Out With the 'Berkshire Hunt'
Posted: Tue Jun 02, 2009 11:33 am
The Agnesian/Wintergleam Border
The Khan drove the lance home into the pinioned Ohl'tar's opisthosoma, that is to say the posterior portion of the arachnids body. Field researchers had assured the Khan that, based on research into the Ohl'tar's more conventional 'relatives', spiders for instance, that a number of vital organs were contained within the rear tagma, such as the heart and the 'book lungs'. The creature's abdomen appeared to be coated in an ebony coloured bone plates and it took a moment for the Khan's spear to work its way through a weak point in the segments of the exoskeleton of the immature Ohl'tar. As the arachnid nervous system remained largely confined to the head and cephalothorax and quite undeveloped in the abdomen area, the Ohl'tar's screams were not of pain but rather of a knowing distress as the Khan's spear began to cut deep into what passed for the Ohl'tar's heart and through into its mid gut. It was nonetheless a hellish scream, quite unlike anything that the Khan or any other members of the Order of the Dead Stagg had ever heard before. And it was soon joined by the cries of bestial anguish eminating from the spawned Ohl'tar's mother.
"No!! Spare us our child! It is innocent. Ve beg mercy. Ve beg mercy." The Ohl'tars capacity for mimicing human speech still fascinated and repulsed the company in equal measures.
The Khan, in reply, twisted the shaft of his spear sharply inside the Ohl'tar, shredding its innards - causing its death with near instaneous effect. Although it continued to twitch involuntarily for some while after the Khan withdrew the lance, now bloodied in a green-yellow gore that stank horrendously. The Khan spat on the dead creature in a gesture of contempt and disgust. All the while the Mother Ohl'tar chirped shrilly in an absolute rage, all semblance of intelligibility utterly vanished, and as it did so it was struggling futilely against the chains which bound it firmly in a crouching position.
The Khan however gave every outward sign of paying no heed as he passed his bile-stained lance to one of the knight-errants to clean, an unsavoury task. The knight passed it to his squire, who looked around for somebody to pass it too before remembering that, being at the bottom of the hierarchy, it was his place to fetch the rag and water - such indignities would pass with time. Instead he chose to address one of the hunting company.
"You will note Shapur that the Ohl'tar continue to employ their capacity for imitating our common tongue in an attempt to manipulate our emotions. This is something we must be on the guard against."
"Yes, father." Shapur Osmani bowed his head slightly as he replied. It could have been mistaken for a display of filial respect but really it was the mechanism whereby Shapur avoided eye-contact with his father whom he loathed. There was no love lost between father and son but the Khan valued Shapur as he, of all the sons born out of his harem who had not degenerated into outright insanity, alone was the one most likely to be able to successfully carry off an act of patricide, and that marked him out as a worthy heir, albeit one marred by the humanitarian foolishness of the non-Babki whose company he increasingly kept. Not, of course, that the Khan intended to die any time this century.
"They continue to lie" the Khan continued "even when the facts speak against them." The Khan turned to face the last remaining Ohl'tar from the group of five that the 'Berkshire Hunt' had run to ground and dispatched. Pausing, Ardashir stooped to pick up a large canvas bag that was stained crimson by some all too obvious fluid. Stepping closer the Khan tipped the contents of the bag out before the restrained Ohl'tar whose face, even allowing for the revoltingly different physiology, was a picture of hunger. Spread on the floor, in a sickening pool of partially congealed blood, were several lumps of red pinkish flesh, all choice cuts that would have been quite appetising - had they come from a pig, and the severed delicate arm of a child, the arm had been gnawed upon.
"As we tracked your group we passed through a village, a human village, we found that its inhabitants had been killed... butchered. You maintain the pretence of being able to speak so perhaps now you will be so good as to maintain the pretence of being able to listen and to comprehend what I say."
The Ohl'tar simply glared, eyes blazing hunger and hate in equal measure.
"Your race has split into factions, but my stance is this; I promise peace to those Ohl'tar who will live in peace, but to those Ohl'tar who kill or who taste the flesh of man, I can promise only death."
Now the Ohl'tar chirped a discordant flurry of harsh sounds before settling upon a form of Common that was no less harsh upon the ears.
"Ve no choice to take the flesh of you. Our numbers increase. Ve have no control of this. But you trap us in this narro land. This Agnesia. All food gone. Ve eat everything. Ve eat the sheep. Ve eat the sheep vhool. Nothing remains. You are all that ve have left to eat."
"Yes, I am quite aware of the genetic abnormality that has driven your kind to become, even by your own standards, monsters. It will however not avail you. You breed like rats, no - even rats have fucking gestation periods.
You see, I´d like to share a revelation that I´ve had, during my time here in Agnesia. It came to me when I tried to classify your species and I realized that you aren´t actually arachnids. Every spider, every scorpion on this planet instinctively develops a natural equilibrium with its surrounding environment, but you Ohl'tar do not. You move to an area and you multiply, and multiply until every natural resource is consumed and the only way you can survive is to spread to another area. There is another organism on this planet that follows the same pattern. Do you know what iA virus. The Ohl'tar are a disease, a cancer of Micras. You are a plague, and we, myself and the Elwynnbrigaden, are the cure." (OOC: I know, I know... I'm sorry, but it had to be done. OK?)
Now the Ohl'tar made a sound that sounded disconcertingly like the cackling of a demented old crone. "You are deluded, Khan of the Ardashirians. This world vill fall to the Ohl'tar. Your bones vill become the playthings of the children of Maigrenox. Victory vill be ours!" More insane chirping and clicking followed. (OOC: If it helps imagine the click consonants used by the Xhosa in their native language, only that the Xhosa in question is off his head on speed)
"A fascinating insight." The Khan noted. "And one that I thank you for. However I feel the time has come for this interview to be concluded. Shapur, strike off the head of this creature." Ardashir made this extraordinary request in the most neutral and casual tone available to him
The colour drained from Shapur's face as the realisation of the nature of this request dawned upon him.
"But I err... well... I... couldn't... I..."
The Khan's face turned puce in exasperation at his son's seeming lack of any homicidal inclinations.
"Ahriman's cock! Don't just stand there boy. Strike! Strike now!"
Shapur still looked uncertain.
"Strike!" The Khan cried out. "Would you hesitate if it was my neck stretched out before your knife?" There was an embarrassed silence from the Khan's aides and the nine other Knights of the Dead Stagg but the barb seemed to have its effect on Shapur.
"My Son! I join you in Ohl'taria!" were the last discernible words from the unfortunate Ohl'tar before the vocal noises emanating from it lapsed into a somewhat revolting gurgling sound as Shapur's blade cut across the creature's un-armoured neck and began sawing down into whatever passed for an arachnid windpipe.
The deed done, Shapur threw his knife aside in revulsion and fell to the ground retching up copious amounts of vomit, of a colour that was almost the same as the alien blood that had moments previously been splashed across his hunting armour. The Khan however smiled. As far as he was concerned it was the first step towards making a man out of his son.
***
Not long afterwards the Kopfjäger, who had been holding an outer perimeter enabling the Order of the Dead Stagg to carry out its hunt unmolested, reported that the rebel Ohl'tar appeared to be mustering for a counter attack. The Khan then took the decision to order the withdrawal. With the Order of the Dead Stagg retiring to Echo City whilst he summoned a helicopter to return him to Shirekeep and the MoMA Main Building. It was when that helicopter arrived that he learned of the Duke's decree and once more sighed wearily as was becoming his stock reaction to most contemporary news and events. As the Huey headed south following the line of the East Elwynn River the Khan began to wonder if squeamish Shapur might not serve as a passable Steward of Eliria, whose very weaknesses could become a strength when dealing with those too inclined to consider the rights of others before the necessity of decisive action.
The Khan drove the lance home into the pinioned Ohl'tar's opisthosoma, that is to say the posterior portion of the arachnids body. Field researchers had assured the Khan that, based on research into the Ohl'tar's more conventional 'relatives', spiders for instance, that a number of vital organs were contained within the rear tagma, such as the heart and the 'book lungs'. The creature's abdomen appeared to be coated in an ebony coloured bone plates and it took a moment for the Khan's spear to work its way through a weak point in the segments of the exoskeleton of the immature Ohl'tar. As the arachnid nervous system remained largely confined to the head and cephalothorax and quite undeveloped in the abdomen area, the Ohl'tar's screams were not of pain but rather of a knowing distress as the Khan's spear began to cut deep into what passed for the Ohl'tar's heart and through into its mid gut. It was nonetheless a hellish scream, quite unlike anything that the Khan or any other members of the Order of the Dead Stagg had ever heard before. And it was soon joined by the cries of bestial anguish eminating from the spawned Ohl'tar's mother.
"No!! Spare us our child! It is innocent. Ve beg mercy. Ve beg mercy." The Ohl'tars capacity for mimicing human speech still fascinated and repulsed the company in equal measures.
The Khan, in reply, twisted the shaft of his spear sharply inside the Ohl'tar, shredding its innards - causing its death with near instaneous effect. Although it continued to twitch involuntarily for some while after the Khan withdrew the lance, now bloodied in a green-yellow gore that stank horrendously. The Khan spat on the dead creature in a gesture of contempt and disgust. All the while the Mother Ohl'tar chirped shrilly in an absolute rage, all semblance of intelligibility utterly vanished, and as it did so it was struggling futilely against the chains which bound it firmly in a crouching position.
The Khan however gave every outward sign of paying no heed as he passed his bile-stained lance to one of the knight-errants to clean, an unsavoury task. The knight passed it to his squire, who looked around for somebody to pass it too before remembering that, being at the bottom of the hierarchy, it was his place to fetch the rag and water - such indignities would pass with time. Instead he chose to address one of the hunting company.
"You will note Shapur that the Ohl'tar continue to employ their capacity for imitating our common tongue in an attempt to manipulate our emotions. This is something we must be on the guard against."
"Yes, father." Shapur Osmani bowed his head slightly as he replied. It could have been mistaken for a display of filial respect but really it was the mechanism whereby Shapur avoided eye-contact with his father whom he loathed. There was no love lost between father and son but the Khan valued Shapur as he, of all the sons born out of his harem who had not degenerated into outright insanity, alone was the one most likely to be able to successfully carry off an act of patricide, and that marked him out as a worthy heir, albeit one marred by the humanitarian foolishness of the non-Babki whose company he increasingly kept. Not, of course, that the Khan intended to die any time this century.
"They continue to lie" the Khan continued "even when the facts speak against them." The Khan turned to face the last remaining Ohl'tar from the group of five that the 'Berkshire Hunt' had run to ground and dispatched. Pausing, Ardashir stooped to pick up a large canvas bag that was stained crimson by some all too obvious fluid. Stepping closer the Khan tipped the contents of the bag out before the restrained Ohl'tar whose face, even allowing for the revoltingly different physiology, was a picture of hunger. Spread on the floor, in a sickening pool of partially congealed blood, were several lumps of red pinkish flesh, all choice cuts that would have been quite appetising - had they come from a pig, and the severed delicate arm of a child, the arm had been gnawed upon.
"As we tracked your group we passed through a village, a human village, we found that its inhabitants had been killed... butchered. You maintain the pretence of being able to speak so perhaps now you will be so good as to maintain the pretence of being able to listen and to comprehend what I say."
The Ohl'tar simply glared, eyes blazing hunger and hate in equal measure.
"Your race has split into factions, but my stance is this; I promise peace to those Ohl'tar who will live in peace, but to those Ohl'tar who kill or who taste the flesh of man, I can promise only death."
Now the Ohl'tar chirped a discordant flurry of harsh sounds before settling upon a form of Common that was no less harsh upon the ears.
"Ve no choice to take the flesh of you. Our numbers increase. Ve have no control of this. But you trap us in this narro land. This Agnesia. All food gone. Ve eat everything. Ve eat the sheep. Ve eat the sheep vhool. Nothing remains. You are all that ve have left to eat."
"Yes, I am quite aware of the genetic abnormality that has driven your kind to become, even by your own standards, monsters. It will however not avail you. You breed like rats, no - even rats have fucking gestation periods.
You see, I´d like to share a revelation that I´ve had, during my time here in Agnesia. It came to me when I tried to classify your species and I realized that you aren´t actually arachnids. Every spider, every scorpion on this planet instinctively develops a natural equilibrium with its surrounding environment, but you Ohl'tar do not. You move to an area and you multiply, and multiply until every natural resource is consumed and the only way you can survive is to spread to another area. There is another organism on this planet that follows the same pattern. Do you know what iA virus. The Ohl'tar are a disease, a cancer of Micras. You are a plague, and we, myself and the Elwynnbrigaden, are the cure." (OOC: I know, I know... I'm sorry, but it had to be done. OK?)
Now the Ohl'tar made a sound that sounded disconcertingly like the cackling of a demented old crone. "You are deluded, Khan of the Ardashirians. This world vill fall to the Ohl'tar. Your bones vill become the playthings of the children of Maigrenox. Victory vill be ours!" More insane chirping and clicking followed. (OOC: If it helps imagine the click consonants used by the Xhosa in their native language, only that the Xhosa in question is off his head on speed)
"A fascinating insight." The Khan noted. "And one that I thank you for. However I feel the time has come for this interview to be concluded. Shapur, strike off the head of this creature." Ardashir made this extraordinary request in the most neutral and casual tone available to him
The colour drained from Shapur's face as the realisation of the nature of this request dawned upon him.
"But I err... well... I... couldn't... I..."
The Khan's face turned puce in exasperation at his son's seeming lack of any homicidal inclinations.
"Ahriman's cock! Don't just stand there boy. Strike! Strike now!"
Shapur still looked uncertain.
"Strike!" The Khan cried out. "Would you hesitate if it was my neck stretched out before your knife?" There was an embarrassed silence from the Khan's aides and the nine other Knights of the Dead Stagg but the barb seemed to have its effect on Shapur.
"My Son! I join you in Ohl'taria!" were the last discernible words from the unfortunate Ohl'tar before the vocal noises emanating from it lapsed into a somewhat revolting gurgling sound as Shapur's blade cut across the creature's un-armoured neck and began sawing down into whatever passed for an arachnid windpipe.
The deed done, Shapur threw his knife aside in revulsion and fell to the ground retching up copious amounts of vomit, of a colour that was almost the same as the alien blood that had moments previously been splashed across his hunting armour. The Khan however smiled. As far as he was concerned it was the first step towards making a man out of his son.
***
Not long afterwards the Kopfjäger, who had been holding an outer perimeter enabling the Order of the Dead Stagg to carry out its hunt unmolested, reported that the rebel Ohl'tar appeared to be mustering for a counter attack. The Khan then took the decision to order the withdrawal. With the Order of the Dead Stagg retiring to Echo City whilst he summoned a helicopter to return him to Shirekeep and the MoMA Main Building. It was when that helicopter arrived that he learned of the Duke's decree and once more sighed wearily as was becoming his stock reaction to most contemporary news and events. As the Huey headed south following the line of the East Elwynn River the Khan began to wonder if squeamish Shapur might not serve as a passable Steward of Eliria, whose very weaknesses could become a strength when dealing with those too inclined to consider the rights of others before the necessity of decisive action.