Lesches
!!8IfW6KKOZX2
(ID: QuGJ87ca)
10/15/2025, 3:17:08 AM
No.6318558
[bold]In the Palace of Eurykratides, King of Trachis[/bold]
Apologies for the long delay, anons. I have returned to see this quest to the end! We’ll pick up exactly where we had left off this past March.
---
But then, round Eurykratides stands to address you and his other feast guests once more:
“…Now, as many of you have heard, the victor of my Oetian Games will select a priceless treasure from my personal collection. Is it not right that these valorous men should know what they compete for?!”
The μέγαρον bursts into raucous cheering - your own interest is piqued. The obese king’s prior comments about an Argive shield come to mind... Eurykratides waves his plump arms; household servants bring in a bulky object – you immediately discern it to be a weapon or armor-stand, with a heavy blanket thrown over it. Eurykratides continues his verbal flourishes for another interminably minute, ensuring all present are hanging on his word, before the heavy blanket of the stand is dramatically cast aside...
You are momentarily dazzled by the jeweled shield that rests within – a stunned hush falls over the crowd as they observe the artifact. This is clearly the jewel of Eurykratides’ collection – the shield whose existence you weaseled out of the fat king a few nights previous. You recognize it at once as a work of sublime quality, far beyond what a man of his κλέος ought to possess.
Intricately detailed and flawless – nearly the entire surface of the bronze has been worked over in flowing designs – you peer intently, as the flickering torchlight plays over the rubies, emeralds, and sapphires. The scenes depicted strike you as familiar, somehow – they are of -
Of –
You know this shield.
You KNOW this shield.
A far-flaming disc, where lived, in perfect gold,
Danaus’ Night:
In fifty guilty bridal suites glow,
The Furies’ pitch-black torches;
The father himself at the blood-
stained doors praises the heinous crime
And inspects the swords…
You last saw it as a young man – barely more than a boy… Hanging in the halls of your estate, before the mansion became yours - you spent countless hours examining the surface, amazed at the tiny details of the inlay.
And then, after your father burned upon his pyre – it was never seen again. No – the shield went missing even before the funeral pyre of Aristomachus; your father was burned with a favorite spear alone. A mystery, swallowed whole by another. Your father’s abrupt death was rarely discussed in court – his missing shield, never. You had long thought it lost forever; you rock back on your heels – you don’t remember standing. Murmurs of concern rise from the other feast attendees, beneath your notice. A thought floods your mind, drowning your senses, flooding your ears, drenching your tongue, scrambling your wits:
THE MISSING SHIELD OF YOUR FATHER RESTS BEFORE YOU!
Apologies for the long delay, anons. I have returned to see this quest to the end! We’ll pick up exactly where we had left off this past March.
---
But then, round Eurykratides stands to address you and his other feast guests once more:
“…Now, as many of you have heard, the victor of my Oetian Games will select a priceless treasure from my personal collection. Is it not right that these valorous men should know what they compete for?!”
The μέγαρον bursts into raucous cheering - your own interest is piqued. The obese king’s prior comments about an Argive shield come to mind... Eurykratides waves his plump arms; household servants bring in a bulky object – you immediately discern it to be a weapon or armor-stand, with a heavy blanket thrown over it. Eurykratides continues his verbal flourishes for another interminably minute, ensuring all present are hanging on his word, before the heavy blanket of the stand is dramatically cast aside...
You are momentarily dazzled by the jeweled shield that rests within – a stunned hush falls over the crowd as they observe the artifact. This is clearly the jewel of Eurykratides’ collection – the shield whose existence you weaseled out of the fat king a few nights previous. You recognize it at once as a work of sublime quality, far beyond what a man of his κλέος ought to possess.
Intricately detailed and flawless – nearly the entire surface of the bronze has been worked over in flowing designs – you peer intently, as the flickering torchlight plays over the rubies, emeralds, and sapphires. The scenes depicted strike you as familiar, somehow – they are of -
Of –
You know this shield.
You KNOW this shield.
A far-flaming disc, where lived, in perfect gold,
Danaus’ Night:
In fifty guilty bridal suites glow,
The Furies’ pitch-black torches;
The father himself at the blood-
stained doors praises the heinous crime
And inspects the swords…
You last saw it as a young man – barely more than a boy… Hanging in the halls of your estate, before the mansion became yours - you spent countless hours examining the surface, amazed at the tiny details of the inlay.
And then, after your father burned upon his pyre – it was never seen again. No – the shield went missing even before the funeral pyre of Aristomachus; your father was burned with a favorite spear alone. A mystery, swallowed whole by another. Your father’s abrupt death was rarely discussed in court – his missing shield, never. You had long thought it lost forever; you rock back on your heels – you don’t remember standing. Murmurs of concern rise from the other feast attendees, beneath your notice. A thought floods your mind, drowning your senses, flooding your ears, drenching your tongue, scrambling your wits:
THE MISSING SHIELD OF YOUR FATHER RESTS BEFORE YOU!