Netheryn
05-17-2007, 12:20 PM
The manor was an old one, even before the Scourge had swept over the land destroying everything. The air was stale, the remaining furniture dusty, and the roof sagged in several places. Heavy rain caused water to trickle down and several colonies of mold had started to work their way up the stained, stone walls.
The manor had once been a place of light and noise, the center of a wealthly merchant family's life. The many affairs of business had meant many visitors, always coming and going. The Master and Madam had had many children too, six to be exact, and the sounds of their mischief and play had echoed throughout the halls. Once.
Now the only light came from the few torches which burned in the brakets upon the walls. The only sounds were those of the slow, shuffling steps of the silent steward echoing through the empty coorridors as he went about his tasks.
The masters of the manor were gathered tonight, the council chambers barred from the inside. Dark times had come, rumors of battles in the very streets of several Horde cities. Conflict loomed on the horizon.
The silent steward waited by the doors, ready to do his masters' bidding the second he was called. Slowly the door swung open, revealing the interior of the council chambers. The steward stepped foward looking from one heir to the other trying to read the look on each face. As usual they revealed nothing of their intent or of the subject of the council.
Netheryn looked to Sabachthan and gave a nod. Sabachthan spoke, "Steward, gather the House. We're going for a...an outting, let us say."
The steward bowed his head in silent assent and twisted his ruined features into the parody of a smile. He could feel the approaching storm. It felt like vengeance.
The manor had once been a place of light and noise, the center of a wealthly merchant family's life. The many affairs of business had meant many visitors, always coming and going. The Master and Madam had had many children too, six to be exact, and the sounds of their mischief and play had echoed throughout the halls. Once.
Now the only light came from the few torches which burned in the brakets upon the walls. The only sounds were those of the slow, shuffling steps of the silent steward echoing through the empty coorridors as he went about his tasks.
The masters of the manor were gathered tonight, the council chambers barred from the inside. Dark times had come, rumors of battles in the very streets of several Horde cities. Conflict loomed on the horizon.
The silent steward waited by the doors, ready to do his masters' bidding the second he was called. Slowly the door swung open, revealing the interior of the council chambers. The steward stepped foward looking from one heir to the other trying to read the look on each face. As usual they revealed nothing of their intent or of the subject of the council.
Netheryn looked to Sabachthan and gave a nod. Sabachthan spoke, "Steward, gather the House. We're going for a...an outting, let us say."
The steward bowed his head in silent assent and twisted his ruined features into the parody of a smile. He could feel the approaching storm. It felt like vengeance.