Quiet Paul
Tribune
And will my 16 foot Principal be sufficient against Vulcan, or will I need all 32 feet?
-
Sign up or login, and you'll have full access to opportunities of forum.
The Disappearance Of Princess Cordelia
- Thread starter Wragg
- Start date
-
- Tags
- original story
Quiet Paul
Tribune
It is so nice to appreciated! One tries one's humble best to please!
I can only say, when you blast out with the big pipe,
I feel the earth move!
You two!
I am rolling on the floor laughing
because my knee I'm not rolling..........................butYou two!
I am rolling on the floor laughing
They came in the night, as predicted. The first Elise knew about it was a hand over her mouth. Her room was filled with shadowy black figures. She knew who they were, without seeing them. This time she knew there could be no escape.
They gagged her so completely that she could only make a muffled squeaking noise, but she gave them a run for their money fighting them as they struggled to truss her up, before half carrying, half dragging her out of the pub to one of two waiting horses.
The first light of the rising sun gave just enough light to see these beasts. Large, black, strong and magnificent. Elise was unceremoniously dumped over the first horse and tied on in front of its black hooded rider.
Then Elise realised what was different about this horse. Equus Pegasi. A flying horse!
There was a pause. Then more kerfuffle as they carried another figure out of the pub and carried her to the other horse. Elise’s heart sank. It was Eulalia.
She fought even harder than Elise had, and one of the black monks went sprawling across the road, hood flying off in the process. ‘He’ was a ‘she’. Eulalia stared at her in utter, utter, dismay. Their strategy was ruined. How could she warn Paul that his bar girl, Sandra, had sold her soul to Vulcan? That he had a traitor right under his nose?
She cursed herself. Sandra had been there yesterday, watching, as she’d ‘greeted’ Paul yesterday. So now Vulcan knew all about Paul. Their ace card was now on the table in front of Vulcan.
She was going to her cross for nothing.
They gagged her so completely that she could only make a muffled squeaking noise, but she gave them a run for their money fighting them as they struggled to truss her up, before half carrying, half dragging her out of the pub to one of two waiting horses.
The first light of the rising sun gave just enough light to see these beasts. Large, black, strong and magnificent. Elise was unceremoniously dumped over the first horse and tied on in front of its black hooded rider.
Then Elise realised what was different about this horse. Equus Pegasi. A flying horse!
There was a pause. Then more kerfuffle as they carried another figure out of the pub and carried her to the other horse. Elise’s heart sank. It was Eulalia.
She fought even harder than Elise had, and one of the black monks went sprawling across the road, hood flying off in the process. ‘He’ was a ‘she’. Eulalia stared at her in utter, utter, dismay. Their strategy was ruined. How could she warn Paul that his bar girl, Sandra, had sold her soul to Vulcan? That he had a traitor right under his nose?
She cursed herself. Sandra had been there yesterday, watching, as she’d ‘greeted’ Paul yesterday. So now Vulcan knew all about Paul. Their ace card was now on the table in front of Vulcan.
She was going to her cross for nothing.
“PAUL!! HE KNOWS!!! SANDRA IS A TRAITOR!!!” The thought from Eulalia crashed into his brain. But he, too, had seen Sandra. He had been discreetly watching proceedings from an upstairs window.
He threw open the window, screamed a spell, and hurled it at Elise’s horse. A bolt of unbelievable force struck the horse full on its chest. It, too, screamed, and rolled onto its side, dead, trapping poor Elise beneath it.
Paul, his eyes burning with white hot fury, was raining terrible death down upon the monks. Bright bolts of energy blazed down upon them. The black monks screamed in confusion and terror at this apparition in the window of a simple country pub. They were completely unprepared for this sudden development, and fell before this avenging angel of light and death. The power of his spells was hurling their dead bodies all over the street. He singled out Sandra, determined that she would pay for her treachery, and she was struck by a bolt of pure fury that froze her heart in her chest. She was dead before she even hit the ground.
But the rider of Eulalia’s horse was Lord Vulcan himself. Just as he was proclaiming a spell upon the second horse, Paul flew backwards as a huge spell from Vulcan smashed in through the window. He landed at the far end of the room surrounded by bits of broken glass and smouldering, wrecked furniture. Shit. In his fury and panic he hadn’t worked out which of the hooded figures was Vulcan. He’d been so angry with Sandra that he’d wasted time on her, and not sought out Vulcan! Idiot!
Paul, strong though he was, took a good minute to recover from Vulcan’s spell. He struggled back to the window.
The surviving monks had vanished, leaving behind about ten corpses and a dead horse. Elise was wriggling in terror, unable to release herself from beneath the horse.
The second flying horse, bearing Vulcan and Eulalia, was a fast disappearing speck in the dawn sky.
“Shit!” Paul repeated, furious with himself. “A flying horse! A flying horse! My kingdom for a flying horse!”
But even he was surprised when a large, white flying horse touched down moments later bearing a beautiful temple priestess and a rather scared looking young man.
Dorothy and her Pegasus
He threw open the window, screamed a spell, and hurled it at Elise’s horse. A bolt of unbelievable force struck the horse full on its chest. It, too, screamed, and rolled onto its side, dead, trapping poor Elise beneath it.
Paul, his eyes burning with white hot fury, was raining terrible death down upon the monks. Bright bolts of energy blazed down upon them. The black monks screamed in confusion and terror at this apparition in the window of a simple country pub. They were completely unprepared for this sudden development, and fell before this avenging angel of light and death. The power of his spells was hurling their dead bodies all over the street. He singled out Sandra, determined that she would pay for her treachery, and she was struck by a bolt of pure fury that froze her heart in her chest. She was dead before she even hit the ground.
But the rider of Eulalia’s horse was Lord Vulcan himself. Just as he was proclaiming a spell upon the second horse, Paul flew backwards as a huge spell from Vulcan smashed in through the window. He landed at the far end of the room surrounded by bits of broken glass and smouldering, wrecked furniture. Shit. In his fury and panic he hadn’t worked out which of the hooded figures was Vulcan. He’d been so angry with Sandra that he’d wasted time on her, and not sought out Vulcan! Idiot!
Paul, strong though he was, took a good minute to recover from Vulcan’s spell. He struggled back to the window.
The surviving monks had vanished, leaving behind about ten corpses and a dead horse. Elise was wriggling in terror, unable to release herself from beneath the horse.
The second flying horse, bearing Vulcan and Eulalia, was a fast disappearing speck in the dawn sky.
“Shit!” Paul repeated, furious with himself. “A flying horse! A flying horse! My kingdom for a flying horse!”
But even he was surprised when a large, white flying horse touched down moments later bearing a beautiful temple priestess and a rather scared looking young man.
Dorothy and her Pegasus
cxslave
Chain Slave
Oooh...so pretty!
Primus pilus
Magister Australis
One moment Dorothy, the beautiful blonde temple priestess, is taking young Pilus to the heavens. The next she has him flying just as high mounted on a flying horse......and he seems damn near as scared as he was when she mounted him.
vulcan
Governor
The chain
Pilus, still shaking after his early morning flight from Heidraen to South Hagen, was highly delighted to be back on terra firma.
But as he climbed down from the horse he became aware of the carnage around him. Bodies everywhere! A whimpering noise attracted his attention. It was Cordelia’s maid, Elise, bound and gagged, tied around another flying horse that was very dead and very on top of her.
Carefully, he released her gag, but he was going to need help to move the horse. Flying horses have another whole set of muscles to power their wings and they weigh a great deal more than their earthbound cousins.
Before Elise could speak, a man rushed out of the nearby pub. He’d never seen him before, but Dorothy seemed to recognise him, judging by the graceful curtsey she gave him.
“Can’t stop!” called the stranger, “I need your horse!”
With one movement he leaped into the saddle, and with a cry of ‘Yah! Giddy-up!’ from him the horse galloped along the street and lifted into the air.
Pilus looked at Dorothy, who looked ravishing in the dawn light. “This is surreal. I must be dreaming! That’s it! I’m still asleep. Flying horses, beautiful women, dead monks. I’ll wake up in a moment.”
Elise groaned. “I wish I could, sir. I wish someone would get this bloody horse off me! Beggin’ your pardon, sir.”
There had been more commotion in the few minutes since dawn than South Hagen had seen in years, and one or two curious townspeople, aroused by the fuss, were beginning to emerge from their houses. A bleary eyed man emerged from the pub, whom Pilus recognised as Wragg, the reporter from the Crux Chronicle. Wragg recognised him, too, and knelt deferentially. “Your Royal Highness!” he greeted him.
The townsfolk took their cue, and also knelt, removing their caps.
“Thank you for your greeting, but we very much need to get this horse off this poor woman!” Pilus took command. His knees had just about stopped shaking now.
“’Ats a floiying ‘orse!” exclaimed a townsman. “Thems roight lucky, them is!”
“Well, that one seems to have run out of luck, as will you if you don’t help me get it shifted!”
With much grunting and groaning, not least from Elise, they finally freed her from beneath the horse.
“Are you all right, Elise?” asked Pilus.
“Well, sir, apart from being kidnapped twice, stripped naked once, impaled on a sharp pole, caught in a fire fight, seeing my mistress abducted by madmen in black cloaks, and being rolled on by a dead flying horse, I’ve had a pretty uneventful couple of days. Yes, thank you, your Highness, I’m fine!”
Primus grinned, as did Wragg. After all that she’d been through, she’d not lost her spirit.
“Shall we go inside, and perhaps someone can explain to me exactly what is going on? Because I have to say that I……hang on….what’s happening up there?”
Pilus stopped, his attention attracted by bright lights flashing on the distant mountain called Inge Tarant. He squinted, trying to make out what was happening. The flashing stopped, but he thought he could see a white dot, falling out of control into the forest below.
“Bugger me,” he said, looking at Dorothy. “That guy that took off on our horse….I think he’s just been shot down!”
But as he climbed down from the horse he became aware of the carnage around him. Bodies everywhere! A whimpering noise attracted his attention. It was Cordelia’s maid, Elise, bound and gagged, tied around another flying horse that was very dead and very on top of her.
Carefully, he released her gag, but he was going to need help to move the horse. Flying horses have another whole set of muscles to power their wings and they weigh a great deal more than their earthbound cousins.
Before Elise could speak, a man rushed out of the nearby pub. He’d never seen him before, but Dorothy seemed to recognise him, judging by the graceful curtsey she gave him.
“Can’t stop!” called the stranger, “I need your horse!”
With one movement he leaped into the saddle, and with a cry of ‘Yah! Giddy-up!’ from him the horse galloped along the street and lifted into the air.
Pilus looked at Dorothy, who looked ravishing in the dawn light. “This is surreal. I must be dreaming! That’s it! I’m still asleep. Flying horses, beautiful women, dead monks. I’ll wake up in a moment.”
Elise groaned. “I wish I could, sir. I wish someone would get this bloody horse off me! Beggin’ your pardon, sir.”
There had been more commotion in the few minutes since dawn than South Hagen had seen in years, and one or two curious townspeople, aroused by the fuss, were beginning to emerge from their houses. A bleary eyed man emerged from the pub, whom Pilus recognised as Wragg, the reporter from the Crux Chronicle. Wragg recognised him, too, and knelt deferentially. “Your Royal Highness!” he greeted him.
The townsfolk took their cue, and also knelt, removing their caps.
“Thank you for your greeting, but we very much need to get this horse off this poor woman!” Pilus took command. His knees had just about stopped shaking now.
“’Ats a floiying ‘orse!” exclaimed a townsman. “Thems roight lucky, them is!”
“Well, that one seems to have run out of luck, as will you if you don’t help me get it shifted!”
With much grunting and groaning, not least from Elise, they finally freed her from beneath the horse.
“Are you all right, Elise?” asked Pilus.
“Well, sir, apart from being kidnapped twice, stripped naked once, impaled on a sharp pole, caught in a fire fight, seeing my mistress abducted by madmen in black cloaks, and being rolled on by a dead flying horse, I’ve had a pretty uneventful couple of days. Yes, thank you, your Highness, I’m fine!”
Primus grinned, as did Wragg. After all that she’d been through, she’d not lost her spirit.
“Shall we go inside, and perhaps someone can explain to me exactly what is going on? Because I have to say that I……hang on….what’s happening up there?”
Pilus stopped, his attention attracted by bright lights flashing on the distant mountain called Inge Tarant. He squinted, trying to make out what was happening. The flashing stopped, but he thought he could see a white dot, falling out of control into the forest below.
“Bugger me,” he said, looking at Dorothy. “That guy that took off on our horse….I think he’s just been shot down!”
Moments after Eulalia and Vulcan had landed at Castle Tarant he’d removed her gag, and conducted her up on to the wall. From here you could see all of Aestria, and it looked beautiful in the early morning light, with the Silver River winding down from the Northern Forest, past the bulk of Mount Jedakk. You could make out the cities of Ystragarth and Heidraen, though the nearer city of Solithage was hidden by the forest, and the far port of Aestrador was hidden behind Mount Jedakk.
“My dear”, leered Vulcan, “you know I plan to crucify you, don’t you? Moreover, I intend to see that you endure the cross for at least as long as the Dark Princess hung on her cross in the Defile. She and I are one, you know?”
Eulalia didn’t answer him. What was there to say?
Vulcan continued, “but I am a generous and merciful man. If you agree to become my servant, and follow my commands, and to ensure that all your witches do the same, then all this can be yours, and you will be spared the agony of the cross!”
“Then I should be backing the wrong side,” replied Eulalia, “for you will be defeated. Merlin is stronger than you!”
“Merlin is dead!” grinned Vulcan. “He could not have survived that spell I hit him with just now!”
“Sire! Look!” One of the sentries on a nearby tower pointed excitedly. Vulcan and Eulalia followed his gaze. A white flying horse was approaching at speed. Eulalia recognised it. It was Dorothy’s. Surely Dorothy hadn’t ridden it straight here? She’d given her explicit instructions to take Pilus to South Hagen!
The horse reared up and hovered in the air. A loud voice rang out. Merlin’s voice.
“Vulcan! I know you can hear me! I’m giving you one chance! Let those women go, leave Aestria, and you shall live. Otherwise you face certain doom. This time, you will be finished for good!”
To prove his point, Paul / Merlin sent a powerful bolt at the wall of the castle. A bright flash of light, a huge explosion, and a massive hole appeared in the wall. A sentry screamed as he tumbled into the abyss below. Eventually the scream terminated in a thud.
“See?” smirked Eulalia, “Merlin’s not dead. You can’t kill him!”
Vulcan uttered a curse and flung a bolt out at Merlin. Eulalia threw herself down as Merlin returned a bolt that threw Vulcan over backwards. Luckily for Vulcan there was a wall behind him or he’d have fallen twenty feet into the courtyard. Vulcan shook himself and issued a different curse that struck the flying horse right between its eyes.
It didn’t make a sound, but just tumbled down, turning slowly as fell towards the distant ground below. Eulalia, horrified, saw Paul hanging on desperately.
Vulcan, turning away, issued orders. “Send down a search party! I want his body! I’ve killed him before and he doesn’t stay dead! This time I want his body before he revives!”
But Eulalia, behind Vulcan and unnoticed by him, called softly, “Vakna, Pegasus!” and sent a spell of her own down into the void beneath. She saw it strike the horse, saw those great wings once again begin to beat, and watched it skimming just above treetop height as it headed back towards Hagen.
Then Vulcan grabbed her. “Come on, witch, it’s time to stop messing around! Let’s get these women crucified!”
“My dear”, leered Vulcan, “you know I plan to crucify you, don’t you? Moreover, I intend to see that you endure the cross for at least as long as the Dark Princess hung on her cross in the Defile. She and I are one, you know?”
Eulalia didn’t answer him. What was there to say?
Vulcan continued, “but I am a generous and merciful man. If you agree to become my servant, and follow my commands, and to ensure that all your witches do the same, then all this can be yours, and you will be spared the agony of the cross!”
“Then I should be backing the wrong side,” replied Eulalia, “for you will be defeated. Merlin is stronger than you!”
“Merlin is dead!” grinned Vulcan. “He could not have survived that spell I hit him with just now!”
“Sire! Look!” One of the sentries on a nearby tower pointed excitedly. Vulcan and Eulalia followed his gaze. A white flying horse was approaching at speed. Eulalia recognised it. It was Dorothy’s. Surely Dorothy hadn’t ridden it straight here? She’d given her explicit instructions to take Pilus to South Hagen!
The horse reared up and hovered in the air. A loud voice rang out. Merlin’s voice.
“Vulcan! I know you can hear me! I’m giving you one chance! Let those women go, leave Aestria, and you shall live. Otherwise you face certain doom. This time, you will be finished for good!”
To prove his point, Paul / Merlin sent a powerful bolt at the wall of the castle. A bright flash of light, a huge explosion, and a massive hole appeared in the wall. A sentry screamed as he tumbled into the abyss below. Eventually the scream terminated in a thud.
“See?” smirked Eulalia, “Merlin’s not dead. You can’t kill him!”
Vulcan uttered a curse and flung a bolt out at Merlin. Eulalia threw herself down as Merlin returned a bolt that threw Vulcan over backwards. Luckily for Vulcan there was a wall behind him or he’d have fallen twenty feet into the courtyard. Vulcan shook himself and issued a different curse that struck the flying horse right between its eyes.
It didn’t make a sound, but just tumbled down, turning slowly as fell towards the distant ground below. Eulalia, horrified, saw Paul hanging on desperately.
Vulcan, turning away, issued orders. “Send down a search party! I want his body! I’ve killed him before and he doesn’t stay dead! This time I want his body before he revives!”
But Eulalia, behind Vulcan and unnoticed by him, called softly, “Vakna, Pegasus!” and sent a spell of her own down into the void beneath. She saw it strike the horse, saw those great wings once again begin to beat, and watched it skimming just above treetop height as it headed back towards Hagen.
Then Vulcan grabbed her. “Come on, witch, it’s time to stop messing around! Let’s get these women crucified!”
er, well actually she was thinking,
'hey, that sounds cool -
trouble is, you can never trust these big-mouths,
all threats and no jets...'
but decided that, under the circumstances, it might be prudent to keep on-message
and see what Merlin/ Paul can pull out of the bag...
'hey, that sounds cool -
trouble is, you can never trust these big-mouths,
all threats and no jets...'
but decided that, under the circumstances, it might be prudent to keep on-message
and see what Merlin/ Paul can pull out of the bag...
Quiet Paul
Tribune
No pressure then?!er, well actually she was thinking,
'hey, that sounds cool -
trouble is, you can never trust these big-mouths,
all threats and no jets...'
but decided that, under the circumstances, it might be prudent to keep on-message
and see what Merlin/ Paul can pull out of the bag...
Thanks for all the likes and encouraging comments! 
Sigh!
I'm really sorry, Eul, but it really looks as though I am just going to have to Chronicle some Crux....
Hi rb1956!
I tried to send you a private message to say thanks for all the encouraging comments on here, but I think you may have locked your pms.
So I'll thank you publicly!
W
er, well actually she was thinking,
'hey, that sounds cool -
trouble is, you can never trust these big-mouths,
all threats and no jets...'
but decided that, under the circumstances, it might be prudent to keep on-message
and see what Merlin/ Paul can pull out of the bag...
Sigh!
I'm really sorry, Eul, but it really looks as though I am just going to have to Chronicle some Crux....
Hi rb1956!
I tried to send you a private message to say thanks for all the encouraging comments on here, but I think you may have locked your pms.
So I'll thank you publicly!
W
nae problem Wragg, just teasing -
let the great story roll,
this girl's in merciless peril anyhow -
that's where she likes to be!
nae problem Wragg, just teasing -
let the great story roll,
this girl's in merciless peril anyhow -
that's where she likes to be!
Well, it's our favourite weekend of the year, so I think a Crux fest is in order