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From: simon leo barber <simon@brithund.demon.co.uk>Newsgroups: alt.sex.cthulhuSubject: Shoggoths and Swashbucklers (Andrew Nellis, repost)Date: Wed, 05 Jun 1996 19:17:50 GMTFrom: bs904@FreeNet.Carleton.CA (Andrew Nellis)Subject: STORY: Shoggoths and SwashbucklersDate: Mon, 17 Jul 1995 10:00:27 GMTWARNING: Rated PG (Parental Guidance suggested)After reading the recent multi-part sotry by Darcthyus in thisnewsgroup, I found myself annoyed that the protagonist of hsi story shouldbe able to operate without challenge from a single brave, noble, etc, etc,hero daring to stand up to him.I must admit that I am something of a romantic, and while I'm suremost of you tend to side with Wil Whately and will be most annoyed at mefor tossing a wrench into the works of your twisted imagination, I thinksomeone has to stand up for the good guys and be counted.For those unfamilar with 17th century France, it was a time of greatpolitical upheaval, and of course great swashbuckling and daring-do. Mostpeople are not aware that while the specific events in The ThreeMusketeers by Alexandre Dumas are fictionalized, the people and politicshe wrote about were very real indeed.If you enjoy this story please let me know. If you don't enjoy thisstory, well, I guess you can still let me know, but I won't we anywherenear as happy and i can't promise you a card at Christmas.I give you a warning that it does take a while for the story to enterthe "sex/cthulhu" genre, but I believe it is well worth the wait. If it'snot quite as hard-core as you'd like, sorry but you're stuck with it untilsomeone gets around to creating alt.romance.cthulhu.swashbuckling ;-).Special thanks to Dracthyus for the inspiration, even if it was bynegative example. 8-)One final warning that there is at least one graphic sexual scene,and several graphic violence scenes described. If you are likely to beoffended by this, please do not read any further.Now, tie on your tabard, strap on your sword belt, and get thepopcorn ready, because it's all for one, and one for all! On with the show!------------------------Had there be anyone there to see him, they would have been quite surprisedat the lithe and utterly silent grace with which the large man crept
 
through the darkened coridors. Walking on the balls of his feet, headvanced with one hand extended, for he dared not carry light and the dimstarlight ghosting through the very ocassional narrow-slitted window wasnot enough to see well. His other hand rested lightly on the gasket andpommel of the sword that hung at his side, for he was neither an expectednor a welcome guest.At an intersection in the hallway, he froze, his head slightly cocked toone side like a hare scenting danger. Voices. At least two of them, heguessed, and not far away, though it was hard to tell here for the long,winding hallways played strangely with sounds. Suddenly, light bloomeddown one of the side passages, and he realized that in a moment, whoevercarried the light was going to turn the corner and see him standing in theintersection.With a speed that belied his bulk and would have left an observer gaspingwith amazement, he darted back two steps down the passage he had come, andsqueezed himself into the shadows of an alcove containing one of theinterminable statues of the Virgin. He pressed himself behind the statueas best he could, whispering a brief "Pardon, madame," into its cold,alabaster ear.Down the corridor, two of the Cardinal's Guard in their yellow-on-redtabards hove into view, one carrying a hissing flambeaux, and both withfunctional-looking rapiers at their side. As they passed his hiding place,he held his breath, willing them not to turn and see him. Pressed in placeas he was, he would be defenceless to their swords if he was discovered.Like any good Gascon he did not fear death, but he would not pass from theworld in so ignoble a way if he could avoid it."It is a bad business, Armand," said the man with the torch."Oui, it is that. I like not the smells from the cellar," said Armarndnervously."What does he do down there, do you suppose?"Armand crossed himself as the two passed him hiding place, muttering "I amsure that I do not wish to know."After they had passed from sight, he allowed himself to exhale his heldbreath explosively. He pondered their words, and wondered what bearingthey had, if any, on his mission. He made himself wait for five minutes incase they came back, and as he waited, his mind wandered back to themeeting the week before.He had been resting in his bunk with a pot of cheap red wine, dozinglightly but not really asleep, when Arnaud had poked him in the abdomenwith the toe of his boot, saying loudly, "Leves-toi, Isaac, you lazy sloth!De Troisvilles has sent for you, though the Lord alone knows why. Maybe herequires someone to slop the stables, eh?"Opening one eye, he peered at his friend, Arnaud de Sillegue d'Athos. Theman was stroking his great waxed moustaches, as usual, for they were hispride and joy. "Thigh ticklers" he often called them with a twinkle in hiseye, and Isaac was forced to admit that d'Athos certainly got his share ofthe women, and a sizable portion of everyone else's. Perhaps there wassomething to the moustache after all.
 
"Up, up!" continued Arnaud, waving a hand theatrically. Isaac recognizedthe impish smile that crinkled his friend's face and sighed inwardly. Hewas to be the butt of his jibes again. Or perhaps not, he thought, thefaintest of smiles adding a subtle upward twist to the edges of his lips.If Arnaud saw the smile he gave no sign, but continued in his loud,hyperactive ministrations. "Up with you, brute! Here you are slugabed,while there is work to be done," he went on, and made to jab Isaac in hisbroad gut once again with the toe of his boot."Yaaaah!" shrieked Arnaud suddenly, in mid-sentence. With a swiftness nonewould have believed possible, Isaac grabbed the proferred foot by the ankleand, standing up, heaved Arnaud upside down so he dangled head-first overthe floor."Yah, let me go, you great oxen!" yelled Arnaud, his eyes wide withsurprise. Isaac bellowed in laughter, and shook Arnaud violently up anddown by his foot as if the man weighed nothing more than a rag doll. Coinsfrom Arnaud's changepurse fell to the floor in a metallic rain, rolling inall directions, and his rapier slipped from its sheuth to clatter on thefloor alongside his hat."St-st-stop th-that! I d-d-demand y-you c-cease or I sh-sh-shallb-b-become a-annoyed," said Arnaud loudly, trying to be heard over thegreat roar of Isaac's barrel-chested laugh, which seemed to shake the veryfoundations of the building.All at once, Isaac dropped him in a heap and wiped the tears of laughterfrom his eyes. Isaac de Portau was not a somber man, but his humour ranmore to the broad and physical than the sophisticated word-play his friendArnaud so seemed to enjoy. Buckling on his sword belt and placing hisfeathered slouch hat upon his head, Isaac swept out the door past a shakenArnaud, calling out behind him, "Beware, friend d'Athos, when you hunt thetiger, for sometimes the tiger hunts you."It was a short walk to the Hotel de Troisvilles, and the air helped clearde Portau's head, redolent though the air was with the smell of horsedroppings and the rancid sweat of too many people living in too small anarea. Dodging carriages and avoiding the pitiful bundles of rags whichslept in the street and ocassionally begged him for a few pistoles, hepicked his way through the narrow avenues.He was admitted past the guards without question, and he finally troopedinto the office where de Troisvilles was instructing a lackey of theerrands he was to run. "You may go," said de Troisvilles, nodding ingreeting to Isaac, who sketched a quick bow in return. Both men waiteduntil the lackey had left, Isaac closing the door at a motion from daTroisvilles.Jean-Arnaud du Peyrer de Troisvilles leaned back in his chair and surveryedthe King's Musqueteer before him. Having been the commander of theMusqueteers for many years, he was an excellent judge of character. Heknew, of course, that de Portau was brave and capable; that much was trueof every man in the Musqueteers, for they were the very best of France'sfoot soldiers, each one selected and approved by de Troisvilles personally.The problem he faced, however, required also other talents. First and
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