Holiday in the Sun RPG

[Carrûn]

"I was wondering when you would deem in necessary to venture out. I'm afraid I've grown a bit restless in the short hour."

He smiled inwardly at her apparent restlessness. Careful, that can come back to bit you in the heel when you need to run. Frankly he was ready to be off himself, death of those he cared for was unpleasent but he always felt more secure when he knew it was lurking nearby. This apparent addiction combined with his powerful will and restlessness surged through him like the wines of the distant lands he had visited.

"Shall we exit where we entered or do you have yet another interesting pathway to follow?"

Awrygan shrugged. "I could show you pathes across the world few others know if you truely desired. However for the moment...," he kicked a small door open revealing a downward sloping set of stairs, "this should satisfy your curiosity and serve our purpose. It exits by the stables." Drawing his cloak about his shoulders he softly descended the staircase with Rochelle close behind.

As soon as they exited the Inn the man dropped into a comfortable crouch, then proceeded to light his pipe; a strange thing indeed. Turning so that his cloak hid the light he cupped his one hand and traced lines on it with the other. The pipe was lodged firmly in his mouth making his quiet muttering somewhat difficult to understand. "We will proceed to the warehouses in such fashion....a side door would be the best. Once we enter we will have to deal with any guards and then hopefuly we can take the children and be off. I am not in the mood for rescuing the entire city. If they are not in the warehouses, we will have to ask around as best we could to find out other possibilities." He licked the tip of his thumb and snuffed out his pipe. Turning to leave he glanced back once over his shoulder. "Don't tread on my heels." THen he glided like a shadow towards his objective, lethal and silent now that his path was fixed.

[Envinyatar]

The waters had been quiet these past few days. Hafez had brought the Windrunner and the other five ships just off the western tip of Tol Falas. Decked out as merchant ships, they bobbed peacefully on the waters near the small dock at that end of the island. He stood at the railing of the helm deck, his eye glass in hand, scanning the waters to the north and south. No ships had entered the waters from either direction in the past two days. And the only traffic around between the isle and the mouths of the island had been a small number of fishing boats on their daily journey to fill their holds with fish.

Khazdifir came up beside him. A breeze had sprung up, riffling the feathered earring hanging in the captain’s ear. ‘Anything?’ he asked Hafez. He frowned when Hafez shook his head ‘no’. Khaz was growing restless from the onus of daily inactivity. He turned his head, looking speculatively at this first mate.

‘How would you like to go on a scouting mission for me?’ Hafez said nothing, waiting for Khaz to continue. The captain gripped the railing and peered eastward, as if he could see beyond the isle and into the mouths of the great river. ‘Take Tariq and his ship, and make your way in all haste up the Anduin to the White City. Make contact with some of the merchants. Be my eyes and ears to what is happening there. I want to know if the Prince and his fleet will sail this way soon.’

That evening, under a slender crescent of a moon, the small ‘merchant’ ship made its way to the entrance to the river, and began to make its way upriver against the current. Men were stationed on either side of the bow to note the presence of any ships or larger settlements of men. At each watch they would report back to the captain or to Hafez with their findings which were duly noted on the map just taking form as they sailed northeast.

[Rochelle]

She followed him silently down into the stables. The smell of horses was still fresh and her heart clenched. She stood and looked around before her gaze drifted back to him, brow creasing at his unusual action. She smirked, not daring to say anything for fear of exposure.

Once we enter we will have to deal with any guards and then hopefuly we can take the children and be off.

She partially removed the dagger on her waist at his comment. Her thumb ran over the shining metal, riddled with runes. The blade was cold and sharp...it had been well taken care of. [I]Only a fool would wish to use such a weapon...[\I] Her knives, longer in build and stronger in stature were kept up near her quiver. Her bow too, was situated against her back, waiting to be used.

Don't tread on my heels

She turned to look at him again. Her face was set in a grim expression...so it begins. He set off into the darkness and after a moment, she followed. She made sure to stay several paces away, her dark cloak hiding her against buildings as they made their way. The air was salty, and a mist had settled in the streets. Keen eyes looked to the heights of the buildings and there she noticed a black figure. His movements were deliberate, as if he had no worries. She frowned, this indeed was a corsair. Perhaps he was on watch for another intrusion. Her eyes quickly scanned around but she saw no others.

Awrygan looked backwards and she motioned to the building. The figure was not in their interest she knew, but she would make sure that all party members knew of his existance. It is unwise to venture out when not all have been forewarned.

She moved up next to the man and lowered her voice to a mere whisper. "I am not sure if we should let him be, or if I should risk taking him out with my bow...I see no others but that does not mean that they aren't present."

[ March 14, 2003: Message edited by: Rochelle ]

[Envinyatar]

Darius led Prince Imrahil to the room where Bebberyn lay. The man was pale, and looked as if he had suffered greatly, but there was no time for the exchange of pleasantries and well wishes. Dol Amroth, or so he had understood, lay in the hands of the Corsairs, and Minas Anor was missing the King.

'Bebberyn,' he said coming close to the man, what has happened in Dol Amroth?' Darius came close and helped the wounded man to sit as he began his report.

[Schmendrick]

At nightfall Durmán reached finally the gates of Minas Anor. He had seen nobody during his ride, the woods had been deadly silent. He hadn't been able to shake off the feeling that something was wrong, but with who or what? Was it his brother?
With a shudder he remembered the day he had gone for a ride and had suddenly had the feeling - like now - that something was terribly wrong. Then he had been right.


Durmán was surprised to find even the white city unusually quiet, the air was thick, like before a great storm and once again the western sky was glowing red. Durmán was all the more surprised by this silence, for he knew that the prince was supposed to be visiting the city and this did not happen every day. Where were all the festivities? He tried to ask that from a few locals, but nobody was able to give him a decent answer. Some weren't even sure, if the prince had yet arrived or not. "This is most unusual", Durmán thought to himself "I have to find out what is going on here."


After having found a place to rest for his horse, Aladhas, Durmán made his way to the castle. The guard let him in, finally, when he showed the ring with the swan carved on it - the one her mother had given to him - and said he was distantly related to the prince himself. " I do not know weather I'm doing the right thing ", said the guard hesitantly, when they were finally standing behind the door. " The prince is paying a visit to a wounded stranger - a high guard of Dol Amroth, you'd better wait outside." After another moment of hesitation he finally said "I'm waiting here with you, in case you are not who you claim to be. We have already enough confusion here."

[ March 15, 2003: Message edited by: Schmendrick ]

[Envinyatar]

Beberryn began to speak in a low,weak voice, and Imrahil called for a cup of watered wine for him to drink to ease the discomfort of a throat long dry. Darius held the cup up for Bebberyn and the man took a few sips of the cool liquid.

'Begging your Lordhip's pardon.' Imrahil turned to see one of the city guard standing just behind him. The man motioned him to withdraw a space from Bebberyn's bedside. 'What is it, man. Speak up! I must hear what Bebberyn has to say while he has the strength to tell me.'

The guard told him of Durman,the Ranger, who stood just outside the door. 'He wishes to speak with you, my lord, but since we do not know him, we thought to alert you to his presence.'

Imrahil went to the door and bade the guard open it. He looked at the man closely, his eyes narrowing as he saw the ring. 'Who are you, Ranger? That you come at this dark hour, wishing to see me?'

[Carrûn]

Awyrgan's dark thoughts were interrupted by the shift in his companions footsteps. Turning towards her, he saw her gesture towards the rooftops of a distant set of building. On them, a man paced back and forth. He grinned slightly when he realized that Rochelle had noticed the figure before he had. His own eyes confirmed that it was no innocent citizen of Dol Amroth. He wished it was, and briefly remembered his own nighttime walks on the city walls in bygone days.

Rochelle was at his side whispering, bringing him back to the present. He had not noticed her bow before. He looked again towards the man in the distance. "He who dares wins," he murmured as a half prayer to Eru. He considered their options. The building was fairly close, he could reach it in about a minute. The wall was too high to climb, but...he drew the curved knife from his boot. Changing his mind, he replaced it and pulled a straight-edged one from his belt. He produced a thin curl of rope from his cloak and tied the knife to the rope with a strong square knot.

Turning back to Rochelle he spoke quietly, enunciating the words as smoothly as his could with the gruff whisper. "Give me about a minute and then fire." An arrow was already notched on her bow as he speed off towards the target.

Reaching the building, he pressed himself against the wall and slowly drew out the knife with the rope attached. An arrow suddenly came whistling through the air, striking the man in the neck. He made no sound, but toppled slightly. Stepping out, Awrygan sent the knife soaring up in an arch. The weight of the weapon sent the cord around the man and caught. With a tug, the man came crashing to the ground; but the green-eyed man caught him on the way and no sound was made. A second knife was in Awrygan's hand but he did not need it; the arrow had done its job. Pulling the man behind a building he hurried back to Rochelle. "Follow me - quickly."

They moved with speed through the darkened city for some time until the man slowed. Resting against a wall he handing Rochelle her arrow back. "A fine shot. Still, I thought it best to put some distance between us and the scene. The warehouses are close now, a few hundred yards that way." He motioned briefly with his hand. "I hope to be in and out before the sun rises."

[Everdawn]

Bebberyn saw Durman enter. "Durmán! my friend!" Bebberyn spoke. "m'lord, he is of my guard." Bebberyn coughed. " I have strength left, or so they tell me..."

"The corsairs, they took everyone by surprise, I ordered the checking of the freight ships, but none of this was carried out by the harbourmen. They came about on the morn, or night, i can no longer remember. They took the halls, my house on the hill, and m'lord, they took the palace."

He paused. "They were everywhere, they have slain all the remaining guards, And i fought, and was wounded, The corsairs have taken women and children as hostage. I could do nothing, i was wounded, I had to leave to tell you. Loyal Avanti bore me here, and now i am learned that King Aragorn is missing." he stopped. Darius frowned.

"They tell me that it is a flesh wound only, and I will be up in a few days, I will be ready to take on any order you will give me Lord." Bebberyn finished.

[ March 18, 2003: Message edited by: Everdawn ]

[Schmendrick]

The Prince had recognized Durmán and had let him enter. They did not change many words, for the guard had an important message to tell. For his surprise, Durmán recognized the wounded man; he was Bebberyn, one of the few guards who had treated him kindly, back in Dol Amroth. Durmán took a seat and listened to his story.


When Bebberyn finished, nobody said a word for a while. The Corsairs! Durmán thought. So he had been right – something was wrong. Why had he left Dol Amroth? Was everything all right with his mother? Durmán felt a sting of regret in his heart, when he remembered his mother bading him not to leave; the tears in her eyes, the nightmares she had told about.


Finally the Prince spoke. His face had grown dark. “ I can hardly believe this. The long years of peace had made us all sleepy, the memory of wars and danger had faded from our minds, though one would think such things could never be forgotten.
I sensed the danger – indeed, for days I felt like a dark shadow had been growing on the sea – but I did not take it seriously. And now I’ll have to pay for it.” He fell silent again. “ And here, Aragorn is missing. What is this; a conspiracy? And who is behind it? I find it difficult to believe indeed that the Corsairs would have reached Minas Anor, too…” He seemed to talk more to himself than to the others in the room. Durmán and Bebberyn remained silent, waiting for him to continue.


“This is a difficult decision for me to make”, the Prince said finally, “ for I am a Prince and my city is in danger. But I believe we must find Aragorn first. We cannot risk losing both cities to the enemies. We must find Aragorn.” The Prince turned to the guard. “Go find lady Arwen, she is the only one, who might be able to help us.”

[Rochelle]

She nodded in agreement as the man cautiously made his way towards the building. A loose arrow lay against her bow, waiting to be cast. She kept her eyes on the pacing corsair before raising her bow. Her perifial vision noticed that Awrygan had made it safely to the base of the building, and she released the arrow. It cut silently through the mist and cleanly into its target.

A smile of grim satisfaction graced her features as her eyes now followed the actions of Awrygan. As he felled the dark man to the street, she had moved up beside him.

At his word she followed a pace behind until they had reached a safe distance. She inhaled deeply "I didn't see any others nearby, so I doubt they'll raise much of a fuss anytime in the near future..." Though you could never be for certain in times like these.

She could see the warehouses. What was left of the moon through the mist, illuminated their edges against the night sky. The moved cautiously against the buildings until they were only feet away from the entrance. The mist was thick at the doors and she turned to Awrygan. "Do you see any guards?"

[Envinyatar]

Only a small guard had been left at the warehouse. One, in fact. Now that the children had been moved, those adults who were willing to work with the Corsairs were pressed into service. The rest were interrogated and then dispatched with.

At the moment, the warehouse only held two prisoners. The first was a man who had been the head of the Prince's household staff, and who, with some extreme encouragement, had been forced to divulge some of the secrets of the palace building.

The other was a High Guard of the city. He, too, had been 'encouraged' to give information on military matters concerning plans for defense of the city, and the number of troops the Prince had taken with him.

[Envinyatar]

Arwen was found and escorted to where Imrahil waited with Bebberyn and Durmán. Her face was pale from lack of sleep, but there was a certain gleam in her eye as she entered the room.

‘The King is being held in a dark place, somewhere near – his thoughts are strong at times. He wakes periodically, and the images he sends are of a small, dark room, stone with a thick wooden door. There is a barred grate, occasionally opened, through which some food and drink are passed . . . oh, and another image which always comes through – there are spiders, many, many spiders and the sound of a low, oily voice . . .’

[Schmendrick]

Durmán felt discouraged to hear this. How could they ever find Aragorn? Surely there were innumerable places that fit the description: walls of stone, a wooden door, spiders...


Just then the guard, who had escorted Arwen to the room, coughed. " With your permission, m'lord", he said turning to Prince Imrahil, "I have an idea about this place...There is a whole web of tunnels under the castle. I do not know exactly for which purpose it has been built, but I think it was, when---" he saw the others looking at him, impatient, " Well, as I was saying, there is this web of tunnels and my son and his friends once went down there - they thought it would be a great adventure - but very soon they came back, screaming. The whole place, they said, had been swarming with spiders, unusually big ones.
And I remember how Linghril, the king's advisor, laughed, when he heard about this. He said that a minute more and they all would've been...spider-food." The guard shivered. "Now there's a scary man, if you ask me. Bet he has something to do with all this."


The Prince nodded. "Yes, that's what we think, too. You have been of great help to us. Now, go and get some more guards to come with us. You will show us the way to the tunnels." The guard, who had turned ghostly white, nodded and was off to find some reinforcements.


It was only then that Durmán dared to speak. "What arms can we possibly use against spiders? Swords and bows do not scare them." The prince nodded, he seemed deep in thoughts. "No, you are right. If there are hundreads of them...We must make some plan, we can't just run there and get us all killed, that will do us no good."
Durmán hesitated, he had got an idea, but he didn't know, if it was worth saying aloud. Finally he summoned his courage.


"What about hot water, then? That would at least wash them away and make them lose their balance? And maybe we could even add something poisonous to it?"
Durmán felt his face blushing, as he waited for the others to answer.

[ March 18, 2003: Message edited by: Schmendrick ]

[Maegaladiel]

Lhingril strode down the darkened corridors of his maze, confidence in each step. The corsairs were attacking Minias Tirith. This provided a most convenient opportunity for taking the throne; it practically gift-wrapped the city and placed it in his hands. Gondor was a plum, ripe for the picking. And its harvest drew near.

While the guards were busy fighting the pirates, he and his army could sweep through the castle’s weak resistance like a knife through butter. Pathetically outnumbered and attacked on both fronts, Minias Tirith would be forced to surrender. And so would begin the Reign of the Spider. Today, he resolved, blood would flow like wine.
*******
Cadrir the guardsman shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He dearly wanted to be out with the others, fighting the wicked corsairs. But nooooo… He had to be stuck here guarding the castle from attack. Attack from what? Shadows? Peasants? Vicious squirrels? He wasn’t even stationed outside of the building, for Valar’s sake. Prince Imharil wanted a handful of guards to stay inside the castle to keep an eye out for danger. Danger. Hmph.

He really would have preferred joining in the search for the missing King Elessar and that scoundrel, Lhingril. To think that such a dirty louse would be admitted into the castle in the first place…

Cadrir’s attention was suddenly drawn to a small object skittering across the floor. It was a spider, the size of a large coin. Grimacing with disgust, the guard squished the creature with his shoe.

“Yeaaaachh!” he muttered, scuffing his boots on the floor in an attempt to wipe off its messy remains. Where the devil had that thing come from?

Cadrir leaned his back against the cold stone wall. His eyelids drooped, partially from boredom and partially from the resent of being left here to do nothing. As he rested, his ears picked up traces of a strange noise, reminiscent to knives or fingernails tapping on stone. The sound drew closer, growing in intensity with each passing moment.

“What the…?” Cadrir drew his sword. Now the sound was very close, echoing through the halls. Biting his lower lip, Cadrir peered around a corner into the dark corridors surrounding him. He gasped. The walls! They were moving!

The guard let out a startled oath as he realized the truth behind his observation. The walls were not moving. They were covered in giant black-and-red creatures, crawling towards him. Cadrir screamed. Spiders! Enormous spiders!

Before the unfortunate guard’s cries had ended, the living sea of legs and teeth engulfed him. The last thing he saw was a tall, dark man, striding besides the monsters. Cadrir reached to grasp the hem of his black cape, in a silent plead for help. The man looked down at him disdainfully, standing aside to let the creatures finish their first taste of Gondor's blood.

[ March 19, 2003: Message edited by: Maegaladiel ]

[Everdawn]

"Soon, i will be well. I will help!. You entrusted me with your city m'lord, and i failed you! But not now, never will I fail you again" Bebberyn cried, sitting up further in his bed.

"Should we start to assemble a guard, a recovery team, come, you have myself, Durmán, Darius?"

Darius nodded. "and other men here!"

Bebberyn was now calming. "Will you let us go Prince?, Lady Arwen, will you trust us to bring the king home?"

[Envinyatar]

'Durmán, Darius, and Bebberyn! We are most grateful that you have volunteered to do this. The sooner we find the King, the sooner I can return to Dol Amroth. Take as many men as you need, and plan carefully. I think this Lhingril probably has more planned than just the kidnapping of the King.'

Prince Imrahil left Bebberyn to the hands of the healers; the sooner he was cured the better. Durmán and Darius he directed to go find the men they needed to begin the search for the King. All three of them were then to meet to formalize their strategy for finding and rescuing King Elessar.

Imrahil escorted Arwen back to her quarters, then went to meet with the captain of his guards to discuss what they would do when they returned to Dol Amroth.

[ March 20, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]

[Envinyatar]

Sailing to Minas Anor took less time than expected. The wind was with them, and the sleek ship cut through the opposing current easily. Soon the port of Harlond was in view, and Hafez brought the ‘merchant’ ship in.

The quay had an uneasy feeling about it. Tense, though there was not much activity. Unusual, since this was the major trading port for Gondor. Hafez was mildly alarmed at the number of guard troops with spears and staves bristling who patrolled the area, faces grim, eyes sharp.

‘Stay aboard,’ he cautioned his crew, ‘and most of you stay below. Do not speak with the guard or any officials unless you are hailed, and even then pretend ignorance and call for me. I will not be far from the ship.’

Hafez pulled a black cloak about his merchant’s outfit and strode down the plank to the rough dock. A few questions to several of those near the ship, and he found directions to the Harbor Master’s office. The Harbor Master, himself, was grim faced and distracted.

It was not a good time for trading he warned Hafez. The city was in near chaos. The King had been kidnapped, and there were evil stirrings in Minas Anor. Rumors were flying that a creature of Shadow had come to claim the White City for his own. Hafez made the appropriate surprised and frightened remarks, thanking the man for his advice. He could scarce conceal his grin as he turned and strode quickly back to his ship.

‘Cast off!’ he cried, just barely aboard. ‘We have the information we need. Now we must fly back to Khazdifir.’

************************************************** ***********

Captain Narwen had delivered the directive from Yr Saldan to Khaz. And now the two Captains and their combined fleet of eleven ships set sail up the Anduin. They did not stop, but sailed on during the night, hurrying against the strong current as quickly as they might.

About two days south of the port of Harlond, they were met by Hafez. They anchored for the night and held a conference to discuss a plan of attack. They would use the boxes again to hold the armed men and place them strategically about the dock. At a signal, the men would burst from them and overwhelm the guards. Most of their looting would occur on the first three tiers – the second one being filled with trade shops. A small group of men would stay near the three ships tied to the dock and defend them. The other ships would be deployed in the river nearer the city.

‘We will dock in the evening,’ said Khaz, pointing to the port on the river. ‘Deploy the other ships here, here, and here. Hit the high end trade shops and the jewel and goldsmiths first, then the shops that sell the fine cloths. Take as much as you can, and do not linger. Should the Shadowed one already have made his move, we will move a small force up to the seventh tier and seek out the treasury, if we can.’ He looked closely round the table at his assembled captains. ‘Two days at the most, is all I want. A nice tight operation with as little bloodshed as possible. Then we set sail south to Yr Saldan.’

The next morning at first light, eleven merchant ships were bound for the White City. Their white sails unfurled in the early morning breezes, they plowed up the river toward their target . . .

[Lyra Greenleaf]

Eäris jumped as the carriage thundered past him. He heard his wife call him to get on, and for once unquestioningly, he did. The horses ran at full pelt away from the city. Eäris struggled to catch his breath.
"I take it-" he began, but had to stop panting. After a few seconds he began again. "I take it you have a good reason for leaving without your two youngest children, wife?" he asked Astarielle. As soon as he had said it he felt sorry. He had not meant to hurt her, for he could see how upset she was.

"I am sorry" he said gravely. "They have been kidnapped by these, these- pirates!" he spat.
Shock seemed to reverberate through the coach. There was silence among the many inhabitants for a moment, then they all began to peak at once.
"Quiet!" called Eäris. "We must get home, get to the King, as soon as possible. We must tell him-"
Suddenly he stopped with a humourless laugh. "What am I saying? Trying to pretend I am important? Dol Amroth will have sent messengers already. Faster ones, no doubt. There is nothing for me to do." He was speaking to himself now.
"I can do nothing" he whispered softly.

[ March 20, 2003: Message edited by: Lyra Greenleaf ]

[astarielle]

Astarielle comforted her husband, "You can do something, We can do something. We can search for our children. We had to leave as more of those priates were chasing us, but we have left them behind.Now we must concentrate on retrieving our dearest children".

Quoting from an ancient text, Astarielle said these words,

"Whilst hope lasts, victory will endeavour, but whence it should fail swift will be the darkness."

"We must never give up hope."

[Carrûn]

"Do you see any guards?"

Awyrgan jumped slightly as Rochelle spoke behind him. They were pressed up against the nearest warehouse, the fog providing them with limited cover. The man peered around the corner carefuly. Near the door stood a single man, slight in build for a corsair. He turned back to his companion. "One." He considered their options. "Let's take the direct approach."

Striding up to the door with Rochelle in tow he grinned broadly at the guard who stood with his mouth agape before demanding the green-eyed man's name. A knife was in Awrygan's hand. "My name would kill you." The corsair's eyes bulged and he drew his own sword. Before he could raise it a clenched fist with a hilt in it came smashing into the side of his face, shattering the jaw. Blood spurted from his nose as Awrygan picked him up, placed the knife to his throat as a warning, and then kicked the somewhat rotted door off the hinges. Rochelle was through the door quickly, arrow noched with Awrygan close behind with his "catch." They both stopped short as they entered the room.

It was all but empty. Two men sat slumped against the wall in pools of semi-dried blood. Awrygan recognized the uniform of the High Guard and by his dress the other was of some higher form of nobility. His tounge worked silently in his mouth for some time before words would come out. "Is this it?" The guard of Dol Amroth attempted what seemed to be a nod, but the other shook his head. He coughed blood, and struggled to speak. "There were others, adults, they took them but I don't know where...children...two...lots of guards came took them this morning....I think..." He slumped back into a semi-unconcious state.

Awrygan had let the corsair slip from his grasp onto the floor, where he was beginning to regain his senses. The green-eyed man gave him a swift kick in the ribs and there was a sharp crack. He dragged the man up, and pulled him roughly out the door as three surpsied pairs of eyes stared at him from inside. He saw red briefly, memories of what seemed a hundred years came flooding back. "Where are they?" The corsair did not answer, instead, he spit blood into the outcast Ranger's face. Something in Awrygan seemed to snap, he seemed like some dark lord; terrible and tall. "Poor decision...." A serrated-edged knife was on a rapid descent towards the man's throat before another hand intercepted it, catching the green-eyed man's hand in it's own. Awrygan's normally green eyes were still a flaming red as he turned to find Rochelle standing next to him. "Not like this." Her face was a calm contrast to Awrygan's as he slowly lowered the knife, and sent the man off into the mists with a mighty kick and a string of curses seldom heard by men. Rochelle looked at him. "I did not mean to let him go..." Awrygan turned away. "Then go after him." Rochelle shook her head and dragged the corsair back into the building.

Walking back into the warehouse he buried his knife up to the hilt in the wooden wall and stood silently, attempting to regain some sense of control over himself. He was more surprised at his antics than Rochelle, but it appeared the other way around as she glanced quizzicly at him as she passed. He was, for the moment out of the picture so she walked over to the palace noble. Kneeling down she spoke. "Do you have any idea where the children might be?" Awrygan stood silently against the wall, right hand resting on the burried knife, left hand slowly tracing the scar on his face.

[ March 23, 2003: Message edited by: Carrûn ]

[Rochelle]

She knelt beside the palace noble as he slowly struggled to open his eyes. The left was swollen beyond all recognition of an eye, and she grimaced at his pain. “Do you have any idea where the children might be?” His mouth opened to speak and all speech was lost save a whisper. “…the palace…they took them to the palace.” Speech was exhausting for the man and she looked up to Awyrgan who was lost in his own thoughts.

She returned her focus back to the noble. “Do you know the palace well?” The man nodded subtly. Her eyes looked him over, he had a major cut across his forehead which had caused his face to swell tremendously. She took out her medicine bag and revealed leaves of athelas. She crushed them in her palm, the sweet smell of orchards and pine escaped, bringing renewed vigor to those around. Carefully she placed the leaf shards in the cut and moved to rip off the hem of her cloak. With this she wrapped it about the mans forehead so that the medicine could do its work.

She sighed and looked to the corsair who had been cast aside. He had not dared to move from where he landed for fear of another assault. She stood and moved over to the man, kneeling beside him, hand on the hilt of her knife. “What devilry wroughts the minds of your comrades corsair?” The man just stared at her, this was the woman who had slipped from his grasp only the day before. He frowned and cursed Khazdifir for not allowing him to take up the chase when she had escaped.

She brought her knife to his throat, the tip testing the softness of his skin. “What was that you muttered? Tell me, what plan does your leader have with the children?” The corsair grinned a toothless grin, “Milady, you should be minding house and husband…not running around aspiring to be victor.” He uttered a short laugh before a blow to his temple sent him unconscious.

She ran the back of her hand across her mouth before resheathing her knife. “Bastard.” Her eyes darted to the guard, then to Awrygan. “I don’t think this corsair will be of much help to us…if the noble can manage to travel, I feel he may yet be able to help us in our search.”

[Carrûn]

Awrygan did not reply, but nodded silently. Rochelle's blow had stunned the corsair, but he was regaining conciousness. Picking him up, Awrygan strode back outside. He spoke to the man in his own tounge. "It is said corsairs fear dishoner more than death or pain." The pirates eyes blazed in hatred as two quick knife strokes removed the long braids of his beard. Awrygan spun him around. "Go know to who you will. Fear, for I will return for you." The man took two steps away and then spun around, leaping bare-handed and the darkened Ranger. Sidstepping him, Awrygan knocked him to the ground.

He strode to when a horse had been left tied to a post, its owner dead or forgotten leading it back to where the corsair lay he tied him to the saddle. "I doubted you would leave willingly. Pleasent travels." He held on to the horses bridle, whispering words of fear into its ear. Its eyes and nostrals flared and as the man released his hold it bolted into the darkness with the man on its back.

Walking back inside he found Rochelle again administering aid to the injured noble. He sat down next to the High Guard who seemed to be making a decent recovery on his own. The guard began to speak without prompting and for a time Awrygan listened in silence. He was somewhat relieved to discover (although it was unfortunate in retrospect) that the Prince was away in Minis Tirith. His own thoughts trailed off until they were again inturruped by the guard's voice. "I did not reveal all of the hidden armory locations." He grinned. "I used to be an actor, I guess it turned out to be a useful skill. There are still many weapons available if we could find the people to wield them." Awrygan laughed strangely and the man stopped talking. I walk South, am convinced to look for a couple of brats and now I'm supposed to help liberate a city. On the bright side, if I die trying I won't have to worry about getting dragged into this again. "I came here for two, not two thousand soldier," he said. He nodded towards Rochelle. "Words are wasted on me, you should talk to her." He sat back and lit his pipe. The guard produced his own and Awrygan helped the man light it. The two sat smoking waiting for Rochelle to finish with the noble.

[ March 23, 2003: Message edited by: Carrûn ]

[Envinyatar]

Prince Elphir, Imrahil's son, accompanied Durmán and his company of hastily gathered guards, down toward the lowest level of the castle.

Before they entered the level of the tunnels, most of them armed themselves with burning brands. They tied off the legs of their breeches and shirts to prevent the spiders from crawling into them, and hung fine netting from their helms, draping it down to protect their head and neck.

Some of them, who were placed in forward positions had great cauldrons of hot water held between two guards, and they had wrapped thick leather about their lower boots to ward off the heat of the liquid.

Just as they entered the stairway ot the tunnels, one of the guards cried out. there at the bottom of the stairs, in the dim light from the torches, they saw the crumpled body of a guardsman.

'Cadrir!' one of the descending guards called out, but there was no answer. When they reached him, his face was swollen and purpled from the poison of the spider bits.

The word passed back among the ranks of what had happened. each man shifted nervously and felt to see his own netting was in place and his bindings tight about the legs and wrists.

Then Elphir and Durmán rallied them, and all were filled with one desire - to find the creature and destroy him who had done this to one of their own.

Like a great, silent wind, they passed down the corridor - rushing first to find the King. Then would they sweep over the evildoers like a sharp scythe against weeds and cut them down . . .

[ March 24, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]

[Rochelle]

She had finished indeed and had overheard the men speaking. She was at a loss of what to do next. She made her way over to where they sat vigilant and made a place nearby for herself to sit.

She turned to the guard. "What are you saying sir? That you know of men who will be able to aid us? For I am certain that I know of none." The man simply smiled and puffed away on his pipe, content in his leisure. She stood and walked to the point where they had entered and cautiously looked outside. No one was in sight, but she felt they should no longer stay.

She walked back over to Awyrgan and spoke. "What do you propose we do now? Take these men with us or leave them behind? You know that I wish to make for the palace and find the children...but I am not exactly sure of the best course to take..."

No answer was brought forth at first and so she returned to her place beside the door. Her mind drifted to Quellë and hoped he was being watched over carefully. She did not know what the next hour would bring...but for some odd reason she trusted the coarse man with her, he had not betrayed her yet and his skill and experience seemed genuine.

The hood of her cloak had fallen and she repositioned it over her golden hair. She missed her fair clothing, but these new garments had not brought her misfortune as of yet. She flexed her arm slowly, it was healing properly and she would not even notice it soon.

[Carrûn]

"What do you propose we do now? Take these men with us or leave them behind? You know that I wish to make for the palace and find the children...but I am not exactly sure of the best course to take..."

Neither do I for sure, but it would not help to show that. Awyrgan shifted uncomfortably against the stone floor, attempting to find some semblence of a position that did not leave his joints aching. He hated these decisions, the ones that could lead to "what-ifs" but had to be made or there would be no time later to do so. He looked down to notice that his absentminded tapping of his knife against his hand had produced a few small cuts. Grinning, he placed the knife back in its sheath. He waiting a few moments longer before attempting to answer Rochelle's question.

He turned to the guard sitting next to him and tapped his shoulder. The man didn't respond so Awrygan reached over and snuffed his pipe. The man turned with a glare which Awrygan returned with a bright flash of green eyes. "Do you know if they were planning on leaving you here for a while or did they have other more interesting ideas?" Awrygan asked. The guard smiled grimly. "I think we have all but outlived our usefulness. Thus the small guard; I doubt they seriously thought that two broken men could do much damage. They were wrong." He paused. "I honestly think that my friend and I will not require your assistance much longer, thanks to the healing skills of your companion here."

Arwygan nodded. "I would have you come with us but four are no better than two for this; success depends on stealth not force. Unless you have several available companies of men readily available." The guard laughed darkly. "Not a company, but I could probably find a few groups if given some time." "That we do not have," said Awrygan. "However any trouble you could cause would undoubtedly aid us." The guard nodded and rose stiffly. "I will do what I can." He picked up a set of keys off the ground. "Lucky for us your pirate friend dropped these before you sent him off on a horse ride." With a slight bow to Rochelle he exited through the empty doorway and was gone. Awrygan turned back to the noble and Rochelle. He nodded silently as if assessing the situation. He knelt next to the man and examined him on his own for some time. His brow furrowed for a moment as if he found something that troubled him but he pushed it back into the back recesses of his mind. He helped the man shakily to his feet. "You should be fine in a few hours or so. Do you know the ways into the palace?" The man nodded weakly. "Good. I can carry you until you can walk." The noble was a slight man and Awrygan lifted him onto his back with ease. He turned to Rochelle. "Ready?" She nodded. "Very well. Try not to get injured, one is easy enough but carrying two may be a challange."

With that he walked out into the mists. He turned his head over his shoulder towards the noble. "Which way?" The man pointed off to the right and Awrygan strode off into the night, one on his back and one on his heels keeping a close guard on the rear as they approached the captured palace.

[ March 26, 2003: Message edited by: Carrûn ]

[Envinyatar]

There was the sound of hooves clattering on the stones outside the palace gates, and the ragged breathing of the great beast at the whispered urgings of its rider to go further on. The guards came running, their calls for the rider to identify himself unheeded. Blades drawn, spears at ready they approached the rider slumped over the saddle.

‘Grab those reins!’ one of them called, as the spooked horse neighed and reared up. ‘It is one of our own. Altayeb! He is injured and bound to the mount.’ Strong hands reached up to pull him to safety as his bonds were cut. The horse, free of his blood-scented burden, reared up once again and then with a mighty leap, flew over those who would restrain him, speeding wildly away from the perceived danger.

‘Take me to Yr Saldan,’ came the ragged voice of Altayeb to his comrades. ‘There are two who would enter the palace and see his plans come to nothing.’

Two strong arms helped the injured man to his feet, and helped him up the stairs to the palace. Yr Saldan, alerted by his guard stood in readiness in the entry way to receive him. ‘Lay him down there, on that seat, and let the healer tend to him.’ he directed the two who held Altayeb up.

He knelt by the injured man’s head, and gave him a few drops of chilled wine to drink. “Here,’ he said, ‘something to ease your parched throat.’ He looked closely at the man’s cut beard and the swollen, purpling bruises to his head. ‘Who did this to you?’

Altayeb raised himself weakly on one elbow and told the story of the two intruders at the warehouse. Yr Saldan’s eyes blazed with anger that they had been allowed to penetrate so far into the city. ‘Who was held captive there?’ he asked Altayeb, ‘And what were those two seeking at the warehouse.’ Again, Altayeb rallied and related what he had learned.

Once Altayeb had been taken to a room to rest, Yr Saldan went into the garden and paced restlessly, thinking hard. His ever present guard kept a watchful eye on him as he strode back and forth. After a dozen passes, Yr Saldan stopped abruptly before the guard and spoke hurriedly to him. ‘Find Jem. Bring him to me at once. It is the children they seek, and now they have one with them who has the knowledge to penetrate the palace in its secret ways . . . the ways we have not learned as yet.’ The guard hurried off to find the young Corsair.

‘Tomorrow,’ said Yr Saldan to the now empty garden, ‘tomorrow we will move the children. And if we cannot get the information we need from them, we will kill them . . .’

[Orual]

The children had been unresponsive to his teases and attempts at friendliness, so Jem had taken to simply watching them. They were frightened, he could see that. But still he admired their bravery, that they did not cry out or break during the sometimes overly harsh interrogations that they underwent. This time it was different, though, as the corsair questioning them had taken it upon himself to strike the girl, who Jem still referred to as "Myself".

Jem strode forward and caught the man's hand as he prepared to hit her again. "Don't hit a lady," he said in a low voice.

The man looked at him quizically. "What's gotten into you, Jem?"

"You don't hit a lady," Jem said, still gripping the man's wrist. His voice was a deadly whisper. The girl was staring at him.

"You've seen girls hit before. You've hit girls before. I don't think that you'd mind me hitting Airan. Besides, they hit girls where you came from, didn't they? In the slums?" The man's voice had now taken on a mocking tone, and he sneered at Jem, looking the young corsair up and down. "Yr Saldan was too good to you when he gave you this job. Even your street life didn't toughen you up enough for a corsair's life."

Jem's face twisted in rage. Letting go of the man's hand, he gave a roar and struck him full across the face with his fist. "Don't you ever speak of my childhood! You don't know what I went through. You don't know what I still go through! No child deserves to live like I did, and no child deserves to be hit like you hit her! I am their guard, and I refuse to submit them to this treatment. If you value your life, you will run. Very fast."

With Jem looming over him, the older corsair stumbled and fell, then took off.

"Don't mention it," he snapped to the girl, who hadn't even opened her mouth. "I don't want your thanks. I would've done it for any girl. I--"

"Jemennan, Yr Saldan wants to see you," a guard called, panting with exertion. He had apparently run the whole way from Saldan to Jem. "It's urgent."

Jem nodded curtly to the guard, then turned back to the children. "I'll be right back," he assured them, though he didn't know why. They probably didn't care.

He jogged to the garden, and found Yr Saldan. "You call--"

"Tomorrow," said Yr Saldan, "tomorrow we will move the children. And if we cannot get the information we need from them, we will kill them..."

Horror-stricken, Jem backed up, nearly tripping over the threshold back inside, and took off at full speed back to the cell, trying to find some way to save the children that he had been ordered to protect, from the man who had ordered him to protect them.

[ March 27, 2003: Message edited by: Orual ]

[Envinyatar]

The current of the Great River pushed the ships gently against the dock at Harlond. Here the river was wider to accommodate the ships coming into the white City’s southern port. Eleven merchant ships, bringing wares from the exotic southern regions lay at anchor, peacefully tied to the pilings. A few men moved about on board each, bringing crates from the hold to be piled on the dock. The sun was just setting as the last crate from the Windrunner was placed carefully on the quay.

‘Is that it, Hafez?’ asked the brown skinned merchant leaning on the bow railing. His dark, conservative cut clothing betrayed nothing of his Southron heritage. His dark eyes glittered in the fading light as he waited for his first mate to answer, his left hand going up to caress the feathered earring in his ear, forgetting he had removed it to play this part.

Hafez grinned broadly at Khazdifir, and nodded his head ‘yes’. ‘It will be like Dol Amroth, Captain. Only easier. This city is in disarray with the King missing. The guards are fragmented in their searches, and do not spare any men to patrol the lower levels of the city. It will be easy pickings and quick, if I have the right of it.’ His hand went down to touch the pommel of his sword, hidden beneath the folds of his cloak.

‘I and the other captains will remain aboard the ships with a crew of ten each. You will supervise the dispersal of the men on the lower tiers. Tell them they need go no further up than the third tier. They must secure the passage ways that lead to each level and post sentries to alert them of any interference from the city guard. I would avoid losing any men, if at all possible. This is to be a grab and run venture – concentrating especially on the warehouses on this level and the jewelers’ and metal smiths’ shops on the third tier. When the moon stands high against night’s dome, all are to return. We will make swift passage back to the bay and return to Yr Saldan with our bounty.’

‘As you wish it, so will it be.’ Hafez bowed slightly to his captain, and strode down to the dock.

The crate handlers were gathered round him, and he gave them brief instructions on what would be happening and when. Each went to his assigned post near a section of Southron crates, and settled in to wait for the signal. Hafez nodded up to Khaz, and perched casually on a piling, drawing his pipe and pouch out as if to enjoy an evening smoke on this fair summer’s evening . . .

[Everdawn]

And so the rescue party was stopped. Bebberyn took this chance to wipe residue from the blade of his sword. He watched Durmán and Elphir look over the poisoned guard.

Bebberyn stood at a junction of another tunnel which joined the one in which they were standing. There was a quiet ehco, movement far away. Bebberyn stood still and listened. Something was moaning. "Elphir, Durmán! I can hear something down here!, wait I will take some men and see what it is."

Elphir nodded and Bebberyn with a party of seven men, including Darius began to ward off to the left. Bebberyn took a torch and walked in front, always listening.

They came to another junction, this one was filled with more water. A light lingered to the right. Bebberyn cautiously approached it. There came a mouldy room, and a man, who was tied to a chair seemed to be unconscious.

"By the White Tower! It is the king!" Bebberyn exclaimed and rushed foward leaving the rest of the company to follow. Aragorn was pale and weak. Bebberyn cut his bindings with his sword. Aragorn moaned. "You are safe Lord, I am of Imrahil's men, and your own men are here, we have rescued you!"

"Here!" he yelled at the men. "Take the king, lets find the rest of the men and get out of here!" Darius and another guard by the name of Protoren took the king, his arms draped around their shoulders as they carried him to safety. Bebberyn ran ahead through the junctions until he came once again to the main party.

"I have found him!" He yelled.

[ March 28, 2003: Message edited by: Everdawn ]

[Rochelle]

"Very well. Try not to get injured, one is easy enough but carrying two may be a challange."

She gripped her bow firmly with a smirk. "I think I can handle myself..." She stepped into the mist and quickly took up the rear of the company. She walked silently a pace behind, eyes darting from rooftops to hidden alleyways, alert for any movement.

After they had gone a ways, she moved next to Awyrgan as he stopped against the building. Her gaze followed his and she saw the walls of the palace ahead of them. She also saw something that was not settling. The black figures of men were at guard, alert as if expecting something.

She looked back to the man with the noble across his shoulders. "I have no doubts that the corsair you set loose had anything to do with this call to arms..." her voice barely held register before she turned to the noble. "The main entrance is heavily guarded...is there no other way?"

The noble nodded "There are many ways in, but the tower is closest to the main entrance...if you can get to the side unnoticed however, the gardens might provide a less noticable approach."

She moved to look again. "I can not see the guard near the gardens, nor at the tower. I suggest we take that route none the less...it may prove to be less perilous than charging all those men."

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

As his sister returned to the cell, Rolan could only hug her and comfort her. The nerve of that man, to even think of striking a child, especially a girl! Rolan now had a new bit of respect for that man Jem, who had threatened the man who had hit Gil. Gil had only a slight trace of fear in her eyes, and for that, Rolan was proud to call her 'sister'.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Rolan asked frantically, ready to break out of that cell and kill the man who had struck her. "If I could have gotten near that man, why, I'd...I'd..."

"I know," Gil quieted her angered brother, and assured him profusely that she was alright, thanks to that Jem man.

"I'll be right back," The guard Jem promised the two, just before he ran off.

"D'you think we should tell him our names? He did kind of risk his neck back there," Gil wondered aloud.

"No, I think he's taken a liking to the names, 'Myself' and 'Him'," Rolan replied, just as the man Jem came stumbling back into the hallway in front of the cell.

"Something wrong, Jem?" Rolan asked curtly.

[Envinyatar]

Darius and Protoren, accompanied by ten of Elessar’s personal guards, took the King upstairs to his apartments. Arwen was alerted and a healer was brought quickly to his chambers. Imrahil had accompanied the Queen to Elessar’s side, and stood back until she motioned him forward.

He clasped the King’s hand firmly and Aragorn raised himself up on one elbow and pulled him near, speaking raggedly. He bade the Prince tell him what had happened, his face becoming grim at the news from Dol Amroth. He urged Imrahil to leave the White City soon and speed back to his own land, taking what troops he might need.

The Prince demurred, saying Aragorn would have need of his troops here, until the White City was secured. When that was done, then perhaps Elessar would send troops as needed. ‘I will in fact leave tomorrow at first light. Now that I see you are not mortally injured, Elphir and I will set sail with our men and return as fast as we can to our land.’

The healer stood near wringing his hands worriedly, and Imrahil took the hint, withdrawing with a grin and a nod to the King.

Once outside the door, he called for Darius. ‘Where are Bebberyn and my son?’ Darius explained that they had continued on the trail of the necromancer, determined to capture him. ‘He didn’t act alone, you know,’ said the Prince, as he walked along the open hall with the guard. ‘There was was someone well placed in the palace who assisted him. That is the other viper you will need to find.’

Imrahil dismissed Darius once he reached his rooms. He called for his assistant, telling him to get every thing ready to go - they would be sailing in the morning. ‘Ask Elphir’s assistant to square away his things also.

The Prince called for some wine to ease his thirst and took his map case from the chest. He pulled out a detailed map of his land and the terrain surrounding the city, and spread it out on the table in his room. ‘Call the captains of my guard – at least the ones who have not gone with Elphir, to come and attend me,’ he directed the guard at this door. ‘And send someone to have the Captains of my ships attend me also. We have plans to make before we reach Dol Amroth.’

[Envinyatar]

Search as they might, the necromancer had eluded them. ‘Gone like one of his nasty spiders, down some dark hole to crawl away and hide,’ came the voice of one of the guards when Elphir called a halt to their searches. Others of the guards laughed and snickered at this image, until Elphir’s quiet voice cut through their grim mirth. ‘A spider he is, men – and a dangerous one. He does not hide simply to escape us, but to lie in wait until his poisonous fangs can lay low one of us once again.’

It was getting dark, night was full upon the city, and the torches that they carried were burning low. ‘Post sentries at the entrances to the palace from these underground caverns,’ he bade the captains of the city guard who had accompanied him. ‘Let us all get some rest and we will hunt him once again tomorrow.’ Elphir and Bebberyn took their leave of the others and made their way back to Imrahil’s quarters.

[Envinyatar]

The moon had sailed behind the clouds, rising in its path to the top of night’s dome. Hafez glanced up at the Windrunner and made out the dark figure standing against the bow railing. A small hooded lantern was in the figure’s hand, and he opened the aperture in the face of the lantern three times in rapid succession. The signal had been given. Hafez strode quickly toward the first of the crates on the dock. Already the ‘merchant’ seamen were prying off the front panel of the large crates in answer to the signal light.

Ten men, dressed in black, armed with cutlasses and knives came silently out of each crate and grouped quickly with their leaders. Thirty crates, three hundred men in total now moved with a single purpose into the welcoming darkness. They spread out, looting quickly and efficiently the warehouses and places of business on each of the first three tiers. They made little sound as they moved up the streets and did not stop to menace people who chanced upon them. Intent only on securing what treasures they could, they made a thorough circuit as their leaders directed them and filled their loot sacks with all that they could find.

[Orual]

Jem was halfway to the cell before he realized that he was holding his breath, and had to twist his ankle three-quarters of the way there before he stopped to realize that he was crying.

How many years had he been with Saldan? Nearly ten? And all of them he had been deceived. He had always perceived Saldan as his savior, a man who cared about him, and just happened to be a corsair on the side. If he had cursed the foolishness that earned him his wounded arm, he cursed the foolishness that had gotten him involved with Saldan a hundred times more. He would have been better dead on the streets than a part of this crew.

He was only several yards from the cell when he stopped to dry his eyes, to make sure that the children did not see him weeping.

"Something wrong, Jem?" the boy asked as Jem finally approached the cell, still stumbling. His ankle was not badly hurt, but it pained Jem a little. He barely noticed.

"Shut up and just do as I say," Jem snapped. It was the harshest he had ever been with the children, and they looked at him, surprised. He gave a frustrated sigh and went to unlock the cell. "We don't have much time. I don't know who you are, but Yr Saldan wants you dead if you don't tell him. You didn't tell me, so I'm guessing that you won't tell him, and he won't ask nicely, either. I've got to get you out of here." He jammed the third wrong key into the lock, and cursed savagely. Then he looked at the children and cursed again, silently. "I mean, blast. Quit looking at me like that."

[Envinyatar]

Yr Saldan was restless. The many cups of wine he had consumed had not taken the edge off his worrisome thoughts. His resources for holding the city were stretched thin at the moment, and he had received no word back as yet from those he had sent North for information from Minas Anor. His thick finger traced the line of the river from the bay to the port of Harlond. Damn the founder of Gondor’s ruling city for not locating it at the mouth of the river! But then again, how clever of those sea-going Men of Númenor to place the chief city of this land away from the dangers of attack by sea.

A short, coarse laugh escaped him at this thought. If he had the right of it, his captains and ships should even now be looting the city. His fingers curled and uncurled, longing to be there with them. His feet on the deck of a ship, his blade gripped in his hand – watching the city burn and its streets run red with the blood of its weak citizens.

Wine splashed clumsily into his cup from his increasingly unsteady hand. He shook his head, thinking that it was best that Khazdifir headed this operation and not he. Khazdifir would see that the treasures of the city were taken and then leave swiftly, losing as little men as possible.

‘But then, he has the Sea and the deck of his ship rolling beneath his feet to keep his temper cool,’ he muttered to himself, sloshing wine on the map spread out beneath his hand.

The dark red stains spread over southern Gondor bringing another wicked laugh from Yr Saldan. What was he thinking that he should have condemned himself to being landlocked for so long a time. Pah! He spat on the smooth stone floor of the palace garden’s terrace.

His thirst for power was not alleviated by the wine, nor was it by his schemings from inside this landbound building. He could almost feel the walls close in on him, and the stink of the gardens was cloying and overpowering, as if the earth itself meant to suffocate him.

This was a mistake he said drunkenly to himself. To make a seaman into a king. Better he should torch this land, take its wealth and flee back to the free life he knew best.

Yes, that’s what he would do. Order the monies and treasures be put aboard the ships. Torch the city, killing those who would oppose him. Soon, soon . . .he could not stand much more of feeling trapped inside these walls . . .

His hand reached shakily once more for the bottle . . .

[Carrûn]

Awrygan glanced towards the seemingly vigilent guards at the main tower entrance. Obviously the man he "set loose" had returned to his master. Fortunately, this could work to there advantage in several ways. He nodded to Rochelle's suggestion and was about to move forward before the noble spoke quietly. "I think I can walk now." Awrygan put him down and the three crept silently into the guarden.

Moving along the one wall covered in foilege the noble produced a small key. Within a few seconds a small door opened. He turned to Awrygan and Rochelle. "This tunnel enters a side staircase that should lead you to the only dungons in this building. I don't know where else they would be keeping people." He paused. "I am sorry but I think I will be no more use to you here, I will find somewhere quiet to weather the storm." Awrygan shook his hand and the noble was off.

The pair entered the tunnel. It ended at a small door which Awrygan cautiously pushed open revealing a staircase that travelled upwards into the heights. They increased their pace, until they reached a hallway with rows of doors. Reaching the first one Awrygan peered through the bars. Looking through there was nothing. Moving on to the second he looked in to see a corsair. And the two accursed children he had been chasing. He turned to Rochelle and nodded. Drawing two knives he kicked the door open with a crash and strode into the room.

[Everdawn]

There was agreat look of concern on Bebberyn's face as he turned to talk to Elphir. "It troubles me to think that the same halls we ran through as boys is now occupied by corsairs." he frowned.

"And this spider- I must say i grow more pesamistic by the minute! There must be miles and miles of catacombes here, The only way to find them will be to fill the tunnels with kerosene and fire them out, but that may do more damage than we shall like."

He stopped suddenly. "or will it?"

[ March 29, 2003: Message edited by: Everdawn ]

[Envinyatar]

Through the haze of alcohol Yr Saldan heard the crash of the door from the hallway leading to the tower. He rose from his seat, unsteady, his reddened eyes trying to focus on the spinning entry way from where the sound had issued. He drew a long, ragged breath and leaned heavily on the table, trying to pull himself together.

Some semblance of normalcy returned to him as his mind clamped down on his wayward limbs and took control of them. He blinked, and his vision cleared somewhat. Drawing his blade he advance down the hallway.

There! At the entrance to the tower, there were sounds coming through the grate in the door. From above.

He opened the door cautiously, and crept up the stone stairs, one hand on the wall to steady himself in the darkness, to the source of the noise . . .

[Orual]

Jem finally found the right key and opened the cell. "Follow me, quickly. I've got to get you out of here before Saldan finds out what I'm up to. No, don't ask any questions! You'll just have to trust that I won't betray you. I won't. Besides, it's either trust me or get back into the cell and wait for Yr Saldan to come run you both through."

As soon as he said it, he regretted it. The children didn't show any signs of being distressed by his violent imagery, but he knew that they must have been. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I'm just in a hurry. I--"

As he spoke two people crashed into the room. He got halfway through another vicious curse, but stopped himself. They were not corsairs. They must be here to rescue the children.

"Take them," Jem said urgently. "If you're here to rescue them, take them. I can hold off here for a while. I'll tell the other corsairs that Saldan took them, and Saldan that the other corsairs took them. Please, help me save them."