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Shackled City Epic: "Vengeance" (story concluded)
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<blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 974659" data-attributes="member: 143"><p>Chapter 4</p><p></p><p>“Are you all right?”</p><p></p><p>“I... I think so.”</p><p></p><p>The speaker was a young man, in his late teens, perhaps, his body lean and lanky. His hair hung in an unruly mess about his face, which was marred by a nasty bruise on his right temple that was already beginning to deepen in color. He wore a plain cotton robe that had been torn in the melee, and as he shifted, slowly and painfully pulling himself up to a kneeling position, Zenna was surprised to catch a glimpse of what looked like a chain shirt underneath. </p><p></p><p>“Oooh, they gave me quite a going-over,” the young man said, probing his side with slender fingers before gently touching at his bruised face. Wincing, he clasped his left hand to his throat, where Zenna noticed that some sort of amulet or device was hanging on a slender chain around his neck. The young man’s hand closed around it before she could identify it, but to her surprise a soft blue glow began to shine from beneath, through the gaps between his fingers. The young man’s face became focused, and his voice took on a resonant, deeper tone, as if echoing from the insides of a spacious temple. </p><p></p><p>“Vigilant Helm, share your mighty blessing with your unworthy servant...”</p><p></p><p>The result of the injured man’s words was immediately evident, as the blue glow flared briefly before <em>sinking</em> into his body, infusing him briefly before it faded. With a suddenness that surprised her, he got up quickly, his earlier discomfort gone utterly. </p><p></p><p>“A cleric... you’re a cleric,” Zenna said. </p><p></p><p>“Yes,” he said. “I’m sorry, I neglected to thank you for your help. My name is Ruphos Laro, acolyte of Helm. While I don’t think those toughs were planning on killing me, I’m sure they would have left me quite a bit more uncomfortable before they—what’s the matter?”</p><p></p><p>As he was speaking, Zenna, whose exhaustion and emotion had finally caught up with her, had sagged backward, only the wall of the alley keeping her from collapsing. She clutched at Mole with both her hands, trying to protect her friend, unable to keep a sob from slipping through her strained façade. </p><p></p><p><em>No, mustn’t be weak,</em> she berated herself. But her strength, already taxed beyond limit, had finally faltered. </p><p></p><p>The young man was beside her in an instant, a worried look on his face. Zenna slid down to the ground, her legs folding painfully under her, and her cloak parted to reveal her burden. </p><p></p><p>“What’s this? A child?” Ruphos exclaimed, carefully extracting Mole from Zenna’s arms to get a better look at the injured gnome. </p><p></p><p>“No... my... friend... bandits...” Zenna managed. Tears were beginning to slip down her cheeks, defeating her best efforts to bite them back. “I tried to help her, I had to get her here... You’re a cleric, had to find a cleric...”</p><p></p><p>“Shhh,” the young man said softly. “I will help her.” Once more he touched his amulet—his holy symbol—and called upon the power of his god, holding Mole gently with his other arm. Zenna watched with fascination—she’d seen this before, of course, had seen her stepmother use healing spells many times, but it was impossible to deny the wonder and beauty of divine magic being wrought, each time somehow new and unique. </p><p></p><p>And then it was done. Mole stirred, and her eyes opened, searching around her with that inquisitive manner that the gnome girl carried about her like a second skin. “What happened?”</p><p></p><p>“You were injured, but your friend was able to bring you safely to me,” the cleric said. He reached over and extended his hand to touch Zenna’s face, preparing to extend the benefit of his powers to her. But Zenna, worried that he might see... that he might see too much, drew back suddenly. The cleric started in surprise, but shifted his attention to helping Mole up to her feet. </p><p></p><p>“You’ve lost a great deal of blood, and you’ll likely be weak for a time,” Ruphos told her. “You—both of you, should come with me to the Temple of Helm. My brethren can help tend to your needs, and see that you find someplace safe and comfortable where you can rest and recover from your travails.”</p><p></p><p>Zenna, bracing against the wall, struggled back to her feet. It was clear that the gesture cost her no small amount of energy, but she put on a determined look as she looked down at the cleric, still kneeling in the dirt of the alley. </p><p></p><p>“Thank you for what you did for my friend,” she said. “But really, we should—”</p><p></p><p>“What she means to say, is thank you, of course we’ll accept your generous offer of hospitality,” Mole broke in. “We’ve only just arrived in the city, and we appreciate any help you can provide us.”</p><p></p><p>Ruphos glanced at them both, his gaze settling finally on Zenna, who—reluctantly, it was clear—nodded.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Lazybones, post: 974659, member: 143"] Chapter 4 “Are you all right?” “I... I think so.” The speaker was a young man, in his late teens, perhaps, his body lean and lanky. His hair hung in an unruly mess about his face, which was marred by a nasty bruise on his right temple that was already beginning to deepen in color. He wore a plain cotton robe that had been torn in the melee, and as he shifted, slowly and painfully pulling himself up to a kneeling position, Zenna was surprised to catch a glimpse of what looked like a chain shirt underneath. “Oooh, they gave me quite a going-over,” the young man said, probing his side with slender fingers before gently touching at his bruised face. Wincing, he clasped his left hand to his throat, where Zenna noticed that some sort of amulet or device was hanging on a slender chain around his neck. The young man’s hand closed around it before she could identify it, but to her surprise a soft blue glow began to shine from beneath, through the gaps between his fingers. The young man’s face became focused, and his voice took on a resonant, deeper tone, as if echoing from the insides of a spacious temple. “Vigilant Helm, share your mighty blessing with your unworthy servant...” The result of the injured man’s words was immediately evident, as the blue glow flared briefly before [I]sinking[/I] into his body, infusing him briefly before it faded. With a suddenness that surprised her, he got up quickly, his earlier discomfort gone utterly. “A cleric... you’re a cleric,” Zenna said. “Yes,” he said. “I’m sorry, I neglected to thank you for your help. My name is Ruphos Laro, acolyte of Helm. While I don’t think those toughs were planning on killing me, I’m sure they would have left me quite a bit more uncomfortable before they—what’s the matter?” As he was speaking, Zenna, whose exhaustion and emotion had finally caught up with her, had sagged backward, only the wall of the alley keeping her from collapsing. She clutched at Mole with both her hands, trying to protect her friend, unable to keep a sob from slipping through her strained façade. [I]No, mustn’t be weak,[/I] she berated herself. But her strength, already taxed beyond limit, had finally faltered. The young man was beside her in an instant, a worried look on his face. Zenna slid down to the ground, her legs folding painfully under her, and her cloak parted to reveal her burden. “What’s this? A child?” Ruphos exclaimed, carefully extracting Mole from Zenna’s arms to get a better look at the injured gnome. “No... my... friend... bandits...” Zenna managed. Tears were beginning to slip down her cheeks, defeating her best efforts to bite them back. “I tried to help her, I had to get her here... You’re a cleric, had to find a cleric...” “Shhh,” the young man said softly. “I will help her.” Once more he touched his amulet—his holy symbol—and called upon the power of his god, holding Mole gently with his other arm. Zenna watched with fascination—she’d seen this before, of course, had seen her stepmother use healing spells many times, but it was impossible to deny the wonder and beauty of divine magic being wrought, each time somehow new and unique. And then it was done. Mole stirred, and her eyes opened, searching around her with that inquisitive manner that the gnome girl carried about her like a second skin. “What happened?” “You were injured, but your friend was able to bring you safely to me,” the cleric said. He reached over and extended his hand to touch Zenna’s face, preparing to extend the benefit of his powers to her. But Zenna, worried that he might see... that he might see too much, drew back suddenly. The cleric started in surprise, but shifted his attention to helping Mole up to her feet. “You’ve lost a great deal of blood, and you’ll likely be weak for a time,” Ruphos told her. “You—both of you, should come with me to the Temple of Helm. My brethren can help tend to your needs, and see that you find someplace safe and comfortable where you can rest and recover from your travails.” Zenna, bracing against the wall, struggled back to her feet. It was clear that the gesture cost her no small amount of energy, but she put on a determined look as she looked down at the cleric, still kneeling in the dirt of the alley. “Thank you for what you did for my friend,” she said. “But really, we should—” “What she means to say, is thank you, of course we’ll accept your generous offer of hospitality,” Mole broke in. “We’ve only just arrived in the city, and we appreciate any help you can provide us.” Ruphos glanced at them both, his gaze settling finally on Zenna, who—reluctantly, it was clear—nodded. [/QUOTE]
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