Menu
News
All News
Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
Pathfinder
Starfinder
Warhammer
2d20 System
Year Zero Engine
Industry News
Reviews
Dragon Reflections
Columns
Weekly Digests
Weekly News Digest
Freebies, Sales & Bundles
RPG Print News
RPG Crowdfunding News
Game Content
ENterplanetary DimENsions
Mythological Figures
Opinion
Worlds of Design
Peregrine's Next
RPG Evolution
Other Columns
From the Freelancing Frontline
Monster ENcyclopedia
WotC/TSR Alumni Look Back
4 Hours w/RSD (Ryan Dancey)
The Road to 3E (Jonathan Tweet)
Greenwood's Realms (Ed Greenwood)
Drawmij's TSR (Jim Ward)
Community
Forums & Topics
Forum List
Latest Posts
Forum list
*Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
D&D Older Editions
*TTRPGs General
*Pathfinder & Starfinder
EN Publishing
*Geek Talk & Media
Search forums
Chat/Discord
Resources
Wiki
Pages
Latest activity
Media
New media
New comments
Search media
Downloads
Latest reviews
Search resources
EN Publishing
Store
EN5ider
Adventures in ZEITGEIST
Awfully Cheerful Engine
What's OLD is NEW
Judge Dredd & The Worlds Of 2000AD
War of the Burning Sky
Level Up: Advanced 5E
Events & Releases
Upcoming Events
Private Events
Featured Events
Socials!
Twitch
YouTube
Facebook (EN Publishing)
Facebook (EN World)
Twitter
Instagram
TikTok
Podcast
Features
Top 5 RPGs Compiled Charts 2004-Present
Adventure Game Industry Market Research Summary (RPGs) V1.0
Ryan Dancey: Acquiring TSR
Q&A With Gary Gygax
D&D Rules FAQs
TSR, WotC, & Paizo: A Comparative History
D&D Pronunciation Guide
Million Dollar TTRPG Kickstarters
Tabletop RPG Podcast Hall of Fame
Eric Noah's Unofficial D&D 3rd Edition News
D&D in the Mainstream
D&D & RPG History
About Morrus
Log in
Register
What's new
Search
Search
Search titles only
By:
Forums & Topics
Forum List
Latest Posts
Forum list
*Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
D&D Older Editions
*TTRPGs General
*Pathfinder & Starfinder
EN Publishing
*Geek Talk & Media
Search forums
Chat/Discord
Menu
Log in
Register
Install the app
Install
Community
Playing the Game
Story Hour
Curse of Darkness VIII - The Wild Hunt
JavaScript is disabled. For a better experience, please enable JavaScript in your browser before proceeding.
You are using an out of date browser. It may not display this or other websites correctly.
You should upgrade or use an
alternative browser
.
Reply to thread
Message
<blockquote data-quote="Greenfield" data-source="post: 5963150" data-attributes="member: 6669384"><p>The inner courtyard was kept clean by the labors of many acolytes, and several could be seen hurrying about as Sylus entered. As he waited there more seemed to be finding reasons why their business might take them there, for he was an odd sight, and the rumors were spreading fast and furious as the iron pen was assembled.</p><p> </p><p> They were confirmed when one of the senior handlers brought out a young tiger, white and black just as Sylus had envisioned. The animal was wild and anxious, pacing his cage and occasionally throwing himself against the bars in rage.</p><p> </p><p> “This is the test.”, the handler explained. “You will enter when you are ready. You will either walk out together, or you won’t walk out at all. Is this truly your wish?”</p><p> </p><p> Sylus nodded sharply and approached the cage. Carefully he settled down outside the bars, just beyond the reach of the great cat’s claws. He bowed to the beast, then brought his magic to bear. Soon he and the tiger were in communion.</p><p> </p><p> To those who looked on, it seemed as if he had been possessed, for he rose onto all fours, his body moving in a sinuous imitation of the tiger’s own. The senior monks, however, had seen this before, and explained to the younger students: “He is now speaking to the cat as an equal. We will see if the tiger accepts him as one.”</p><p> </p><p> Sylus caught the tiger’s gaze and held it with his own. “I would hunt with you, away from iron and stone walls. Will you hunt with me?”</p><p> </p><p> The cat matched his stare and grew still, his posture a mirror of Sylus’ own. “I hunt quickly, in snow and silence. Cold wind, hot blood, mountains and forests. Can you hunt with me?”</p><p> </p><p> Sylus replied, “My home is mountains and forests, snow and silence. I have hunted in cold night, and known hot blood. It is far from here, far from iron bars and the walls of man. The journey is far, and needs patience. Are you a patient hunter?”</p><p> </p><p> And so the exchange went on. Sylus entered the pen with the creature, and they faced each other with no barriers between them.</p><p> </p><p> One of the older students looked angrily to his master, questioning why such a rare prize might go to an outlander. The master silenced him with a look. </p><p> </p><p> “Your heart betrays you.”, he admonished the boy. “If you enter the tiger’s home with such anger, seeking to own him, you will surely perish. See how this one moves? He seeks neither domination, nor offers submission. It’s possible that he may truly understand the spirit of the tiger. If he lives to see the sunset tomorrow, the two will be as one.”</p><p> *** </p><p> The innkeeper at the Teak Tiger was surprised by the generosity of the foreign mercenaries. Carralon had taken a private room, as befit his position, and the drovers had taken a common one, but each of the mercenaries wanted separate chambers. The dark skinned woman’s desire was understandable, for it would be improper for her to share a bed with any but her husband. But the horn-headed one had also asked for a private one, with a large bed. That left the red haired one and the balding one, who might have taken a shared room but chose instead to pay the extra and get private ones as well. The tiny drover had even paid for one of his own, which meant his private rooms were all but filled. He rubbed his hands together in glee, for with most of the men in town leaving to join the army this was a windfall when he needed one most.</p><p> </p><p> Imagina had headed for a bath house, while Penn and the others got settled in. She could clean herself with magic just as easily as any of the others, but no flit of the fingers could match the sheer luxury of soaking in hot water, especially after weeks of travel by wagon and horseback.</p><p> </p><p> When she returned, cleansed and perfumed, the front room of the inn was overflowing with people. </p><p> </p><p> To the locals, travelers meant news, which was always welcome, and despite his odd appearance the foreign demon told a good story and sang well. So the music played and the rice wine flowed, and the party went on into the night.</p><p> *** </p><p> “Captain Yee?”, asked the soldier on duty at the gate. “Yes, he’s working with the new recruits. You can see his standard there, at the south end. The golden Dragon.”</p><p> </p><p> “Thanks.”, Seburn said casually as they left. Then he got a good look at that standard. “That’s a dragon?”, he asked in surprise. “It doesn’t have any wings.”</p><p> </p><p> “I think that’s what the dragons look like around here.”, Marcus answered, though he was confused as well.</p><p> </p><p> They found the Captain red faced with fury, gesturing with a fan and getting more angry with each passing moment.</p><p> </p><p> To call the formation before him “disarray” was to insult disarray, and it was a stretch to even call what was there a “formation” was a severe stretch. The air was thick with dust and the training instructors kept shouting at them to pick up their feet as the drilled. </p><p> </p><p> Seburn was inclined to wait until the Captain was ready, but Penn thought that it looked like the Captain could use an excuse. He caught the Captain’s eye and bowed with a smile.</p><p> </p><p> The Captain made a slashing gesture with the fan, then stormed over to the companions.</p><p> </p><p> “Calm down Captain.”, Seburn advised. “You can’t control them if you can’t control yourself.”</p><p> </p><p> “Oh, I’m calm.” Said the captain with a smile, all traces of rage melting from his face. Of course, he waited until he was sure none of the soldiers could see the change. “I’ve trained raw recruits before, and these are no worse than any other. Better than many, in fact. More than half of them know their left from their right, which can’t be said for the ones from the farms. But I need them to fear me, at least to begin with.”</p><p> </p><p> The Captain walked with them as he talked, explaining how a commander controlled the battlefield, and how his sub commanders could read the fan signals. The paymaster had their monies ready, and they concluded their business happily.</p><p> </p><p> But before they departed the Captain had a suggestion. “If you’re looking for a few days work while you’re in town, the city guard could use some help.” He gestured towards a group of men who were already drilling with weapons. “We ended up taking almost half of the city guard last night, so their commander is recruiting as well. Just kids, most of them. They need someone to help train them in street fighting. It probably won’t match your usual fees, but…”</p><p> </p><p> “But it will keep us out of trouble.”, Penn finished for him, laughing.</p><p> *** </p><p> The next day, Pen, Marcus, Iggy and Seburn all reported to the local constabulary.</p><p> </p><p> “Iggy, I’m surprised at you. This seems out of character.”, Marcus admonished with mock severity.</p><p> </p><p> “No’ really.”, the Gnome replied in his heavy Londinuim accent. “They’s recruiting kids to this job, and the little ones need to be able to stay safe. Besides, it never hurts for someone like me to get in good with the law, now does it?”</p><p> </p><p> They each had their own small group to work with. Iggy taught teamwork, advising each of the smaller ones to pick a larger partner, then back them up. He showed how to flank, how to take advantage of their small size in tight quarters, and how to protect themselves.</p><p> </p><p> Penn taught it almost like a dance, showing them the advantage of the light blade and the quick step. </p><p> </p><p> Marcus tried (and failed) to treat them like students in a religious school. He ended up trying to inspire them with tales of Hercules, but he was no story teller, and the tales of foreign demigods left them disinterested.</p><p> </p><p> Seburn tried to teach them the way of fighting from a position of strength. He worked on training dummies, showing them how to put your weight and power behind every blow, but his outlander style and barbarian fighting technique earned him little respect. Finally, infuriated by their lax attention, he laid into the practice dummy with a single power swing, releasing the stored spell from his weapon.</p><p> </p><p> The result was spectacular as his blade clove clean through the timber frame, and the entire thing nearly exploded into flame.</p><p> </p><p> They finished the day with mixed levels of success, and retired to the Inn for an early supper.</p><p> *** </p><p> “Seburn of Dumphreys? Marcus de Roma?”, asked the guard captain as he entered the common room.</p><p> </p><p> “Yes?”, the pair responded, almost in a single voice.</p><p> </p><p> “The Magistrate would like to see you.”, the man said, semi-formally.</p><p> </p><p> “You two have fun.”, called Penn as the pair rose. He moved towards the clear spot by the fireplace, unlimbering his lyre as he went.</p><p> *** </p><p> The pair were escorted to a small garden area where a well dressed man was just finishing his supper. They recognized him as the second most important looking man in the plaza the previous evening. An aide addressed the two outlanders.</p><p> </p><p> “This is Provincial Magistrate Qwang See.” He announced, then paused expectantly.</p><p> </p><p> Marcus realized that some response was expected, so he bowed to the Magistrate and replied, “I am Marcus de Roma, and this is Prince Seburn of Dumphreys.” Seburn didn’t think to bow, and after an uncomfortable moment Marcus straightened and took on an expression of interest.</p><p> </p><p> The Magistrate gestured to his aide, who continued. “His excellence has heard reports of ‘Prince’ Seburn’s battle prowess, and in particular of his marvelous magical weapon. He asks if the Prince’s blade is available, as such a weapon would inspire and rally the troops in battle.”</p><p> </p><p> Seburn paid attention this time and responded directly. “The blade was the dying gift from a dear friend. I couldn’t part with it.”</p><p> </p><p> The aide looked at the Magistrate, who frowned slightly and tapped the arm of his chair with one finger.</p><p> </p><p> “His excellence would hope to see a demonstration of its power, to be certain that what he has heard is true. He suggests that, if it can’t be sold then perhaps an exchange of gifts might be in order. He says that he has a fine collection of blades of his own.”</p><p> </p><p> Seburn carefully took his blade and scabbard off, and offered them to the Magistrate’s body guard. “Better to know that the power is in the blade, not the man.”, he explained, though he had a bad feeling about what was to follow. </p><p> </p><p> As training dummies were set up in the garden, he felt he had to warn the Magistrate. “The power of the blade doesn’t manifest with every strike. It needs time to regain the power.” He didn’t want to admit that he had to replace the magic in it for each use, as admitting to being a spell caster was problematic. He also wished Marcus hadn’t addressed him as “Prince”. The Magistrate was clearly skeptical of the title.</p><p> </p><p> As the bodyguard drew the hand-and-a-half blade his face lit with wonder, for he felt the power stored within. He took a couple of practice swings, to get the feel of the foreign weapon, then struck at the first of the wooden forms. Again, the power of the blade flared, and the wooden manikin burst into flames.</p><p> </p><p> “The power is gone, Excellence!”< the guard exclaimed in surprise. “It is still a masterful blade, but the fire is gone.”</p><p> </p><p> “Fascinating!”, declared the Aide, after exchanging looks with the Magistrate. “His Excellence has never heard of a blade whose power must rest. Extrordinary.”</p><p> </p><p> “Yes, it is unusual.”, Seburn agreed. “Typically the power can be used once per battle. Sometimes I use it to drop my first foe, and put the fear in my enemies, sometimes I save it to finish a mighty enemy, if such a man is present.”</p><p> </p><p> Your excellence, if I may ask, why was I summoned?”, Marcus interjected.</p><p> </p><p> “Oh, that.”, replied the aide, apparently reading his master’s mind again. “You preached heresy to the city guard today, did you not?”</p><p> </p><p> “Well, I, uh…”, Marcus stammered, caught completely off guard.</p><p> </p><p> The Magistrate looked at the Cleric with disdain, as if being forced to attend to some unpleasantness, then waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal.</p><p> </p><p> “Ah, very good your Excellence.”, beamed the aide. “To the mines with him!” He then turned his attention back to Seburn. “Are you sure you couldn’t be induced to sell the blade? As you say, with proper tactical use its ability to inspire the men would serve our Emperor well.”</p><p> </p><p> Seburn looked on in dismay as guards appeared to either side of Marcus, ready to take hold.</p><p> </p><p> “I’m sorry, but the blade is not for sale.”, he finished sadly.</p><p> </p><p> “Obscurous”, Marcus intoned, ducking and twisting as he did so to avoid the grasp of the guards. Instantly the region was covered in billowing, thick mists. He curled his legs beneath him, drawing into a tight ball and rolling backwards, beneath and away from the grasping hands of the guards. Then he slow-sprinted across the grassy garden, to vanish in the silent darkness beyond the circle of torchlight.</p><p> </p><p> “Well, that was rude.”, came the voice of the aide from somewhere within the fog. “The guard will have him before dawn, in any case. Do you need a safe escort back to your Inn? The city can be confusing at night, particularly if you aren’t familiar with it.”</p><p> </p><p> Seburn was stunned by the complete separation in the man’s attitude. To casually condemn a man to a life in the salt mines, and then pass pleasantries with the next breath. </p><p> </p><p> “I think I can find my way, thank you.”, he replied, and made his way out of the mist shrouded gardens.</p><p> *** </p><p> “Penn!”, came the loudly hissing whisper from the doorway. The Bard looked up and saw his friend peeking inside, but for some reason trying not to be seen. He nodded to show that he’d heard, then looked pointedly towards the rear door before continuing his song. Breaking off mid tune would draw more attention to the moment than it needed. Marcus would have to wait a minute.</p><p> </p><p> When he reached the end of that ballad, he bowed, announced a short break and took his leave, making a point to leave his hat where it was, to show that he’d be returning. Even the best of us have to go out back eventually, and that was where he headed.</p><p> </p><p> Marcus was standing in a deep shadow by the side alley. “Penn, I need to hide and stay hidden. They sentenced me to the mines.”</p><p> </p><p> Penn looked at his friend dubiously. “What did you do this time?”, he asked. </p><p> </p><p> “I just told stories, like you do.”</p><p> </p><p> “If you told them the way I do, you be getting silver, instead of getting sentenced. Still, it’s not as if we didn’t expect to have at least one of us in trouble.” He drew out the drab silk sweatband they had picked up from the other travelers and handed it to Marcus. “Use this to disguise yourself. You’re a boney-thin man, about my height, with a curved scar on your right cheek where a horse kicked you. Western, not local.”, he added, as Marcus began to invoke the magic of the circlet. “You speak the local language well enough, but you have an accent. Oh, and you shouldn’t admit to speaking the local language very well. You’re just another drover, at least until we’re clear of this city.”</p><p> </p><p> By the time the pair had finished, the magic was complete, Marcus looked like just another teamster from the caravan, and the pair went back inside together.</p><p> </p><p> Seburn entered about three ballads later, and Penn smiled and nodded to him to let him know that everything was under control, at least for the moment.</p><p> ***</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Greenfield, post: 5963150, member: 6669384"] The inner courtyard was kept clean by the labors of many acolytes, and several could be seen hurrying about as Sylus entered. As he waited there more seemed to be finding reasons why their business might take them there, for he was an odd sight, and the rumors were spreading fast and furious as the iron pen was assembled. They were confirmed when one of the senior handlers brought out a young tiger, white and black just as Sylus had envisioned. The animal was wild and anxious, pacing his cage and occasionally throwing himself against the bars in rage. “This is the test.”, the handler explained. “You will enter when you are ready. You will either walk out together, or you won’t walk out at all. Is this truly your wish?” Sylus nodded sharply and approached the cage. Carefully he settled down outside the bars, just beyond the reach of the great cat’s claws. He bowed to the beast, then brought his magic to bear. Soon he and the tiger were in communion. To those who looked on, it seemed as if he had been possessed, for he rose onto all fours, his body moving in a sinuous imitation of the tiger’s own. The senior monks, however, had seen this before, and explained to the younger students: “He is now speaking to the cat as an equal. We will see if the tiger accepts him as one.” Sylus caught the tiger’s gaze and held it with his own. “I would hunt with you, away from iron and stone walls. Will you hunt with me?” The cat matched his stare and grew still, his posture a mirror of Sylus’ own. “I hunt quickly, in snow and silence. Cold wind, hot blood, mountains and forests. Can you hunt with me?” Sylus replied, “My home is mountains and forests, snow and silence. I have hunted in cold night, and known hot blood. It is far from here, far from iron bars and the walls of man. The journey is far, and needs patience. Are you a patient hunter?” And so the exchange went on. Sylus entered the pen with the creature, and they faced each other with no barriers between them. One of the older students looked angrily to his master, questioning why such a rare prize might go to an outlander. The master silenced him with a look. “Your heart betrays you.”, he admonished the boy. “If you enter the tiger’s home with such anger, seeking to own him, you will surely perish. See how this one moves? He seeks neither domination, nor offers submission. It’s possible that he may truly understand the spirit of the tiger. If he lives to see the sunset tomorrow, the two will be as one.” *** The innkeeper at the Teak Tiger was surprised by the generosity of the foreign mercenaries. Carralon had taken a private room, as befit his position, and the drovers had taken a common one, but each of the mercenaries wanted separate chambers. The dark skinned woman’s desire was understandable, for it would be improper for her to share a bed with any but her husband. But the horn-headed one had also asked for a private one, with a large bed. That left the red haired one and the balding one, who might have taken a shared room but chose instead to pay the extra and get private ones as well. The tiny drover had even paid for one of his own, which meant his private rooms were all but filled. He rubbed his hands together in glee, for with most of the men in town leaving to join the army this was a windfall when he needed one most. Imagina had headed for a bath house, while Penn and the others got settled in. She could clean herself with magic just as easily as any of the others, but no flit of the fingers could match the sheer luxury of soaking in hot water, especially after weeks of travel by wagon and horseback. When she returned, cleansed and perfumed, the front room of the inn was overflowing with people. To the locals, travelers meant news, which was always welcome, and despite his odd appearance the foreign demon told a good story and sang well. So the music played and the rice wine flowed, and the party went on into the night. *** “Captain Yee?”, asked the soldier on duty at the gate. “Yes, he’s working with the new recruits. You can see his standard there, at the south end. The golden Dragon.” “Thanks.”, Seburn said casually as they left. Then he got a good look at that standard. “That’s a dragon?”, he asked in surprise. “It doesn’t have any wings.” “I think that’s what the dragons look like around here.”, Marcus answered, though he was confused as well. They found the Captain red faced with fury, gesturing with a fan and getting more angry with each passing moment. To call the formation before him “disarray” was to insult disarray, and it was a stretch to even call what was there a “formation” was a severe stretch. The air was thick with dust and the training instructors kept shouting at them to pick up their feet as the drilled. Seburn was inclined to wait until the Captain was ready, but Penn thought that it looked like the Captain could use an excuse. He caught the Captain’s eye and bowed with a smile. The Captain made a slashing gesture with the fan, then stormed over to the companions. “Calm down Captain.”, Seburn advised. “You can’t control them if you can’t control yourself.” “Oh, I’m calm.” Said the captain with a smile, all traces of rage melting from his face. Of course, he waited until he was sure none of the soldiers could see the change. “I’ve trained raw recruits before, and these are no worse than any other. Better than many, in fact. More than half of them know their left from their right, which can’t be said for the ones from the farms. But I need them to fear me, at least to begin with.” The Captain walked with them as he talked, explaining how a commander controlled the battlefield, and how his sub commanders could read the fan signals. The paymaster had their monies ready, and they concluded their business happily. But before they departed the Captain had a suggestion. “If you’re looking for a few days work while you’re in town, the city guard could use some help.” He gestured towards a group of men who were already drilling with weapons. “We ended up taking almost half of the city guard last night, so their commander is recruiting as well. Just kids, most of them. They need someone to help train them in street fighting. It probably won’t match your usual fees, but…” “But it will keep us out of trouble.”, Penn finished for him, laughing. *** The next day, Pen, Marcus, Iggy and Seburn all reported to the local constabulary. “Iggy, I’m surprised at you. This seems out of character.”, Marcus admonished with mock severity. “No’ really.”, the Gnome replied in his heavy Londinuim accent. “They’s recruiting kids to this job, and the little ones need to be able to stay safe. Besides, it never hurts for someone like me to get in good with the law, now does it?” They each had their own small group to work with. Iggy taught teamwork, advising each of the smaller ones to pick a larger partner, then back them up. He showed how to flank, how to take advantage of their small size in tight quarters, and how to protect themselves. Penn taught it almost like a dance, showing them the advantage of the light blade and the quick step. Marcus tried (and failed) to treat them like students in a religious school. He ended up trying to inspire them with tales of Hercules, but he was no story teller, and the tales of foreign demigods left them disinterested. Seburn tried to teach them the way of fighting from a position of strength. He worked on training dummies, showing them how to put your weight and power behind every blow, but his outlander style and barbarian fighting technique earned him little respect. Finally, infuriated by their lax attention, he laid into the practice dummy with a single power swing, releasing the stored spell from his weapon. The result was spectacular as his blade clove clean through the timber frame, and the entire thing nearly exploded into flame. They finished the day with mixed levels of success, and retired to the Inn for an early supper. *** “Seburn of Dumphreys? Marcus de Roma?”, asked the guard captain as he entered the common room. “Yes?”, the pair responded, almost in a single voice. “The Magistrate would like to see you.”, the man said, semi-formally. “You two have fun.”, called Penn as the pair rose. He moved towards the clear spot by the fireplace, unlimbering his lyre as he went. *** The pair were escorted to a small garden area where a well dressed man was just finishing his supper. They recognized him as the second most important looking man in the plaza the previous evening. An aide addressed the two outlanders. “This is Provincial Magistrate Qwang See.” He announced, then paused expectantly. Marcus realized that some response was expected, so he bowed to the Magistrate and replied, “I am Marcus de Roma, and this is Prince Seburn of Dumphreys.” Seburn didn’t think to bow, and after an uncomfortable moment Marcus straightened and took on an expression of interest. The Magistrate gestured to his aide, who continued. “His excellence has heard reports of ‘Prince’ Seburn’s battle prowess, and in particular of his marvelous magical weapon. He asks if the Prince’s blade is available, as such a weapon would inspire and rally the troops in battle.” Seburn paid attention this time and responded directly. “The blade was the dying gift from a dear friend. I couldn’t part with it.” The aide looked at the Magistrate, who frowned slightly and tapped the arm of his chair with one finger. “His excellence would hope to see a demonstration of its power, to be certain that what he has heard is true. He suggests that, if it can’t be sold then perhaps an exchange of gifts might be in order. He says that he has a fine collection of blades of his own.” Seburn carefully took his blade and scabbard off, and offered them to the Magistrate’s body guard. “Better to know that the power is in the blade, not the man.”, he explained, though he had a bad feeling about what was to follow. As training dummies were set up in the garden, he felt he had to warn the Magistrate. “The power of the blade doesn’t manifest with every strike. It needs time to regain the power.” He didn’t want to admit that he had to replace the magic in it for each use, as admitting to being a spell caster was problematic. He also wished Marcus hadn’t addressed him as “Prince”. The Magistrate was clearly skeptical of the title. As the bodyguard drew the hand-and-a-half blade his face lit with wonder, for he felt the power stored within. He took a couple of practice swings, to get the feel of the foreign weapon, then struck at the first of the wooden forms. Again, the power of the blade flared, and the wooden manikin burst into flames. “The power is gone, Excellence!”< the guard exclaimed in surprise. “It is still a masterful blade, but the fire is gone.” “Fascinating!”, declared the Aide, after exchanging looks with the Magistrate. “His Excellence has never heard of a blade whose power must rest. Extrordinary.” “Yes, it is unusual.”, Seburn agreed. “Typically the power can be used once per battle. Sometimes I use it to drop my first foe, and put the fear in my enemies, sometimes I save it to finish a mighty enemy, if such a man is present.” Your excellence, if I may ask, why was I summoned?”, Marcus interjected. “Oh, that.”, replied the aide, apparently reading his master’s mind again. “You preached heresy to the city guard today, did you not?” “Well, I, uh…”, Marcus stammered, caught completely off guard. The Magistrate looked at the Cleric with disdain, as if being forced to attend to some unpleasantness, then waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal. “Ah, very good your Excellence.”, beamed the aide. “To the mines with him!” He then turned his attention back to Seburn. “Are you sure you couldn’t be induced to sell the blade? As you say, with proper tactical use its ability to inspire the men would serve our Emperor well.” Seburn looked on in dismay as guards appeared to either side of Marcus, ready to take hold. “I’m sorry, but the blade is not for sale.”, he finished sadly. “Obscurous”, Marcus intoned, ducking and twisting as he did so to avoid the grasp of the guards. Instantly the region was covered in billowing, thick mists. He curled his legs beneath him, drawing into a tight ball and rolling backwards, beneath and away from the grasping hands of the guards. Then he slow-sprinted across the grassy garden, to vanish in the silent darkness beyond the circle of torchlight. “Well, that was rude.”, came the voice of the aide from somewhere within the fog. “The guard will have him before dawn, in any case. Do you need a safe escort back to your Inn? The city can be confusing at night, particularly if you aren’t familiar with it.” Seburn was stunned by the complete separation in the man’s attitude. To casually condemn a man to a life in the salt mines, and then pass pleasantries with the next breath. “I think I can find my way, thank you.”, he replied, and made his way out of the mist shrouded gardens. *** “Penn!”, came the loudly hissing whisper from the doorway. The Bard looked up and saw his friend peeking inside, but for some reason trying not to be seen. He nodded to show that he’d heard, then looked pointedly towards the rear door before continuing his song. Breaking off mid tune would draw more attention to the moment than it needed. Marcus would have to wait a minute. When he reached the end of that ballad, he bowed, announced a short break and took his leave, making a point to leave his hat where it was, to show that he’d be returning. Even the best of us have to go out back eventually, and that was where he headed. Marcus was standing in a deep shadow by the side alley. “Penn, I need to hide and stay hidden. They sentenced me to the mines.” Penn looked at his friend dubiously. “What did you do this time?”, he asked. “I just told stories, like you do.” “If you told them the way I do, you be getting silver, instead of getting sentenced. Still, it’s not as if we didn’t expect to have at least one of us in trouble.” He drew out the drab silk sweatband they had picked up from the other travelers and handed it to Marcus. “Use this to disguise yourself. You’re a boney-thin man, about my height, with a curved scar on your right cheek where a horse kicked you. Western, not local.”, he added, as Marcus began to invoke the magic of the circlet. “You speak the local language well enough, but you have an accent. Oh, and you shouldn’t admit to speaking the local language very well. You’re just another drover, at least until we’re clear of this city.” By the time the pair had finished, the magic was complete, Marcus looked like just another teamster from the caravan, and the pair went back inside together. Seburn entered about three ballads later, and Penn smiled and nodded to him to let him know that everything was under control, at least for the moment. *** [/QUOTE]
Insert quotes…
Verification
Post reply
Community
Playing the Game
Story Hour
Curse of Darkness VIII - The Wild Hunt
Top