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Sir Gerard d'Montfort - In his own words (a tale of Anka Seth)- Updated Nov 11th
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<blockquote data-quote="Haraash Saan" data-source="post: 3488776" data-attributes="member: 46615"><p>After Jack had disappeared through the scrub we considered our own situation. We had no need for a second ship considering our own was still moored in Port of Warlock. Although, as some argued, we could sell it for considerable gain, however it needed to be out of the region so that it could not be spotted and discredit Jack’s story. In the end we decided to give it to the freed folk of Ravenswood and let them sail it to their home. That way we would be rid of it and the obligation to them, although I was sure I could have consoled the lasses about their harrowing ordeal.</p><p></p><p>As the sun began its descent in the west we watched the departure of the longship. After it had left the cove we turned our thoughts to more pressing issues. It was decided that we would rest for the remainder of the day and that on the morrow we would revisit the site of the cat slaying, the dwarf’s home, and see what we could discover.</p><p></p><p>I awoke feeling refreshed. We had a clear direction and we had a plan, of sorts. My wounds had finally healed and I felt like a new man. Then I moved. I have already mentioned my dislike of sleeping in the wilderness. Two nights in a row did not make it any better. As soon as I moved I felt like an old man. Pain shot through my lower back. Several stretches did little to remedy it, although eventually the walk to Grisha’s cottage did.</p><p></p><p>We hid amongst some scrub that was on a small hillock that overlooked the dwarf’s abode. I felt like a bandit awaiting his prey; I did not enjoy it one bit. I was not about to duel over a lady, her token scarf wrapped around my wrist. I was not in the arena listening to the adoration of the people. No! I was lying amongst the long grass, on my belly, in the dirt and peering through some brush. It was not at all what I had thought my life would come to.</p><p></p><p>We waited for several hours before Moxadder had had enough. I watched him run in a hunched gait to the rear of the house before skulking slowly and carefully around until he was out of view. I cursed. We had decided to wait until the dwarf had left to go to the market, as he did daily at noon. But no, idiocy had once again planted a seed into the mind of one of my companions. We only had perhaps another hour to wait and he would have left and we could have examined his property at our leisure. </p><p></p><p>It horrifies me that I can actually write that. How low have I fallen? Am I now just a common thief? Well no. I can justify it as I was following the orders of my liege and I could think of no other way to get the information. Somehow asking the dwarf never really did come into our calculations. His demeanour had not enamoured me to him and I did not honestly think he would help us. Why would he?</p><p></p><p>Mortec was the next to move. It was an amusing sight. The grass was almost as tall as he was and it looked as though his head was somehow floating just above the sea of green, cheeks puffing out in exertion as he ran down the hill. He followed Moxadders trail to the front of the house. Argonne and Morgan left soon after. I know not where Strav was, but with a shake of my head and muffled prayer to Srcan asking for success in our endeavours, I joined the others. </p><p></p><p>Morgan disappeared around the other side of the house, the opposing route to that taken by Moxadder and Mortec. Argonne waited by a shuttered window, flat against the wall. I went join him, sucking in deep breaths as I ran. As I approached he swung his mighty axe into the shutters. They exploded inwards. With momentum behind me I dove through the now open window, landed in a roll and sprung to my feet. </p><p></p><p>I found myself in a bedroom. There was a bed in one corner, a small chest at its foot and a writing table with inks and parchments in another corner. I heard Grisha’s gruff voice on the other side of one of the inner walls. There was a door that provided an exit to the room. Crossbow still in hand I flung it open.</p><p></p><p>Grisha stood in the corner of a large room.. At least it looked like him. Beard, angry snarl and beady eyes, but he was now huge! He stood over ten feet tall and had to hunch his neck forward to avoid brushing the ceiling. In his hands was a tree trunk! Well it was the size of a small one and it was heading my way and wielded with rage. I squeezed my crossbows’ trigger and the bolt slammed into the dwarf’s (and I use the word with some trepidation because he was no longer a dwarf in the true sense of the word) chest just as his massive staff crashed into me. The blow sent my crossbow spinning out of my grasp and numbed my left shoulder so that my arm hung useless by my side. Nausea struck me immediately and I blinked back tears as my vision blurred. </p><p></p><p>Once I regained focus I saw that the others had not been idle. Another shaft stuck out from Grisha’s arm and the grey mass that was Kuruul leapt at his throat. He swatted the mutt away as if it were a gnat, giving me an opening. I summoned the last of my strength, whipped out Rumscully Jack’s rapier and with one stride thrust it into Grisha’s belly. I started to cry out a remarkably witty comment but I fear I cannot recall it for darkness engulfed me.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Haraash Saan, post: 3488776, member: 46615"] After Jack had disappeared through the scrub we considered our own situation. We had no need for a second ship considering our own was still moored in Port of Warlock. Although, as some argued, we could sell it for considerable gain, however it needed to be out of the region so that it could not be spotted and discredit Jack’s story. In the end we decided to give it to the freed folk of Ravenswood and let them sail it to their home. That way we would be rid of it and the obligation to them, although I was sure I could have consoled the lasses about their harrowing ordeal. As the sun began its descent in the west we watched the departure of the longship. After it had left the cove we turned our thoughts to more pressing issues. It was decided that we would rest for the remainder of the day and that on the morrow we would revisit the site of the cat slaying, the dwarf’s home, and see what we could discover. I awoke feeling refreshed. We had a clear direction and we had a plan, of sorts. My wounds had finally healed and I felt like a new man. Then I moved. I have already mentioned my dislike of sleeping in the wilderness. Two nights in a row did not make it any better. As soon as I moved I felt like an old man. Pain shot through my lower back. Several stretches did little to remedy it, although eventually the walk to Grisha’s cottage did. We hid amongst some scrub that was on a small hillock that overlooked the dwarf’s abode. I felt like a bandit awaiting his prey; I did not enjoy it one bit. I was not about to duel over a lady, her token scarf wrapped around my wrist. I was not in the arena listening to the adoration of the people. No! I was lying amongst the long grass, on my belly, in the dirt and peering through some brush. It was not at all what I had thought my life would come to. We waited for several hours before Moxadder had had enough. I watched him run in a hunched gait to the rear of the house before skulking slowly and carefully around until he was out of view. I cursed. We had decided to wait until the dwarf had left to go to the market, as he did daily at noon. But no, idiocy had once again planted a seed into the mind of one of my companions. We only had perhaps another hour to wait and he would have left and we could have examined his property at our leisure. It horrifies me that I can actually write that. How low have I fallen? Am I now just a common thief? Well no. I can justify it as I was following the orders of my liege and I could think of no other way to get the information. Somehow asking the dwarf never really did come into our calculations. His demeanour had not enamoured me to him and I did not honestly think he would help us. Why would he? Mortec was the next to move. It was an amusing sight. The grass was almost as tall as he was and it looked as though his head was somehow floating just above the sea of green, cheeks puffing out in exertion as he ran down the hill. He followed Moxadders trail to the front of the house. Argonne and Morgan left soon after. I know not where Strav was, but with a shake of my head and muffled prayer to Srcan asking for success in our endeavours, I joined the others. Morgan disappeared around the other side of the house, the opposing route to that taken by Moxadder and Mortec. Argonne waited by a shuttered window, flat against the wall. I went join him, sucking in deep breaths as I ran. As I approached he swung his mighty axe into the shutters. They exploded inwards. With momentum behind me I dove through the now open window, landed in a roll and sprung to my feet. I found myself in a bedroom. There was a bed in one corner, a small chest at its foot and a writing table with inks and parchments in another corner. I heard Grisha’s gruff voice on the other side of one of the inner walls. There was a door that provided an exit to the room. Crossbow still in hand I flung it open. Grisha stood in the corner of a large room.. At least it looked like him. Beard, angry snarl and beady eyes, but he was now huge! He stood over ten feet tall and had to hunch his neck forward to avoid brushing the ceiling. In his hands was a tree trunk! Well it was the size of a small one and it was heading my way and wielded with rage. I squeezed my crossbows’ trigger and the bolt slammed into the dwarf’s (and I use the word with some trepidation because he was no longer a dwarf in the true sense of the word) chest just as his massive staff crashed into me. The blow sent my crossbow spinning out of my grasp and numbed my left shoulder so that my arm hung useless by my side. Nausea struck me immediately and I blinked back tears as my vision blurred. Once I regained focus I saw that the others had not been idle. Another shaft stuck out from Grisha’s arm and the grey mass that was Kuruul leapt at his throat. He swatted the mutt away as if it were a gnat, giving me an opening. I summoned the last of my strength, whipped out Rumscully Jack’s rapier and with one stride thrust it into Grisha’s belly. I started to cry out a remarkably witty comment but I fear I cannot recall it for darkness engulfed me. [/QUOTE]
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