Rogue Tales Part 1.

The whine of the carriages' sturdy dark horses echoed in the barren countryside. Their coachmen, taciturn figures hunched over on their seats, rode their coaches up a sinuous path and towards the dark fortress, standing ominously from a stoic perch like a mountain above the quiet and frozen countryside. In a recess near the road, 4 eyes watch them attentively, 2 blue, 1 green and 1 brown. - “I don’t know about this one, Daniel. The locals told us not to go near there. You heard them talk.” Hushed a whispered female voice. “If we get caught, we’ll probably be tortured in that dungeon for weeks, months even…” From a simple dismissive motion of his left hand, Daniel obtained the silence he needed to concentrate. In a calm calculated gravelly voice, his blue eyes still fixed on the castle gate, he said. “We will do it as we’ve always done it. These nobles are cruel, cruel but not wise. If they are so feared in this region, they won’t expect us to rob them, not during their yearly feast either. Just stick to the plan and we’ll be out of there in no time and a lot richer, kid.” With that another motion of his hand, rehearsed a thousand times, he sent her towards the castle..

Where the rogue was wearing her brown cape, still covered with leaves and brambles from the surrounding vegetation, Daniel, once the road was clear of incoming carriages, slowly rose from the drainage ditch they were hiding in, slung his Lute over his shoulder, dusted his colorful garments and headed up the path. Each step he took up towards the fortress gave him an eerie feeling, not the usual butterflies in the stomach anticipation before a hold-up or a break-in, not even the fear that he had felt during his time following the king on his numerous campaigns as a younger man. This time it was different, perhaps she was right, this was too big for them. But it was too late to turn back, they had probably already seen him in his bright clown outfit, and so he held onto his instrument and in a carefully practiced manner, put a little bit more enthusiasm in his step up the hill. 

Crawling low, the rogue waited for Daniel to arrive at the gate and present himself to the guards to sneak past the road and into the underbrush. With a feline agility, she disappeared into the foliage only to reappear at the foot of the castle’s wall. In an almost mechanical manner, checked her old dagger, an ancient family heirloom was still there and took out the grappling hook from her bag. The rogue tied a simple but sturdy knot to it. She could smell the foul odor coming from the 1st window on the southern tower. With silent anticipation, she threw the hook, cringing at the sharp sound the claws made on the carved stone window sill. Without hesitation she started her ascension, not looking down, one hand after the other. With every meter her mind grew more restless, her thoughts racing between the wealth she was to find and what waited for her in the halls of the castle.

Crawling into the window of the foul smelling room, her feet planted themselves firmly on the tiles of the latrines. She looked around carefully, her odd-colored eyes still accustomed to the outside darkness. The room was brimming with fine golden detail, engraved furniture and a strange dark cloak hanging from a hook near the entrance. “Damn. Too heavy to carry.”, she thought. She quickly packed up her grapple and threw out her heavy cloak, with all of her unneeded kit warped up in it, into a bush below. But soon she froze and instinctively grabbed onto her old dagger, before she could turn around, loud and sharp high heel boots could be heard growing closer, echoing into the nearby hall. She quickly grabbed the strange cloak and hurried herself into one of the booths, closing the curtains behind her. She hastened out of her ragged cloak and put on the strange hooded cloak, within one of the pockets, she found a pair of fine gloves that she immediately put on, they were just a little tight, not enough to be noticeable tho. Soon, the large oak door creaked open and a sultry and confident voice called out into the room. -”Lady Tressed, I got you your boots, please hurry, the party is starting, you don’t want to be late, the most delicious surprise awaits us.” The voice of the woman grew closer. -”She’s gonna find me.” the rogue said to herself. Without a moment of hesitation, she let out a small cough, as if to announce her presence to the unseen woman. -“My apologies my Lady, I shall leave them here and wait outside, but be quick, we will never be done with this feast if you keep making them wait.”, with that, the door once again closed. 

She let out a sigh of relief, but there was no time to waste. She had already come this far and had to make a move. She looked at herself in the mirror, put the hood over her face to conceal her eyes, tied back her long raven hair and washed away some of the dust on her face. Although without any makeup, the rogue’s young age gave her cheeks and lips a youthful redness that all noble women past their prime would envy her for. She took one last look at herself and put on the boots, fortunately they were just her size. Putting on her best aristocratic air of pride and self-sufficiency, she opened the door and entered the hallway. There she met the woman that had brought her the boots. She too wore the same dark hooded cloak, hiding her face above the nose. Her skin was of a shade of white only found in the highest classes of society, white as porcelain, her lips were a deep shade of red and smiled with a playful mischievousness. -”Let us hurry, Tressed, the others are waiting, you’ll be just on time.” She said laughingly. The rogue followed her down the corridor, unfortunately she was being led to the North wing, far from the southern end of the castle where she had heard from the villagers that an incredible treasure was stored. -”I’ll have to find a reason to excuse myself…” she thought to herself.

As the two women entered the dining hall, cheerful lute music filled the air. A cloaked man was playing a ballad on the lute popular amongst the most noble classes of society. “Good to see that Daniel made it in too”. She whispered, reassured that his side of the plan had gone well. She was soon brought to a long wooden table, where a group of 20 or so hooded nobles were drinking a bright red wine from crystal cups. All of them concealing their faces, seemingly also taking part in this masked party. As she arrived, enthusiasm increased, the chatter reached it’s paroxysm and anticipation filled the air. All rose to get a better look at her, all but one figure slouched in their seat unmoving. The lute started playing a more distinguished and official song. The woman, still smiling, gathered the attention of the guests, ringing her glass with a small spoon. “Esteemed guests, please welcome our long awaited Tressed to the dining table.”. The guests clapped and sat down at their seats, a slight haste in their movements betraying excitation. Strangely, none of the hooded nobles at the table directly addressed her, and no one expected a toast or speech from her. It was as if her mere presence satisfied them. The rogue took her seat and reached for her cup of crimson wine to take the edge off and do something with her increasingly sweaty hands. The lute player was now playing an ominous string of long unsettling notes. 

As the contents of her cup approached her lips, the sordid aroma of iron filled her nose, she recoiled back and instinctively gagged. The guests laughed in a chittering cacophony. The woman who had led her into the room, walked around the table. Coming closer to her, seeing her coming closer the rogue passed her hand along her slender leg looking for her dagger. The pale woman stopped behind the man slumped against the back of his chair. -”Well since the feast must soon come to an end, let’s not wait and dig in…”. And with a fluid motion she pushed the figure over, onto the table landing on the side of his face, revealing the white bloodless face beneath the hood. -“DANIEL!” Shrieked the rogue. “Poor Esruoc Niam, he was not the most succulent, but it seems we’ve run out.” The lute player had stopped playing, he placed down Daniel’s lute on the ground and rose from his stool. The rogue turned her head towards the table. -”Now let’s get to the Tressed shall we?”. The pale woman and her guests raised their heads revealing red glowing eyes, sharp teeth and an inhuman mocking thirst. 

The rogue sprung from her seat. The lute player tried to restrain her from behind, but only received a swift kick to his stomach, knocking the creature to the ground. The pale woman hissed through her teeth and drew closer. The frenzied guests were now pushing each other to get to the rogue. The rogue tried to escape but was quickly cornered between the creatures and a large stained glass window. The light of the moon hit the guests, revealing their horrific desires. Instead of leaping for her, the guests arranged themselves in a semi circle around her. The pale woman erupted into a flight of bats, and flew towards the rogue. Materializing herself against her prey, she pinned her to the wall, letting the rogue smell her repugnant breath. She then drew in close for the rogue’s neck, her red eyes widening with hunger and excitation and she uttered these words. “You are mine…”. Suddenly her stare drew distant, her pupils shrunk and she froze. The guests let out a terrible shriek and recoiled back. The rogue took out her dagger, glowing with a pure otherworldly aura from the pale woman’s side and pushed or off her. Panting, heavily the rogue looked down and the creature, writhing in pain, her wound burning and spreading to her side, creeping up her face. As the creature let out unholy screeches and blasphemous curses, the rogue took no time to revel in this macabre spectacle. The guests ravenous and mad with rage leaped towards her and over their dying host. The rogue shielded herself with her cape and jumped through the large stained glass mural behind her. Shards of glass flew past her, she felt only a brief pain. She then landed painfully on the ground, saving herself only with a hastily implemented roll.

The rogue got up, sore from the fall, she ran towards the bush where she had left her gear, she could hear the terrible cries of the famished guests behind her. Dawn was about  to  break, the sun slowly peaked over the horizon. The rogue grabbed her pack, threw it on her back and ran into the woods, looking back over her shoulder, she heard the guests cursing and roaring with anger as the sun broke over the horizon and forced them to retreat into the cursed shadows of their dungeon. The rogue ran as fast as she could, through the bushes, laughing with tears rolling down her odd-colored eyes.