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When Autumn Storms Come 2017-07-24 11:34:12 Post No. 1701632
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When Autumn Storms Come 2017-07-24 11:34:12 Post No. 1701632
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"The sun is setting..." Bjorn remarked casually. "Are you sure you're ready for your first night shift?"
He stands beside you, a stocky, ironclad figure illuminated in the bronze light of the setting sun. In such a light, one might think he was a Dwarven Noble, but you've known Bjorn Bloodstone for far too long to think anything of the sort. No, Bjorn, a dear childhood friend who you have known for many years, is nothing more than a common guardsman in this Dwarven keep of Anvil.
The sun sinks lower, and dips behind a line of heavy, dark clouds, ready to burst and release their frigid payload of ice and snow upon the mountain range. A chill wind blows as a sobering reminder to the hostility of this frozen wasteland. And here you stand, dressed in your regulation mail shirt, sword and shield in hand, prepared to wait out the quiet hours of the night, and stand vigil by the gate.
"You've received orders from the captain for the evening, yes?"
The captain was quite clear - keep watch at the gate. It was to be unlocked only for merchant caravans bringing trade goods to the city. Private citizens and non-commercial traffic is to only be granted entry to the hold during daylight hours. And, above all, the stern words of your captain echoed in your head - do not leave your post.
"I leave you to it then. I'll be by in the morning to relieve you of duty. Stand strong, brethren."
Bjorn gives you a friendly punch in the arm with a chain covered fist, and starts making his way through the town square. In a few moments, he disappears into the crowd, and you stand alone at the West gate, staring into the setting sun from atop the fortress wall, the portal to its entry now sealed against the rapidly encroaching night. You settle in for your shift.
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As the light dies, so too does the vivacity of the hold. The town square is soon desolate as the citizenry flock into their domiciles for the evening, leaving you standing alone atop the wall, silhouetted against the night by a burning brazier. The square is devoid of life now.
Your mind begins to wander, conjuring up wistful images of your bed, calling your name...
And with a start, panicked cries for help jar you from your daydream. They're coming from an alleyway, just out of sight from your position atop the wall.
>What do you do?
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>>1701632
Stand fast. Our job is an important one, we have our orders.
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>>1701877
The Captain's orders echo in your head as the screams echo through the streets. By a fear of will power alone, you stifle your curiosity and stand at the gate. Eventually, the screams die down and the streets are quiet. By the light of the torches illuminating the town square, growing dimmer as the early hours of the morning tick steadily by, you see a hooded figure, taller than a dear friend, and taller than even most men, emerge from an alleyway behind the Frostholm Inn. His robes glisten by the fire and moonlight, and appear to be damp with what you can only assume to be blood. Nonchalantly, he begins to walk deeper into the city of Anvil, taking the road towards the warrens.
The warrens, you think to yourself... What a pit. Once a great mining district for iron and silver, once the deposits dried up, so too did the work for the miners, and, now, most are left living in squalor and destitution. Those that don't often resort to criminal activities to bolster their paltry incomes.
You wonder to yourself - having suspicion of a crime being committed on your watch, and a potential suspect, can you now justify to yourself leaving your post?
>Stay put
>Pursue your mark
>Write in
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Scream out to him to come here
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