The Net of Whitespire

[Tide1 4535]

 

The Net of Whitespire

 

☩ ☩ ☩

 

 

 

It was always a near thing, operations that required a short burst in, then a short burst out, accomplishing the objective within a brief window.

 

 Lennerd, a simple private in Blackvale’s ranks, had never undertaken such a mission before. He was not to go alone, of course, nor was he to be relied on for much. Well, just one thing…

 

“Lennard. I hear that you are the surest catcher in all of Tiel. Stories of the time that you caught all of Miss Jette’s fruit when she dropped them during the market.  I will give you the opportunity to prove that yourself. You are to be put under one of my most loyal men, Ivan of Arpa. My cousin Hendrik has summoned him and a group of orcs to partake in a covert operation. Aaun has betrayed us. Whitespire is weak. We must strike while we have the opportunity.”

 

Lennerd was a poor boy from a small market town. His meeting with Sir Gaspard was the first and only time he had seen a man of such a stature. Proud in action, despite the state of the war. Strong in tone, despite the many cruelties that he had suffered. What awed Lennerd the most was his resolve and strength. Even in these dark days for the League, the Captain-General’s mind worked at a pace he had not seen before. The fear in Lennerd’s heart was great. His devotion to his liege was greater.

 

And so it was that he and an orc, a giant, fat olog named Brug, waited at the base of Whitespire during a rainy, cold morning. Each held the opposite ends of a giant net. Lennerd was no small man himself, he weighed more stone than any other in Tiel, but he felt dwarfed by even the smallest orc on the march over. They were loud, boisterous, sure of themselves in a way he never was. Brug, for all the wits he lacked, could at least notice this. As they climbed to the base of the great tower, the seat of the King of Aaun, Brug hummed a merry tune. It calmed Lennerd’s nerves for what was to come.

 

As the minutes went on, he could hardly see, much less hear, the men and orcs that had stormed the tower. The guards of the city had been unaware of their movements, nor had the general citizenry awoken yet, but still Lennard feared what would happen if even one person crossed the bridge over to the tower the whole operation would be blown. The anxiety in his heart grew and grew as each minute ticked by. Then, when it seemed like it had gone on for so long that the raid had blundered in some way, Lennerd heard the call.

 

“LENNERD! BRUG! THE NET!” It was Ivan’s voice.

 

The two looked up and scrambled to unfurl the net and stretch it out when they saw it: boats flying through the air, each with a parachute breaking its descent somewhat. One snapped, sending a group of men plummeting into the sea to meet their deaths from such a height. Lennerd thought he saw a bishop’s crozier go with it, though he had only heard of such things. The others kept aloft, but it seemed that they were drifting out towards the sea.

 

“Uhhh…. Hurry!” Lennerd’s voice broke as he yelled to Brug. The olog got the message and began to wade out some into the shallow sea. Lennerd moved slower, along small rocks that he could find his footing on. He and Brug were the backup’s backup, only needed if the worst happened. Now, the worst was here. The man felt that he was going to vomit, as the fortune of this whole raid now rested on the shoulders of him and an olog who couldn’t count to three.

 

But then, fortune broke in favor of Lennerd. The winds that had carried the fleeing boat-parachutes north ceased, and without it beneath them the boats simply drifted straight down. Right into the awaiting net. It was a brilliant catch, and Lennard and Brug could not help but cheer, for King John of Aaun and the High Pontiff were both snagged! Their flight, in both meanings, had been cut short by the movers of destiny that they claimed to have at their backs.

 

Just as the king’s guards were about to hop out, perhaps to do battle to save the King and the Pontiff, Bo Amador and Warboss Apek, leader of the orcish contingent there, quickly scaled down Whitespire. It was as if they were climbing a rope, so fluid and peerless was their dexterity. Shocking the Aaunish soldiers into surrender, for they could see more soldiers quickly making their way down the wall after the two, no further fight needed to be had. Apek had carried chains during his descent, a show of strength as well as intelligence, for he soon had the soldiers shackled. The King of Aaun and the Pontiff were shown better treatment, and they were escorted to a small rowboat by Bo and a few of his soldiers. The return to Veletz was swift and without problem. It was as if the world had stood still for several hours.

 

For his part, Lennerd was paid enough coin to allow him to buy a farm outside Tiel and marry his longtime village sweetheart, a cobbler’s daughter named Mariet. Brug was given a lifetime’s supply of roasted pig to eat, which he consumed in full within a month. 

 

[Ryanark 2738]

"Like crabs. Do you like crabs?" Raphaiel asked himself, looking across into the mirror as he ate a meal of fine lobster. "What say you, we put them all in a bucket and watch them fight?" He suggested to himself, slipping a piece of meat into his mouth. "I quite like this place," he smiled as cannon fire shook the candlelit dungeon.

[Rig 17591]

Grisha finishes his pull-ups for the day, his arms trembling like he's got the jitters. He hears of the successful raid and smiles ear-to-ear, "There we go boys. There we go."