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<blockquote data-quote="Goonalan" data-source="post: 4767813" data-attributes="member: 16069"><p>The Friday Knights in Sellswords of Fallcrest</p><p></p><p>Part 4: A Dark Cloud gathers.</p><p></p><p>Cathal chews at his beard, Ignaran keeps quiet, a confrontation lies ahead it seems- something the Druid knows very little about, leave it to the experts he thinks. Wordlessly Kullervo, the neophyte Rogue, concurs.</p><p></p><p>Nimozaran's Tower, a bloody pigsty - scratch that - Ignaran had seen cleaner pigsties; arcane implements, for which read odd items of no value, or use, with hieroglyphics and/or stars and moons on them [1], mixed in with the rotting remains of meals, some of which may be fast approaching their birthdays [2].</p><p></p><p>Nimozaran however was in grand form-</p><p></p><p>“I have been calculating the movements of the heavenly bodies, making appraisals, my auguries require long hours of research- the Lord Markelhay depends upon me for sage advice [3]. I have no time for the mundane things, per ardva ad astra... as they say- through endeavour to the stars.”</p><p>“Head in the clouds more like.” Ignaran mutters and scans the room, in search of a chair, and failing that somewhere safe to perch, to no avail.</p><p>“Which is why I called you.”</p><p>“Go on.” Ignaran puts a hand out to lean against the wall, regrets it instantly. The chipped plaster is damp and warm, and greasy- he wipes away the traces on his robe.</p><p>“Your father spoke very highly of you, before he...” [4] Nimozaran waves a hand about, a vague gesture.</p><p>“Yes.” Ignaran agrees.</p><p>“Anyway, a natural phenomena, can't see it now”, Nimozaran indicates the spyglass set up at the towers open window, “but during the day, well...”</p><p>“What sort of phenomena?” Ignaran circumspectly makes his way to the window, it takes a while.</p><p>“A dark cloud, or some such, the stars are more my thing- heavenly bodies, have I already said that; anyway a dark cloud gathers- rather foreboding isn't it?” Nimozaran chuckles.</p><p>Ignaran shrugs back.</p><p>“Over an abandoned tower, down by the docks, Cutpurse Alley way- Beggar King's domain, not nice- a filthy place.” The last part of the sentence is spat out with as much disgust as the Mage can muster.</p><p>Ignaran looks around the tower again, “filthy”, he agrees.</p><p>“Yes, well- I want you to take a look. Reports you see.”</p><p>“Reports of what?” Ignaran asks.</p><p>But is deflected by Nimozaran's 'search me' look and multiple shrugs.</p><p>“All this way for...” Ignaran starts.</p><p>“Better to be safe than sorry... isn't that what your father used to say?” Nimozaran smiles, a patronising smile.</p><p></p><p>Ignaran shakes his head, bends to look through the spyglass- he's here now, he may as well take a look, they'll pay- not that money is important, he does however need some new blankets, and his coffee pot is looking battered, a few creature comforts wouldn't go amiss.</p><p></p><p>The Druid straightens up, fixes a crooked smile on his face and stares hard at Nimozaran, who stares back- expectantly, “Well?”</p><p>“You use this to study heavenly bodies?” Ignaran indicates the spyglass.</p><p>“Yes, yes. Well- will you do it?” Nimozaran asks impatiently.</p><p>“Yes. Of course. My pleasure.” Ignaran smirks back and is met by a nicotine stained grin- which a little later, when Ignaran replays the moment in his mind, makes him feel apprehensive.</p><p></p><p>The Druid bends down again to get one last look at the naked fat lady sploshing up and down in a much too small water butt, soaping herself, and obviously enjoying the experience [5]; he straightens again, winks at the High Septarch, and departs.</p><p></p><p>“Right. Listen up- you two make your way forward, stay hidden for a minute, then spring out, give them all you've got. While the enemy are engaged with you I shall cross to the other side, move forward at speed, and take them by surprise- they won’t know what hit them.” Cathal finishes and slams a fist into the palm of his hand, he begins to move away.</p><p>“Hang on. How are you...” Kullervo starts up.</p><p>“That's my concern. Just you do your bit.” Cathal settles it.</p><p>“Which is...?” Ignaran’s still not sure. [6]</p><p>“Throw something at them, whatever it is you do- get their attention, sing and dance for all I care. Just give me the chance to get around them!” Cathal barks and splutters.</p><p></p><p>And with that the warrior shoos the pair away, Ignaran and Kullervo share a worried look, then edge forward, hidden in the lea of the roof. Trying to find a safe and secure hiding place opposite the flat roof on which the three guards perch- one fat, one thin and one staring at the toe-nail of the moon- open mouthed, and in-between gawps, grinning. </p><p></p><p>[1] “Incantata & Implementia”, proprietor Alan Shuttlecock, Gnome Magikinator; made a small fortune selling Wizard-Kits, Alchemy-Kits, and various other Do-It-Yourself items, including the Home Diabolist Pack, and the “So you want to make a Pact with the Devil- Starter Kit.” Alas his shop “went on fire” three months back, all his stock was destroyed in the conflagration and the Gnome's body was never found. Rumours of Demonic rituals were hastily quashed by the Fallcrest City Guard- it was they said, “an insurance job”, although to date no one has made a claim.</p><p></p><p>[2] A few of the abandoned half-consumed meals are actually looking forward to their second birthdays- one, the remains of a Child's Portion of Fishy-Fingers and Ye Olde Chips, is only two months away from its third.</p><p></p><p>[3] The job of Court Magician is actually a sinecure, like Court Jester, only less well thought of. Nimozaran's only use, according to Count Fosco, one of Markelhay's flunkies, is as a convenient place to rest Nimorazan's hat. Truth be told it is a very good hat- although some of the stars and moons have started to peel off.</p><p></p><p>[4] Ah yes, I wonder what Ignaran's father did? I hope you do too.</p><p></p><p>[5] Mrs. Candice Fanakapan, 34; cook, glass-washer and general dogsbody at “The Market 'otel”, a low to no-class establishment where rooms are rented by the hour. She is, it seems, very fond of her nightly ablutions.</p><p></p><p>[6] Ignaran’s last major confrontation was with a swarm of Fire Ants three summers ago. They’d started renting out space in his lean-to accommodation, and were way behind with the rent- something had to give. Ignaran moved out two days later, it took two weeks for the ants to find him again- but those two weeks were bliss.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Goonalan, post: 4767813, member: 16069"] The Friday Knights in Sellswords of Fallcrest Part 4: A Dark Cloud gathers. Cathal chews at his beard, Ignaran keeps quiet, a confrontation lies ahead it seems- something the Druid knows very little about, leave it to the experts he thinks. Wordlessly Kullervo, the neophyte Rogue, concurs. Nimozaran's Tower, a bloody pigsty - scratch that - Ignaran had seen cleaner pigsties; arcane implements, for which read odd items of no value, or use, with hieroglyphics and/or stars and moons on them [1], mixed in with the rotting remains of meals, some of which may be fast approaching their birthdays [2]. Nimozaran however was in grand form- “I have been calculating the movements of the heavenly bodies, making appraisals, my auguries require long hours of research- the Lord Markelhay depends upon me for sage advice [3]. I have no time for the mundane things, per ardva ad astra... as they say- through endeavour to the stars.” “Head in the clouds more like.” Ignaran mutters and scans the room, in search of a chair, and failing that somewhere safe to perch, to no avail. “Which is why I called you.” “Go on.” Ignaran puts a hand out to lean against the wall, regrets it instantly. The chipped plaster is damp and warm, and greasy- he wipes away the traces on his robe. “Your father spoke very highly of you, before he...” [4] Nimozaran waves a hand about, a vague gesture. “Yes.” Ignaran agrees. “Anyway, a natural phenomena, can't see it now”, Nimozaran indicates the spyglass set up at the towers open window, “but during the day, well...” “What sort of phenomena?” Ignaran circumspectly makes his way to the window, it takes a while. “A dark cloud, or some such, the stars are more my thing- heavenly bodies, have I already said that; anyway a dark cloud gathers- rather foreboding isn't it?” Nimozaran chuckles. Ignaran shrugs back. “Over an abandoned tower, down by the docks, Cutpurse Alley way- Beggar King's domain, not nice- a filthy place.” The last part of the sentence is spat out with as much disgust as the Mage can muster. Ignaran looks around the tower again, “filthy”, he agrees. “Yes, well- I want you to take a look. Reports you see.” “Reports of what?” Ignaran asks. But is deflected by Nimozaran's 'search me' look and multiple shrugs. “All this way for...” Ignaran starts. “Better to be safe than sorry... isn't that what your father used to say?” Nimozaran smiles, a patronising smile. Ignaran shakes his head, bends to look through the spyglass- he's here now, he may as well take a look, they'll pay- not that money is important, he does however need some new blankets, and his coffee pot is looking battered, a few creature comforts wouldn't go amiss. The Druid straightens up, fixes a crooked smile on his face and stares hard at Nimozaran, who stares back- expectantly, “Well?” “You use this to study heavenly bodies?” Ignaran indicates the spyglass. “Yes, yes. Well- will you do it?” Nimozaran asks impatiently. “Yes. Of course. My pleasure.” Ignaran smirks back and is met by a nicotine stained grin- which a little later, when Ignaran replays the moment in his mind, makes him feel apprehensive. The Druid bends down again to get one last look at the naked fat lady sploshing up and down in a much too small water butt, soaping herself, and obviously enjoying the experience [5]; he straightens again, winks at the High Septarch, and departs. “Right. Listen up- you two make your way forward, stay hidden for a minute, then spring out, give them all you've got. While the enemy are engaged with you I shall cross to the other side, move forward at speed, and take them by surprise- they won’t know what hit them.” Cathal finishes and slams a fist into the palm of his hand, he begins to move away. “Hang on. How are you...” Kullervo starts up. “That's my concern. Just you do your bit.” Cathal settles it. “Which is...?” Ignaran’s still not sure. [6] “Throw something at them, whatever it is you do- get their attention, sing and dance for all I care. Just give me the chance to get around them!” Cathal barks and splutters. And with that the warrior shoos the pair away, Ignaran and Kullervo share a worried look, then edge forward, hidden in the lea of the roof. Trying to find a safe and secure hiding place opposite the flat roof on which the three guards perch- one fat, one thin and one staring at the toe-nail of the moon- open mouthed, and in-between gawps, grinning. [1] “Incantata & Implementia”, proprietor Alan Shuttlecock, Gnome Magikinator; made a small fortune selling Wizard-Kits, Alchemy-Kits, and various other Do-It-Yourself items, including the Home Diabolist Pack, and the “So you want to make a Pact with the Devil- Starter Kit.” Alas his shop “went on fire” three months back, all his stock was destroyed in the conflagration and the Gnome's body was never found. Rumours of Demonic rituals were hastily quashed by the Fallcrest City Guard- it was they said, “an insurance job”, although to date no one has made a claim. [2] A few of the abandoned half-consumed meals are actually looking forward to their second birthdays- one, the remains of a Child's Portion of Fishy-Fingers and Ye Olde Chips, is only two months away from its third. [3] The job of Court Magician is actually a sinecure, like Court Jester, only less well thought of. Nimozaran's only use, according to Count Fosco, one of Markelhay's flunkies, is as a convenient place to rest Nimorazan's hat. Truth be told it is a very good hat- although some of the stars and moons have started to peel off. [4] Ah yes, I wonder what Ignaran's father did? I hope you do too. [5] Mrs. Candice Fanakapan, 34; cook, glass-washer and general dogsbody at “The Market 'otel”, a low to no-class establishment where rooms are rented by the hour. She is, it seems, very fond of her nightly ablutions. [6] Ignaran’s last major confrontation was with a swarm of Fire Ants three summers ago. They’d started renting out space in his lean-to accommodation, and were way behind with the rent- something had to give. Ignaran moved out two days later, it took two weeks for the ants to find him again- but those two weeks were bliss. [/QUOTE]
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