It was early afternoon on the island of Sander’s Reach, the tall grass breaching through the rough sandy terrain wafting in the sea breeze as it careened over the rocky shore. Barely upon the horizon from the view of the castle, a ruined guard tower destroyed by time and a lack of maintenance. Typically, three stories tall much of the tower was left scattered across the ground the rubble strewn about the sand knolls. What remained was less than a crumbled husk of a sandstone tower. White smoke billowed through what was left of the second floor into the sky, noticeable for miles around. What few peaks crested above the remnants of the first floor were lined with arrow slits, a defensive measure in case of an invading force from the eastern seas.
Inside the remnants of the tower, an old wooden chair had tipped over near the remnants of a smouldering fire. The logs charred, emitting an eerie red glow beneath the white smoke that drifted into the sky. A rancid odor reminiscent of rancid meat or decaying flesh filled the air wafting from a poorly concealed heap of dung in the southern corner of the room. A pile of wood lay haphazardly against the northwestern wall - quite obviously the remains of stockades hacked apart and used to heat the small room in the chilly nighttime air. A quick glance around the room, it would not be difficult to notice a small crate filled with flasks both empty and full recognizably labeled as “oil” in the common dialect. Upon further quick inspection engravings could be seen, highlighted by a ray of sun breaking through the tattered remnants of the wooded ceiling. The written words were noticeably of a foreign tongue, their letters thing and elegant with strong flourishes at the ends. The letters were engraved above opening that quite obviously lead to a descending staircase. From within the darkness came an eerie cackling laughter, a squealing high pitched cacophony carrying up the stairwell on the northeast wall.
He had heard it from Harrold somes day before, listening from a front porch table just outside the Crow’s Nest. The King had placed a bounty on some rabble rousers towards the northern expanse of the island. But he had heard the rumors. The golden crown had been replaced by thorns that were slowly bleeding the settlement dry. Rumors as they were he was inclined to agree seeing how the island community had changed over the years. However, he was not foolhardy enough to simply believe the random twaddle speak of the locals.
Jaegar had prowled the area surrounding the tower the night before. Skulking from outcroppings of fallen rubble for most of the evening hours in an attempt to scope out the inhabitants before he would find the means to terminate their existence. He had never gotten close enough to lay eyes upon those on the inside but the smoke that poured from the top of the ruined tower that night was known for miles around as the scent of burning wood filled the night time air.
By the time he had awoken in the morning, nestled in a cozy cave created by a few pieces of the crumbling tower that had fallen together in a collection. The sun was almost directly above the island when he had finished patrolling the perimeter only to find that the fire had since burned out, billowing white in the sky. Carefully, he crept upon a lower lying slanted boulder. Peering over its edge he came to find two individuals collected in a small group near the outskirts of a small clearing near the doorway. The stood there in what seemed to be a nonthreatening manner, maybe they had already assessed the situation to be just that. Not a threat, at this particular point in time. However, he would be weary in his approach - doing so with a hand on his sword.
“Greetings strangers,” Jaegar said as he approached from the rear, “I suppose you too are here to collect the King’s ransom?”
Inside the remnants of the tower, an old wooden chair had tipped over near the remnants of a smouldering fire. The logs charred, emitting an eerie red glow beneath the white smoke that drifted into the sky. A rancid odor reminiscent of rancid meat or decaying flesh filled the air wafting from a poorly concealed heap of dung in the southern corner of the room. A pile of wood lay haphazardly against the northwestern wall - quite obviously the remains of stockades hacked apart and used to heat the small room in the chilly nighttime air. A quick glance around the room, it would not be difficult to notice a small crate filled with flasks both empty and full recognizably labeled as “oil” in the common dialect. Upon further quick inspection engravings could be seen, highlighted by a ray of sun breaking through the tattered remnants of the wooded ceiling. The written words were noticeably of a foreign tongue, their letters thing and elegant with strong flourishes at the ends. The letters were engraved above opening that quite obviously lead to a descending staircase. From within the darkness came an eerie cackling laughter, a squealing high pitched cacophony carrying up the stairwell on the northeast wall.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
He had heard it from Harrold somes day before, listening from a front porch table just outside the Crow’s Nest. The King had placed a bounty on some rabble rousers towards the northern expanse of the island. But he had heard the rumors. The golden crown had been replaced by thorns that were slowly bleeding the settlement dry. Rumors as they were he was inclined to agree seeing how the island community had changed over the years. However, he was not foolhardy enough to simply believe the random twaddle speak of the locals.
Jaegar had prowled the area surrounding the tower the night before. Skulking from outcroppings of fallen rubble for most of the evening hours in an attempt to scope out the inhabitants before he would find the means to terminate their existence. He had never gotten close enough to lay eyes upon those on the inside but the smoke that poured from the top of the ruined tower that night was known for miles around as the scent of burning wood filled the night time air.
By the time he had awoken in the morning, nestled in a cozy cave created by a few pieces of the crumbling tower that had fallen together in a collection. The sun was almost directly above the island when he had finished patrolling the perimeter only to find that the fire had since burned out, billowing white in the sky. Carefully, he crept upon a lower lying slanted boulder. Peering over its edge he came to find two individuals collected in a small group near the outskirts of a small clearing near the doorway. The stood there in what seemed to be a nonthreatening manner, maybe they had already assessed the situation to be just that. Not a threat, at this particular point in time. However, he would be weary in his approach - doing so with a hand on his sword.
“Greetings strangers,” Jaegar said as he approached from the rear, “I suppose you too are here to collect the King’s ransom?”
