Flight from Rohan RPG - The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum

Dain Ironfoot · 07-18-2003, 11:16 AM

1 day later

Fréa walked purposefully over to the window that faced the northern side of the main hall, the room where the guards stayed when they weren't patrolling the cells in which the prisoners actually stayed. Leaning over the ledge and peering out between the heavy bars, he had a good vantage point from which to view the courtyard. The sight brought a wry smile to his lips.

In the dim moonlight, immediately adjacent to the prison, he could make out a wooden scaffolding that had been erected that afternoon to prepare for the execution slated to take place at dawn. The noose hung limp and empty with steps leading up to the central platform on which the condemned man would be asked to stand. A thick rope had been strung about to cordon off the area and make sure that any curious onlookers would keep their distance to permit the soldiers to carry out their task. A single piece of cloth had been tossed haphzardly down on a nearby bench; the executioner would use this to bind Haldór's eyes.

It was only a matter of hours until the square would fill with people and the guards would escort the murderer to his deserved punishment. Only a little while till Fréa could breath a sigh of relief and go about his regular business again.

Fréa cocked his head suspiciously towards the cells; for a moment he thought he heard a suspicious noise almost like the rustling of clothing or the sound of muffled footsteps. But, when he went and hastily unlocked the heavy gate, all was quiet and peaceful. Fréa yawned and stretched. It had been a long day, and he could certainly use some sleep. But there was no way he would relax his vigilence even for a second. Too much hung on the events of the next few hours.

He took his sword out of its scabbard and laid it across his knees, sitting alert and wide awake on the bench beside the door. With only a single torch to light the tunnel, he peered out into the semi-darkness, listening for any suspicious noises and scanning the southern wall for any movement of shadows. Yet still, all was silent and unmoving.

[ July 18, 2003: Message edited by: Dain Ironfoot ]

07-18-2003, 11:16 AM	#1
Dain Ironfoot Haunting Spirit Join Date: Jan 2003 Posts: 77	1 day later Fréa walked purposefully over to the window that faced the northern side of the main hall, the room where the guards stayed when they weren't patrolling the cells in which the prisoners actually stayed. Leaning over the ledge and peering out between the heavy bars, he had a good vantage point from which to view the courtyard. The sight brought a wry smile to his lips. In the dim moonlight, immediately adjacent to the prison, he could make out a wooden scaffolding that had been erected that afternoon to prepare for the execution slated to take place at dawn. The noose hung limp and empty with steps leading up to the central platform on which the condemned man would be asked to stand. A thick rope had been strung about to cordon off the area and make sure that any curious onlookers would keep their distance to permit the soldiers to carry out their task. A single piece of cloth had been tossed haphzardly down on a nearby bench; the executioner would use this to bind Haldór's eyes. It was only a matter of hours until the square would fill with people and the guards would escort the murderer to his deserved punishment. Only a little while till Fréa could breath a sigh of relief and go about his regular business again. Fréa cocked his head suspiciously towards the cells; for a moment he thought he heard a suspicious noise almost like the rustling of clothing or the sound of muffled footsteps. But, when he went and hastily unlocked the heavy gate, all was quiet and peaceful. Fréa yawned and stretched. It had been a long day, and he could certainly use some sleep. But there was no way he would relax his vigilence even for a second. Too much hung on the events of the next few hours. He took his sword out of its scabbard and laid it across his knees, sitting alert and wide awake on the bench beside the door. With only a single torch to light the tunnel, he peered out into the semi-darkness, listening for any suspicious noises and scanning the southern wall for any movement of shadows. Yet still, all was silent and unmoving. [ July 18, 2003: Message edited by: Dain Ironfoot ]