(Nice touch )

 

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(Bumbling? Oooooooh Dem's fightin' words Argyule. )


Secaran quickly grew tired of waiting. He decided that approachin Arguyle might be prudent. He left his perch by the window, and made his way to one of the safehouses that Ayslyn maintained in the city. He choose his dress carefully, for an elf spotted wandering the streets of Camelot would find ill welcome in these times.


*****


The monk presented himself at the gates to the Red Lions guildhall. "I seek Lord General Arguyle on a matter of direst import."

 

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She strode through the streets, her pace quick, a look on her face such that most avoided her and the few that half started shouts of good morning let them trail away.


Occasionally fear flickered in her ice cold eyes and small flames burst through clenched fingers. Rumours were rife around Camelot about a cleric defected to hibernia, talks of killings of people thought to sympathize with the celts and poison in all the water supplies in the city.


No more she thought to herself. Would there never be peace for those who just want to be left alone. She strode quickly through the gates, her robes flapping in the wind.

The Guards looked at the monk before them and eyed him suspiciously. It seemed that as of late everyone was under suspicion.


Finally, one of the guards nodded and replied.


"Wait here. I shall inform the Steward of your request."


The Guard turned and disappeared into the guildhall. The Monk stood outside under the watchful eye of a half-dozen armsmen.

he must choose a side? but he didn't agree with either one... Kilaitz sighed and grabbed a few of the younger lions from the training ground, told them of what had happened and gave them direct orders to be standing at every corner in the hallway and for three to be patroling the cellar, he too fealt a deap loss for the poisoned ale.


"well caer, i think you done it this time, even if arguyle orders mac not to touch you he won't listen." kilaitz though to himself


pulling velaron to the side he said to him quietly, "make contact with carrington, see if you can find him, i want an opinion unblinded by rage" velaron nodded and went to find the ex-lion who had caused so much trouble.

/bump

The monk smiled benevolently on the departing guardsman. "Thank you my son," he said in a crisp avalonian accent. He stood, calmly in the yard, reading from an ancient and worn bible.

 

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Kyle approached the monk at the entrance to the Hall of the Lion closely as he listened to the conversation below. The man looked familiar. Like a long lost friend. Bryndal? Could it be?


He turned to meet the guard as he was entering the room.


"es, I know. Let's go greet this visitor." said Kyle.


As the door opened he looked at the man and greeted him formally.


"Hail and well met good Friar. What news from the Avalonian Court? Camelot is a fair jaunt for an Avalonian to make. Even for a stout Friar as yourself."

All was still and quiet now, the brief skirmish over. The scout and assassin regarded the two Hibernians, laying not far from each other, felled by bow and blade. The scout had spotted the Celt, had him nearly dead afore she could even reach him; and with a sigh, she wondered if the scout really needed her sometimes.


They saluted their foes, a sign of respect. And beneath the pearl bright moon, casting light where there should be only darkness, the pair slipped into the shadowed world of stealth.


By a willow near the river, the assassin placed a hand on the scout's shoulder, halting him, and leaned in to whisper.


"Tis me honor to be by ye side, scout." She felt his hand rest briefly atop hers as she spoke. "The general will be pleased."


Kheslyn

Assassin, Order of the Red Lions

Ishish entered the Lions compound after having been out trying to reign in her anger. She was, of course, unsucessfull.


There were guards everywhere. Even the recruits were armed and standing watch. Marching across the compound she heard an unholy scream come from the storerooms.


"NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!" the voice screamed.


Drawing her sword she sprinted into the storeroom expecting to find someone being tortured. What she saw was most unexpected. Macivor was sitting on the floor his arms wrapped around a small keg of stout. The man looked close to tears.


"What goes on here? Why are you holding that cask?" Ishish asked the mercenary.


Macivor explained what had happened in an impassioned voice, vowing to skin Carrington alive for such alcohol treachery.


Ishish was stunned. Poison? How could the man she once fought side by side with have done such a wicked, cowardly thing.


"Tis cowardice at its lowest level. War I can understand, swords and armor, spells and arrows, but poisoning food? Townsfolk drink from this well!"


Anger began welling up inside of her. Although it was always there, just under the surface. She must speak to the Lord High General.


Pulling her wineskin from her side she tossed it to Macivor.


"Its arconian red. Finest red around. Save me some for when I come back. We will drink to the loss of drink."


With that Ishish turned and went to find The General.