Homefront: A Tirion Plot Side Story

[Iorran (Tirion)]

This story takes place during Tirion's journeys outside Mullingard. The main character is Cray, Tirion's best friend, and tells of what's going on in the city while Tirion is out building an army to free it.

Character Mugs:

Cray -

Erie -

Antaine -

Duneval -

Halford - COMING SOON

Jassra - COMING SOON

Kelsseth - COMING SOON

Mullingard Map:

COMING SOON


The midday sun beamed down upon the small Norric city of Mullingard in the northern plains of Sacae. A fierce and chilling wind blew in from the Ilian mountains. These windy days were common in Mullingard. The citizens had built high walls to not only defend against their enemy city of Faerderick, but to also lessen the damage that the winds imparted upon the thatched buildings inside them.

It was an odd time for the Norric. A time of peace with the Gaul of Faerderick. Recent happenings in the world called for a truce, believing the two rival people were better off working together to help the rest of Elibe. However, this truce was thin. A single misstep by either society could ignite the fires of war once again.

Such a misstep was what exactly what Halford was hoping for.

The imposing man walked briskly through the halls of the council building near the center of the city. It's perch atop a large hill, so large one would call it a small mountain, gave the man ample view of the buildings below. A devious grin was painted on his visage as he went over how he would make the city his. "Only a matter of time.", he kept saying to himself every day. He had succeeded in ridding himself of that insufferable Aez, the only council member who ever opposed him. And, to top it off, he had recently gotten rid of Aez's foolish son Tirion not even a full tenday ago. By the time the man came back, if he survived, he would have the city under his boot. Halford reveled in the possibility of Aez's son confronting him. He imagined Tirion's mind breaking upon sight of Mulingard under his control and his lovely beloved by Halford's side.

Halford's pace slowed as he neared the meeting chamber in the center of the building. His blood red cape billowed as a gust of air rushed in through an open window and he pushed the large ornamented doors into the round room. A table in the center, resembling a horseshoe, played host to a dozen old men. The council of elders, the governing body of Mullingard, sat at the table discussing matters involving the city. A few of the weathered old men noticed Halford enter, others continued their discussion. Halford ran a had through his hair, slicking it backwards into his desired hair style, and walked to the opening in the table. The swordsman threw up his large hands and slammed them down on the wood, causing a loud banging sound to echo through the hall. All the members of the council now looked at him. Halford smiled at the fact that he had their attention.

"Wise councilmen! I who directs tha city's military might present meself before ye." Halford began in a booming voice tempered from shouting orders at soldiers, "I've a request o' tha council."

One councilman sighed as he stood. His long white hair and beard suggested ageless wisdom in the man.

"What is it, Halford? Mind ye, with tha war bein' postponed yer words mean far less in these halls."

Halford grimaced at the man, doing his best not to simply lash out at the old man and leave him headless on the floor. He took a breath to calm himself and answered.

"That is precisely what I am here fer. Me scouts 'ave found a Gaul military camp not even an evenin's journey away from tha city." Halford lied, hoping to get clearance to march so he could attack a real Gaul encampment that was in Gaul territory.

"An' what do ye want us ta do about it? We're in peacetime! They can 'ave a camp there if they want."

Halford's patience continued to shrink. As did his tolerance of this man. He began to speak, but was interripted by another councilman.

"I agree wit' Head Councilman Duneval. Hopefully, leaving this action be can help us forge a better relationship with Faerderick. This whole war has been goin on fer too long. I say we use this truce ta end it once an' fer all." Halford's fists clenched as every councilman stood in approval of the man. He glanced at one of the door guards who promptly left. A few moments passed as discussion of peace broke out in the chamber. Halford couldn't believe it. What had gotten into these old wastes of flesh? They normally went along with whatever he said! No matter. His insurance was on it's way.

A few more moments passed and the doors burst open, soldiers filing in flying banners different from the normal Mullingard standard. Halford pointed at the man who spoke out in favor of peace.

"That's 'im! Restrain the man!" Two soldiers ran over and pulled the man near Halford. Duneval stood once more, slamming the table in shock.

"What is tha meanin' o' this?!" he shouted in his old, but still very powerful voice. Halford simply grinned at he old man and drew his sword.

"This, old man, is an example." with a quick swipe of Halford's blade, the retrained man's head was severed from his body. The soldiers dropped the now departed man's body on the floor, blood spewing from it's neck, and retrieved the head. They took the grisly trophy and presented it to Halford. The general grasped the head by it's long graying hair and thrust it in front of the rest of the council.

"Anyone else wanna end tha war?!" the council stepped back in fear save fore Duneval who scowled at Halford in disgust.

"I'm tha ruler o' Mullingard now. Ye old has beens are all now my prisoners!" Halford motioned for his soldiers to restrain the councilmen, "Take 'em to tha keep. Give 'em a nice room in tha dungeon."

Duneval scowled intensely as he was dragged off. Halford chuckled to himself. Now was his time. How he could finally set his plans into motion.

[Iorran (Tirion)]

The sun shone through the mountains overlooking Mullingard, casting a long shadow on the city. This odd phenomenon caused the city to enter night (or at least what looked like night) much faster than most. It was about the time when most of the Norric population headed to one of the seemingly countless number of bars in the city.

One particular bar was built near the center of the city, at the foot of the Council's hill. That bar was none other than the Dancing Blade, a very popular establishment that has seen even more patronage since rumor went around that the city's envoy to the rest of Sacae, Tirion Aonghal, spent his last night before leaving inexplicably, dodging his big ceremony. This bar's generous size allowed for a stage for musical acts along with it's very large bar manned by three barkeeps and rows of tables. Sitting on of the of the stools at this bar, facing the empty stage, a tall and well-toned man leaned against the bar top. His black hair was tied back in a ponytail and his beard was formed of two large mutton chops connected by a mustache that sat upon his lip, currently contorted in a frown. The man's hand grasped a bottle of fine brandy, a bottle he had been eyeing for some time from the shelves behind the bar and finally felt morose enough to purchase. A heavy sigh left the man's lips as his stare rose towards the intricately carved rafters.

"Somethin' botherin' ye, Cray?" a voice rang out from behind him. Cray wheeled around to face the barkeep who addressed him. He placed the bottle down on the bar and sunk his chin, the only furless part of his face, into his palm.

"Aye. Tha whole thing with Tirion bothers me. T'aint like him ta just leave without tellin' me. It's been almost a tenday an' no word of him." he took a swig of the brandy after finishing his explanation. Following his drink came another heavy sigh.

"Well maybe he had some trouble sayin' goodbye. I know I'd have trouble leavin' me friends and family fer who knows how long."

"Nay. I know Tirion. He ain't like that." Cray spun around to look at the stage again, "He'd at least talk ta me. Definitely Erie."

The conversation ended there as the bar began to get busy. Cray spent the rest of the night staring intensely at the stage, lost in his thoughts. By the end of the night, half of the brandy bottle had been emptied, a very odd case for Cray as he tended to drink quite a bit in his stays at the Dancing Blade. Cray payed a farewell to the bar staff as he left the establishment early. He took a stroll around the city, rolling his thoughts on the situation around his head all the while. Finally, he came to a conclusion.

"Halford! That bastard son of a donkey!" Cray, having come to an epiphany in his thoughts, immediately bolted to the house of his and Tirion's friend Erie.

[Farlus]

"So, Comman- I-I mean King Halford. What do ye plan ta do from here?"

A slightly intimidated officer asked his new king. The mountain of meat in front of him leaned back in a chair at the head of the council table, stroking his fire red hair. The chair he sat in once belonged to Duneval, high councilman of Mullingard. It used to be the coveted seat of the top governing force behind the entire city. Now that Duneval was safely locked away in underground prison of Aedirn, it was nothing more than a hunk of wood with a comfortable cushion to Halford. Like any other chair.

"What else?" the new self-appointed King of the Norric smirked, "We have a bit o' fun. Tell tha soldiers ta do what they want in town. They earned it. Free drinks, free women, I'm nothin' if not benevolent ta me loyal subjects."

Before the officer could respond, however, screams and sounds of awe rose from the city below. The suddenly curious man went to peer out a window of the council building to see panic in the streets. Then came a sudden wind that nearly blew him back into the center of the room.

"Ah..." Halford said as the building uddenly shook as if being assaulted by a giant hand, "They're here. Took 'em long enough."

The officer looked in horror as a gigantic scaly tail whipped in front of the window and then slowly began to shrink. A sound of crunching bones and magical wind emanated from outside. Two guards burt into the room.

"Sire! Dra-" one of the guards began, but was cut off by the raise of Halford's gauntlet-clad hand.

"I know. Let 'em through." The guards stood in confusion, but followed his orders with a salute. Little time passed before the doors opened again. This time, it was a small hooded figure and a large one in simple clothing and a long brown cloak. Both had glowing amber eyes and both had reptilian wings protruding from their shoulder blades. The smaller one's being a brilliant blue and the other's a deep green. The officer doubled back and fell onto his rear end in shock.

"By Graal himself!" the stunned man uttered as the two stepped to Halford in silence. Halford stood and stretched his arms in welcome.

"Welcome, friends! Welcome ta me kingdom!" came Halford's booming voice. The hooded figure shifted it's head to look at Halford with it's magically glowing eyes. The hood lifted slightly to reveal the fair features of an attractive woman. She opened her mouth to speak.

"It is not your kingdom until you gain the reverence of your subjects, young Halford." the manakete's voice rang through the hall, young in pitch, but wise beyond comprehension in tone. The woman's wings twitched a bit as she continued, "I have come here to aid you in this. As the master wills."

Halford frowned slightly. Who was this bitch to be undermining him? However, she was a higher ranking servant of the master than he and would easily be able to oust his life in but a second. The new king chose his words carefully.

"O' course. I just... I'm still a bit excited over me victory here. Please forgive me." Halford reluctantly spoke. He hated having to suck up to such a woman, but it was this or his life.

"Ah, yes. Humans do get so riled up over small things like that. After all, all you accomplished was sending a few feeble old men to a dungeon. But I suppose you have your right to celebrate it." Halford shook as he held back from lunging at the dragon after her comment, "Where are our lodgings? It was a tiring flight from Caledonia and I wish to rest."

Halford took a deep breath and walked towards the doors to the room.

"Follow me. Yer rooms are this way." Halford opened the doors and the manaketes followed him.

[Iorran (Tirion)]

Cray ran along the streets with purpose. Turning the corner tot he main road in town, he could think of nothing but how dastardly Halford was and that he needed to alert Erie. Her unfortunate predicament with the commander of the Mullingard armed forces could actually turn out to be to their advantage, he figured. She was forced to be around him as she was recently appointed his top military advisor, but they could use it to spy on the bastard.

As he turned another corner, though, the wind picked up and hit Cray like an invisible wall. The spearman was knocked to the ground. His head was reeling from the hit, but he got a good view of the source of the wind. As if out of legend, two gigantic scaly beasts soared to the council building. Their wing beats sent gusts of wind that nearly blew off the thatched roofs of the buildings that lined the city streets. The monsters landed, digging their claws into the council building's stone walls, and then suddenly shrunk and disappeared. Cray took a second to wonder if what he just saw was real, but the other Mullingard citizens gathered around in a panic. They yelled and gasped in awe of the sight.

"Dragons. By... by Graal himself! Dragons!" Cray exclaimed as he felt a pair of hands grip his under arms and pull him up. One felt manly and the other feminine. The spearman looked over his shoulders to find both Erie and Antaine, another friend of his and Tirion's, to either side of him. Cray quickly dusted himself off and turned to face his friends.

"Did ye see that?! Please tell me ye saw that!" Cray blurted, slightly panicked.

"Aye. T'was a mighty incredible sight, aye?" the ginger haired Antaine responded. Antaine was a siege commander for the Mullingard armed forces. He, Cray, and Tirion became friends in the days before Tirion retired to be a politician. It really helped the swordsman to be friends with Antaine when the two applied to be junior councilmen. He happened to be the son of the high councilman.

"I thought dragons were myth. It's counfusin'." Erie inserted. Her fair features and long brown hair were highly coveted around Mullingard. However, Erie wasn't the dainty demure flower men wanted her to be. One had to be able to beat her in fighting prowess as and be a gentleman to earn her affection. To that day, only one man had done so.

"What's worse, Antaine hasn't seen his da fer hours. They were supposed ta meet fer dinner an' discuss today's meetin'." Erie shifted her weight uncomfortably to one side. Cray could tell she was bothered by something.

"Aye. I'm worried. Me heart's racin' and it ain't ta tha sight o' Erie, here." Erie sighed, half scoffing at Antaine's pass. He'd been chasing her down since he met her. Antaine was quite the player when it came to women and it stood that Erie was the only woman he had not yet been able to court. Erie walked to stand next to Cray instead, not willign to put up with Antaine in a situation like this.

"Well maybe we should pay a visit ta the council? Go see Duneval and if he's not there, just ask where he went."

Erie and Antaine agreed and the three headed to the center of town.

[Farlus]

"This is bound to be a nightmare, Kelsseth. That wretched human insists we stay inside until he needs us. I see no chance to even stretch my wings unless that buffoon says so!"

The she-dragon complained, laying across a cushion. The two dragons that had arrived earlier that day were assigned a spacious room to stay in. A roaring fireplace kept their cold blood warm and shelves were lined with books, but none that interested her. However, her counterpart, Kelsseth, was quite involved in them. His gigantic frame lumbered about the room, pouring through the collection.

"Did you not hear what I was saying? Kelsseth? I am talking!"

The large manakete looked up from the tome he was reading to acknowledge his fellow dragon. To say the two were partners would be false. She outranked him in their master's army, but he was assigned to accompany her on the mission for protection and insurance.

"I apologize, Jassra. I just. There is so much to learn, here! Did you know that these people make a pilgrimage up the mountains to a shine once they reach adulthood? It is quite fasci-" Kelsseth was cut off by a tendril so dark it sucked the light from around it closing his book and then slapping him across the face. He looked at Jassra, rubbing his cheek, to see her twirling her fingers, controlling the tendril. She stopped her spell and the tendril dissipated.

"Listen to yourself! There is nothing fascinating about these humans! Pilgrimages to a shrine." Jassra scoffed at the thought, "Unless it is a shrine to our glorious master, there is no reason to visit it."

Kelsseth placed the book back in it's resting place, a sorrowful look upon his otherwise strong face. Why did he join the master, anyway? Perhaps it was his own vulnerability. He couldn't live out in the world with the humans; he knew no one would accept him. But he often wondered what it would be like if he only tried. Kelsseth almost reached for another book, but remembered the pain still on his cheek and backed away from the shelves.

Kelsseth then perked up as the sound of armor plates and weapons passed by their door. He rushed to get a better look, opening the door just a crack.

"Kelsseth, you dolt. Came Jassra's pallid tone, "Every time I see you covet the humans' primitive ways of protection, the more I feel that you would have been better off born as one of them. Then I would be able to kill you with no repercussions." Jassra peered at the axe slung to Kelsseth's belt and laughed, "In fact, if not for your wings, I would have mistaken you for one of them!"

"What is wrong with enjoying a culture unlike your own? I apologize for not following the crowd by learning of elder magic, but that subject just does not suit me. You have your interests and I have mine." The large manakete sat down in a chair and entertained the thought of being born human. His smaller, fairer counterpart shifted on her cushion and smirked.

"Yes, but I think we both know who has better taste."

[Iorran (Tirion)]

The sun was dipping behind the mountains, quickly shifting day into night, as Cray and company reached the walls to the center district of Mullingard. Above the walls crafted of stone and wood, one could see the gigantic hill, mostly natural, but partially made of motte, that served as the platform for the council building. Antaine waved at his two companions to let him bay and he approached the two guards standing at the northern gate.

"Good evenin', men! Me an' me friends here need inside ta se me da."

The guards stood silently, an odd behavior for the usually rowdy guard staff.

"Well? Are ye gonna open tha gate?"

Again, not a single twitch from the armor-clad guards. Antaine grew frustrated and stomped back to his friends.

"T'ain't a peep from 'em." he reported, an air of annoyance in his tone. Erie crossed her arms in frustration.

"Lemme try." the fair woman put on a fake act of womanly demure as she strode to the guards.

"Excuse me, guards, but if'n ye wouldn't mind, me an' me friends need ta see tha High Councilman. I would also like ta get in ta see yer boss, if'n ye don' mind." Erie had recently had the unfortunate luck of being appointed one of Halford's personal advisors. She knew it was because the man fancied her, but she really didn't want to upset a man like him. It also helped that he threatened to kill her mother, the only family she had left, if she didn't accept the offer.

The guard to the left of Erie shuffled a moment. Apparently, the mention of Halford, even if just under the moniker of "yer boss", caused this man to squirm. She eyed him for a moment and found that it wasn't Halford who had him squirming. The man had been taking glances at her every so often. Erie dropped her act immediately.

"Okay, now that's enough. I won' 'ave ye undressin' me wit' yer eyes, ye two coin o' dozen lance jockey!" Erie angrily stepped towards the gate to force it open only to be launched into the air by the shafts of the guards' halberds. She landed a few feet away and watched dizzily as they methodically went back to attention.

"That's odd..." Cray said to himself as he rushed to help Erie up. The Mullingard military was certainly formidable, but he'd never seen simple guards move like that. He should know, he was once stationed at that very same gate years ago.

"That hurt, ye limp pri-" Cray cut Erie off as she was cursing at the guards.

"Shhh! We're not gonna get 'round these guys without makin' a scene. Somethin's up." Erie nodded and so did Antaine. The three walked away to talk.

"So... do ye remember district guards ever movin' like that? 'Cause I don't" Cray addressed his friends, "It's likely we'll not be gettin' in tonight unless we sneak in."

"Well how do ye propose we do that?" Antaine shot, a little irritated by their failed initial attempt. Being a former guard of that wall, Cray knew it's defenses. It was a tightly secured wall with guards patrolling the top and bottoms of it in shifts. Simply climbing the wall wouldn't work. However, he knew the one place that wasn't so well defended.

"Tha Draig."

"Tha river?" Erie responded, confused.

"Aye. The wall has a grate o' iron bars where tha river runs through it. Tha bars are wide enough ta get through if'n we're not wearin' much." Antaine smiled at the mention of not wearing much clothing and looked at Erie. Which resulted in a forceful slap across the face.

"Grow up, Antaine! It'll only be fer a little while until we can get some clothes inside tha walls. Perhaps off a few guards. Plus, we don' wanna be walkin' 'round in wet clothes."

Erie and Antaine nodded and the three headed to the river.

[Iorran (Tirion)]

Dull screams echoed off the cold stone walls of the prison of Aedirn. Droplets of water leaking in from the Draig river directly above made rhythmic noises, almost percussive in nature. A small group of armed soldiers toting halberds and banners of deep red with the gold insignia of a crowned helm sitting atop the blade of a massive claymore plodded heavily along the prison cells. At the head of the group was Halford, now adorned in a new suit of armor colored jet black trimmed in gold. His sneer pierced the wills of even the most unruly prisoner as they marched through the halls.

The group of guards and their new king eventually came up to a steel door with a barred window. The sound of a whip cracking to a drum beat and the screams of a tired old man rang out through the window. Halford signaled for his men to wait outside and entered the room, door hinges creaking in protest. The man torturing the prisoner in question took one look at his liege and knelt, as did the drummer. The old man, chained to a wooden rafter above and stripped to only a pair of pants, sighed in relief as the lashing stopped and hung limp, knees touching the stone floor. The armored tyrant stepped to the prisoner and knelt, grabbing his chin and pulling the man's face to meet his. The aged man's face went from thankful to furious upon seeing who it was that stopped his pain.

"Tha wise Duneval. Welcome ta me prison! Quite tha place, aye?"

Duneval did not answer, but instead spat in Halford's smirk-clad face. The former-general-now-self-appointed-king stood up and wiped away the phlegm in disgust.

"So that's how ye treat yer king!"

Duneval laughed, enduring the immense pain in his chest and back.

"Yer no king... yer just a spoiled brat with a... agh!... blade. I'm sure if ye gave a child a weapon he'd get what he wanted, too." the ex chairman retorted, wincing from the pain that simply speaking was causing him. He stared at the stone under him and his long white hair stained with blood and sweat hung low, touching the damp floor. Halford was outraged by his comment, but also the fact that he kept his head turned away from him.

"Insolent... look at me when ye talk!" Halford shouted. Duneval simply lay silent, smiling under his mane at the man's pettiness.

"I said look at me!" the self crowned king yanked Duneval to his feet and held his wrinkled face in front of his enraged visage, "Ye'll look at yer liege when ye speak to 'im!"

Duneval smirked while still being held in Halford's gauntlet clad hand.

"Ye keep callin' yerself king. It's funny. I doubt anyone 'sides yer pet soldiers will ever follow ye. Yer rule will be short and painful, boyo."

Halford grew even more furious at Duneval's comment. He let the old man fall back to the floor, shackles painfully catching him as the chains were pulled to length. The new king stomped to the door.

"Proceed. Don't kill 'im, though."

With that, the enraged Halford stormed out of the torture room. The drummer resumed. As did the lashing.

[Grayson]

"Kelsseth? What troubles you? More moping about being stuck in this room, I take?" the dragoness stretched on her couch, wings extending to bypass the piece of furniture in length, "I feel it, too. so much time spent in this tiny building. Sure, the servants give us whatever we wish, but it is all human luxuries. I long for the keep back home."

The larger manakete turned his head to look at his partner. He was staring at the fire roaring in the hearth for the room. He shook his head, long silver pony tail swaying at his back.

"No, Jassra. I find the accommodations here to be just fine." he responded in his usual tone. A tone that was oddly young sounding for one as old as he, but deep enough to match his size, "Though I do long to leave this room, it is for different reasons than your own."

Kelsseth looked his superior in the face. His eyes were earnest and true, a trait not often found in the faction he was a part of.

"I wish to be among the humans below. I would hide my wings. It seems many of these humans are quite large so my size would not make them suspiscious. Even if they do find me out, they no doubt have seen us enter the city. What harm could be done by walking among them?" his appeal was honest. He was almost begging for Jassra to allow him to leave. The dragoness looked at him with a cruel look upon her face. Almost as if macking him with her eyes alone. Then she broke out into uproarious laughter.

"You fool! You dunderheaded fool!" Jassra slowly calmed down and finally gave her answer, "Alright. Go play with your humans. You will soon find there is nothing to be so entranced with. And don't you go making friends. I do not want you going soft when the time comes to do our job."

Kelsseth's face lit up and he bolted to his feet. He thanked Jassra and ran out the door, pulling a cloak from the wall. Once out in the hall, he took a moment to concentrate on hiding his wings. He thought of himself as a man, no more than that. Immense pain came from his back, but it was short lived. Popping and the sound of skin being pulled tight over bone sounded from his shrinking wings. A few moments later, his back was completely bare. Two slits were left in Kelsseth's tunic. He threw on the cloak to cover them and bounded to where he figured the front gates would be.

Back in the dragons' room, Jassra laid down on her couch and scoffed at her subordinate's foolishness.

[Grayson]

After Cray, Erie, and Antaine stripped down, the three waded into the cold waters of the Draig river. They chose the eastern side of the wall so they would be able to swim with the current. That way, any movement in the water made by their swimming would simply look like the current hitting something in the river. The three did their best to silently swim close enough to the wall to spy on the guards patrolling it. As soon as the guards moving along the bottom of the walls were out of sight, the group plunged into the cold waters and swam through the iron grate caked in algae.

Cray signaled for the other two to stay underwater while he took a look around. He reasoned that his black hair would be more difficult to spot in the dark night than Erie's brunette and Antaine's auburn hair. The spearman allowed his head to emerge from the water up to his mouth and peered around the inside of the walls. On one side of the river was the gigantic hill that the council building and it's spire stood upon. On the other side was the fortress and barracks for Mullingard's armed forces. Thankfully, it looked as though most of the guards were on the other leg of their rounds.

Cray silently signaled the other two to come up and the three crawled onto the northern bank of the Draig. They quickly and silently found a hiding spot, shivering from the cool night breeze blowing across their soaked skin.

"It's... f-f-f-freezin'! We need ta g-g-g-get some clothes... and a f-f-f-fire soon."

"I know. Just keep it down, Antaine. We don't wannae blow our stealth." Cray whispered as he looked around for guard movement. A smile showed itself on his visage as he spotted the glow of a lantern moving closer, "Stay here. I'm gonna go get me an outfit."

Cray crept around the wall his companions hid behind and found another hiding spot by a tree. As the guard he spotted earlier passed his new cover, he snuck behind the man. The guard's helmet would make it difficult to knock him out from the back. Fortunately, he had a plan.

The black haired norricman reached out at the spear the guard held and grasped it. While pulling on the wooden shaft, he brought the unsuspecting guard into his elbow aimed at the man's leather and chain clad back. As the man was forced forward by the blow, Cray brought his free hand down on the spear and freed it from the guardsman's grasp. The guard wheeled around to see his attacker only to find the butt of the lance embedded in his face. The guard went down hard and slipped out of consciousness. Cray hefted the lance on his shoulder and strapped on the guard's shield. He lifted the man by his ankles and dragged him back to the hiding spot.

"Well done." said Erie, truly impressed.

"what about us?" scoffed Antaine, impressed, but hiding it.

"Well.." responded Cray as he put on the guard's clothing, hauberk, brigandine, and plates, "Ye two stay put. I'll get ye some clothes. Just be ready ta get yer hands dirty."

Cray put on the guard's helm, grabbed his spear and shield, and ran out to find more unsuspecting victims. A few minutes of searching later and he found two guards posted at an entrance to the lower portion of the council building inside the hill. He readied himself as he picked up his pace. Cray finally got close enough to the guards for them to notice him. He ran up to the two and spoke with an urgent tone.

"I found somethin' odd over yonder! As per protocol sixteen, yer obligated ta assist me, bein' tha closest guardsmen!" Cray hoped to the elder spirit that the guard prtocols hadn't been changed in the years since his time as a guard.

"Fine. Where's this odd thing?" one of the guards responded, slightly annoyed, but also relieved that he could finally stretch his legs a bit. The two followed Cray back to the hiding spot where they were greeted by a pair of fists to their faces and a shield edge to their necks. The pair of guards fell out of consciousness like the first one and Erie and Antaine got to stripping their targets.

"Ye couldn't've found a woman ta bring o'er here? This uniform doesn't fit." Erie complained.

"Sorry. Just bear with it fer a while." Erie groaned and finished getting dressed. The three, now fully incognito, stepped out of their hiding spot and made their way to the council building.