mounted men moved forwards and bared their weapons at Bastien's charges. Somewhat separate from the others, Moxadder and Argonne remained concealed in the poor light as they rifled through the possessions of the lepers. The new arrivals consisted of well armed and armoured men bearing the livery of Prince Brand, royal scion of the King of Guerney. It was this worthy himself who addressed himself to the young saviours. "Who are you people that dare molest the Duchess?" His tone of voice was soft and contemptuous, stinging Gerard to the quick with it's arrogance. "You churls had best explain yourselves quickly". "We have just defended her Grace from an assassination attempt... your Highness". Gerard's pause in delivering the honorific stopped just short of insolence. "Perhaps instead of accusing us of base acts, you might listen to our account of the events. I am Gerard de Mowbray, son of Sir Absquith de Mowbray. "Mowbray...", mused Prince Brand, turning to one of his companions. Pitching his voice so that it might clearly heard by all, he continued. "That does bring to mind some clod hopping low nobles of little account, still... any dog may jump to the call of its master's name. Show me your signet ring, if you truly are what you claim." The last was drawled as the prince turned once again to face the subject of his musings. Gerard’s ingratiating smile cost him dearly as he approached the nobleman and proffered his ring with a flourish. The affront to his dignity was profound, and he was grateful that the poor light hid his shame. One of Brand's courtiers reached forward and plucked the ring from Gerard's palm and then passed it disdainfully to his master. Brand barely glanced at the ring before negligently tossing the item back in Gerard's direction. "Hmm, it seems the lordling speaks truth, indeed why would one falsely seek to claim such ancestry.” His expression softened fractionally, “well now, it seems you may have done some good work after all, explain what happened". With a belated glance to Bastien for approval, Gerard succinctly related the details of the attack. With the Duchess' surviving guards corroborating his tale, the truth of his words were clear to all. Gerard's concluding phrases were punctuated by the blaring of horns of the city watch. Bellowed orders and the stamp of booted feet could be heard approaching from the heart of the city. "It seems you are to be commended", Brand reluctantly concluded. "It is best, however if I see to the comfort of Her Grace Servessa. You are no longer needed". With that, the prince placed his arm familiarly around the duchess who was only just now shaking off the bewilderment of her head wound. With polished speed, the prince's men turned smartly and formed an escort around the pair. As he rode off, the prince negligently plucked a small purse from his waist and flung it at Gerard’s feet. "Some coin, to reward you for your work" he said over as his shoulder as he rode off into the early night. Gerard did not even look at the fallen object, focussed as he was on his offended sensibilities. To be addressed so slightingly was a new experience for him, and the fact that Brand was socially within his rights to do so made it cut particularly deep. "He shouldn't speak to me like that, the bastard!" he muttered to himself. Unfortunately, the moment for a clever retort had passed, and all that was left was to look to his companions. He stepped back to join Bastien and those of the others who had born silent witness to the interrogation. The noise of the approaching watch impinged on their attention again, and Bastien signalled for the party to form into a group and await orders. Moxadder, who had been looting the corpses all the while, had no complaints with seeking anonymity amongst his companions. To his disappointment, the assassins had carried little in coin, but the two daggers he had lifted were a great comfort to him. At least now he was armed. Apart from these items, they'd had little of value or out of ordinary, barring a strange demonic head tattooed on the back of their necks. To Moxadder’s professional eye there was something disquieting about the work. It looked as if the dye had been driven deep into the flesh with no regard for the pain the subject would have endured. Nowhere in his vagabond journeys had Moxadder seen such work, and the meaning of the design was lost on him. Defeated, he dismissed their disturbing image from consciousness and rejoined the others. His company now gathered together, Bastien signalled them to remain behind him as he turned to face the approaching guards. Noting that the crate of brandy was still unattended, he quickly slipped a couple of flasks into a belt pouch and took a third to hand. The others watched as their recruiter explained matters to the newly arrived watch captain, pointing first to the corpses and then at them as he explained the events. A few commiserated oaths about the daring of the attack, the passing over of first one, then two brandy bottles, and the companions were free to go. By unspoken agreement, they turned their steps towards the comforting familiarity of the Green Arms. [CENTER]*******[/CENTER] [/QUOTE]
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Anka Seth - The Rise of the Hydra (New Update April 19, 2007)
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