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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: 3515708" data-attributes="member: 46615"><p>Over the next ten days we sparred and trained, relearning tactics and honing skills that the Baron deemed necessary. </p><p></p><p>It was the second day of the month of Burn when we once again set off from Yorathton, although this time we had thousands of Silver Sickles in our packs to pay for our entry in the Gladatorial Games of Halfast.</p><p></p><p>I sat astride my newly purchased horse caressing its neck and reassuring it. I too had sunk to talking to animals; amazing what a few experiences will do. Morgan had also bought a mount. The others stood in the mud milling about waiting for Moxadder. An unseasonal drizzle fell steadily. Through its haze he finally arrived, boots splashing through the mud, spattering it in all directions. He ran up puffing, “Sorry. Just had to get me some supplies.” </p><p></p><p>“Yes. You couldn’t do without them could you?” spat Morgan sarcastically.</p><p></p><p>That was the scene as we left Yorathton. Heads bowed against the drizzle instead of held high and proud as entrants to the games should look. Foeld, the nature God, had no sense of occasion. He could have at least provided us with fine weather.</p><p></p><p>The rain cleared by late morning, making our midday meal that little bit more enjoyable. As we travelled on into the afternoon it became apparent to all that we were being watched. From under bushes and in the long grass by the road way we passed pairs of rodent eyes peering at us. Every now and again we saw a rat scamper across the trail. </p><p></p><p>Sometime near late afternoon we saw a column of smoke away to the south. Soon after spotting it we crossed a branch in the road that headed in that direction, so being the dutiful representatives of the Baron that we were we decided to investigate. </p><p></p><p>We wandered down the road perhaps a mile before coming to a blazing homestead. By the look of it there was nothing we could do to save the building, and as we came closer, probably nothing we could do for the owners either. Goat carcases lay with massive bite wounds in a pen near the road. Argonne and Moxadder were quick to find evidence of Rat Trolls and rats. A gasp and a pointed finger from Argonne confirmed it. A small scaly face peered at us from the scrub not one hundred yards away. Some huge rats appeared from within the house, they also eyed us intently. There was nothing to be gained by staying so we hurried back to the main road to continue to Halfast. </p><p></p><p>A wary bunch we were when it came to settle for the night. We chose to establish watches to ensure that nothing crept up on us. My vigil was uneventful and it was only in the morning as we were woken by the rays of the sun breaking through the clouds left from the previous day that we learnt that Morgan and Mortec had seen ghosts walk straight through our camp. </p><p></p><p>The rest of us laughed heartily and scoffed at their silliness, but they would not be dissuaded. They claimed to have seen shimmering semi-transparent figures, adorned in white Gerechian robes and tabards marching down the road, then through our camp and off again. When hailed the spectres did not respond, they just continued on their way. So adamant were the pair that I almost started to believe their ridiculous tale. </p><p></p><p>That day, just after we had passed the temple of Srcan where we had attempted to shelter from the rain all those days ago on our original journey from Halfast to Yorathton, we found more rats.</p><p></p><p>Several of the large ones, perhaps a dozen, were feasting on something that lay in the middle of our path. Strav and Argonne ventured closer to identify the dead thing. Two rats looked up at them in annoyance, disturbed from their meal. “Blimey! It’s a Squatter Troll! There ‘aint no way these blighters could have taken it down.” Argonne called back, shaking his head in disbelief.</p><p></p><p>“Come on! They’re only rats.” said Strav, “Let’s just kill them and be on our way.”</p><p></p><p>His little speech seemed to have sparked interest in the rats. They started squeaking excitedly as they forgot their meal and began to leap about as if in great anticipation of something. </p><p></p><p> “Do you hear that?” asked Mortec softly.</p><p></p><p>“What?” was the general reply.</p><p></p><p>A low rumbling cut short any response Mortec considered. It was as if thunder was rolling in across the ground. Little stones started to shake on the road. I could feel the vibrations accompanying the deep, booming and loudening sound. </p><p></p><p>Then we heard the squeaking. As if a thousand rats were charging our way. I was wrong. It was more like a million! And with no less than a Squatter Troll fleeing before them. each massive step bringing the ominous booming sound closer to us.</p><p></p><p>“Run!” I screamed. No time for decorum. I grabbed Mortec by the scruff of the neck and hoisted him up to my mount, no mean feat for a man of my strength, but it has been said that fear enables a man to achieve more than he normally could. Even so, I thank Srcan that Mortec was a Gnome. I doubt I could have lifted anyone else. I spurred my horse off the road, angling away from the rat horde that threatened to swamp us. The others followed, Morgan riding at my heels, the others running as fast as they could.</p><p></p><p>A glance over my shoulder allowed me to see the mighty troll fall, finally overcome by numbers. He was swamped instantly but the plague continued its ferocious journey toward us.</p><p></p><p>My horse galloped through long tussocky grass, a few minutes later we crested a hillock and saw a remarkable scene, as if the one behind us was not enough. Several peasants toiled in a field to the side of a large hill. That in itself was not odd, but the fact that there were a few rats about gnawing on them as they worked was. I swear, as the farmers swung their hoes into the earth, or what was left of their broken and rotted tools, rats ate their fill of them. The people did not even seem to notice the rodent feast that they had become. </p><p></p><p>I turned my mount to see whether the rats had stopped pursuit. Morgan and I seemed to have out distanced them, but then came the rest of the company. Strav was leading the way, his feet barely touching the earth before they launched another long stride. Moxadder was next, moving very quickly although puffing hard. Finally came Argonne and Kuruul. The lanky woodsman was holding his newly repaired axe in one hand as he ran. Kuruul loped easily beside him, as if acting the guardian.</p><p></p><p>Behind my friends stormed the rats, screaming their shrill shrieks and quite simply intent on devouring us. I wheeled my horse around, almost losing Mortec in the process but his stubby fingers gripped firmly into my waist, saving him from a tumble, and headed for the peasants.</p><p></p><p>“No!” bellowed Strav urgently, “The hill! Open the doors!”</p><p></p><p>What doors? And then I saw them. Two massive bronze doors set in the hill. I urged my mare forwards as Morgan did the same with his mount. </p><p></p><p>I leapt off my horse and began to pull at the handle. It was no good. The massive doors must have stood fifteen feet high. Morgan and Mortec were trying to tug open the other door and with similar lack of success. In frustration I stepped back and looked up at the immovable barriers and noticed for the first time the crudely drawn crossed stakes painted in dry blood. A temple of Geduld, the death God, was not a place that anyone, especially uninvited, wanted to enter. </p><p></p><p>Strav arrived and threw his weight into aiding Morgan and Mortec with the door. Soon after came an exhausted Moxadder. He immediately bent, hand on knees and gasped in huge breaths. By the time Argonne arrive the door had still not moved. He rushed to aid the others, hurling the Gnome aside and taking his place. </p><p></p><p>There was no room for me to help so I stood back. I had never envisaged dying to a rat plague, gnawed to death. It did not seem a particularly noble way to die. </p><p></p><p>“Gerard! Look there! Behind the symbol.” said Mortec excitedly bringing my thoughts back to our immediate situation.</p><p></p><p>I looked. Mortec had spied a symbol behind Geduld’s mark. I brushed off the blood with a gloved hand and revealed a hub with twelve arrows radiating from it. This was marvellous. Not only was I going to be eaten alive, it was going to be in front of a Gerechian temple. Perhaps Gerech himself was free of the Lightstone and was delivering his justice upon to me after I had spoke ill of him and taunted his followers.</p><p></p><p>The rats appeared on the crest where I had turned to observe their progress. Their cries became more excited. Their prey had stopped.</p><p></p><p>A large creak to my side signalled that the trio had made progress. The bronze studded door had opened a crack. Morgan, Argonne and Strav were frantically pulling it open. Moxadder, Mortec and I ran to assist by bracing against the closed door and pushing the opened one. The crack widened. Mortec slipped through, pushing from within. It inched open some more and Moxadder, Kuruul and I followed suit. </p><p></p><p>The vermin were very close now. Perhaps only seconds from their meal. Another moment saw the others dive through the opening dragging the horses with them. All of the sudden we were pulling madly.</p><p></p><p>The screeches of joy were upon us!</p><p></p><p>Boom! The door slammed shut. Darkness engulfed us. Only our ragged breathing could be heard.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Haraash Saan, post: 3515708, member: 46615"] Over the next ten days we sparred and trained, relearning tactics and honing skills that the Baron deemed necessary. It was the second day of the month of Burn when we once again set off from Yorathton, although this time we had thousands of Silver Sickles in our packs to pay for our entry in the Gladatorial Games of Halfast. I sat astride my newly purchased horse caressing its neck and reassuring it. I too had sunk to talking to animals; amazing what a few experiences will do. Morgan had also bought a mount. The others stood in the mud milling about waiting for Moxadder. An unseasonal drizzle fell steadily. Through its haze he finally arrived, boots splashing through the mud, spattering it in all directions. He ran up puffing, “Sorry. Just had to get me some supplies.” “Yes. You couldn’t do without them could you?” spat Morgan sarcastically. That was the scene as we left Yorathton. Heads bowed against the drizzle instead of held high and proud as entrants to the games should look. Foeld, the nature God, had no sense of occasion. He could have at least provided us with fine weather. The rain cleared by late morning, making our midday meal that little bit more enjoyable. As we travelled on into the afternoon it became apparent to all that we were being watched. From under bushes and in the long grass by the road way we passed pairs of rodent eyes peering at us. Every now and again we saw a rat scamper across the trail. Sometime near late afternoon we saw a column of smoke away to the south. Soon after spotting it we crossed a branch in the road that headed in that direction, so being the dutiful representatives of the Baron that we were we decided to investigate. We wandered down the road perhaps a mile before coming to a blazing homestead. By the look of it there was nothing we could do to save the building, and as we came closer, probably nothing we could do for the owners either. Goat carcases lay with massive bite wounds in a pen near the road. Argonne and Moxadder were quick to find evidence of Rat Trolls and rats. A gasp and a pointed finger from Argonne confirmed it. A small scaly face peered at us from the scrub not one hundred yards away. Some huge rats appeared from within the house, they also eyed us intently. There was nothing to be gained by staying so we hurried back to the main road to continue to Halfast. A wary bunch we were when it came to settle for the night. We chose to establish watches to ensure that nothing crept up on us. My vigil was uneventful and it was only in the morning as we were woken by the rays of the sun breaking through the clouds left from the previous day that we learnt that Morgan and Mortec had seen ghosts walk straight through our camp. The rest of us laughed heartily and scoffed at their silliness, but they would not be dissuaded. They claimed to have seen shimmering semi-transparent figures, adorned in white Gerechian robes and tabards marching down the road, then through our camp and off again. When hailed the spectres did not respond, they just continued on their way. So adamant were the pair that I almost started to believe their ridiculous tale. That day, just after we had passed the temple of Srcan where we had attempted to shelter from the rain all those days ago on our original journey from Halfast to Yorathton, we found more rats. Several of the large ones, perhaps a dozen, were feasting on something that lay in the middle of our path. Strav and Argonne ventured closer to identify the dead thing. Two rats looked up at them in annoyance, disturbed from their meal. “Blimey! It’s a Squatter Troll! There ‘aint no way these blighters could have taken it down.” Argonne called back, shaking his head in disbelief. “Come on! They’re only rats.” said Strav, “Let’s just kill them and be on our way.” His little speech seemed to have sparked interest in the rats. They started squeaking excitedly as they forgot their meal and began to leap about as if in great anticipation of something. “Do you hear that?” asked Mortec softly. “What?” was the general reply. A low rumbling cut short any response Mortec considered. It was as if thunder was rolling in across the ground. Little stones started to shake on the road. I could feel the vibrations accompanying the deep, booming and loudening sound. Then we heard the squeaking. As if a thousand rats were charging our way. I was wrong. It was more like a million! And with no less than a Squatter Troll fleeing before them. each massive step bringing the ominous booming sound closer to us. “Run!” I screamed. No time for decorum. I grabbed Mortec by the scruff of the neck and hoisted him up to my mount, no mean feat for a man of my strength, but it has been said that fear enables a man to achieve more than he normally could. Even so, I thank Srcan that Mortec was a Gnome. I doubt I could have lifted anyone else. I spurred my horse off the road, angling away from the rat horde that threatened to swamp us. The others followed, Morgan riding at my heels, the others running as fast as they could. A glance over my shoulder allowed me to see the mighty troll fall, finally overcome by numbers. He was swamped instantly but the plague continued its ferocious journey toward us. My horse galloped through long tussocky grass, a few minutes later we crested a hillock and saw a remarkable scene, as if the one behind us was not enough. Several peasants toiled in a field to the side of a large hill. That in itself was not odd, but the fact that there were a few rats about gnawing on them as they worked was. I swear, as the farmers swung their hoes into the earth, or what was left of their broken and rotted tools, rats ate their fill of them. The people did not even seem to notice the rodent feast that they had become. I turned my mount to see whether the rats had stopped pursuit. Morgan and I seemed to have out distanced them, but then came the rest of the company. Strav was leading the way, his feet barely touching the earth before they launched another long stride. Moxadder was next, moving very quickly although puffing hard. Finally came Argonne and Kuruul. The lanky woodsman was holding his newly repaired axe in one hand as he ran. Kuruul loped easily beside him, as if acting the guardian. Behind my friends stormed the rats, screaming their shrill shrieks and quite simply intent on devouring us. I wheeled my horse around, almost losing Mortec in the process but his stubby fingers gripped firmly into my waist, saving him from a tumble, and headed for the peasants. “No!” bellowed Strav urgently, “The hill! Open the doors!” What doors? And then I saw them. Two massive bronze doors set in the hill. I urged my mare forwards as Morgan did the same with his mount. I leapt off my horse and began to pull at the handle. It was no good. The massive doors must have stood fifteen feet high. Morgan and Mortec were trying to tug open the other door and with similar lack of success. In frustration I stepped back and looked up at the immovable barriers and noticed for the first time the crudely drawn crossed stakes painted in dry blood. A temple of Geduld, the death God, was not a place that anyone, especially uninvited, wanted to enter. Strav arrived and threw his weight into aiding Morgan and Mortec with the door. Soon after came an exhausted Moxadder. He immediately bent, hand on knees and gasped in huge breaths. By the time Argonne arrive the door had still not moved. He rushed to aid the others, hurling the Gnome aside and taking his place. There was no room for me to help so I stood back. I had never envisaged dying to a rat plague, gnawed to death. It did not seem a particularly noble way to die. “Gerard! Look there! Behind the symbol.” said Mortec excitedly bringing my thoughts back to our immediate situation. I looked. Mortec had spied a symbol behind Geduld’s mark. I brushed off the blood with a gloved hand and revealed a hub with twelve arrows radiating from it. This was marvellous. Not only was I going to be eaten alive, it was going to be in front of a Gerechian temple. Perhaps Gerech himself was free of the Lightstone and was delivering his justice upon to me after I had spoke ill of him and taunted his followers. The rats appeared on the crest where I had turned to observe their progress. Their cries became more excited. Their prey had stopped. A large creak to my side signalled that the trio had made progress. The bronze studded door had opened a crack. Morgan, Argonne and Strav were frantically pulling it open. Moxadder, Mortec and I ran to assist by bracing against the closed door and pushing the opened one. The crack widened. Mortec slipped through, pushing from within. It inched open some more and Moxadder, Kuruul and I followed suit. The vermin were very close now. Perhaps only seconds from their meal. Another moment saw the others dive through the opening dragging the horses with them. All of the sudden we were pulling madly. The screeches of joy were upon us! Boom! The door slammed shut. Darkness engulfed us. Only our ragged breathing could be heard. [/QUOTE]
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Sir Gerard d'Montfort - In his own words (a tale of Anka Seth)- Updated Nov 11th
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