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Barsoom Tales I - COMPLETE
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<blockquote data-quote="barsoomcore" data-source="post: 1243730" data-attributes="member: 812"><p>"Explain to me once more how this seemed like a good idea."</p><p></p><p>Philip shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, his roughly stubbled face out of sorts with the refined interior of the del Orofin sitting room.</p><p></p><p>"Well, we're in, aren't we? And we didn't have to kill anybody, did we?"</p><p></p><p>The big Saijadani turned to glare at Elena.</p><p></p><p>"And what do we say when that door opens up and that bitch Collette walks in?"</p><p></p><p>They were seated (except for Nevid, who was standing) in the sitting room of the del Orofin house, waiting for Collette de Maynard to be announced. Philip tried again to recall how they'd come up with this plan. It was hard. They'd gone out drinking with Boyce last night at his favourite pub, The Dog's Breakfast, and well, of course they had to prove to a bunch of Gap yahoos that Saijadani were smarter, more morally upright and generally better-favoured by the winds of fortune -- which meant they of course had to drink more than their hosts.</p><p></p><p>Their hosts, thought Philip grumpily, who were probably still sleeping in this morning hour, while here he and his friends were, preparing to trade wits with the woman who'd so badly out-maneuvered them in their last encounter.</p><p></p><p>Let Nevid talk. Philip kept reminding himself of that. Let Nevid do the talking.</p><p></p><p>Risking a glance at the younger man, Philip noticed that Nevid had turned a rather interesting shade of pale green and was staring in a fixed sort of way at the windowsill. He recalled that of all of them, it had been Nevid who became the most vociferous in ordering more bottles of whatever it was they were drinking. And he had a vague recollection of CARRYING Nevid back to the River Inn. A recollection that involved watching Boyce and Elena stumble along, arms around each others' waists...</p><p></p><p>Philip scowled.</p><p></p><p>"Let's just leave. I have a very bad feeling about this."</p><p></p><p>Arrafin rolled her eyes.</p><p></p><p>"And tell them what? You already gave them your name."</p><p></p><p>She frowned at the door.</p><p></p><p>"I wonder what's taking her so long? Is she usually this slow? Or is this a Saijadani custom? Oh, but she's from the Gap, isn't she? On the other hand, this is a Saijadani house..."</p><p></p><p>The Naridic girl's voice trailed off as she got lost in contemplating the interactions of social niceties.</p><p></p><p>Elena ignored Philip and the others. She stared at the floorboards, trying to understand what had happened inside her mind since Kalibar had "awakened" her.</p><p></p><p>It was like discovering new muscles she'd never known she had. Muscles she could flex, and push, and relax. She couldn't say exactly HOW she made them work, but she could feel them responding to her commands. It was very strange, and more than a little bit intimidating.</p><p></p><p>She looked up as the door flew open.</p><p></p><p>Juan Antonio's gaze circled the room and settled on Philip. He smiled, a cold, vicious smile that made Elena want to punch him in the face. She got to her feet along with everyone else.</p><p></p><p>He wore a waistcoat of dark red velvet, yellow silk at his throat and fine leather leggings over his polished boots. His hair oiled back over his ears, making his face appear even more pointed and predatory than it already did. At his belt hung a slim rapier with a jeweled hilt. He rested his left hand on it.</p><p></p><p>"Collette sends her regards. She seems to think you mean trouble for us. Not that we're worried. Cringing little mutts like you aren't likely to interfere in matters requiring subtlety and intelligence."</p><p></p><p>Elena yawned.</p><p></p><p>"Let me know when you're done with lame insults, grease monkey."</p><p></p><p>Anger flashed in Juan Antonio's eyes. He whirled on Philip.</p><p></p><p>"Here to avenge your father's death? Think you had us fooled? Bah! We've been on to you for ages, del Valencia. How pathetic, your clumsy disguise. No doubt Philip died in a cave-in and you thought to run like the coward you are."</p><p></p><p>Arrafin, Elena and Nevid all frowned and turned to Philip. Arrafin began to speak.</p><p></p><p>"del Valencia? Isn't your name di Guz--"</p><p></p><p>"Your friend is not Philip di Guzma. Philip was an employee of THIS house. Your friend is Isaac del Valencia, the murderer of Philip di Guzma and son of a confessed traitor to Saijadan."</p><p></p><p>Philip's voice (or, more accurately if less familiarly, Isaac's voice) rattled in a low growl.</p><p></p><p>"You lie."</p><p></p><p>Juan Antonio barked a laugh.</p><p></p><p>"Do you want to hear how he begged for his life on the scaffold? How he cried like a frightened child?"</p><p></p><p>He paused and drew in a breath, savouring the moment.</p><p></p><p>"Or would you rather hear how your mother begged?"</p><p></p><p>Isaac's hand (or, less accurately if more familiarly, Philip's hand) gripped the hilt of his old-fashioned field sword.</p><p></p><p>"Don't you say a word about my mother."</p><p></p><p>"She didn't beg for her life, of course. She just begged.... for more."</p><p></p><p>Arrafin's eyes grew so wide they seemed to overlap.</p><p></p><p>"Don't you--"</p><p></p><p>"I wouldn't call her skilled, unfortunately, but she was... enthusiastic."</p><p></p><p>"Don't..."</p><p></p><p>"I don't blame you for your many failings, Isaac. After all, you are the son of a cowardly traitor..."</p><p></p><p>"Don't..."</p><p></p><p>"...and a whore."</p><p></p><p>The big sword hissed out of Isaac's sheath. Juan Antonio laughed and stepped back.</p><p></p><p>"You wish to play? Very well, young man. I am happy to accomodate you. But perhaps outside? I don't want to get your filthy coward's blood all over my fine furnishings."</p><p></p><p>Isaac could only growl, and began to follow Juan Antonio as their host left the room. Coming to a stop as Elena slammed the door shut in his face.</p><p></p><p>"Don't do this, Philip."</p><p></p><p>"Isaac. My name is Isaac."</p><p></p><p>"I don't care. Don't do this. He's too confident. He's going to kill you."</p><p></p><p>"My name is Isaac del Valencia. His family destroyed mine. They killed my father and they took my mother and they took our lands and they threw me into prison and they sent a man to kill me. I am the last del Valencia and I am going to kill him or put an end to this now."</p><p></p><p>Isaac tore open the door and stormed out. The other three all stared at each other, then raced to follow him.</p><p></p><p>Outside, a crowd was gathering. Juan Antonio had his hands in the air and was loudly declaiming to those assembled (and more arrived every second) about how he was being forced to cut down this witless young man who'd escaped from prison and was even now avoiding justice.</p><p></p><p>Philip took off his cloak and laid it by the steps. He scowled at Juan Antonio's theatrics and rolled his shoulders, shook his head from side to side as he descended to the street. He saw the tottering old butler come tottering out and pick up his cloak, then go tottering back inside just as his three friends emerged. He turned his back on them and drew his sword, swinging it through a few practice strokes as Juan Antonio continued to natter away.</p><p></p><p>The crowd had grown. Folks in Bayonne liked their duels public and with lots of fanfare, it seemed. Arrafin looked around for one of the familiar crimson robes of the Blood Council, but it seemed this duel would be fought without the sanction of the ancient order and its restrictions. She bit her lip and fretted as Juan Antonio and Philip -- or rather, Isaac -- faced one another.</p><p></p><p>Juan Antonio took his time. He pulled on his duelling gloves, light calfskin, and tugged at the silk cuffs of his shirt. Making a show of deliberation, he drew his rapier in a slow, fluid gesture and let it dangle from his hand as he studied Isaac's stance. He sneered at the heavy longsword of his opponent.</p><p></p><p>"No doubt you stole that from a museum somewhere?"</p><p></p><p>"It was my father's."</p><p></p><p>"Ah. Then it's never been used, I presume?"</p><p></p><p>"Whenever you're ready, del Orofin."</p><p></p><p>Juan Antonio bowed, smiled, and lunged.</p><p></p><p>Nevid managed to grin feebly at Elena.</p><p></p><p>"Guess we ARE going to kill somebody after all."</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="barsoomcore, post: 1243730, member: 812"] "Explain to me once more how this seemed like a good idea." Philip shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, his roughly stubbled face out of sorts with the refined interior of the del Orofin sitting room. "Well, we're in, aren't we? And we didn't have to kill anybody, did we?" The big Saijadani turned to glare at Elena. "And what do we say when that door opens up and that bitch Collette walks in?" They were seated (except for Nevid, who was standing) in the sitting room of the del Orofin house, waiting for Collette de Maynard to be announced. Philip tried again to recall how they'd come up with this plan. It was hard. They'd gone out drinking with Boyce last night at his favourite pub, The Dog's Breakfast, and well, of course they had to prove to a bunch of Gap yahoos that Saijadani were smarter, more morally upright and generally better-favoured by the winds of fortune -- which meant they of course had to drink more than their hosts. Their hosts, thought Philip grumpily, who were probably still sleeping in this morning hour, while here he and his friends were, preparing to trade wits with the woman who'd so badly out-maneuvered them in their last encounter. Let Nevid talk. Philip kept reminding himself of that. Let Nevid do the talking. Risking a glance at the younger man, Philip noticed that Nevid had turned a rather interesting shade of pale green and was staring in a fixed sort of way at the windowsill. He recalled that of all of them, it had been Nevid who became the most vociferous in ordering more bottles of whatever it was they were drinking. And he had a vague recollection of CARRYING Nevid back to the River Inn. A recollection that involved watching Boyce and Elena stumble along, arms around each others' waists... Philip scowled. "Let's just leave. I have a very bad feeling about this." Arrafin rolled her eyes. "And tell them what? You already gave them your name." She frowned at the door. "I wonder what's taking her so long? Is she usually this slow? Or is this a Saijadani custom? Oh, but she's from the Gap, isn't she? On the other hand, this is a Saijadani house..." The Naridic girl's voice trailed off as she got lost in contemplating the interactions of social niceties. Elena ignored Philip and the others. She stared at the floorboards, trying to understand what had happened inside her mind since Kalibar had "awakened" her. It was like discovering new muscles she'd never known she had. Muscles she could flex, and push, and relax. She couldn't say exactly HOW she made them work, but she could feel them responding to her commands. It was very strange, and more than a little bit intimidating. She looked up as the door flew open. Juan Antonio's gaze circled the room and settled on Philip. He smiled, a cold, vicious smile that made Elena want to punch him in the face. She got to her feet along with everyone else. He wore a waistcoat of dark red velvet, yellow silk at his throat and fine leather leggings over his polished boots. His hair oiled back over his ears, making his face appear even more pointed and predatory than it already did. At his belt hung a slim rapier with a jeweled hilt. He rested his left hand on it. "Collette sends her regards. She seems to think you mean trouble for us. Not that we're worried. Cringing little mutts like you aren't likely to interfere in matters requiring subtlety and intelligence." Elena yawned. "Let me know when you're done with lame insults, grease monkey." Anger flashed in Juan Antonio's eyes. He whirled on Philip. "Here to avenge your father's death? Think you had us fooled? Bah! We've been on to you for ages, del Valencia. How pathetic, your clumsy disguise. No doubt Philip died in a cave-in and you thought to run like the coward you are." Arrafin, Elena and Nevid all frowned and turned to Philip. Arrafin began to speak. "del Valencia? Isn't your name di Guz--" "Your friend is not Philip di Guzma. Philip was an employee of THIS house. Your friend is Isaac del Valencia, the murderer of Philip di Guzma and son of a confessed traitor to Saijadan." Philip's voice (or, more accurately if less familiarly, Isaac's voice) rattled in a low growl. "You lie." Juan Antonio barked a laugh. "Do you want to hear how he begged for his life on the scaffold? How he cried like a frightened child?" He paused and drew in a breath, savouring the moment. "Or would you rather hear how your mother begged?" Isaac's hand (or, less accurately if more familiarly, Philip's hand) gripped the hilt of his old-fashioned field sword. "Don't you say a word about my mother." "She didn't beg for her life, of course. She just begged.... for more." Arrafin's eyes grew so wide they seemed to overlap. "Don't you--" "I wouldn't call her skilled, unfortunately, but she was... enthusiastic." "Don't..." "I don't blame you for your many failings, Isaac. After all, you are the son of a cowardly traitor..." "Don't..." "...and a whore." The big sword hissed out of Isaac's sheath. Juan Antonio laughed and stepped back. "You wish to play? Very well, young man. I am happy to accomodate you. But perhaps outside? I don't want to get your filthy coward's blood all over my fine furnishings." Isaac could only growl, and began to follow Juan Antonio as their host left the room. Coming to a stop as Elena slammed the door shut in his face. "Don't do this, Philip." "Isaac. My name is Isaac." "I don't care. Don't do this. He's too confident. He's going to kill you." "My name is Isaac del Valencia. His family destroyed mine. They killed my father and they took my mother and they took our lands and they threw me into prison and they sent a man to kill me. I am the last del Valencia and I am going to kill him or put an end to this now." Isaac tore open the door and stormed out. The other three all stared at each other, then raced to follow him. Outside, a crowd was gathering. Juan Antonio had his hands in the air and was loudly declaiming to those assembled (and more arrived every second) about how he was being forced to cut down this witless young man who'd escaped from prison and was even now avoiding justice. Philip took off his cloak and laid it by the steps. He scowled at Juan Antonio's theatrics and rolled his shoulders, shook his head from side to side as he descended to the street. He saw the tottering old butler come tottering out and pick up his cloak, then go tottering back inside just as his three friends emerged. He turned his back on them and drew his sword, swinging it through a few practice strokes as Juan Antonio continued to natter away. The crowd had grown. Folks in Bayonne liked their duels public and with lots of fanfare, it seemed. Arrafin looked around for one of the familiar crimson robes of the Blood Council, but it seemed this duel would be fought without the sanction of the ancient order and its restrictions. She bit her lip and fretted as Juan Antonio and Philip -- or rather, Isaac -- faced one another. Juan Antonio took his time. He pulled on his duelling gloves, light calfskin, and tugged at the silk cuffs of his shirt. Making a show of deliberation, he drew his rapier in a slow, fluid gesture and let it dangle from his hand as he studied Isaac's stance. He sneered at the heavy longsword of his opponent. "No doubt you stole that from a museum somewhere?" "It was my father's." "Ah. Then it's never been used, I presume?" "Whenever you're ready, del Orofin." Juan Antonio bowed, smiled, and lunged. Nevid managed to grin feebly at Elena. "Guess we ARE going to kill somebody after all." [/QUOTE]
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