The owl's hour is quiet. The streets and lanes are nearly empty and black shadows hide many a nefarious deed. It is compact in the lower quarters with narrow alleys connected as if a warren created by some demented rat. A maze offering clandestine movements and easy escapes into the dens of underworld.
A large group shuffles along the alley, hugging the sides of buildings. The starlight briefly illuminates a scar faced man carrying a short thick gnarled cudgel in one hand while tugging on a rope in the other. The rope it attached to the bound hands of a string of cowled figures. The figures moan and whimper and the man tugs hard to quiet them. At the end of the group are two men. One of thick chest and close cropped beard. He is tall and wears armor clad in metal rings, at his side a morningstar dangles loosely. Behind him is the Fat Man as he is called. A corpulent caricature of a human. He is the personal servant of that most malicious lord, the Baron Flatulent.
A breeze catches the hoods covering the faces of the figures and blows them astray revealing young women gagged and with pleading eyes. Here, you stop for a moment. It is a friend. She who hates the Baron Flatulent. Whose family died at his command.. She notices and knows she has been identified. She winks.
A large group shuffles along the alley, hugging the sides of buildings. The starlight briefly illuminates a scar faced man carrying a short thick gnarled cudgel in one hand while tugging on a rope in the other. The rope it attached to the bound hands of a string of cowled figures. The figures moan and whimper and the man tugs hard to quiet them. At the end of the group are two men. One of thick chest and close cropped beard. He is tall and wears armor clad in metal rings, at his side a morningstar dangles loosely. Behind him is the Fat Man as he is called. A corpulent caricature of a human. He is the personal servant of that most malicious lord, the Baron Flatulent.
A breeze catches the hoods covering the faces of the figures and blows them astray revealing young women gagged and with pleading eyes. Here, you stop for a moment. It is a friend. She who hates the Baron Flatulent. Whose family died at his command.. She notices and knows she has been identified. She winks.
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