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Tancred · 07-06-2001, 07:03 PM

Tancred sits by the still-living body of the mage. The blood has stopped flowing, but the occasional hacking cough from Karnas suggests this isn't necessarily a good thing. The paladin's eyes are thoughtful and sad. Others of the bar offer him a drink, a hand of cards... but nothing seems to stir him. He looks from his old sword to the wounded wizard, biting a lip.
Suddenly, Tancred gets up, running to the upper floors of the bar without a word, leaping up the stairs two at a time, pushing past the feathery figure of Lord Raptor as he does so. The mighty Chicken clucks angrily for a few seconds, then buks to himself.

The paladin does not return for some time. As the gentler, less warrior-like of the patrons try to tend the delerious wizard, Tancred stomps down the stairs again, clad in his battered old armour - the blade-shaped hole in the breastplate put there by Artemis is still there. In his other hand he holds his sword, and under his arm - a book.
He clears a space on the bar, knocking aside empty pints and ashtrays as Tancred thumps the mighty book down. It is an obviously old book, with leather covers and brass bindings, and a coat-of-arms on the front of the book can just be made out in faded gold leaf. The book bears the legend 'de Foesmyte' on the spine.
As Tancred opens the book, those who crowd round can smell the age of the paper; copperplate script covers pages and pages of the aged book, along with sketches of people - knights in armour, noble-looking ladies in wimples, a long and complex family tree. Tancred turns reverentially to the section headed
'the lady Truori de Foesmyte'

Tancre reads on, finger tracing line after line of the ancient text, reading about his great-grandmother's life, history - and the quests she undertook. Eventually, he reaches the part of the biography regarding the blessing of the sword - and gives a sudden exclamation of surprise and shock, shutting the book. The expression on his face is grim. He looks to his sword, and to the dying Karnas again.
He knows what he has to do, even if no-one else does.
"Helm help me," he breathes.
He stands there for some time, absentmindedly sipping from caleb's pint, weighng up something in his head. Eventually, he seems to come to a decision. He looks around at the patrons, and slams the pint onto the bar to get their attention.
"I've got to find a powerful evil Dragon and kill it," he says. "Anyone want to come?"

[This message has been edited by Tancred (edited 07-09-2001).]

07-06-2001, 07:03 PM	#75
Tancred White Dragon Join Date: April 1, 2001 Location: UK Age: 45 Posts: 1,893	Tancred sits by the still-living body of the mage. The blood has stopped flowing, but the occasional hacking cough from Karnas suggests this isn't necessarily a good thing. The paladin's eyes are thoughtful and sad. Others of the bar offer him a drink, a hand of cards... but nothing seems to stir him. He looks from his old sword to the wounded wizard, biting a lip. Suddenly, Tancred gets up, running to the upper floors of the bar without a word, leaping up the stairs two at a time, pushing past the feathery figure of Lord Raptor as he does so. The mighty Chicken clucks angrily for a few seconds, then buks to himself. The paladin does not return for some time. As the gentler, less warrior-like of the patrons try to tend the delerious wizard, Tancred stomps down the stairs again, clad in his battered old armour - the blade-shaped hole in the breastplate put there by Artemis is still there. In his other hand he holds his sword, and under his arm - a book. He clears a space on the bar, knocking aside empty pints and ashtrays as Tancred thumps the mighty book down. It is an obviously old book, with leather covers and brass bindings, and a coat-of-arms on the front of the book can just be made out in faded gold leaf. The book bears the legend 'de Foesmyte' on the spine. As Tancred opens the book, those who crowd round can smell the age of the paper; copperplate script covers pages and pages of the aged book, along with sketches of people - knights in armour, noble-looking ladies in wimples, a long and complex family tree. Tancred turns reverentially to the section headed 'the lady Truori de Foesmyte' Tancre reads on, finger tracing line after line of the ancient text, reading about his great-grandmother's life, history - and the quests she undertook. Eventually, he reaches the part of the biography regarding the blessing of the sword - and gives a sudden exclamation of surprise and shock, shutting the book. The expression on his face is grim. He looks to his sword, and to the dying Karnas again. He knows what he has to do, even if no-one else does. "Helm help me," he breathes. He stands there for some time, absentmindedly sipping from caleb's pint, weighng up something in his head. Eventually, he seems to come to a decision. He looks around at the patrons, and slams the pint onto the bar to get their attention. "I've got to find a powerful evil Dragon and kill it," he says. "Anyone want to come?" [This message has been edited by Tancred (edited 07-09-2001).]