Quoted By:
Shock recedes – and fury rises in its wake. How did the shield of Danaus’ Night come to Trachis?! Now, Eurykratides’ past terrified conduct makes sense – his insistence that you swear the strong oaths is cast in a new light. Treachery and thievery – it is only means by which your father’s shield could come to rest in this midden heap. The Trachians present now know that something is amiss – they stare at you with increasing alarm as your face reddens and hands curl into stony fists. Eurykratides is holding up his hands, pleading with you:
“Please, Hippomedon! The oaths, the oaths you swore! HONOR ZEUS Ξενιος!"
A friendly hand comes to rest on your shoulder - Faibokranef the Aegyptian gazes at you with concern, asking you some question in accented Hellenika - you are too angry to discern his meaning. The Sardinians, twin sons of Heracles, are standing now as well, their jaws clenched, prepared for the possibility of violence. On the far end of the table, Hyperenor remains seated - his eyes watch you wolfishly, dissecting your weakness.
>Anons previously rolled a 4,15 – double-passing Hippo’s rage check
But you clench your jaw, find your control once more. You are not some barbarian blind to obligation, willing to kill guest-friends at a moment’s notice- even the lowly Trachians benefit from Zeus' law. You sit heavily once more.
Your reaction was noticed by all, and in particular, by the Theban Hyperbius*, who eyes your birthright hungrily. You’d rather die than let a Theban carry your father’s shield into battle against you. You do your best to keep up appeareances - sipping at the mediocre wine and chewing the charred pork. Faibokranef, the Aegyptian, now sitting next to you, pats you reassuringly on the shoulder, before whispering in his accented Hellenika:
"Iz yur shield, Hippomedon?" You cannot hope to tell the full tale to the foreigner, but his gesture is appreciated - you shake your head in a friendly fashion at him. The atmosphere in the room is punctured - the men present speak in hushed tones, ther eyes sliding in your direction now and again. You've ruined the celebratory mood, unfortunately, and so you elect to head to your small guest rooms early.
---
In the morning, you perform some light exertions in an effort to keep limber. The next "Labor" in these Oetian Games was announced as the "Bulls of Crete" - you can only guess that you'll be wrestling with one of the straight-horned beasts. In the early afternoon, you rest, and in the late afternoon, you take your steeds out for a ride on the trails surrounding Trachis. Crowds of filthy Hellenes and devotees of Heracles Προμαχος alike bathe you in their admiration - always a balm to your nerves. As you return to Trachis, you note with interest that a new group of steeds are stabled there - a double quartet of well-bred beasts, stallions all.
I kept referring to the Theban prince as “Hyperenor” by mistake last thread, whoops.
