A warning, Knights.

[Ayla]

All she knew as she remained still was that it was dark... Dark, cold, and completely void of any life. Her worst fears. Ayla slowly opened her eyes, the horrors of what to expect bluntly exposed as the truth. Stuck, fallen into a deep pit, she was trapped in a dark abyss surrounded by the stench of moist dirt, mold, and littered with rocks. She could feel dull aches running all along her body, which was far less covered than had been what seemed only moments before.

Moaning quietly, Ayla shoved herself to a sitting position, wincing as she feels a knot upon the back of her head and bruises littering her body. Peering around, she felt a cold sweat, that of utmost fear, break across her bare skin. Slowly, ever so slowly as if she did not believe it, her gaze travelled over her surroundings. Not but high walls of earth and stone. Looking up, she barely caught the light of a noon sun breaking through the edges of a door far too high to reach.

Slowly, painfully standing up, Ayla realized finally her situation. Just as Jorokar.... She had been captured, and so easily. With shaky knees, she stood, leaning for support against the cool, moist dirt wall of her cage. Trying in vain to remember what had happened, she could only recall moments upon that roof before painful blackness swallowed her. Now, as she stands in what rays penetrate the hole, she sees that her captor, whoever it had been, had stripped her bare, aside from only undergarments and her emerald necklace. Seeing this, a sudden rage seems to diminish the fear.

She had been taken advantage of when in a state of utter confusion. Someone.... someone had seen her vulnerability and taken it into hand. Anger twists her face as she spins, hopeless eyes searching for some possible way out. But the dawning realization that it was impossible only made it worse. Before she even knew what went, Ayla found herself pounding, clawing, kicking the walls that closed in on her. Rage fueled her actions as she continued, beating the walls until her hands bled, her feet bruised. She tried to escape that desolate hold, but to no avail.

Knowing now that an attempt to escape was hopeless, Ayla returned to the far shadows of her cage. Sliding down the wall, ignoring the scrapes from stones, she let herself quietly slip into a sense of numbness. No one... not a single person would hear her cries. It was pointless to try and escape. She was alone, vulnerable... No one was there to help her. These thoughts, these realizations hit Ayla in a landslide. Her screams of rage, now dissolved in wasted tears. Her wrathful blows, now not but an attempt to comfort herself. Surely, her friends, her brethren of the knights would not allow this continue. Surely... she wouldn't be simply left to die... She wouldn't be deserted.

Falling into a hopeless depression, Ayla lets herself curl up, knees to her chest and arms wrapped about them. Silent tears fall down her cheeks as her once proud eyes now stare blankly. By the hunger ravaging her body, she had been asleep, passed out, for at least three days. But how? How could... one blow have done this? Closing her eyes tightly, Ayla realizes that all she can do now is wait. Wait and pray to the Gods above she is not left. Wait and try to stay calm, to find comfort in something, even someone. With a heavy sigh, Ayla falls silent, eyes closed and thoughts wondering, trying her best to simply forget...

[Dantagon Marescot]

A hooded figure walks up to the boards. When he reaches the notes he turns to make sure no one is around. As soon as he is sure no one is around he draws a knife from his pocket. He quickly runs the knife over his finger. The man jumps, sucking on the finger for a moment. His hand raises and he writes one name with his finger on the seers parchment. The blood drips down the parchment, still not dry as he turns to leave.

Dain

[A dark figure]

On the fifth of Ronas, three large, bulky orcs shattered the peaceful quiet of Troll's Bane's sleeping streets.

Talkative servants have declared that one of the hulks, snarling angrily, would inquire everyone on their enraged path, where the elf 'Salhari Whitewalker' was.

A man, and a few elves, having refused to cooperate with the orcs, were obliterated, battered, and severely injured.

One of the beasts, blood drizzling off his blade, approached the town's wall, roughly slapping a piece of parchment glued to the boards, written in a shaggy handwriting, barely legible, in a poor New Language;

Yoo lucky, Salhairy Whitewalka.
Ib yoo be in town next time we pass bies, me blade through throat. Yub.
Tha Seer warned yoo, yoo nub obey, people dies, because ob yoo.

And for Dantagons, Tha Seer wants yoo speaks ter us. Post here dates and times, weh see ib we can comes.

The three hulks slowly strolled out of town, carting their bloodied weapons behind them.

[Dantagon Marescot]

I will speak to the "Seer" only. Though it is us who see all. We know who you are and we know what you plan.

-- Sir Dantagon Marescot

[Gildon de Vymont]

The hulks who, assuming, works for the seer had apparently abducted Page Apprentiance Ganon Harper, who is now in 'visiting' their chief.

If we could make a deal, Seer, that would be much appreciated. I do not know why even you are disrespectful enough to capture a 14-year old boy, but we are willing to neogogiate for him back..


-Gildon de Vymont
Squire of the Knights of Gobaith
Protector of Trollsbane

[A dark figure]

As he strays out, glancing behind his shoulder, making sure the other two orcs fight off followers, the tall, rigid hulk carried on running, with heavy, bold steps, under his arm, Ganon Harper, not daring to speak a word.
As he arrived to the southern gate, he slapped a message to the wall, an already-written parchment, it reads;

You play my patience, Dantagon.
You pretend to know who I am.
Name me, and I'll release all the prisoners,
and confess, for me to be jailed.
Name me, even if you already have.
Since you do not take me seriously,
and decided to be disrespectful,
another member of your mediocre
organization is now under my clench.
Ganon Harper, quite a nice lad, rots
where you will not find him.
That is my, very, very last warning.
I hope you do not attempt anything
I disapprove upon any of my orcs,
simply hoping, you know?
The Seer

[A dark figure]

He approached, peaked by the wall's corner and smiled. A large grin of satisfaction invaded him as they released the man, and went to seek him again at the arrival of the leathered skin. He stung a new note on the jail's wall, before straying out of town.

You have given me the idea for quite a game, Dantagon.
For every wrong guess you make about who I am, I will
abduct that very person, and chop off a finger. Sounds good?
You know what bad decision you made today, that man will
soon be in my possession.

The Seer

[Michael Isman]

...

Michael Isman
Former Recruit of the Town's Guards

P.S: Please, do not kidnap me. Thank you.

[Dantagon Marescot]

Make sure to send Michael back, Dain. Or is that not the name you wrote upon your own note? If it is not. I will enjoy watching you be slain instead.

-- Sir Dantagon Marescot

[Bailey Thunnigan]

Bailey leans against the wall close to the town board. With her arms crossed her gaze wanders over the place, while her thoughts recall the several messages written upon the board. Though her thoughts are racing, she herself feels weary.

Her brows actually slightly furrowed in concern, this concern didn't belong only to the knights and her recruit - but also to Dain. She would need to find the man and speak to him. How troublesome can one person actually be, she wondered, before she shifted her gaze to the sky.

[Achae Eanstray]

With his dried blood still on her skirt and blouse from sewing so many sutures closing the gash in his stomach that she lost count, Achae reads the posts with brows raised and gets out pen and parchment.

I don't know about any other night, but tonight, Dain appeared too ill to be able to go anywhere.

Achae Eanstray
Member of Druids of the Forest
Medico

[Katherine van Illdoran]

Katherine pins a parchment underneath the other message. It's written in a neat handwriting:


The orcs who are working for the Seer look like following:
One of them ((142**)) is rather tall and a large one, he wore quite finely made armour. The other ((631**)) is short, wore leather armour and had red paintings on his face. The third ((296**)) is overweight and about 6 feet tall.

Maybe people should look out for these orcs and stay careful around them. No one should go alone anywhere with them,...

Yours,
Katherine van Illdoran

[Troll's Bane]

Seer,


by your foolish and recreant actions of kidnapping members of the Town Guard and Citizens of Troll's Bane you acted against Laws of Troll's Bane and any honor a warrior should have.

Troll's Bane considers you as Criminal, as Outlaw. You will be punished for your actions. If you let all hostages free and face upon the Town Guard, Troll's Bane will give you your life. Otherwise the punishment will be harder.

Answer soon


~Siltaris~
Governor of Troll's Bane

[A dark figure]

A tall orc, with a quite large bod, approaches the town's walls through the north gate. He hurriedly pins a message, before straying right out of town, snatching a few other parchments with him.

Dear Siltaris,
you don't mind me calling you Dear, do you?
It is quite nice, how you try to protect your
town like helpless rats having nowhere to go.
Yes, I said YOUR town. At this point, we all
really know what your intentions are. I hope
the citizens will help me in my actions, once
they know what my aim really is.
But please, please go ahead and make me an
official wanted criminal. Just like your pathetic
Wanted Posters. Tell everyone my full name,
whether I am a male, or a female, my race
perhaps? You see? You have no clue of who
I am. You suspect so much people...
That poor Dain, the recruit Michale, Zub 'Agor
maybe? You have no control over me, Governor.
It is I who will control you.
Now keep those threats silent and avoided, and
I'll try avoiding hurting that sweet kid Harper.

I don't need to sign this note, do I?

A little note is scribbled in a fast, barely legible
handwriting, in what narrow space is left on
the bottom of the parchment:

Meh Seear tells yoo nub ter hert meh orcs.

[Dantagon Marescot]

Seer,

I have resigned from being a protector as you have asked. Your game is with Bailey now as she has your ork. I will play with you no longer as I have lost more than just the game.

-- Sir Dantagon Marescot

[Bailey Thunnigan]

I've written you some 'friendly' words of advice earlier this day, Seer, but you tossed them into the wind. So here we are:
Just as you wished, Dantagon resigned from his position as protector of town. Now you just have last one problem: And that's me.

Your orc can't be released by Dantagon, because it was me who jailed him. Since Dantagons resigning he has no jail key anymore - that means you have to deal with me now. I hate playing games, but it seems I can't come around this one, so here are my rules:

Release Harper, and I will consider releasing your orc. Harm Harper and I will become a spoilsport. That means I will not only harm the orc that is sitting in my cell, but I will catch the other two as well and make sure they are suffering the same fate. It's about you now to end this, Seer. Think about your next step well.

- Bailey Thunnigan

[A dark figure]

A parchment, strapped to a cord, dangles down a tree near Troll's Bane's jail.

Not only YOU, Dantagon, shall resign from the protectors of Troll's Bane, but every single knighthood member.
Any other organization, alliance, or any of the such that decides to publicly protect Troll's Bane, will receive the same fate as the Knighthood.
I want it to be publicly written on every board that has stated the Knighthood's alliance with Troll's Bane as protectors.
I will ponder about your offer, Bailey.
The Seer

[Bailey Thunnigan]

Ponder about that offer quickly, Seer. I might have less patience than even you have. The sooner you release Harper, the sooner I will release the orc.

- Bailey Thunnigan

[A dark figure]

*Click*, the door opened, hurriedly scurrying down the stairs, a hooded being unlocked yet another door.
The orc pressed off the floor, grunting slightly. He strayed out hurriedly, followed by the hooded person.

"Fanks", said the orc before disappearing in the forest.

The Seer approached a wall, pinning a parchment upon it. It read:

Oh but Bailey,
I fear you will not have to release my orc..
I spared you of this trouble. Thank you for
your concern, though.
With love and care,
The Seer

[Bailey Thunnigan]

Good. We're not playing with my rules. Then I'm not playing along your rules.
You just dismissed the opportunity to solve this peacefully, Seer. You may negotiate with the Knighthood. Between us there will be no more negotitations, just blades.

- Bailey Thunnigan

[A dark figure]

As he strolled out of town slowly, perhaps curious about the tremblings and grinding noises out of town, Gildon passed under the Southern Gate, when the large, concealed Hulk this time, jumped from the ladder's hole, banging a shield to his head.
A hand to his mouth, sword to his throat, he dragged him outside, into the forest's depth, pinning down to a tree.
A blade quickly drawn, the tip slowly approached the man's face, shifting from an eye to another.

After muttering a few words to each others, the man quivering with fear, the camouflaged orc approached the blade closer to the man's left eye.
Closer...
Closer...
Closer...

"GAH!! BY ZHAMBRA HELP ME!"

He shouted helplessly, as the orc mumbled a few words to him, a mischievous grin of satisfaction upon his lips. "Tell Baileh, Seear sends 'er salutations." The orc disappeared in the forest, Gildon, both hands to the hole dug in his head now, trying to stop the blood from pouring, but to no avail.

[Liles]

Contact me,
Seer,
For my work is less than noble.

[Skaalib Drurr]

Giving into this 'seer's' demands is more foolish then I would have expected of you Dantagon. Now he thinks his game works, he will repeat it as often as he likes. Ganon Harper is a big boy, he can look after himself, despite his tender years.
To give in is to concede defeat, it must not happen any longer.
Skaalib

[Dantagon Marescot]

I have already been defeated Skaalib. He has driven me to agression and caused me humiliation. Regardless he got his way. He has defeated the knighthood and has caused us much more pain and sorrow. I won't allow my men and women to be harmed. This has to end... I will tell them to remove themselves from the position of the protectors as the knighthood is not allowed to be guards within Trolls Bane.

You have won. Leave my people alone, let them go. Do not attack anyone left on your list.

-- Sir Dantagon Marescot

[Siegfried Schtauffen]

I have already been defeated Skaalib. He has driven me to agression and caused me humiliation. Regardless he got his way. He has defeated the knighthood and has caused us much more pain and sorrow. I won't allow my men and women to be harmed. This has to end... I will tell them to remove themselves from the position of the protectors as the knighthood is not allowed to be guards within Trolls Bane.

You have won. Leave my people alone, let them go. Do not attack anyone left on your list.

-- Sir Dantagon Marescot

These people are not yours, nor will they ever be yours. You foolishly claim them like sheep...

~Lexa

[Dantagon Marescot]

I am their knight, and it is my job to protect those under me. I have done a poor job of it.

-- Dan

[Bailey Thunnigan]

Bailey leaned heavily at the wall next to the shops door. The day was dawning already and yet she didn't feel tired. Weary maybe, but not tired. She wouldn't be able to sleep even if she tried, so she had stayed up all night, making rounds through town, guarding what had to be guard.

Yesterday her features had grown harder, than they were already before. She shook her head about herself. She had done mistakes today, and not only a few. How could she have been so carelessly? Because of her a man got harmed.

"An eye for an eye", Bailey thought as her gaze shifted up to the crimson red sky. She wasn't a woman of mercy. And as long as misery only occured to her, she was not a woman of regret either. 'Bully', 'Brute' - she has been called many things. And she had done many things to deserve being called it.
By all means, she would not be the one to break, or get intimidated. Emotions were the weakness of other people, but not hers. Bailey had experienced too much, had faced more dreadful foes than this seer. And it's like she had written him: ...their name vanished, and so will yours, no matter what path you're walking. Time heals all wounds, and the wounds you are slashing will heal as well.

[A dark figure]

The now well-known tall, broad-shouldered orc walks into the tavern. Glancing around, he sees no one. With heavy steps, he approaches Borgate, and grunts to him. He then hands him a piece of parchment, heading outside. Borgate shrugs, not paying attention to the parchment now resting on the counter. It reads;

I have released Jorokar.
He was still sleeping though, I did not want to wake him up. Whenever he wake up, he will find the exit himself.
I claim 300 silvers to release both Ayla and Harper. A group of orcs will come into town, armed and armored. They will not attack anyone, take the coins, and walk out as slowly as they walked in. They will not be followed, they will not be harmed, or both the prisoners, will die.
Once we have the coins, the second day, just to make sure they were not followed, both the prisoners will be released, unharmed.
Accept, or decline. I do not care who the silvers come from.

The Seer

[abcfantasy]

And for another time, he opened his eyes, but was quite dumbfounded as the light rays beamed in the cell, blinding him for minutes, after spending days in utter darkness. After regaining his sight, confusion surged in him by the view of the open hatch and the rope.

What's the meaning of this? Is it freedom? Or was it another trick?

The weak man hesitated, unsure on what to do as his thoughts directed towards deception. Nevertheless, it was useless staying in there, and curiosity had always won over him. He grimaced as he stood up, his rigid hands grasping against the damp wall for support. He fronted the rope, stiffly bending his neck back looking up at the way to liberty, at least what he hoped for it was.

He took a deep breath then grappled the rope as tightly as possible, but his frailty prevailed at the attempt of climbing. He may have crambled half way at most, but then tumbling down on the ground, moaning in pain. His hands weren't as strong as they usually were, and the height to the top seemed much more longer that it actually was.

An angered growl followed by a hopeless sigh, Jorokar started to give up on his escape. He leaned against the wall, sliding down do the soggy earth. His thoughts wondered off to the members of the knighthood. How would Dantagon have reacted to this? How would Gildon, his trainer, be feeling about this? But most of all, how had Ayla been in the last days?

Now the hope and the longing to see her, and all others, flourished in him, strengthened him. He sat up again, he grasped the rope determinedly and escaladed up to the top, successfully, though still being arduous and painful. He exhaled deeply then toddled towards the city walls in the vicinity, his body fragile and his limbs aching with each step.

[Skaalib Drurr]

You still have a chance to haul yourself from this pitiful little mess. Release both of them. And it is my wish to join the town guard.
Skaalib