Unruled Lands.
In an underground cellar, Helbe the elven thief removes the hood from the last of the prisoners that he's captured.
The young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel, faintly smiles as the prisoner, the youngest of the lot.
Blinks from the light of a nearby lamp as he looks around and sees where he's being held captive, and who he's in captivity with.
A look of shock appears on the face of the man in his early thirties when he sees who else is a prisoner with him.
The elven masterthief, who is a member of the personal council to Lord Farque. Gets up from his kneeling position, and slightly shakes his hooded head as he looks at the dozen prisoners in the cellar.
They're all bound, with their ankles tied together, and their wrists tied together behind their backs. As they sit there on the floor of the underground cellar.
The youngest is the last prisoner, while the oldest is a man in his seventies. There's men and women both. Of varying ages in between. Of all shapes and sizes, and all human.
They all know one another. In fact they all work together most of the time. And they thought their actions would bring about new fortunes for themselves and the nation they're from.
The dozen prisoners are the ruling council of the city-state of Tuledare. And over the last couple of days, one by one, they've been captured by the elven master assassin.
The captives are more than a little despondent. Their captor has told them that Tuledare has been defeated by the Phamalian forces. He's actually not certain yet. But he suspects Tamric Drubine the field commander has been able to defeat the Tuledarian forces by now.
He has also told them that they're going to pay the consequences for starting the war against the city-state of Phamal.
He just hasn't told them how they're going to pay for it. He's left that up to their imaginations. And they all imagine they're going to pay with their lives.
Which is more or less true eventually, if the young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel has his way.
But for now the grandson of the ruling prince of Laerel has other things to attend to. And after checking all of the prisoners again. Making sure they're securely bound.
The elven master archer who is a member of the personal council to Lord Farque, makes his way from the underground cellar.
The elven masterthief in the white hooded cloak, opens the door and exits the cellar, and closes the door behind him, he steps into one of the below deck passageways onboard a Krean scoutship.
The cellar is infact a highly detailed illusion spell, cast by one of the navigators onboard. Navigators being the highly powerful Krean practitioners of magic.
The illusion spell, which is even beyond the ability of the young elven princeling to cast. Would fool anyone who didn't know it was there.
Even Helbe himself finds it difficult to see what it really is, and he knows what it actually is. Which is in one of the small cargo holds, here onboard the Krean scoutship.
The highly skilled elven magic user, leaves the captives in the locked cargo hold, thinking they're in an underground cellar, somewhere just outside the southeast border of the city-state of Vexil.
The elven master assassin heads along the passageway, and he's met by one of the crew. Infact it's one of the ship's navigators. The very one who cast the illusion spell which is holding the captives at this time.
"Highness word from the field commander" says the Krean spellcaster after he slightly bows to the young elven noble in the white hooded cloak.
"The enemy have been defeated, and have surrendered" continues the near six and a half foot tall, dragon like biped.
The navigator, whose wings are folded against his back as he stands there in the passageway pauses for a moment or two, before he adds "Well officials at the council headquarters have surrendered".
"Good enough for me" says Helbe the elven thief, who continues with "And for those down in Phamal too".
The Krean practitioner of magic nods in agreement with the highly talented elven spellcaster, then he says to him "The captain wants to know if we should return to the city of Tuledare?".
The young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel, who commandeered the warship and it's crew from Tamric Drubine's forces. Without actually telling the young field commander what he was going to do.
Nods his hooded head, then says to the navigator "Probably best that we do" he silently adds, Tam is probably pissed that I took this ship.
The Krean spellcaster doesn't say anything for a few moments as he silently communicates with the other navigator onboard, who is in the wheelhouse.
Then the two legged dragon like Krean tells the elven masterthief "The captain says we will be departing soon".
Prince Helbenthril Raendril gets a bad feeling about things, when the green lips of the navigator pulls back in their form a smile, before he says "In a count of sixty".
"Shit" mutters the elven master assassin, who looks back to the door of the cargo hold where the prisoners are being held.
As he does, the Krean spellcaster tells him "They'll be fine, that's why I've come down here to make sure they're secure and don't know what's happening". He briefly pauses before adding "Under forty now your highness".
The elven practitioner of magic winces and takes off running down the passageway, to the sound of laughter from the Krean navigator.
Helbe the elven thief who wonders how much the crew has bet on him, though he figures most have probably bet against him.
Approaches one of the few portholes on the vessel, he glances outside and shifts.
He appears outside in midair about forty feet from the small, sleek, dark mastless airship. In an instant he shifts again.
And appears on deck of the scoutship, next to the low wheelhouse, at the stern of the warship as it starts to rapidly dive downwards.
The grandson of Prince Raendril of Laerel is relieved to see the port side door to the wheelhouse is open.
He rushes inside as the warship which is picking up speed continues to pitch forward at an alarming angle.
The port side door slams shut behind him, and as the crew in the wheelhouse, who are all off the decking, and hovering in the air with their wings flapping behind them, ignore him as the navigator here counts down, he's at fifteen now.
The elven master archer leaps to the jump seat before it's impossible to stand at all, let alone upright. And with a quick spell he straps himself into the jump seat.
Why it's called a jump seat, no one knows. Not even the Krean themselves, who keep calling it that for traditions sake.
Prince Helbenthril Raendril prefers to being here in the wheelhouse, in the jump seat. Compared to below deck with the rest of the crew, and being strapped into one of what they refer to as the idiot seats.
Being a non Krean can be extremely hazardous when their ship's, especially their strikeships, and even worse their scoutships, like this one, fly to their full potential.
The navigator's count is under ten now, and one of the crew calls out the speed. And the elven masterthief winces when he hears the airship is flying at over two hundred and fifty knots, straight down towards the ground.
Which he can see rapidly approaching through the clear screens that run along the front of the wheelhouse.
He also sees a sky rift appearing, and at the count of five, the captain shouts "Now!". Then the scoutship shoots forward, or more correctly, downwards at over three hundred knots. And enters the sky rift that has formed.
Helbe the elven thief as he tightly holds onto the straps keeping him in place, can't help but grin as they shoot into the sky rift.
They're not in it long, barely a count of two. Then they're flying out of the other side. This time completely level, about ten thousand feet above the city of Tuledare. Which was well over five hundred miles from where they were just a few moments ago.
"Tuledare below us" states one of the crew, who like all the other Krean, have been speaking elven for the benefit of their guest onboard with them.
"Ships of our fleet hold the skies over the city" continues the crew member.
"Very well" says the scoutship captain, who then turns and says to the elven master assassin who is unstrapping himself "Didn't think you were going to make there for a moment highness".
"Nor me" whispers Narladene the ground pixie who has just landed on the right shoulder of the elven princeling she's attached to.
"Nor did I" sourly says Helbe the elven thief, which causes the captain and the crew in the wheelhouse to laugh.
Then as those crew members who bet on the elven master assassin collect their winnings, the captain tells him "Had to make it a bit difficult, considering your abilities".
The young elven noble just shakes his hooded head, as he gets up out of the jump seat, which is built into the back of the wheelhouse.
Then the captain, who like all Krean captains. Is like a god on their vessels. Where they're deferential to no one. What they say goes.
With the exception of the undead of Farque, in particular Lord Farque himself. Who all Krean honour. After all, the Krean Protectorate, is in the mountainous north of the Lands Farque.
Says to the elven masterthief "Highness shall I inform the field commander of the prisoners?".
The elven master assassin who is a member of the personal council to Lord Farque, thinks about it for a moment, then he says "No, not at this moment".
Helbe the elven thief can't help but grin as he continues with "I'll tell him myself, it'll be a surprise".
Not only that, it'll cause a ruckus for sure, the elven princeling thinks to himself, who can't wait until that happens.
As he knows taking the ruling council of Tuledare, who were in hiding, prisoners. Is going to change a hell of a lot of things, in the aftermath of the war between the city-states of Tuledare and Phamal . . . . . .
No comments:
Post a Comment