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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: 2847246" data-attributes="member: 15187"><p>Moxadder barely made a noise as he scouted the hide-out. His few possessions were tightly secured and his long thin legs stepped lightly across the soft limestone. Torches were secured at intervals along the passageways, providing ample light. He moved up to an opening on his right. A cautious peek suggested it was another store room. Looking ahead, he saw further archways lead off from the left and the right. A little beyond these the corridor stopped in front of a heavy wooden door. The Irudeshian stopped still and listened intently. Not a sound could be heard from the way ahead. Behind him he could hear the firm voices of his companions questioning the captive pirates.</p><p></p><p>The wide corridor that Stravarius had selected led South for a short distance before turning North. After twenty or so paces his way forward was blocked by iron bars, somewhat rusted but still strong. Peering past this obstruction he could see captives huddled in filthy cells. A smell of waste, despair and decay overwhelmed his nose and dragged bile up to his throat. A single torch provided only feeble illumination but his Dominion cursed heritage allowed his eyes to easily pierce the gloom. </p><p></p><p>Beyond the portcullis that guarded entry to the small prison there were four cells. Two to a side, with a narrow passageway between. Each cell was a combination of cold, slimy stone walls and ceiling length iron bars. One cell contained an old man stretched motionlessly on his back with a bent old woman squatting against the cell’s stone wall. The lack of any movement in the man gave a sinister clue to his condition. The adjacent cell held a muscular man in his early forties. Despite obvious signs of rough treatment he appeared quite hale. His powerful forearms rested impotently between two of the bars, clearly defeated by their cold strength. </p><p></p><p>On the other side of the prison two young women leant against each other. One wept silently, her shoulders shaking in time with her stifled sobs while the other listlessly tried to console her. Both appeared hard used. The inhabitants of the final cell were more unusual. Although their scales were dulled and besmirched with the muck of their captivity, they were clearly recognisable as Tritons. No doubt kin of those who made their homes in the shallows around Sorcerer’s Isle. The sea creatures were clearly miserable, their great gills flapping desperately in their effort to strain sustenance from the moisture in the air. Deprivation of their natural element had reduced them to a desperate state. Three of the creatures lay in the pen; two elders and a younger, slighter one. Though one of the elders appeared near death, he dribbled a small measure of water from a large bucket onto the neck of the youngster.</p><p></p><p>Stravarius remained in the gloom of the passageway and observed quietly. So abject were the prisoners in their misery that they had not heard or seen his approach. He reached a gloved hand up to his head and pulled his cowl lower over his face. Despite his sympathy for them he doubted his demonic appearance would give them any comfort. Resignedly he turned his back on them and retraced his steps. Their suffering would have to endure until he could return with the others.</p><p></p><p>While Moxadder and Stravarius had gone exploring the others had wasted no time in beginning their interrogation. Argonne pushed his homely face into that of Jack’s as he broadly annunciated his questions. The great leader of pirates lacked composure and blabbered desperately to keep the intimidating woodsman appeased. He rapidly confessed to raiding the coasts along the Cursed Sea and also informed them that a large part of the fleet was currently out on a raid, hence their inability to repulse their captors. </p><p></p><p>Mortec, who had been closely watching the proceedings grew increasingly suspicious. The man was plainly dressed, with the simple shirt and trousers that almost passed for a uniform amongst the Blood Sails. The only adornment he possessed was a plain silver ring, a thin battered thing that was scarcely worth the metal it was made from. The pirate himself was unprepossessing. His chin was weak and his hair lank and greasy. His eyes appeared small and pinched together due to the fatness of his cheeks. Mortec started to voice his suspicions when he was interrupted by the return of Stravarius. </p><p></p><p>“They have prisoners!” The Black Elf announced the moment he entered the hall. “Men, women and even some of those Tritons we met on the journey across. They have all suffered much by the look of them. They are locked in cells, we’ll probably need the keys to get them all out.”</p><p></p><p>The gnome turned to the man calling himself Rumscully Jack. “If you are who you say you are, you should have the keys to the prison.</p><p></p><p>“I do!” The man gabbled eagerly, “but not with me. They are in my barracks, I mean chambers, at the end of that corridor”, he said pointing in the direction Moxadder had gone.</p><p></p><p>“Moxadder!” Shouted the gnome, his voice carrying surprisingly well for such a diminutive fellow. “Search the room at the end of the hall. We are looking for keys to the prison cells”.</p><p></p><p>Hearing the command, the Irudeshian slouched up to the door. It was made of heavy wood and was closely set into the surrounding stone. An iron ring positioned just above waist height seemed the obvious means of entry. He grasped hold of the handle and gave it a sharp twist. The Irudeshian experienced a brief moment of doomed anticipation as he felt his action release a tremendous amount of energy from a hidden mechanism. The next instant a blade shot out of the door and skewered him a half inch below the sternum. Moxadder hissed in pain and surprise before collapsing backwards to the floor. The feeling of the blade doing him further harm as he slid back off it was a terrible one.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Fiasco, post: 2847246, member: 15187"] Moxadder barely made a noise as he scouted the hide-out. His few possessions were tightly secured and his long thin legs stepped lightly across the soft limestone. Torches were secured at intervals along the passageways, providing ample light. He moved up to an opening on his right. A cautious peek suggested it was another store room. Looking ahead, he saw further archways lead off from the left and the right. A little beyond these the corridor stopped in front of a heavy wooden door. The Irudeshian stopped still and listened intently. Not a sound could be heard from the way ahead. Behind him he could hear the firm voices of his companions questioning the captive pirates. The wide corridor that Stravarius had selected led South for a short distance before turning North. After twenty or so paces his way forward was blocked by iron bars, somewhat rusted but still strong. Peering past this obstruction he could see captives huddled in filthy cells. A smell of waste, despair and decay overwhelmed his nose and dragged bile up to his throat. A single torch provided only feeble illumination but his Dominion cursed heritage allowed his eyes to easily pierce the gloom. Beyond the portcullis that guarded entry to the small prison there were four cells. Two to a side, with a narrow passageway between. Each cell was a combination of cold, slimy stone walls and ceiling length iron bars. One cell contained an old man stretched motionlessly on his back with a bent old woman squatting against the cell’s stone wall. The lack of any movement in the man gave a sinister clue to his condition. The adjacent cell held a muscular man in his early forties. Despite obvious signs of rough treatment he appeared quite hale. His powerful forearms rested impotently between two of the bars, clearly defeated by their cold strength. On the other side of the prison two young women leant against each other. One wept silently, her shoulders shaking in time with her stifled sobs while the other listlessly tried to console her. Both appeared hard used. The inhabitants of the final cell were more unusual. Although their scales were dulled and besmirched with the muck of their captivity, they were clearly recognisable as Tritons. No doubt kin of those who made their homes in the shallows around Sorcerer’s Isle. The sea creatures were clearly miserable, their great gills flapping desperately in their effort to strain sustenance from the moisture in the air. Deprivation of their natural element had reduced them to a desperate state. Three of the creatures lay in the pen; two elders and a younger, slighter one. Though one of the elders appeared near death, he dribbled a small measure of water from a large bucket onto the neck of the youngster. Stravarius remained in the gloom of the passageway and observed quietly. So abject were the prisoners in their misery that they had not heard or seen his approach. He reached a gloved hand up to his head and pulled his cowl lower over his face. Despite his sympathy for them he doubted his demonic appearance would give them any comfort. Resignedly he turned his back on them and retraced his steps. Their suffering would have to endure until he could return with the others. While Moxadder and Stravarius had gone exploring the others had wasted no time in beginning their interrogation. Argonne pushed his homely face into that of Jack’s as he broadly annunciated his questions. The great leader of pirates lacked composure and blabbered desperately to keep the intimidating woodsman appeased. He rapidly confessed to raiding the coasts along the Cursed Sea and also informed them that a large part of the fleet was currently out on a raid, hence their inability to repulse their captors. Mortec, who had been closely watching the proceedings grew increasingly suspicious. The man was plainly dressed, with the simple shirt and trousers that almost passed for a uniform amongst the Blood Sails. The only adornment he possessed was a plain silver ring, a thin battered thing that was scarcely worth the metal it was made from. The pirate himself was unprepossessing. His chin was weak and his hair lank and greasy. His eyes appeared small and pinched together due to the fatness of his cheeks. Mortec started to voice his suspicions when he was interrupted by the return of Stravarius. “They have prisoners!” The Black Elf announced the moment he entered the hall. “Men, women and even some of those Tritons we met on the journey across. They have all suffered much by the look of them. They are locked in cells, we’ll probably need the keys to get them all out.” The gnome turned to the man calling himself Rumscully Jack. “If you are who you say you are, you should have the keys to the prison. “I do!” The man gabbled eagerly, “but not with me. They are in my barracks, I mean chambers, at the end of that corridor”, he said pointing in the direction Moxadder had gone. “Moxadder!” Shouted the gnome, his voice carrying surprisingly well for such a diminutive fellow. “Search the room at the end of the hall. We are looking for keys to the prison cells”. Hearing the command, the Irudeshian slouched up to the door. It was made of heavy wood and was closely set into the surrounding stone. An iron ring positioned just above waist height seemed the obvious means of entry. He grasped hold of the handle and gave it a sharp twist. The Irudeshian experienced a brief moment of doomed anticipation as he felt his action release a tremendous amount of energy from a hidden mechanism. The next instant a blade shot out of the door and skewered him a half inch below the sternum. Moxadder hissed in pain and surprise before collapsing backwards to the floor. The feeling of the blade doing him further harm as he slid back off it was a terrible one. [/QUOTE]
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