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In the Valus - The Heroes of Marchford (Chapter 14 Continues - 12/24/08)
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<blockquote data-quote="Funeris" data-source="post: 1822294" data-attributes="member: 22792"><p><strong>Chapter 4 Cont'd : No Love for strange help</strong></p><p></p><p>Just so everybody knows, Magnus cajoled and taunted me into an update before our game tonight. So, thank him <img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite1" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":)" /></p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>Chapter 4 Continued and Concluded:</p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">When the Heroes topped the last hill before the decline into Dun Beric, they could see a group of soldiers guarding the gates and a set of workers repairing damage. Briefly they began to discuss the perks of leaving Motega and Calyx outside, when they were spotted and a guard ran through the gate to signal their approach. An earnest sigh on all of their lips, they descended the hill toward Dun Beric.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">As they approached, a noble, obvious due to his clothing and his sneer, trotted out of the gate on his faithful, fat steed. The remaining guards moved to position around the old, obese horse creating a wall of flesh between the Heroes and the courtyard. The noble shifted slightly, aiming his richer-than-thou sneer more precisely at the group.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“ ‘Ello ‘Ello. What have we here?” His hawk eyes peered at each of the Heroes for moments, trying to size up a possible threat. “I assume you wish to gain entrance to the castle of Dun Beric?”</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">Fitz stepped toward the noble. “Yes, we bring news for the Duke.”</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“Ha! I’m sure you do. But, the Duke has no time for your,” his sneer increased in the pause, “band of men and I think, I think that’s a woman. Obviously not from around here, are you lass?” Lurid thoughts bounced around behind his dark eyes. “At any rate, you three,” he gestured to everyone except Motega and Calyx, “may enter. If your friends want to join you in the safety of our castle, they will each have to pay a toll.”</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“And, um,” Fitz answered, “how much would this toll be?”</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“A day’s rations of food for entrance. Now, good day.” The noble kicked the horse in the sides, and pulled the reigns to turn the slow beast around. Then he trotted back through the gates.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">After the toll was paid, the party moved into the courtyard of the castle. Debris from the attack littered the yard, but was little in comparison to the wounded soldiers that lie on makeshift cots. Fitz headed directly to the soldiers and the rest of the group began questioning guards for any way of seeing the Duke.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">The questioning proved fruitless, so the party headed toward the temporary hospital ward where Fitz had been left to his own devices. A crowd had gathered around the cots, and the crowd was murmuring in awe. The party had to fight their way through to the front, to see what the commotion was about.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">Fitz was going from cot to cot, laying his hands upon the brows of the wounded soldiers. He was using Ceria’s power to heal those closest to death. He neared a cot, whereupon a boy, maybe a year shy of Funeris’ age, lied in the grip of death, his leather armor bloody and rancid with stink. As Fitz placed his hand on the child’s brow and murmured to Ceria asking for her healing caress, the boy jerked upright. A cold breath issuing from his lips as he began to weep. The crowd cheered.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">The crowd cheered until a noble thundered up on his horse, parting the spectators. “Get back to work!” he ordered. Although his horse was more able then the previous, his sneer seemed all the larger for it. The crowd dispersed, leaving the Heroes, the noble and a few of his guards. </span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“You’re the group that claims to need an audience with the duke, right?” His glare alone could have made babies cry.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">Fitz again took the role of diplomat, saying, ”Yes we are. We bring a message from the Mayor of Marchford, Sir Eddam. We also have information about another possible attack. Could we have our audience?”</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“No. The Duke is far to busy planning strategies now to deal with the likes of <strong>you</strong>. However, anything you can say to him, you can say to me. I’ll give him the information.”</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“And you are?” Funeris questioned defiantly.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“I am Sir Gathil, and you will address me as such while in my home. I am an advisor to the Duke. Now spit out your information.” Fitz was slightly distraught with the noble’s rudeness but continued on anyway. Funeris just gritted his teeth.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“Sir Eddam wants to know what you would have his men at Marchford do in preparation for the possible war.”</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“Tell him we don’t have time to worry about a little sh*thole of a town. No, scratch that. We have our own problems. Tell him to deal with his. And what of your other information?”</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">Fitz sighed before continuing. “There is a group of creatures, Scorpiots, from the underdark that have infiltrated Castle Llyndofare. If the dwem are attacking, they may be aiding each other.”</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“Oh, so you bring us theories?” Sir Gathil harrumphed. “We don’t have time for theories, we’re at war. And we don’t have time for you spreading the gospel of your goddess.” He tossed a tiny sack of coin at Fitz, hitting him square in the chest. “There is your payment for your healing abilities. Now, remove yourself from <strong>MY </strong>castle.” </span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">Fitz bent to pick up the sack of coin, feeling a bit like a whore. The last young man he had helped grabbed his sleeve. “Sir, thank you. If ever you or your friends need a place to stay, my father owns a farm just south of town. I would be honored if I could entertain you as guests.”</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“I’m sorry, what is your name.”</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“I am Greffan the younger.” As the youth finished the sentence, the noble grabbed Fitz by the shoulder and shoved him toward the gates. The noble gave him a good, hearty kick in the arse and the guards erupted in laughter. Fitz steadied himself and fought off a tear of indignation while the Heroes exited Dun Beric. Once they were out of the castle, portcullis slammed down, denying any strangers entry.</span></span></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Funeris, post: 1822294, member: 22792"] [b]Chapter 4 Cont'd : No Love for strange help[/b] Just so everybody knows, Magnus cajoled and taunted me into an update before our game tonight. So, thank him :) *** Chapter 4 Continued and Concluded: [font=Times New Roman][size=3]When the Heroes topped the last hill before the decline into Dun Beric, they could see a group of soldiers guarding the gates and a set of workers repairing damage. Briefly they began to discuss the perks of leaving Motega and Calyx outside, when they were spotted and a guard ran through the gate to signal their approach. An earnest sigh on all of their lips, they descended the hill toward Dun Beric.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]As they approached, a noble, obvious due to his clothing and his sneer, trotted out of the gate on his faithful, fat steed. The remaining guards moved to position around the old, obese horse creating a wall of flesh between the Heroes and the courtyard. The noble shifted slightly, aiming his richer-than-thou sneer more precisely at the group.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“ ‘Ello ‘Ello. What have we here?” His hawk eyes peered at each of the Heroes for moments, trying to size up a possible threat. “I assume you wish to gain entrance to the castle of Dun Beric?”[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]Fitz stepped toward the noble. “Yes, we bring news for the Duke.”[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“Ha! I’m sure you do. But, the Duke has no time for your,” his sneer increased in the pause, “band of men and I think, I think that’s a woman. Obviously not from around here, are you lass?” Lurid thoughts bounced around behind his dark eyes. “At any rate, you three,” he gestured to everyone except Motega and Calyx, “may enter. If your friends want to join you in the safety of our castle, they will each have to pay a toll.”[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“And, um,” Fitz answered, “how much would this toll be?”[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“A day’s rations of food for entrance. Now, good day.” The noble kicked the horse in the sides, and pulled the reigns to turn the slow beast around. Then he trotted back through the gates.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]After the toll was paid, the party moved into the courtyard of the castle. Debris from the attack littered the yard, but was little in comparison to the wounded soldiers that lie on makeshift cots. Fitz headed directly to the soldiers and the rest of the group began questioning guards for any way of seeing the Duke.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]The questioning proved fruitless, so the party headed toward the temporary hospital ward where Fitz had been left to his own devices. A crowd had gathered around the cots, and the crowd was murmuring in awe. The party had to fight their way through to the front, to see what the commotion was about.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]Fitz was going from cot to cot, laying his hands upon the brows of the wounded soldiers. He was using Ceria’s power to heal those closest to death. He neared a cot, whereupon a boy, maybe a year shy of Funeris’ age, lied in the grip of death, his leather armor bloody and rancid with stink. As Fitz placed his hand on the child’s brow and murmured to Ceria asking for her healing caress, the boy jerked upright. A cold breath issuing from his lips as he began to weep. The crowd cheered.[/size][/font] [size=3][font=Times New Roman]The crowd cheered until a noble thundered up on his horse, parting the spectators. “Get back to work!” he ordered. Although his horse was more able then the previous, his sneer seemed all the larger for it. The crowd dispersed, leaving the Heroes, the noble and a few of his guards. [/font][/size] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“You’re the group that claims to need an audience with the duke, right?” His glare alone could have made babies cry.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]Fitz again took the role of diplomat, saying, ”Yes we are. We bring a message from the Mayor of Marchford, Sir Eddam. We also have information about another possible attack. Could we have our audience?”[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“No. The Duke is far to busy planning strategies now to deal with the likes of [b]you[/b]. However, anything you can say to him, you can say to me. I’ll give him the information.”[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“And you are?” Funeris questioned defiantly.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“I am Sir Gathil, and you will address me as such while in my home. I am an advisor to the Duke. Now spit out your information.” Fitz was slightly distraught with the noble’s rudeness but continued on anyway. Funeris just gritted his teeth.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“Sir Eddam wants to know what you would have his men at Marchford do in preparation for the possible war.”[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“Tell him we don’t have time to worry about a little sh*thole of a town. No, scratch that. We have our own problems. Tell him to deal with his. And what of your other information?”[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]Fitz sighed before continuing. “There is a group of creatures, Scorpiots, from the underdark that have infiltrated Castle Llyndofare. If the dwem are attacking, they may be aiding each other.”[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“Oh, so you bring us theories?” Sir Gathil harrumphed. “We don’t have time for theories, we’re at war. And we don’t have time for you spreading the gospel of your goddess.” He tossed a tiny sack of coin at Fitz, hitting him square in the chest. “There is your payment for your healing abilities. Now, remove yourself from [b]MY [/b]castle.” [/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]Fitz bent to pick up the sack of coin, feeling a bit like a whore. The last young man he had helped grabbed his sleeve. “Sir, thank you. If ever you or your friends need a place to stay, my father owns a farm just south of town. I would be honored if I could entertain you as guests.”[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“I’m sorry, what is your name.”[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“I am Greffan the younger.” As the youth finished the sentence, the noble grabbed Fitz by the shoulder and shoved him toward the gates. The noble gave him a good, hearty kick in the arse and the guards erupted in laughter. Fitz steadied himself and fought off a tear of indignation while the Heroes exited Dun Beric. Once they were out of the castle, portcullis slammed down, denying any strangers entry.[/size][/font] [/QUOTE]
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