Frildur Mad Eyes laughed insanely inside, crossing his arms around to the
back of his head contentedly. The Charrap's dark eyes glimmered maliciously
as he watched Gruven Zann whisper excitedly to the rest of his Charmark
comrades; unaware his superior was lurking in the deep shadow of the first
bunk row.
Gruven, a tall, muscular Charmark banged the table with his large square
fist, eyeing the other Charmarks around him. " Tis our chance! Mad Eyes has
a point- we can take Castle Iye for ourselves! With Iye gone and Sawney
locked outa the gates with naught but his stupid slave, there are no
reinforcements to 'elp Crimson!"
A Charmark swilled the pennycloud grog around his deep wooden tankard, his
hand drawing slow circles on the side of it pensively. "You have a point,
Gruven, but who's going to lead us? You?" He struggled to keep the contempt
out of his voice. What Gruven lacked in the brainbox, he made up on his
forearms. Gruven Zann was well known for his sporadic acts of violence,
fueled by an explicitly short temper, which wasn't well harnessed. Gruven
sneered.
"What, you think I can't lead you buffoons up against Crimson?" His hand
slid to the rapier thrust into his cloak girdle, fingering the plain
crystal pommel stone almost lovingly. The Charmark shrugged, fending off
the energy tensing Gruven's spring.
"I didn't say you couldn't."
"Well then shut yore pie-hole and listen good. I have a plan."
Frildur snorted audibly, and the entire gathering of Iye's Charmarks gasped
in unison, staring panic-struck at Frildur's hiding place. "I doubt a fat
glob such as yourself would be capable of storming the keep."
Gruven's body tensed; inwardly relived the man's veil was down. "Yea, 'n
what would yore plan be?" He snarled, feeling confidence welling in his
wide chest with over three-score Charmarks to his back, and a veil
separating him from Frildur's hypnotic stare.
Frildur's lips curled into a malicious smile as he slid from his
comfortable straight-backed oak chair propped up on back legs to the
barrack wall. Spreading his arms wide in a gesture of submissance, Frildur
glided forward to Gruven, letting the big Charmark notice his lack in
height. "For one, picking a smart, sensible leader to rally the Charmarks.
Charraps are too well bonded to Crimson to do any harm. But that doesn't
matter."
"Oh yeah, you're a Charrap! Ye could be a spy. I could gut ye right now,
and what 'd say to that?" With eye-blurring speed, Frildur plunged his hand
into his pocket, lithe fingers twisting sharply on the small, smooth metal
hilt of a tiny three-inch crystal dagger, warm from the heat of his body.
The blade slid effortlessly between index and middle finger, whipping it
from the pocket, its bark-cloth sheath removed fore hence. Without even
tensing his arm, Frildur jerked his wrist abruptly, causing his blade to
hurdle directly forward, revolving once around, spiraling cleanly upward,
the blood channel flashing once in the dim lighting of the barrack, before
becoming buried to its hilt in Gruven. The large man gurgled once, hands
flying up to his severed jugular spraying blood down his robes, then
dropped like a stone.
Frildur smiled, stepping contemptuously on the man's torso, saying more to
Gruven's carcass then the stunned assembly, "I say Lask Frildur takes no
shitting around from a big-mouthed ass who can't count backwards if his
life depended on it." He looked up, surveying the crowd through the blood-
red mist-like material before his eyes. His hypnotic power wasn't in need
tonight, the entire Charmark rank was faithfully snuggled into his hands.
And Frildur layed out his plans without hesitation, standing in the pool of
Gruven's collecting blood without remorse or change in expression.
"Sir Crimson, there's figures on ee horizon." Grall winged in, hurriedly perching on the stone window ledge of Crimson's antechamber. Crimson smiled darkly. "Good spotting, Grall. Who's in the party?" "Ach, I didn't goo far enough to see 'em close, sir. Just some elves." "Heading.?" "To here, sir." Crimson laughed softly. "Good. This must be the little party hoping to regain the dragon necklace." Pensively, Crimson moved over to a hulking cedar bureau, tugging on an ornate brass knob opening the central cabinet. Crimson, all too aware of the jackdaw's curious gaze, drew forth a crystalline box, letting it glitter in the noonday zenith. He walked back towards the jackdaw, setting the sparkling box beside the dark talons of the bird, allowing the sun's golden rays to bounce off the box in a shower of colors. Crimson opened the box, and lifted a small object from its plush red-velvet bedding. He held it aloft, letting Grall identify them. It was a pure crimson dragon, formerly a clear green, but still solid jade. "You probably ask, why am I using it?" Grall looked up at his keeper, unsurprised at Crimson's odd talent of guessing the thoughts of others. "I don't use it, because I am not interested in resurrecting what's-his-name, because it would only bring trouble to me. I am more powerful than Sauron was ever. He was a brash fool, and deserves to have his carcass left to rot in the abandoned Pits. Once he returns with the One Ring of power, my little set would be complete. The power I can wield with those two combined would be great, but I am going to use it only when one visitor comes calling, so as he shall never come calling again." "Sir Sawney?" "There's a surprise, you dumb featherbag." Snarled Crimson irately. "Of course Sawney is to die. Iye wanted him and I to work together under him, but Iye is dead and his corpse is rotting with maggots chewing out his overly confident brain as we speak. That document I showed to the others was false. I will use these to destroy Sawney utterly, thusly displaying my power to those under me, gaining their complete loyalty through fright. After I pry the ring from his dying fingers, of course. I've seen it, and it will work. Those who aren't impressed will die." He added nonchalantly, watching the twinkling object catch the golden shafts falling on it. "Sauron was a fool to let his own creation absorb him entirely, and control him. I will use his tools once a while, so as I am in control of them. Go get my Charraps, Grall. I'm going to rally them together in preparation of Sawney's return." "But, err, if you don't mind me adding, Sir Crimson, but as I was returning from my scoutin', I saw the fore-barracks were still packed with Charmarks, and I doubt they are still loyal." Crimson's smile widened with genuine glee. "I know this already, but I am glad you told me, as I know you know, and if had you chosen to remain silent and let scheming go on behind by back, I would have killed you, then hung you out on the north spire so as the crows can pick our your eyes." Grall swallowed with difficulty. Crimson wasn't one to make over-sized statements, and fail to keep them.
As Castle Iye became a hive of plotting double homicides, the elves, Matthias and Sagitar camped out it the waning light of evening in the rocky outcrops once serving as the far-east branch of the Pits. "Here's the plan. We have too little numbers to attempt storming the main gate or the walls. Siege is out of the question, as these castles are built to withstand that. The idea is to act as a guerilla union." Astenfire said, scratching out her plans on the bare, dry, reddish soil at her feet with an arrow-tip. Sagitar shook his head, tugging another green-fletched arrow from the quiver laying behind his friend. Using the tip to point to the small rectangle representing the main gate. "If this castle is like a normal one, it's bound to have a postern. It would be easiest to attack from there." Astenfire pondered this for a moment, and used her arrow to tap her drawing again. "Maybe, but mayhap not." "We can check it later. If we attack from the postern, it would get is inside the castle. Most likely near the keep. It might be guarded, but perhaps only a wall top guard on the battlements." "Mm. It could work, if there is one. We can scout it out. If it does have one, it's most likely hidden or positioned on an out-of-reach place." Sagitar smiled; glad his friend accepted the tentative idea. "Why not go now? We'll have the cover of darkness." Astenfire nodded, standing and thrusting the arrow back with its fellows. "Makes sense. It would not, however, to take everyone." Sagitar agreed, tugging on stolid-faced Aragorn's cloak sleeve. "Come on, before the rest notice. Matt- oh, there you are. Let's go." Like a wraith, Matthias appeared at Sagitar's side from the shadowy depths of his haggard habit, one corner of his mouth curled upward.
The postern gate was indeed in existence, a simple wicker frame reinforced with cedar planking and an iron crossbar from inside. A small portal, no more than five feet in height, half-hidden by a jutting rocky outcrop, let off a luminous glow as the moon's slanting pale light fell upon it. Sagitar shifted his weight, resting his hands on a large dark red boulder, its surface warm and smooth. "There," He whispered in Astenfire's ear, sending a prickly sensation racing down her neck, "we can attack from here. See the wall guard? He's sleeping- leaning against the parapet. The day watch is probably even more monotonous. See the heavy robe he's donned? The night is warm and gentle, even on these flatlands. Day is roasting hot, as it was on the Dead Marshes. That's probably uniform. The day guard will be even more uncomfortable; probably will be hulking down in the parapet shadow. This is definitely the weakest place." Astenfire nodded, and found her voice with difficulty. "I still think we should have a backup. Perhaps we should split in two groups. One as a destraction, the other going in through here." Sagitar agreed willingly, Aragorn showing his consent through a mute nod. Matthias watched the redstone building like a chicken views the ax, his gaze a jumbled mass of awe and terror. Astenfire, unconsciously aware of her close-quarter position with Sagitar at her side, inhaled slowly and calmly, very aware of her gradually flushing cheeks and quickening pulse. "You okay?" Aragorn asked, eyeing her suspiciously. "You seem out of breath." "Nerves." She lied, distractedly fidgeting with her quiver, silently praising the darkness. "Let's go. We have a big day tomorrow." She added, shuffling off the edge of the outcrop, and dropping to the sandy gravel below, all to conscious of Aragorn's curious stare.
"Sir Crimson, there's figures on ee horizon." Grall winged in, hurriedly perching on the stone window ledge of Crimson's antechamber. Crimson smiled darkly. "Good spotting, Grall. Who's in the party?" "Ach, I didn't goo far enough to see 'em close, sir. Just some elves." "Heading.?" "To here, sir." Crimson laughed softly. "Good. This must be the little party hoping to regain the dragon necklace." Pensively, Crimson moved over to a hulking cedar bureau, tugging on an ornate brass knob opening the central cabinet. Crimson, all too aware of the jackdaw's curious gaze, drew forth a crystalline box, letting it glitter in the noonday zenith. He walked back towards the jackdaw, setting the sparkling box beside the dark talons of the bird, allowing the sun's golden rays to bounce off the box in a shower of colors. Crimson opened the box, and lifted a small object from its plush red-velvet bedding. He held it aloft, letting Grall identify them. It was a pure crimson dragon, formerly a clear green, but still solid jade. "You probably ask, why am I using it?" Grall looked up at his keeper, unsurprised at Crimson's odd talent of guessing the thoughts of others. "I don't use it, because I am not interested in resurrecting what's-his-name, because it would only bring trouble to me. I am more powerful than Sauron was ever. He was a brash fool, and deserves to have his carcass left to rot in the abandoned Pits. Once he returns with the One Ring of power, my little set would be complete. The power I can wield with those two combined would be great, but I am going to use it only when one visitor comes calling, so as he shall never come calling again." "Sir Sawney?" "There's a surprise, you dumb featherbag." Snarled Crimson irately. "Of course Sawney is to die. Iye wanted him and I to work together under him, but Iye is dead and his corpse is rotting with maggots chewing out his overly confident brain as we speak. That document I showed to the others was false. I will use these to destroy Sawney utterly, thusly displaying my power to those under me, gaining their complete loyalty through fright. After I pry the ring from his dying fingers, of course. I've seen it, and it will work. Those who aren't impressed will die." He added nonchalantly, watching the twinkling object catch the golden shafts falling on it. "Sauron was a fool to let his own creation absorb him entirely, and control him. I will use his tools once a while, so as I am in control of them. Go get my Charraps, Grall. I'm going to rally them together in preparation of Sawney's return." "But, err, if you don't mind me adding, Sir Crimson, but as I was returning from my scoutin', I saw the fore-barracks were still packed with Charmarks, and I doubt they are still loyal." Crimson's smile widened with genuine glee. "I know this already, but I am glad you told me, as I know you know, and if had you chosen to remain silent and let scheming go on behind by back, I would have killed you, then hung you out on the north spire so as the crows can pick our your eyes." Grall swallowed with difficulty. Crimson wasn't one to make over-sized statements, and fail to keep them.
As Castle Iye became a hive of plotting double homicides, the elves, Matthias and Sagitar camped out it the waning light of evening in the rocky outcrops once serving as the far-east branch of the Pits. "Here's the plan. We have too little numbers to attempt storming the main gate or the walls. Siege is out of the question, as these castles are built to withstand that. The idea is to act as a guerilla union." Astenfire said, scratching out her plans on the bare, dry, reddish soil at her feet with an arrow-tip. Sagitar shook his head, tugging another green-fletched arrow from the quiver laying behind his friend. Using the tip to point to the small rectangle representing the main gate. "If this castle is like a normal one, it's bound to have a postern. It would be easiest to attack from there." Astenfire pondered this for a moment, and used her arrow to tap her drawing again. "Maybe, but mayhap not." "We can check it later. If we attack from the postern, it would get is inside the castle. Most likely near the keep. It might be guarded, but perhaps only a wall top guard on the battlements." "Mm. It could work, if there is one. We can scout it out. If it does have one, it's most likely hidden or positioned on an out-of-reach place." Sagitar smiled; glad his friend accepted the tentative idea. "Why not go now? We'll have the cover of darkness." Astenfire nodded, standing and thrusting the arrow back with its fellows. "Makes sense. It would not, however, to take everyone." Sagitar agreed, tugging on stolid-faced Aragorn's cloak sleeve. "Come on, before the rest notice. Matt- oh, there you are. Let's go." Like a wraith, Matthias appeared at Sagitar's side from the shadowy depths of his haggard habit, one corner of his mouth curled upward.
The postern gate was indeed in existence, a simple wicker frame reinforced with cedar planking and an iron crossbar from inside. A small portal, no more than five feet in height, half-hidden by a jutting rocky outcrop, let off a luminous glow as the moon's slanting pale light fell upon it. Sagitar shifted his weight, resting his hands on a large dark red boulder, its surface warm and smooth. "There," He whispered in Astenfire's ear, sending a prickly sensation racing down her neck, "we can attack from here. See the wall guard? He's sleeping- leaning against the parapet. The day watch is probably even more monotonous. See the heavy robe he's donned? The night is warm and gentle, even on these flatlands. Day is roasting hot, as it was on the Dead Marshes. That's probably uniform. The day guard will be even more uncomfortable; probably will be hulking down in the parapet shadow. This is definitely the weakest place." Astenfire nodded, and found her voice with difficulty. "I still think we should have a backup. Perhaps we should split in two groups. One as a destraction, the other going in through here." Sagitar agreed willingly, Aragorn showing his consent through a mute nod. Matthias watched the redstone building like a chicken views the ax, his gaze a jumbled mass of awe and terror. Astenfire, unconsciously aware of her close-quarter position with Sagitar at her side, inhaled slowly and calmly, very aware of her gradually flushing cheeks and quickening pulse. "You okay?" Aragorn asked, eyeing her suspiciously. "You seem out of breath." "Nerves." She lied, distractedly fidgeting with her quiver, silently praising the darkness. "Let's go. We have a big day tomorrow." She added, shuffling off the edge of the outcrop, and dropping to the sandy gravel below, all to conscious of Aragorn's curious stare.