From: leducblanc@aol.com (LeDucBlanc)
Date: 17 Jul 1998 03:25:18 EDT
Percival Marchand de Clermont was NOT having a good week. He had fought twice Wednesday night and had lost both times. It was only by the lucky fact that the standings had already been published the night he fought that he had not falled back to swordsman. He had lost again tonight, this time in a very angry mood against an opponent he had badly wanted to beat. He had drunk too much Wednesday night, and he was drinking too much again
now. He knew that crawling inside a whiskey bottle wasn't the way to deal with his problems, but at the same time he felt that there was nothing he could do.
His life was not the best it could be. Far beyond his standing, or lack of it, in the ring, the important things were going wrong too. He found himself unable to effectively communicate his feelings to the lovely Sarana, who he was growing more and more fond of every time he spoke with her. He was till hiding from enemies from his own corner of the multiverse, men who had now allegedly hired an assassin as deadly as he was supposed to be
himself. He had run from a confrontation, something he had never done before. His fear outside the rings was invading his life inside them. So he continued to drink.
He sat, in the deserted arena, at the bar, swigging from the bottle of the Special Label. He had discarded his usual beer chasers and was not even drinking the Glenlivet he enjoyed so much. He just wanted to get drunk, the drunker the better, to hide from the fear, the pain, and the feelings his heart was slowly regaining. Feelings he had thought had died within him long ago, at the death of his seventh and last wife.
He wasn't just afraid of an assassin. He was afraid of his heart.
The White Duke
The Drunken Duke
-
DoS Archive
- Archivist
- Posts: 30701
- Joined: Mon Feb 16, 2004 8:27 am
-
DoS Archive
- Archivist
- Posts: 30701
- Joined: Mon Feb 16, 2004 8:27 am
From: leducblanc@aol.com (LeDucBlanc)
Date: 17 Jul 1998 14:55:49 EDT
((Folks, anyone who considers themself a friend of Whitey is encouraged to take part in this story line, after all, he needs all the help he can get.))
It was mid afternoon, he been getting some practice duels under his belt. He actually won one of them, which helped a little. Still, his overall situation was not looking up. He knew this depression was an enemy as dangerous as any assassin or rival, but that didn't make it any easier to fight. Where was his courage? Where was his strength? His real power had always been in his will, and his will was weakening.
He felt a strong need for battle. To hurt someone. To take his frustrations out on an opponent. But anger, as he had discovered in his duel with Norritt, was not the proper fuel for the fire. He was still angry with himself for losing that one. Very angry indeed. But it was in the past. Nothing could be done about it now. Perhaps he would face Norritt in the future, perhaps not. One never knew.
He thought about trying to find Sara. To talk to her. To tell her how he felt. But the last time he had tried he had failed badly. She had thought he was feeding her a line. He would keep trying, but he really didn't know what to say. He was haunted by his ghosts. Why wouldn't they leave him alone? Why wouldn't anyone leave him alone?
The White Duke
Date: 17 Jul 1998 14:55:49 EDT
((Folks, anyone who considers themself a friend of Whitey is encouraged to take part in this story line, after all, he needs all the help he can get.))
It was mid afternoon, he been getting some practice duels under his belt. He actually won one of them, which helped a little. Still, his overall situation was not looking up. He knew this depression was an enemy as dangerous as any assassin or rival, but that didn't make it any easier to fight. Where was his courage? Where was his strength? His real power had always been in his will, and his will was weakening.
He felt a strong need for battle. To hurt someone. To take his frustrations out on an opponent. But anger, as he had discovered in his duel with Norritt, was not the proper fuel for the fire. He was still angry with himself for losing that one. Very angry indeed. But it was in the past. Nothing could be done about it now. Perhaps he would face Norritt in the future, perhaps not. One never knew.
He thought about trying to find Sara. To talk to her. To tell her how he felt. But the last time he had tried he had failed badly. She had thought he was feeding her a line. He would keep trying, but he really didn't know what to say. He was haunted by his ghosts. Why wouldn't they leave him alone? Why wouldn't anyone leave him alone?
The White Duke
-
DoS Archive
- Archivist
- Posts: 30701
- Joined: Mon Feb 16, 2004 8:27 am
From: leducblanc@aol.com (LeDucBlanc)
Date: 18 Jul 1998 03:37:32 EDT
Percival was no longer sure how he felt. He had won two of three duels, but had been forced to forfeit the third. He was glad he was able to win again, but it was an inconsequential change in a generally bad situation. As he took another drink from the bottle, wandering through the rougher quarter of the town, he thought about his situation.
Unfortunately, the four men who leapt out of the alleyway to his right were thinking about the business at hand. All four were armed with short swords, and were on him at once.
Though slowed by his drunken state, his reflexes were still incredible. He threw the bottle at one attacker, sweeping his blade from its sheath as the missile struck home. He ran the stunned man through, then quickly parried a short thrust by another attacker. Hard pressed, he was forced to parry more blows, as the three remaining thugs were obviously not in a mood to show mercy.
He was able to find an opening, however. Maneuvering tot he left he managed to make two of his attackers collide. Acting quickly he brained one with a quick high cut, removed the second man's leg at the knee, and ducked under the third man's blade and slashed through his attacker's parry. He decided not to finish the man whose leg he had removed, feeling merciful. But the man looked hard at him.
"Edge hired us," the thug told him spitefully, "He didn't expect us to win, said any survivors would earn their pay. But he wanted us to tell you something. He is coming for you."
Edge!!!
The White Duke
Date: 18 Jul 1998 03:37:32 EDT
Percival was no longer sure how he felt. He had won two of three duels, but had been forced to forfeit the third. He was glad he was able to win again, but it was an inconsequential change in a generally bad situation. As he took another drink from the bottle, wandering through the rougher quarter of the town, he thought about his situation.
Unfortunately, the four men who leapt out of the alleyway to his right were thinking about the business at hand. All four were armed with short swords, and were on him at once.
Though slowed by his drunken state, his reflexes were still incredible. He threw the bottle at one attacker, sweeping his blade from its sheath as the missile struck home. He ran the stunned man through, then quickly parried a short thrust by another attacker. Hard pressed, he was forced to parry more blows, as the three remaining thugs were obviously not in a mood to show mercy.
He was able to find an opening, however. Maneuvering tot he left he managed to make two of his attackers collide. Acting quickly he brained one with a quick high cut, removed the second man's leg at the knee, and ducked under the third man's blade and slashed through his attacker's parry. He decided not to finish the man whose leg he had removed, feeling merciful. But the man looked hard at him.
"Edge hired us," the thug told him spitefully, "He didn't expect us to win, said any survivors would earn their pay. But he wanted us to tell you something. He is coming for you."
Edge!!!
The White Duke
-
DoS Archive
- Archivist
- Posts: 30701
- Joined: Mon Feb 16, 2004 8:27 am
From: leducblanc@aol.com (LeDucBlanc)
Date: 23 Jul 1998 16:47:38 EDT
Percy wasn't drinking quite as much for the moment. His last meeting with Sara had gone very well indeed, and it was quite possible that there was something there for both of them and not just for him. It might take awhile to discover just what was really there, but he had the feeling it might be worth the wait. He was still nervous, but that was only to be expected under the circumstances.
His record had improved as well. He had managed to struggle through his problems, winning three in a row Sunday evening. Not only had he retained his rank, he had also actually gained an extra win over losses.
There was still the matter of the assassin. The alley way swordfight had been short, ugly, and unpleasant. It was time to take an active part in this. He would have to find the assassin before the assassin tried another ploy like that. Or worse. Before the assassin found him.
The White Duke
Date: 23 Jul 1998 16:47:38 EDT
Percy wasn't drinking quite as much for the moment. His last meeting with Sara had gone very well indeed, and it was quite possible that there was something there for both of them and not just for him. It might take awhile to discover just what was really there, but he had the feeling it might be worth the wait. He was still nervous, but that was only to be expected under the circumstances.
His record had improved as well. He had managed to struggle through his problems, winning three in a row Sunday evening. Not only had he retained his rank, he had also actually gained an extra win over losses.
There was still the matter of the assassin. The alley way swordfight had been short, ugly, and unpleasant. It was time to take an active part in this. He would have to find the assassin before the assassin tried another ploy like that. Or worse. Before the assassin found him.
The White Duke
-
DoS Archive
- Archivist
- Posts: 30701
- Joined: Mon Feb 16, 2004 8:27 am
rom: leducblanc@aol.com (LeDucBlanc)
Date: 05 Aug 1998 17:55:11 EDT
((Author's note: Yes, I know, this storyline is being posted very haphazardly. There are two reasons for this. 1.) Certain role playing conditions had to be met before certain posts could be made. The following is a prime example. Can't very well write that Whitey and Sara spent the night together before they actually did. 2.) I have had a major block recently, and less computer access than I might want.))
Percival Marchand, Duc de Clermont awoke from a very strange sequence of dreams. He had dreamt that he was back in France, and that he had been married to Sarana. Very strange. It must have been the after effects of Anon's jesting suggestion that he and Sara get married. It was ridiculous. They hadn't known each other long enough yet. Besides, he knew better than to drink the water in RhyDin.
The dream had continued strangely, he saw himself fighting with Lorca, and being killed. Not by Lorca though. By a dark, shadowy figure hiding behind a tree. Edge, most likely. An assassin, certainly. From the scene of his death, things jumped to another scene, Sara weeping over his corpse. Or was he weeping over hers? Or was someone else weeping over both of them? It seemed to be flickering, changing. Now it seemed as if he was laughing and
kissing Sara, standing over the bodies of both Lorca and Edge.
He looked down at Sara where she lay next to him, still sleeping contentedly. He checked the water clock on the far wall. Almost 4 in the morning. Time to go hunting. He left the bed very carefully, not wanting to wake Sara. He got dressed, buckled on Rhindon, and slipped out into the night.
to be continued
Date: 05 Aug 1998 17:55:11 EDT
((Author's note: Yes, I know, this storyline is being posted very haphazardly. There are two reasons for this. 1.) Certain role playing conditions had to be met before certain posts could be made. The following is a prime example. Can't very well write that Whitey and Sara spent the night together before they actually did. 2.) I have had a major block recently, and less computer access than I might want.))
Percival Marchand, Duc de Clermont awoke from a very strange sequence of dreams. He had dreamt that he was back in France, and that he had been married to Sarana. Very strange. It must have been the after effects of Anon's jesting suggestion that he and Sara get married. It was ridiculous. They hadn't known each other long enough yet. Besides, he knew better than to drink the water in RhyDin.
The dream had continued strangely, he saw himself fighting with Lorca, and being killed. Not by Lorca though. By a dark, shadowy figure hiding behind a tree. Edge, most likely. An assassin, certainly. From the scene of his death, things jumped to another scene, Sara weeping over his corpse. Or was he weeping over hers? Or was someone else weeping over both of them? It seemed to be flickering, changing. Now it seemed as if he was laughing and
kissing Sara, standing over the bodies of both Lorca and Edge.
He looked down at Sara where she lay next to him, still sleeping contentedly. He checked the water clock on the far wall. Almost 4 in the morning. Time to go hunting. He left the bed very carefully, not wanting to wake Sara. He got dressed, buckled on Rhindon, and slipped out into the night.
to be continued
-
DoS Archive
- Archivist
- Posts: 30701
- Joined: Mon Feb 16, 2004 8:27 am
From: leducblanc@aol.com (LeDucBlanc)
Date: 06 Aug 1998 13:33:08 EDT
Percy carefully scanned the alley as he approached the rear entrance of the Black Dog Tavern, a rundown little joint on an edge of town sane people rarely visited. The only reason the White Duke was coming here was because he had a contact here. A contact as disreputable as the Black Dog, to be sure, but a contact none the less. A man whom, whether he liked his company or not, he trusted to be truthful when paid well.
He opened the rear entrance carefully and slipped inside, making his way to a table not to far from the door. He took a seat across of from a fat, slovenly drunkard with only one ear and half a nose.
"Hello Pike," Percy greeted the man, "I hear you are the man to talk to about a fellow named Josiah Hedges."
"Who?" the man called "Pike" asked.
"Josiah Hedges is his real name. He is a hired killer and bounty hunter. Goes by 'Edge' most of the time, occasionally 'Cutter'."
"Oh, the ugly bastard with the scar?"
"That's the man, Pike. Tell me, what do you know?"
"Well, Whitey, that information will cost you," Pike drawled.
"My friends call me Whitey. You can call me 'Your Grace', Pike. I don't think I like you well enough yet. However, you will be well paid. Probably more than the information is worth, I am sure," the Duke growled, "However, I have a full purse here. If I like what I here, it is yours. If the information actually is of value to me later, you will get another."
"That sounds fair, Your Grace."
"Good, now talk," Percy commanded.
"This fellow, Edge, he arrived in town about the same time you did. Followed you now and then, or had others do it. Asking around about you. Curious like, but not threatening. Not at first. But that changed."
"How so?"
"Well, Your Grace, a few weeks ago he was in here himself. Hired the Baxter brothers to kill you. Knew they probably would get themselves killed, but wanted to see your mettle. To make you feel threatened. He told them that he liked his targets jumpy."
"I certainly have been that lately. Go on."
"Yesterday, Your Grace, he was here again. Talking to a man named Blinker. A fair archer, who likes to hunt profitable prey, you know what I mean? Anyway, Blinker told him that it wasn't worth it, that he knew what had happened to the Baxters. Blinker turned up dead last night. I don't think, Your Grace, that Mr. Edge likes being said 'no' to."
"Where is Edge staying?"
"I don't know, Your Grace, but I can find out. That will cost extra."
Percy through the heavy purse onto the table. "That is for the information you have given me, and your efforts to find where Edge is staying. You will get twice that much when you have something I can use."
With that he stood, carefully checked the room, and left.
To be continued.....
Date: 06 Aug 1998 13:33:08 EDT
Percy carefully scanned the alley as he approached the rear entrance of the Black Dog Tavern, a rundown little joint on an edge of town sane people rarely visited. The only reason the White Duke was coming here was because he had a contact here. A contact as disreputable as the Black Dog, to be sure, but a contact none the less. A man whom, whether he liked his company or not, he trusted to be truthful when paid well.
He opened the rear entrance carefully and slipped inside, making his way to a table not to far from the door. He took a seat across of from a fat, slovenly drunkard with only one ear and half a nose.
"Hello Pike," Percy greeted the man, "I hear you are the man to talk to about a fellow named Josiah Hedges."
"Who?" the man called "Pike" asked.
"Josiah Hedges is his real name. He is a hired killer and bounty hunter. Goes by 'Edge' most of the time, occasionally 'Cutter'."
"Oh, the ugly bastard with the scar?"
"That's the man, Pike. Tell me, what do you know?"
"Well, Whitey, that information will cost you," Pike drawled.
"My friends call me Whitey. You can call me 'Your Grace', Pike. I don't think I like you well enough yet. However, you will be well paid. Probably more than the information is worth, I am sure," the Duke growled, "However, I have a full purse here. If I like what I here, it is yours. If the information actually is of value to me later, you will get another."
"That sounds fair, Your Grace."
"Good, now talk," Percy commanded.
"This fellow, Edge, he arrived in town about the same time you did. Followed you now and then, or had others do it. Asking around about you. Curious like, but not threatening. Not at first. But that changed."
"How so?"
"Well, Your Grace, a few weeks ago he was in here himself. Hired the Baxter brothers to kill you. Knew they probably would get themselves killed, but wanted to see your mettle. To make you feel threatened. He told them that he liked his targets jumpy."
"I certainly have been that lately. Go on."
"Yesterday, Your Grace, he was here again. Talking to a man named Blinker. A fair archer, who likes to hunt profitable prey, you know what I mean? Anyway, Blinker told him that it wasn't worth it, that he knew what had happened to the Baxters. Blinker turned up dead last night. I don't think, Your Grace, that Mr. Edge likes being said 'no' to."
"Where is Edge staying?"
"I don't know, Your Grace, but I can find out. That will cost extra."
Percy through the heavy purse onto the table. "That is for the information you have given me, and your efforts to find where Edge is staying. You will get twice that much when you have something I can use."
With that he stood, carefully checked the room, and left.
To be continued.....