"Evil people rely on the acquiescence of naive good people to allow them to continue with their evil." -Stuart Aken
Isolde looked down at the Redcloak's base from the eyes of her spirit animal, a snowy owl named Tasmin. The Redcloak's home was full of bustle and activity, some of the people were deep in conversation, others posing as guard. Isolde's lip curled in an almost-snarl. Could they really be called people? These creatures were impersonating the population of Erdas, acting like they could just waltz in and be accepted. The freaks. Well, they had no idea what was coming for them. A man's voice sounded from beside Isolde, who immediately snapped out of her owl's vision. Laird was standing next to her, his black hair slicked back and his dark face silhouetted in front of the moon.
"Anything unusual?" Laird's voice rumbled deeply as if a churning waterfall was inside his chest, or an earthquake. Isolde bowed slightly.
"Nothing out of the ordinary, my lord." Isolde gritted her teeth from her show of respect. She was the captain of a great fighting force, she was supposed to answer to no one. Yet this stranger demanded respect and obedience. She had seen him mercilessly destroy one of his own after he had taken offense from a harmless joke. She didn't want to be in the way of this ruthless man and, after all, he had ideas. Ideas for revenge and fairness. Of ridding Erdas of the Redcloaks, of protecting the land from these monsters.
Laird pulled a silver and bronze pocket watch from the front of his tunic. He ran his finger over the surface as the hands turned in time to his heart, representing the countdown when Erdas would begin to fight back against the unnatural. His face split into a malevolent grin as it ticked onward. So close, so close to total power. Isolde was a weak girl hoping to appear strong. She craved a small fraction of what the world had to offer. Her mind was so focused on something so small. She was, overall, useless. But for now at least, Laird needed her alive. His eyes stared intently at the small clock, and there was a long silence. Then Laird slowly dropped the watch into his pocket with a twisted smile.
"Good."
(I'm actually carrying out one of my ideas! My other story, Halfway, isn't really going to go anywhere. It was more of a way to pass time. I'm actually going to put more of that time into this story. Wish me luck 😉 Hope you enjoy!)
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Fall of the Redcloaks
FantasyFaithful writhed on the ground, white hot pain burning behind her eyes. The Redcloaks, her friends and teammates, watched in dismay. Faithful was just another Redcloak who had to go through this nightmare. The first to go was Stead, leaving everyone...