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Chiron
Imperial Beast-Master Quest 2017-08-25 03:48:59 Post No. 1806153
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Imperial Beast-Master Quest 2017-08-25 03:48:59 Post No. 1806153
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The Imperial Rookery howls with life, perched atop the Great Palace. The great arrays of perches and stables chitter with life, and with violent energy, as the servants within run from place to place, desperately trying to keep the mass of feather and flesh in line. The sounds of screaming Griffons, bellowing Hippogriffs, and all other such bird-beasts fill the city streets, washing through the markets in a way not heard in years. Even the vendors of the great bazaar pause their exhortations once in a while to hear the sound of a particularly fierce mount, perhaps a War-Mount of one of the Strategoi, brought from the mountain eyries, but life continues, in the shadow of the Imperial complex, until late into the evening.
The city is hot, the great dark expanse of the Siaxine sea to the north bringing, for only these few weeks of the year, great scorching siroccos, rather than the wrathful, freezing north winds regular to the region. The southern sea always boils with heat, but, untempered by the north wind, the city scorches, especially in the evenings, humid as they are. Sweat clings to skin, and foreign traders find themselves burnt and red. In this heat, much of the night-life common to the city is impractical. Whorehouses are closed up, the amphitheatres are deserted, and even the Hippodrome is almost silent. Insects chirp in the city gardens, and the scent of hot refuse fills the air east of the perfumer's quarter.
Within the palace, the heat is only more intense, especially in the sequestered quarters of the Emperor himself, deep in the Imperial Harem. The air hangs with sickly incense, with violent perfumes, even with the seething scents of exertion and sweat, but nothing can cloak the pervasive scent of death. The great lion-emperor, Konstantinos Nemeos, lies dying, his great warrior's frame still firm with rippling musculature, draped over a fine velvet couch. His silver white hair falls like a sea over the tan expanse of his skin, and his oxen's breath steams in the air. All around him, servants stand silent, while a few physicians, clad in foreign robes, toil over his Imperial frame. A few moments more, and, with a sweep of his great, powerful arm, the Emperor dismisses them from his presence, his voice, even in death, like a hammer blow.
He will not last much longer, and high above him, his former Mount weeps for him, while you watch in vain.
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>>1806153
Go on...
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>>1806508
>good writing
>strong, interesting start
>op is kill
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>>1806153
GET THAT DICK OUT OF YOUR EAR AND GET BACK HERE.
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I was unfortunately distracted, my Gecko's Vivarium collapsed and I spent a lot of my afternoon dismantling the remains and then got roped into doing a full clean of the house.
I'll do the remainder of a post now and then return tomorrow.
Within the great stable chamber before you, high in the Rook's Tower, the highest point in the city, is a beast the likes of which are unknown within the Empire. The emperor's personal mount, the Griffon to whom your family has for years owed its livelihood, Heraklion, a Griffon the size of a cart, able to snap a man in two with a lunge, and to flay an ox with a few flicks of the talon. You know more than anyone but the Emperor the sheer brute strength of the beast. You have felt its immense bulk slam into a stable door, seen it preen its great, silk-like feathers with a bloodied beak, and felt the primal terror of its shriek.
Some warriors go mad with the sound of shrieking eagles, hearing it in their minds as they sleep, and never truly resting again. You imagine you know what that feels like. Heraklion's shrieking can be heard for miles as a faint, foreboding echo, but so close to the beast, the sound is more like the ringing of a thousand bells, or the sound of a whip on your ear. Talons on stone are nothing to the shrieking of the beast, and as you frantically seal the latches of the great stable-door, you know why so many rook-keepers attempt to take a blade to their charges.
You would never do such a thing, however, you love the beast as if it were your brother, despite its howls. Its pain is yours, and you have lived all of your life in its imposing shadow. Your father was squire to the Emperor, and you are entrusted with the care of Heraklion, now he lies dead. You feel the beast slam into the door, and you wince, hushing the chittering, howling creature, to no avail. Heraklion only grows more enraged at his confinement, and you hear the great expanse of his wings flap, cracking painfully against the walls.
You must calm him down before he does himself an injury. Normally you would set him loose, but to do so now, with the Emperor dying, would invite tragedy. He would go to his master, and he would be careless with his talons. A few animal carcasses hang in the chamber below you, along with your Falconer's Harness, and you prepare yourself to calm the creature.
>What do you try first?
>Toss the beast a cow. (In short supply, but hell, it is an emergency)
>Lead a blind sow into the stable. (You are supposed to feed the beast only with these blinded pigs)
>Put on your Harness and enter the stable yourself to calm the beast.
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>>1807283
>Lead a blind sow into the stable
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>>1807283
>lead the blind sow into the stable
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>>1807283
>Lead a blind sow into the stable
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>>1807283
>>Lead a blind sow into the stable. (You are supposed to feed the beast only with these blinded pigs)
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>>1807283
>Toss the beast a cow. (In short supply, but hell, it is an emergency)
then
>Put on your Harness and enter the stable yourself to calm the beast.
Show the beast that you grieve as well. They are prideful, and wrathful, but also also intelligent and loyal.
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