Rising Sun: Issue 5

The Memory of Haakon

45

Making your way toward the guard, you try to disguise yourself as a high-ranking Vassagonian Noble. Smoothing out your features, you speak in an almost flawless Vassagonian accent, pronouncing the language like a native born in the center of this vast city.

'Authorization.' One of the guards barks abruptly, his voice grating through the air.

'My own dear cousins,' you respond arrogantly, looking down a now crooked looking nose at the short man. 'If you do not let me through quickly I advise you to start looking for a place to hide that head of yours, it seems inflated enough that we might need to remove it for your own safety soon.'

'Don't recognize you.' The man says, this time with trepidation, scared of what might occur to him if what you say is true.

'Come now,' You say, 'I don't have all day for this nonsense, either let me through now or I will report you to my cousin personally.' With that note of finality you sweep past him expecting to be let by.

The Guard, properly cowed lets you pass, watching you as you exercise a flawless disguise of a disgruntled Lord. Chuckling to yourself, you swiftly make your way through the palace halls, weaving your way through its veritable maze of rooms until you find where the great birds, the Itikars are kept.

Turn to 24.

Contact: TheRisingSun@bigfoot.com http://www.crosswinds.net/~therisingsun/August2000/Haakon/45.htm