Re: Mini-Grand 5112 [Round One: Artificer's Alley]
01-09-2013, 11:19 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Pick Yer Poison.
The moment his limbs freed themselves, Drake dropped to one knee, crossing the arm not holding his halberd across it and bowing his head down. His lips moved quickly as he muttered a prayer to Efneroe. "Blessed is thy name, unerring are thy choices, lawful is thy word. Will that my hands be steady in carrying out thy holy work..." After a few moments, he stood up again, surveying the area he'd been placed in. He was surrounded by all manner of curious items housed on shelves and in bins - while some were familiar, most were at best odd and at worst outright bizarre to him. He picked up a curious cube and pressed down on a bump he found on the side, then dropped it in surprise as soft, lilting music began to flow out of it. He quickly brought his halberd down on it, slicing it mostly in half. The music ground to a lurching halt and Drake breathed a sigh of relief - it was good to know that this sorcery was not immune to the metal of men.
As he stepped gingerly around the stores of strange objects, an uncomfortable number of which ticked and hummed quietly to themselves, he considered his situation. He was having a little trouble wrapping his head around exactly what was going on, since he only knew that he'd been abruptly placed in some kind of gladiator match. Who was behind it, and whether it was divine or arcane in origin, remained to be seen.
And what of the others? he mused to himself. Lillian had certainly looked grotesque, and, if the voice was to be trusted, she was plenty strong enough to be a threat to his homeland were she to survive. But, again, if the voice was to be trusted, she was also human on the inside. Perhaps a curse? He would have to question her about that - while staying at a safe distance, of course. He knew plenty of humans who would eagerly betray their own mothers for a few gold coins, although by his own standards they didn't qualify for the label at that point.
Professor Ada Hanmarian...she had looked unusual. Her strange clothing, her confident posture, her unladylike physique, even her utilitarian hairstyle...everything about it spoke of an exiled Amazon. Unfortunately, he was a little fuzzy on his Amazon background - it had been nearly a year since he'd tried to hunt down an abnormally warlike gang of them - and was unable to recall the usual reasons for exile. Perhaps it had something to with her enchanted gauntlet? He made a mental note to treat her with a warrior's respect - and to give her a warrior's death, if it came to that.
The last one introduced had seemed...less visually impressive than the others. Murphy Roths, the voice had called him. However, Drake knew the signs of an undead, and, judging by what the voice had said, Murphy was a particularly strong one - Drake didn't know of any undead powerful enough to regrow lost limbs. Perhaps he was a necromancer who'd succumbed to his own power? Such a thing was not unheard of. At any rate, Drake concluded, the description had been too spartan to determine the needed information about his intents and motives.
Drake rounded a corner and found himself walking out into some sort of market, the stalls vacant and largely empty. He spent several moments staring around, trying to decide on a direction to travel, when he spotted a shape emerge from around the bend. "Halt!" he shouted at it, pointing his halberd in its direction and assuming a semi-hostile stance. "State thy name and intentions!"
The moment his limbs freed themselves, Drake dropped to one knee, crossing the arm not holding his halberd across it and bowing his head down. His lips moved quickly as he muttered a prayer to Efneroe. "Blessed is thy name, unerring are thy choices, lawful is thy word. Will that my hands be steady in carrying out thy holy work..." After a few moments, he stood up again, surveying the area he'd been placed in. He was surrounded by all manner of curious items housed on shelves and in bins - while some were familiar, most were at best odd and at worst outright bizarre to him. He picked up a curious cube and pressed down on a bump he found on the side, then dropped it in surprise as soft, lilting music began to flow out of it. He quickly brought his halberd down on it, slicing it mostly in half. The music ground to a lurching halt and Drake breathed a sigh of relief - it was good to know that this sorcery was not immune to the metal of men.
As he stepped gingerly around the stores of strange objects, an uncomfortable number of which ticked and hummed quietly to themselves, he considered his situation. He was having a little trouble wrapping his head around exactly what was going on, since he only knew that he'd been abruptly placed in some kind of gladiator match. Who was behind it, and whether it was divine or arcane in origin, remained to be seen.
And what of the others? he mused to himself. Lillian had certainly looked grotesque, and, if the voice was to be trusted, she was plenty strong enough to be a threat to his homeland were she to survive. But, again, if the voice was to be trusted, she was also human on the inside. Perhaps a curse? He would have to question her about that - while staying at a safe distance, of course. He knew plenty of humans who would eagerly betray their own mothers for a few gold coins, although by his own standards they didn't qualify for the label at that point.
Professor Ada Hanmarian...she had looked unusual. Her strange clothing, her confident posture, her unladylike physique, even her utilitarian hairstyle...everything about it spoke of an exiled Amazon. Unfortunately, he was a little fuzzy on his Amazon background - it had been nearly a year since he'd tried to hunt down an abnormally warlike gang of them - and was unable to recall the usual reasons for exile. Perhaps it had something to with her enchanted gauntlet? He made a mental note to treat her with a warrior's respect - and to give her a warrior's death, if it came to that.
The last one introduced had seemed...less visually impressive than the others. Murphy Roths, the voice had called him. However, Drake knew the signs of an undead, and, judging by what the voice had said, Murphy was a particularly strong one - Drake didn't know of any undead powerful enough to regrow lost limbs. Perhaps he was a necromancer who'd succumbed to his own power? Such a thing was not unheard of. At any rate, Drake concluded, the description had been too spartan to determine the needed information about his intents and motives.
Drake rounded a corner and found himself walking out into some sort of market, the stalls vacant and largely empty. He spent several moments staring around, trying to decide on a direction to travel, when he spotted a shape emerge from around the bend. "Halt!" he shouted at it, pointing his halberd in its direction and assuming a semi-hostile stance. "State thy name and intentions!"
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