Sarah Thomas
Stories
7
Chapters
3,706
Words
2.4 M
Comments
0
Reading
8 d, 8 h
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Tycon stood rigidly in the central hall of the manor, glaring at the ostentatious wood and ivory grandfather clock. Dong. Dong. Dong. The clock rung several times in sonorous brass clangs, signifying the midday bell. He turned to face the crowd. In the right formation were servants, including housekeepers, botanists, stablehands, and half of the kitchen staff. In the center formation, the guards had formed strict and neat lines, a credit to Guard Captain Varen, who stood at their front. In the left…-
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Splotches of crimson stained the tile at the center of the ritual room. Skulls of man, beast, and beast-man were piled up artfully around the room in strategic positions. Eighty-eight dusk red candles, standing upon skulls and candelabras added well to the room's ominous atmosphere. At the room's center, a sacrificial altar glowed eerily, illuminating a four-layered magic circle carved into the stone. Sigils, glyphs, and additional magic circles were drawn on the floor tiles in a thick chalky substance…
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"You wanted to see me, Boss?" Tarquin entered the living area. Tycon had wrapped himself warmly in a blanket in front of the fireplace, slowly sipping on a heated cup of wine. After Bucket's departure, he had discovered a prominent wine rack in the corner of the room. As Tycon had commandeered the entire estate, Tavor's vintage wine collection was also his. Delicious. Tycon examined the Daeva. Wroe was half-a-head taller than he was. His light-blue hair was a few ilms longer, where Tycon kept his…
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Tycon led Guard Captain Varen and two other guardsmen through the manor and eventually to a lifted portcullis. "This..." Varen stared in shock, his mouth agape, "They told me the iron gate was sealed! The chain it's connected to-- it's obviously broken!" Tycon looked towards the open gate so Varen wouldn't see him rolling his eyes, "And you believed that, Mister Varen? Trust your subordinates, but verify. You can clearly see that the visible chain is wholly unrelated to the door mechanism." Tycon had…
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Tycondrius opened the second-story window with human hands and peeked his head out. There was a lattice for climbing-plants. It looked nice, but was a security vulnerability. With his sneaky-snake transformation ability, Tycon slithered successfully down to the courtyard. He continued through the grass and brush, towards the sound of noise. A score of guards remained standing. Near twice their number were defeated, laying about, groaning or tending to their injuries. Tycon's snakey head bobbed up…
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Wroe was a skilled and brave sword fighter, as Barza had hoped. But as the first guard cried out, another came. And soon after, came another. Barza nervously looked to the big man crouched behind a bush, beside him, "Mister Dragan… Should we…?" The massive brute scoffed and shook his head, "Pff. Nah! He'll be fine!" How could he find this situation funny? "But Mister Dragan--" "Look, man," Dragan pointed all the fingers of his hand at Barza repeatedly, to emphasize, "We gotta stick. to. the…
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Barza didn't have time to clean his and his companions' effects, so he left them still mottled with blood. He strapped two swords to his upper back, one on his waist. A wicked curved blade rested horizontally on his lower back and a hatchet was strapped to his right upper thigh. A quiver of a half-dozen javelins on his left side ensured that he had a response to enemy archers. He wore a smart pair of gauntlets with thick, metal armguards, as well as comprehensive, riveted leather armor, complete with…
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Baron Zindo Tavor's manor was suitably opulent. Foreign rugs and tabards warmed the walkways and halls. Oversized paintings were expensively illuminated by magical ever-burning torches. Servants operated in a pretentious, orthodox, some would say archaic style. When the Baron came around, servants were expected to bow, walk quickly to a corner, and face away. Servants. Furniture. Tools. Like any object, its greatest joy should come from being used by its owner. Tycon thought it an asinine…
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Nevil didn't want any trouble. His main job as a militia guard was breaking up fights (with strong words) and holding a halberd (very menacingly). Anything he wasn't sure he could handle, he'd report to either Guard Captain Varen or the town's Adventurer's Guild. He liked being a militia guard. He earned consistent pay on the first and fifteenth. With that, he could afford poultry and fresh vegetables. His younger sister was getting married in a few weeks, so he was drinking less and saving money…
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Tycon warmed his hands with the clay mug. The tavern girl, Sorina, had filled it with a warm blackberry wine. "So the sign outside of the inn… is a squirrel?" Tycon mused, "--with two oversized testicles." Dragan, the giant-blooded man with flaming red hair, drained another flagon of ale. With a refreshed 'ahh,' he slammed it on the table, making a satisfying plonk sound, "Well, Wolfbanger said it was a chipmunk." "A chipmunk then." "This place's name is clearly 'The Big Ball Chipmunk Inn,'"…
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