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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: 5296319" data-attributes="member: 46615"><p><strong>Chapter 16 – Welcome to the Fastness</strong></p><p></p><p>A hazy gloom greeted us. We were in Dominion lands now, where stories told the sun no longer shone. We had traveled more than a thousand miles north east of Riverglenn and the temple of Arkady Seth in only a few hours. The Star Chambers that the Gerechians built were truly a marvel of magical craft. I could not begin to fathom how magic could be weaved in such a way as to allow such an amazing journey.</p><p></p><p>Argonne led us confidently along what he perceived to be the most direct route to the river Narn. Our plan was to ford it and then head due east until we intersected a road that came from the southern reaches of the Fastness. We would follow the road north to the city of Vronburg and from there assess our options as to how best get to Morannin and Princess Isabella.</p><p></p><p>When we arrived at the river we found that it would be a difficult crossing. Seeking an alternative, Argonne bade us to be still and then pressed his palms into the muddy bank and closed his eyes. A moment later they flickered open and he shook his head. “We’ll find nothing better for thirty miles up or down stream. We’ll have to cross here.”</p><p></p><p>I had no concerns. My steed wore the shoes that I had won so long ago in Halfast. They were enchanted and enabled the horse that wore them to move an inch or so above the ground or water. I recall thinking little of the gift when it was awarded to me but had since realized how useful they were. In many months riding through the wild I had not once been splattered with mud or clods of dirt because my mount never churned the earth with his strides. The horseshoes were truly a marvelous reward.</p><p></p><p>The others had more trouble. I managed to ride back and lead Moxadder’s horse and then Hrast’s through the river safely to the other side. Moxadder, Stravarious and Hrast managed the swim easily enough, but I went back yet again for Morgan.</p><p></p><p>Argonne crossed last of all. He slapped Zwingly on the rump and said, “Come on. In you get.” Zwingly of course would have none of it. His rear hooves lashed out at Argonne, who just managed to evade what would have been a skull crushing blow. Unfortunately for Zwingly, his kick over balanced him and he fell with an enormous splash into the twisting waters of the Narn and in an instant he was washed away.</p><p></p><p>Argonne, who to this day felt guilt for killing the man that now lived within the horse, leapt into the air, transforming himself into an eagle as he jumped. He flew down the river in pursuit of Zwingly and then plummeted straight into the swirling waters and out of sight.</p><p></p><p>A moment later a bedraggled Argonne clambered to the southern shore, reins in hand. With his other hand he clutched a dead tree root that had once drunk deep from the river. Zwingly was dragged, reins tightened almost to breaking point, by the power of the flowing water to the shore where he managed to scramble onto dry land.</p><p></p><p>With his companion safe Argonne used the root to drag himself up the bank where he collapsed onto his back exhausted.</p><p></p><p>It took an hour or so for Argonne to calm Zwingly enough for him to be led (he would not allow Argonne to mount him), but soon enough we were heading due east scanning the horizon for a road. </p><p></p><p>We tramped through knee high brown grass for perhaps two hours before finally intersecting the road. It looked well worn, with several wagon wheel ruts and sunken cobbles. An age ago it would have been a well maintained thoroughfare but now with the Fastness bending all resources to the war against the Dominion it had been left to fall into poor repair.</p><p></p><p>After a short break we turned north and followed the road to the fortress of Vronburg. It was late afternoon by the time we saw the huge walls of the castle sitting on the banks of the Narn. Vronburg was not a city as such, although in years past it had been. Now it was the most northern outpost of the Fastness, with a population permanently at war.</p><p></p><p>Ever-alert sentries stood before the narrow gate. “Who are you and what’s your business?” barked a guardsman as we approached.</p><p></p><p>We introduced ourselves and explained that were traveling to Morannin.</p><p></p><p>His thick moustache jiggled as he chortled, “Morannin. You’ve come to the wrong place lads. Head back down the road for fifty miles and then take the road to the east. That’s how to get to Morannin.”</p><p></p><p>“Indeed that is one way. Unfortunately my good man, we are in quite a hurry and thought that there would be a quicker way from Vronburg.” I replied.</p><p></p><p>He sighed, “Have it your way. Gestle!” He called back over his shoulder. </p><p></p><p>A small wiry man who had been sitting cross legged against the castle’s wall sharpening a sword slowly picked himself up and ambled toward us. He looked us over, before tracing three towers in the air in front of his face and muttering a Thuusian chant.</p><p></p><p>He ran his hand over the stubble on his chin before nodding and saying, “There is no taint in them.” With that he resumed his seat and resumed the care of his blade.</p><p></p><p>The guard huffed loudly and called out, “Open the gate!” In a normal tone he added, “They’ll collect your entrance tax inside.”</p><p></p><p>The great single gate of Vronburg creaked open and we filed in. There was another guard waiting within for us. He acted as the tax collector for the Knight Protectress, Igane, of Vronburg. And he did his work well. We left him significantly lighter of pocket, but with directions to make our accommodation in the Eastern Quarter. We walked through streets empty other than the soldiers that appeared at most corners. Many houses were unoccupied; such was the high mortality rate of those that were garrisoned in the fortress. Once we arrived in the Eastern Quarter we found one that had been more recently abandoned and made ourselves as comfortable as we could; there were no inns any more, they had become barracks for the Soup Roaders. Those scum, mostly from Guerney, who had been promised food before being thrown against the Dominion. </p><p></p><p>I was keen to learn of any other routes to Morannin before the fortresses curfew commenced. The staunch Vronburgians took no chances with the unearthly manifestations of the Dominion. Anyone seen on the street after curfew was killed on sight by the ever watchful guardsmen. I spoke to one soldier who directed me to the keep of the Igane. I learnt from him that the only other way to Morannin was via the barges that the Knight Protectress sent there for supplies. Only Igane herself granted passage on the barges, and only she knew of their departure times. Such precautions were needed to allow a safer journey up the river. Without them the forces of the Dominion would be prepared to attack any boat that hazarded the trip.</p><p></p><p>A brief consultation with the sentry at the keep eventuated in an offer for my request to see the Knight Protectress to be passed on to her. Not overly impressed at his attitude I insisted that I see her immediately. “Tell her that I am here with the gravest news and that she will definitely wish to hear it.” I hissed in impatience.</p><p></p><p>Noting the raising ire in my voice, and no doubt uncertain about the legitimacy of my information he asked me to wait there whilst he consulted with his captain.</p><p></p><p>Soon enough another guard, a little older and a lot more scarred, approached with two soldiers. “Sir Gerard d’Montfort?” he asked in a tired tone. I confirmed that I was and he grunted apathetically, “Remove your weapons and follow me.” I sighed and shook my head at the lack of formality, left my weapons with the guard and then followed my weary guide into the Keep with the two soldiers on either side of me. </p><p></p><p>We arrived at two solid oak iron bound doors. Without ceremony he pushed them open and we stepped inside. He beckoned for me (and my escorts) to stand to one side, “You’ll be called when the Knight Protectress is ready.” The captain then trudged back through the doors, pulling them closed as he left.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Haraash Saan, post: 5296319, member: 46615"] [B]Chapter 16 – Welcome to the Fastness[/B] A hazy gloom greeted us. We were in Dominion lands now, where stories told the sun no longer shone. We had traveled more than a thousand miles north east of Riverglenn and the temple of Arkady Seth in only a few hours. The Star Chambers that the Gerechians built were truly a marvel of magical craft. I could not begin to fathom how magic could be weaved in such a way as to allow such an amazing journey. Argonne led us confidently along what he perceived to be the most direct route to the river Narn. Our plan was to ford it and then head due east until we intersected a road that came from the southern reaches of the Fastness. We would follow the road north to the city of Vronburg and from there assess our options as to how best get to Morannin and Princess Isabella. When we arrived at the river we found that it would be a difficult crossing. Seeking an alternative, Argonne bade us to be still and then pressed his palms into the muddy bank and closed his eyes. A moment later they flickered open and he shook his head. “We’ll find nothing better for thirty miles up or down stream. We’ll have to cross here.” I had no concerns. My steed wore the shoes that I had won so long ago in Halfast. They were enchanted and enabled the horse that wore them to move an inch or so above the ground or water. I recall thinking little of the gift when it was awarded to me but had since realized how useful they were. In many months riding through the wild I had not once been splattered with mud or clods of dirt because my mount never churned the earth with his strides. The horseshoes were truly a marvelous reward. The others had more trouble. I managed to ride back and lead Moxadder’s horse and then Hrast’s through the river safely to the other side. Moxadder, Stravarious and Hrast managed the swim easily enough, but I went back yet again for Morgan. Argonne crossed last of all. He slapped Zwingly on the rump and said, “Come on. In you get.” Zwingly of course would have none of it. His rear hooves lashed out at Argonne, who just managed to evade what would have been a skull crushing blow. Unfortunately for Zwingly, his kick over balanced him and he fell with an enormous splash into the twisting waters of the Narn and in an instant he was washed away. Argonne, who to this day felt guilt for killing the man that now lived within the horse, leapt into the air, transforming himself into an eagle as he jumped. He flew down the river in pursuit of Zwingly and then plummeted straight into the swirling waters and out of sight. A moment later a bedraggled Argonne clambered to the southern shore, reins in hand. With his other hand he clutched a dead tree root that had once drunk deep from the river. Zwingly was dragged, reins tightened almost to breaking point, by the power of the flowing water to the shore where he managed to scramble onto dry land. With his companion safe Argonne used the root to drag himself up the bank where he collapsed onto his back exhausted. It took an hour or so for Argonne to calm Zwingly enough for him to be led (he would not allow Argonne to mount him), but soon enough we were heading due east scanning the horizon for a road. We tramped through knee high brown grass for perhaps two hours before finally intersecting the road. It looked well worn, with several wagon wheel ruts and sunken cobbles. An age ago it would have been a well maintained thoroughfare but now with the Fastness bending all resources to the war against the Dominion it had been left to fall into poor repair. After a short break we turned north and followed the road to the fortress of Vronburg. It was late afternoon by the time we saw the huge walls of the castle sitting on the banks of the Narn. Vronburg was not a city as such, although in years past it had been. Now it was the most northern outpost of the Fastness, with a population permanently at war. Ever-alert sentries stood before the narrow gate. “Who are you and what’s your business?” barked a guardsman as we approached. We introduced ourselves and explained that were traveling to Morannin. His thick moustache jiggled as he chortled, “Morannin. You’ve come to the wrong place lads. Head back down the road for fifty miles and then take the road to the east. That’s how to get to Morannin.” “Indeed that is one way. Unfortunately my good man, we are in quite a hurry and thought that there would be a quicker way from Vronburg.” I replied. He sighed, “Have it your way. Gestle!” He called back over his shoulder. A small wiry man who had been sitting cross legged against the castle’s wall sharpening a sword slowly picked himself up and ambled toward us. He looked us over, before tracing three towers in the air in front of his face and muttering a Thuusian chant. He ran his hand over the stubble on his chin before nodding and saying, “There is no taint in them.” With that he resumed his seat and resumed the care of his blade. The guard huffed loudly and called out, “Open the gate!” In a normal tone he added, “They’ll collect your entrance tax inside.” The great single gate of Vronburg creaked open and we filed in. There was another guard waiting within for us. He acted as the tax collector for the Knight Protectress, Igane, of Vronburg. And he did his work well. We left him significantly lighter of pocket, but with directions to make our accommodation in the Eastern Quarter. We walked through streets empty other than the soldiers that appeared at most corners. Many houses were unoccupied; such was the high mortality rate of those that were garrisoned in the fortress. Once we arrived in the Eastern Quarter we found one that had been more recently abandoned and made ourselves as comfortable as we could; there were no inns any more, they had become barracks for the Soup Roaders. Those scum, mostly from Guerney, who had been promised food before being thrown against the Dominion. I was keen to learn of any other routes to Morannin before the fortresses curfew commenced. The staunch Vronburgians took no chances with the unearthly manifestations of the Dominion. Anyone seen on the street after curfew was killed on sight by the ever watchful guardsmen. I spoke to one soldier who directed me to the keep of the Igane. I learnt from him that the only other way to Morannin was via the barges that the Knight Protectress sent there for supplies. Only Igane herself granted passage on the barges, and only she knew of their departure times. Such precautions were needed to allow a safer journey up the river. Without them the forces of the Dominion would be prepared to attack any boat that hazarded the trip. A brief consultation with the sentry at the keep eventuated in an offer for my request to see the Knight Protectress to be passed on to her. Not overly impressed at his attitude I insisted that I see her immediately. “Tell her that I am here with the gravest news and that she will definitely wish to hear it.” I hissed in impatience. Noting the raising ire in my voice, and no doubt uncertain about the legitimacy of my information he asked me to wait there whilst he consulted with his captain. Soon enough another guard, a little older and a lot more scarred, approached with two soldiers. “Sir Gerard d’Montfort?” he asked in a tired tone. I confirmed that I was and he grunted apathetically, “Remove your weapons and follow me.” I sighed and shook my head at the lack of formality, left my weapons with the guard and then followed my weary guide into the Keep with the two soldiers on either side of me. We arrived at two solid oak iron bound doors. Without ceremony he pushed them open and we stepped inside. He beckoned for me (and my escorts) to stand to one side, “You’ll be called when the Knight Protectress is ready.” The captain then trudged back through the doors, pulling them closed as he left. [/QUOTE]
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