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Anka Seth - The Rise of the Hydra (New Update April 19, 2007)
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<blockquote data-quote="Fiasco" data-source="post: 2840430" data-attributes="member: 15187"><p>The voice managed to sound rough, cultured and bored all at the same time and it caused the entire party to jump. Collectively they turned to face it and saw a creature that stood where Kuruul had been sleeping only moments before. It was humanoid in shape, but of even more bizarre appearance than the tritons they had encountered earlier. It, or rather he was of a stature was comparable to Mortec’s yet somehow his otherworldly presence made him fill the room. His hands were a dark tan in colour and where visible, the rest of him was covered with a light fur of similar shade. As the hair climbed higher up his body it darkened to a heavy brown for his beard and further to midnight black on his head. </p><p></p><p>He was immaculately groomed, with only a single thick forelock hanging loose over his dark green eyes, clearly for effect. His teeth were jet black and cruelly pointed, though immaculately straight. He wore a tightly fitted jacket of deep burgundy with finely sown pockets arranged in two rows on the left breast. Silken pants of dark blue were tucked in to calf high boots made of black scales.</p><p></p><p> A small sword, curved somewhat like a scimitar hung on his left hip and a small leather satchel was slung casually over his back. A bandoleer of soft leather pouches was draped across his chest. The style of clothing affected by the new comer seemed completely outlandish to the Hydra though they could not deny he wore it with panache. The stranger continued speaking, ignoring the sensation his appearance had caused. He addressed his remarks to Stravarius, whose story had piqued his interest.</p><p></p><p>“Someone who has survived the work of Rawloqu the Transmuter with his soul intact! This is truly a singular occurrence!” He made a brief but complex gesture. “Yes, yes, so it is. He speaks truly, he is not one of them. This is most salutary!” the creature beamed at Stravarius, much as a parent might at a child’s first attempt to burble a word. </p><p></p><p>“W w w what are you?” Gerard spluttered, the first of the Hydra to regain his wits. Kuruul looked back at his witless companions of the last two months. He had found their antics remarkably boring until now, but there was no denying their looks of bemused startlement were amusing. The normally eloquent Gerard was stuttering like an idiot, Morgan seemed to be trying to rip himself in two, so divided was he in who to strike at first, Mortec’s jaw was still hanging half way to the ground (not so difficult for one so short), Argonne looked little better and Stravarius looked utterly deflated, his thunder completely stolen. Moxadder’s scarred face gave little away but his hand shook violently as he took a deep drag of his Devil Weed. With a wicked grin that showed off far too many teeth, Kuruul decided to slake the Hydra’s curiosity.</p><p></p><p>He claimed to be a Bharghest, a strange race who’s very blood flowed with the arcane mastery that was their heritage. They had regarded the other humanoid races as barely sentient, paying them scant regard as they pursued their own obscure lore. Not even the Convocation at the height of its power had intruded greatly on their awareness. Thus they whiled away the millennia, confident that their guile and their intelligence and their sorcerous art would preserve them from all harm. The advent of the Dominion came as a supreme shock to a people who had never known adversity. Being amoral at best, they had thought that they could simply ally with the northern hoards and continue as before. By the time they comprehended the rapacious ambition that drove the Dominion, it was too late. </p><p></p><p>Their erstwhile allies struck when they were unready and most of their race perished at one stroke. Not a numerous people to begin with, the survivors were too few to make an effective counter blow despite the powers they still commanded. They were picked off one at a time, at the Dominion’s will, almost as an afterthought to their ongoing subjugation of Anka Seth. For Kuruul, one of the last survivors, this was what hurt the most. That his race, by far the greatest of this world had become little more than a footnote due to their fatal naivety.</p><p></p><p>Still, as the Bharghests used to say, life is long, and retribution can outwait even death. Kuruul had a lot of time to plot his revenge, and he bent his mighty intellect upon this single task. He boasted to the Hydra that he was the greatest wizard and swordsman of his race. Depressingly, the diminishment of his race stole the grandeur from the claim. Mortec had questioned him as to why he travelled with them, and especially why he did so in the form of a hound. </p><p></p><p>The Bharghest’s explanation deflated the little fellow quite considerably. The simple truth was that humanity and its related races bored him. Only one such creature in tens of thousands showed any originality of thought. Baron Yorath had been one such man, and so Kuruul had agreed to accompany the Hydra in their adventures. Accompany them, but not submit himself to the tedium of their daily affairs. Thus, he found it more convenient to travel as a dog. Functioning as a hound occupied only the tiniest fraction of his mind, he explained, leaving the rest of it to grapple with the metaphysical complexities of trying to bring down a world spanning empire down single handed. The problem, he conceded was a thorny one, so he would appreciate it if they didn’t wake him from his canine slumber unless something truly interesting was afoot. </p><p></p><p>As the Bharghest completed his tale, he casually opened a shuttered window, allowing a large bat ingress to the room. The beast squeaked irritatingly as it circled the room, before settling itself to dangle up side down in the rafters. Before the startled eyes of the Hydra, Kuruul was one moment a strange dark and toothy creature, and the next the hound that had been so familiar to them. The beast, turned three times on the spot, the same as any mongrel from the street. Only a very human wink of an eye betrayed Kuruul’s disguise as he settled down to sleep.</p><p></p><p>The following hour hummed with chatter as the companions tried to encompass the avalanche of revelations they’d been buried under. By tacit agreement, Stravarius was accepted as one of them, though Morgan privately held to his reservations. Ultimately, they decided to accept Kuruul as well, though they were no closer to understanding what he intended or how he hoped to accomplish his desires. What swayed them was their trust in the Baron. Yorath had dealt very generously with them and was not a man who did anything unless it served a purpose (or two or three). It was he that had decreed that Kuruul be part of their company and so it would be. </p><p></p><p>Outside, the sun had advanced across the sky with no regard for their debate and they had seen almost nothing of the town. The Hydra decided to swiftly repair this deficiency by using the last of the daylight hours to explore the streets of Port Warlock. Kuruul remained behind, the canine part of his mind already asleep while the fierce intellect that sheltered behind it contemplated the genesis of the Black Elves and sought to find ways of exploiting this knowledge to the detriment of the Dominion.</p><p></p><p style="text-align: center">*****</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Fiasco, post: 2840430, member: 15187"] The voice managed to sound rough, cultured and bored all at the same time and it caused the entire party to jump. Collectively they turned to face it and saw a creature that stood where Kuruul had been sleeping only moments before. It was humanoid in shape, but of even more bizarre appearance than the tritons they had encountered earlier. It, or rather he was of a stature was comparable to Mortec’s yet somehow his otherworldly presence made him fill the room. His hands were a dark tan in colour and where visible, the rest of him was covered with a light fur of similar shade. As the hair climbed higher up his body it darkened to a heavy brown for his beard and further to midnight black on his head. He was immaculately groomed, with only a single thick forelock hanging loose over his dark green eyes, clearly for effect. His teeth were jet black and cruelly pointed, though immaculately straight. He wore a tightly fitted jacket of deep burgundy with finely sown pockets arranged in two rows on the left breast. Silken pants of dark blue were tucked in to calf high boots made of black scales. A small sword, curved somewhat like a scimitar hung on his left hip and a small leather satchel was slung casually over his back. A bandoleer of soft leather pouches was draped across his chest. The style of clothing affected by the new comer seemed completely outlandish to the Hydra though they could not deny he wore it with panache. The stranger continued speaking, ignoring the sensation his appearance had caused. He addressed his remarks to Stravarius, whose story had piqued his interest. “Someone who has survived the work of Rawloqu the Transmuter with his soul intact! This is truly a singular occurrence!” He made a brief but complex gesture. “Yes, yes, so it is. He speaks truly, he is not one of them. This is most salutary!” the creature beamed at Stravarius, much as a parent might at a child’s first attempt to burble a word. “W w w what are you?” Gerard spluttered, the first of the Hydra to regain his wits. Kuruul looked back at his witless companions of the last two months. He had found their antics remarkably boring until now, but there was no denying their looks of bemused startlement were amusing. The normally eloquent Gerard was stuttering like an idiot, Morgan seemed to be trying to rip himself in two, so divided was he in who to strike at first, Mortec’s jaw was still hanging half way to the ground (not so difficult for one so short), Argonne looked little better and Stravarius looked utterly deflated, his thunder completely stolen. Moxadder’s scarred face gave little away but his hand shook violently as he took a deep drag of his Devil Weed. With a wicked grin that showed off far too many teeth, Kuruul decided to slake the Hydra’s curiosity. He claimed to be a Bharghest, a strange race who’s very blood flowed with the arcane mastery that was their heritage. They had regarded the other humanoid races as barely sentient, paying them scant regard as they pursued their own obscure lore. Not even the Convocation at the height of its power had intruded greatly on their awareness. Thus they whiled away the millennia, confident that their guile and their intelligence and their sorcerous art would preserve them from all harm. The advent of the Dominion came as a supreme shock to a people who had never known adversity. Being amoral at best, they had thought that they could simply ally with the northern hoards and continue as before. By the time they comprehended the rapacious ambition that drove the Dominion, it was too late. Their erstwhile allies struck when they were unready and most of their race perished at one stroke. Not a numerous people to begin with, the survivors were too few to make an effective counter blow despite the powers they still commanded. They were picked off one at a time, at the Dominion’s will, almost as an afterthought to their ongoing subjugation of Anka Seth. For Kuruul, one of the last survivors, this was what hurt the most. That his race, by far the greatest of this world had become little more than a footnote due to their fatal naivety. Still, as the Bharghests used to say, life is long, and retribution can outwait even death. Kuruul had a lot of time to plot his revenge, and he bent his mighty intellect upon this single task. He boasted to the Hydra that he was the greatest wizard and swordsman of his race. Depressingly, the diminishment of his race stole the grandeur from the claim. Mortec had questioned him as to why he travelled with them, and especially why he did so in the form of a hound. The Bharghest’s explanation deflated the little fellow quite considerably. The simple truth was that humanity and its related races bored him. Only one such creature in tens of thousands showed any originality of thought. Baron Yorath had been one such man, and so Kuruul had agreed to accompany the Hydra in their adventures. Accompany them, but not submit himself to the tedium of their daily affairs. Thus, he found it more convenient to travel as a dog. Functioning as a hound occupied only the tiniest fraction of his mind, he explained, leaving the rest of it to grapple with the metaphysical complexities of trying to bring down a world spanning empire down single handed. The problem, he conceded was a thorny one, so he would appreciate it if they didn’t wake him from his canine slumber unless something truly interesting was afoot. As the Bharghest completed his tale, he casually opened a shuttered window, allowing a large bat ingress to the room. The beast squeaked irritatingly as it circled the room, before settling itself to dangle up side down in the rafters. Before the startled eyes of the Hydra, Kuruul was one moment a strange dark and toothy creature, and the next the hound that had been so familiar to them. The beast, turned three times on the spot, the same as any mongrel from the street. Only a very human wink of an eye betrayed Kuruul’s disguise as he settled down to sleep. The following hour hummed with chatter as the companions tried to encompass the avalanche of revelations they’d been buried under. By tacit agreement, Stravarius was accepted as one of them, though Morgan privately held to his reservations. Ultimately, they decided to accept Kuruul as well, though they were no closer to understanding what he intended or how he hoped to accomplish his desires. What swayed them was their trust in the Baron. Yorath had dealt very generously with them and was not a man who did anything unless it served a purpose (or two or three). It was he that had decreed that Kuruul be part of their company and so it would be. Outside, the sun had advanced across the sky with no regard for their debate and they had seen almost nothing of the town. The Hydra decided to swiftly repair this deficiency by using the last of the daylight hours to explore the streets of Port Warlock. Kuruul remained behind, the canine part of his mind already asleep while the fierce intellect that sheltered behind it contemplated the genesis of the Black Elves and sought to find ways of exploiting this knowledge to the detriment of the Dominion. [CENTER]*****[/CENTER] [/QUOTE]
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