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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: 5312816" data-attributes="member: 46615"><p>Hovel is probably an understatement. Taen’s den was a shambles of filth, refuse and barely standing rotten timber walls. I know not how it even stood.</p><p></p><p>There was no door as such just a triangular entrance formed by two planks butted against one another. A tattered and patched curtain was all that provided privacy, although here in Vronburg the stony faced residents had little concern of the private affairs of others, each had their own issues and internal demons.</p><p></p><p>Taen seemed to be the perfect denizen of her home. The old crone wore a dress very similar to the curtain in her doorway and her stooped posture allowed her easily to move within the shack. Her face was carved with not just the lines of significant age but all manner of blotches and sores. </p><p></p><p>Moxadder made hasty introductions and then crouched quietly to one side, allowing the rest of us room, if somewhat cramped, in Taen’s abode. </p><p></p><p>I was feeling rather distressed and uncomfortable, the scent of decay and herbal remedies bubbling from several small cauldrons did nothing to make me feel at ease. I must admit, that I lost track of myself and it suddenly, as if a spell had been broken, Taen rasped “Sir Gerard, what is it that you desire?”</p><p></p><p>Bemused I laughed, and then requested the impossible, “If one of your brews could regrow my hand,” I said as I raised the wooden left hand that Mortec had made for me. “then I would be forever grateful.”</p><p></p><p>“Ah, is that all?” she asked, her mouth twitching into a knowing grin. “I’ve just the thing.”</p><p></p><p>She rummaged around the shelves behind her for a moment before she chuckled gleefully. “Here it is! I knew it was around here somewhere.” In her hand was a small glass vial with a dark blue liquid in it. </p><p></p><p>Taen passed it to me and said, “Here, take it Sir Gerard.” Her eyes twinkled mischievously. “But know that I found it a long time ago. The seller assured me of its restorative properties but could not guarantee exactly what would happen.”</p><p></p><p>I looked at the vial of deep blue liquid that I held in my hand and then at the expectant stare of the witch. Shrugging I pulled the stopper and with one swig downed the bottles bitter contents. Laster would protect me, would he not?</p><p></p><p>Nausea washed through me. I felt my breakfast begin to creep up from my gut. Bile rose up into my mouth and I fought the urge to spit. My stump began to itch furiously. Then Mortec’s beautifully crafted appendage shot off from it, exposing a horrid lump of skin. The itching intensified as five points in the stump began to push out from it as if probing for an exit. I felt strangely detached from the surreal experience and watched with morbid fascination. </p><p></p><p>The skin on the stump stretched as each of the cylindrical probes pushed further forward. Suddenly there was a burst of blood and five fingers, my fingers, broke through the skin. As they grew I flexed and curled them, reassuring myself that my hand was growing back. Soon the palm that was attached to the fingers appeared from within the bloodied stump and then a wrist. </p><p></p><p>Finally the skin from the wrist and the edge of the stump began to knit over the wound so that there was not even a scar. It was a miracle. I stared, mouth agape in wonder, at my new hand. The itching had stopped. I flexed the regrown hand, once again making sure that it was no trick and that the hand was very much my own. It was.</p><p></p><p>I beamed a smile of appreciation to the witch, but before I could register her response I began to choke. My hands went to my throat. Something was very wrong. I could not breathe. I gagged as I sought for air. The inside of my throat seemed to tear in several places. I sank to my knees, feeling faint from lack of oxygen. Then just as suddenly I managed to suck in a breath. I coughed loudly, twice, as I tried too quickly to gasp in more air, and then I was breathing normally. I rubbed my throat, massaging it. Something felt rather uncomfortable, well not uncomfortable but unusual. </p><p></p><p>“Are you alright Gerard?” said a concerned Morgan.</p><p></p><p>“Yes. Fine, I think.” was my slightly strangled reply.</p><p></p><p>I stood and gazed at my new hand. It was indeed a marvel. It was exactly as I remembered it. Somehow the magical elixir had regenerated it as it had once been. But then it began to itch once more.</p><p></p><p>The webbing in between each of my fingers tingled and I suppressed the urge to scratch them. A wave of fear passed through me as I realised it was not just my new fingers but the digits of my other hand and my feet now had the same itch! What was happening to me?</p><p></p><p>I held my hands, fingers spread, in front of my face as I looked at them wide eyed in horror. The webbing expanded, climbing along the inner edge of each finger until finally it ceased at the last joint. Once more the itching stopped, this time for good.</p><p></p><p>My hands, my beautiful hands, were now almost fingered flippers. Without removing my boots I knew what my toes would look like. And then I it hit me. I knew what had happened to my throat. I had grown gills. I was no longer just a man. I was half triton!</p><p></p><p>I slumped into a chair, exhausted after my transformation and distraught at its consequences. What would Gyda think or Father for that matter? I would be cast out, renounced from the family and my titles. I almost sobbed at the thought, but caught myself, as I saw the advantage that I now had. I would be able to swim like a fish and breathe underwater. I was sure that could become tremendously useful. My only physical deformity was the webbing between my fingers and toes. No-one would have to see that. I would wear gloves and boots. Gyda, I was sure, would not care. She continued to love me without a hand, and now I had it back again, with improvements. No, my transformation was not something to be distressed about, it was something that could only be positive.</p><p></p><p>Taen clapped with girlish glee. “Marvelous!” she giggled “You’re half fish-man!” and then more softly as if to herself she added, “I always wanted to know what that potion did.”</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Haraash Saan, post: 5312816, member: 46615"] Hovel is probably an understatement. Taen’s den was a shambles of filth, refuse and barely standing rotten timber walls. I know not how it even stood. There was no door as such just a triangular entrance formed by two planks butted against one another. A tattered and patched curtain was all that provided privacy, although here in Vronburg the stony faced residents had little concern of the private affairs of others, each had their own issues and internal demons. Taen seemed to be the perfect denizen of her home. The old crone wore a dress very similar to the curtain in her doorway and her stooped posture allowed her easily to move within the shack. Her face was carved with not just the lines of significant age but all manner of blotches and sores. Moxadder made hasty introductions and then crouched quietly to one side, allowing the rest of us room, if somewhat cramped, in Taen’s abode. I was feeling rather distressed and uncomfortable, the scent of decay and herbal remedies bubbling from several small cauldrons did nothing to make me feel at ease. I must admit, that I lost track of myself and it suddenly, as if a spell had been broken, Taen rasped “Sir Gerard, what is it that you desire?” Bemused I laughed, and then requested the impossible, “If one of your brews could regrow my hand,” I said as I raised the wooden left hand that Mortec had made for me. “then I would be forever grateful.” “Ah, is that all?” she asked, her mouth twitching into a knowing grin. “I’ve just the thing.” She rummaged around the shelves behind her for a moment before she chuckled gleefully. “Here it is! I knew it was around here somewhere.” In her hand was a small glass vial with a dark blue liquid in it. Taen passed it to me and said, “Here, take it Sir Gerard.” Her eyes twinkled mischievously. “But know that I found it a long time ago. The seller assured me of its restorative properties but could not guarantee exactly what would happen.” I looked at the vial of deep blue liquid that I held in my hand and then at the expectant stare of the witch. Shrugging I pulled the stopper and with one swig downed the bottles bitter contents. Laster would protect me, would he not? Nausea washed through me. I felt my breakfast begin to creep up from my gut. Bile rose up into my mouth and I fought the urge to spit. My stump began to itch furiously. Then Mortec’s beautifully crafted appendage shot off from it, exposing a horrid lump of skin. The itching intensified as five points in the stump began to push out from it as if probing for an exit. I felt strangely detached from the surreal experience and watched with morbid fascination. The skin on the stump stretched as each of the cylindrical probes pushed further forward. Suddenly there was a burst of blood and five fingers, my fingers, broke through the skin. As they grew I flexed and curled them, reassuring myself that my hand was growing back. Soon the palm that was attached to the fingers appeared from within the bloodied stump and then a wrist. Finally the skin from the wrist and the edge of the stump began to knit over the wound so that there was not even a scar. It was a miracle. I stared, mouth agape in wonder, at my new hand. The itching had stopped. I flexed the regrown hand, once again making sure that it was no trick and that the hand was very much my own. It was. I beamed a smile of appreciation to the witch, but before I could register her response I began to choke. My hands went to my throat. Something was very wrong. I could not breathe. I gagged as I sought for air. The inside of my throat seemed to tear in several places. I sank to my knees, feeling faint from lack of oxygen. Then just as suddenly I managed to suck in a breath. I coughed loudly, twice, as I tried too quickly to gasp in more air, and then I was breathing normally. I rubbed my throat, massaging it. Something felt rather uncomfortable, well not uncomfortable but unusual. “Are you alright Gerard?” said a concerned Morgan. “Yes. Fine, I think.” was my slightly strangled reply. I stood and gazed at my new hand. It was indeed a marvel. It was exactly as I remembered it. Somehow the magical elixir had regenerated it as it had once been. But then it began to itch once more. The webbing in between each of my fingers tingled and I suppressed the urge to scratch them. A wave of fear passed through me as I realised it was not just my new fingers but the digits of my other hand and my feet now had the same itch! What was happening to me? I held my hands, fingers spread, in front of my face as I looked at them wide eyed in horror. The webbing expanded, climbing along the inner edge of each finger until finally it ceased at the last joint. Once more the itching stopped, this time for good. My hands, my beautiful hands, were now almost fingered flippers. Without removing my boots I knew what my toes would look like. And then I it hit me. I knew what had happened to my throat. I had grown gills. I was no longer just a man. I was half triton! I slumped into a chair, exhausted after my transformation and distraught at its consequences. What would Gyda think or Father for that matter? I would be cast out, renounced from the family and my titles. I almost sobbed at the thought, but caught myself, as I saw the advantage that I now had. I would be able to swim like a fish and breathe underwater. I was sure that could become tremendously useful. My only physical deformity was the webbing between my fingers and toes. No-one would have to see that. I would wear gloves and boots. Gyda, I was sure, would not care. She continued to love me without a hand, and now I had it back again, with improvements. No, my transformation was not something to be distressed about, it was something that could only be positive. Taen clapped with girlish glee. “Marvelous!” she giggled “You’re half fish-man!” and then more softly as if to herself she added, “I always wanted to know what that potion did.” [/QUOTE]
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