Valde Celer's Men
Shadows danced on the walls of the poorly lit room, a flickering flame perched upon a candle on the round, central table. A dozen shadowy figures stood, shrouded by black cloaks and blacker darkness, speaking quietly. Outside the door of the small, stone hut, a slender man leaned, peering into the night.
"Our next order of business - the imminent rebellion. Does anyone have any news?" asked a scarred man, quietly.
"I have a way to enter the capital undetected, Malecai." offered one figure. Stepping forward, splashes of candlelight betrayed his features as he spoke. Bangs of jet-black hair protruded from the hood of his cloak, reaching down towards his richly tanned face. "I know a man, a merchant... he's well trusted by the city guards, and they rarely search his goods. Over the course of several days, we could smuggle our agents into Ereptor," he explained, the scar along his left cheek quivering as he spoke.
"It's settled, then," Malecai responded, nodding to the face as it moved back into the shadows. Scanning the small room despite the lack of visibility, he nodded once more to himself before talking again. "It's growing rather late, so we'll adjourn shortly. However, I have one final issue to address, for our next meeting - who will stand guard while we finalize our plans?"
Silence enveloped the room, as invisible tension clung to the air. Each man knew that standing as sentry was a position of honor, one only earned through trust. However, the planning at the next meeting would be extremely vital, and they all had concerns or suggestions. Malecai looked around the room, his eyes seemingly penetrating the darkness.
"I will," stated Sirius boldly, stepping into the meager candlelight once more. Hidden by flickering shadows, mild amusement danced in his eyes and a slight grin twisting the edges of his lips.
"Acceptable," Malecai stated, nodding. "I trust there are no objections?" he asked, more out of formality than actual desire to hear dissent. Pausing, he looked towards a man near the door. "Devan, get Celwik and inform him of our plans," Malecai commanded. "I believe the Guardian is near its zenith, so I declare the Crimson Claw adjourned for another eleven days. May you all be cunning and swift."
Upon hearing this, a man standing beside the door turned and opened it, stepping outside. Glancing at the silvery sphere as it hung high in the sky, Devan nodded towards the middle-aged man standing bravely against the night. Moving towards Celwik, Devan spoke quickly and quietly, the events of the meeting spilling out of his mouth. As the two men stood in the deep night, 11 cloaked figures trickled out of the hut, quickly evaporating away to their sundry dwellings.
Shadows danced on the walls of the poorly lit room, a flickering flame perched upon a candle on the round, central table. A dozen shadowy figures stood, shrouded by black cloaks and blacker darkness, speaking quietly. Outside the door of the small, stone hut, a slender man leaned, peering into the night.
"Our next order of business - the imminent rebellion. Does anyone have any news?" asked a scarred man, quietly.
"I have a way to enter the capital undetected, Malecai." offered one figure. Stepping forward, splashes of candlelight betrayed his features as he spoke. Bangs of jet-black hair protruded from the hood of his cloak, reaching down towards his richly tanned face. "I know a man, a merchant... he's well trusted by the city guards, and they rarely search his goods. Over the course of several days, we could smuggle our agents into Ereptor," he explained, the scar along his left cheek quivering as he spoke.
"It's settled, then," Malecai responded, nodding to the face as it moved back into the shadows. Scanning the small room despite the lack of visibility, he nodded once more to himself before talking again. "It's growing rather late, so we'll adjourn shortly. However, I have one final issue to address, for our next meeting - who will stand guard while we finalize our plans?"
Silence enveloped the room, as invisible tension clung to the air. Each man knew that standing as sentry was a position of honor, one only earned through trust. However, the planning at the next meeting would be extremely vital, and they all had concerns or suggestions. Malecai looked around the room, his eyes seemingly penetrating the darkness.
"I will," stated Sirius boldly, stepping into the meager candlelight once more. Hidden by flickering shadows, mild amusement danced in his eyes and a slight grin twisting the edges of his lips.
"Acceptable," Malecai stated, nodding. "I trust there are no objections?" he asked, more out of formality than actual desire to hear dissent. Pausing, he looked towards a man near the door. "Devan, get Celwik and inform him of our plans," Malecai commanded. "I believe the Guardian is near its zenith, so I declare the Crimson Claw adjourned for another eleven days. May you all be cunning and swift."
Upon hearing this, a man standing beside the door turned and opened it, stepping outside. Glancing at the silvery sphere as it hung high in the sky, Devan nodded towards the middle-aged man standing bravely against the night. Moving towards Celwik, Devan spoke quickly and quietly, the events of the meeting spilling out of his mouth. As the two men stood in the deep night, 11 cloaked figures trickled out of the hut, quickly evaporating away to their sundry dwellings.