[Mkguild] Healing Wounds in Arabarb (46 of ?)

[Hallan Mirayas]

*happy dances along with!*  And at the hand of his own monster, no less.  Classic. :)

Evil Overlord List Rule #48: I will treat any beast which I control through magic or technology with 
respect and kindness. Thus if the control is ever broken, it will not 
immediately come after me for revenge.  At least he avoided Rule #34, though. :)

> From: chrisokane at verizon.net
> To: jagille3 at vt.edu; MKGuild at lists.integral.org
> Date: Mon, 30 May 2011 13:14:13 -0400
> Subject: Re: [Mkguild] Healing Wounds in Arabarb (46 of ?)
> 
> You finally killed Calephas!  Hurrah!  I've waited for that monsters death
> for a long time!
> 
> *Does a happy dance!
> 
> Chris
> The Lurking Fox
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> -----Original Message-----
> From: mkguild-bounces at lists.integral.org
> [mailto:mkguild-bounces at lists.integral.org] On Behalf Of C. Matthias
> Sent: Monday, May 23, 2011 4:39 AM
> To: Metamor Keep
> Subject: [Mkguild] Healing Wounds in Arabarb (46 of ?)
> 
> Healing Wounds in Arabarb
> By Charles Matthias
> 
> 
> One thing that Alfwig had grown used to in the two months he had been 
> chained in the dungeon of Fjellvidden castle was the sounds of the 
> river rushing past. The water lapped at the stone foundations and 
> when the tide was high, at the floor beneath him. It almost purred as 
> it flowed to the distant ocean. No matter when he felt tired, it 
> never ceased to lull him to sleep. Fitful sleep with bad dreams 
> perhaps, but still sleep nevertheless.
> 
> This meant that even he could hear the sound of fighting in the city 
> when it began. It may not be in the castle, but it was sufficient for 
> him. Alfwig slipped free of the bonds that Yajgaj had undone, rubbed 
> his wrist and ankles for a moment, stretched his legs one last time, 
> and then walked carefully across the dungeon. Even though Yajgaj had 
> extinguished the torches, after two months, there was not a crevice 
> in the dungeons that Alfwig didn't know as intimately as his own heart.
> 
> The door was unlocked and beyond he saw light at the top of the 
> stairs. Only a single lantern, but it was enough to make the man's 
> eyes wince. Alfwig shadowed his eyes with his forearm as he climbed 
> the steps softly and carefully, listening for the sounds of anyone 
> approaching. The castle was silent, and now out of the dungeons he 
> couldn't even hear the distant combat.
> 
> At the first landing he saw the lantern hanging from the wall 
> overlooking a sleeping cot covered in furs suitable to a Lutin. A 
> pair of chests rested against the back wall. Alfwig found both of 
> them unlatched. Fresh clothes suited to his frame were tucked into 
> one, while good leather armor had been carefully arrayed in the 
> second. He lifted the armor to his nose and smiled faintly. Crisp and 
> with the familiar scent of the oil he'd used while working in Ture's 
> tanning shop. This was indeed the armor he had fashioned for himself 
> a few months ago as he'd looked forward to the day that he would help 
> his people be free of the tyrants that had unmanned them.
> 
> He stripped out of his dungeon rags, able to rip the cloth from his 
> chest and legs rather than both to take the time to remove them. 
> Then, he pulled on the fresh cloths and delighted in how good a fit 
> they were. Yajgaj had clearly studied him well in preparation for 
> this day. How long had that Lutin been planning to betray Calephas 
> and Gmork, and why do so only now?
> 
> Once he dressed, Alfwig donned the armor and stretched it to make 
> sure it was still flexible. He then searched for his sword, but 
> neither was there even a dagger in the trunks, nor was there a sword 
> anywhere near them. He finally found his blade beneath the cot just 
> as Yajgaj had promised. A small covered platter of bread and cheese 
> was waiting for him. There was only enough for a few bites so he 
> quickly chewed both.
> 
> His sword had been freshly oiled and sharpened as if it had been done 
> by a weaponsmith of Arabarb. Yajgaj surprised him anew. He swung the 
> sword a few times, savoring the feel of a blade in his hand again. 
> Alfwig smiled in satisfaction, and then started up the stairs. He 
> knew the path to Calephas's laboratory; he'd been brought there often 
> enough. This would be the last time he ever walked that dark corridor 
> that smelled of death.
> 
> "Lhindesaeg," he murmured under his breath when he reached the top of 
> the landing, "I'm coming."
> 
> ----------
> 
> At the end of a long corridor at the very bottom of the castle, two 
> levels down from the laboratory, was a solid black iron door. The 
> only one who ever came to this door was Baron Garadan Calephas. And 
> so it was now, accompanied by the tiger Weaker, that Calephas came to 
> it one last time. He threw the heavy latch and pushed the door out 
> into the crisp air and the small dock beneath the castle. The yawl 
> stretched against the stone pier, the river slowly moving past here, 
> but still strong enough to easily carry them out into the main 
> current and sweep them past the city within minutes.
> 
> The Baron smiled in relief. He had hoped he would not have to pass 
> any of the soldiers, especially the Lutins and most especially any of 
> Gmork's pups along the way from his laboratory. He'd seen not a soul 
> and his sword remained unused in its scabbard at his side. He glanced 
> at the tiger carrying the chest with his potions and gestured for him 
> to go through. "Set them on the ship and haul in the anchor. I'll 
> ready the mizzen and then we'll cast off."
> 
> Weaker nodded mutely, climbed down the stone steps to the wharf and 
> then over the gunwale near the bow. Calephas watched him set the 
> chest in the little niche between either side of the fo'c'sle before 
> turning to secure the iron door. It took both of his arms to swing it 
> shut. A large iron bar was attached the stone wall next to the door. 
> It was free of rust only because the Baron came here and treated it 
> with his alchemical concoctions at least once a week even in bleakest 
> winter. No amount of soldiers would batter down this door. Gmork 
> could do it, but Gmork would be busy defending the castle from the 
> idiots in the Resistance.
> 
> Calephas laughed to himself as he thought on it. Let them fight. In 
> an hour he would be far downriver and by the evening his potions 
> would be ready. Come the morning he could stretch majestic wings and 
> fly wherever he wished to go, a mighty wyrm at last.
> 
> How many of his enemies had sought to destroy him over the long 
> years? His rivals in the Midlands had driven him into exile, but he 
> had ended up conquering Arabarb with Nasoj's help to gain a land even 
> vaster than the one his birthright had provided him. Two years ago 
> he'd been given the task of preparing a mountain assault upon the 
> northwestern edge of Metamor Valley. The Keepers had driven him back 
> and slaughtered his men, but not before his spies had found paths 
> through the forests that could help Nasoj's armies march straight to 
> Metamor without the fools in Hareford or the Glen any the wiser.
> 
> And how well he remembered that attack the previous winter. 
> Everything had seemed to go according to plan at first, that was, 
> until one of Nasoj's divisions decided to ransack the Glen as they 
> passed. The Glenners had found his encampment despite the winter's 
> grip and a betrayal from within his own rank had handed him over to 
> them. How he longed for the day he could feast on Andrig and 
> Gaerwog's flesh. The thought of ripping their bodies to pieces with 
> serrated teeth and cooking their flesh with his very breath brought 
> an icy thrill that made him shiver as he crossed the pier to the aft 
> of the yawl and climbed aboard.
> 
> Even though the Glenners had captured him, he had still escaped and 
> while leading the remnants of his army north, led those overrated 
> Long Scouts into a trap that very nearly decimated them. A magical 
> artiface alone had saved them, one that Nasoj had long sought vainly.
> 
> And of course, Calephas could not forget his alliance with Lilith and 
> the gift of the draconian potions. From every defeat he grew 
> stronger. And now he would never need to fear defeat again.
> 
> He laughed to himself as he pondered all of these events, hands 
> carefully readying the mizzen mast. He was so wrapped up in his joy 
> that he didn't even bother watching Weaker haul in the anchor. The 
> tiger stood staring at the anchor chain and crank for several long 
> seconds before bending over the side and grabbing the heavy chain in 
> his paws and lifting it up with his own remarkable strength. His lips 
> curled back with each pull revealing sharp fangs and a long raspy 
> tongue. Golden eyes narrowed as the anchor, a massive rusted piece of 
> metal that weighed at least twenty-five stone, emerged above the 
> surface of the water and clunked against the side of the ship. This 
> he grabbed and hauled over the gunwale along with the chain, and held 
> in his paws as if it were a holy object.
> 
> Calephas, finished with the mizzen, moved to the port to undo the 
> ropes lashed to the pier when he noticed Weaker standing next to 
> fo'c'sle with the anchor in his paws. "Weaker, what are you doing?"
> 
> The tiger glanced at him and his lips curled in a snarl. "Wicked."
> 
> His hand reached for his sword and his voice deepened with the 
> authority that he had once used to break this tiger. "What did you 
> say to me, slave?"
> 
> The tiger lifted the anchor a little higher, the chain clinking as it 
> dragged across the wood of the yawl. His voice hissed with predatory 
> exhilaration. "My name is Wicked!" With a heave he drove the anchor 
> down into the chest at his feet. The wood cracked and splintered, and 
> the three exquisite bottles with his precious potion shattered and 
> spilled their contents across the deck.
> 
> "No!" Calephas shouted in fierce rage. His sword leaped into his hand 
> as he dashed across the short distance. He swung the blade at the 
> tiger's side, but the Keeper swung the anchor up to meet the blade. 
> He was faster than Calephas had imagined carrying so heavy a weight, 
> as he deftly parried blow after blow from the heavy sword. Calephas 
> had to yank his sword back each time to keep the blade from snapping 
> against the anchor.
> 
> The tiger's eyes were fierce with triumph as he stepped to the right, 
> moving slowly around the baron. Calephas felt only rage and hate for 
> this traitorous slave. The loss of the potions was devastating, but 
> he knew enough now that he could create them anew. It would take 
> months, but he would do it. First this tiger would die.
> 
> His voice was ever one of his weapons. "You little shit! How dare you 
> try to stop me from striking you! You are nothing without me, Weaker. 
> You are a weakling without me. You are dust! An ant! Dung! I am your 
> master! I am your god, Weaker. Drop that anchor and face my wrath as 
> you ought! I am your god!"
> 
> Weaker smiled at him and kept turning to the side. He never lashed 
> out with the anchor, only deflected Calephas's sword blows. All the 
> baron needed was for this foolish Keeper to try to strike him once 
> and it would be over. No matter how fast he could move that heavy 
> weight, Calephas could slip through his attack. His sword had already 
> nicked the tiger in the upper arms three times and the trails of 
> blood were staining his orange and black fur as they dripped down to 
> join the mess of purple and gray smearing the deck.
> 
> And then, after the tiger was finally back on the gunwale side, he 
> shifted to his right with the anchor and Calephas drove home in the 
> slight window between his arm and chest. The blade sank deep into his 
> flesh, piercing just beneath his lung. Blood spurted along the haft 
> of his sword and the tiger's expression of delight became blank with pain..
> 
> "Weaker," Calephas sneered as he slid the blade further into the 
> tiger's belly, curving it as he drew it back out. Another moment and 
> the craven beast's innards would spill across the deck.
> 
> But the tiger lowered his right arm and grabbed the chain dangling 
> from the end of the anchor and grinned. "More Wicked," he said with a 
> vicious hiss before he turned and threw the anchor over the gunwale.
> 
> The chain which had been dragged along as the tiger had circled him 
> snapped into the air, caught Calephas behind the back and shoved him 
> into the tiger's chest, the sword driving completely through the 
> tiger's middle as the breath was forced from his lungs. Calephas 
> tried to scream as he clawed at his slave's shoulders to break free 
> before the sinking anchor vaulted them from their feet and carried 
> them both down into the water tangled in the heavy chain.
> 
> The yawl rocked back and forth for a moment after they disappeared. 
> The water rippled with the current that babbled briskly in the sudden
> silence.
> 
> 
> ----------
> 
> May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love,
> 
> Charles Matthias
> 
> 
> 
> 
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