Visitors
The night following the exploration of dungeon Wrong, Delilah Crow returned to the jail to check up on the ethereal warrior. She found him sitting quietly on the bed in his cell, which was comforting given his state a week ago.
“You returned.” Xelor observed, “Was I of help?”
“May I?” she gestured to the empty space beside him. Her fear of being injured by him passed days ago once he lost his red hue.
“Yes, please sit,” he replied, “It is all I am able to offer now.”
“That’s not entirely true,” she reassured, “Your information did help everyone tonight.”
“I am grateful to be allowed the chance to aid the Royal Guard,” he bowed his head slightly, “but I will never be able to atone for all I’ve done against them.”
“You might be surprised,” Delilah smiled, “It will take time, though I’m sure most people realize you weren’t in control when you did those things.”
“I should have been strong enough not to allow myself to be contaminated by a mere trinket,” he scowled and ran his fingers through his blond hair in frustration, “Because of that, I no longer have a home.”
“The others won’t accept you back under any circumstances?” She inquired.
“No, and they should not,” He stated simply, “I was banished, and rightly so.”
“I came down here to tell you that you’ll have to remain here for a while longer, anyway,” the ranger stated, “Once everyone is convinced you’re no longer a threat, you will be released.”
“I have no other place to go,” Xelor replied, “What will become of me when I do gain freedom?”
“You’ll have to decide that, my friend, but I will help you as much as I am able,” Delilah placed a gentle hand on his arm, and he flinched slightly at the touch, “I’m sure you can find something worthwhile to do when the time comes.”
“We shall see,” he stated softly, “Will you still visit?”
“If you wish,” she thought she noticed a small smile on the his usually stoic face at her reply. She rose from her seat beside Xelor, “though I had best be getting back to Britain for tonight. I will come back some time tomorrow.”
“Have a safe journey,” the ethereal warrior replied. He felt a twinge of unexpected sadness as he watched the ranger leave once again.
Delilah traveled to Castle British by moongate and returned to her office to complete the mission report and make notes from the day before. Some time later, she heard a rustling noise and footsteps from the hallway.
“Who is there?” She asked loudly. Delilah tried to get up from her chair, but was stopped when an unfamiliar hand found itself on her mouth.
“Don’t move,” her attacker commanded.
The ranger had no intention of listening to the man, and struggled to free herself. She hissed in pain as she felt a small dagger enter her flesh, and before Delilah could do anything more, something unseen hit her in the head. She fell to the cold, stone floor and into the darkness that engulfed her.
Meanwhile, Xelor sat up suddenly from his bed and listened to his surroundings. He could hear faint footfalls on the stone. He wondered for a moment if the ranger had returned, and got up to look through the barred door to his cell. His eyes widened when he saw the black and red robes of the bloodstone cult on a group men in the corridor, and he backed away to the rear wall.
“Help!” he yelled, hoping to get a jailor's attention. His deep voice echoed off heavy walls, and the cultists hurried to open the iron door between them.
The men surrounded him and he lunged at one blocking the door. The man sneered at Xelor, and hit him in the shoulder with an iron mace the warrior did not see. The sharp spikes dug into his flesh and clothing on impact, causing him to drop to the floor in agony. He was struck again as he tried to rise, and the blood loss soon took a toll on his strength. His last recollection before succumbing to the pain was of being dragged along the ground.
Arya heard a commotion as she was taking inventory on remaining jailor uniforms in storage. One of her colleagues burst into the room out of breath, and she raised an eyebrow at his sudden appearance.
“What is going on?” she asked the young man.
“There are people in the jail,” he panted, “They came in with a moongate and knocked my partner out. One of them took his weapon.”
The head jailor dropped the pile of chainmail shirts she held, and ran to the prison cells with her own weapon ready. She arrived at the ethereal warrior’s cell in time to see a moongate close inside. Arya opened the door and gasped when she glanced at the floor.
“Go get one of the court officers,” she commanded the man behind her, “I need to send a message to Britain immediately.”
The night following the exploration of dungeon Wrong, Delilah Crow returned to the jail to check up on the ethereal warrior. She found him sitting quietly on the bed in his cell, which was comforting given his state a week ago.
“You returned.” Xelor observed, “Was I of help?”
“May I?” she gestured to the empty space beside him. Her fear of being injured by him passed days ago once he lost his red hue.
“Yes, please sit,” he replied, “It is all I am able to offer now.”
“That’s not entirely true,” she reassured, “Your information did help everyone tonight.”
“I am grateful to be allowed the chance to aid the Royal Guard,” he bowed his head slightly, “but I will never be able to atone for all I’ve done against them.”
“You might be surprised,” Delilah smiled, “It will take time, though I’m sure most people realize you weren’t in control when you did those things.”
“I should have been strong enough not to allow myself to be contaminated by a mere trinket,” he scowled and ran his fingers through his blond hair in frustration, “Because of that, I no longer have a home.”
“The others won’t accept you back under any circumstances?” She inquired.
“No, and they should not,” He stated simply, “I was banished, and rightly so.”
“I came down here to tell you that you’ll have to remain here for a while longer, anyway,” the ranger stated, “Once everyone is convinced you’re no longer a threat, you will be released.”
“I have no other place to go,” Xelor replied, “What will become of me when I do gain freedom?”
“You’ll have to decide that, my friend, but I will help you as much as I am able,” Delilah placed a gentle hand on his arm, and he flinched slightly at the touch, “I’m sure you can find something worthwhile to do when the time comes.”
“We shall see,” he stated softly, “Will you still visit?”
“If you wish,” she thought she noticed a small smile on the his usually stoic face at her reply. She rose from her seat beside Xelor, “though I had best be getting back to Britain for tonight. I will come back some time tomorrow.”
“Have a safe journey,” the ethereal warrior replied. He felt a twinge of unexpected sadness as he watched the ranger leave once again.
Delilah traveled to Castle British by moongate and returned to her office to complete the mission report and make notes from the day before. Some time later, she heard a rustling noise and footsteps from the hallway.
“Who is there?” She asked loudly. Delilah tried to get up from her chair, but was stopped when an unfamiliar hand found itself on her mouth.
“Don’t move,” her attacker commanded.
The ranger had no intention of listening to the man, and struggled to free herself. She hissed in pain as she felt a small dagger enter her flesh, and before Delilah could do anything more, something unseen hit her in the head. She fell to the cold, stone floor and into the darkness that engulfed her.
Meanwhile, Xelor sat up suddenly from his bed and listened to his surroundings. He could hear faint footfalls on the stone. He wondered for a moment if the ranger had returned, and got up to look through the barred door to his cell. His eyes widened when he saw the black and red robes of the bloodstone cult on a group men in the corridor, and he backed away to the rear wall.
“Help!” he yelled, hoping to get a jailor's attention. His deep voice echoed off heavy walls, and the cultists hurried to open the iron door between them.
The men surrounded him and he lunged at one blocking the door. The man sneered at Xelor, and hit him in the shoulder with an iron mace the warrior did not see. The sharp spikes dug into his flesh and clothing on impact, causing him to drop to the floor in agony. He was struck again as he tried to rise, and the blood loss soon took a toll on his strength. His last recollection before succumbing to the pain was of being dragged along the ground.
Arya heard a commotion as she was taking inventory on remaining jailor uniforms in storage. One of her colleagues burst into the room out of breath, and she raised an eyebrow at his sudden appearance.
“What is going on?” she asked the young man.
“There are people in the jail,” he panted, “They came in with a moongate and knocked my partner out. One of them took his weapon.”
The head jailor dropped the pile of chainmail shirts she held, and ran to the prison cells with her own weapon ready. She arrived at the ethereal warrior’s cell in time to see a moongate close inside. Arya opened the door and gasped when she glanced at the floor.
“Go get one of the court officers,” she commanded the man behind her, “I need to send a message to Britain immediately.”