For Parts I, II, and III, see the original thread here.
Experimentation continues, and characters, both purpose-built and incidental, have added up. I hear people don't like to read, so will keep the text brief...
I was goofing around with setting up scenes, but tried to arrange them into something resembling a story.
With their relentless pursuer still not fully revealed, the Lady of the Lake and her brave champion had fled from nine realms into a tenth. They looked around them anxiously, although they were now threading on holy ground that should keep them safe for the moment.
They had arrived at the half-ruined ancient temple of Burguz Andrun, where the High Priestess of Aruz has consented to grant them an audience. Mindful of her own safety amid the mysterious enemy's progress, she chose a place to meet far from home. Having found one of her retinue and announced themselves, they awaited her appearance impatiently.
At long last she arrived quietly in the hall, studying her visitors with curiosity and a measure of suspicion.
After brief pleasantries, the Lady of the Lake explained what little she knew of her plight and implored the High Priestess for help and guidance.
Having listened attentively but dispassionately, the High Priestess motioned to her Steward, who presented the Lady of the Lake with a prepared gift. The High Priestess explained that, whatever the true nature of the mysterious threat, this should offer a substantial amount of protection.
Somewhat taken aback by the ready, yet unconvincing solution, the Lady of the Lake took the gift and put it on, muttering her confused thanks. It was a dragonbone necklace. A bulky, awkward, ugly thing made of large beads and shards roughly hewn from the bones of a dragon. She could not even begin to guess which bones the beads came from, but the High Priestess assured her that as long as she wore the necklace, none of the magical races sprung from the blood of dragons could inflict her bodily harm.
The High Priestess instructed the Lady and her champion to depart immediately, lest the threat should follow them to this place. While she advised caution, she explained that by all appearances the threat could only be overcome if it were faced head on. Also, that it should only be faced when it was more fully understood. She briefly stayed and watched the Lady and her champion depart after they had thanked her, seemingly divining their fate.
Still lost in thought, she absent-mindedly turned to head home, while the Lady and her champion hurried to make another appointment, set up for them by the High Priestess' Steward.
At a small square near the gate of the town, the Lady and her champion met a couple of Atlantian mercenaries, tasked by the Steward to provide them with some added security on their journey. The mercenaries wore gaudy and seemingly impractical attire, intended to demonstrate their prowess, bravery, and wealth, and could not differ more in disposition from each other. One was the strong silent type, who nevertheless could charm the moss off a stone, the other a loud, abrasive officer, whose tone of voice came in only two variations, shouted angry commands, and loud exclamations. Although appreciative for the added security, the Lady could not help but wonder exactly how useful these two would be, and whether the High Priestess had not simply abandoned her to her fate with the slightest pretense of demonstrated concern.
The small group headed out of Burguz Andrun from the same gate by which they had entered, advancing in the direction from which they had come. If they were to learn anything about their pursuer, they would have to draw nearer. Advancing through the forest was no trouble, as the canopy let through the golden light of the afternoon sun. But even in this pretty setting, even so close to their point of departure, the Atlantians sensed they were being watched and followed. Champion and mercenaries alike prepared for what seemed like an imminent ambush.
But no attack came that evening or that night. By morning the Lady had drifted into a deep, restful sleep, and was only gradually awakened by shouts and screams piercing the relative quiet of the waking forest. The Atlantians emerged from the woods, dragging and whipping a captive creature into the dew-covered grassy clearing.
The creature was clearly some sort of faun, and in-between shouts and screams, the Lady and her champion were told that he was caught observing the camp. Surely, he was a scout of the Lady's pursuer, and should be tortured to reveal all he knew. The unfortunate faun proceeded to implore the Lady for mercy, while the Atlantian captain declared that the captive could not yet be trusted to tell the truth and should be whipped some more. His more perceptive colleague, sensing the Lady's mood, held back from inflicting any more blows with the whip.
He was right to do so. The Lady took pity on the faun's piteous cries for mercy, gently stayed her overzealous captain's hand and sword, and ignored her champion's insistent demands for caution so close to the creature.
It was a gamble, thinking that she knew better how to handle a captive enemy than her protectors, or hoping that her mercy would be met with gratitude. She consoled the faun and calmed him with words of kindness and friendship, while the Atlantian captain vainly exhorted the other two men to "talk some sense" into the Lady.
She would have none of this, and they knew better than to try. The faun confessed that he had, in fact, been sent to observe the camp and report on the locations and actions of its denizens. Of course, he sought forgiveness and sought to expiate his error. Before long, the Lady and the faun were chattering like friends fondly reunited after a long absence. But time was of the essence and, having broken the ice, the Lady sought the faun's help in identifying and locating her pursuer. Eager to make up for his actions, he readily offered up all he knew, which was not very much. But he knew the path the pursuer would use to arrive, and pointed it out to the Lady and her protectors. They looked on with interest, but still full of caution. How much could one trust a faun anyway?
To be continued...
For Parts I, II, and III, see the original thread here.
Experimentation continues, and characters, both purpose-built and incidental, have added up. I hear people don't like to read, so will keep the text brief...
I was goofing around with setting up scenes, but tried to arrange them into something resembling a story. With their relentless pursuer still not fully revealed, the Lady of the Lake and her brave champion had fled from nine realms into a tenth. They looked around them anxiously, although they were now threading on holy ground that should keep them safe for the moment.
They had arrived at the half-ruined ancient temple of Burguz Andrun, where the High Priestess of Aruz has consented to grant them an audience. Mindful of her own safety amid the mysterious enemy's progress, she chose a place to meet far from home. Having found one of her retinue and announced themselves, they awaited her appearance impatiently.
At long last she arrived quietly in the hall, studying her visitors with curiosity and a measure of suspicion.
After brief pleasantries, the Lady of the Lake explained what little she knew of her plight and implored the High Priestess for help and guidance.
Having listened attentively but dispassionately, the High Priestess motioned to her Steward, who presented the Lady of the Lake with a prepared gift. The High Priestess explained that, whatever the true nature of the mysterious threat, this should offer a substantial amount of protection.
Somewhat taken aback by the ready, yet unconvincing solution, the Lady of the Lake took the gift and put it on, muttering her confused thanks. It was a dragonbone necklace. A bulky, awkward, ugly thing made of large beads and shards roughly hewn from the bones of a dragon. She could not even begin to guess which bones the beads came from, but the High Priestess assured her that as long as she wore the necklace, none of the magical races sprung from the blood of dragons could inflict her bodily harm.
The High Priestess instructed the Lady and her champion to depart immediately, lest the threat should follow them to this place. While she advised caution, she explained that by all appearances the threat could only be overcome if it were faced head on. Also, that it should only be faced when it was more fully understood. She briefly stayed and watched the Lady and her champion depart after they had thanked her, seemingly divining their fate.
Still lost in thought, she absent-mindedly turned to head home, while the Lady and her champion hurried to make another appointment, set up for them by the High Priestess' Steward.
At a small square near the gate of the town, the Lady and her champion met a couple of Atlantian mercenaries, tasked by the Steward to provide them with some added security on their journey. The mercenaries wore gaudy and seemingly impractical attire, intended to demonstrate their prowess, bravery, and wealth, and could not differ more in disposition from each other. One was the strong silent type, who nevertheless could charm the moss off a stone, the other a loud, abrasive officer, whose tone of voice came in only two variations, shouted angry commands, and loud exclamations. Although appreciative for the added security, the Lady could not help but wonder exactly how useful these two would be, and whether the High Priestess had not simply abandoned her to her fate with the slightest pretense of demonstrated concern.
The small group headed out of Burguz Andrun from the same gate by which they had entered, advancing in the direction from which they had come. If they were to learn anything about their pursuer, they would have to draw nearer. Advancing through the forest was no trouble, as the canopy let through the golden light of the afternoon sun. But even in this pretty setting, even so close to their point of departure, the Atlantians sensed they were being watched and followed. Champion and mercenaries alike prepared for what seemed like an imminent ambush.
But no attack came that evening or that night. By morning the Lady had drifted into a deep, restful sleep, and was only gradually awakened by shouts and screams piercing the relative quiet of the waking forest. The Atlantians emerged from the woods, dragging and whipping a captive creature into the dew-covered grassy clearing.
The creature was clearly some sort of faun, and in-between shouts and screams, the Lady and her champion were told that he was caught observing the camp. Surely, he was a scout of the Lady's pursuer, and should be tortured to reveal all he knew. The unfortunate faun proceeded to implore the Lady for mercy, while the Atlantian captain declared that the captive could not yet be trusted to tell the truth and should be whipped some more. His more perceptive colleague, sensing the Lady's mood, held back from inflicting any more blows with the whip.
He was right to do so. The Lady took pity on the faun's piteous cries for mercy, gently stayed her overzealous captain's hand and sword, and ignored her champion's insistent demands for caution so close to the creature.
It was a gamble, thinking that she knew better how to handle a captive enemy than her protectors, or hoping that her mercy would be met with gratitude. She consoled the faun and calmed him with words of kindness and friendship, while the Atlantian captain vainly exhorted the other two men to "talk some sense" into the Lady.
She would have none of this, and they knew better than to try. The faun confessed that he had, in fact, been sent to observe the camp and report on the locations and actions of its denizens. Of course, he sought forgiveness and sought to expiate his error. Before long, the Lady and the faun were chattering like friends fondly reunited after a long absence. But time was of the essence and, having broken the ice, the Lady sought the faun's help in identifying and locating her pursuer. Eager to make up for his actions, he readily offered up all he knew, which was not very much. But he knew the path the pursuer would use to arrive, and pointed it out to the Lady and her protectors. They looked on with interest, but still full of caution. How much could one trust a faun anyway?
To be continued...
For Parts I, II, and III, see the original thread here.
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