Archive.fm

The Skinner Co. Network

FPSE12 - The Princess’ Long Ride, Part 1 of 1

Broadcast on:
12 Jun 2012
Audio Format:
other

Part 1 of 1

Read the full text, as well as the show notes, at http://flashpulp.com

Tonight, we find ourselves riding with Sofia Esperon through a fantastic land of blades and bewitchment.

(upbeat music) - Welcome to Flash Pope, special episode 12. This evening we present the Princesses Long Ride, part one of one. Tonight's episode is brought to you by Nettie Bites. Wake up, go to work, work, come home, eat dinner, rot your brain out, go to bed, lather, rinse, repeat. Are you tired of an old home drum life? Tired of things that just weigh you down and depress you? Aren't you rather just focused on things that are awesome? Tune into Nettie Bites, find out what's awesome. Nettiebites, nimlas.org/blog. Flash Pope is an experiment in broadcasting fresh Pope stories in the modern age. Three to 10 minutes of fiction brought to you Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evenings. Tonight, we find ourselves riding with Sophia Esperon through a fantastic land of blades and bewichment. A Princesses Long Ride, part one of one. Written by J.R.D. Skinner. Art and narration by Pope and Acts. An audio produced by Jessica Mann. ♪ You miss 'em day ♪ Sophia Esperon was a princess of the Hundred Kingdoms and the Mount beneath her was a chestnut stallion at the full height of its power. The horse was hard at its pace, its breath pounding the air as much as its legs beat the turf. Behind her lay a turmoil of upturned grass and men. The trouble had begun when the Princesses had found herself caught between the mire of the damned and the western spout of the Mad Man's trough. A river widely reputed to scatter minds and leave behind muttering husks. She'd known it to be a poor choice for travel, but she deemed the expediency a necessity. And the alternative, a week's travel down the King's highway, followed by a diplomatically long celebration in the bridge town of Webling, was beyond consideration. A day's ride later, however, the man-sized bats of the malignant swamp were quick to support the argument for taking the safer route. Their broad wings and bone-shivering screeches were enough to drive back her retinue, but not the Princess herself, who'd broken from the pack of nobles, hand-selected by her father, to drive further into the cat-tails and mud. Sophie had been inside of the marshes and some two nights following when the Muxgardian, Carke, overtook her. Carke had little respect for any sovereignty other than his own, and no interest in conversation, but the whispering of his black-eyed horde. Esperon's captivity amongst the Reedy Fortress was spent with damp boots and annoyed shouts, both ignored by her jailer. Carke's focus was too absorbed in the mystic concoction he'd set about preparing, and a lickser whose major component, only to be added at the moment of apex, was an inordinate amount of still-warm blood from a true princess. The citadel, which had been grown through occult means from the white cedars the bog itself, was frustratingly slow in igniting under Sophia's flint and tinder, and by the time she'd thoroughly judge the winds and stoke the flames, the banner flags of the local noble had arrived upon the scene. The thick limb she'd taken up as her defense was hard-pressed to fend off the howling sorcerers' leathery minions, but it was with some surprise that she found herself landing in the arms of the Duke of Somdak, after vaulting the smoldering outside wall of the compound. He was quick to explain that the smoke had drawn him, and that, in truth, she'd done him a favor, as he'd been tracking the fiend who'd fouled his game-ground's water supply, a crime easily laid at Carke's feet. It was the extent of their discussion, as Somdak was eager to conquer the remote bastion, and so Sophia was made to wait with the Duke's serving eunuch, while the men of the column unsheathed their blades. The Duke's guard, a half-thousand strong, had little trouble dealing with the blight upon their hunting lands, and, after a brief exchange of arcane lightning and crossbow bolts, the wizard's head was adorning a pike at the ruin of his gate, and the host moved again to the fiend's edge. Given their easily rusted chain and played armor, Somdak and his swords were eager to be beyond the moisture. At least, such was their excuse when denying her request to Palovar with the Duke, though she could see him, even at her distance, holding open conference with his flask of stout. She was left to ride the eunuch's tired mare. When they finally encountered solid ground, and the hunting party's followers, set handsomely amongst their caravans and extravagant campsites, Sophia knew she was once again bound by the tedious politics of court. Within a full sight of his supporters, and at the perfect dramatic moment, the Duke dismounted. He began loudly, "My dearest princess!" only to find his mind drawing a blank. "Damn, my apologies," he whispered, as he leaned close. "Well, I call your title from our first encounter. Your father's name and house escapes me at the moment. Your beauty seems to have wiped it from my mind." Boasting bravado, and a copious amount of victory ale upon the march were more likely amnesiacs by Sophia's considerations, but her own perception had remained, as ever, clear. "My lord, do you not even recall my name?" she asked. The Duke looked at his closest lieutenants for assistance, but the woman's annoyance at being disregarded had prevented her from disclosing details of her position to any amongst the company. "A shameful admission, true," said Sondak, with some urgency. "So, speak it quickly, and ease my heart's dismay." Standing in the yellow light of the grassy plain, she briefly watched the beseeching latharios sway under the way to his well adorned plate, and considered her response. Then, with a determination that would one day unite the kingdoms beneath her, Sophia raised high her palms and gave a mighty shove against his iron chest plate. Before the Duke might be righted, Sophia took to the saddle of his stallion and laid in her heels. There was no time for idle romance. She had a prince to save. [Music] Flashpulp is presented by flashpulp.com and is released under the Canadian Creative Commons attribution non-commercial 2.5 license. Text and audio commentaries can be sent to skitter@skitter.fm or the voicemail line at 206-338-2792. But be aware that they may appear in a future flashcast. We'd also like to thank the Free Sound Project, found at freesound.org. For a full listing of effects used during the show, as well as credits for the users who provided them, please check this episode's notes at flashpulp.com. And thanks to you for listening. If you enjoyed the show, please tell your friends. [Music]