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Iskaral Pust rode like a madman. Unfortunately, the mule beneath him and decided that a plodding walk would suffice, making the two of them a most incongruous pair. The high priest flung himself back and forth, pitched from side to side. His feet kicked high, toes skyward, then lashed back down. Heels pounded insensate flanks in a thumping drum-roll entirely devoid of rythem. Reins flailed about but the mule had chewed trough the bit and so the reins were attached to nothing but two mangled stumps that seemed determined to batter Pust senseless.
He tossed about as if riding a goaded bull. Spraying sweat, lips pulled back in a savage grimace, the whites visible round his bugged-out eyes.
The mule, why, the mule walked. Clump clump (pause) clump (pause) clump clump. And so on.
Swirling just above Iskaral Pust's head, and acrobatically avoiding the bit-ends, flapped the squall of bhokarala. Like oversized gnats, and how that mule's tail whiped back and forth! She sought to swat them away, but in spirit of gnat-hood the bhokarala did not relent, so eager were they to claim the very next plop of dung wending its way out beneath that tail. Over which they'd fight tooth, talon and claw.
Swarming in mule and rider's wake was a river of spiders, flowing glittering black over the cobbles.
At one point three white hounds tramped across the street not twenty paces distant. A trio of immensely ugly heads swung to regard mule and rider. And to show that it meant business, the mule propped up its ears. Clump clump (pause) clump clump clump.
The hounds moved on.
It does no good to molest a mule.
Alas, as Iskaral Pust and his placid mount were moments from discovering, there were indeed forces in the world that could confound both.
And here then, at last, arrives the shining, blazing, astonishing nexus, the penultimate pinnacle of this profound night, as bold Kruppe nudges his ferocious war-mule into the path of one Iskaral Pust, mule, and sundry spiders and bhokarala.
Mule sees mule. Both halt with a bare fifteen paces between them, ears at bristling attention.
Rider sees rider. Magus grows dangerously still, eyes hooded. Kruppe waves one plump hand in greeting.
Bhokarala launch a mid-air conference that results in one beast landing awkwardly on the cobbles to the left of the High Priest, whilst the others find window sills, projections, and the heads of handsome gargoyles on which to perch, chests heaving and tounges lolling.
The spiders run away.
Thus, the tableau is set.
'Out of my way!' screeched Iskaral Pust. 'Who is this fool and how dare he fool wth me? I'll gnash him! I'll crush him down. I'll feint right and dodge left and we'll be by in a flash! Look at that pathetic mule - he'll never catch us! I got a sword to claim. Mine, yes, mine! And then won't Shadowthrone grovel and simper! Iskaral Pust, High priest of Dragnipur! Most feared swordsman in ten thousand worlds! And if you think you've seen justice at its most fickle, you just wait!' He then leaned foreward and smiled. 'Kind sir, could you kindly move yourself and your yon beast to one side? I must keep an appointment, you understand. Hastily, in fact.' Then he hissed, 'Go climb up your own arse, you redvested ball of lard that someone rolled across a forest floor! Go! Scat!'
'Most confounding indeed,' Kruppe replied with his most beatific smile. 'It seems we are in discord, in tat you seek to proceed in a direction that will inevitably colide with none other then Kruppe, the Eel of Darujhistan. Poor priest, it us late. Does your god know where you are?'
'Eel? Kruppe? Collide? Fat and idiot besides, what a dastardly combination, and on this of all nights! Listen, take another street. If I run into this Crappy Eel I'll be sure to let him know you're looking for him. It's the least I can do.'
'Hardly, but no matter. I am Kruppe the Crappy Eel, alas.'
'So fine, we've run into each other. Glad that's over with. Now let me pass!'
'Kruppe regrets that any and every path you may seek shall be impeded by none other then Kruppe himself. Unless, of course, you conclude that what you seek is not worth the effort, nor the grief certain to follow, and so wisely return to thy shadowy temple.'
'You don't know what I want so it's none of your damned buisness what I want!'
'Misapprehensions abound, but wait, does this slavering fool even understand?'
'What? I wasn't supposed to hear that? But I did! I did, you fat idiot!'
'He only thought he heard. Kind priest, Kruppe assures you, you did not hear but mishear. Kind priest? Why, Kruppe is too generous, too forgiving by far, and hear hear! Or is it here here? No matter, it's not as if this grinning toad will understand. Why, his mule's got a sharper look in its eye then he has. Now, kindly priest, it's late and you should be in bd, yes? Abjectly alone, no doubt. Hmm?'
Iskaral Pust stared. He gaped. His eyes darted, alighting on the bhorkaral squatting on the cobbles beside him as it made staring, gaping, darting expressions. 'My worshippers! Of course! You! Yes, you! Gather your kin and attack the fat fool! Attack! Your god commands you! Attack!'
'Mlawhlaoblossblayowblagnilebbinggoblaiblblafblablallblayarblablabnablahblallblah!'
'What?'
'Bla?'
'Bla?'
'Yarb?'
'Bah! You're stuiped and useless and ugly!'
'Blabluablabablahllalalabala, too!'
Iskaral Pust scowled at it.
The bhokaral scowled at it.
'Rat Poison!' Pust hissed. And then smiled.
The bhokaral offered him a dung sausage. And then smiled.
*
Oh, so much for reasoned negotiation.
Iskaral Pust's warbling battle cry was somewhat strangled as he leaned foreward, perched high in the stirrups, hands reaching like a raptor's talons, and the mule reluctantly stumped foreward.
Kruppe watched this agozizingly slow charge. He sighed. 'Really now. It comes to this? So be it.' And he kicked his war-mule into motion.
The beasts closed, step by step. By step.
Iskaral Pust clawed the air, weaving and pitching, head bobbing. Overhead, the bhokarala screamed and flew in frenzied circles. The High Priest's mule flicked its tail.
Kruppe's war-mule edged to the right. Pust's beast angled to its right. Their hands came alongside, and then thier shoulders. Whereupon they halted.
Snarling and spitting, Iskaral Pust launched himsef at Kruppe, who grunted a sprised oof! Fsts flew, thumbs jabbed, jaws snapped - the High Priest's crazed attack - and the Eel threw up his forearms to fend it off, only to inadvertently punch Pust in the nose with one pudgy hand. Head rocked back, a stunned gasp. Attack renewed.
They grappeled. They toppled, thumping on to the cobbles in a flurry of limbs.
The bhokarala joined in, diving from above with screeches and snarls, swarming the two combatants before beginning to fight with each other. Fists flying, thumbs jabbing, jaws snapping. Spiders swept in from all sides, tiny fangs nipping everything in sight.
The entire mass writhed and seethed.
The two mules walked a short distance away, then turned in unison to watch the proceesings.
Best leave the egregious scene for now.
Honest.
Edit: some small errors
This post has been edited by High Mage Quick Ben: 16 June 2010 - 02:00 AM
