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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: 2847682" data-attributes="member: 15187"><p>Back in the hall the Hydra heard the sharp snick of the blade and the sound of Moxadder’s dagger clattering to the floor. With an inarticulate cry, Mortec charged from the room, fearing the worst for his companion. Stravarius followed close at his heels. Argonne cursed vociferously, but mastered his impulse to join them. Instead, he turned his attention to the cringing pirate. </p><p></p><p>“When t’wee chap asked if tha knew owt of any keys, why dinst’a say owt of trap!” the woodsman thundered. His voiced dropped dramatically, “Ah believe tha hast played us false, and tis as well ah have summat to remedy it.” He raised a large, clodhopping boot and kick the terrified man flat on his back. Then with grim deliberation he raised his great axe, making sure to wave it before the horrified faces of the other pirates. The pirate leader’s mouth trembled and he tried to plead for his life but only horrid dry croaks emerged. Quickly, before he could have second thoughts, Argonne brought his blade smashing down. Gerard was to hear that sickening crunch in his mind for days to come. </p><p></p><p>Fascinated, despite himself, the nobleman stared at the body amidst the cacophony of pleas, confessions and bargains the other pirates were yammering. Surprisingly, the head was still attached to the shoulders, the man’s long greasy hair had been thick enough to partially withstand the blade’s edge. This fact made him no less dead, however, for the force of the stroke had crushed his neck. The body lay motionless, completely reft of life and with a face disfigured by the wordless terror of the extinguished soul. </p><p></p><p>Gerard felt somewhat shocked, he had always taken Argonne for a lout but had not thought him capable of this level of savagery. Looking to his companions, he saw that with the exception of Morgan, all were equally disturbed. The Fastendian warrior merely stood impassively, regarding the surviving captives with cold eyes. He had been witness to far worse on the desperate battlefields of his homeland. </p><p></p><p>As Mortec ran to Moxadder's aid, he felt none of the ambivalence of his reaction to Morgan’s injury on the cliff top. The man had acted on his instructions and he could only hope his injury wasn’t fatal. Stravarius overtook him, his armour thumping rhythmically with his strides. </p><p></p><p>The Black Elf reached Moxadder and tried to staunch the heavy bleeding with the edge of his cloak. He worked feverishly until Mortec relieved him and called once more upon his Goddess. The flash of heat, reminiscent of a fire’s glow, washed across Stravarius’ face. He watched in fascination as the wound closed over completely and Moxadder’s shallow breathes deepened in the absence of pain. He coughed reflexively and sat up. Seeing the concerned faces staring at him he felt a strange sensation of relief. He tried to smile his thanks but only managed a sickly leer. Fortunately, his saviours knew him well enough to interpret this as one of gratitude. </p><p></p><p>Weakly, the tattooed beggar waved them back, uncomfortable with their proximity. He shifted position and whistled in awe at the size of the blade that projected from the door. With trembling hands, he withdrew a stick of devil weed from his pouch and stood, wincing in the anticipation of a pain that did not make itself felt. The torch flame was sufficient to light the weed despite the staccato movement of his hands. He inhaled deeply of its essence, welcoming the familiar rush of the Big Fear. Once the first exhilaration passed, he blinked back to awareness and saw that the other two were on their way back to their companions. “Just a little more of the weed”, Moxadder told himself, then he would join the others and help with whatever needed doing.</p><p></p><p>After performing the brutal execution, Argonne had been content to merely loom threateningly over the pirates while Gerard took up the questioning. It was a frustrating process. While deeply intimidated, the reavers were largely ignorant of any deeper purpose to their depredations. Apart from admitting the dead man had not been Rumscully Jack they had little to contribute except to avow that the remainder of the fleet was expected back at any time. The interrogation had degenerated into a futile cycle of accusations and denials by the time Mortec and Stravarius returned.</p><p></p><p>Argonne was about to enquire after Moxadder’s condition when he discerned movement by the nearer opening leading to the cove. He was amazed to see a large man walking past the opening with complete unconcern. This figure immediately struck him as the pirate leader they had been seeking. The massive red beard, prominent scars, fine clothes, arrogant swagger, gaudy jewellery and supple boots; in short, everything about the man spoke of success and daring. The face had calculation and cunning stamped deep into it while sea cold eyes spoke eloquently of black deeds done without a shadow of remorse. This had to be Rumscully Jack. Without hesitation, Argonne raised his axe and charged, screaming a wordless challenge all the way.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Fiasco, post: 2847682, member: 15187"] Back in the hall the Hydra heard the sharp snick of the blade and the sound of Moxadder’s dagger clattering to the floor. With an inarticulate cry, Mortec charged from the room, fearing the worst for his companion. Stravarius followed close at his heels. Argonne cursed vociferously, but mastered his impulse to join them. Instead, he turned his attention to the cringing pirate. “When t’wee chap asked if tha knew owt of any keys, why dinst’a say owt of trap!” the woodsman thundered. His voiced dropped dramatically, “Ah believe tha hast played us false, and tis as well ah have summat to remedy it.” He raised a large, clodhopping boot and kick the terrified man flat on his back. Then with grim deliberation he raised his great axe, making sure to wave it before the horrified faces of the other pirates. The pirate leader’s mouth trembled and he tried to plead for his life but only horrid dry croaks emerged. Quickly, before he could have second thoughts, Argonne brought his blade smashing down. Gerard was to hear that sickening crunch in his mind for days to come. Fascinated, despite himself, the nobleman stared at the body amidst the cacophony of pleas, confessions and bargains the other pirates were yammering. Surprisingly, the head was still attached to the shoulders, the man’s long greasy hair had been thick enough to partially withstand the blade’s edge. This fact made him no less dead, however, for the force of the stroke had crushed his neck. The body lay motionless, completely reft of life and with a face disfigured by the wordless terror of the extinguished soul. Gerard felt somewhat shocked, he had always taken Argonne for a lout but had not thought him capable of this level of savagery. Looking to his companions, he saw that with the exception of Morgan, all were equally disturbed. The Fastendian warrior merely stood impassively, regarding the surviving captives with cold eyes. He had been witness to far worse on the desperate battlefields of his homeland. As Mortec ran to Moxadder's aid, he felt none of the ambivalence of his reaction to Morgan’s injury on the cliff top. The man had acted on his instructions and he could only hope his injury wasn’t fatal. Stravarius overtook him, his armour thumping rhythmically with his strides. The Black Elf reached Moxadder and tried to staunch the heavy bleeding with the edge of his cloak. He worked feverishly until Mortec relieved him and called once more upon his Goddess. The flash of heat, reminiscent of a fire’s glow, washed across Stravarius’ face. He watched in fascination as the wound closed over completely and Moxadder’s shallow breathes deepened in the absence of pain. He coughed reflexively and sat up. Seeing the concerned faces staring at him he felt a strange sensation of relief. He tried to smile his thanks but only managed a sickly leer. Fortunately, his saviours knew him well enough to interpret this as one of gratitude. Weakly, the tattooed beggar waved them back, uncomfortable with their proximity. He shifted position and whistled in awe at the size of the blade that projected from the door. With trembling hands, he withdrew a stick of devil weed from his pouch and stood, wincing in the anticipation of a pain that did not make itself felt. The torch flame was sufficient to light the weed despite the staccato movement of his hands. He inhaled deeply of its essence, welcoming the familiar rush of the Big Fear. Once the first exhilaration passed, he blinked back to awareness and saw that the other two were on their way back to their companions. “Just a little more of the weed”, Moxadder told himself, then he would join the others and help with whatever needed doing. After performing the brutal execution, Argonne had been content to merely loom threateningly over the pirates while Gerard took up the questioning. It was a frustrating process. While deeply intimidated, the reavers were largely ignorant of any deeper purpose to their depredations. Apart from admitting the dead man had not been Rumscully Jack they had little to contribute except to avow that the remainder of the fleet was expected back at any time. The interrogation had degenerated into a futile cycle of accusations and denials by the time Mortec and Stravarius returned. Argonne was about to enquire after Moxadder’s condition when he discerned movement by the nearer opening leading to the cove. He was amazed to see a large man walking past the opening with complete unconcern. This figure immediately struck him as the pirate leader they had been seeking. The massive red beard, prominent scars, fine clothes, arrogant swagger, gaudy jewellery and supple boots; in short, everything about the man spoke of success and daring. The face had calculation and cunning stamped deep into it while sea cold eyes spoke eloquently of black deeds done without a shadow of remorse. This had to be Rumscully Jack. Without hesitation, Argonne raised his axe and charged, screaming a wordless challenge all the way. [/QUOTE]
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Anka Seth - The Rise of the Hydra (New Update April 19, 2007)
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