Adventure! RPG: Warlords of Tellus - Warlords of Tellus

[ProfPotts]

Foreword

CHAPTER ONE

IT is the spring of 1924 and all over the globe instances of mysterious disappearances have been on the increase for the past eighteen months. Unknown to humanity unearthly telluric mists have been appearing, seemingly at random, and transporting unwary souls across the vastness of the cosmos to an alien world known as Tellus.

MEANWHILE, on Tellus, the Tyrian forces of the evil Emperor K’reed the Conqueror, ruthless overlord of the planet’s many kingdoms, have been overjoyed to find new and exotic slave stock in the form of recently arrived humans. Under the surface of a society inured to constant conflict and oppression a few quiet murmurs begin to be uttered as those all too rare individuals brave enough to contemplate opposition to the Emperor’s reign of tyranny start to wonder how the arrival of this new race of beings may upset the balance of power.

IN the Emperor’s palace thoughts also turn towards the mystery of the humans as the awesome Imperial City, held aloft by mighty atomic furnaces and the amazing power of telluric crystals, slowly approaches a lonely outpost of the Empire – an outpost which has recently found itself of interest to the Emperor due to claims that it has acquired human slaves of particular value. In her lavish private apartments Princess K’ora, daughter of Emperor K’reed and heir apparent to the throne of Tellus, finds anticipation of the novelty which a genuine Earthman may bring the most exciting event in many long months…

[ProfPotts]

K’ora yawned and stretched, almost Feline in her grace as she moved under the sheets of pure Arachnian silk which caressed her shapely form. For a moment she laid back, eyes closed, and indulged once more in idle fantasy as she allowed her thoughts to run amok with speculation as to what unique pleasures and experiences this new race of ‘Earthmen’ could bring her. She’d seen some already, of course, as the first few captured had been paraded in front of her father’s court – so she found herself dismissing some of the wilder claims about their physical appearances – but she’d yet to have the opportunity to study one up close, to investigate for herself what capabilities and weaknesses such men possessed. Now, at last, she’d managed to manoeuvre herself into a position where her father would be willing to indulge her whims and fancies on the subject – although it had been a considerable chore playing the good daughter for such a long stretch of time. Still, if the rumours about this latest batch of slaves were true it would all have been worth the effort.

Reminding herself that she still had some way to go, that she didn’t have her latest pet quite yet, the Princess slipped from her bed, silk sheets slithering from her smooth lilac skin as she rose. Gloriously nude, she stepped through a nearby archway into her private baths, barely acknowledging that her body slaves had, as always, already prepared the pool with her favoured choice of exotic scents and oils. Relaxing back as she allowed the heat of the bath to infuse her body K’ora felt, on cue, skilled fingers begin to comb through the tresses of her long silver-blonde hair. Closing her eyes once more the Princess addressed the Ophidian slave girl,

‘Do you think there will be many suitors?’

For one short moment the Ophidian girl paused in her tending of the Princess’s hair, but quickly resumed as she replied quietly,

‘Your beauty always attracts many suitors, your Highness.’

K’ora smiled at the tactful response. While she knew it was no lie that she was indeed a great beauty – a fact she had learned to use as a most potent weapon – the truth of her situation was a little less glamorous and, tired of the charade of responsibility she’d been living under for the last few months, decided to say as much,

‘You mean to say that my father’s throne always attracts many suitors – that is the prize those fawning dolts seek. I am nought but a glittering key to that prize which my father, in his infinite wisdom, happily dangles in front of the many Kings and Princes of his court.’

‘Your Highness, please!’ the Ophidian’s tone was half-pleading, half-chiding, and K’ora found she couldn’t decide whether the girl was genuinely upset at her rather brutal assessment of the situation, or that she feared spies of the Emperor even then would be listening in on the conversation and reporting back any hints of treachery or malcontent. The Princess rather suspected the latter, but chose not to pursue the matter – tormenting the slaves was amusement fit only for days of boredom and routine, and this day promised to be so much more than that. With a slight shrug and a pout K’ora dropped the subject and allowed the girl to finish her work, adding the final touches of perfection to her already gorgeous Royal appearance.

*****

Clad in a minimalist outfit of straps and metal, cloak of Arachnian silk, and the horned crown which was her birthright, K’ora slumped into her throne on the main dais of the palace audience chamber and cast a weary glance around the room. So far events had been highly disappointing. The chamber was crowded with royalty, nobility, gentry, and officials gathered from kingdoms across the Empire – but to K’ora it was the same old routine. The lavish gifts and tributes being presented seemed, to her jaded tastes, to be lacklustre, and the equally lavish entertainments struck her as equally mundane. She had to stifle a yawn as yet another longwinded proclamation of her father’s virtues was recited by a worried looking minor provincial ruler: as a child she’d learned to make a game of guessing, by manner and words, which of the Imperial subjects had come up short on their tributes that season – but such distractions had long since lost any appeal to the Princess. This one, she knew the moment he stepped forward, would be begging poverty – the usual whining about famine or disaster or war or whatever other excuse they commonly tried in their pitiful attempts to claim mitigation for their failure to abide by Imperial decree. On occasion her father could be inventive in the cruelty of the punishments, penalties, and fines he levied on such reprobates, and on such occasions even K’ora’s jaded interest could be sparked, at least for a short while. But the Emperor hadn’t even arrived yet – and might not bother to attend – so even that sense of festivity was notably absent from the proceedings. Shifting her weight slightly on the throne K’ora again glanced around the room. Where were these Earthmen she’d be promised? If something exciting didn’t happen soon she just knew she’d scream…

[ezekiel]

"OUT OF THE WAY, MYSTICS!"

R'Garok, (stone)manhandles his way through a delegation of Red Mystics. Some briefly voice opposition but even those few who don't recognize the"Bone Crusher" from the gladiator ring stand back at the fearsome sight. Some Stonemen are sleek, statuesque and beautiful...

Not Grok.

The giant's greyish-brown body is covered in vicious jags and bumps. His hands are massive and craggy brows are furrowed into accusing peaks as he stares down those that look his way. At his neck is a state-of-the-art mind-collar of the strongest metals, a symbol a servitude...and artificially ensured loyalty.

"MAKE WAY FOR THE PRINCESS"

[Heritage]

"MAKE WAY FOR THE PRINCESS"

There is a minor flutter in the crowd as word passes that Princess Grenda of all people is about to enter the chamber! The youngest of the Lhan-Garan royal family has not been seen in court, or much at all, for several years; it's said that she's become a bit of a tomboy, having grown up in the wildest corner of her father's kingdom, and prefers hunting to the company of men. Perhaps she's one of those sorts of girls... ::sly

No one is quite prepared for the sleek and beautiful young Feline that purposefully strides in the shadow of the Stone Man. Her coat is dark black, and her long black hair is arranged into an elaborate spray of golden combs and circlets upon her head, her graceful limbs bearing golden armbands and bracelets marked with rubies and sapphires. Her dress is close-fitting and nearly sheer cream-colored Arachnian silk, covering most of her front but leaving her shoulders and entire silky ebon back exposed. On her feet she wears delicate gold-trimmed sandals that tinkle with tiny bells as she passes, and dark green eyes peer intently over a silken veil that hides most of her face.

The overall effect is quite potent. ::jaw

She is followed by another young Feline in a silvery dress, most attractive but careful not to outshine her mistress, with a smoky gray coat that turns to black on her hands, feet and around her face. Her deep blue eyes are playful flitting about the room as she whispers in the princess’ ear.

“So, a nice understated entrance, just as we planned?”

The princess seems to smile behind her veil.

“Precisely, Haltha, precisely.”

[phoenix]

Nick's Cave

The hard iron shackles popped open, and Nick’s red wrists fell down from above his head to the dirt floor by his ass. The impact woke him up, and he blinked, trying to take in his surroundings. They could have been better.

He was sitting on the floor of what looked like a cave, with about thirty or so other people, all wearing shackles and chains. Or at least, they looked like people at first glance. Actually, most of them looked more like lizards, or dinosaurs, perhaps. They were human-shaped, but some of them were taller and more muscular, and covered with dark scales. Some of them had tails and some didn’t. Others in the cave were covered in short fur, and had the ears and tails of a cat. Nick himself was wearing nothing but a green pair of boxers spangled with white shamrocks, but he didn’t ascribe any special meaning to that – he had been dressed like that when he lost consciousness.

Apparently he was still in Tellus, anyway. Rubbing his head and groaning, the Irish Earthman began loudly cursing "that treacherous mohawked Commie Santa Claus."

His vociferation attracted attention, and a tall man entered the cave. The poor lighting made his bare skin appear to be a livid purple. He was carrying an ornate metal rod about the size of a Coke bottle.

He pointed the rod at Nick, eyed the open shackles and Nick’s free wrists, and said, "Looks like it’s you, Earthman. Up and at ‘em."

Nick’s head hurt. He pushed away from the wall, and staggered to his feet.

"What am I doing here?" he asked.

The tall man walked silently past him, then circled around so that Nick was between him and the exit. He then pressed a button on the rod, and several long, crackling loops of bright electricity fell out of it. He rotated his hand, and suddenly the energy cycled around a few times like a flogger.

"What is this?" In the light of the electric whip’s bright lashes, Nick could see its user better, and took a step back in bewilderment.

"Out." The wielder of the energy whip held it up menacingly, and with his other hand pointed out the door.

Nick held up both hands, and started walking backwards.

The purple man nodded, and stayed where he was.

Seeing that he wasn’t being pursued, Nick turned, and walked forward out of the cave, empty-handed and wearing nothing but his shamrock boxers, and quickly looked around.

[Prince of Boredom]

The Ophidian leaned gently against one of the marble columns of the great audience chamber of the Emperor's Palace. It was his first time in the grand structure, and even he couldn't overlook the grand opulence of the place. He'd arrived at the beginning of the festivities, quietly mingling in with the throngs of nobility and gentry gathered to give tribute to Emperor K'reed; though it appeared for now that his daughter, K'ora, was to preside over court today.

He'd only heard tales of the beauty of the princess, believed that they were simply exaggerations meant to honor her; but now he understood that exageration was not possible. Though, he noted, hers was a cold, uncaring beauty; much the opposite of his current employer, whose beauty was only matched by her fire and emotion.

At the thought of Princess Grenda, his eyes began scanning the room once more. She would be arriving soon, and he was there to ensure all was safe for her entrance. His forked tongue tasted the air, sensing for anything that might be out of place. Satisfied that all was as it should be, he turned back towards the proceedings.

"MAKE WAY FOR THE PRINCESS"

The Ophidian smiled just slightly, he recognized the voice of Princess Grenda's personal Stoneman bodyguard. She had yet to learn the fine art of subtely; but, to her credit she was an expert at making a first impression.

Lowering his head slightly to meet his hand, The Ophidian gently brushes the hood of his cloak off of his smooth head. The cloak had been a gift of the Princess; it's color, the lush green of the forests of Lhan-Gar, complementing his dark olive green scales perfectly. And, unnoticed by all but the most astute observer, folds and pockets had been sewn into the cloak to enable him to carry the tools of his profession. Besides the cloak, he wore only a simple loincloth of black, matching the almost imperceptible bands that circled his biceps and thighs. Walking slowly towards the Princess' entourage, his bare feet treading silently across the marble floor, The Ophidian bows low at the waist in front of Princess Grenda and lightly kisses her hand and greets her,

"Princess, it is an honor..." and then more quietly, "I see no immediate threats."

[ProfPotts]

Imperial Court:

"MAKE WAY FOR THE PRINCESS"

The entrance of Princess Grenda's party causes murmurs to ripple through the assembled crowds - murmurs both of appreciation & trepidation as the eyes of many a male of noble birth can be seen drinking in the delicious sight of the high-born Feline femme... only to flicker uneasily across the craggy form of her Stone Man bodyguard...

On the great hall's dais Princess K'ora stirs at the disturbance, her glance seeking out the potential source of relief from the boredom which has, so far, categorized the event. The slightest of gestures brings a portly, robed, S'ram Mystic scurrying over to her side - a gentle inclination of her head towards Princess Grenda's party is all that is then required for the Imperial vizier to begin a whispered report...

Meanwhile a scantily clad Saurian slave-girl, ankles, wrists, neck & tail all caught in gilded shackles, with light chains of gold connecting them, glides over to Grenda & her entourage, tray in hands, & bows low, bended on one knee, to offer them crystal goblets of exquisite Emerald Ambrosia - a rare treat brought all the way from the distant, & perilous, Caverns of Eternal Pleasure, where it is distilled from the blossoms of the Widow's Orchid, a flower which is said to only bloom when fed with the heart's blood of true loves...

... someone is obviously trying to show off...

Slave Pens:

Back out in the light of day Nick is blinking a few times to get re-adjusted to the glare of the local sun... only to have a shadow draw across that sun like an eclipse...

... Glancing up the Earthman is taken aback by the sight he beholds - impossibly it appears that an entire city, all glittering spires & towers, floats suspended in the sky high overhead! Looking around to try to confirm that he's not alone in the incredible vision he's witnessing Nick notes that he appears to be in a jungle clearing, with that same strange mix of races dotted here & there - some appearing to be guards, others prisoners like himself. A crack from an electrowhip sends him, & the other prisoners, scuffling up the ramp to what appears to be a barge-like vessel - yet this too floats a few feet in the air, in total disregard for the laws of nature as Nick knows them, several orbs of glowing green crystal protruding from its flat-bottomed hull.

Once the selected prisoners are all on-board the 'sky ship' a grizzled looking tiger-striped Feline - a scarred, muscular, male with a patch over his left eye - touches a crystal-studded panel mounted on one side of the ship: rings of coruscating blue lightning leap into life around the twenty or so huddled individuals, forming an effective & (several of the less careful prisoners quickly discover) painful barrier to escape. Moments later the vessel lurches once, then smoothly lifts - with no obvious means of propulsion - into the air. It soon becomes clear that the strange vessel is heading towards the even stranger city in the sky...

[ezekiel]

Imperial Court:

The entrance of Princess Grenda's party causes murmurs to ripple through the assembled crowds - murmurs both of appreciation & trepidation as the eyes of many a male of noble birth can be seen drinking in the delicious sight of the high-born Feline femme... only to flicker uneasily across the craggy form of her Stone Man bodyguard...

On the great hall's dais Princess K'ora stirs at the disturbance, her glance seeking out the potential source of relief from the boredom which has, so far, categorized the event. The slightest of gestures brings a portly, robed, S'ram Mystic scurrying over to her side - a gentle inclination of her head towards Princess Grenda's party is all that is then required for the Imperial vizier to begin a whispered report...

Meanwhile a scantily clad Saurian slave-girl, ankles, wrists, neck & tail all caught in gilded shackles, with light chains of gold connecting them, glides over to Grenda & her entourage, tray in hands, & bows low, bended on one knee, to offer them crystal goblets of exquisite Emerald Ambrosia - a rare treat brought all the way from the distant, & perilous, Caverns of Eternal Pleasure, where it is distilled from the blossoms of the Widow's Orchid, a flower which is said to only bloom when fed with the heart's blood of true loves...

... someone is obviously trying to show off...

R'Garok thrust a stone hand between the princess and the slave.

"Hold.."

Grabbing a goblet with another hand, he sniffed at the content and sipped...with a nod he hands it back to the princess and stands aside.

[Heritage]

Walking slowly towards the Princess' entourage, his bare feet treading silently across the marble floor, The Ophidian bows low at the waist in front of Princess Grenda and lightly kisses her hand and greets her,

"Princess, it is an honor..." and then more quietly, "I see no immediate threats."

The princess smiles, judging from her eyes, and inclines her head slightly.

"Thank you, ambassador."

Just under her breath, she whispers.

"As always, I am glad to have you at my side. Is there word of my sister?"

R'Garok thrust a stone hand between the princess and the slave.

"Hold.."

Grabbing a goblet with another hand, he sniffed at the content and sipped...with a nod he hands it back to the princess and stands aside.

Grenda delicately takes the goblet from the stony giant, carefully raises her veil, and takes but the smallest sip of the nectar, and savors it as it slips past her tongue. She then bows deeply in the direction of the throne.

"It is magnificent, as are all things in the Imperial City; our hosts are far too generous to this unworthy wretch."

[Prince of Boredom]

The princess smiles, judging from her eyes, and inclines her head slightly.

"Thank you, ambassador."

Just under her breath, she whispers.

"As always, I am glad to have you at my side. Is there word of my sister?"

The Ophidian bows again, "As always, it is a pleasure Your Highness."

And then again whispers, "I have heard nor seen anything, but I will keep my eyes open."

With that, he again melds back into the gentry and keeps watch to ensure Princess Grenda's safety.

[Centimane]

The midnight black Stoneman could almost have been mistaken for a strangely shaped mound of basalt, so still was he as he knelt in the middle of his cell. In his mind's eye he had conjured the image of a glowing ember, brilliant orange and red, floating in the empty blackness of his thought. Now he watched and meditated as it cooled, slowly but inexorably turning to cold dead ash. So life turned to death, and by meditating upon it, he acknowledged this, accepted it. Prepared himself for it.

When his conjured ember had turned to ash he would embrace it with his mind and place it at his center. Thus he embraced the death that came to all. By holding it in his heart, he would know death by long association so that, when it finally came for him, it would be no stranger and he would embrace it with open arms. No true warrior should be a stranger to fire or ash.

A key turned quickly in the door to his cell and it banged open with a protesting shriek, the noise disturbing his mental visualization like a sudden wind, blowing out the ember and carrying away the ash with its passing. Gro-Khash's eyes snapped open. The perfect orbs of crystallized blood that had been hidden behind his lids locked onto the eyes of the interloper for a moment. Then Gro-Khash remembered his place, and his discipline, and looked down.

The guard flinched visibly under the stare, and immediately looked away, but recovered quickly - once Gro-Khash had averted his own eyes.

"Up and at 'em, Obsidian! You're up for another show. Assuming you survive, you can meditate all you like when you get back."

Though the guard's tone was rough and commanding, there was no hint of disrepect or antagonism in his voice. Slave or not, Gro-Khash was still a war hero. Plus the guards were all terrified of him. And his eyes. Which just goes to show that prison guards aren't quite as stupid as everyone says they are.

Gro-Khash rose to his knees, putting him almost at eye-level with his escort, then he bobbed to his feet and marched out the door without looking to see if the guard would follow.

"I'm ready " , he said to no one in particular.

[phoenix]

A city in the sky.

Nick had heard Tepur'eh say something about a city in the sky, but he'd written it off as a figure of speech until now.

Based on what had happened to the over-eager dissenters when they touched the field surrounding their shared pen, it seemed that escape would have to wait. Besides, the air boat had already attained enough height that it would be dangerous to fall.

So, he would bide his time. Nick closed his eyes, settled his weight as best he could into his legs by taking a half-crouch, and reached out before him as though balancing by holding a post at waist level.

I wait, then.

[ProfPotts]

The Imperial Court:

"Hold.."

The Saurian slave-girl flinches at R'Garok's intervention, even the desert-bred instincts of her tough race shying away from the craggy surface of the intimidating Stoneman; yet she manages to not spill a drop of the precious Ambrosia - testament to the complete indoctrination into a subserviant mindset which only comes with the harshest of Imperial slave training.

On her throne Princess K'ora allows herself a small smile as the Stoneman bodyguard sips the drink: the erotic effects of Emerald Ambrosia were delightful & well documented, but she was yet to see what it did to a Stoneman... especially a brute such as this upstart Princess Grenda was parading...

... the Imperial smile fades as quickly as it manifested as R'Garok hands the drink on with seemingly zero effect - although the expression is replaced by a quizically raised eyebrow as K'ora's narrow gaze - full of devious intellect - scans over the collar around the slave bodyguard's neck...

"It is magnificent, as are all things in the Imperial City; our hosts are far too generous to this unworthy wretch."

Even as she speaks Princess Grenda feels the heady warmth of the Emerald nectar flowing pleasantly through her body, seemingly heightening the sensations around her so that even the gentle caress of her Arachnian silk dress feels more akin to the intimate strokes of a skilled lover's tenderest embraces, & the scents from the males around her threaten to send her straight into heat... Even that lump of stone R'Garok starts to look good... ::blush

... However, before Grenda has much time to react, Princess K'ora waves her over with an imperious gesture. Leaning forward, the Imperial heir apparant looks Grenda up & down, then casts her eyes over the gathered crowd - which obligingly parts to leave Grenda (& entourage) standing alone before the throne. Fixing Grenda's eyes with her own Princess K'ora speaks with a clear voice which carries across, & silences, the gathered ranks of Tellus nobility,

'You seem familiar to me,' K'ora begins, her tone casual & innocent, even though her eyes dance with mischevious light, 'I seem to recall my Father claiming a pet like you a while ago...' Feinting deep thought for a moment Princess K'ora then smiles, as if suddenly remembering, '... ah yes, some provincial ruler paid his taxes in flesh...' Once more her gaze settles firmly on Grenda, '... so I suppose that makes you some younger daughter, hmmm? Has your daddy come up short again? I know Father likes to collect sets, but really - some things are so last season. What was his name again? Your father, I mean, "princess" - he's the local figurehead, is he not? Has he no better entertainment than to send the likes of you to my Father's bed? I was promised sport... sport with exceptional humans... & I do so hate to be disappointed...' ::sly

Dizzying Heights:

Nick's wait is a brief one as the 'sky ship' crests the rim of the floating city (a rim, Nick notes, festooned with cannons & other military hardware) & soars onwards towards a glorious collection of peaks, spires, & towers which dominate the very centre of the massive structure. By his elbow the Irishman hears one of his fellow detainees mutter, in awed fear, 'The Imperial Palace!'.

Soon enough the sky ship drifts down to 'land' (or at least hover inches above) one of the many courtyards of the magnificent palace. Any thoughts of escape Nick's contemplating are once again delayed as scores of heavily armed guards - all well-muscled men with purple skin, wearing fearsome face-concealing helmets & flowing silk cloaks - rush forward to first quiz the one-eyed tiger-man on his credentials, then (once all is apparantly seen to be in order) aid in unloading the prisoners. As they are marched off the ship it seems that the captives are being sorted into different groups...

'Not that one!'

Nick's path is suddenly blocked by a coiled whip in the clawed hand of the grizzled tiger-man. His one good eye narrowing the Feline growls deeply, gesturing for a group of guards to restrain Nick, then lash his arms together behind his back. Placing the leather of his whip under Nick's chin the one-eyed Feline forces the Irishman to look up, & scrutinises his features,

'Yes... I thought so... This one's scheduled for an Imperial audience...'

There's unconcealed menace in the Feline's words, & several of the guards chuckle unpleasantly in response while, out of the corner of his eye, Nick notices more than a few of his fellow captives turn their heads away as the colour drains from their features...

The Imperial Court (take 2):

As usual the Obsidian paused to linger in the shadows at the side entrance to the great hall, waiting for his cue to enter, barely acknowledging the guards flanking the archway, or those which had accompanied him from the cells. There was a reasonable crowd of nobility & gentry in attendance - a glance at the dais confirmed that it was Princess K'ora, rather than the Emperor himself, presiding over the event: the Legionaire had noted during past combats that the daughter was somewhat less blood-thirsty than the father &, typical he supposed of privalaged youth, tended to enjoy more 'flashy' exhibitions of battle prowess. Still, it made little difference in the end - the goal was to win... the goal was always to win.

Scanning the crowd with the crimson stones he calls eyes Gro-Khash notes several beings possessed of the tell-tale manerisms of trained warriors: bodyguards, soldiers, even a few of the nobility - but none appear to be his opponent for the evening. What's more it appears that the bout itself is some way off, as Princess K'ora is in the process of addressing a young Feline noblewoman who, even stone-hearted Gro-Khash has to admit, threatens to rival the heir apparant herself in sheer sex appeal...

The Imperial Court (take 3):

Bustled down a series of corridors, past untold numbers of guards, servants, & slaves, Nick is finally ordered to halt just within an archway leading to what appears to be a large audiance chamber of some variety.

Peering into the chamber the Earthman is witness to what he is fast realising is the 'typical' mixture of Tellus races - although in this case the quality of the finery on display suggests that these people are a social cut above the average: even the slaves in attendance seem to be dressed well, some going so far as to sport gold manacles!

Dominating the far end of the room is a raised dais on which sits, enthroned, an absolute knock-out of a young lady - one of the purple skinned variety, & clad in one of the next-to-nothing outfits the local females seem so keen on. The horned headpiece she sports could well be a crown of some sort, & her regal attitude definately screams 'royalty'. She appears to be addressing a small group of characters singled out in front of the dais - a group which appears to be led by a young Feline female every bit as attractive, in her own way, as the 'Queen' figure on the throne...

[Heritage]

The Imperial Court:

Even as she speaks Princess Grenda feels the heady warmth of the Emerald nectar flowing pleasantly through her body, seemingly heightening the sensations around her so that even the gentle caress of her Arachnian silk dress feels more akin to the intimate strokes of a skilled lover's tenderest embraces, & the scents from the males around her threaten to send her straight into heat... Even that lump of stone R'Garok starts to look good... ::blush

As the waves of pleasure spread through her body, the princess curses herself for being so foolish as to accept anything from an Imperial, especially in front of the entire court; at the same time, the sensation is exquisite, and she longs to revel in it, but dares not, not now.

'You seem familiar to me,' K'ora begins, her tone casual & innocent, even though her eyes dance with mischevious light, 'I seem to recall my Father claiming a pet like you a while ago...' Feinting deep thought for a moment Princess K'ora then smiles, as if suddenly remembering, '... ah yes, some provincial ruler paid his taxes in flesh...' Once more her gaze settles firmly on Grenda, '... so I suppose that makes you some younger daughter, hmmm? Has your daddy come up short again? I know Father likes to collect sets, but really - some things are so last season. What was his name again? Your father, I mean, "princess" - he's the local figurehead, is he not? Has he no better entertainment than to send the likes of you to my Father's bed? I was promised sport... sport with exceptional humans... & I do so hate to be disappointed...' ::sly

With great effort, Grenda tries to control her breathing as she is flushed with conflicting desires, on the one hand to leap across the space between her and K'ora and rip her throat out with her teeth, and on the other to lie with the cruel beauty in the Imperial bed. She removes her veil, forces a smile and bows even deeper.

"My father...is King Tarasco, of the Lhan-Gar, and my sister Barastala does indeed....have the pleasure of entertaining the Emperor, if it pleases him."

Grenda carefully scans the crowd, hoping to catch the eye of the Ophidian so that he might know the depth of her peril, then she turns her wild green eyes back to the Imperial princess.

"You speak of sport, your celestial highness...what did you have in mind? We simple provincials might not be as...sophisticated as some, but the reflected glory of the Imperial City may inspire even us to produce...an entertainment that may hold you interest, even if but for a passing moment."

[ezekiel]

R'Garok eyes the crowd, making sure that no one gets too close to the royalty...

[phoenix]

"You great ****ing wankers! Getoff me this minute!" Nick struggles and kicks as the guards lash his wrists together behind his back.

Presumably, they pay Nick no heed, and manhandle him past security and through corridors, and eventually into the massive chamber populated by the same strange mix of peoples.

The Imperial Court

For a moment, Nick stands idly in the door.

He looks around, and gradually perceives...

--the voluptuous panther-girl speaking delicately to the imperious, yet stunningly gorgeous, purple-skinned princess.

--the massive, craggy stone man trying to scan the room.

--the mobs of the wealthy and subservient, slaves and aristocrats intermingling and blending, a sensation of tense manipulation by those with no place to bargain from, and no way to stop themselves from being someone else's instead of their own.

Nick Baker steps into the ring, ignoring orders from the robed guards, and into full view of the Princesses, their guards and their fawning court.

He is lean and muscular, with wide shoulders for the size of his waist. He's also half-naked, wearing nothing but a pair of green boxers spangled with a white shamrock pattern, and his wrists are tied behind his back. He surveys the arena and the audience beyond. Nearly everyone there gets the impression of meeting his brown eyes for some fraction of a second.

He's standing tall and proud, and carrying himself like a weapon.

And he does not look happy.

[Centimane]

As Gro-Khash surveyed the crowds he was, as always, filled with a mixture of emotions. On the one hand he was exhilarated by the prospect of meating a fellow warrior in deadly combat, but on the other hand he was disgusted that the sacred rituals of conflict and death were used as mere entertainment for the masses. Though the Emperor and his house might believe that the Obsidian gave his all in each match for their viewing pleasure, nothing could be further from the truth. Gro-Khash cared nothing for the watching crowds, royal or otherwise.

He dishonored himself and his opponent if he gave anything less than his all, and worse still, he would soil the holy union of life, struggle, conflict, and death. When he defeated his opponents, Gro-Khash wanted them to know beyond any shadow of a doubt that their death was a gift, a soft bed, assembled and delivered to them by a master craftsman and that they could accept it gratefully and with honor. And when the day came that Gro-Khash was defeated, he would make sure that he had given his all so that when death found him and laid him down on the final bed of Ash, he could be sure in his heart that he had earned his rest.

Seeing the assembly near the Throne, Gro-Khash felt a little sorry for the poor Feline, whoever she was. He thought it unlikely that Princess K'ora was as pleased as he by the sight of the lovely, ebony-furred Feline who presented such an obvious distraction from her own beauty. His interest was briefly sparked by the sight of a fellow Stoneman amongst the assembly, but even from here he could tell that he wasn't a Basalt, a Brother of Blood. The Stoneman was certainly impressive and imposing however, and Gro-Khash could only wish that it would be he who would be facing him in the arena today. But that was unlikely. It was rare that he was allowed to face opponents of such obviously high calibre.

Suddenly a human stepped into the ring of the Arena, completely ignoring the angry guards behind it (who were, in all likelihood, soon to be punished for their incompetence). Gro-Khash had heard of these creatures, but this was the first he'd ever seen and he watched it with great curiosity. It certainly was small, like most soft-bodies, but something told Gro-Khash that this one would be able to handle itself in a fight.

Watching the thing standing there with its wrists bound behind it, staring defiantly at the gathered throngs, Gro-Khash felt uplifted. He began to suspect that this human would provide a true challenge and a glorious battle where so many others had failed. A smile spread itself across his face for the first time in a very long while. Suddenly he began to laugh, a low rumbling coming from deep within his chest that sounded more like the beginnings of an avalanche than of mirth, and causing the two guards flanking him to cast nervous glances in his direction. Gro-Khash no longer felt merely uplifted, he felt exhilerated, suddenly sure that this day would bring the very Inferno itself into this place.

In his mind's eye, the ember had returned, and it was glowing redly. Today was going to be a good day!

[ProfPotts]

"My father...is King Tarasco, of the Lhan-Gar, and my sister Barastala does indeed....have the pleasure of entertaining the Emperor, if it pleases him."

Princess K'ora leans back in her throne, fingers steepled in front of her as she contemplates Grenda's response with narrowed eyes...

"You speak of sport, your celestial highness...what did you have in mind? We simple provincials might not be as...sophisticated as some, but the reflected glory of the Imperial City may inspire even us to produce...an entertainment that may hold you interest, even if but for a passing moment."

A cruel smile twists K'ora's luscious lips,

'As you say "Princess" - you provincials can hardly be held to the standards of...'

The heir apparant's words are cut short as, accompanied by a sudden twittering of murmurs from the assembled court, the muscular human prisoner makes his presence known - stepping boldly forward into the empty circle of floor left around Grenda's party when they were first targeted addressed by Princess K'ora.

Immediately, from his position just to the side of the great dais, the Imperial executioner steps towards Nick - does this foolish Earthman not realise that it is death to interupt a member of the Imperial family in such a manner? The executioner is a Tyrian male with incredibly bulging muscles & popping veins, stripped to the waist he wears only Ophidian skin britches & heavy boots of Saurian hide reinforced with Mordium - the metal alloy smelted from the tortured forms of captive Stonemen. On his head, & concealing his features, is a full helm constructed of the bone of many sentient beings, whilst in his hand is the long silvery-metal staff which denotes his high office. It is the butt of this staff which he strikes once, firmly, upon the floor in front of him - instantly a scythe-blade of crackling, glowing, energy manifests as the head of the weapon. The crowd hold their collective breath... ::ohmy

'STOP!'

Princess K'ora's command not only stops, but freezes the executioner in mid-swing! After a moment of deep breathing he takes a step back away from Nick, lowers the staff as the energy-blade splutters & vanishes, then resumes his previous position near the dais - pausing only to bow deeply to Princess K'ora on his way.

For several long seconds K'ora's own breathing is deep (a much more attractive effect... ::blush ) & her eyes wide with... it's hard to tell - perhaps something between white-hot rage & near-panic - but the emotion fades fast & the Imperial Princess is soon in full control of herself once more. Settling back in her throne, an accustomed near-smile of smug superiority touching her lips, K'ora indulges in a visual examination of the human - her eyes rovering lazily up his near-sculpted form. Gaze remaining on Nick she once more addresses her comments to Grenda,

'Mayhap we were too hasty in dismissing the more... provincial... entertainments. This one... intrigues... us...' ::sly

The Imperial Princess's eyes linger on the Earthman a moment longer, then she glances once more at Grenda,

'Tell me, dear country cousin, where did you find such a... healthy... specimen?' ::devil

... Mingling with the crowd The Ophidian is close to the entrance the Earthman emerged from when he notices Khan - the eye-patch wearing grizzled tiger-man Feline general of King Tarasco's armies - emerge from the corridor, take one quick assessing glance at the scene in the hall, then punch one of the Earthman's guards in the stomach (he crumples like a rag-doll), & pin the other to the wall by his neck. Claws squeezing to emphasise his words he hisses quietly into the guard's ear,

'What, by the goddess's teats, is going on here?! King Tarasco will be here any moment, & you've let his tribute be presented by that wayward cub of his?! I swear I'll have your guts for my bowstrings...' General Khan's words trail off to become a low, menacing, growl... ::angry

[phoenix]

'STOP!'

Nick, unquestionably saved by the princess's intervention, contemptuously stares down the purple-skinned executioner as though he had defeated him fair and square.

However, after the brute bows to his princess and her attention turns to him, Nick bows politely to her as well. No reason not to ingratiate yourself now -- this one can obviously control what happens to you from here. Or thinks she can.

When K'ora turns back to Grenda and begins speaking to her, Nick begins nonchalantly to try to free his hands from their imprisonment. He's hoping everyone will be too afraid of the Princess to interfere before it's too late. But if it's too difficult to untie, or someone looks like they're going to actually step in and stop him, he'll behave... for now.

[Prince of Boredom]

... Mingling with the crowd The Ophidian is close to the entrance the Earthman emerged from when he notices Khan - the eye-patch wearing grizzled tiger-man Feline general of King Tarasco's armies - emerge from the corridor, take one quick assessing glance at the scene in the hall, then punch one of the Earthman's guards in the stomach (he crumples like a rag-doll), & pin the other to the wall by his neck. Claws squeezing to emphasise his words he hisses quietly into the guard's ear,

'What, by the goddess's teats, is going on here?! King Tarasco will be here any moment, & you've let his tribute be presented by that wayward cub of his?! I swear I'll have your guts for my bowstrings...' General Khan's words trail off to become a low, menacing, growl... ::angry

It never failed to amaze him the lack of subtlety of the Felines, and especially that one.

The Ophidian silently maneuvers his way behind Khan, and whispers in his ear, "I would be careful what you sssay, and to whom you sssay it. You never know who might be lissstening, and sssome may interpret your commentsss about the Princessss of Lhan-Gar as treasonousss..."

He then again turns his attention to Princess Grenda to ensure she is still safe.

[ezekiel]

When K'ora turns back to Grenda and begins speaking to her, Nick begins nonchalantly to try to free his hands from their imprisonment. He's hoping everyone will be too afraid of the Princess to interfere before it's too late. But if it's too difficult to untie, or someone looks like they're going to actually step in and stop him, he'll behave... for now.

Not wanting to interrupt the talking princesses, R'Garok steps towards the earthman to catch his attention. He puts a hand in a pouch hanging at his side and takes an orange sized stone out of it. He extends his arm straight out, showing the stone to the earthman...and squeezes as he eyes our boxer clad intrepid hero with an eye-popping look that can only mean 'this could be your head'.

*crack* ::ohmy

[phoenix]

::blink Nick blinks hard at R'Garok's display of brute force.

His shoulders stop wriggling.

[Centimane]

As the executioner stepped forward, Gro-Khash stopped laughing abruptly. Not because of the executioner himself (personally, he'd always found it impossible to take the Tyrian seriously), but out of respect for the soon to be dead. But then, rather surprisingly, the Princess brought it all to a halt and it seemed that the human would be allowed to live - at least for now.

Gro-Khash continued to stand at ease, just inside the archway, and watched unobserved as events unfolded. He noted the disciplining of the soldiers who had let the human pass and saw, without understanding its significance, the Ophidian step up behind the Feline doing the disciplining (the thing just sort of appeared out of nowhere it seemed, but this wasn't exactly surprising since Ophidians were always doing that sort of thing - kind of annoying actually). Then his attention was distracted by the other Stoneman's display of strength, and he watched to see what the human's reaction would be. Personally, he thought R'Garok's demonstration to be overkill, but it certainly seemed to produce the desired result, so there was no arguing its effectiveness.

Gro-Khash continued to stand at ease, just inside the archway, but he was starting to become impatient for the chance to hit something. And with all that was going on out there, he felt a little left out, truth be told. But a (Stone)man in his position had to know how to wait, or the long hours spent in one's cell quickly became intolerable.

So Gro-Khash continued to stand at ease.

[Heritage]

'Tell me, dear country cousin, where did you find such a... healthy... specimen?' ::devil

Still suffering (or perhaps enjoying) the effects of the elixer, the Lhan-garan princess is herself quite taken by the human male; true, his bare alien skin is pale and soft, but it glistens with perspiration, and its smell...is quite heady. She is about to respond to the Imperial princess when the energy blade is raised and just as quickly halted, and despite herself Grenda knows a quiver of fear, for to be in the court of the Emperor is to stand in the presence of death, cold and capricious. At last she repilies, choosing her words carefully.

"I do not know where this thing was found, your Imperial Highness, for I have only recently arrived from the Primarj, my small estate; as I understand, they have been encountered throughout the Emperor's realm, with little or no explanation."

Grenda pauses as she very frankly appraises him.

"It is not without some pleasant attributes, a healthy specimen from the look of it."

Noting the Stoneman champion, she extends a delicate hand in Gro-Khash's direction.

"Perhaps a combat, between rock and stone and flesh and bone, would suit your tastes this day? Though I fear it may provide but a moment's interest."

When the Ophidan steps forward to chastise Khan, the princess must hide a small smile; she has never liked the general, and this small humiliation pleases her greatly.

[ProfPotts]

"I would be careful what you sssay, and to whom you sssay it. You never know who might be lissstening, and sssome may interpret your commentsss about the Princessss of Lhan-Gar as treasonousss..."

Khan goes stiff & silent as the Ophidian's sibilant tones caress his ear... it takes a few moments before the fierce one-eyed General steels himself to turn on the preternatural attendant of the Princess. Khan's reputation is well known to The Ophidian - he's a consumate warrior who is afraid of nothing in nature - but then again, it's the Ophidian's business to walk beyond the mere natural... & that's something a practical cat like Khan has a hard time dealing with...

'Save your council for your Mistress, snake,' Khan hisses the whispered reply back to the Ophidian, 'I may well ask what treason of yours allowed her to end up in this situation in the first place.' ::angry

*crack*

Watching the other Stoneman's display of strength it suddenly dawns on Gro-Khash that he knows the craggy figure - at least by reputation. Throughout the ranks of the gladiators there is one who is spoken of with universal admiration, awe, & fear: a powerful Stoneman with a vice grip who was famed for strength, skill, agility, & snapping the bones of his opponents - R'garok, the one they called the 'Bone Crusher'. In his days as a champion gladiator the Bone Crusher was undefeated - no matter how unevenly the odds were stacked against him, he would always prevail; it is even said that, in the end, he specialised in single-handedly defeating entire groups of enemy gladiators - & still no way was found to defeat him. The stories go on to tell that, tired of the one-sided nature of the Bone Crusher's bouts, the Emperor eventually sold him to some provincial king - refusing to let the champion walk free (as was his right as victor) for fear of his power & reputation, yet unwilling to destroy such an artist of pain & death. The Bone Crusher's statue holds pride of place in the training halls of the Imperial gladiatorial school - & will always remain there unless another can, somehow, better his incredible record of undeafeated fights. ::ohmy

"Perhaps a combat, between rock and stone and flesh and bone, would suit your tastes this day? Though I fear it may provide but a moment's interest."

Princess K'ora listens to Grenda's words with interest, a sly smile playing at her lips as her eyes narrow,

'Perhaps...' she agrees, an expression of contemplation passing across her fine Imperial features as she does so, her gaze wondering first across Nick, then once more to Grenda, '... but I feel an owner should have more pride in her fighting stock. The terms will be as follows: your Earth-man will fight the Imperial champion - to the death. If your creature prevails then it will take the place of our Obsidian Legionaire as Imperial champion; if, on the other hand, it is defeated by Gro-Khash, then you, my dear "princess" will join your sister as my gift to my loving father... he does so love to collect full sets...' ::sly

The Imperial heir's words sound as though they are definately a command, rather than a suggestion... ::unsure

Although he has no need of being told, Gro-Khash's escort indicate that he is to step forward & present himself before the throne...

[Centimane]

Watching the other Stoneman's display of strength it suddenly dawns on Gro-Khash that he knows the craggy figure - at least by reputation. Throughout the ranks of the gladiators there is one who is spoken of with universal admiration, awe, & fear: a powerful Stoneman with a vice grip who was famed for strength, skill, agility, & snapping the bones of his opponents - R'garok, the one they called the 'Bone Crusher'. In his days as a champion gladiator the Bone Crusher was undefeated - no matter how unevenly the odds were stacked against him, he would always prevail; it is even said that, in the end, he specialised in single-handedly defeating entire groups of enemy gladiators - & still no way was found to defeat him. The stories go on to tell that, tired of the one-sided nature of the Bone Crusher's bouts, the Emperor eventually sold him to some provincial king - refusing to let the champion walk free (as was his right as victor) for fear of his power & reputation, yet unwilling to destroy such an artist of pain & death. The Bone Crusher's statue holds pride of place in the training halls of the Imperial gladiatorial school - & will always remain there unless another can, somehow, better his incredible record of undeafeated fights.

As Gro-Khash realized just who his fellow Stoneman was his already buoyant spirits rose just a little higher. Today was certainly turning out to be a good day!

Although he has no need of being told, Gro-Khash's escort indicate that he is to step forward & present himself before the throne...

Gro-Khash stepped forward and strode purposefully towards the imperial throne. He stopped when he stood abreast of the human, and made proper obeisance to the Imperial Princess. Then he stood, tall and proud with his feet spaced shoulder width apart and his hands clasped loosely behind his back, and he waited.

[phoenix]

Nick accepts his sentence stonily, and without comment. He straightens, and with a contemptuous look at R'Garok and at the muscle-bound executioner, walks up to the executioner and turns his back. He then raises his bound wrists behind him, silently requesting that the wielder of the energy scythe use it to remove the bonds.

[Prince of Boredom]

Khan goes stiff & silent as the Ophidian's sibilant tones caress his ear... it takes a few moments before the fierce one-eyed General steels himself to turn on the preternatural attendant of the Princess. Khan's reputation is well known to The Ophidian - he's a consumate warrior who is afraid of nothing in nature - but then again, it's the Ophidian's business to walk beyond the mere natural... & that's something a practical cat like Khan has a hard time dealing with...

'Save your council for your Mistress, snake,' Khan hisses the whispered reply back to the Ophidian, 'I may well ask what treason of yours allowed her to end up in this situation in the first place.' ::angry

The Ophidian stares coldy into Khan's eyes, "Never quessstion the loyalty of an Ophidian general; I should think you would know that. My place is not to control the Princesss, only to keep an eye on thossse who might caussse her harm. Ressst assured that isss exactly what I am doing, general."

The Ophidian flicks his tongue, tasting the air, then turns his attention to the galdiators, and again slips back into the crowd.

[phoenix]

A Moment of Violence

Faced with Nick's bound wrists and the Earthman's unspoken demand, the muscle-bound, veiny Tyrian looks to his Princess for guidance -- but there is none to be found, as K'ora is busy goading Grenda. Still breathing hard from her command to him earlier, the executioner activates the energy blade, and carefully -- slowly -- interposes it between Nick's wrists, nervously cutting through the rope bonds... and bringing the very end of the staff into the reach of Nick's hands. ::devil

"KIAAA!"

Nick grabs the staff and whips around, rounding on the executioner with a whirling snap kick that lands solidly on the big Tyrian's jaw, breaking it with an audible CRACK! The heavy boots lose their purchase, and the executioner tumbles backwards, disarmed.

Nick adjusts his grip on the energy scythe, then whirls it dramatically in the air. This Earthman suddenly seems an order of magnitude more dangerous, especially to the more seasoned warriors in the group of onlookers...

[OOC: Okay, this is Nick using Dramatic Editing for a minor onscreen effect after a PM with Prof.]

[ezekiel]

R'Garok quickly steps in front and between the princesses, attempting to shield both equally with his large stone body, as he pulls out another large stone from his sling bag. He holds it up, at the ready for shamrock target practice... ::sly

[phoenix]

Nick sees R'Garok and holds up an arm.

"Hold, ye gargoyle!"

[Centimane]

Like quicksilver at midnight, Gro-Khash had dropped into a defensive position the instant the human had let loose with its wild yell. By the time it'd brought the staff around Gro-Khash was more than ready to defend himself.

Then the human had seemed to change its mind about attacking. First it wants to fight, then it doesn't. This whole thing was obviously over his head.

Well, back to waiting then. Gro-Khash didn't leave his defensive position.

[Heritage]

Startled by the sudden movements of both the human and the Obsidian champion, Princess Grenda thinks this might not be the best place to have a battle. She steps around her massive bodyguard and addresses the escaped slave, hands on her shapely hips and green eyes bright with the fire of the hunt.

"Stay your weapon, human - a great warrior you may be among your own people, but you are on a new world, greatly outnumbered by foes the likes of which you have never faced. You have no ally and but one weapon; true, you may slay a number of us, but you will be defeated, and your people will know nothing of your valiant but pointless death. Think quickly now - is this the day you choose to die?"

[ProfPotts]

"KIAAA!"

The Earthman's sudden burst of action catches the court by surprise - slaves aren't meant to act like that! ::ohmy

The two Stonemen standing in front of the throne prove their race's warrior reputation as Gro-Khash takes a defensive stance, & R'Garok selflessly imposes himself between Royalty & the now-all-too-armed human... It's several moments later when the Imperial guardsmen positioned around the room think to react to the unprecidented upset...

Standing, Princess K'ora begins to gesture to the Imperial guards, only for the Earthman to once more surprise the assembled court...

"Hold, ye gargoyle!"

... causing K'ora to hesitate in her orders: was the Earthman just trying to save his own hide, or did he really want to avoid hurting the Stoneman? For a brief moment K'ora's brow furrows with doubt - this human was obviously a warrior trained, but... No... he must just be scared & confused to find himself in the Imperial presence... no other explaination made any sense...

"Stay your weapon, human - a great warrior you may be among your own people, but you are on a new world, greatly outnumbered by foes the likes of which you have never faced. You have no ally and but one weapon; true, you may slay a number of us, but you will be defeated, and your people will know nothing of your valiant but pointless death. Think quickly now - is this the day you choose to die?"

K'ora raises a quizical eyebrow at Grenda's comments - mayhap the kitten had more Royalty in her than K'ora had first assumed? Who would have guessed that such diplomacy could come from such a young cat? Still, it would have been interesting to see just how far the Earthman could have gotten on his own... With a heartfelt sigh Princess K'ora gestures for the Imperial guards to stay their weapons...

'STOP!'

The command booms out, filling the entire hall & causing all heads to turn towards the entrance of Emperor K'reed himself. Striding into the hall the Emperor is an imposing Tyrian man, clad in an ornate military uniform of Arachnian silk complete with flowing cape & glossy black metal skullcap. Unlike most Tyrians he sports a long moustache ('Fu-manchu' style) & small pointed triangle of beard on his chin, waxed to curve up slightly at the tip. At his waist he wears both a scimitar & pistol-style lightning gun - the professional ease at which the weapons sit suggest that combat is a well-known companion to this man.

Perhaps more important than the Emperor himself are the score of elite Imperial guards who escort him into the hall: each a muscular Tyrian man wearing the guard's uniform of heavy boots, trousers, metal-studded leather harness crossed across the chest, ankle-length Arachnian silk cape, full head helmet, & heavy leather gauntlets. Each wields a large halberd-style metal polearm. At a slight signal from the Emperor the guards already in the room (maybe two dozen more) quickly move forward to form a cordon between the crowd of courtiers & those few left standing in the centre of the action...

Folding his arms across his chest K'reed takes in the spectacle before him: the Imperial Executioner on his back, a common slave in possession of his weapon & symbol of office, two Stonemen standing there... doing, it seems, little about it... & in the middle of it all, his daughter & hier...::angry

Not one to mess about K'reed quickly issues his orders,

'Execute them all - apart from the Feline. She we will use for our pleasure... or perhaps that out our guardsmen if she proves too tiresome...' ::devil ::sly

Several guardsmen move forward to carry out K'reeds instructions... only for the first to tumble off his feet as a rock hurled by R'Garok explodes into powder as it strikes his helmet! As the court is still reeling from this second display of unprecidented resistance the Stoneman once known as the Bonecrusher has leapt onto the dais & grabbed Princess K'ora - holding her in front of him with his arm around her neck!

Anger threatening to overwhelm him K'reed's words hiss through gritted teeth,

'What is the meaning of this? How dare you lay a hand on the Imperial presence?' ::angry

[ezekiel]

'What is the meaning of this? How dare you lay a hand on the Imperial presence?' angry.gif

The massive stoneman pulls the princess back with him, towards Princess Grenda as he tries to shield her from any guards that may wish to take a hostage of their own. He briefly eyes the obsidian stoneman and earthman as he backs up, trying to gauge the gladiator and spear wielder as potential allies in this dicey situation...

Reaching back with his free hand, he pulls out another stone from his quickly depleting supply of missiles and raises it menacingly.

[phoenix]

"Think quickly now - is this the day you choose to die?"

Nick glares at Grenda. "Feline, it is not. But..." ::angry

'Execute them all - apart from the Feline. She we will use for our pleasure... or perhaps that out our guardsmen if she proves too tiresome...'

His eyes still on the condemned Grenda, Nick suddenly grins, despite having been interrupted.

"Come on now Princess, perk up. Even if I won your freedom in the ring, you'd still have been his whore forever. At least now we both have a fighting shot!" ::sly

He watches, without much surprise, as R'Garok takes his hostage, even as he marks the new "cordon" formation of the imperial guard.

"Defenders!" he shouts. "Stand together now, if you want to live!"

As R'Garok nears Grenda and his position at the center of the ring, with Gro-Khash not far away, Nick pounds the butt of his staff with some authority, re-activating the energy blade as he'd seen the executioner do, and adopts a fighting pose.

He gives both Stonemen a comradely nod, and then says to R'Garok, "Sir Gargoyle, I suggest you order that they put down their weapons. Then we should flee down the tunnels from which we Gladiators entered, and try to make our way outside, where we can steal a flying boat like the one they used to take us up here."

[Heritage]

"Defenders!" he shouts. "Stand together now, if you want to live!"

As R'Garok nears Grenda and his position at the center of the ring, with Gro-Khash not far away, Nick pounds the butt of his staff with some authority, re-activating the energy blade as he'd seen the executioner do, and adopts a fighting pose.

He gives both Stonemen a comradely nod, and then says to R'Garok, "Sir Gargoyle, I suggest you order that they put down their weapons. Then we should flee down the tunnels from which we Gladiators entered, and try to make our way outside, where we can steal a flying boat like the one they used to take us up here."

The last of the intoxicating draught's effects evaporate as Princess Grenda watches her carefully ordered world rapidly devolve into chaos; she despised the Emperor and the entire Imperial family, but never imagined taking action this direct before the eyes of the entire court.

*Too soon....far too soon...*

But the die was cast; for better or worse, the lives of those around her were now in her hands, and she must rise to the occasion and adapt as only a Lhan-Garan can. With a tilt of her head, she makes a polite inquiry of her handmaiden Haltha at her side, whose blue eyes have gone wide with shock at the proceedings.

"Do you think we shall have to leave our shoes?"

Without taking her eyes of the Imperial Guard, Haltha slowly nods.

"I believe we must, milady; they weren't designed for running."

The princess looks down ruefully as she lifts up a delicate foot.

"A pity - I so love the little bells."

Grenda meets the Emperor’s gaze and inclines her head just so.

"I'm afraid my party must take its leave of you, your Imperial majesty, but before I go, I must make a simple request. My dear sweet sister will be released from your seraglio at once, into my father's custody; if this is not done by sunset today, I shudder to think what might happen to your daughter if she is left in the company of three such low-bred males. Once I am sure that myself and my family is safe, she will be released; is that perfectly clear?"

After she and Haltha carefully slip off their shoes, Grenda gently lays a hand on the Imperial princess's face.

"And needless to say, any violent moves by anyone in this room will force the Stoneman to remove K'ora's head as a child plucks a flower."

To the human, she nods.

"A fair plan, slave - let us depart."

[Centimane]

Gro-Khash was beginning to wonder about his premonitions. While this was certainly turning out to be a momentous day promising a great deal of mayhem and death, it was also a bit more than he'd bargained for. Well, there was nothing for it now but to fight, which really wasn't such a bad thing now that he thought about it.

Briefly, Gro-Khash felt a surge of anger and a desire for revenge on behalf of his fallen brothers sweep over him as he thought of the prospect of being able to strike out at the Emperor himself or, failing that, his daughter. But then he remembered that a true warrior of flame and ash fights the battle, not the opponent. If he fought for vengeance, if he fought with anything in his heart or mind at all other than the simple truth of battle, then he shamed all his brothers who had fallen before him. So he put his dark thoughts from himself and made his decision.

Gro-Khash never left his defensive position as he edged closer to his new allies, positioning himself so that he could watch their flanks but leaving enough room to maneuver for when things got ugly. As he did so he caught the eye of the human and the Feline princess and gave the slightest nod, thus giving his silent agreement to their fated allience.

Then he turned his terrible red gaze towards his new enemies.

[ProfPotts]

Noting R'Garok's mighty arm still around his daughter's neck as the condemned move defensively together Emperor K'reed quickly raises a hand to stall the advance of his troops...

"I'm afraid my party must take its leave of you, your Imperial majesty, but before I go, I must make a simple request. My dear sweet sister will be released from your seraglio at once, into my father's custody; if this is not done by sunset today, I shudder to think what might happen to your daughter if she is left in the company of three such low-bred males. Once I am sure that myself and my family is safe, she will be released; is that perfectly clear?"

A murmur of shock & surprise runs round the assembled crowd of nobility - was this upstart Feline princess mad?! K'reed's face twists into a sneer as he fights to hold back his fury by gritting his teeth together,

'Stoneman!' he directs the command at R'Garok, 'Release the Imperial Princess & you may yet live!' ::angry

For a brief silent moment the crowds hold their collective breath - all can feel the sheer Tyrian power of the Emperor's direct order, & await R'Garok's inevitable capitulation... But it never comes &, instead, Princess Grenda adds insult to injury...

"And needless to say, any violent moves by anyone in this room will force the Stoneman to remove K'ora's head as a child plucks a flower."

Reluctantly, angry veins fairly popping across his forehead, the Emperor orders his troops to part, leaving the rebels a path to the exit: following the Earthman's advice they soon find themselves racing through the Imperial palace towards the skyship docks!

*****

Back in the great hall The Ophidian remains, unnoticed, to observe the aftermath as K'reed lets rip with a roar of pent-up rage, bellowing to the ceiling, fists clenched, muscles bulging...

::nuclear

Still steaming K'reed strides across the room to the fallen Imperial Executioner, plants a heavy booted foot on the man's stomach, pulls out his lightning gun, & fires a crackling electrical bolt into the poor fool's chest at point blank range! Turning on his heel & striding back into the centre of the hall, smoking carcass still fizzing & popping behind him, the Emperor bellows his orders,

'Find them! Stop them! Bring my daughter back alive & unharmed! A thousand talents for the one who brings me the heads of those rebels! Ten thousand for the one who brings me Princess Grenda alive! Death to those who fail!'

Both Imperial troops & members of the court are scrambling to obey the Emperor even before he's finished issuing his commands, dashing for the exits, drawing weapons, & charging after the rebels...

*****

Outside...

... Rushing out into the harsh sunlight of the skyship docks the rebels find themselves charging headlong at the score of Imperial Guardsmen on duty there! The guard Captain double-takes the scene, then - in near-panic - yells at his troops to, 'ATTACK!!!' - grabing pole-arms & drawing scimitars the cloaked, helmeted, guards race forward to do just that!

[Definitly cue the Football Fight music from Queen's Flash Gordon soundtrack this time... ::sly ]

[ezekiel]

R'Garok, princess tucked in his arm, rushes straight into the middle of the guard, letting rip his trademarked Blood-Curdling Scream

Much to their surprise, the stoneman doesn't just tuck low as anticipated. He actually throws the princess over their heads! ::blink As they look up he slams into the guards, arms extended to both sides! Rushing through the group with a bone-snapping CRUNCH, the Bonecrusher quickly rolls forward to catch the princess as he keeps running towards the nearest skiff.