AmongHeroes

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

Hello all,
Sorry I have been silent for awhile, but work has been a big vacuum on my time lately. Anyway, thanks for some great posts and I soon will have my own to add so we can keep moving. Thanks for the patience with your poor, hapless GM.

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

Just PMed you the last part, Dot.

Wonderful post, Grainy! You always set the bar so very high .

Tides of Dusk: A Piratical Tale of Fantasy

Thomas listened with growing curiosity as Jax spoke of the inquiry in lieu of the First Mate, who stood just beyond looking like a pretty blowfish that had drawn in too much water. With each new detail added by the sea artist, Thomas’ brows rose ever higher, along with his inquisitive smirk, until it appeared he may pull himself from the deck by the sheer will of his eyebrows.

Of course, he thought, Antonia would have something like this afoot. This could perhaps be just the blessing we need, as our most recent quandary deals apparently with those who will most certainly be attending this soirée.

He nodded slowly when Jax had finished, and his face brightened with promise. “This is a most opportune proposition, Mr. Xander, and I am most certainly going to attend,” Thomas smiled as he spoke the helmsman’s formal name. “You see, Dujo has just informed me of a plot that is being played out even now that has perfectly aligned with your request.”

Thomas stepped forward and lowered his voice for both the First Mate and Jax. “Apparently, the Crimson Feather put to sea this morning with intentions upon our floundered Spanish galleon. What’s more is that the information was granted to the scurrilous bastards by someone from Government House. A most troubling turn of events, since we have been laboring under the assumption that the monopoly on that news was ours.”

“This party should allow us to hopefully glean more word on the matter, and I want each of you to keep your ears keenly open for talk of such. The damn Feather is already ahead of us in this game.”

Thomas finished his words with a scowl as he thought of the rival ship. He looked back to the pair before him, and his expression shifted slightly. The First Mate’s apparent discomfiture, coupled with Jax’s own impish bearing was mixing in the fetid air, and even with his mind upon the matters of the ship, Thomas couldn’t help but notice the strange alchemy.

His copper eyes moved back and forth between them, and a jocular thought came to his mind. It was a gut feeling, but of all the seriousness that had beleaguered the day thus far, it came as a welcome opportunity.

“Jax,” he began, “if you need accompaniment for this evening, I know a lady with a most agreeable countenance and engaging manner that I am certain would relish the company of a dashing, intrepid rascal such as yourself.”

Thomas bowed forward slightly, his brow arching along with a curious smile that teased the corners of his mouth. He couldn’t hide the twinkle of his eyes as he looked to the helmsman, determined to steer his gaze away from the First Mate.

“Shall I inquire after her on your behalf?”

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

Well all, how we doing? Impending posts anyone?

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

What Igraine said! Great to have you with us again, Serge. Great posts all around, and hopefully more soon to come.

Dot, did you get my PM with the response for Aislinn? I know it was late last night when I sent it, just wanted to make sure .

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

Zakhar found himself surrounded by an icy knife of frigid air. Around him rose an expansive granite cavern, its craggy surface illuminated dimly in a glacial blue. At his feet were smooth stones that sloped gently to the edges of a small frozen lake, of which the surface reflected as black obsidian. Of sound, nothing but the hollow echo of nothingness reached Zakhar’s ears.

His body set to shivering. Not from the cold, but from the pair of eyes that stared silently back at him. They were eyes of total darkness, like pools of oil in a dark room. None of the ghostly light that illuminated the rest of the cavern reflected in those eyes, as if they sucked it from the very air around them.

The eyes were also massive; set wide apart some twenty feet into the slate-gray face of a giant wolf. Zakhar stood rooted in place, his body shaking ever more violently as his gaze continued to take in the creature that affixed him with its ebony watch. He followed the line of the muzzle down to the large nose, cross-hatched with old cuts and puckered pink scars. The wolf’s mouth was opened into a wide and terrifying maw which was affixed agape by a sword of monumental size, its point pressing into the wolf’s upper gums, while the hilt dug into the space between the lower fangs. Dark rivulets of crimson blood flowed around the weapon, ran down the wolf’s jaw, and across the stony shore before oozing into the frozen black lake.

Continuing back along the wolf’s body, Zakhar say the faint glimmer of a gold chain that wrapped itself tightly against the massive creature’s flesh, and continued on to anchor around a boulder that seemed large enough to be the very root of a mountain.

Zakhar’s observation was interrupted by a loud snort of air from the great wolf’s nostrils. So forceful was the blast that Zakhar had to take a step back to steady himself from falling. As he did, he immediately fell to his knees, bending his white head forward, and pinning back his ears in utter submission.

For a long moment the werewolf knelt there, not daring to look up into the inky eyes of the god-wolf.

Rise, came a voice, thick, forceful, and otherworldly inside of Zakhar’s mind.

The voice in his head startled him, and an involuntary whimper passed Zakhar’s lips as he lifted his head. From his vantage point, the missing front canine tooth of the god-wolf was conspicuous, and a shiver of recognition rippled across Zakar’s white fur.

Upon quaking legs, Zakhar stood. As he did so, he raised his hands, opening the fingers to present the Solas na gelaí to its rightful owner.

Another snort of air came from the god-wolf, and his black eyes widened in surprise. Though the curved piece of bone had shrunk from the time it had been removed, there was no mistaking it. A ripple of triumph washed over the gray coat like a tidal wave, and the cave rumbled with the movement.

Release me! Release me, child!

Zakhar recoiled once more as the voice filled his mind. He did not speak a reply, not trusting his voice in the presence of the Rökkr. Instead he merely bowed his head, and began to walk unsteady steps along the lake shore, towards the wolf’s body, and the golden chain that encircled it.

From the corner of his eye, Zakhar watched the rippling of muscle from beneath the gray fur, and he saw the tremble of flesh with each beat of the god-wolf’s heart. Never in all his life had he felt so small, so insignificant, so totally powerless and afraid.

When he reached the chain, Zakhar stopped. He stood there, shivering with his tail tucked between his legs. With every ounce of his courage, Zakhar willed his hands to move. He reached up, and in one hand he grasped the illustrious golden chain, and in the other he held the tooth of the god-wolf.

As he brought the tooth closer to the chain, he seemed to fight an invisible force, one that tried to repel the approach of the fateful piece of bone. Zakhar strained against this force, his jaws clamping with exertion. He could not fail the god-wolf, not now, not so very close.

With a final mighty effort, Zakhar roared, and thrust the tooth against the chain. Instantly a loud crack echoed in the cavern, and Zakhar was flung backward, skittering upon the surface of the frozen obsidian lake.

Dazed and disoriented, Zakhar looked back to see what was happening, and through the haze of his fuddled mind, he was astounded. The golden chain was unraveling, like so much wispy thread, it fell from about the god-wolf’s body. Another mighty crack of thunder filled the air, and Zakhar shifted to see the sword splinter and shatter within the god-wolf’s mouth.

The whole cavern began to quake then. With shuddering deftness, the god-wolf lifted himself from his stony bed, and bucked against the boulder that had held him. With a lift of his massive head, his black eyes closed just as an ear-splitting howl erupted from his jaws.

Fenris was free.

Tides of Dusk: A Piratical Tale of Fantasy

Thomas listened to Dujo without interruption. The quartermaster did not know the details of the voyage that they were about to undertake, but he was shrewd enough to realize a threat when he heard one. The Crimson Feather’s sudden departure had been no coincidence, and the involvement of the Governor’s house in the whole matter bode of more ill tidings. There was little Thomas could do now, however. He would not set out half-cocked, no matter the promised prize, and so he had little option but to stay the course. The men of the Feather were as stupid as they were brash, though that notion in and of itself did little to settle Thomas’ mind.

The voice of the helmsman from behind him held Thomas’ response to Dujo. He turned fractionally to Jax, and waved the quartermaster away. With a frown, Dujo nodded and disappeared down the steps to the decks below.

“A request?” Thomas said, his face devoid of the troubling ides of his previous conversation.

He turned fully to both Jax and Nicolette, and an inquisitive smile came to his face. Thomas moved his eyes between the strange pair, and his brow raised.

“How can I be of service?”

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

Reginald Hoyle

Whatever the vampiress had done to him had cut through the fog of pain, and had allowed Reginald Hoyle to come into the present. The trip upon Atticus’ back had been rough, but at least now, as he was being pulled across the floor, he could see Aislinn, Victoria, Thad, and Archibald. The shade gate ahead of them was an ethereal beacon of safety, and for the first time since this whole ordeal had begun, Hoyle felt like they would all make it out.

That notion was shattered almost as quickly as it had come into his mind. The magic of Thad had revealed the white wolf, and before a cry of warning could pass his lips, the assassin’s sword was already buried into Aislinn’s back.

“No!” The old wolf’s cry of warning turned to one of terror, rage, and disbelief.

With a burst of strength, Hoyle thrust up with his good leg, and batted Atticus’ grip away with a black-clawed hand. He stumbled towards the crumpled forms of Aislinn and Veti. He watched with impotent rage as the white wolf disappeared through the shade gate, and he cried out as he collapsed upon leaden feet.

As he lay there, tears began to stream down his muzzle, pooling upon the stone floor. The great old wolf was an island then, a man lost in his own ocean of despair as life drained from Aislinn, and clung only barely to Veti. He watched as the sorcerer closed his sister’s eyes, and ministered to his love.

Lost to his senses was the curse of the wight, the flashing form of the vampiress, and the cacophony of all the other responses to the white wolf’s handiwork. For a moment lost in time, Reginald Hoyle only knew the depths of a heart riven with guilt, hatred, and misery. He was the last of them. The last of the Teachglach Mac Tire. The last of the Hoyles.

Wracked with silent sobs, he rolled onto his back, and with the greatest of breaths he howled. With all his might he howled, and for the first time in all the centuries of his life he howled with the promise of vengeance.

---

Atticus

Before he knew what was happening Reginald Hoyle had forced himself from his grasp. Atticus spun about to follow the werewolf, and as he did he saw what had spurned Hoyle forward. The white wolf was just pulling the blade from Aislinn and Veti. He comprehended what was happening, but it all happened so fast that his realization translated only to stunned silence for the bare seconds it took for the white wolf to flee.

Instinctively, Atticus’ wings opened to give chase as the assassin fled through the shade gate, and he came more to his senses. His infernal eyes caught the blur of Siya disappearing into the gate after that attacker, and in that moment of confusion, Atticus spirit was buoyed. If anyone could catch the bastard now, it was her. He wanted to follow the vampire immediately, but he was stayed by the gravity of Veti’s wounds, and the obvious aftermath of Aislinn Hoyle’s death. The eerie and spirit-splitting howl of Reginald Hoyle reminded him as well that the old wolf himself still needed tending to. For now, he would have to trust that Siya could take care of herself.

Atticus thought to move to Reginald’s aid, but Lord Bain was already at his ailing friend’s side. The ancient vampire held up a hand to the incubus.

“Through the gate, all of you,” Bain said, loud enough for all to hear. “Retrieve the tooth, and stop Ragnarök. I will stay with Hoyle. We will join you when we can. Go!”

A protest was the first thing to form on Atticus’ lips, and for an instant he caught the eye of Thad. The man held Veti protectively in his arms, and though she was still in the clutches of pain, he could see that death was not going to take her this day. He closed his mouth. Atticus knew Bain was right; they had to press onward. The enemy now had the upper hand, and time was against them.

With a grim set to his jaw, Atticus turned to the others. “Let’s go.”

His words were punctuated by a series of tremors from the battle raging above. Clouds of dust rained down from the low ceiling. Nodding to Thad, Atticus leapt forward and thrust into flight with a great beat of his wings. In an instant he was through the shade gate, trusting that the others would be close on his heels.

As he glided instantaneously through the void, and onto the other side of the gate, Atticus was surprised. The stone circle of Ardgroom, Ireland--the place where this tragic tale had begun--was the last place he expected to emerge.

The sight of Siya standing amidst the circle was a welcome relief however, and he alighted beside the enraged little vampire.

“Are you alright?” He said, his burning eyes scanning through the darkness for any injury upon her body. Seeing nothing obviously wrong, he added, “Bain instructed us through the gate, and as far as I can tell, Veti should be fine. Thad came through for her, once again.”

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

Have a wonderful time Panda, and we'll see you when we see you. There have been wonderful posts the last couple of days. Such exciting stuff for a GM to read.

How is everyone today, hmmm? Looking forward to a good weekend I hope. I have nothing planned myself other than a friend's birthday party to attend, and of course work.

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

DotCom said
I got no such crumb, so I shall post later. I hope I'm not holding anything up. And since Siya's already gone through the gate (I did THE MOST giggling at your post, LT), I think I'll send Daisy after Aislinn, if that's alright, Heroes?

Sorry I missed this earlier, Dot. Work and such are the worst...Anyway, yeah I very much like this idea. I say run with it!