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"Second Son of a Second Son" - An Aquerra Story Hour (*finally* Updated 04/19)
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<blockquote data-quote="el-remmen" data-source="post: 4698100" data-attributes="member: 11"><p><strong>InterSession #31.1 – "The Raymer Blood" (part 1 of 1)</strong> [sup]1[/sup]</p><p></p><p>The sun felt so close; it cast a shadow that covered the colorless landscape Markos found himself in. He stood at the prow of a barge, pushed and dragged by dozens of goblins, all in various states of death. At the front an ogre pulled a chain attached to the prow, one of its legs wobbly where a huge gash cut down to the bone. The wound was crusted over, and the bone looked like it should tear loose with each step. The wood of the hull protested as it was dragged across the gray earth, driving up a cloud of fine noxious dust that burned Markos’s lungs and obscured his vision. Was that a set of black gates in a tall stone wall off in the distance? All he could tell was that this was a land of gray and black craggy hills, dotted with white wavering trees. There was something unnerving about them.</p><p></p><p>Markos turned and saw the only other person on the barge was at the till at the stern. But no, wait… he was suddenly at the stern, too. The scene the ship departed from seemed identical to the one it approached. </p><p></p><p>“What are those trees?” Markos asked the figure. It was Laarus. The young priest of Ra was dressed in white, a gold ankh about his neck, and ashes smeared over his eyes.</p><p></p><p>“They are not trees,” his voice seemed distant, like it emerged from deep down in his body. His lips did not move. “They are the spirits of the dead, rooted to their spot, waiting…”</p><p></p><p>“Waiting for what?” Markos felt distant from his own voice, as if whatever sense of himself he had were somehow lodged more deeply into his body than his vocal cords were. Everything seemed to be framed in darkness, as if observed from within a cave or tunnel.</p><p></p><p>“To be claimed, to not be claimed… One day you shall wait as they do…” Laarus intoned.</p><p></p><p>“Even dead, you’re an asshôle…”</p><p></p><p>“Listen to me Markos… There was more to that vision…[sup]2[/sup] More that I had not seen in life, but I have seen it now and I want to show it to you… You have your mother’s blood… There is much you could see and learn and if you let go your arcane obsession…”</p><p></p><p>“Are you going to show me or lecture me?”</p><p></p><p>“Give me your hand…” Laarus reached out and took his hand, and then his very essence billowed out into a translucent spirit and was sucked into Markos’s body, and suddenly he was in a dark place… A den lit by a hearth…Rain battered the shutters:</p><p></p><p>“<em>This is what I would like you to deliver.” The voice was <a href="http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Lavinia+Vanderboren" target="_blank">Lavinia’s</a>, but as his vision rose up from her tall elegant boots to her lavender velvet dress, instead of the soft skin of her décolletage, there was the head of a tigress. Her hand rested atop a wooden box about six inches to a side. The side of the box began to burn away revealing some kind of orange sphere beneath.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>“You are not, Lavinia,” Markos heard himself say, except it is not his voice that issued from his body.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>“No, I am not…”</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>“Stanislaw Torn,” He said and turned to see himself in the mirror above the mantleplace. He was wearing mauve watch-mage robes, but had the head of a bat, the body of a woman.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>“Yes,” Lavinia said. “And trade it for the sword of Sylaire and beware the Whistling Gold…”</em></p><p></p><p></p><p>All went black and Markos awakened…</p><p></p><p></p><p><strong>End of InterSession #31.1</strong></p><p></p><p>--------------------------------------------------</p><p><strong>Notes:</strong></p><p></p><p>[sup]1[/sup] This was actually given to Markos’s player as a handout immediately before Session #32 began.</p><p></p><p>[sup]2[/sup] Laarus is referring to a vision he had in Session #30.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="el-remmen, post: 4698100, member: 11"] [b]InterSession #31.1 – "The Raymer Blood" (part 1 of 1)[/b] [sup]1[/sup] The sun felt so close; it cast a shadow that covered the colorless landscape Markos found himself in. He stood at the prow of a barge, pushed and dragged by dozens of goblins, all in various states of death. At the front an ogre pulled a chain attached to the prow, one of its legs wobbly where a huge gash cut down to the bone. The wound was crusted over, and the bone looked like it should tear loose with each step. The wood of the hull protested as it was dragged across the gray earth, driving up a cloud of fine noxious dust that burned Markos’s lungs and obscured his vision. Was that a set of black gates in a tall stone wall off in the distance? All he could tell was that this was a land of gray and black craggy hills, dotted with white wavering trees. There was something unnerving about them. Markos turned and saw the only other person on the barge was at the till at the stern. But no, wait… he was suddenly at the stern, too. The scene the ship departed from seemed identical to the one it approached. “What are those trees?” Markos asked the figure. It was Laarus. The young priest of Ra was dressed in white, a gold ankh about his neck, and ashes smeared over his eyes. “They are not trees,” his voice seemed distant, like it emerged from deep down in his body. His lips did not move. “They are the spirits of the dead, rooted to their spot, waiting…” “Waiting for what?” Markos felt distant from his own voice, as if whatever sense of himself he had were somehow lodged more deeply into his body than his vocal cords were. Everything seemed to be framed in darkness, as if observed from within a cave or tunnel. “To be claimed, to not be claimed… One day you shall wait as they do…” Laarus intoned. “Even dead, you’re an asshôle…” “Listen to me Markos… There was more to that vision…[sup]2[/sup] More that I had not seen in life, but I have seen it now and I want to show it to you… You have your mother’s blood… There is much you could see and learn and if you let go your arcane obsession…” “Are you going to show me or lecture me?” “Give me your hand…” Laarus reached out and took his hand, and then his very essence billowed out into a translucent spirit and was sucked into Markos’s body, and suddenly he was in a dark place… A den lit by a hearth…Rain battered the shutters: “[i]This is what I would like you to deliver.” The voice was [url=http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Lavinia+Vanderboren]Lavinia’s[/url], but as his vision rose up from her tall elegant boots to her lavender velvet dress, instead of the soft skin of her décolletage, there was the head of a tigress. Her hand rested atop a wooden box about six inches to a side. The side of the box began to burn away revealing some kind of orange sphere beneath. “You are not, Lavinia,” Markos heard himself say, except it is not his voice that issued from his body. “No, I am not…” “Stanislaw Torn,” He said and turned to see himself in the mirror above the mantleplace. He was wearing mauve watch-mage robes, but had the head of a bat, the body of a woman. “Yes,” Lavinia said. “And trade it for the sword of Sylaire and beware the Whistling Gold…”[/i] All went black and Markos awakened… [b]End of InterSession #31.1[/b] -------------------------------------------------- [b]Notes:[/b] [sup]1[/sup] This was actually given to Markos’s player as a handout immediately before Session #32 began. [sup]2[/sup] Laarus is referring to a vision he had in Session #30. [/QUOTE]
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"Second Son of a Second Son" - An Aquerra Story Hour (*finally* Updated 04/19)
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