Quoted By:
The foolish old man, a human of advanced
years, aroused Sinfel's curiousity. He's
grown almost tired of stalking the woods
and mountain cliffs he's called home.
The chance for a more intelligent quarry
was too tempting. And if he knew his dark
Mistress, she could use a playful
distraction. The old man was shouting and
pointing his finger at the assembled
warriors, admonishing them with all manner
of insults and shaming, as if they were
but a gaggle of boys. The thought that
Sinfel could be nearly twice this mans
age didn't escape him.
A swift strike with the flat of his blade,
crumpled the man. Small groans and
the labor of lungs showed he was alive.
The quick fingered dance from his free
hand informed his second in command (Dumu)
to bind the man. The gathered throng of
the village seemed to have lost the light
within them. Perhaps they're unsure if the
horror they've awoken to is not just a
terrible nightmare in itself. That the
dark skinned figures shouting at them from
the dark, surrounded by torchlight and
the corpses of friends would disappear
with dawns light.
"Take the children, leave 15 of the Guards
to garrison this village. I shall send
word back if the Mistress has any demands.
For now, we must consider this a conquest,
not a mere raid." Signed Sinfel to Dumu.
~
The slave train carried on sluggishly.
Little feet and crying babes stumbling
over the rocks could not match the
pace of Lizards. But all night and into
the late morning, the secretive entrance
was at last visible to Sinfel. Quick
shouts and signals were given to the few
veteran guard who stood watch, and the
wooden gates were opened. A few sun rays
dared to strike at the darkness of the
cave mouth, as if seeking to steal back
the nights prey. Sinfel dared to look
towards the morning sun, embracing its
hateful stare. He gazed long into the
mountain vista, watching the heavy
wooden gate close, casting him back into
the darkness.
The newly enslaved were taken deep into
the belly of the cave, their footsteps
slowly echoing away. And through the
lightless halls, Sinfel walked with a
lions stride. His swagger did not stop,
not even for the sense of danger that
grew like rot in his gut. Past the final
corner, he spotted a loathsome figure in
the darkness, his body heat a quiet
whisper above the background radiation
of the cave walls.
"Habta, do you always sulk in front of
the Mistress' chambers?" He asked, not
caring for an answer. The figure chuckled
to himself.
"Asking questions Sinfel? I didn't think
you used that head of yours. That is, if
you weren't finding ways to grovel." Spoke
the Shadowblade, the only other Drow
in this House to share the Mistress' ear.
Sinfel ignored the comment, his hand
seeking the door. Habta stopped him.
"To a stubborn headed rothe; she's not
in a good mood." Sinfel found himself
alone, with his retort caught in his throat.
VOTE:
>Knock on the door
>Eavesdrop
>Step into YOUR room
