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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: 5331081" data-attributes="member: 46615"><p>We spent the evening in a tavern, all except Moxadder who had once again disappeared on his own business. We soon learnt that the Princess had left the city some two weeks previous and was currently in the Convent of the Six Sisters, a nunnery of the Veiled Sisters of Laster. It so happened we would leave Morannin quickly. More quickly than I had anticipated, and we decided not to respond immediately to Mecros’s request, but perhaps take him up on it on our return journey.</p><p></p><p>The next morning we mounted our steeds, Morgan having purchased a pony that was more to his size, and headed south to the convent.</p><p></p><p>Moxadder chose to join us in the chill of the morning with the cold visible on our breath. During the course of his evening activities he had observed a man passing some coin to the patrons of a tavern. Whilst Moxadder nursed an ale he overheard the man asking about the princess. This peaked my Fastendian friend’s curiosity and he followed the fellow to a couple more taverns where more coin was flashed about and similar questions were asked. </p><p></p><p>At the third tavern the man must have finally been satisfied for he allowed himself a toothy grin and dropped a heavy purse onto the table of the grateful guardsman to whom he had spoken. </p><p></p><p>Unfortunately Moxadder became distracted, as only Moxadder could, and his quarry had slipped out into the night. </p><p></p><p>Our horses stamped shod hooves on the cobbles, keen to get underway. All except Zwingly, Argonne’s steed. He stood still, muscles tensed and nostrils flaring angrily. Not surprising really considering he still despised his owner. </p><p></p><p>“Tha’s ‘im.” hissed Moxadder, finger stabbing to his left. </p><p></p><p>We turned and our eyes followed his outstretched arm, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. </p><p></p><p>“Who?” I inquired, not understanding his reference. </p><p></p><p>”The man from last night.” He said with urgency. </p><p></p><p>I looked again and spied a hooded man throwing his leg over a bay mare. With a gentle kick he prompted it to toward us. As he approached I stepped into his path and said, “Good morning sir. I trust it finds you well.” </p><p></p><p>He reigned his horse in and stared at me. </p><p></p><p>“I understand you have been inquiring of the whereabouts of Princess Isabella,” I said matter-of-factly. There was no point in avoiding the issue. I felt it best to confront him and observe his response. </p><p></p><p>“Eh? Dunno what ya talking ‘bout.” He grunted and tried to nudge his horse to move passed me. </p><p></p><p>I moved to block his way again and with a smile said, “Come now. Hop off you beast and let us have a chat.” </p><p></p><p>With a snarl he hammered his heels into his mounts flanks and charged at me! I leapt aside with a muttered curse. </p><p></p><p>“After him!” commanded Morgan. </p><p></p><p>“I’ll get ‘im” said Argonne calmly as he strode forward. He raised his arms from his body as he walked and they began to sprout feathers. His torso followed suit and his legs transformed into those of a bird, ending in cruel looking talons. Turning his head to look at us we no longer saw his concealed face, but the glare of an eagle. With a powerful flap of his wings and accompanying shriek he launched himself into the sky. </p><p></p><p>We mounted our horses, and with Zwingly being led by a wary Stravarious we followed at a more leisurely pace, confident that Argonne would stop the rider. </p><p></p><p>The southern gates of Morannin loomed before us when we heard the clatter of hooves fast approaching. Argonne’s prey appeared a block ahead of us, apparently having tried to lose any pursuit before leaving the city. The rising sun momentarily silhouetted a great eagle that once more let out a shrill screech. There was a surprised oink and suddenly the rider was pitched forward, sprawling on the road. Stupefied he rolled onto his back and his jaw slackened as he saw a pig standing where his mare had been! It trotted up to him and lovingly nuzzled his boot. </p><p></p><p>We ourselves were wide-eyed for a moment, before bursting out in fits of laughter at the ridiculousness of the situation. </p><p></p><p>Argonne the eagle landed gracefully beside the bewildered man and transformed back into Argonne the man. “So can my friend have that talk now?” he asked. </p><p></p><p>The rider leapt up, screaming in fear and rage and charged Argonne with flailing fists. The shape changing woodsman shoved aside his assailant, causing him to stumble. He managed to recover his footing, however, and continued to run through the southern gate. </p><p></p><p>I rode up to join Argonne, wiping the tears of mirth from my eyes and barely keeping laughter in check. “Leave him.” I said as I put a hand on his shoulder. “He will not get to the Princess on foot before we do.” </p><p></p><p>“Yes.” Agreed Morgan. “And we’d best move off quietly before any guards notice us. Be thankful that this is the southern gate, it is not as heavily watched as the north gate that faces the Dominion.” </p><p></p><p>Argonne scratched the pigs head. “I don’t suppose you want to stay a pig do you?” </p><p></p><p>The pig looked up at him with big brown eyes. </p><p></p><p>“No. I didn’t think so.” said Argonne. He then called out some strange words and the pig was transformed back into the bay mare. The horse nuzzled Argonne in thanks and then trotted back toward its stable.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Haraash Saan, post: 5331081, member: 46615"] We spent the evening in a tavern, all except Moxadder who had once again disappeared on his own business. We soon learnt that the Princess had left the city some two weeks previous and was currently in the Convent of the Six Sisters, a nunnery of the Veiled Sisters of Laster. It so happened we would leave Morannin quickly. More quickly than I had anticipated, and we decided not to respond immediately to Mecros’s request, but perhaps take him up on it on our return journey. The next morning we mounted our steeds, Morgan having purchased a pony that was more to his size, and headed south to the convent. Moxadder chose to join us in the chill of the morning with the cold visible on our breath. During the course of his evening activities he had observed a man passing some coin to the patrons of a tavern. Whilst Moxadder nursed an ale he overheard the man asking about the princess. This peaked my Fastendian friend’s curiosity and he followed the fellow to a couple more taverns where more coin was flashed about and similar questions were asked. At the third tavern the man must have finally been satisfied for he allowed himself a toothy grin and dropped a heavy purse onto the table of the grateful guardsman to whom he had spoken. Unfortunately Moxadder became distracted, as only Moxadder could, and his quarry had slipped out into the night. Our horses stamped shod hooves on the cobbles, keen to get underway. All except Zwingly, Argonne’s steed. He stood still, muscles tensed and nostrils flaring angrily. Not surprising really considering he still despised his owner. “Tha’s ‘im.” hissed Moxadder, finger stabbing to his left. We turned and our eyes followed his outstretched arm, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. “Who?” I inquired, not understanding his reference. ”The man from last night.” He said with urgency. I looked again and spied a hooded man throwing his leg over a bay mare. With a gentle kick he prompted it to toward us. As he approached I stepped into his path and said, “Good morning sir. I trust it finds you well.” He reigned his horse in and stared at me. “I understand you have been inquiring of the whereabouts of Princess Isabella,” I said matter-of-factly. There was no point in avoiding the issue. I felt it best to confront him and observe his response. “Eh? Dunno what ya talking ‘bout.” He grunted and tried to nudge his horse to move passed me. I moved to block his way again and with a smile said, “Come now. Hop off you beast and let us have a chat.” With a snarl he hammered his heels into his mounts flanks and charged at me! I leapt aside with a muttered curse. “After him!” commanded Morgan. “I’ll get ‘im” said Argonne calmly as he strode forward. He raised his arms from his body as he walked and they began to sprout feathers. His torso followed suit and his legs transformed into those of a bird, ending in cruel looking talons. Turning his head to look at us we no longer saw his concealed face, but the glare of an eagle. With a powerful flap of his wings and accompanying shriek he launched himself into the sky. We mounted our horses, and with Zwingly being led by a wary Stravarious we followed at a more leisurely pace, confident that Argonne would stop the rider. The southern gates of Morannin loomed before us when we heard the clatter of hooves fast approaching. Argonne’s prey appeared a block ahead of us, apparently having tried to lose any pursuit before leaving the city. The rising sun momentarily silhouetted a great eagle that once more let out a shrill screech. There was a surprised oink and suddenly the rider was pitched forward, sprawling on the road. Stupefied he rolled onto his back and his jaw slackened as he saw a pig standing where his mare had been! It trotted up to him and lovingly nuzzled his boot. We ourselves were wide-eyed for a moment, before bursting out in fits of laughter at the ridiculousness of the situation. Argonne the eagle landed gracefully beside the bewildered man and transformed back into Argonne the man. “So can my friend have that talk now?” he asked. The rider leapt up, screaming in fear and rage and charged Argonne with flailing fists. The shape changing woodsman shoved aside his assailant, causing him to stumble. He managed to recover his footing, however, and continued to run through the southern gate. I rode up to join Argonne, wiping the tears of mirth from my eyes and barely keeping laughter in check. “Leave him.” I said as I put a hand on his shoulder. “He will not get to the Princess on foot before we do.” “Yes.” Agreed Morgan. “And we’d best move off quietly before any guards notice us. Be thankful that this is the southern gate, it is not as heavily watched as the north gate that faces the Dominion.” Argonne scratched the pigs head. “I don’t suppose you want to stay a pig do you?” The pig looked up at him with big brown eyes. “No. I didn’t think so.” said Argonne. He then called out some strange words and the pig was transformed back into the bay mare. The horse nuzzled Argonne in thanks and then trotted back toward its stable. [/QUOTE]
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