[Mkguild] Divine Travails of Rats - Pars V. Ascensum (f)

[C. Matthias]

I figured you'd like that scene, Misha!!  You can 
bet King Pelaeth will know how to defend against 
that move in an hour or two. ;-)

May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love,

Charles Matthias

At 05:31 PM 7/12/2015, christian okane wrote:
>Very cool fight scene.
>
>    Never mess with a Taur!
>
>    Chris
>
>From: mkguild-bounces at lists.integral.org 
>[mailto:mkguild-bounces at lists.integral.org] On Behalf Of C. Matthias
>Sent: Wednesday, May 27, 2015 5:32 PM
>To: Metamor Keep
>Subject: [Mkguild] Divine Travails of Rats - Pars V. Ascensum (f)
>
>Metamor Keep: Divine Travails of Rats
>by Charles Matthias and Ryx
>
>Pars V: Ascensum
>
>(f)
>
>
>Wednesday, June 23, 724 CR - Morning
>
>
>In the shadows below the stands Charlie found 
>the King's retinue standing about the stables in 
>a rough circle around Pelaeth, now in his full 
>armor, and the skunk mage Murikeer. While the 
>steppes king held out his steel and black sword 
>the skunk traced the tips of his fingers lightly 
>along the blade, head bowed in concentration. 
>After a few moments he raised his hands and his one-eyed gaze.
>
>“It is done, your Majesty. For the next handful 
>of hours your mighty weapon will harm none, 
>beyond the bruise of its weight knocking them on 
>their rump.” The skunk smiled warmly. Charlie 
>rather doubted, having seen Goldmark, that even 
>that sizable blade would sit him on his rump. 
>Pelaeth raised his weapon and gazed upon it 
>dubiously, for there was nothing to indicate that the mage had done anything.
>
>The group gathered as, above, they could hear 
>the muffled shout of the crier calling forth the 
>next combatants. Murikeer passed Charlie as he 
>left, catching the youth's quizzical gaze. The 
>magic of making weapons safe was usually left to 
>lower ranked mages. “It's big, it's ancient, and 
>a family heirloom,” the skunk offered while 
>Horvig saw to the last adjustments to the King's 
>intimidating wolf armor. “I thought it best to 
>make a show of having Thomas' own court mage do the work.”
>
>“Just because its size, hmm?” Charlie asked laconically.
>
>Murikeer laughed brightly. “I would expect that 
>your father might have something to say about 
>comparing swords among men, but, well...” He 
>leaned in closer and said in a lower voice, “It 
>is a strange metal, that black, and did not take 
>easily to magical blunting; perhaps it was 
>safest that I tend this task in the first place. 
>And...” he leaned back and resumed his usual 
>voice, “perhaps it is best we retired and watch 
>how he uses it.” His remaining eye glinted in 
>the muted light as he slipped past the rat.
>
>Charlie watched him go while the King's 
>retainers fell in behind him and they moved as a 
>well-coordinated group toward the exit of the 
>stables; men-at-arms leading and bracketing, 
>King Pelaeth and Horving shoulder to shoulder, 
>squires bringing up the rear carrying the King's 
>banner. Since there was no mounted component of 
>the contest of foot no grooms or steeds were 
>needed, though the golden-hued steppes steeds 
>looked on with intelligent curiosity from their corral behind the stands.
>
>“Your Majesty,” Charlie called, walking swiftly 
>to fall in alongside the group, though outside 
>the perimeter defined by the alter men-at-arms. 
>“May I walk with you to the field?”
>
>“Ah, young Charlie, aye! Come, come, let us 
>walk.” Peleath held out an inviting arm, the 
>open visor of his helm tilting the snarling wolf 
>visage skyward. The guards let Charlie slip 
>through them to fall into step beside the 
>steppes King. “Tell me, lad, what be this ill 
>will thou didst show the baron yesterday? His is thy blood, am I mistaken?”
>
>Charlie winced at the blunt, direct question, 
>ears and whiskers drooping for a moment. “It 
>is... ahh, your lordship, it is not so much bad 
>blood as... the confusion of youth.” He 
>shrugged. At the King's opposite shoulder Horvig 
>kept his gaze forward, only turning his head 
>enough to scan the surrounding crowds for 
>possible problems. “My sire and my father are 
>fair friends, but... the issue of my adoption weighs heavily upon my heart.”
>
>Pelaeth nodded his head slowly, the polished 
>silver of the snarling wolf atop his head 
>glinting in the sun. “Ahh, aye. Thou dost know 
>both sire and father and the why of the choice 
>doth rear its ugly head to chew upon thy spirit.”
>
>“Yes, Majesty,” Charlie admitted. Ahead the 
>pavilion at the end of the tournament field came 
>into view around the brightly colored awnings 
>and tents of other families and shops. “Moreso of recent than in the past.”
>
>“Thou art upon the cusp of true manhood, lad, 
>and hath a mighty name upon thy shoulder to 
>account for thy noble station. But thy blood be 
>of lesser station, and thou feel unworthy of the 
>title given by thy adoptive father? He has blood 
>of his own, unless the winsome red-furred lass 
>be another so taken into thy House?”
>
>Charlie snorted at the thought of the very 
>human, very down-to-earth King, would look at 
>his wolfish sister as 'winsome'. It took another 
>wolf to see that, or one well used to the 
>variety that was Metamor's animorphed 
>population. “No, Majesty, she is truly of his lineage, whereas I am not.”
>
>At the pavilion Horvig and the men-at-arms 
>stopped, while the King continued onto the 
>tournament field. “Thou art lineage of the title 
>given, lad. Count thyself fortunate that thou 
>can know thy sire and dam as well, and by all 
>appearances before thou didst trounce him, art 
>well loved there.” The broad shoulders rose and 
>fell beneath the upturned wolf's snarl. “Be it 
>for whatever cause, it doth appear just to my 
>outlander eyes. Satisfy thyself for having two 
>families that offer their love. Most hath not 
>e'en one. My own brother didst leave my family 
>to join the Magyars many years ago. He hath 
>become great amongst them, bosom friend to the 
>scarred mage in my retinue, and between him, yon 
>mage, and others of their ilk, hath done great 
>deeds to heal the worst of their people that 
>there might be peace on the steppes. Their band, 
>thou dost see, hast not stolen a single mite in 
>a dozen years.” The King paused and then 
>laughed. “Well, at least not without returning 
>said mite with a stern warning to careless 
>townfolk on how to keep their wares!”
>
>Charlie now regretted his foolishness from 
>yesterday for a new reason as it had kept him 
>from learning more of this foreign king and the 
>many fascinating stories he could tell. “I wish 
>I could hear that story, your Majesty. Do you ever see your brother again?”
>
>“Every time their band returns to Cheskych. And 
>a very happy time it be for all in our 
>families.” With that the king raised his 
>gauntleted fist and slapped down the visor of 
>his helm. Abruptly the steppelands human became 
>a snarling silver and steel beast, as much wolf 
>as the Keepers of that species standing at the 
>rail of the tournament field cheering him on.
>
>Charlie accompanied the King out onto the 
>tournament field, shoulder to shoulder, and none 
>said aught of his unexpected presence. Upon 
>reaching the center of the field Charlie looked 
>up at the Marshal of the Field at his podium. 
>The man looked down at Charlie and offered 
>nothing more than a nod to acknowledge him. 
>Turning, the rat made his way toward the far end 
>of the field from where he had entered, 
>approaching Goldmark as he went. The rat 'taur 
>stood nearly two feet taller than he did, taller 
>than the King himself, and looked at Charlie 
>with both surprise and trepidation. In his hands 
>he carried a staff as thick and stout as a wagon tongue, and almost as long.
>
>“Why'd you let him stand in for you?” The rat, 
>garbed in nothing heavier than minimally tooled 
>boiled leather armor, looked past Charlie to the 
>impressive – and daunting – human in his heavy armor and snarling wolf helm.
>
>“Go easy on him, Goldmark. You're bigger than he 
>is, and heavier. You have an extra set of hands, 
>too,” Charlie chided as they drew abreast, 
>tilting his gaze briefly down at the 'taur's 
>large forepaws. Like all rats they were quite 
>flexible, intended for pouncing and holding or 
>clawing at walls. Had they thumbs they would 
>have been proper hands. “Just... think like a 
>rat, not a soldier. He'll never expect it.”
>
>Goldmark chittered apprehensively and clutched 
>his huge staff. “Go easy on him, he says,” the 
>frightened rat quavered, continuing onto the 
>field while Charlie turned toward the stands nearby. “But what about me?”
>
>Walking along the inside of the rails defining 
>the tournament field Charlie made his way to the 
>front of the shaded stands set aside for the use 
>of the aristocracy and lower nobility. House 
>Matthias had a small section cordoned off and, 
>at that moment, they were crowded with Matthias 
>rats young and old. The Baron and Baroness sat 
>in the center, just high enough to see above the 
>common folk standing in the narrow space between 
>the stands and the railing. Charlie ducked under 
>the uppermost rail and the commoners quickly parted to let him through.
>
>Mounting the stands he smiled at the gathered 
>mob of Matthias and the retainers seated with 
>them, but Erick's scowl spoke volumes. His 
>brother and littermate was clearly still 
>displeased with his actions the day before and 
>Charlie did not blame him at all. Charles and 
>Kimberly, however, smiled and waved him to come 
>join them. Charles moved over a seat so that his son could sit between them.
>
>“Hi Mom, Dad,” Charlie said, pausing to lean 
>down and give the Lady Kimberly a warm hug. “I 
>saw that willow switch, Mom. Thank you for sparing me.”
>
>Kimberly tittered and wagged a finger at him, 
>only to produce the same willow branch he had 
>seen in their pavilion earlier. It had been 
>propped against the side of her seat where he 
>could not see it when he approached. “Oh, I'm 
>still more than willing,” she chided, lightly 
>tapping his hip with it. With a laugh Charlie sat down.
>
>“You and Misanthe both, Mom, never fear. I may 
>not escape its application, even yet.”
>
>“Then behave,” Charles groused humorously as the 
>Marshal of the Tournament took his podium to 
>look down at Goldmark and King Pelaeth.
>
>“What brings you, son?” Charles asked in a quiet 
>aside while the two combatants shook hands. In 
>his current 'taur shape, Goldmark's huge hand engulfed the human's.
>
>“Politics.”
>
>Charles turned his attention to his son with a 
>quirk of his ears and whiskers. “Politics?”
>
>Charlie shifted his attended as well, nodding. 
>“All witnessed what transpired yesterday, so 
>it's expected that the rumors of friction in the 
>Matthias clan will be spreading rampantly.” 
>Leaning back in his chair, his tail curling 
>about the legs beneath, Charlie rested his hands 
>in his lap. “It's best to put the rumors to rest 
>before they become problematic, let them see 
>that there is no acrimony between you and I, or 
>with the family.” He tipped his chin toward 
>Erick, who had turned his irritated scowl back 
>toward the field. “Though I have much work ahead 
>of me to assuage the anger of my siblings.”
>
>“And your parents, young man,” Kimberly offered, 
>though with a smile. Charlie bobbed his head to 
>that and reached over to set his hand upon his mother's.
>
>“With you two most importantly, yes, mother.”
>
>“Hear ye, hear ye! Before us stand the final 
>combatants of the Summer Tourney, to vie for the 
>Crown!” A hearty cheer rose up from the crowd 
>until the Marshal held a hand up for some 
>restraint so he could continue. “His lordship, 
>the young Sutt heir, has chosen to stand out for 
>reasons of Honor. In his place the King of the 
>Steppes, Pelaeth of Vysehrad, has graciously 
>stepped in. Though he is a stranger to our 
>lands, he is no stranger to contests of arms, 
>and we of Metamor will show him our best.”
>
>A snicker went through the crowd at that, for 
>Goldmark was far from the best warrior Metamor 
>had to offer. Nor, to be truthful, was he the 
>worst, Charlie had to admit. He would not have 
>wanted to face the rat 'taur with his daunting 
>wagon tongue cudgel. While the crowd roared 
>another hearty, deafening cheer Charlie leaned toward his sire.
>
>“Are you well?” Charlie touched a hand to his 
>own breast as he spoke over the tumult. His sire 
>had donned a high collar and long sleeves so 
>that no suggestion of any of his scars could be seen.
>
>“I would have fared better without the 
>trouncing, son, but I fare well enough for all 
>that,” Charles admitted with a warm smile. “Your sleep was peaceful?”
>
>“For the nonce, though I have not braced Her, 
>yet.” Meaning Nocturna, whom he had carefully 
>avoided since their last fractious meeting.
>
>“I do not envy you that, Son. Her countenance is daunting.”
>
>“At times.” Charlie turned his attention to the 
>field as rat and human separated and moved to 
>their respective posts in preparation for the 
>Marshal's flag to begin. Peleath drew the huge 
>black-streaked steel blade from its scabbard 
>upon his back and made a few practice swings 
>with the huge thing easily in one hand. Goldmark 
>clutched his stave fearfully and looked on, his 
>long tail lashing side to side in agitation.
>
>Raising one arm the Marshal spared each of them 
>a glance and swept the pennant he held in one 
>hand downward. Pelaeth let out a mighty roar and 
>launched himself across the intervening distance 
>at a sprint, sword held high over one shoulder 
>with both hands. Goldmark fell back a pace, 
>visibly steeled himself, and met the clearly 
>telegraphed sweep of the mighty sword with his stave.
>
>The reverberating crack of sword meeting stout 
>wood rent the expectant silence like a 
>thunderclap but the sword was halted in its 
>swing. Peleath let it rebound and danced to one 
>side smoothly to dodge the downward sweep that 
>Goldmark offered in riposte. The crowd let out a 
>gasping cheer and lapsed into a hushed silence as the two squared off again.
>
>Goldmark certainly had reach on the King with 
>his massive weapon, keeping the feints of his 
>blade well away from himself with short sweeps, 
>each time wood and blade coming together with 
>the sound of a giant chopping trees. The stave 
>was certainly stout enough to weather the abuse 
>without snapping as a normal quarterstaff may 
>have, but the heavy swings made the entire 'taur's body shudder.
>
>“He may last him on stamina alone,” Charles 
>opined as the two circled, each looking for an 
>opening to score a hit. Goldmakr was not slow on 
>the parries but he could not follow up his 
>blocks with any strikes of his own for the human 
>danced out of reach. “With all of that armor on 
>I daresay the King is at a disadvantage.”
>
>“With that sword only adding to the exertion,” 
>Charlie added, attention focused upon the 
>battle. “But he's a warrior born and raised to 
>the weight of sword and armor, just as I have 
>been. I can carry both against Bryn for almost 
>as long as he had strength to counter me, and 
>he's got size and strength and stamina on me.”
>
>“How do you ever win, then?”
>
>“Prick him like a mosquito until he loses a bit 
>of his strength, just as I hope Goldmark can do.”
>
>But the rat had other ideas, for the King was 
>pressing him inexorably back. Due to the size of 
>the 'taur he could not circle effectively so he 
>simply pressed directly into the rat's wooden 
>defense, whacking away at the stave sending 
>splinters flying. The impacts were telling and, 
>after over a minute of repeated strikes, the 
>vibrations so numbed Goldmark's grip that he dropped the staff at his feet.
>
>Pelaeth barked a victorious word and waded in, 
>but Goldmark swept the stave up in his forepaws, 
>which did have some manner of grasping ability, 
>and reared up to his full height. Towering 
>almost twice the height of the human, with the 
>staff grasped before him, he strode awkwardly 
>forward bringing the King up short. The rat 
>dropped down and leaned his upper body forward, 
>scoring a quick swat at the snarling visage of 
>the steel wolf's helm before Pelaeth could 
>retreat. Taking a couple of quick strides, 
>dragging the stave with his forepaws, Goldmark reared up again.
>
>And charged forward upon his rear paws with the 
>awkward gait of a charger en'pesade, forcing 
>Pelaeth back at a swift trot, his sword out to 
>parry the awkward swings of the staff. The crowd 
>roared its approval and stood, the Matthias clan 
>joining in. Goldmark continued to press his 
>charge forward with short steps and hops, quickly outpacing the King's retreat.
>
>And then he simply fell forward, his forelegs 
>and save bearing the sword down while his hands 
>came down upon the human's shoulders. With the 
>massive 'taur's greater weight suddenly falling 
>upon him, Pelaeth lost his footing and fell 
>backward to the explosive cheer of the 
>spectators. The tumult was so unbridled Charlie 
>backed his ears and gaped in astonishment as 
>Goldmark sprawled his entire body down onto the 
>King, pinning him ignominiously to the ground. 
>He cast the stave aside before it became a bar 
>across the man's breast and used one hand to 
>swat at the awkward, ineffective swings of the 
>sword that did nothing more than slap at the barding of his barrel and flanks.
>
>Underneath him Pelaeth squirmed and kicked but 
>could not marshal enough leverage to make any of 
>his assaults effective against the bulk of beast 
>sprawled upon him like a hunting hound upon a 
>toddler. The crowd roared and, in the High Box 
>across from them, Charlie could see the entire 
>retinue of Metamor's nobility and Pelaeth's 
>sister standing at the rail looking down in awed 
>shock. Sig's jaws were open so wide a flock of 
>birds could have nested on his tongue and rented 
>out his fangs to their friends.
>
>“Oh, by Yahshua!” Charles gaped, somewhere 
>between aghast horror at the ignominy and laughter.
>
>After a long count the Marshal took up the 
>pennant and raised it above his head, calling 
>the match complete. Charlie could not have 
>expected the crowd to become any louder, but had 
>to slap his hands over his ears before the 
>roaring, whooping, howling cacophony rendered 
>him truly deaf. Noting the raised pennant 
>Goldmark raised himself to his legs and backed 
>up, extending a hand toward the King.
>
>Pelaeth slapped the hand aside irritably and 
>bounced up, pacing in circles for a moment 
>clearly in a fit of pique. The crowd slowly 
>began to quiet wondering if the visiting Kind 
>was about to become dangerous. Raising a hand 
>Pelaeth flipped the wolf visor of his helm up 
>and dropped his hands to his hips to glare at 
>Goldmark for several seconds, the wary rat watching him with concern.
>
>And then Pelaeth abruptly laughed, loud enough 
>to be heard over the susurrus of the crowd. “I 
>want him!” The King roared, striding to Goldmark 
>and slapped him loudly upon the shoulder. “Never 
>before have I been so soundly defeated! Truly, 
>the peoples of this fine Kingdom are warriors to 
>be respected!” The crowd resumed its cheer, 
>rattling the stands and kicking up a cloud of 
>dust. Grasping Goldmark's hand he raised it 
>high. “To victory! To...” He glanced at the rat 
>who muttered something. “To your champion, Goldmark!”
>
>Charlie could only laugh along with those around 
>him as the crowd took up the chant, “Goldmark, 
>Goldmark, Gold – Mark!” The Marshal waved his 
>pennant and tried to regain some semblance of 
>order but failed entirely. Even as Duke Thomas 
>and the rest from the High Box made their way 
>down onto the field the roaring acclaim 
>continued, much to Goldmark's clear chagrin. He 
>truly never expected to win, or even make it 
>beyond the first bouts, yet there he stood with 
>a foreign King holding his hand aloft to proclaim him champion.
>
>Only when Thomas raised an arm for quiet did the 
>spectators accede, falling quiet after a few 
>breaths. As the horse lord began a stirring 
>congratulatory speech, Charlie chuckled lightly 
>to himself and looked over the rest of the 
>Matthias clan – his family. His litter-sisters, 
>Bernadette and Baerle, were both seated on the 
>other side of Kimberly. Bernadette, the 
>bride-to-be, sat nearest their mother and caught 
>his glance. While Erick was angry with him, his 
>first sister appeared to harbor him no ill-will, 
>offering him a warm, whisker-filled smile in 
>return. His second sister Baerle had her eyes 
>closed and appeared to be praying her beads 
>besides so did not notice her brother's attention.
>
>His eyes returned to Erick who sat forward a row 
>and off to one side with some of their younger 
>siblings. The scowl he'd offered Charlie on his 
>brother's arrival had vanished in the thrill of 
>the surprising battle and his ears were turned 
>forward to catch every congratulatory word from 
>the Duke. If there was any in his family he 
>hated hurting more than any other it was Erick.
>
>But Charlie waited while Duke Thomas gave a 
>stirring speech congratulating not only Goldmark 
>but the winners of the other contests as well. 
>Just as Sir Dupré had been awarded the Golden 
>Lance, Duchess Alberta came down to the field, 
>and with King Pelaeth's assistance, presented 
>the Summer Crown to the overwhelmed rat 'taur. 
>Goldmak stood awkwardly with his round ears 
>jutting out to the side beneath the circlet of 
>faux leaves, berries, and golden ivy.
>
>Another round of thunderous applause, 
>hoof-stomping, hooting, and howling ensued when 
>the Duke's accolades were complete. Both his 
>wife and the foreign king made their way from 
>the field and back to the high box as Goldmark, 
>his grin triumphant, marched a victory lap 
>around the field even as laborers rushed out to 
>tend the grounds. He finally took his leave near 
>the stands where the Matthias family sat and was 
>immediately pounced by the younger rats, both 
>his own children and those of the Matthias 
>family and a few other rat families living at Metamor.
>
>----------
>
>May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love,
>
>Charles Matthias
>
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