Prologue
The dining hall was filled to the brim with people - mostly drunken men of high status. The king was hosting a feast to welcome the beginning of spring, and after the harshest winter on record, it was a joyful sight, seeing the tulips in bloom.
Upstairs, though, wasn't such a happy place. A new captain had recently been promoted into the order of the White Knights of Falador, and he was receiving his duties.
The head of the whole operation leaned back in his chair, stroking the skin atop his head where hair had once been. He had managed to keep some of it: whispy, pathetic strangs of hair just as shining and white as the platebody he wore.
In front of him stood a man. A younger, leaner man whom still had hair and hadn't had the time to develop worry wrinkles or frown lines. Frowning, though, was something this young man loved to do. He hadn't been promoted to captian through good will and charity, the old man knew that for sure.
"We've lost six captains in the last five years," the old man said. "It'd look bad on our record to lose another."
The young captain nodded. "I plan on doing all I can to catch this criminal...Vansetti."
The old man stroked his chin. It's a shame, what age does to a man. Once a vigorous youth, the general found it harder and harder to keep up with the crime. With his hair migrating South, he'd been looking for a replacement, and this young captain that stood before him seemed much too stubborn to do the job.
The general had a five o'clock shadow. In his wisdom, he'd noticed that the more hair he lost atop his head, the faster it grew from his ears, nose and chin. Maybe he'd grow a beard and add a little mystique to his already impressive appearance.
"And what do you plan to do differently, Captain Wood?" The old general's voice was gruff after years of fulfilling his fancy to smith. The furnace smoke can do work on one's lungs.
10-Jan-2010 03:37:56
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15-Jul-2010 16:55:42
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