"I am fully aware of the state of our newest recruits," Daquarius snapped. "Criminals, outlaws, exiles, thieves, bandits, men who can't show their faces anywhere else, or only wish to spill blood."
"Which is why we need to-"
"Do you forget that we have tried to take Falador before?" Daquarius cut him off. "Each time we failed. My fool of a predecessor lost his hands before those very walls," he sighed. "If we could retake Falador, we would have done so already. I expected you of all people to know better."
"Each time we attacked Falador, we were the attackers, and the White Knights were defending themselves at full strength," Darcius argued. "But if we lure most of them to fight a battle they cannot win, Falador will be left at a fraction of its power. If you lead an army in from the west, through that breach we were told about, you can take the city and fortify it against the White Knight survivors from the north. This time they will be the ones who fight and die against Falador's walls. My own men can strike them in the rear, and finish them off."
"That might work," Daquarius conceded.
"We might die," Darcius acknowledged, "but we are Zamorakians. It is time to stop lying in dark corners where we will only grow old. We meet our fate with sword in hand, and by the will of Zamorak, we will retake our home."
There was silence for a long time. And then, finally, Daquarius spoke, his voice a low crackle through the crystal. "Get it done."
Beneath the gold, the Bitter Steel.
06-Apr-2019 04:45:56
- Last edited on
06-Apr-2019 04:47:23
by
NotFishing