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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: 2801083" data-attributes="member: 15187"><p>As the trackers were nearing the end of their pursuit, Bastien, Morgan and Stravarius were standing outside the lighthouse. A reddish glow limned the edges of the tower as the setting sun shed the last of its strength against its back. The simple door at its base stood carelessly ajar, allowing easy access within. Stravarius was the first to enter, followed closely by the others. The red tinged gloom of the interior made detail indistinct for the humans, but Stravarius was not at all inconvenienced. </p><p></p><p>The circular room encompassed the entire diameter of the lighthouse. It was simply furnished with a wooden bench, chairs and a large cupboard. A sturdy ladder was fixed to the eastern arc of the chamber, allowing access to the level above. A pool of dark liquid had collected at the base of the ladder, and even as Stravarius looked, another heavy drop fell to augment the puddle. The light shining through the west facing window gave the liquid a deep burgundy colour. Fearing the worst, he ran to the ladder and climbed to the next level. This was a bedroom, furnished in the same style as below. Stravarius climbed on, a cursory glance having revealed nothing out of the ordinary. </p><p></p><p>The first thing he noticed as his head cleared the floor of the top level was a large oil flask lying on its side. A thick residue swelled against its slightly elevated lip, slowly evolving a tiny droplet that would eventually detach itself and plummet to the ground floor. The relief he felt at this mundane explanation was immediately quashed by the sight of the dead body lying against the southern wall. It was that of a man, sturdily built and clothed in garb similar to that of the villagers he had seen. His arms lay carelessly outstretched, and his head lay at an unnatural angle close to the white painted wall. A pool of blood had congealed around his head like an unholy halo, and what had once been a rich blonde beard was now dark and crumbly from having been steeped in the vital fluid. </p><p></p><p>Even before he had fully assimilated the full portent of the corpse his attention was diverted to the smell of burnt flesh and the second body. A brigand by the look of him, he wore thick boots, black trousers and battered leather armour. He was sprawled in embrace of wondrous device of iron and crystal that was mounted on a low stone pedestal. A bright light played out from the crystal lenses, the refracted image of the steady flame burned in its heart. Some great force must have thrown him into the centre of the room and against the bright shining device. Through some ingenious mechanism, (the green glow emitted from Stravarius’ rapier made him suspect magic) caused the light to spin slowly in circles, trailing its radiance across the windows which lined the walls of the lighthouse. A goodly portion of this path was obscured by the bandit’s head, right side cheek burnt to charcoal against the hot glass. The ladder behind Stravarius shivered violently as Bastien and Morgan climbed in haste to join him. </p><p></p><p>Stravarius’ hood concealed his features but in this instance there was little emotion to betray on the face beneath. Once, this loss of life would have deeply saddened him, especially that of the lighthouse keeper cut down while in the execution of his honest duty. He was different now, and the site of death left him largely unmoved. In the barrows he had been broken, altered, tortured, remade, changed, not just once but countless times. Death seemed a trivial thing in comparison and he could no longer bridge the gap between his own experiences and the relatively quick end this poor man had suffered. </p><p></p><p>He turned to face his companions who now crowded into the room. Both were accustomed to life’s harsh truths and neither betrayed a great deal more emotion than Stravarius. Morgan stepped forward and pulled the bandit back from the light. The body sprawled backwards onto the floor, revealing the handle of a knife jutting between the ribs. Curiously, the left hand of the vanquished assailant was tightly clenched. Stravarius pried the hand open, revealing a red tinged gold coin. The soft glow from his sword shifted towards blue as he picked up the coin. As soon as it left the bandits hand, the corpse’s appearance wavered and transformed. Where once there had been thick boots and armour there now was light canvas shoes, thin white trousers and a badly frayed red shirt. </p><p></p><p>“What have we here, a pirate by the look of him. And disguised by a sorcerer’s coin it seems.” Bastien shook his head in perplexion. “Now who would go to such lengths to hide their identity for a simple village raid?” Morgan and Stravarius shrugged. A search of the pirate’s body unearthed a few silver sickles but nothing else of interest. Every few seconds, the light from the mechanism played eerily across their features as cast forth its piercing radiance without interference once again. Morgan absently righted the overturned oil flask as he made his descent down the ladder. The others followed and the three began the walk back to the monastery.</p><p></p><p>Gerard and Mortec had been working diligently to try and fathom the reason behind the library’s desecration. Initially, the scale of the destruction had daunted them and they were unable to perceive any pattern to what had been taken. It was only on closely questioning Jessop that they gained a vital insight into their task. The little monk had settled himself against a worktable leg, clutching a large and precious volume to his chest and watching with wild, unsettled eyes as the gnome and nobleman tried to set things to rights. He meekly repeated the details of his harrowing experience in a weak, atonal voice.</p><p></p><p>When his story reached the point where he overheard the interrogation of his brother monks, Mortec interjected and demanded specific details on what they had been asked. Jessop frowned in concentration and then hesitantly suggested that the questioner had seemed very interested in lore on unnatural creatures and also specific events of local history. Appreciating the gnomes line of reasoning he shook off his lassitude and mentioned that these were the areas of knowledge that the kidnapped Brothers Thom and Goethra had specialised in.</p><p></p><p>Working with greater purpose, Gerard and Mortec resumed their catalogue of the library’s scattered contents. By scanning the titles of the tomes and scrolls and making use of Jessop’s own knowledge of the works, they quickly confirmed that the room had been denuded of all its works relating to the two subjects in question. Unfortunately, Jessop was not well acquainted with the contents of the missing volumes so they were no closer to guessing the significance of the purloined lore.</p><p></p><p>The sight of the two visitors trying to bring order to the library acted as something of a tonic to the bereaved monk and his ancient calling stirred him to pull himself together and offer his assistance. The work of restoration took on an atmosphere of companionable silence as each attended to his own section of the library. Occasionally, a particularly interesting work would slow the work of one of them as they felt compelled to peruse the contents. At other times the silence was punctuated by draw out sighs or curses as a scholarly treasure was found to be badly damaged. By the time Stravarius and the others returned they had finished with the first level and made a start on the second.</p><p></p><p>The two parties exchanged information and then Bastien suggested returning to the village to see what Argonne had found. Gerard exchanged a glance with Mortec and then politely demurred. The pair had decided to stay spend the evening working in the monastery and would rejoin the others in the village in the morning. Bastien offered to see to the burial of the murdered brethren, but Jessop assured him that this melancholy task would be performed by him in accordance with Laster’s funerary rites. As Stravarius and Morgan were not inclined to spend the night in the abbey, they accompanied their leader back to Ravenswood.</p><p></p><p>Full night had descended by the time Bastien and his two companions were reunited with Argonne and Moxadder. The latter pair had reached the village only shortly before them. They discussed their varied findings and between them they composed a detailed picture of the true events of the raid. Pirates had landed in a secluded cove in the early hours of the morning and made their way overland to Leith’s Abbey, Ravenswood, and the lighthouse. Disguised as bandits through either mundane or sorcerous means, they attacked quickly and efficiently, kidnapping people knowledgeable in local history and mystical beasts and taking some care to cover their tracks by also seizing some young women and ordinary valuables.</p><p></p><p>Only two things had gone wrong in this well executed raid. The pirate assigned to murder the lighthouse keeper died even as he killed his victim and Brother Jessop had avoided detection in the abbey. Had it not been for the latter, it would have been extremely unlikely that they could have guessed the true purpose of the raid.</p><p></p><p>Bastien informed the villagers of the broad facts, confirming that it was indeed pirates who had wrought this great hurt upon them and telling them of the outrages committed against the abbey and lighthouse. As this news upset the villagers even further, he omitted mentioning the true reason for the attack. He judged it too complex a matter for the simple folk to fully comprehend and saw little advantage in broadcasting the fact they had divined the true nature of events. Soon after, the companions availed themselves of the hospitality the villagers extended despite their losses and sought the solace of sleep. The night passed uncomfortably to the accompaniment of the occasion sob or cry in the night.</p><p></p><p>The following morning, joined by a bleary eyed Mortec and Gerard, the travellers began the last leg of their journey to Yorathton. Kurul appeared from behind a cottage at the last minute and the company was at full strength again. Despite the unpleasant night they had endured, their spirits were high. Bastien, was buoyed at the prospect of successfully completing the important task his liege had charged him with. Additionally, he was eager to report the tragic and sinister events that had befallen Ravenswood.</p><p></p><p>For the aspirants, the prospect of an end to the arduous journey was reward enough. They were also excited by and apprehensive of the welcome they would receive from their as yet unseen benefactor. Speculation on the nature of the tests that Bastien had alluded to began to occupy their minds. Finally, they knew Yorathton to be a moderately developed town, and though not in any way comparable to the decadent attractions offered by Halfast, they were eager to taste of the little comforts offered by this thin slice of civilisation.</p><p></p><p style="text-align: center">*****</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Fiasco, post: 2801083, member: 15187"] As the trackers were nearing the end of their pursuit, Bastien, Morgan and Stravarius were standing outside the lighthouse. A reddish glow limned the edges of the tower as the setting sun shed the last of its strength against its back. The simple door at its base stood carelessly ajar, allowing easy access within. Stravarius was the first to enter, followed closely by the others. The red tinged gloom of the interior made detail indistinct for the humans, but Stravarius was not at all inconvenienced. The circular room encompassed the entire diameter of the lighthouse. It was simply furnished with a wooden bench, chairs and a large cupboard. A sturdy ladder was fixed to the eastern arc of the chamber, allowing access to the level above. A pool of dark liquid had collected at the base of the ladder, and even as Stravarius looked, another heavy drop fell to augment the puddle. The light shining through the west facing window gave the liquid a deep burgundy colour. Fearing the worst, he ran to the ladder and climbed to the next level. This was a bedroom, furnished in the same style as below. Stravarius climbed on, a cursory glance having revealed nothing out of the ordinary. The first thing he noticed as his head cleared the floor of the top level was a large oil flask lying on its side. A thick residue swelled against its slightly elevated lip, slowly evolving a tiny droplet that would eventually detach itself and plummet to the ground floor. The relief he felt at this mundane explanation was immediately quashed by the sight of the dead body lying against the southern wall. It was that of a man, sturdily built and clothed in garb similar to that of the villagers he had seen. His arms lay carelessly outstretched, and his head lay at an unnatural angle close to the white painted wall. A pool of blood had congealed around his head like an unholy halo, and what had once been a rich blonde beard was now dark and crumbly from having been steeped in the vital fluid. Even before he had fully assimilated the full portent of the corpse his attention was diverted to the smell of burnt flesh and the second body. A brigand by the look of him, he wore thick boots, black trousers and battered leather armour. He was sprawled in embrace of wondrous device of iron and crystal that was mounted on a low stone pedestal. A bright light played out from the crystal lenses, the refracted image of the steady flame burned in its heart. Some great force must have thrown him into the centre of the room and against the bright shining device. Through some ingenious mechanism, (the green glow emitted from Stravarius’ rapier made him suspect magic) caused the light to spin slowly in circles, trailing its radiance across the windows which lined the walls of the lighthouse. A goodly portion of this path was obscured by the bandit’s head, right side cheek burnt to charcoal against the hot glass. The ladder behind Stravarius shivered violently as Bastien and Morgan climbed in haste to join him. Stravarius’ hood concealed his features but in this instance there was little emotion to betray on the face beneath. Once, this loss of life would have deeply saddened him, especially that of the lighthouse keeper cut down while in the execution of his honest duty. He was different now, and the site of death left him largely unmoved. In the barrows he had been broken, altered, tortured, remade, changed, not just once but countless times. Death seemed a trivial thing in comparison and he could no longer bridge the gap between his own experiences and the relatively quick end this poor man had suffered. He turned to face his companions who now crowded into the room. Both were accustomed to life’s harsh truths and neither betrayed a great deal more emotion than Stravarius. Morgan stepped forward and pulled the bandit back from the light. The body sprawled backwards onto the floor, revealing the handle of a knife jutting between the ribs. Curiously, the left hand of the vanquished assailant was tightly clenched. Stravarius pried the hand open, revealing a red tinged gold coin. The soft glow from his sword shifted towards blue as he picked up the coin. As soon as it left the bandits hand, the corpse’s appearance wavered and transformed. Where once there had been thick boots and armour there now was light canvas shoes, thin white trousers and a badly frayed red shirt. “What have we here, a pirate by the look of him. And disguised by a sorcerer’s coin it seems.” Bastien shook his head in perplexion. “Now who would go to such lengths to hide their identity for a simple village raid?” Morgan and Stravarius shrugged. A search of the pirate’s body unearthed a few silver sickles but nothing else of interest. Every few seconds, the light from the mechanism played eerily across their features as cast forth its piercing radiance without interference once again. Morgan absently righted the overturned oil flask as he made his descent down the ladder. The others followed and the three began the walk back to the monastery. Gerard and Mortec had been working diligently to try and fathom the reason behind the library’s desecration. Initially, the scale of the destruction had daunted them and they were unable to perceive any pattern to what had been taken. It was only on closely questioning Jessop that they gained a vital insight into their task. The little monk had settled himself against a worktable leg, clutching a large and precious volume to his chest and watching with wild, unsettled eyes as the gnome and nobleman tried to set things to rights. He meekly repeated the details of his harrowing experience in a weak, atonal voice. When his story reached the point where he overheard the interrogation of his brother monks, Mortec interjected and demanded specific details on what they had been asked. Jessop frowned in concentration and then hesitantly suggested that the questioner had seemed very interested in lore on unnatural creatures and also specific events of local history. Appreciating the gnomes line of reasoning he shook off his lassitude and mentioned that these were the areas of knowledge that the kidnapped Brothers Thom and Goethra had specialised in. Working with greater purpose, Gerard and Mortec resumed their catalogue of the library’s scattered contents. By scanning the titles of the tomes and scrolls and making use of Jessop’s own knowledge of the works, they quickly confirmed that the room had been denuded of all its works relating to the two subjects in question. Unfortunately, Jessop was not well acquainted with the contents of the missing volumes so they were no closer to guessing the significance of the purloined lore. The sight of the two visitors trying to bring order to the library acted as something of a tonic to the bereaved monk and his ancient calling stirred him to pull himself together and offer his assistance. The work of restoration took on an atmosphere of companionable silence as each attended to his own section of the library. Occasionally, a particularly interesting work would slow the work of one of them as they felt compelled to peruse the contents. At other times the silence was punctuated by draw out sighs or curses as a scholarly treasure was found to be badly damaged. By the time Stravarius and the others returned they had finished with the first level and made a start on the second. The two parties exchanged information and then Bastien suggested returning to the village to see what Argonne had found. Gerard exchanged a glance with Mortec and then politely demurred. The pair had decided to stay spend the evening working in the monastery and would rejoin the others in the village in the morning. Bastien offered to see to the burial of the murdered brethren, but Jessop assured him that this melancholy task would be performed by him in accordance with Laster’s funerary rites. As Stravarius and Morgan were not inclined to spend the night in the abbey, they accompanied their leader back to Ravenswood. Full night had descended by the time Bastien and his two companions were reunited with Argonne and Moxadder. The latter pair had reached the village only shortly before them. They discussed their varied findings and between them they composed a detailed picture of the true events of the raid. Pirates had landed in a secluded cove in the early hours of the morning and made their way overland to Leith’s Abbey, Ravenswood, and the lighthouse. Disguised as bandits through either mundane or sorcerous means, they attacked quickly and efficiently, kidnapping people knowledgeable in local history and mystical beasts and taking some care to cover their tracks by also seizing some young women and ordinary valuables. Only two things had gone wrong in this well executed raid. The pirate assigned to murder the lighthouse keeper died even as he killed his victim and Brother Jessop had avoided detection in the abbey. Had it not been for the latter, it would have been extremely unlikely that they could have guessed the true purpose of the raid. Bastien informed the villagers of the broad facts, confirming that it was indeed pirates who had wrought this great hurt upon them and telling them of the outrages committed against the abbey and lighthouse. As this news upset the villagers even further, he omitted mentioning the true reason for the attack. He judged it too complex a matter for the simple folk to fully comprehend and saw little advantage in broadcasting the fact they had divined the true nature of events. Soon after, the companions availed themselves of the hospitality the villagers extended despite their losses and sought the solace of sleep. The night passed uncomfortably to the accompaniment of the occasion sob or cry in the night. The following morning, joined by a bleary eyed Mortec and Gerard, the travellers began the last leg of their journey to Yorathton. Kurul appeared from behind a cottage at the last minute and the company was at full strength again. Despite the unpleasant night they had endured, their spirits were high. Bastien, was buoyed at the prospect of successfully completing the important task his liege had charged him with. Additionally, he was eager to report the tragic and sinister events that had befallen Ravenswood. For the aspirants, the prospect of an end to the arduous journey was reward enough. They were also excited by and apprehensive of the welcome they would receive from their as yet unseen benefactor. Speculation on the nature of the tests that Bastien had alluded to began to occupy their minds. Finally, they knew Yorathton to be a moderately developed town, and though not in any way comparable to the decadent attractions offered by Halfast, they were eager to taste of the little comforts offered by this thin slice of civilisation. [CENTER]*****[/CENTER] [/QUOTE]
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Anka Seth - The Rise of the Hydra (New Update April 19, 2007)
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