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Barsoom Tales II: Romance, Revolution and BLOODY REVENGE!!! -- COMPLETE
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<blockquote data-quote="barsoomcore" data-source="post: 3673612" data-attributes="member: 812"><p><strong>Another Fine Mess: 4</strong></p><p></p><p>Captain Fintan Garrickson looked up at the uproar near the gate. Patrol returning, he decided, and settled back to his study of the latest Naridic prisoners as they hauled wood into the center of the camp.</p><p></p><p>Two of the younger women were worth his time. He pointed them out to his aide and turned to the gate as the armoured parasaurs came in, the immense beasts as large as houses, plated howdahs hanging off either side to shield musketeers. Flags fluttering from the beasts' crests indicated prisoners, and further, the need for a Nevakada interrogation.</p><p></p><p>Garrickson cursed. While Kishak coin paid as well as any other, working alongside those cold-hearted Nevakada bastards would curl the spine of any man. The agent assigned to their operation, Kan Koshar, had a superficial politeness and civility that only made his cruel sadism even worse. Garrickson preferred a more straightforward approach. Some were strong, and some were weak. Those who lacked the wit to understand when they were outmatched, well, the world wouldn't miss them at all. No reason to go around poking at people just for the fun of it.</p><p></p><p>The Shaeric captain grinned as he saw one of the Naridic women he'd picked screaming, trying to fight off the soldiers who'd grabbed her. Some older man tried to interfere and took a pike haft to the face for his trouble. The woman didn't stop screaming or thrashing as they dragged her across the compound. A firey one for tonight would be just the thing.</p><p></p><p>"Ye'll want ta watch yerself with that one, Cap'n. Sahra's a real she-banth, she is."</p><p></p><p>Garrickson laughed and clapped his aide on the shoulder.</p><p></p><p>"Ah, ye know the lasses always calm down when I've explained the manner o' things ta them. Sahra'll be no trouble, for all her caterwauling."</p><p></p><p>"Aye, sir."</p><p></p><p>The two men, comfortable in their mail and open-faced helms, strolled towards where their soldiers were disembarking from the parasaurs. When the flags called for Nevakada investigation, it always profited to be present to see the wares before they were investigated.</p><p></p><p>Garrickson's eyebrows rose as the prisoners were filed out.</p><p></p><p>Only six. But of the six only two were Naridic, both of them young women trying not to look frightened. Garrickson felt a broad smile spread across his face, and did nothing to hide its predatory smugness.</p><p></p><p>The others included three Saijadani and one Kishak, to Garrickson's astonishment. He stopped where he stood and stared at the strange crew.</p><p></p><p>These were not the usual prisoners brought in around here. Not only in their nationality, but in their insouciant stance as they looked around, taking in the layout of the fort.</p><p></p><p>"Never ye mind them Saijadani fools. Have the skinny brown lass brought to me room. Tell Sahra it seems her lucky night."</p><p></p><p>"Aye."</p><p></p><p>*****</p><p></p><p>It was only once they'd reached the crucifixes surrounding the fort that Isaac stopped cursing Tariq's name. There had been no point to resisting; the Shaeric numbered some thirty or forty, riding in the strange howdahs they hung off the sides of the parasaur's high ridged backs. Snug behind armour plate they'd be near-impossible to hurt, and with their long-barrelled muskets it would only be matter of time before Isaac and his friends lay bleeding on the ground.</p><p></p><p>Tariq's smugness did nothing to ease the pain of capture. The gloating beni Howetait chieftan called out insult after insult as the Shaeric mercenaries deposited Isaac and his friends into tight cells aboard the beasts, taking their weapons and sparing no thought for their prisoner's comfort.</p><p></p><p>The only surprise, once he'd understood Tariq's betrayal, was Fayeeda's angry repudiation of her uncle's arrangement. For her righteous fury she was scooped up by the mercenaries, and had only her uncle's mocking laughter for a farewell.</p><p></p><p>They could smell the fort even before the first of the crucifixes came into view, but then they passed between dozens of tall poles from which hung horrid corpses, pecked and torn, some rotted, some still with the evidence of their tremendous suffering still visible on their hollow faces. The reek of blood and bile and rot filled the air.</p><p></p><p>The Kishak Empire sought control through terror and domination. The Tyrant's Shade, the undead creature who sat upon the Iron Throne of Kish, understood no other language.</p><p></p><p>They passed through the terrible forest and entered the gates of the fort.</p><p></p><p>The cell he crouched in was flipped open and, stretching strained legs, Isaac emerged into a dirt courtyard. Behind him the gates swung shut, pushed by a line of mail-clad soldiers. Before him the courtyard spanned a hundred paces; to his left a two-story building of dark cedar planks rose up, surrounded by a wide verandah; straight ahead in the open courtyard sullen Naridic people he assumed must be prisoners piled cordwood up in a tall cone, presumably in preparation for some large bonfire; and on his right a series of low, long huts lay in rows.</p><p></p><p>His attention turned to a heavy-set man whose more elaborate helmet and shoulder sash suggested a rank above the majority of the soldiers around them. Their guards saluted him as he approached. He sneered at the new prisoners.</p><p></p><p>"Ye're a sorry lot, aren't ye? Well, look to find no mercy here, I can tell ye that. If ye've got some fool to ransom ye, perhaps there's hope, or if ye know something and have the wit to conduct yerself well, perhaps ye'll do well enough. But I'll not hold my breath to it, I can tell ye that."</p><p></p><p>His gaze came to rest on Arrafin with a lasciviousness that enraged Isaac immediately. The burly Saijadani stepped forward with a snarl, but a pike head pressed against his chest stopped him. He glared in furious impotence.</p><p></p><p>Garrickson enjoyed the thin girl's expression of horror as she watched him approach.</p><p></p><p>"Sir. There must be a mistake. We are not -- "</p><p></p><p>She cut off as he pulled her against him and ground his mouth against hers. She tried to scream and push him away, but he paid no attention to her efforts. His hands slid down her robes, rough and grasping.</p><p></p><p>Elena watched in stunned horror as the soldier molested Arrafin right in front of them all. Isaac was about to impale himself on Shaeric pikes if something wasn't done, and to tell the truth, Elena was no less enraged than he.</p><p></p><p>Arrafin's delicate build and her ever-cheerful nature had endeared her greatly to Elena, whose own nature was sour and cynical, and who knew she brooded too much on things past. Her friendship with Arrafin had given her a great deal of solace over the weeks of their journey, and she cherished the younger girl like a little sister, one who was still a child. To see a girl she considered so innocent treated in such a violent manner infuriated Elena.</p><p></p><p>She reached out with her mind, trying to distract the soldier with her mental powers, but before she could make contact with him, another figure strode up to join them.</p><p></p><p>"Garrickson. Cease at once."</p><p></p><p>The Shaeric man turned to glare at the newcomer. This man was a Kishak, darker red in skin than Etienne, and dressed in a formal-looking harness of leather straps and jewels. He bore a slim rapier at his side. Elena couldn't help but admire his well-muscled torso, well-displayed in the Kishak traditional lack of dress. He turned grey eyes on them all.</p><p></p><p>"Interesting. Sent by the del Maraviez, isn't that right?"</p><p></p><p>Etienne started to speak. Isaac smacked him.</p><p></p><p>"We're not saying nothing to no one."</p><p></p><p>The Kishak smiled.</p><p></p><p>"You already have."</p><p></p><p>*****</p><p></p><p>"That bastard. How does he know everything? And if he knows everything, why is he asking us?"</p><p></p><p>Isaac scowled and picked splinters out of the floorboards of the narrow hut they'd been sealed up in after their harrowing interviews with the Nevakada agent. Kan Koshar had proven a skilled interrogator and had drawn out every detail of their mission. Isaac glowered. </p><p></p><p>Missing shingles overhead left the night sky visible to their view. He sat with Elena, Etienne and Nevid around a cold fire-pit. Arrafin sat at the far end of the hut, arm around a shivering Fayeeda.</p><p></p><p>While the Nevakada agent had interfered in Garrickson's assault on Arrafin, he'd done nothing when the Shaeric general had taken Fayeeda to his office. Arrafin listened to the younger girl sobbing with a sick helplessness in her heart.</p><p></p><p>Nevid looked up at Isaac.</p><p></p><p>"Because he's trying to determine how valuable we are to him. What we need to worry about is how we're going to find Achmed. He must be somewhere in this camp."</p><p></p><p>All four sat in silence, remembering glumly how poorly they'd managed to avoid the issues Kan Koshar had been interested in. Etienne turned to stare worriedly at Arrafin and Fayeeda.</p><p></p><p>"Are they alright, do you think? That bastard."</p><p></p><p>Elena nodded.</p><p></p><p>"Yeah. Hey, Arrafin."</p><p></p><p>The girl did not respond. Elena, frowning, got to her feet and crossed the room to her friend.</p><p></p><p>"Arrafin?"</p><p></p><p>Elena stepped back instinctively as a nimbus of black writhing tendrils suddenly erupted around her friend. They disappeared as quick as they had come, and Arrafin raised a tear-streaked face.</p><p></p><p>"I'm okay."</p><p></p><p>"What. What are you doing?"</p><p></p><p>There was a sudden flapping at the roof and a tiny bundle of fluff swept past Elena to land in front of Arrafin. The Saijadani woman stared.</p><p></p><p>A miniature owl sat there, appearing to study Arrafin. With its puffy feathers and wide eyes, it looked not entirely unlike the Naridic girl. The girl and the owl stared at each other.</p><p></p><p>"Arrafin? What is that?"</p><p></p><p>Arrafin's held a flat, hollow tone Elena had never heard before.</p><p></p><p>"His name is Gral. He's going to help me."</p><p></p><p>*****</p><p></p><p>Lying on his back, hands clasped behind his head, Captain Garrickson recalled the skinny frame of the Naridic girl he'd held earlier, the one Kan Koshar had forbidden him to have contact with. The local girl had been satisfyingly terrified, but he still longed for that slender girl with the Al-Tizim accent.</p><p></p><p>The Nevakada carried the authority of the Tyrant's Shade with them wherever they went.</p><p></p><p>But it was a long way from Hudra Keffil to the Iron Throne. Garrickson rolled up and called for his aide.</p><p></p><p>"Aye, sir?"</p><p></p><p>"Get that Achmed. Time he made his self useful. Tell him ta bring that skinny lass to us. And no need fer much fuss, is there?"</p><p></p><p>"Nay, sir. Aye, sir."</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="barsoomcore, post: 3673612, member: 812"] [b]Another Fine Mess: 4[/b] Captain Fintan Garrickson looked up at the uproar near the gate. Patrol returning, he decided, and settled back to his study of the latest Naridic prisoners as they hauled wood into the center of the camp. Two of the younger women were worth his time. He pointed them out to his aide and turned to the gate as the armoured parasaurs came in, the immense beasts as large as houses, plated howdahs hanging off either side to shield musketeers. Flags fluttering from the beasts' crests indicated prisoners, and further, the need for a Nevakada interrogation. Garrickson cursed. While Kishak coin paid as well as any other, working alongside those cold-hearted Nevakada bastards would curl the spine of any man. The agent assigned to their operation, Kan Koshar, had a superficial politeness and civility that only made his cruel sadism even worse. Garrickson preferred a more straightforward approach. Some were strong, and some were weak. Those who lacked the wit to understand when they were outmatched, well, the world wouldn't miss them at all. No reason to go around poking at people just for the fun of it. The Shaeric captain grinned as he saw one of the Naridic women he'd picked screaming, trying to fight off the soldiers who'd grabbed her. Some older man tried to interfere and took a pike haft to the face for his trouble. The woman didn't stop screaming or thrashing as they dragged her across the compound. A firey one for tonight would be just the thing. "Ye'll want ta watch yerself with that one, Cap'n. Sahra's a real she-banth, she is." Garrickson laughed and clapped his aide on the shoulder. "Ah, ye know the lasses always calm down when I've explained the manner o' things ta them. Sahra'll be no trouble, for all her caterwauling." "Aye, sir." The two men, comfortable in their mail and open-faced helms, strolled towards where their soldiers were disembarking from the parasaurs. When the flags called for Nevakada investigation, it always profited to be present to see the wares before they were investigated. Garrickson's eyebrows rose as the prisoners were filed out. Only six. But of the six only two were Naridic, both of them young women trying not to look frightened. Garrickson felt a broad smile spread across his face, and did nothing to hide its predatory smugness. The others included three Saijadani and one Kishak, to Garrickson's astonishment. He stopped where he stood and stared at the strange crew. These were not the usual prisoners brought in around here. Not only in their nationality, but in their insouciant stance as they looked around, taking in the layout of the fort. "Never ye mind them Saijadani fools. Have the skinny brown lass brought to me room. Tell Sahra it seems her lucky night." "Aye." ***** It was only once they'd reached the crucifixes surrounding the fort that Isaac stopped cursing Tariq's name. There had been no point to resisting; the Shaeric numbered some thirty or forty, riding in the strange howdahs they hung off the sides of the parasaur's high ridged backs. Snug behind armour plate they'd be near-impossible to hurt, and with their long-barrelled muskets it would only be matter of time before Isaac and his friends lay bleeding on the ground. Tariq's smugness did nothing to ease the pain of capture. The gloating beni Howetait chieftan called out insult after insult as the Shaeric mercenaries deposited Isaac and his friends into tight cells aboard the beasts, taking their weapons and sparing no thought for their prisoner's comfort. The only surprise, once he'd understood Tariq's betrayal, was Fayeeda's angry repudiation of her uncle's arrangement. For her righteous fury she was scooped up by the mercenaries, and had only her uncle's mocking laughter for a farewell. They could smell the fort even before the first of the crucifixes came into view, but then they passed between dozens of tall poles from which hung horrid corpses, pecked and torn, some rotted, some still with the evidence of their tremendous suffering still visible on their hollow faces. The reek of blood and bile and rot filled the air. The Kishak Empire sought control through terror and domination. The Tyrant's Shade, the undead creature who sat upon the Iron Throne of Kish, understood no other language. They passed through the terrible forest and entered the gates of the fort. The cell he crouched in was flipped open and, stretching strained legs, Isaac emerged into a dirt courtyard. Behind him the gates swung shut, pushed by a line of mail-clad soldiers. Before him the courtyard spanned a hundred paces; to his left a two-story building of dark cedar planks rose up, surrounded by a wide verandah; straight ahead in the open courtyard sullen Naridic people he assumed must be prisoners piled cordwood up in a tall cone, presumably in preparation for some large bonfire; and on his right a series of low, long huts lay in rows. His attention turned to a heavy-set man whose more elaborate helmet and shoulder sash suggested a rank above the majority of the soldiers around them. Their guards saluted him as he approached. He sneered at the new prisoners. "Ye're a sorry lot, aren't ye? Well, look to find no mercy here, I can tell ye that. If ye've got some fool to ransom ye, perhaps there's hope, or if ye know something and have the wit to conduct yerself well, perhaps ye'll do well enough. But I'll not hold my breath to it, I can tell ye that." His gaze came to rest on Arrafin with a lasciviousness that enraged Isaac immediately. The burly Saijadani stepped forward with a snarl, but a pike head pressed against his chest stopped him. He glared in furious impotence. Garrickson enjoyed the thin girl's expression of horror as she watched him approach. "Sir. There must be a mistake. We are not -- " She cut off as he pulled her against him and ground his mouth against hers. She tried to scream and push him away, but he paid no attention to her efforts. His hands slid down her robes, rough and grasping. Elena watched in stunned horror as the soldier molested Arrafin right in front of them all. Isaac was about to impale himself on Shaeric pikes if something wasn't done, and to tell the truth, Elena was no less enraged than he. Arrafin's delicate build and her ever-cheerful nature had endeared her greatly to Elena, whose own nature was sour and cynical, and who knew she brooded too much on things past. Her friendship with Arrafin had given her a great deal of solace over the weeks of their journey, and she cherished the younger girl like a little sister, one who was still a child. To see a girl she considered so innocent treated in such a violent manner infuriated Elena. She reached out with her mind, trying to distract the soldier with her mental powers, but before she could make contact with him, another figure strode up to join them. "Garrickson. Cease at once." The Shaeric man turned to glare at the newcomer. This man was a Kishak, darker red in skin than Etienne, and dressed in a formal-looking harness of leather straps and jewels. He bore a slim rapier at his side. Elena couldn't help but admire his well-muscled torso, well-displayed in the Kishak traditional lack of dress. He turned grey eyes on them all. "Interesting. Sent by the del Maraviez, isn't that right?" Etienne started to speak. Isaac smacked him. "We're not saying nothing to no one." The Kishak smiled. "You already have." ***** "That bastard. How does he know everything? And if he knows everything, why is he asking us?" Isaac scowled and picked splinters out of the floorboards of the narrow hut they'd been sealed up in after their harrowing interviews with the Nevakada agent. Kan Koshar had proven a skilled interrogator and had drawn out every detail of their mission. Isaac glowered. Missing shingles overhead left the night sky visible to their view. He sat with Elena, Etienne and Nevid around a cold fire-pit. Arrafin sat at the far end of the hut, arm around a shivering Fayeeda. While the Nevakada agent had interfered in Garrickson's assault on Arrafin, he'd done nothing when the Shaeric general had taken Fayeeda to his office. Arrafin listened to the younger girl sobbing with a sick helplessness in her heart. Nevid looked up at Isaac. "Because he's trying to determine how valuable we are to him. What we need to worry about is how we're going to find Achmed. He must be somewhere in this camp." All four sat in silence, remembering glumly how poorly they'd managed to avoid the issues Kan Koshar had been interested in. Etienne turned to stare worriedly at Arrafin and Fayeeda. "Are they alright, do you think? That bastard." Elena nodded. "Yeah. Hey, Arrafin." The girl did not respond. Elena, frowning, got to her feet and crossed the room to her friend. "Arrafin?" Elena stepped back instinctively as a nimbus of black writhing tendrils suddenly erupted around her friend. They disappeared as quick as they had come, and Arrafin raised a tear-streaked face. "I'm okay." "What. What are you doing?" There was a sudden flapping at the roof and a tiny bundle of fluff swept past Elena to land in front of Arrafin. The Saijadani woman stared. A miniature owl sat there, appearing to study Arrafin. With its puffy feathers and wide eyes, it looked not entirely unlike the Naridic girl. The girl and the owl stared at each other. "Arrafin? What is that?" Arrafin's held a flat, hollow tone Elena had never heard before. "His name is Gral. He's going to help me." ***** Lying on his back, hands clasped behind his head, Captain Garrickson recalled the skinny frame of the Naridic girl he'd held earlier, the one Kan Koshar had forbidden him to have contact with. The local girl had been satisfyingly terrified, but he still longed for that slender girl with the Al-Tizim accent. The Nevakada carried the authority of the Tyrant's Shade with them wherever they went. But it was a long way from Hudra Keffil to the Iron Throne. Garrickson rolled up and called for his aide. "Aye, sir?" "Get that Achmed. Time he made his self useful. Tell him ta bring that skinny lass to us. And no need fer much fuss, is there?" "Nay, sir. Aye, sir." [/QUOTE]
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