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Sir Gerard d'Montfort - In his own words (a tale of Anka Seth)- Updated Nov 11th
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<blockquote data-quote="Haraash Saan" data-source="post: 5161174" data-attributes="member: 46615"><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Before me sat King Thurlland II. He coughed violently, his clenched teeth muting the rasping gurgle. Thurlland’s wizened face looked to have aged years since I first knelt before him in Halfast not two months ago. His cough abated and he gazed down upon me with his sunken bloodshot eyes. There was no doubt that his illness was causing his health to rapidly deteriorate.</span> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'">The High Priest Prelate Gosforth and the Abbot Masbank continued their long and tedious incantations. The ceremony itself had long lost my interest. At first my chest had swelled with pride, but after awhile and with no end in sight, even I got bored at an occasion that was essentially held in my honour. I had been kneeling on a splendid lush red carpet for more than an hour and still Gosforth had not reached his climax. </span></p><p> </p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Beside me knelt a horrid looking woman. My first glance at her had been enough to convince me not to look upon her again. Buckteeth rested beneath a thin top lip. A large a bulbous nose, that caused a frightful snorting sound each time she inhaled matched her frog like bulging eyes. Her name was Irviel and she was a silk merchant and magistrate from a small town near Riverglenn. She was being inducting into the Order due to her extreme diligence at upholding the law and her swift and harsh justice. </span></p><p> </p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Queen Helena sat beside the King in a matching throne of polished dark timber and gold with red velvet cushions. A polite smile was etched onto her face as she blatantly ignored the tedium and stared off into the distance.</span> </p><p> </p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'">My parents and a few other notables had gathered to witness the event, even the Hydra had come along, although I know not why as they had shown very little interest or appreciation for all that I had done. Not everyone helps to save the King’s life or orchestrates the successful defense of a virtually indefensible town.</span> </p><p> </p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Finally, after another hour the agony was over. Prelate Gosforth stepped aside, head bowed and King Thurlland struggled to his feet. A boy carrying a green cushion on which rested a gnarled stick about two feet long, knelt before the King, presenting him with the wooden branch.</span> </p><p> </p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Thurlland took it up in his right hand as he tried to suppress another cough that raked his body with pain. After a couple of deep breaths to settle himself he looked at me fondly and smiled, “Sir Gerard d’Montfort, present your left wrist.”</span> </p><p> </p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'">I was puzzled by his request, but acceded and pulled my sleeve up and expose my wrist. </span></p><p> </p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'">“Serpentus!“ commanded the King in a deep baritone that in no way suited his feeble disposition. </span></p><p> </p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'">I could sense the power in his voice. He had called forth a great magic in the ancient tongue!</span> </p><p> </p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Suddenly the branch in his hand started to writhe and wriggle. As it became more flexible, the hard and gnarled wood slowly change into shiny green scales. As I stared at the transformation I realised what it was that was happening. The branch had transformed into a snake.</span></p><p> </p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Its’ head bobbed this way and that, as if sizing me up and deciding whether I was worthy. Its’ forked tongue flicked in and out of its thin, cruel and almost mocking mouth and in the next instant it launched itself at me. It took all my courage to stop myself from turning away from the inevitable.</span> </p><p> </p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'">I felt the serpents fangs sink deep into my wrist. A wave of nausea struck me as the poison flowed in my veins. Then the pain started. It began as a numb ache very quickly became agony. I vaguely heard the same address to Irviel as I concentrated on not collapsing face first into the plush carpet beneath me.</span> </p><p> </p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Just as I felt I could no longer cope with the pain without screaming, my brooch, the second of the King’s gifts which I had worn deliberately to the ceremony, radiated a soothing heat to my heart over which it sat. Instantaneously the pain subsided until I could feel it no more.</span> </p><p> </p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'">“Rise Sir Gerard d’Montfort, and welcome to the Order of the Wyrm.” Said the King.</span> </p><p> </p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'">I stood, somewhat shakily, took the King’s hand and kissed it. “Thank you my lord.” I whispered.</span> </p><p> </p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'">He repeated similar words to Irviel and the ceremony was finally complete.</span> </p><p> </p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'">After the ritualistic formality of the induction into the Order of the Wyrm there was a much more informal celebration. Those gathered thronged about talking in small clumped groups while servants provided refreshments on platters. I tried to maneuver to myself to a position in which I could speak to the King but Irviel had managed to corner him and was in earnest conversation. </span></p><p> </p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Instead I made polite conversation with Queen Helena and just as she had finished telling me that Princess Isabella was currently in Morannin in the Fastness learning the ways of the foreign court, that Argonne’s voice burst across the room. “Assassins! The King is hurt!” came his cry.</span> </p><p> </p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'">I sprinted to his side and found him kneeling over the King and reciting a Foeldian incantation. The King was ashen! He lay behind a desk, on his back, in a small antechamber that adjoined the throne room in which we had all been milling. His crown had toppled from his head and rolled to a rest in a corner of the room.</span> </p><p> </p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'">“Mortec!” I yelled, hoping that Todesmagie, in his great wisdom, could save the King.</span> </p><p> </p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'">I knelt beside Thurlland and clutched his hand to my mouth praying softly to Laster. He felt my presence for he clasped my hand strongly and lifted himself up to me until he was no more than a few inches from my face. His eyes widened and he hissed desperately, “Avenge me!” before collapsing back to the floor. </span></p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Haraash Saan, post: 5161174, member: 46615"] [FONT=Arial]Before me sat King Thurlland II. He coughed violently, his clenched teeth muting the rasping gurgle. Thurlland’s wizened face looked to have aged years since I first knelt before him in Halfast not two months ago. His cough abated and he gazed down upon me with his sunken bloodshot eyes. There was no doubt that his illness was causing his health to rapidly deteriorate.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] [/FONT] [FONT=Arial] [/FONT] [FONT=Arial] [/FONT] [FONT=Arial]The High Priest Prelate Gosforth and the Abbot Masbank continued their long and tedious incantations. The ceremony itself had long lost my interest. At first my chest had swelled with pride, but after awhile and with no end in sight, even I got bored at an occasion that was essentially held in my honour. I had been kneeling on a splendid lush red carpet for more than an hour and still Gosforth had not reached his climax. [/FONT] [FONT=Arial] [/FONT] [FONT=Arial]Beside me knelt a horrid looking woman. My first glance at her had been enough to convince me not to look upon her again. Buckteeth rested beneath a thin top lip. A large a bulbous nose, that caused a frightful snorting sound each time she inhaled matched her frog like bulging eyes. Her name was Irviel and she was a silk merchant and magistrate from a small town near Riverglenn. She was being inducting into the Order due to her extreme diligence at upholding the law and her swift and harsh justice. [/FONT] [FONT=Arial] [/FONT] [FONT=Arial]Queen Helena sat beside the King in a matching throne of polished dark timber and gold with red velvet cushions. A polite smile was etched onto her face as she blatantly ignored the tedium and stared off into the distance.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] [/FONT] [FONT=Arial]My parents and a few other notables had gathered to witness the event, even the Hydra had come along, although I know not why as they had shown very little interest or appreciation for all that I had done. Not everyone helps to save the King’s life or orchestrates the successful defense of a virtually indefensible town.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] [/FONT] [FONT=Arial]Finally, after another hour the agony was over. Prelate Gosforth stepped aside, head bowed and King Thurlland struggled to his feet. A boy carrying a green cushion on which rested a gnarled stick about two feet long, knelt before the King, presenting him with the wooden branch.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] [/FONT] [FONT=Arial]Thurlland took it up in his right hand as he tried to suppress another cough that raked his body with pain. After a couple of deep breaths to settle himself he looked at me fondly and smiled, “Sir Gerard d’Montfort, present your left wrist.”[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] [/FONT] [FONT=Arial]I was puzzled by his request, but acceded and pulled my sleeve up and expose my wrist. [/FONT] [FONT=Arial] [/FONT] [FONT=Arial]“Serpentus!“ commanded the King in a deep baritone that in no way suited his feeble disposition. [/FONT] [FONT=Arial] [/FONT] [FONT=Arial]I could sense the power in his voice. He had called forth a great magic in the ancient tongue![/FONT] [FONT=Arial] [/FONT] [FONT=Arial]Suddenly the branch in his hand started to writhe and wriggle. As it became more flexible, the hard and gnarled wood slowly change into shiny green scales. As I stared at the transformation I realised what it was that was happening. The branch had transformed into a snake.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] [/FONT] [FONT=Arial]Its’ head bobbed this way and that, as if sizing me up and deciding whether I was worthy. Its’ forked tongue flicked in and out of its thin, cruel and almost mocking mouth and in the next instant it launched itself at me. It took all my courage to stop myself from turning away from the inevitable.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] [/FONT] [FONT=Arial]I felt the serpents fangs sink deep into my wrist. A wave of nausea struck me as the poison flowed in my veins. Then the pain started. It began as a numb ache very quickly became agony. I vaguely heard the same address to Irviel as I concentrated on not collapsing face first into the plush carpet beneath me.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] [/FONT] [FONT=Arial]Just as I felt I could no longer cope with the pain without screaming, my brooch, the second of the King’s gifts which I had worn deliberately to the ceremony, radiated a soothing heat to my heart over which it sat. Instantaneously the pain subsided until I could feel it no more.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] [/FONT] [FONT=Arial]“Rise Sir Gerard d’Montfort, and welcome to the Order of the Wyrm.” Said the King.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] [/FONT] [FONT=Arial]I stood, somewhat shakily, took the King’s hand and kissed it. “Thank you my lord.” I whispered.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] [/FONT] [FONT=Arial]He repeated similar words to Irviel and the ceremony was finally complete.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] [/FONT] [FONT=Arial]After the ritualistic formality of the induction into the Order of the Wyrm there was a much more informal celebration. Those gathered thronged about talking in small clumped groups while servants provided refreshments on platters. I tried to maneuver to myself to a position in which I could speak to the King but Irviel had managed to corner him and was in earnest conversation. [/FONT] [FONT=Arial] [/FONT] [FONT=Arial]Instead I made polite conversation with Queen Helena and just as she had finished telling me that Princess Isabella was currently in Morannin in the Fastness learning the ways of the foreign court, that Argonne’s voice burst across the room. “Assassins! The King is hurt!” came his cry.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] [/FONT] [FONT=Arial]I sprinted to his side and found him kneeling over the King and reciting a Foeldian incantation. The King was ashen! He lay behind a desk, on his back, in a small antechamber that adjoined the throne room in which we had all been milling. His crown had toppled from his head and rolled to a rest in a corner of the room.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] [/FONT] [FONT=Arial]“Mortec!” I yelled, hoping that Todesmagie, in his great wisdom, could save the King.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] [/FONT] [FONT=Arial]I knelt beside Thurlland and clutched his hand to my mouth praying softly to Laster. He felt my presence for he clasped my hand strongly and lifted himself up to me until he was no more than a few inches from my face. His eyes widened and he hissed desperately, “Avenge me!” before collapsing back to the floor. [/FONT] [FONT=Arial] [/FONT] [FONT=Arial] [/FONT] [FONT=Arial] [/FONT] [FONT=Arial] [/FONT] [/QUOTE]
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