Speaking of music, here are the songs I used in this video. Headphones are recommended!
How're you liking this so far? Did I answer the questions good enough? Do you have a favorite answer for part two?
|source; instantly regrets putting this in before writing enough to hide it|
The table occupied most of the [meeting] hall, its round shape symbolizing that there was no head or tail; everyone was equal, and ideas could be shared freely.
Soon, all that was left were ten empty spots. "Who are those for?" [Mark] asked John.
The former tank gunner stopped rubbing his stubble and said, "Oh, they're for the rebel delegates. See, when we need to discuss battle tactics here in Castle Wurlenit, they send 'ambassadors' to help."
"But why? Wouldn't they add negativity to the atmosphere?"
"Most aren't that bad. They just need a different cause."
The men clasped hands tightly and shook. John whispered to Mark, "He's the rebel chief, or leader. Samuel and Richard are friends from way back. Unfortunately, that doesn't give a hoot to the rift between Followers and rebels."
Richard raised a palm. "Your turn, Taylor."
The man who had helped David seemed hesitant. "We heard your bomb was finished, so we request that we use it to destroy a castle near Levgalne."
Samuel's jaw dropped. "The Rachendax? Not only does the maraconda baron dwell, but Leviathan is also stationed inside. Any attempt to blow up the castle would be extremely challenging, if not a sure death."
"At least it would be more useful than going to Zracs and signing a parchment before freezing to death," another delegate exclaimed.
"Besides," Richard added a lot more gently, "I thought the chosen ones were supposed to do it." He then quoted a prophecy: "The ones who are chosen/Will bring out their best/If they will succeed/The wanting heart's test/But those who are not/Will harden the race/They will destroy/Like the spikes of a mace."
"And that's just it," Smits said. "We know who the Chosen Ones are."
A hush blanketed the hall immediately. Richard broke it by saying a hopeful tone, "If you know, then who are they?"
"These three," replied Samuel, pointing to David, Mark, and Warren. "We translated a Toreth tablet by first looking at its reflection and unscrambling the words. It was a quote by an unknown philosopher that read, 'Detrius created love to be a rock in life's race.' The word race refers to when an apostle named Paul said that he had finished the race. David has firm Follower beliefs, therefore, relating to the 'race' of a believer. Warren is like a rock with his physical strength and solid friendships. And Mark is loving, besides the fact he is in love with Michelle."
"We have the advantage of surprise now. We need to use it before it's snatched out of our grasps," a delegate argued. "We have siege towers, ballistas, catapults, men, horses, and the bomb. There's no time to waste. And if you don't give us permission to use the Chosen Ones, we may take them by force."
Warren cleared his throat and felt eyes turn his way. "I have a compromise. We go with the attack, but should trouble show, we run and sail to Zracs."
Ian made sure the coast was clear before he left the darkness the barracks provided from the moonlight. He had two important jobs to do tonight, both with swiftness and stealth. The less people that saw him, the better. Because he had instructions to eliminate any that noticed him. So hopefully, no one had been awake when he passed by the barracks window.
He dashed from shadow to shadow, avoiding patrols that made their rounds. His eyes scanned the area, searching for a high vantage point. Catching sight of a tree, Ian ran to it. He scrambled up the branches, wanting none to hear or see.
At a high part, he looked over the gigantic courtyard. He finally spotted the prison building a good distance away. Satisfied, he hurried to the solid ground.
"Ian," a watchman said."What brings you out here at the late hours of the night? You anxious for the fight tomorrow or something?"
Ian cursed his foolish actions. He had forgotten there was a tower close to the tree. He turned and looked at the man, who was illuminated by a torch. The traitor produced a blowgun, targeted the watchman, and blew out. The arrow whizzed into the guard's throat, sending poison to his heart. The watchman buckled, cracking his skull on the hard floor.
He reached the prison with ease. The building was dull and set low in the earth, stairs leading down to the doorway. A sentry stood in front of the steps, his helmet on the ground next to him. Seeing Ian approach, he waved and started to say his greeting. Unfortunately for him, Ian's flail was already in action. The spiked ball slammed the side of his head. A severe crunch sounded and the sentry fell, his mortal wound leaking a thick substance. Ian took the fellow's key ring and stepped to the door, unlocked it, and going inside.
"You failed," Ian said flatly.
"Ssen flunked his job," Hcol growled. "If he hadn't, I would have succeeded my part. Now hurry up!"
As Ian took off the shackles on his hands and feet, he asked, "Hcol, do virockels have a weak spot?"
Hcol glared. "Yes, one." He pointed to the base of his skull on the back of his neck. "That's where."
"Interesting." Ian pulled off the neck shackle. "Well, you just may want to keep that part covered."
"Somebody might do this." Ian whipped his flail at the soft area full force. It connected, and the virockel stumbled forward.
"You'll . . . pay," Hcol grunted, fury alight in his taut face.
"Nah. Leviathan would have you executed anyway, so die, won't you?" Ian shoved Hcol, who in turn toppled onto his back. Green and blue blood mingled in an oozing mess.
Ian left the building and headed for the stables. Now that the job was done, there was another to tend to, which was telling Alex the assault plans.
The Followers and rebels were in for a nasty surprise.
|left to right: OneShot, Undertale, Among the Sleep, Little Nightmares, Terraria, A Hat in Time|