hobbit_killer
First Post
TheYeti1775 said:Like he could replace Tobias. humpf Nothing but a Gordian Mercanary.
So sayth Magnus.
Yeti
Yeah, being an aquatic song bird is a useful skill.
In the Valus - The Heroes of Marchford (Chapter 14 Continues - 12/24/08)
Yeah, being an aquatic song bird is a useful skill.
Funeris
First Post
Chapter 13: Family, Responsibility, and Voyage (Continued)
Motega glowered as the wind shifted. The priest, Fitz, was suppressed. His stench, the bane of all clerics for one week a month and one month every year, was a fetid rotting scent. His sensitive nose could not take that punishment.
With his eyes watering, he turned away in the middle of the talk.
Fitz paused and bowed his head. “Er, sorry,” he muttered as he circled downwind of the Rornman.
“As I was saying, I don’t think Tobias should have stayed behind.”
“It was his decision.”
“I don’t disagree. But I worry about our righteous friend.”
“He can handle himself.”
“Not if the Culites attack in full force.”
Motega savored the fantasy of the glorious battle that could occur. In his mind’s eye, Tobias was hurtling into the fray, greatsword cleaving to and fro. Bodies dropped. “It would be a righteous death. He knows the risks.”
“Calyx, Raven, Nimrodel, and Ember,” sighed Fitz.
“You have a long memory,” the Rornman stated. “We do not know their fates. Perhaps, when this trek to Carnelloe is done, we can find out.”
“Carnelloe is far away from our original path.”
“Dammit priest!” Motega pulled out the flask and took a long draw. “You’re the voice of reason, especially now that Tobias has left. If you had concerns, you should’ve voiced ‘em back in Minetown.” The Rorn grumbled as the wind shifted again. His eyes watered as he cursed, “And could you stand downwind? Please?!”
Fitz moved to comply.
The Rorn filled his mouth with the fiery fluid twice more before replacing the flask. “These Carnelloe events may be tied to Minetown.”
“The Harpies?”
“I doubt such a creature would kidnap a Baronet. That doesn’t mean they’re not working with someone. They could be called upon to serve, just as you call your celestial eagles.”
“I think we would have sensed that magic, had it been used.”
“Magic isn’t perfect. Anyway, we could use a break from those damned Culites.” Fitz smiled and nodded.
“Thanks, Mo.”
The Rornman grunted and stalked away from the priest’s stench.
“Whi’ one are you ‘gain?” The deep, slow voice questioned.
Magnus shuddered. He leaned closer to the parchment, scribbling the arcane writing.
“Whi’ one are you ‘gain?!” The voice bellowed, as if Magnus were deaf, as a gigantic, meaty hand clapped down onto the mage’s shoulder.
Magnus grimaced as the perfect symbol was marred. His hand jerked in annoyance, ruining the scroll, ruining the time he had spent. His mind roared in rage. His face flushed. He threw down the parchment and stood up but was still dwarfed by the Gordian. With vehemence he jabbed the quill at the brute. “Look here, you stupid f*cker! I’ve work to do and I don’t need some retarded, inbred, foreigner ruining this trip for me!” The mage poked the quill at the mercenary, who did not move.
The quill snapped. The mage twitched.
“Huh?” The brute questioned.
“GAH!” The mage bellowed as he threw down the quill. He snatched his haversack, haphazardly jamming his materials into it. Without a glance back at the Gordian, Magnus stormed away from his seat and toward the stairs leading below deck.
The Gordian watched the mage storm off and chuckled. He haughtily strode to his brother and clapped him on the back. “Told you I could f*ck with ‘em.” He held his hand out with a beaming grin.
The other brute sighed and handed over a small purse of coin and a half-filled bottle of wine. “Stupid mages,” he grunted.
Magnus threw the door of the small room open. It swung rapidly, clattering off the wall and bouncing back at the mage. It pounded into his side; in his rage, he ignored the shock and stepped forward.
He nearly fell back as a wave of stench billowed into his face. Magnus gagged. On a stray bed along the wall of the room, another of the foreign brutes passed wind. Magnus gagged a second time.
The hulking form, larger than even the ones above deck, rolled over. The mage shuddered as a sickle flew from the drunk brute’s sleeping hand. The metal arched over and over before embedding itself up to the hilt in the opposite wall.
Magnus twitched. He spun, shaking, and ripped the door open again. Quickly, he stepped through the door, not bothering to gently close the door. It clattered against the hinge.
Inside the room, the drunk brute chortled.
Motega glowered as the wind shifted. The priest, Fitz, was suppressed. His stench, the bane of all clerics for one week a month and one month every year, was a fetid rotting scent. His sensitive nose could not take that punishment.
With his eyes watering, he turned away in the middle of the talk.
Fitz paused and bowed his head. “Er, sorry,” he muttered as he circled downwind of the Rornman.
“As I was saying, I don’t think Tobias should have stayed behind.”
“It was his decision.”
“I don’t disagree. But I worry about our righteous friend.”
“He can handle himself.”
“Not if the Culites attack in full force.”
Motega savored the fantasy of the glorious battle that could occur. In his mind’s eye, Tobias was hurtling into the fray, greatsword cleaving to and fro. Bodies dropped. “It would be a righteous death. He knows the risks.”
“Calyx, Raven, Nimrodel, and Ember,” sighed Fitz.
“You have a long memory,” the Rornman stated. “We do not know their fates. Perhaps, when this trek to Carnelloe is done, we can find out.”
“Carnelloe is far away from our original path.”
“Dammit priest!” Motega pulled out the flask and took a long draw. “You’re the voice of reason, especially now that Tobias has left. If you had concerns, you should’ve voiced ‘em back in Minetown.” The Rorn grumbled as the wind shifted again. His eyes watered as he cursed, “And could you stand downwind? Please?!”
Fitz moved to comply.
The Rorn filled his mouth with the fiery fluid twice more before replacing the flask. “These Carnelloe events may be tied to Minetown.”
“The Harpies?”
“I doubt such a creature would kidnap a Baronet. That doesn’t mean they’re not working with someone. They could be called upon to serve, just as you call your celestial eagles.”
“I think we would have sensed that magic, had it been used.”
“Magic isn’t perfect. Anyway, we could use a break from those damned Culites.” Fitz smiled and nodded.
“Thanks, Mo.”
The Rornman grunted and stalked away from the priest’s stench.
* * *
“Whi’ one are you ‘gain?” The deep, slow voice questioned.
Magnus shuddered. He leaned closer to the parchment, scribbling the arcane writing.
“Whi’ one are you ‘gain?!” The voice bellowed, as if Magnus were deaf, as a gigantic, meaty hand clapped down onto the mage’s shoulder.
Magnus grimaced as the perfect symbol was marred. His hand jerked in annoyance, ruining the scroll, ruining the time he had spent. His mind roared in rage. His face flushed. He threw down the parchment and stood up but was still dwarfed by the Gordian. With vehemence he jabbed the quill at the brute. “Look here, you stupid f*cker! I’ve work to do and I don’t need some retarded, inbred, foreigner ruining this trip for me!” The mage poked the quill at the mercenary, who did not move.
The quill snapped. The mage twitched.
“Huh?” The brute questioned.
“GAH!” The mage bellowed as he threw down the quill. He snatched his haversack, haphazardly jamming his materials into it. Without a glance back at the Gordian, Magnus stormed away from his seat and toward the stairs leading below deck.
The Gordian watched the mage storm off and chuckled. He haughtily strode to his brother and clapped him on the back. “Told you I could f*ck with ‘em.” He held his hand out with a beaming grin.
The other brute sighed and handed over a small purse of coin and a half-filled bottle of wine. “Stupid mages,” he grunted.
* * *
Magnus threw the door of the small room open. It swung rapidly, clattering off the wall and bouncing back at the mage. It pounded into his side; in his rage, he ignored the shock and stepped forward.
He nearly fell back as a wave of stench billowed into his face. Magnus gagged. On a stray bed along the wall of the room, another of the foreign brutes passed wind. Magnus gagged a second time.
The hulking form, larger than even the ones above deck, rolled over. The mage shuddered as a sickle flew from the drunk brute’s sleeping hand. The metal arched over and over before embedding itself up to the hilt in the opposite wall.
Magnus twitched. He spun, shaking, and ripped the door open again. Quickly, he stepped through the door, not bothering to gently close the door. It clattered against the hinge.
Inside the room, the drunk brute chortled.
Funeris
First Post
Fimmtiu said:
Hi Fimmtiu!
In the Valus, the Gods are at war. There are weeks where a God is in power. Each God also has a month where it is ascendant over the other Gods.
When a God is ascendant, its clerics have special abilities. For example, when in the cave (post major Minetown Battle, pre Motega's death Battle) Fitz had his little whirlwind ability to clear the fog. That was an ascendant power granted by Ceria.
When a God is suppressed (its opposed deity is ascendant), clerics take on other quirks. For Fitz, this included a horrible reek that made everyone want to gag.
Its just one of the awesome little details of the Valus.
Thanks for reading,
~Fune
TheYeti1775
Adventurer
D@mn Goridans.
Yes Fitz was our 'stinking' priest once a month.
Many jokes were made about this cycle at our manly group.
Magnus wasn't too happy on the boat ride if you can't tell.
What was it a 3 or a 6 day boat ride? I know it wasn't too bad
real time, even with that gleam in Destan's eyes. I'm quite sure
our little innocent mage had irked him enough by this time.
Yeti
Yes Fitz was our 'stinking' priest once a month.
Many jokes were made about this cycle at our manly group.
Magnus wasn't too happy on the boat ride if you can't tell.
What was it a 3 or a 6 day boat ride? I know it wasn't too bad
real time, even with that gleam in Destan's eyes. I'm quite sure
our little innocent mage had irked him enough by this time.
Yeti
TheYeti1775
Adventurer
Now where is that Gordian loving whiskey swilling SOB at. Haven't heard from him all day.
Yeti
Haven't heard from him all day.Yeti
Funeris
First Post
Chapter 13: Family, Responsibility, and Voyage (Concluded)
On the evening of the second day, two impressive citadels rose high into the east and west. The Anvil and the Hammer overshadowed Raider’s Bay and the dozens of trade and war ships that drifted upon the fierce blue sea.
The largest of the Gordians had climbed from the straw bunk as the sun began to set. Merrily, he had joined the Heroes upon the deck. All except for the mage delighted in his tales of the surrounding lands. Magnus cloistered against the rail, preferring the sanctity of his mind over the company of the others and especially the foreigners.
The third day dawned cooler. The ship angled itself east toward a rocky pinnacle. On the top of a crag, a squat ugly stone fortress seemed to glower at the ship. A number of homes and a stone castle were cluttered on the shore, within the keep’s shadow.
The large Gordian gestured toward the village. “Carnelloe.”
Motega squinted. Fitz grunted. Magnus shuddered and suddenly doubted whether Lady Carnelloe had enough coins to purchase his services.
The village of Carnelloe appeared destitute.
"Sirs,” the Lady spoke into the cool morning, “Thank you again for answering us in our time of need. Do not be alarmed. Our treasury is larger than what it may appear. I believe it is time we discussed your requested payment." She glanced at the mage, a glimmer of nervousness in her eyes.
Motega instantly filled the awkward silence with his hoarse Rorn accent. "You can deal with the mage concerning our fee, lady. He handles all of our finances. Magnus, be fair, but don't sell us out like a toothless tavern wench." The Rorn watched the largest of the Gordians move over to a spot halfway between the Lady and halfway between the Heroes.
“Who are you?” the Rorn accused. “Why did we not meet you in Minetown and why do you speak to us when the others of your breeding do not?”
"I speak to you because I will be working with you, Rornman. The Lady has hired me for assistance. Just as she has you. And as for not seeing me in Minetown, I was not in Minetown. Not once did I step foot off the boat even though those bastards were tormenting me." He gulped a long swallow from one of the ship’s bottles of wine. As it drains into his stomach, he hurled the empty bottle into the bay.
"You can call me Drake. It is the closest any Valusian has ever come to pronouncing my name." The Gordian sticks his hands deep into the gigantic cloak of bear fur on his back. He leaned toward Motega.
"Don't worry Rornman," he whispered, "I always have more." Another bottle appeared in the man's long hands.
With a grunt, Drake added, “I have looked forward to fighting beside your clan. Tales have gone northward of your battles. I yearn for the fights you have had. So, let us not start out on the wrong foot, eh?" He passed the open bottle toward Motega. "Let us discuss our fees...and then on with the killing."
Motega arched an eyebrow and took a long pull from the bottle before handing it back. He eyes the Gordian up and down, measuring him with his eyes, and grunted in a way that can't be determined as either approval or disapproval. The Rornman turned away to glance at the shore which was drawing ever more near.
"You have good drink, Gordian, and a fortuitous thing that you never run out. Let us hope you are half as good at fighting as you are at getting drunk. Perhaps we should say farewell to your tormenters before we embark on this venture together?"
"Nah,” Drake grunted with a grin, “They were just teasing me because I was the runt of the litter."
Magnus’ eyes widened. With a cough, and a glance from the town to the Lady, the mage spoke, "No treasury is too large, but we are here at your behest. I would ask of you some questions, it will affect our fee.”
"First, you are Gordian by birth correct? That would make your husband a Rhelmsman by the nature of his nobility. We would need to know how his death affects you past the losing of a husband and father of your children. Would you be forced out of these lands by another 'Noble' Rhelmsman? One perhaps favorable to the King?
"I only ask this because, if it is too late for your husband, then by default the 'King's Men' could lay claim to all of your lands and monies, because you do not have a male heir."
Lady Carnelloe screwed her face up in shock. "I am no Gordian!” She paused, her chest heaving as she wrestled with her emotion. “It has been six months since my husband departed our keep for the old ruins known as Gurnag's Head." She pointed to the dilapidated rocky citadel atop the crag sitting a few hundred yards off of Carnelloe's docks.
"For years our townsfolk have been troubled by harpies that seem to nest within those old ruins. For the most part, the harpies contented themselves to stealing cattle. About seven months ago, however, a small peasant child was spirited away and doubtless eaten. My husband felt it was his duty to protect his people, so he led an expedition into the Head. He never returned, nor did any of the men he took with him. One of those lost men was our court wizard, so we have none now. Our limited spellcasting ability comes from Dekk, the man wearing the fur robes you have already seen, and the Righter Mardred, our town's resident Priest of Morduk. Dekk is a Carrik wizard; I pay him for his continued service.
"My husband is dead. Father Mardred divined the answer. We sent word to King Tyne, but received no response. Until I am told otherwise, I rule Carnelloe. My two daughters are too young to marry, but within a few years we shall hope to find suitable, noble suitors. And then the rule of Carnelloe will pass unto them.
"I have three days, now, with which to find the key to my husband's lockbox. The strange visitor told me he would slay my children if this was not done. I am desperate, and all attempts at sorcery and divine assistance have met with failure. We cannot open the lockbox without the key. I have no idea as to its contents. The visitor has demanded both the lockbox and the key. I am prepared to turn them over to him if you should succeed on your mission. The key was on my husband's belt as he left for Gurnag's Head; I hope it is somewhere within the ruined keep. If it is not, I am without hope.
"Gurnag's Head is an old fortress once held by my husband's line. It was abandoned shortly after the Civil War ended. Its upkeep was too expensive for our meager means. I have told Drake, and I shall tell you, that anything you find within that citadel is yours to keep. I only ask for the key to the lockbox, and the corpses of my husband and his retainers - if such are found.
"I am prepared to pay you each two thousand crowns, in addition to whatever you find. This is a princely sum, I hope you understand, and I cannot afford to pay more. You shall receive the monies when the key is turned over to me, provided you do so within the three days that yet remains. Should one of you perish, his award will be divided amongst the survivors. I hate to speak so morbidly, but Gurnag's Head is not known for its tranquility. I have no doubt you will face many challenges therein.
"Another option for payment is for me to sign the deed to Gurnag's Head over to the survivors. As I do not believe any of you are of true noble blood, the keep and the crag it sits upon would have to be leased from the Carnelloe family. I would happily sign a lease to you for 99 years, the maximum allowed by Rhelm law. The King would need to approve such a deal, but it appears you have assisted the Crown and I hope such would not be a problem. The eight thousand crowns would instead be kept within Carnelloe and used to pay the lease. I believe a rate of 500 crowns monthly is fair, thus your monies would secure you the Head for at least 16 months.” She watched as Magnus’ eyes flitted to and fro in contemplation.
The mage cleared his throat and lifted his hand to hide his face from Drake. “You have hired this, ugh, gentlemen to accompany us.” Magnus looked at the seven-foot Gordian and shuddered. “Is his pay coming out of our fees?”
"Drake,” the Lady stated overly-loud, “Is to be paid an equal share as the rest of you. He has served our house capably over the past six months, and I feel confident his presence can only assist you on your quest."
Magnus grimaced as Drake’s hand clenched onto his shoulder like iron. “Never in the tales that came North did they describe your clan as so greedy. You must be that archmage…ugh, what’s your name again? Was it Magnum?” The large Gordian chortled.
“Lady, you know I need only a deposit of one thousand crowns. Additional funds will only be required if the work is difficult. And,” Drakt added as he bowed low, “the price is always negotiable for you and your beautiful daughters.”
“Heathen!” Magnus cursed. “Do not worry about your daughters,” he spit as he glared at Drake. “They will not have to suffer this filth. I will make sure they find good Rhelmsmen to court.”
"Lady,” Motega interjected, “As far as I am concerned, you offer a fair price and can keep your home. We will find this key. However, we shall open this box upon our return. I am not inclined to readily give up something someone took so much care in securing. Rest assured, we will also hunt down this 'hooded stranger' and ensure he threatens you and your daughters no more.”
The Lady nodded her thanks. Magnus was quick to hurl another question at the Lady, “Has anyone seen these harpies?”
“I have,” Drake grunted. “So have a number of other townsfolk. But I had one swoop down to attack a goatherd I was protecting.” He lifted a curved sickle that glimmered in the soft light. “It did not care for the feel of my blade. After I drew first blood,” the Gordian paused to spit, “It flew off.”
Magnus cringed when Lady Carnelloe nodded in agreement with Drake. “If there is nothing else, I will have a rowboat ready to take you to Gurnag’s Head.” She paused to allow some dissent but she received none. “Very well.”
Lady Carnelloe turned as a ramp was lowered from the ship to the dock. She was the first to stride from the ship and into the misty fog of the north.
[End Chapter]
----------------------------------------------
Meh. I've been around.
Nearly 2,000 words to finish up this chapter. What does that mean? Well...it means we've only got 1 or 2 chapters left. Scary...huh?
Now, I'm going to go on vacation on the 30th. I won't be writing (story hours, anyway) between now and when I return (the 8th-10th of July). And when I do return, I'll be updating my other SH. So, you can expect a somewhat lengthy break on this Story Hour.
I hope you've enjoyed the updates, though. And don't worry...the tension in the party is only bound to increase.
See ya next month.
~Fune
On the evening of the second day, two impressive citadels rose high into the east and west. The Anvil and the Hammer overshadowed Raider’s Bay and the dozens of trade and war ships that drifted upon the fierce blue sea.
The largest of the Gordians had climbed from the straw bunk as the sun began to set. Merrily, he had joined the Heroes upon the deck. All except for the mage delighted in his tales of the surrounding lands. Magnus cloistered against the rail, preferring the sanctity of his mind over the company of the others and especially the foreigners.
The third day dawned cooler. The ship angled itself east toward a rocky pinnacle. On the top of a crag, a squat ugly stone fortress seemed to glower at the ship. A number of homes and a stone castle were cluttered on the shore, within the keep’s shadow.
The large Gordian gestured toward the village. “Carnelloe.”
Motega squinted. Fitz grunted. Magnus shuddered and suddenly doubted whether Lady Carnelloe had enough coins to purchase his services.
The village of Carnelloe appeared destitute.
"Sirs,” the Lady spoke into the cool morning, “Thank you again for answering us in our time of need. Do not be alarmed. Our treasury is larger than what it may appear. I believe it is time we discussed your requested payment." She glanced at the mage, a glimmer of nervousness in her eyes.
Motega instantly filled the awkward silence with his hoarse Rorn accent. "You can deal with the mage concerning our fee, lady. He handles all of our finances. Magnus, be fair, but don't sell us out like a toothless tavern wench." The Rorn watched the largest of the Gordians move over to a spot halfway between the Lady and halfway between the Heroes.
“Who are you?” the Rorn accused. “Why did we not meet you in Minetown and why do you speak to us when the others of your breeding do not?”
"I speak to you because I will be working with you, Rornman. The Lady has hired me for assistance. Just as she has you. And as for not seeing me in Minetown, I was not in Minetown. Not once did I step foot off the boat even though those bastards were tormenting me." He gulped a long swallow from one of the ship’s bottles of wine. As it drains into his stomach, he hurled the empty bottle into the bay.
"You can call me Drake. It is the closest any Valusian has ever come to pronouncing my name." The Gordian sticks his hands deep into the gigantic cloak of bear fur on his back. He leaned toward Motega.
"Don't worry Rornman," he whispered, "I always have more." Another bottle appeared in the man's long hands.
With a grunt, Drake added, “I have looked forward to fighting beside your clan. Tales have gone northward of your battles. I yearn for the fights you have had. So, let us not start out on the wrong foot, eh?" He passed the open bottle toward Motega. "Let us discuss our fees...and then on with the killing."
Motega arched an eyebrow and took a long pull from the bottle before handing it back. He eyes the Gordian up and down, measuring him with his eyes, and grunted in a way that can't be determined as either approval or disapproval. The Rornman turned away to glance at the shore which was drawing ever more near.
"You have good drink, Gordian, and a fortuitous thing that you never run out. Let us hope you are half as good at fighting as you are at getting drunk. Perhaps we should say farewell to your tormenters before we embark on this venture together?"
"Nah,” Drake grunted with a grin, “They were just teasing me because I was the runt of the litter."
Magnus’ eyes widened. With a cough, and a glance from the town to the Lady, the mage spoke, "No treasury is too large, but we are here at your behest. I would ask of you some questions, it will affect our fee.”
"First, you are Gordian by birth correct? That would make your husband a Rhelmsman by the nature of his nobility. We would need to know how his death affects you past the losing of a husband and father of your children. Would you be forced out of these lands by another 'Noble' Rhelmsman? One perhaps favorable to the King?
"I only ask this because, if it is too late for your husband, then by default the 'King's Men' could lay claim to all of your lands and monies, because you do not have a male heir."
Lady Carnelloe screwed her face up in shock. "I am no Gordian!” She paused, her chest heaving as she wrestled with her emotion. “It has been six months since my husband departed our keep for the old ruins known as Gurnag's Head." She pointed to the dilapidated rocky citadel atop the crag sitting a few hundred yards off of Carnelloe's docks.
"For years our townsfolk have been troubled by harpies that seem to nest within those old ruins. For the most part, the harpies contented themselves to stealing cattle. About seven months ago, however, a small peasant child was spirited away and doubtless eaten. My husband felt it was his duty to protect his people, so he led an expedition into the Head. He never returned, nor did any of the men he took with him. One of those lost men was our court wizard, so we have none now. Our limited spellcasting ability comes from Dekk, the man wearing the fur robes you have already seen, and the Righter Mardred, our town's resident Priest of Morduk. Dekk is a Carrik wizard; I pay him for his continued service.
"My husband is dead. Father Mardred divined the answer. We sent word to King Tyne, but received no response. Until I am told otherwise, I rule Carnelloe. My two daughters are too young to marry, but within a few years we shall hope to find suitable, noble suitors. And then the rule of Carnelloe will pass unto them.
"I have three days, now, with which to find the key to my husband's lockbox. The strange visitor told me he would slay my children if this was not done. I am desperate, and all attempts at sorcery and divine assistance have met with failure. We cannot open the lockbox without the key. I have no idea as to its contents. The visitor has demanded both the lockbox and the key. I am prepared to turn them over to him if you should succeed on your mission. The key was on my husband's belt as he left for Gurnag's Head; I hope it is somewhere within the ruined keep. If it is not, I am without hope.
"Gurnag's Head is an old fortress once held by my husband's line. It was abandoned shortly after the Civil War ended. Its upkeep was too expensive for our meager means. I have told Drake, and I shall tell you, that anything you find within that citadel is yours to keep. I only ask for the key to the lockbox, and the corpses of my husband and his retainers - if such are found.
"I am prepared to pay you each two thousand crowns, in addition to whatever you find. This is a princely sum, I hope you understand, and I cannot afford to pay more. You shall receive the monies when the key is turned over to me, provided you do so within the three days that yet remains. Should one of you perish, his award will be divided amongst the survivors. I hate to speak so morbidly, but Gurnag's Head is not known for its tranquility. I have no doubt you will face many challenges therein.
"Another option for payment is for me to sign the deed to Gurnag's Head over to the survivors. As I do not believe any of you are of true noble blood, the keep and the crag it sits upon would have to be leased from the Carnelloe family. I would happily sign a lease to you for 99 years, the maximum allowed by Rhelm law. The King would need to approve such a deal, but it appears you have assisted the Crown and I hope such would not be a problem. The eight thousand crowns would instead be kept within Carnelloe and used to pay the lease. I believe a rate of 500 crowns monthly is fair, thus your monies would secure you the Head for at least 16 months.” She watched as Magnus’ eyes flitted to and fro in contemplation.
The mage cleared his throat and lifted his hand to hide his face from Drake. “You have hired this, ugh, gentlemen to accompany us.” Magnus looked at the seven-foot Gordian and shuddered. “Is his pay coming out of our fees?”
"Drake,” the Lady stated overly-loud, “Is to be paid an equal share as the rest of you. He has served our house capably over the past six months, and I feel confident his presence can only assist you on your quest."
Magnus grimaced as Drake’s hand clenched onto his shoulder like iron. “Never in the tales that came North did they describe your clan as so greedy. You must be that archmage…ugh, what’s your name again? Was it Magnum?” The large Gordian chortled.
“Lady, you know I need only a deposit of one thousand crowns. Additional funds will only be required if the work is difficult. And,” Drakt added as he bowed low, “the price is always negotiable for you and your beautiful daughters.”
“Heathen!” Magnus cursed. “Do not worry about your daughters,” he spit as he glared at Drake. “They will not have to suffer this filth. I will make sure they find good Rhelmsmen to court.”
"Lady,” Motega interjected, “As far as I am concerned, you offer a fair price and can keep your home. We will find this key. However, we shall open this box upon our return. I am not inclined to readily give up something someone took so much care in securing. Rest assured, we will also hunt down this 'hooded stranger' and ensure he threatens you and your daughters no more.”
The Lady nodded her thanks. Magnus was quick to hurl another question at the Lady, “Has anyone seen these harpies?”
“I have,” Drake grunted. “So have a number of other townsfolk. But I had one swoop down to attack a goatherd I was protecting.” He lifted a curved sickle that glimmered in the soft light. “It did not care for the feel of my blade. After I drew first blood,” the Gordian paused to spit, “It flew off.”
Magnus cringed when Lady Carnelloe nodded in agreement with Drake. “If there is nothing else, I will have a rowboat ready to take you to Gurnag’s Head.” She paused to allow some dissent but she received none. “Very well.”
Lady Carnelloe turned as a ramp was lowered from the ship to the dock. She was the first to stride from the ship and into the misty fog of the north.
[End Chapter]
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Meh. I've been around.
Nearly 2,000 words to finish up this chapter. What does that mean? Well...it means we've only got 1 or 2 chapters left. Scary...huh?
Now, I'm going to go on vacation on the 30th. I won't be writing (story hours, anyway) between now and when I return (the 8th-10th of July). And when I do return, I'll be updating my other SH. So, you can expect a somewhat lengthy break on this Story Hour.
I hope you've enjoyed the updates, though. And don't worry...the tension in the party is only bound to increase.
See ya next month.
~Fune
HalfOrc HalfBiscuit
Adventurer
Have a good break, Funeris. And I will look forward to you getting back to this story .. eventually.
TheYeti1775
Adventurer
I guess I can give you an insight to Magnus.
Motega is the only non-Rhelmsman Magnus had ever befriended.
Magnus considers himself a Patroit, loyal upmost to Rhelm. Destan was fine with the thought of that, and it slowly evolved into a need to put the interests of Rhelm first. Honestly if the Lady Carnelloe had not already offered a 'princely sum' before Drake's comment on the daughters, Magnus would have probably gone cheaply (nearly free).
Funeris didn't elaborate too much on the negoiations as they were, Magnus did handle the finances for the group. He was a pain in the @ss about it too. The questioning about the lineage question, was namely for seeing how helping her would affect Rhelm or their current standing with the Kingdom.
If I recall correctly what we had learned of Lady Carnelloe was she was of 'Gordian' descent, hence the Gordian Merc's helping her. The Carrick Wizard really turned Magnus off. (Brief Valus History lesson - Rhelm broke away from Carrick i.e. Rebel and gained freedom)
So now you have it, Magnus is the 'Extreme-Right-Wing' of Rhelm. His sanity always was in question as well, but his greed never was. I think what most saw as a monterary greed, never realized what it really was. A greed for a control and power. Now having lost his 'moral' compass (Tobias) and nearly losing a valued friend (Motega), he sees himself as not having the power to control life itself.
Yeti
Motega is the only non-Rhelmsman Magnus had ever befriended.
Magnus considers himself a Patroit, loyal upmost to Rhelm. Destan was fine with the thought of that, and it slowly evolved into a need to put the interests of Rhelm first. Honestly if the Lady Carnelloe had not already offered a 'princely sum' before Drake's comment on the daughters, Magnus would have probably gone cheaply (nearly free).
Funeris didn't elaborate too much on the negoiations as they were, Magnus did handle the finances for the group. He was a pain in the @ss about it too. The questioning about the lineage question, was namely for seeing how helping her would affect Rhelm or their current standing with the Kingdom.
If I recall correctly what we had learned of Lady Carnelloe was she was of 'Gordian' descent, hence the Gordian Merc's helping her. The Carrick Wizard really turned Magnus off. (Brief Valus History lesson - Rhelm broke away from Carrick i.e. Rebel and gained freedom)
So now you have it, Magnus is the 'Extreme-Right-Wing' of Rhelm. His sanity always was in question as well, but his greed never was. I think what most saw as a monterary greed, never realized what it really was. A greed for a control and power. Now having lost his 'moral' compass (Tobias) and nearly losing a valued friend (Motega), he sees himself as not having the power to control life itself.
Yeti
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