Week 6

“Where is he? There was no body. Is that right?”

Lazlo paced the great hall looking to each of the assembled guild members in turn. Concerned faces stared back him, hopeful that he would know the next move. The truth was though that Rio had not told them what the next move was, he hadn’t planned for this and Lazlo felt a great pressure to step up and provide some sort of comfort to his brothers. It was no secret that Rio had shown favour to Lazlo, that he treated him as a second in command, although nothing had been made official.

Outside the rain poured heavily. It was dark now and the bitter cold crept in through open windows as the prison was a difficult building to keep warm. From inside the prison tower Lazlo could see out over most of Sanctuary and he watched as most of the others did too over the eastern gate where the barricades had been built and the soldiers below made their preparations.

The great Wyvern let its presence be known every now and then with a terrifying roar that commanded a silence on both sides of the wall.

Hours passed. The rain slowed but never really stopped. Lazlo had retreated to a quieter part of the tower, a part he had never been to before. He walked in to Rio’s chamber, a place the Sea Elf had always kept very private half hoping to see him in there as though none of today’s events had ever taken place, but that was not what he found. Around the frame of the door small parts to a much larger trap were mid construction, and the room itself chaotic as if decorated in a hundred or more thoughts.

Lazlo slumped down on to the arm chair and sat there in silence for what seemed like a long time lost in his thoughts, but was really only a couple of minutes. None of the men where fighters, not really, and Lazlo didn’t have the authority or desire to lead them to the gate. Instead they seemed happy in the unease of pondering as to what was the best course of action. Inaction it seemed favoured them all.

The weather outside stirred, the loud crash of thunder provoking a sharp reaction from the young leader who until that point had seemed lost and partly overwhelmed.

Lazlo shot to his feet, his emotions evolving from fear in to anger. “Where was Rio?!?” He foraged through piles of papers and aggressively turned out draws searching for a clue as to where, or why. It then that he noticed the wardrobe had been moved. Scuff marks along the floor betraying it. Wet foot prints nearby suggested a recent disturbance. With measured hesitation Lazlo moved the wardrobe as carefully and quietly as he could. Behind it was a small closed door.  Lazlo cautiously checked it for any traps before opening it and stepping through.

On the other side of the door was another large room. There was no other doors offering entry or exit, only the one he had come through. There was however an open window that looked out in to the oncoming wind and rain. Judging by the newly wet floor this window had not been open long. Lazlo dashed over and shielding his eyes from the rain he looked out, but could see nothing.

Turning back in to the room, he wiped his face dry. The thunder built behind him now and the lightening followed shortly after. Tonight the Gods appeared angry he thought. It was on the second flash of lightening, and the brief illumination it offered that he caught sight of his surroundings. An empty chair pulled up to a table where freshly bloodied bandages lay.

Was it Rio? Had he been here? Who else could it have been he thought?

His eyes scanned the room further and it was then that he saw them. Hung up on the far wall, delicately placed side by side. 4 cloaks black as the night sky, emblazoned with a circle of pure white dressed in golden threads. Well, it looked like there ought to have been 4. One was missing.

Week 5

It was over the course of the next few weeks that Rio doubled his efforts to promote the guild and spread the good word of the deeds they had done. As he sat waiting for his next appointment he recalled the busy weeks.

Firstly he had been to the Lucky Duck and the Old Forge. The taverns proved more valuable than he could have imagined and soon Rio found himself sat telling tales of his exploits to the gathered crowds. They responded positively, eagerly drinking in the stories of successes, treasures, wealth and dangers. The buzz was tangible and one by one the assembled urged Rio to allow them to take part in his guild.

All would be welcomed that night. Welcome to train, and those fit enough, those able enough to take on the training would be kept. This excited the crowd further, the young men’s banter infecting others and setting a precedent that Rio would have unlikely achieved alone.

Then there was the Scouts guild which recently disbanded. Some of the more senior members had moved away to towns up north, and those that remained remembered Rio and the time he had spent with them. Captain Pemberton recruited most to the guard of Sanctuary to aid Rio in the more recently assembled division. Rio had proven highly successful in helping to track down criminals and re acquire lost or stolen goods, helping the guard to close a lot of old cases they had thought themselves defeated on. Now Rio would have a small team to work closely with, and this team as well as being grateful for the job they had received still craved adventure beyond the town walls. The job occupied only a part of their lives as the division was still small and in a town the size of sanctuary there was always a lot of down time.

Rio welcomed these old acquaintances in to the guild knowing their skills and experience would be most valuable and great for the solidity and credibility of his ranks.

He took a lot of work still from the caravans and merchants, and in taking post from towns to villages nearby. The road had been more than a little dangerous as of late and even what appeared to be the simplest of tasks in taking a letter from Sanctuary to Chorlen proved adequately exciting for some these days.

Reflecting on this as he waited Rio knew the past few weeks had been successful and he didn’t feel like stopping anytime soon. A group of his men waited outside, each in position, each ready and able to react at a moment’s notice.

It was a strange smell Rio thought as he sat waiting, one that conjured a sense of nostalgia. The stone stairs spiralled high above him and he had been waiting now for 30 minutes or more. He was nervous because he knew what they wanted him for, but he waited none the less. It seemed busy here today with all the unopened crates stacked on what appeared to be every level as he arched back looking up as far he could to the floors above him.

It was then that he paused suddenly, a dark thought entered his mind, and moving from his seat he walked towards the crates. He ran his hand over the wood collecting any clue that might make itself known. Those men had been unfamiliar to him. In fact the more he thought about it, not one of them seemed familiar, and it was then that his suspicions grew. Taking a knife out, he prised open the nearest crate, the smell of its contents overwhelmingly familiar, and strong. Rio knew it, he knew that smell well, it was gun powder. His brother had always smelt of the stuff, that and rum.

He opened a further two crates, each filled with more gun powder. Rio looked up to where the assembled nobility gathered in the rooms above and dashed towards the stairs. He began to shout warnings as he started to climb the tower.

From outside the tower where Rio’s men waited they witnessed first-hand the power of the explosion. The earth shook fiercely and the skies lit up with flames that reached out over Sanctuary. Stone and flame began to rain down hard.

Rio never finished his shouts of warning.

Week 4

The blue moon watched over Sanctuary with a vibrancy that Rio had not seen since the passing of Lady Penastra. Night time provided him with the peace and clarity he needed to reflect on the events of the day.

Common pick pockets! Incensed by what his “friend” had referred to him and his guild as earlier that day Rio paced up and down the jetty. The cool breeze helping somewhat to calm his temper. Not one to often allow his emotions to rule him Rio had been taken back by this remark and he intended to tackle this head on.

The guild was empty now, the prison looking cold and uninviting. Rio had no reason to be here either other then he needed to get away from the festivities. That and he wouldn’t want to be accused of lifting a few silvers from a few drunks. His guild where no doubt at home, some with their families, other perhaps at work. They are all decent people he thought. All working hard to make a living by day, and all eager to come together and discover, retrieve, uncover some sort of lost treasure. Some way of opening up that door of infinite possibilities.

What hurt Rio the most was that one of the most influential people in Sanctuary thought of their endeavours as deceitful, and dishonest, and akin to common thieves and this did not sit well with the Shadow Master.

The past two weeks had been bitter sweet in their achievements. After Chorlen they hoped to repeat their success when they were commissioned to retrieve stolen taxes from a local village by a notoriously hard to find group of bandits and mercenaries known to many as the brothers of nightfall.

The brothers showed why they are so difficult to catch and set a trap for Rio’s guild members. The small group, led by the promising Lazlo had not seen it until it was far too late. Rio never usually went with them on their quests. He wanted them to learn, to experience and always tried to gauge the difficulty of the task at hand to those he sent out to do it. 3 had died that night, a few made it back with some injury, Lazlo included. Markham, Janod, and Trayvan had been killed. 3 good men, two of which were married, Trayvan had children.

When Rio saw them return in the state they did he felt something that he had never really felt before. An overwhelming sense of responsibility and failure mixed in to one. He had let these men down, somehow this was his failing to them. Had he not trained them harder, had he not taught them more sooner, perhaps 3 men wouldn’t have died.

It was shortly after their return that Rio took Lazlo back out to the site of the incident, the master and his apprentice. Raging with emotion Rio knew that this was far from sensible, and his chances of success where dramatically lowered in this raw state, but he ignored his teachings, he ignored his instinct and he knew that he was wrong to do so.

At the site he laid each of the fallen to rest and promised that their families would not go wanting. The blue moon still shining brightly overhead took each of the men to a safer, kinder world beyond.

What happened after that will never be spoken of. Lazlo and Rio returned to the guild later that night. The brothers of nightfall where all dead, the taxes sent on their way again. Lazlo didn’t return to the guild until several days later, and still will not speak of what he saw that night.

Rio reflected on these events. “The people of Sanctuary are ignorant as to what we do” he thought. “It is my place to educate them”. Looking back at the empty prison, the absence of light creating a wonderfully haunting image, he remembered those fallen. “These men deserve better”