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"Second Son of a Second Son" - An Aquerra Story Hour (*finally* Updated 04/19)
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<blockquote data-quote="el-remmen" data-source="post: 3364403" data-attributes="member: 11"><p><span style="font-size: 18px">PRELUDE</span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px">Anulem, the 14th of Sek – 566 H.E. (637 M.Y.)</span></p><p></p><p>“How long are we going to wait? You heard his cry…” Laarus said to the others. The priest of Ra’s horse snorted and stepped back and forth. He patted its neck to calm it, the scales of his armor clinking as he leaned forward. His fine tight-fighting travel clothes were soaked with mud, rain and perspiration; several drops of which rolled down his prominent hawk-like nose.</p><p></p><p>It was mid-afternoon and they were on horseback before the crumbling front wall of a flooded ruined keep. The swamp was humid, and the steely clouds threatened rain.</p><p></p><p>“We cannot just charge in there…” Timotheus said.</p><p></p><p>“Charging in there is exactly what we should do,” Laarus replied overly loud. The lizardman atop the gatehouse tower broke off his conversation with Markos to call a warning into the keep that the adventurers might be charging in.</p><p></p><p>“We plan to do no such thing,” Markos called up to the guard. He then looked to his companions, worry in his blue eyes. “Right?” It was clear he was uncomfortable on a horse. Markos was a small man with a thin frame. Like the rest of his companions he was splattered with mud and muck, and the crags in his sun-baked skin were filled with dirt.</p><p></p><p>“Would someone care to go for a ride?” Bleys the Aubergine asked, turning his horse towards the north. He wore a deep purple cloak in a style that suggested the more traditional watch-mage robes that he eschewed. It was held on by three golden chain broaches and was laid over a bright crimson shirt. He had long black hair.</p><p></p><p>“I do not believe this is the time for that…” Victoria began. She lost much of her womanly shape in her scale mail, and bore a spear so long, she could rest the butt on the ground while she was still astride her horse. Her dark hair was shorter than that of Bleys, and she had a simple beauty that was washed away by the shadow of the nose-guard of her basinet. </p><p></p><p>“We may be forbidden to enter the keep, but thought we might get a better look at its dimensions by riding around it,” Bleys replied quietly.</p><p></p><p>The chatter was broken by another agonizing cry from within the keep. Laarus Raymer of Ra did not hesitate, and drawing his flail he spurred his horse. But Bleys reached out and grabbed the reins of the priest’s horse.</p><p></p><p>“Be not a fool! They are prepared for a charge! At the very least let us go around,” the watch-mage said.</p><p></p><p>“Then go around!” Laarus replied sternly. Bleys could see a blue-black vein pulsing under the too pale skin of the priest’s head and let go. Laarus charged in, calling on Ra to <em>bless</em> their coming battle. Victoria and her mount charged right in after him. </p><p></p><p>Past the gatehouse, the inner keep was a mess of broken walls. Pools of stagnant water collected on the uneven ground, and seeped out where stone had sunken into the loam. There was a stone building lacking a roof in the center of what was once a great courtyard, but the wall that once stood behind it was now piles of rocks in a great pool of green water being fed by countless little streams from all directions.</p><p></p><p>Victoria reared up at a thickly woven straw mat over fifteen feet to a side laying in the middle of the courtyard, not far from the broken wall that led into the roofless building. Two lizardfolk, wearing long smocks of cured brown leather stood at each side of the ten-foot gap, hissing and brandishing machetes. They were dark green and mottled with brown, and had low thick crests on their heads.</p><p></p><p>Laarus charged on and as the thatched mat gave way beneath his horse’s front hooves it reared up and whinnied in dismay. The animal kicked it forelegs and spun itself frantically, while Laarus held on desperately, trying to retain control. At least he had not ridden into the pit that the mat, now askew, had obscured.</p><p></p><p>“Going around will give them a chance to kill Sir Quintus! Charge!” Markos said as he spurred his horse to follow the others. Timotheus was right behind him, yelling, “Sir Quintus! Shout as loud as you can so we know where you are!” Valerius went with them.</p><p></p><p>Bleys looked to Telémahkos. The son of Briareus had not made a move to follow the others. He met the watch-mage’s glance and nervously pulled at some loose blond strands sticking out from his old-fashioned helmet. He wore a chain shirt and leather greaves, and had a white tunic with the coat of arms of House Briareus on it. He grabbed at the lance in the leather holster on the side of his light warhorse.</p><p></p><p>“Shall we go around?” Bleys the Aubergine asked his companion, gesturing over to the north side of the keep. Telémahkos nodded, so the watch-mage turned his horse and led the way carefully through one of the broader streams and around the crumbling outer tower.</p><p></p><p>The lizardman atop the gatehouse tower let out a violent set of barks and hisses towards the stone building. He had moved over to look into the ruined keep and saw Timotheus come bursting into the courtyard, while Markos hung back near the gatehouse. </p><p></p><p>“Chok’tem! It is not too late to reveal Sir Quintus! We can still parley and no blood need be shed!” Markos called.</p><p></p><p>“They have me in here!” came a strained voice from the stone building. “They have me in here! Just don’t kill them!”</p><p></p><p>“<em>Approach,</em>” Victoria said to the lizardman atop the tower, divine authority in her voice. The lizardman climbed over the crumbling wall and hanging there for a moment jumped, landing painfully on one leg that collapsed beneath his weight.</p><p></p><p>Timotheus rode right up to the entrance to the building (avoiding the thatched straw cover on the ground) and could see the corner of some kind of wooden cage, but an uneven brick wall obscured most of it. There was a narrow stream running into a pool collecting in one corner of the structure and a rotting wooden door acted as a kind of footbridge. </p><p></p><p>The lizardman on the right grabbed at Tim, and as the tall man shifted in his saddle to avoid being grappled, his horse was spooked and reared. Timotheus landed on his hands and knees, spinning at the last minute to avoid hurting himself. The horse snorted and turned, taking off for the center of the courtyard again. Markos moved his horse over and grabbed the creature’s reins to calm it and keep it from riding off into a bog. “Chok’tem, it is not too late! Bring him forth!”</p><p></p><p>“You have broken your word!” came the lizardman’s voice in his breathy broken Common. He was inside the stone building, beside the wooden cage. “Why should we believe? Retreat now! Leave! And then no bloodshed!”</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="el-remmen, post: 3364403, member: 11"] [SIZE=5]PRELUDE[/SIZE] [SIZE=4]Anulem, the 14th of Sek – 566 H.E. (637 M.Y.)[/SIZE] “How long are we going to wait? You heard his cry…” Laarus said to the others. The priest of Ra’s horse snorted and stepped back and forth. He patted its neck to calm it, the scales of his armor clinking as he leaned forward. His fine tight-fighting travel clothes were soaked with mud, rain and perspiration; several drops of which rolled down his prominent hawk-like nose. It was mid-afternoon and they were on horseback before the crumbling front wall of a flooded ruined keep. The swamp was humid, and the steely clouds threatened rain. “We cannot just charge in there…” Timotheus said. “Charging in there is exactly what we should do,” Laarus replied overly loud. The lizardman atop the gatehouse tower broke off his conversation with Markos to call a warning into the keep that the adventurers might be charging in. “We plan to do no such thing,” Markos called up to the guard. He then looked to his companions, worry in his blue eyes. “Right?” It was clear he was uncomfortable on a horse. Markos was a small man with a thin frame. Like the rest of his companions he was splattered with mud and muck, and the crags in his sun-baked skin were filled with dirt. “Would someone care to go for a ride?” Bleys the Aubergine asked, turning his horse towards the north. He wore a deep purple cloak in a style that suggested the more traditional watch-mage robes that he eschewed. It was held on by three golden chain broaches and was laid over a bright crimson shirt. He had long black hair. “I do not believe this is the time for that…” Victoria began. She lost much of her womanly shape in her scale mail, and bore a spear so long, she could rest the butt on the ground while she was still astride her horse. Her dark hair was shorter than that of Bleys, and she had a simple beauty that was washed away by the shadow of the nose-guard of her basinet. “We may be forbidden to enter the keep, but thought we might get a better look at its dimensions by riding around it,” Bleys replied quietly. The chatter was broken by another agonizing cry from within the keep. Laarus Raymer of Ra did not hesitate, and drawing his flail he spurred his horse. But Bleys reached out and grabbed the reins of the priest’s horse. “Be not a fool! They are prepared for a charge! At the very least let us go around,” the watch-mage said. “Then go around!” Laarus replied sternly. Bleys could see a blue-black vein pulsing under the too pale skin of the priest’s head and let go. Laarus charged in, calling on Ra to [I]bless[/I] their coming battle. Victoria and her mount charged right in after him. Past the gatehouse, the inner keep was a mess of broken walls. Pools of stagnant water collected on the uneven ground, and seeped out where stone had sunken into the loam. There was a stone building lacking a roof in the center of what was once a great courtyard, but the wall that once stood behind it was now piles of rocks in a great pool of green water being fed by countless little streams from all directions. Victoria reared up at a thickly woven straw mat over fifteen feet to a side laying in the middle of the courtyard, not far from the broken wall that led into the roofless building. Two lizardfolk, wearing long smocks of cured brown leather stood at each side of the ten-foot gap, hissing and brandishing machetes. They were dark green and mottled with brown, and had low thick crests on their heads. Laarus charged on and as the thatched mat gave way beneath his horse’s front hooves it reared up and whinnied in dismay. The animal kicked it forelegs and spun itself frantically, while Laarus held on desperately, trying to retain control. At least he had not ridden into the pit that the mat, now askew, had obscured. “Going around will give them a chance to kill Sir Quintus! Charge!” Markos said as he spurred his horse to follow the others. Timotheus was right behind him, yelling, “Sir Quintus! Shout as loud as you can so we know where you are!” Valerius went with them. Bleys looked to Telémahkos. The son of Briareus had not made a move to follow the others. He met the watch-mage’s glance and nervously pulled at some loose blond strands sticking out from his old-fashioned helmet. He wore a chain shirt and leather greaves, and had a white tunic with the coat of arms of House Briareus on it. He grabbed at the lance in the leather holster on the side of his light warhorse. “Shall we go around?” Bleys the Aubergine asked his companion, gesturing over to the north side of the keep. Telémahkos nodded, so the watch-mage turned his horse and led the way carefully through one of the broader streams and around the crumbling outer tower. The lizardman atop the gatehouse tower let out a violent set of barks and hisses towards the stone building. He had moved over to look into the ruined keep and saw Timotheus come bursting into the courtyard, while Markos hung back near the gatehouse. “Chok’tem! It is not too late to reveal Sir Quintus! We can still parley and no blood need be shed!” Markos called. “They have me in here!” came a strained voice from the stone building. “They have me in here! Just don’t kill them!” “[I]Approach,[/I]” Victoria said to the lizardman atop the tower, divine authority in her voice. The lizardman climbed over the crumbling wall and hanging there for a moment jumped, landing painfully on one leg that collapsed beneath his weight. Timotheus rode right up to the entrance to the building (avoiding the thatched straw cover on the ground) and could see the corner of some kind of wooden cage, but an uneven brick wall obscured most of it. There was a narrow stream running into a pool collecting in one corner of the structure and a rotting wooden door acted as a kind of footbridge. The lizardman on the right grabbed at Tim, and as the tall man shifted in his saddle to avoid being grappled, his horse was spooked and reared. Timotheus landed on his hands and knees, spinning at the last minute to avoid hurting himself. The horse snorted and turned, taking off for the center of the courtyard again. Markos moved his horse over and grabbed the creature’s reins to calm it and keep it from riding off into a bog. “Chok’tem, it is not too late! Bring him forth!” “You have broken your word!” came the lizardman’s voice in his breathy broken Common. He was inside the stone building, beside the wooden cage. “Why should we believe? Retreat now! Leave! And then no bloodshed!” [/QUOTE]
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"Second Son of a Second Son" - An Aquerra Story Hour (*finally* Updated 04/19)
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