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(Cydra) The Final City
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<blockquote data-quote="the Jester" data-source="post: 7470977" data-attributes="member: 1210"><p>Fandelose is famous for its impregnibility. Its triple walls, and the triple gates, are iconic enough to figure on the city's flag. And yet, the walls don't fully enclose the city. The geography to the north has always been considered sufficient to ward off attacks, and it has almost always proven to be true (the Six-Fingered Hand's attempts on the rice fields during the Fall excepted, and even that was repelled). </p><p></p><p>North, the hills rise, jagged and uneven. Boulders dot them, rough scrub grows on them (though fewer trees every year, as more and more are harvested for the city's needs), footing is uneven, unreliable, and steep. There are no real paths or trails that lead to the north edge of the city from the plains to the south; and the river, increasingly known simply as the Fandelose River, cuts a jagged, deep, fast-flowing gash through the mountains. </p><p></p><p>Red Bank, some twelve miles north of the city, is connected to the city only by the most tenuous trails that roughly parallel the river. As our three, ahem, protagonists- certainly not heroes- trudge through the high, grasping grasses, they spy a goat herder with his charges and exchange greetings. The herder is wary of them; Carl Hungus lingers a little to see if he'll turn his back on the three adventurers, but he doesn't. </p><p></p><p>“I'm telling you, the Army is where it's at.” The bastard child of a ramble and a rant is born from Mad Max as they journey along. He keeps on talking, increasingly drunkenly as the day progresses. He constantly smokes bowls of hempflower, more than either of his companions can keep up with. “You should consider joining up. I'm in the Red Battlet, myself. We're the heavy infantry. You know, I really like to fight. Hopefully we find this Hacker guy soon.”</p><p></p><p>“You said you have an idea where he might be, Hungus?” asks Dzedz. </p><p></p><p>“There are a couple of old bandit hideouts I've, uh, heard of,” the green dragonborn replies. “We're getting fairly close to the first.”</p><p></p><p>Suddenly an arrow shoots from the brush and catches Dzedz by surprise, thunking into his groin. The dwarf is turning at the moment it hits, and as the motion exacerbates the terrible wound, he screams and collapses. </p><p></p><p>Goblins erupt from the brush. More arrows shoot out from the tall grass, but miss the two dragonborn.</p><p></p><p>“Oh no!” cries Mad Max. “This is madness!!”</p><p></p><p>Hungus draws forth a maul and meets the goblin charge. In a single blow, he caves in the first one's chest. The other two that are charging pull up short and slash at him with notched, rusty scimitars. Both deflect off of his hauberk. </p><p></p><p>Max leans down and pours a <em>potion of healing</em> down Dzedz's throat. “Good thing I bought this!” he cries, then springs up and pulls his own maul out. “Maul brothers!” he roars, challenging the goblins. </p><p></p><p>An arrow hits him from the brush. Max curses. </p><p></p><p>Dzedz struggles upright, pronouncing weird arcane syllables, making strange gestures. An glimmering orb appears in his hand, and then shoots out. It hits one of the goblins and explodes. The goblin drops.</p><p></p><p>The two maul-wielding dragonborn strike down the two standing scimitar-wielding goblins, then rush the bushes. Dzedz hobbles after them. “Aagh!” he shouts, shaking one leg. Something blood-covered and grisly falls out of the bottom of his pants. “They took my manhood!”</p><p></p><p>There are four more goblins in the brush, and they try to fall back and hide. But the enraged dwarf won't have it. He fires off bolts of flaming arcane energy and drops two, while each of the dragonborn strikes down another. </p><p></p><p>“Aw, we should have taken one alive, as a slave,” says Hungus. “Or maybe even more than one.”</p><p></p><p>“Screw that!” Dzedz yells. “They cut off my-” He chokes up, scooping up his lost body part. </p><p></p><p>“Ooh, the root and the stones,” Max notes. “I'm sorry.”</p><p></p><p>“Still, a slave or two...”</p><p></p><p>“The Hand races deserve nothing but death,” Mad Max declares. “But maybe slavery is okay, too. I don't know.”</p><p></p><p>“I need to sit down,” says Dzedz.</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>“I don't see what good it will do to turn back,” argues Hungus.</p><p></p><p>“Dude, he just got unmanned!”</p><p></p><p>“And?”</p><p></p><p>“Maybe someone can help! A cleric or something...”</p><p></p><p>Carl Hungus laughs harshly. “There hasn't been a healer capable of that kind of stuff in Fandelose since the Fall! At least, not that I know of.”</p><p></p><p>“Like you know every cleric in town.” </p><p></p><p>“I think everyone would know if anyone could perform that kind of magic. For all I know, powerful magic has been lost with the Fall.”</p><p></p><p>“This is weird,” says Dzedz. He's looting the bodies of the goblins, which yield a few meager copper and silver coins. (At least it's real money and not those damned fake coins the city is using now.) “Look at this.” </p><p></p><p>The other two walk over to where the dwarf has knelt down. He is holding the mouth of one of the corpses open. The goblin's tongue is white and fuzzy, covered in some kind of fungus.</p><p></p><p>“Ew,” says Hungus.</p><p></p><p>“Madness!” crows Mad Max. He pulls out his maul. “Stand back!” </p><p></p><p>“Wait a minute-” Dzedz starts, then leaps back out of the way as Mad Max brings his maul down, smashing the head. “Hold on!” the dwarf barks. “We might be able to learn something here!”</p><p></p><p>“Learn something? Like what? They're goblins.”</p><p></p><p>“Even so.”</p><p></p><p>Carl Hungus leans in and murmurs, “Humor him. He did just suffer a... catastrophic loss.”</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>August afternoon slowly transforms into August evening. The oppressive heat subsides somewhat, but remains enervating. The hillsides to the west begin to fall into shadow.</p><p></p><p>“Up there.” Hungus points at a nearby hill with a wide, flat top dotted with large boulders. “There's great cover and a great view of potential victims on the way to Red Bank. Or so I hear.”</p><p></p><p>The three of them ascend, moving with care. </p><p></p><p>The single bandit on guard is half-asleep, and before he knows what has happened, he is unconscious and bleeding on the ground. </p><p></p><p>The party creeps to the edge of the small camp at the top of the hill. There are three bandits around a fire, talking in low tones and passing a skin of wine back and forth. </p><p></p><p>They don't know what's happening. In only a moment, two of them are dead, and the final one throws down his weapons, crying, “I surrender! Don't hurt me!”</p><p></p><p>Carl Hungus steps to the fore. “Are you guys working with the Hacker?”</p><p></p><p>“No.”</p><p></p><p>Hungus shifts his grip on his maul. “Do you know anything about him?”</p><p></p><p>“I- I heard a rumor about where he's camped, but I don't know if it's true.”</p><p></p><p>“Why don't you just tell me, and let me decide what to think.”</p><p></p><p>“Bandit's Rook. I heard he's at Bandit's Rook.”</p><p></p><p>“Hmmm.”</p><p></p><p>“You know where that is, Hungus?” asks Dzedz.</p><p></p><p>“Yeah. It's a little further north.” </p><p></p><p>“I want to go back to the city first. I want to see if I can get my injury repaired somehow.”</p><p></p><p>Hungus looks dubious. “We can try.”</p><p></p><p>“Damn right, we're going to try.” Dzedz grits his teeth. “I might even have to go on a quest.”</p><p></p><p>“As for you...” Hungus glares at the prisoner. </p><p></p><p>“I helped you! I told you what I know!”</p><p></p><p>“What's your name?”</p><p></p><p>“Benthum.”</p><p></p><p>“All right, Benthum,” Hungus declares, beaming. “You're now my slave.”</p><p></p><p>“Here,” Mad Max says, and gives Benthum a mark. The new-made slave stares at it dumbly. A mark is not an insignificant amount of money.</p><p></p><p>Staring at Mad Max, Hungus says, “I'm not sure you get how this slave thing works.”</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="the Jester, post: 7470977, member: 1210"] Fandelose is famous for its impregnibility. Its triple walls, and the triple gates, are iconic enough to figure on the city's flag. And yet, the walls don't fully enclose the city. The geography to the north has always been considered sufficient to ward off attacks, and it has almost always proven to be true (the Six-Fingered Hand's attempts on the rice fields during the Fall excepted, and even that was repelled). North, the hills rise, jagged and uneven. Boulders dot them, rough scrub grows on them (though fewer trees every year, as more and more are harvested for the city's needs), footing is uneven, unreliable, and steep. There are no real paths or trails that lead to the north edge of the city from the plains to the south; and the river, increasingly known simply as the Fandelose River, cuts a jagged, deep, fast-flowing gash through the mountains. Red Bank, some twelve miles north of the city, is connected to the city only by the most tenuous trails that roughly parallel the river. As our three, ahem, protagonists- certainly not heroes- trudge through the high, grasping grasses, they spy a goat herder with his charges and exchange greetings. The herder is wary of them; Carl Hungus lingers a little to see if he'll turn his back on the three adventurers, but he doesn't. “I'm telling you, the Army is where it's at.” The bastard child of a ramble and a rant is born from Mad Max as they journey along. He keeps on talking, increasingly drunkenly as the day progresses. He constantly smokes bowls of hempflower, more than either of his companions can keep up with. “You should consider joining up. I'm in the Red Battlet, myself. We're the heavy infantry. You know, I really like to fight. Hopefully we find this Hacker guy soon.” “You said you have an idea where he might be, Hungus?” asks Dzedz. “There are a couple of old bandit hideouts I've, uh, heard of,” the green dragonborn replies. “We're getting fairly close to the first.” Suddenly an arrow shoots from the brush and catches Dzedz by surprise, thunking into his groin. The dwarf is turning at the moment it hits, and as the motion exacerbates the terrible wound, he screams and collapses. Goblins erupt from the brush. More arrows shoot out from the tall grass, but miss the two dragonborn. “Oh no!” cries Mad Max. “This is madness!!” Hungus draws forth a maul and meets the goblin charge. In a single blow, he caves in the first one's chest. The other two that are charging pull up short and slash at him with notched, rusty scimitars. Both deflect off of his hauberk. Max leans down and pours a [i]potion of healing[/i] down Dzedz's throat. “Good thing I bought this!” he cries, then springs up and pulls his own maul out. “Maul brothers!” he roars, challenging the goblins. An arrow hits him from the brush. Max curses. Dzedz struggles upright, pronouncing weird arcane syllables, making strange gestures. An glimmering orb appears in his hand, and then shoots out. It hits one of the goblins and explodes. The goblin drops. The two maul-wielding dragonborn strike down the two standing scimitar-wielding goblins, then rush the bushes. Dzedz hobbles after them. “Aagh!” he shouts, shaking one leg. Something blood-covered and grisly falls out of the bottom of his pants. “They took my manhood!” There are four more goblins in the brush, and they try to fall back and hide. But the enraged dwarf won't have it. He fires off bolts of flaming arcane energy and drops two, while each of the dragonborn strikes down another. “Aw, we should have taken one alive, as a slave,” says Hungus. “Or maybe even more than one.” “Screw that!” Dzedz yells. “They cut off my-” He chokes up, scooping up his lost body part. “Ooh, the root and the stones,” Max notes. “I'm sorry.” “Still, a slave or two...” “The Hand races deserve nothing but death,” Mad Max declares. “But maybe slavery is okay, too. I don't know.” “I need to sit down,” says Dzedz. *** “I don't see what good it will do to turn back,” argues Hungus. “Dude, he just got unmanned!” “And?” “Maybe someone can help! A cleric or something...” Carl Hungus laughs harshly. “There hasn't been a healer capable of that kind of stuff in Fandelose since the Fall! At least, not that I know of.” “Like you know every cleric in town.” “I think everyone would know if anyone could perform that kind of magic. For all I know, powerful magic has been lost with the Fall.” “This is weird,” says Dzedz. He's looting the bodies of the goblins, which yield a few meager copper and silver coins. (At least it's real money and not those damned fake coins the city is using now.) “Look at this.” The other two walk over to where the dwarf has knelt down. He is holding the mouth of one of the corpses open. The goblin's tongue is white and fuzzy, covered in some kind of fungus. “Ew,” says Hungus. “Madness!” crows Mad Max. He pulls out his maul. “Stand back!” “Wait a minute-” Dzedz starts, then leaps back out of the way as Mad Max brings his maul down, smashing the head. “Hold on!” the dwarf barks. “We might be able to learn something here!” “Learn something? Like what? They're goblins.” “Even so.” Carl Hungus leans in and murmurs, “Humor him. He did just suffer a... catastrophic loss.” *** August afternoon slowly transforms into August evening. The oppressive heat subsides somewhat, but remains enervating. The hillsides to the west begin to fall into shadow. “Up there.” Hungus points at a nearby hill with a wide, flat top dotted with large boulders. “There's great cover and a great view of potential victims on the way to Red Bank. Or so I hear.” The three of them ascend, moving with care. The single bandit on guard is half-asleep, and before he knows what has happened, he is unconscious and bleeding on the ground. The party creeps to the edge of the small camp at the top of the hill. There are three bandits around a fire, talking in low tones and passing a skin of wine back and forth. They don't know what's happening. In only a moment, two of them are dead, and the final one throws down his weapons, crying, “I surrender! Don't hurt me!” Carl Hungus steps to the fore. “Are you guys working with the Hacker?” “No.” Hungus shifts his grip on his maul. “Do you know anything about him?” “I- I heard a rumor about where he's camped, but I don't know if it's true.” “Why don't you just tell me, and let me decide what to think.” “Bandit's Rook. I heard he's at Bandit's Rook.” “Hmmm.” “You know where that is, Hungus?” asks Dzedz. “Yeah. It's a little further north.” “I want to go back to the city first. I want to see if I can get my injury repaired somehow.” Hungus looks dubious. “We can try.” “Damn right, we're going to try.” Dzedz grits his teeth. “I might even have to go on a quest.” “As for you...” Hungus glares at the prisoner. “I helped you! I told you what I know!” “What's your name?” “Benthum.” “All right, Benthum,” Hungus declares, beaming. “You're now my slave.” “Here,” Mad Max says, and gives Benthum a mark. The new-made slave stares at it dumbly. A mark is not an insignificant amount of money. Staring at Mad Max, Hungus says, “I'm not sure you get how this slave thing works.” [/QUOTE]
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