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Events of the 8th of Slate, 1091
Kodor waited pensively. He had issued orders to the squads that the situation be contained before it could get out of control, although Olon had seemed less than pleased.
His brother wanted a fight it seemed, and Kodor had ordered him against it. He was quite aware, however, that it was only a possibility that the order would actually be followed through. The soldiers here were nearly suicidally loyal to him.
So he'd taken his own steps. The Fortress and Royal guards were all scouring the fortress for Xotes, and Melica was busy getting the children into safekeeping. It was sure to be enough, he didn't know why he was so concerned... Kobold thieves couldn't escape this fortress undetected, how could a farmer girl?
As pensive as the dwarves were, the Soulsmith was vastly more so. He sat upon his flaming throne, attempting to discern the lost future from the shadows that remained.
It hadn't been enough, he was sure. Despite all his preparation, it hadn't been enough.
And this time the dwarves were ready.
He scowled. It seemed that his hand was forced, he would have to expend yet more energy just to overwhelm these mortals. And if, somehow, that failed, he would likely never walk the mortal planes again.
He returned to his observations of the mortal world above. The Acolyte had best fulfil her mission.
Xotes ran, her heart pounding in her chest. She thanked the Soulsmith that this passage had been forgotten in the haste to close up the fortress.
The alert hadn't been all bad, though. The barracks were empty, and its stockpiles unguarded. She had been able to procure a pick and find her way to the rumoured secret passage that led from the fortress to a remote location. With the guards looking for her all over, she hoped that they had neglected to post a dwarf here.
The tunnel had been quiet, almost oppressively so, and she was glad to see the end of it. This was it! Outside beckoned, and not a guard in sight!
She permitted herself a hopeful smile. Maybe she'd actually pull this off!