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Post by Char-Vell on Dec 16, 2019 8:12:38 GMT -5
4. Parlour
Though Sigyn was more agile and sure-footed than the nautically oriented pirates, she was weighed down by her hauberk, weapons and sodden linen tunic, and wearied from dragging the ships boat out to sea and battling five wastrels. Thus it was that Sakarbaal and Ignastios arrived at the mansion first. The Aesir pulled at the door and found it barred against her. Wasting no time on forcing the door, she scurried to the back of the house to find the two corsairs struggling with Pulenas, the destrier, who reared and kicked violenlty against the rough handling of these interlopers. Sakarbaal seized the big horse by the mane to climb upon his back, but a sudden move by the stallion sent him flying. Pulenas felled Ignatios with a hoof to the belly, then galloped away into the nighted forest beyond.
An enraged Sigyn picked up Ignatios’ dropped torch and began beating the pirates with it, showering them with sparks and inflicting painful burns.
“Sons of Ymir eat your foul hearts!”
Before she was able to seriously injure either of the corsairs, Hafgan, breathless and trembling, stumbled onto the scene.
“The Apostates…” he wheezed. “They are soon upon us….”
“Back into the house.” barked Sigyn, dragging the unresponsive Sakarbaal along.
“Why not flee into the wood?” asked Ignastios.
“And stumble about in the dark with you fools while those things stalk us? Nay, I will barricade myself in the house and buy time to see what I’m up against, and make a plan. You may flee headlong into the woods with my compliments, if it suits you.”
Sigyn entered the manse though its smaller less, elaborate back entrance, tossing Sakarbaal in first. Hafgan and Ignastios piled in quickly behind her. Hurriedly, they barricaded the door with furniture broken timbers, and other detritus. Returning to the parlour Sigyn kindled the wood in the fireplace with the torch. Then went to the shuttered windows to peer outside through the gaps. The first of the apostates had lumbered up the trail and now approached the manse at a slow, deliberate pace. The shadowy form of it’s brethren could be seen in tow.
“Hafgan, you say these things attacked this house before?”
“They took the fakir ten years ago, I know not how. I stayed in my cave and did not bear witness.”
“You’ll bear witness tonight by Ymir! Pray to your gods this old shack can hold up.”
If the gods heard any prayers, they chose to answer them with mockery, for the nightmare automaton made straight for the window through which Sigyn looked, and smashed through its shutters with a stupendous blow. Cursing, Sigyn slashed at it with the yataghan of Gantulga. The recurved blade shivered and shattered against the marble surface, only lightly damaging the fleshy sea creatures manipulating it. The thing struck again. Sigyn took the blow on her shield. The force of the blow knocked her to her knees, smashing the wood and iron shield, rendering it useless.
Hafgan leapt to the window with surprising agility. He brought his bronzed-headed mace down on the head of the apostate, shattering the marble and scattering the creatures that held it in place. Witnessing this, Sigyn cast aside the remains of her shield, running to the workbench to seize the great maul. With it she smashed it into the Apostates torso before it could extricate itself from the window. It staggered back into the darkness, struggling to hold itself together. She turned to the two pirates. who had now regained their composure and were brandishing cutlasses.
“Blades are useless against them.” she shouted. “Take up hammers from yon work bench and smash them to bits!”
Sakarbaal and Ignastios did as she bid them, and found rusty, but solid iron-headed sledges upon the table. Thus armed, the four unlikely companions prepared to defend against the inevitable onslaught.
It was not long in coming.
Sakarbaal and Ignastios had earlier barred the front door against Sigyn with a heavy oak.plank. This now bowed and flexed as the Apostates assaulted the portal with blows and by pressing their bulk against it. Abruptly the door burst inward. Two Apostates fell to the floor as it collapsed. but three more behind them strode into the parlour.
Shamed by the bold actions of Hafgan earlier, Sakarbaal and Ignastios sought to redeem their honor by attacking the stony horrors. They rained mighty blows on the apostates, knock great chunks from heads torsos , and arms, yet still the monsters pressed forward.
“The legs!” shouted Hafgan. “Break their legs”
They all turned their attention to the legs of their eldritch attackers trying to cripple them while avoiding the skull crushing blows of the sea-spawned horrors. Landing a fortuitous blow, Ignastios called out in triumph as his opponent's legs broke apart, but his cry of jubilation turned to one of horror and pain as the thing fell over upon him. Sakarbaal ran to his shipmates aid, leaving a cursing sigyn to smash away at two apostates. With the agility and speed of a jungle cat she avoided the deadly blows aimed at her, but the effects of numerous glancing blow were beginning to tell on her. She bled from countless scrapes and lacerations. Hafgan was weakening rapidly, his breath coming in ragged gasps and his blows becoming more feeble.
Sakarbaal was struck with a backhand blow and sent flying across the parlour. Ignastios, still pinned beneath the legless apostate, looked up to find another of the abysmal things looming over him, reaching down. Hands built up from tentacles, coral, pincers and jellyfish gripped the buccaneers head. He screamed.
Sakarbaal rose and looked up in time to see an apostate tear the still screaming head Ignastios from his body. It was the self same apostate Hagan had decapitated earlier. It raised the writhing, bleeding head of Ignatios and placed it backward upon its own shoulders. Tiny crabs, squid, starfish and jellies swarmed and squirmed to hold the hideous new head in place. Sakarbaal shrieked like a damned soul.
Sigyn bowled over her assailants with a supreme effort, they collided with a comrade assailing Hafgan, granting the party a respite. She and the hermit fell back past the great, enclosed boat of the fakir, and sought their breath. It was then that more apostates smashed through the front wall of the house. These were more repulsively elaborate that the previous lot, wildly festooned with colorful coral and sponges. The looked like a mad painters rendering of some outlandish tribal shamans. A cold, wet, salty wind followed them in.
A storm was brewing in the cove.
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Post by Char-Vell on Dec 17, 2019 10:33:31 GMT -5
5.Nuada
“This is untenable!” shouted Sigyn. She pointed to the knotted rope hanging down from the second story. “Up the rope! We’ll see if the bastards can climb! Sakarbaal! On your feet whelp! Get thee up that rope.”
Mechanically the lad obeyed, shimmying up the rope as though he were climbing a ship’s rigging, followed less agiley by Hafgan. Sigyn struggled up last, using her legs and one arm, unwilling to relinquish her hammer, which she swung at the things as they groped at her. Narrowly she avoided the grasping, viscoid appendages of the nightmarish Apostates. Clambering onto the second storey floor, she hastily drew up the rope, not allowing the things an opportunity to climb it. They milled about below, unsure of how to reach their intended victims.
The second story was in worse repair than the first. It had been comprised of several rooms, but the walls of those had been torn away. Possibly used by the fakir in his constructions. It was now one great room with a square hole in the floor. Small shuttered windows were arranged on all sides, with two great windows facing the sea, these had once been glazed, but now they were but gaping holes. A waxed cloth had been tacked over them, but this now fluttered about in tatters like ragged pennants in the face of the wind blasting in from the cove.
Hafgan, his eyes now ablaze with a fanatical glare and heedless to the increasingly powerful gale, strode to the gaping window and stared at the cove intently. At that moment another mighty gust blew through the windows with such force it rattled the timbers of the old mansion, and pelted it’s interior with stinging salt spray. Hafgan took a step back as if giving way before the gust, then pressed forward, closer to the window, his jaw set in a defiant aspect.
“There are eight of them below now!” cried Sakarbaal from the opening. The illumination from the fire below gave his panicked countenance an otherworldly aspect. “One still leers up at me with the head of poor Ignastios! Oh, aid us, Blessed Mitra!”
“Come away from there boy!” snapped Sigyn harshly. “Better look to yourself for aid, I’m told Mitra loves not pirates!”
“What can we do? We are trapped up here like rats”
Sigyn shrugged.
“At worst, we run the rope out one of these windows and make a break for it. I still dislike the idea of fleeing to the wood, but they are sluggish and clumsy, we should be able to outpace them. I didn’t count on them getting inside so quickly. If only you fools hadn’t spooked Pulenas. Damnation!” She spat as another gust pelted her with salt spray. “Should we escape this house, we’re liable to be blown away by the tempest, if it doesn’t bring the old shack down on our heads first!”
Hafgan threw his arms wide and howled, brandishing his club. He shook his fist toward the cove and shouted.
“Nuada! Hear me! This is unjust! The Apostates offended you and they are punished eternally! We, their offspring, have done penance for their sin for generations! Is this not enough? Why punish these strangers? It was not their doing the Apostates offended thee! Thou art a spiteful, unjust god! I, Hafgan, the last of my people, the last of your sentinels,! I rebuke thee! Hear me Nuada! I rebuke thee!”
As if in retort, a great thunderclap sounded and arcs of lightning rippled across the sky, dazzling the eyes of those in the house. Hafgan laughed mockingly.
“Rage away, you hateful bastard! Curse me for all time as you did those below, for I am now among their number! I am an Apostate!”
There was a heartbeat of silence without, followed by a low rumbling. Sigyn and Sakarbaal went to the window. frequent flashes of lightning illuminated the scene without. Sigyn’s eyes widened when her mind grasped what she beheld.
“Ymir!”
The waters of the cove were being pulled back, pulled back as one would draw back a bow. A massive wall of water reared higher and higher. Within heartbeats the cove was emptied of water. The lightning flashed and one could see the wreckage of The Leopard, and beyond, a hint of the coral festooned towers and minarets of the sunken city. The wall of water reared ever higher. Impossibly high. The lightning flashed again and Sigyn beheld the frothing white crest of the gigantic wave, and something more. There, perched atop the crest of the wave..
Sigyn suppressed a groan and turned away, seizing Sakarbaal by the scruff of the neck and pulling him away.
“Hermit!” she croaked. “We must flee!”
“I will not! I stand in defiance of Nuada! Take the boy and flee, Sigyn of Asgard, may your gods protect you!”
Sigyn did not argue she hastily gathered up the rope, intending to climb out a window with it.
“No use.” moaned Sakarbaal. “We can never outrun such a wave. We are doomed!”
The Aesir paced about, snarling like a cornered wolf.
“Like hell we are!” she growled. “Follow me!”
With that she jumped through the hole in the floor back into the parlour. Landing in a crouch. Sakarbaal followed suit, landing not so gracefully but well enough. The Apostates moved in.
“Leave us be!” Sigyn shouted at them. “Your Nuada seeks our deaths. Would you aid your tormentor thus?”
The Apostates hesitated the slowly stepped back. A deep roar began building in volume from outside, the timbers of the old mansion rattled more insistently.
Sigyn raced to the fakir’s closed boat and opened the hatch.
“Get in boy!”
Sakarbaal quickly slithered inside. Sigyn squeezed her larger frame through the opening. The inside of the boat was lined with waterproofed hides and sealed at all seams with a tarry black substance. Three leather covered benches spanned the interior, in the fashion of a rowboat. Sigyn found the hatch could be secured from the inside with an ingenious system of bolts. These she operated, sealing the boat. The interior grew dark as a tomb.
“Make yourself fast, boy!”
They huddled in the bottom of the boat, gripping one of the benches. The roar outside reached a deafening crescendo. Then the world turned on end. In the absolute darkness of the boat there was the discordant, dizzying sensation of vertigo as the craft was hurled about by the deluge. Intermittently, there would be sickening thuds and cracks as objects struck the boat. Sigyn felt cold water against her flesh, and she feared the boat would be flooded, yet it held. They were buffeted about mercilessly. Sakarball was not long of limb enough to secure himself among the benches, and instead clung to Sigyn like an infant clinging to its mother. The boat was hurled about once more with stupendous violence. Sigyn lost her grip and was hurled about the boat.
Stars blossomed in her darkness, followed by a deeper, profound oblivion.
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Post by Char-Vell on Dec 17, 2019 12:00:04 GMT -5
6. Oak
Sigyn dreamt of Asgard.
She lay on an irregular boulder by the creek that flowed near her parent’s hut. So close did she lay by the glacier fed creek that the chill water splashed against her and soaked her clothing. A great wet hound lay across her, not allowing her to rise. The sun shone down brightly in her eyes. Her father bellowed at her from the hut.
“Sigyn! Stop dallying with that cur and bring forth those buckets! The cauldron will not fill itself! Would you eat this boar without scalding the hair off first?”
She had felled the boar with her spear that morning. Her father had swelled with pride at that cast, by Ymir! The meat would taste good. She struggled to rise…
The Aesir awoke, fully aware as is the habit of the savage. She was sprawled in the bottom of the fakir’s strang boat, a good hand’s width of seawater lay in the bottom, soaking her. The top had broken away in several places admitting rays of golden sunlight. Birds chirped happily outside. Sakarbaal still clung to her, his sodden head resting upon her armored bosom, snoring.
“Get off me, boy! Scourge of the seas, indeed!”
Sigyn began wresting the lad away from her, and caused the boat to lurch wildly onto its side. The top fell away completely and revealed leafy foliage. Sigyn watched some of the timber fall to a leaf covered forest floor below. She barely managed to stop Sakarbaal and herself from tumbling out.
“Mitra!” yelped the boy, shocked into wakefulness. “What has happened?”
“That deluge put us in a treetop it seems.”
“We live?”
“Obviously. Unless we break our necks climbing down. Let’s go.”
The pair clambered down the gnarled branches of the sprawling cork oak the boat had been deposited in. Once on the ground Sigyn led them back to what she judged to be the direction of the cove. The undergrowth showed signs of having been pressed down by the floodwaters, and various debris was scattered about.here and there they identified pieces of the mansion and its contents.
Abruptly they came upon the new shore of the cove, far inland of where it had previously lay. The promontory were the mansion had stood was completely submerged. Sigyn whistled.
“Old Nuada was more thorough this time. Look at the pale stone that serves as the beach now! We stand above the old cliff face where Hafgan had his cave home.”
“It is incredible!’ stated Sakarbaal. “How is it we lived through such a thing?”
“Because we were clever. Or lucky. Or perhaps Ymir and Mitra would not stand for their respective playthings to be drowned by a foriegn godling. I’ll not set foot on this shore again. Nuada and his coral-men are welcome to it!”
“You believe in this Nuada then?”
“Aye. I saw him sitting astride that wall of water ere it fell. A great pale, naked bastard, beard full of seaweed and crusted with coral like his Apostates. He looked dead at me. His eyes… By Ymir I’d pluck my own out if I thought I'd have to look upon such as that again. Let us begone from here!”
Turning back into the woods, they walked for some time. It was late afternoon when they found Pulenas, grazing happily on some ferns, none the worse for wear and still saddled. Sigyn patted him cheerfully and mounted the steed, pulling Sakarbaal up behind her. An hour or so later, they trotted out on a heavily traveled roadway. Sigyn picked a direction and took them along the dusty, partially paved way.
“Where are you taking us.” asked Sakarbaal.
“This will eventually take us to Velathra. I have neglected business there I must return to”
The boy made a choking noise but spoke not.
The rode until sundown it grew quite dark and Sigyn brought them to a halt. Not wishing to pick about the irregular roadway in the dark. They were about to dismount, when Sakarbaal spotted lights approaching down the road in front of them. Sigyn steered Pulenas off the road and behind a copse of trees. She drew the shortsword she retained by some miracle.
“Stay quiet, if those are bandits and they see us we’ll have the devil’s own time fighting clear of them.”
After a few moments, the riders passed them. They were a company of bronzed armored spearmen, resplendent in red silk cloaks and helms with red dyed horsehair crests. They were mounted on white destriers identical to Pulenas. After they had passed, Sigyn spurred her horse and fell in behind them. A broad grin was on her face as she hailed them.
The riders stopped and there was some consternation among them. Their leader rode back through his men and approached. Setting eyes on Sigyn he started and glared incredulously.
“Loins of Ishtar! How did you come upon us Si… My Queen?”
Sakarbaal started. “Queen?”
“Hush boy. I decided it was time I came back from my little holiday, Orto.”
Orto, a well knit, rangy Kothian with a symetrical beard, typical of the mercenary spearmen of his race, strove to hide his irritation.
“Would that you had told someone of your intention to take a holiday.. Your majesty, we feared you taken by an enemy or somesuch. Chancellor Pumpu is agitated beyond description.”
“Best we not dally then!”
“Who is this boy?”
“Ah, meet Sakarbaal. He is but a lost waif I found on my travels. He would come to Velathra and be a sailor in our magnificent navy. Isn’t that right, Sakarbaal?”
Sigyn’s tone was pleasant, but there was a subtle hint of menace that made the lad feel it unwise to dispute her depiction of him.”
“A-Aye! I would sail for Velathra, tis’ the dream of many a seafaring lad!”
“Good! A few years of honest seamanship will be the making of you, by Ymir!”
Sigyn wheeled Pulenas back in the direction of Velathra, and spoke to the captain of her personal retinue.
“Let us be off, Orto! Should I beat you to the city gates, it will be you who fills my goblet at the table, and sees to it I am served no seafood! I have had my fill of it!”
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Post by darklordbob on Dec 17, 2019 16:32:28 GMT -5
Sygin really knows how to pick those royal vacation spots. Also I can't recall ever reading a story with antagonists like these before, so extra points for originality on top of all else.
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Post by Char-Vell on Dec 17, 2019 16:44:01 GMT -5
Sygin really knows how to pick those royal vacation spots. Also I can't recall ever reading a story with antagonists like these before, so extra points for originality on top of all else. I dunno, I'm sure I subconsciously ripped something off from somewhere. The Apostates would fit right in a sleazy Filipino exploitation film.
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Post by darklordbob on Dec 17, 2019 16:57:30 GMT -5
Sygin really knows how to pick those royal vacation spots. Also I can't recall ever reading a story with antagonists like these before, so extra points for originality on top of all else. I dunno, I'm sure I subconsciously ripped something off from somewhere. The Apostates would fit right in a sleazy Filipino exploitation film.
A sleazy Filipino exploitation film with excellent stop motion effects.
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Post by Char-Vell on Dec 18, 2019 7:46:26 GMT -5
I dunno, I'm sure I subconsciously ripped something off from somewhere. The Apostates would fit right in a sleazy Filipino exploitation film.
A sleazy Filipino exploitation film with excellent stop motion effects. Jim Danforth might have been down for such a project. Not classy enough for Harryhausen.
Now I'm imagining Nuada/Nodens looking like this:
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Post by Char-Vell on Dec 18, 2019 8:17:56 GMT -5
Should the need arise, I may convert this into a 17th century piratical yarn, or a weird western.
Variant Apostates!
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Post by zarono on Dec 18, 2019 8:50:10 GMT -5
Great tale CV! This scene is amazing, it's cinematic but still brings home the cosmic wonder/fear because you don't know exactly what it is Sygin sees on the crest of the wave (until later of course ). "The waters of the cove were being pulled back, pulled back as one would draw back a bow. A massive wall of water reared higher and higher. Within heartbeats the cove was emptied of water. The lightning flashed and one could see the wreckage of The Leopard, and beyond, a hint of the coral festooned towers and minarets of the sunken city. The wall of water reared ever higher. Impossibly high. The lightning flashed again and Sigyn beheld the frothing white crest of the gigantic wave, and something more. There, perched atop the crest of the wave.."
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Post by Char-Vell on Dec 18, 2019 9:29:54 GMT -5
Great tale CV! This scene is amazing, it's cinematic but still brings home the cosmic wonder/fear because you don't know exactly what it is Sygin sees on the crest of the wave (until later of course ). "The waters of the cove were being pulled back, pulled back as one would draw back a bow. A massive wall of water reared higher and higher. Within heartbeats the cove was emptied of water. The lightning flashed and one could see the wreckage of The Leopard, and beyond, a hint of the coral festooned towers and minarets of the sunken city. The wall of water reared ever higher. Impossibly high. The lightning flashed again and Sigyn beheld the frothing white crest of the gigantic wave, and something more. There, perched atop the crest of the wave.." I was worried that passage would be too clunky and not get the point across. Glad it worked out.
I am fond of stories that don't spell everything out for the reader, and apply this in my own writing. Hopefully I'm adding an air of mystery and not just creating frustrating confusion.
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Post by Char-Vell on Dec 18, 2019 9:41:16 GMT -5
The last chapter was probably padded out too much with dream sequences and stuff to tie it in with Wings out of Hell.
I am a sucker for continuity.
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Post by darklordbob on Dec 18, 2019 15:06:26 GMT -5
I didn't mind at all. It was a nice little surprise to see where the story fit in the overall chronology.
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Post by zarono on Dec 19, 2019 10:20:09 GMT -5
The last chapter was probably padded out too much with dream sequences and stuff to tie it in with Wings out of Hell. I am a sucker for continuity. I liked the dream sequence, it's an entertaining way to slow things down for the ending after the climax. Continuity is always a good thing imo.
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Post by darklordbob on Dec 19, 2019 17:49:27 GMT -5
Say Mr Z, any chance we'll see your version of an Apostate? Seems like it'd be right up your alley.
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Post by Char-Vell on Dec 20, 2019 20:49:47 GMT -5
Say Mr Z, any chance we'll see your version of an Apostate? Seems like it'd be right up your alley. Art challenge issued! I need to do one up as well.
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