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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Funeris" data-source="post: 2481398" data-attributes="member: 22792">Chapter 1: Fate's Weave Continues...And for my loyal readers....here's another update (albeit brief)...-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Cassock slid quietly between the commoners.  With controlled effort, he silenced his armor, as much as possible.  The background was filled with a din of noise; barely controlled terror and anger rippling like a stream upon the voices.  He kept moving, forbidding the private discussions access to his mind.  His task lay before him.  All else was merely distraction.Two conscripts stood wearily beside the iron door into the dungeon.  With eyelids drooping, both appeared exhausted.   Cassock moved for the door and the guards snapped to attention.  They moved to block the door, shields guarding their torsos and longswords at the ready.“Wha’ ye doin,” grunted the older and hopefully wiser of the men.“I’m here to collect the prisoners.”  Cassock slowly lifted the parchment.The guard snatched the paper and unfolded it.  “The Cap’n said those whelps don’ leave.”“That may be.  However, I’m sure the word of the mayor overrules your Captain’s orders.”  Cassock smiled smugly.  The guard was attempting to read the parchment upside down.The second, younger guard leaned in to look at the parchment.  Noticing the position of the writ, he flipped the paper.  Quickly he glanced down the orders.The guard grumbled and fumbled for his keys.  He shot worried glances to his companion but opened the heavy door anyway.“Thank you.”  Cassock grabbed the writ as he passed.  However, the guard grabbed his shoulder.“You’ll need a guide.”“No I won’t.  I’ll be fine.”“Eh…well, you’ll need a torch at least.”  Cassock pivoted a bit, and brought his stare in closely to the conscript.  His black iris-less pupils bore into the man’s own eyes.“No.  I won’t.”  Cassock slipped into the chamber and pulled the door closed behind, preventing further interruptions.Quiet murmurs from filled holding cells followed the priest down the hallway.  With his gifted vision, he could see prisoners huddled in the cells.  They blindly looked for the noise that would give their intruder’s position away.  The darkness was too deep.  Cassock did not stop for these others.  His task waited at the end, near the flickering torchlight.A gruff, spiteful laugh echoed along the corridor.  The last ten holding cells were empty.  A buffer between the common vagabonds and the ‘murderers’, Cassock realized.  The laugh sounded again but was accompanied by jingling and a voice.“At’s right, you lil’ fu**ers.  I’ma piss on yur graves ‘omorrow morn.  Right after ‘e hangin’!”  An obese man strolled out of the farthest cell and into the light.  Cassock stopped his approach, staying within the shadows.  The watchman struggled to adjust his belt forcing the ring of keys to chirp metallically.  Once the belt was tightened and somehow managed not to snap in half, the corpulent man stepped up to the nearer of two cells.“Fu**in’ half-breeds!”  A blob of discolored phlegm erupted from his mouth and flew into the cell.  The sound of bare feet pressing lightly against stone preceded a half-elf slamming into wrought iron bars.  His arms had extended to grasp the overweight fiend.  Stepping back, the watchman eluded the grasp.  He smiled maliciously as the prisoner crumpled against the floor.  Rasping breath was quickly overcome by a female sob in the furthest cell.Cassock grimaced.  With one hand on his warmace and the other on the writ, he stalked out of the darkness like a spectre.</blockquote>

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