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The Chronicles of Essenon-Vengeance!
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<blockquote data-quote="Tsillanabor" data-source="post: 3717205" data-attributes="member: 40432"><p>“Halt!” Two guards was posted before the doors. Their armor seemed somewhat large on them, and they held their spears awkwardly. Brock could see that they were young and nervous. Garusha snickered at them.</p><p></p><p>“We are here at Lord Hrothgar’s request,” Brock stated. One of the guards entered the hall, presumably to confirm this.</p><p></p><p>“Good thing you’re here to stop Grendel,” Garusha taunted. The remaining guard blanched before her toothy grin.</p><p></p><p>“Can you actually hit anything holding your spear like that?” Rigor added.</p><p></p><p>Brock felt for the lad. Stepping up to the guard, he placed the boy’s hands properly on the spear’s haft. “That should help,” he said as he stepped back. The young warrior gave a weak smile.</p><p></p><p>After a few minutes they were shown into Hrothgar’s hall. Like the exterior, the interior was richly adorned. Banners won in the heat of battle and trophies taken from varied dangerous Kyrlund creatures told the tale of Hrothgar’s glorious past.</p><p></p><p>The present was not quite as glorious. Hrothgar sagged upon his throne like a defeated man. He still wore his finery, but Brock thought he hardly looked the part of a king. Muscle had softened into fat. The once firm jaw was now buried beneath fatty jowls. His hair was white with age and his hand trembled upon the arm of his seat. </p><p></p><p>“I welcome the son of my old friend,” the old man said, “thank you for aiding me in these troubled times.”</p><p></p><p>Wiglaf introduced everyone in the group. Hrothgar nodded to each in turn. He then gestured a young man forward.</p><p></p><p>“This is my son Heorc,” he told them. Heorc looked the part of a Kyrlund prince. Disdaining the display of finery, he wore armor in a manner that showed he knew how to wear it. Tall and strong, his red hair was tied in a warrior’s braid. Brock could see the tell-tale signs of an old anger in the determined set of his face. </p><p></p><p>“We shall do what we can,” Brock states, “now tell us of this creature.”</p><p></p><p><em>Lord Hrothgar, ancient ring-giver, spoke of Grendel</em></p><p><em>“We know not from what Abyss the savage beast came</em></p><p><em>Its reign of terror began a fortnight ago</em></p><p><em>It began by attacking the helpless village</em></p><p><em>Each night one of my serfs disappeared down his throat</em></p><p><em>My bold son set out to ambush the foul creature</em></p><p><em>We know one of the lakes is its watery lair</em></p><p><em>Four times I sent my household guard against Grendel</em></p><p><em>Four times were they repulsed by the beast’s hellish strength</em></p><p><em>For the strength of men is but that of a newborn</em></p><p><em>Compared to the awesome might of Grendel’s power</em></p><p><em>The stout spears of my thanes broke against his tough hide</em></p><p><em>And any wound they dealt him healed before their eyes</em></p><p><em>Vicious claws pierced armor as though it were but wool</em></p><p><em>Each time they set out, fewer returned to Heorot</em></p><p><em>Now the beast grows bold, and attacks this very hall</em></p><p><em>And I have been imprisoned within my own walls</em></p><p><em>The bones of the dead litter the ground like fall’s leaves</em></p><p><em>If Grendel is not slain, Heorot will surely fall</em></p><p><em>The fierce flame of my people shall be extinguished</em></p><p><em>And no one shall know to where our bones are scattered</em></p><p><em>Who will mourn the line of Hrothgar when all are slain?”</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Brock was not impressed by this sorrow for the dead</em></p><p><em>For the deeds of men are worth more than any words</em></p><p><em>And bloody vengeance is far better than mourning</em></p><p><em>The shield of his people seemed made of rotten wood</em></p><p><em>The Son of Magnus spoke his intentions boldly</em></p><p><em>“The very Sons of Ymir tremble at my approach</em></p><p><em>My wrath is like a thunderstorm ready to strike</em></p><p><em>Upon the head of this foul beast-and it shall fall</em></p><p><em>By the strong axe of Brock of the House of Magnus!”</em></p><p></p><p><strong>Next: A Challenge!</strong></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Tsillanabor, post: 3717205, member: 40432"] “Halt!” Two guards was posted before the doors. Their armor seemed somewhat large on them, and they held their spears awkwardly. Brock could see that they were young and nervous. Garusha snickered at them. “We are here at Lord Hrothgar’s request,” Brock stated. One of the guards entered the hall, presumably to confirm this. “Good thing you’re here to stop Grendel,” Garusha taunted. The remaining guard blanched before her toothy grin. “Can you actually hit anything holding your spear like that?” Rigor added. Brock felt for the lad. Stepping up to the guard, he placed the boy’s hands properly on the spear’s haft. “That should help,” he said as he stepped back. The young warrior gave a weak smile. After a few minutes they were shown into Hrothgar’s hall. Like the exterior, the interior was richly adorned. Banners won in the heat of battle and trophies taken from varied dangerous Kyrlund creatures told the tale of Hrothgar’s glorious past. The present was not quite as glorious. Hrothgar sagged upon his throne like a defeated man. He still wore his finery, but Brock thought he hardly looked the part of a king. Muscle had softened into fat. The once firm jaw was now buried beneath fatty jowls. His hair was white with age and his hand trembled upon the arm of his seat. “I welcome the son of my old friend,” the old man said, “thank you for aiding me in these troubled times.” Wiglaf introduced everyone in the group. Hrothgar nodded to each in turn. He then gestured a young man forward. “This is my son Heorc,” he told them. Heorc looked the part of a Kyrlund prince. Disdaining the display of finery, he wore armor in a manner that showed he knew how to wear it. Tall and strong, his red hair was tied in a warrior’s braid. Brock could see the tell-tale signs of an old anger in the determined set of his face. “We shall do what we can,” Brock states, “now tell us of this creature.” [I]Lord Hrothgar, ancient ring-giver, spoke of Grendel “We know not from what Abyss the savage beast came Its reign of terror began a fortnight ago It began by attacking the helpless village Each night one of my serfs disappeared down his throat My bold son set out to ambush the foul creature We know one of the lakes is its watery lair Four times I sent my household guard against Grendel Four times were they repulsed by the beast’s hellish strength For the strength of men is but that of a newborn Compared to the awesome might of Grendel’s power The stout spears of my thanes broke against his tough hide And any wound they dealt him healed before their eyes Vicious claws pierced armor as though it were but wool Each time they set out, fewer returned to Heorot Now the beast grows bold, and attacks this very hall And I have been imprisoned within my own walls The bones of the dead litter the ground like fall’s leaves If Grendel is not slain, Heorot will surely fall The fierce flame of my people shall be extinguished And no one shall know to where our bones are scattered Who will mourn the line of Hrothgar when all are slain?” Brock was not impressed by this sorrow for the dead For the deeds of men are worth more than any words And bloody vengeance is far better than mourning The shield of his people seemed made of rotten wood The Son of Magnus spoke his intentions boldly “The very Sons of Ymir tremble at my approach My wrath is like a thunderstorm ready to strike Upon the head of this foul beast-and it shall fall By the strong axe of Brock of the House of Magnus!”[/I] [B]Next: A Challenge![/B] [/QUOTE]
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