/back to the top...

 

-----signature-----

“Khallie!!!”


The very rafters above the cleric trembled and groaned beneath the weight of the Lord High General’s bellows. She looked with alarm toward the ceiling, and wondered if the structure would hold, and not collapse down upon her head. Scraping of wood on wood and violent thumps of furniture abused, a shattering of glass, muffled street-raw curses...all coming from the office above the Guild’s main hall she’d just entered.


“What in the heavens,” she muttered, glancing at her companion. Her friend, the assassin Orthos, stood beside her holding parcels of poisons, counter to hers of medicinal worth, recent purchases of their weekly restocking errands about the city.


A quirk of his left brow and subtle tilt of his head, and he said, “Thee best go methinks.”


“Now, aye,” she sent over her shoulder, making haste for the stairwell. Twas no time to seek her scout husband. As she heard her name thundered a second time, her insides twisted, skin turning cold as winter frost. She needed no empathic abilities to realize the truth.


Something was terribly wrong.


Khallie MacLachlan

Season 46 Cleric

Order of the Red Lions

Arguyle watched as Khallie came down the stairs of the cellar. He waved her to him.


"Khallie, it seems that the traitor has sent assassins to poison our water and ale. I need you to bless and purify our entire storeroom full of drink and food. As a matter of fact, the animal will probably try over and over again until everyone one of us is dead so plan on making this an everyday thing. Do it multiple times per day. We have to keep our stores clean of the beasts vile touch." said the Highlander.


As he walked up the stairs he turned back to Kilaitz.


"Kilaitz, ensure that the guard is tripled throughout the Hall and set wards on the storerooms."


Then walking from the cellar the Paladin pledged anew that Carrington Whitethorne would rue the day he betrayed the Order.

Carrington sat down with a quill and a parchment. He began to matter-of-factly write.


---------------------------------------------


Arguyle MacFadden,


I send this as a plea for us to end this guildwar. It is ridiculous for the both of us to waste lives on such a pointless squabble between ourselves. You should be recieving my first care package...the poison in the water, aye?


It isn't poison. It's an imitation. That was your warning. I want it to end. You send assassins after me...I send assassins after you...you attempt to turn my allies against me, I poison your water...it will only go on and on...esculating until the moment when we're either all dead, or one of us is gone. And what satisifaction would that be? What REALLY would be the point in that?


Please, think it over.


Signed,

Warden Carrington Whitethorne


---------------------------------------------


Quickly he rolled up the scroll and sealed it with the guild seal. He passed it to a waiting ranger, and the message was on it's way.

 

-----signature-----

Macivor was enjoying a pint of oatmeal stout in Ye Mug when a messanger, with flushed face and wide eyes betraying an intense fear, bursted into the tavern.


"I seek the mercenary Macivor," he announced in a quivering voice reminiscent of one who had just reached the age of puberty.


"Christ, what do I have tae do tae enjoy a drink in peace?" Mac muttered to himself as he motioned the messenger over to his table.


The messenger stumbled over to where Mac was seated, knocking over two unoccupied stools in te process.


"Sir, I bring grave news from the Hall of the Red Lions" the messanger said, panting as though out of breath all the while.


"It seems a Hibernian assassin has poisoned the water supply!" He flinched as he reported this, as though he feared the mercenary would strike him for bearing such grim tidings.


"Dinnae care. Dinnae care tae drink water much," was all Mac had to offer on the subject.


The messenger took two steps back from Mac, bumping into one of the patrons standing at the bar and eliciting a dirty look from the barkeep. The young man felt it wise to get a good distance between himself and the sellsword before delivering his last bit of news.


"Er, there's one more thing... it seems that the assassin managed to taint some of the ale in the storehouse...."


Mac stared at the messenger for a good 15 seconds, eyes wide with disbelief, as if trying to make sense of what he just heard. Then with a roar, he upended the table where he was seated and stormed out of the tavern.


*****


A tear welled up in Mac's right eye as he surveyed the damage done to the libations stored in the cellar of the Hall of the Lions. What kind of person would stoop so low as to blight a perfectly good keg of ale? And this was not cheap stuff either, Mac himself had imported this keg from the far off kingdom of Bavaria.


"I didnae want tae make this personal Carrington, but ye have left me nae choice!"


Then walking from the cellar the mercenary pledged anew that Carrington Whitethorne would rue the day he betrayed his ale.

OOC: Too damn funny Mac!

(No kidding...I about fell out of my chair. <laughs> I think it was because of the MacGuyver comment I made in another thread...<snickers>

 

-----signature-----

As Arguyle prepared a bounty poster for Carrington Whitethorne he heard a knock on the door.


"Come!" called out the Highlander.


In walked a slender Saracen that Arguyle had not seen in a long time. He carriend a bow in one hand and a letter in the other.


"What is it Scout Oded?" asked the Paladin.


"M'Lord, I was hunting in Forest Sauvage when I spied a lone elf. A ranger. He was moving along the shoreline of the lake there in the forest. Right across from the island. You know the place? Anyway, seeing the enemy I drew my bow and let fly an arrow from behind and above the man. My arrow flew true and the elf toppled to the ground. In doing so, he lost his grip on this." said the Scout offering the letter to the Paladin.


"It fell into the water. When I retrieved it I opened it and found that it was addressed to you. Unfortunately the ink was smeared by the water and much of it is unreadable. I wanted to bring it to you in case you were able to make heads or tails of it." continued the Scout.


"Thank you Oded. You are a good man." said the Paladin.


Taking the letter Arguyle opened it and read.


------------------------------------


Arguyle <blurred ink>,


I send <blurred ink>. <Blurred ink>. You should <blurred ink> first care package...<blurred ink> poison <blurred ink> water <blurred ink>


It <blurred ink> poison. <blurred ink> warning. I want <blurred ink> poison your water...<blurred ink> until <blurred ink> dead <blurred ink>


<blurred ink>


Signed,

<blurred ink> Carrington Whitethorn<blurred ink>


-----------------------------------------


Arguyle wadded up the paper. His ire increasing with every word he read.


"So you want us dead? We shall see who ends up dead Carrington Whitethorne!!" growled Arguyle.

"What do you mean it got wet?!"


Carrington seethed and shoved the ranger out of the way.


"ou realize that the message might not get across now?"


"I'm sorry Carrington...it was unavoidable."


"Unavoidable?!?" Carrington fumed and threw his club to the ground.


He took a deep breath and sighed.


"ou're right. It isn't your fault. Did he send a reply?"


"No sir."


"Well then...we'll just have to wait. Maybe it wasn't damaged."

 

-----signature-----

OOC: BTW you like the way I blurred out the 'E' on the end of Whitethorn?