On a clear night, just outside a castle basking in the light of the full moon, about six or seven people are in the shadows of a few trees that are in front of the castle walls. On the castle walls, about twelve archers parade. They are humanoid in form but are very similar to Orcs and Trolls in appearance and are partially covered in armor. They are called Egorks. Almost simultaneously, they are all shot dead. Immediately after, four hooks are fired towards the top of the wall and sits well. Connected to them, are ropes as tall as the castle and strong enough to hold at least two people. Then almost immediately, four people come out of the shadows and run towards the wall. From the way they moved, it was easy to tell that this wasn't their first time, quite swiftly but no one outpaced the other. There were three men and a woman, all within the ages of twenty-two to twenty-six years judging from their appearances and were all suited differently. One is carrying a bow and four quivers filled with arrows, another with a big axe at his back, another has two swords dangling on both sides of his belt but the female has no visible weapon on her and it would seem they all were carrying smaller weapons in their armless hoods.
As they get to the wall, they all begin to climb on the rope each but this time not at equal paces. The archer gets to the top first, then the man with the swords, then the lady, then the big guy with the axe. The archer and the one with swords run in opposite directions to the other two as they find their way down the wall. As they get to the ground, they disperse.
The swordsman has already found his way into the castle chambers passing all the Egork guards. At this time, his hood is on. He unlocks a door leading to a room with a pin only to find it empty.
In disappointment, "Not here then. I guess Rickon was right this time." He says, as he locks the door and attempts to sneak back out, though this time he is not so lucky.
He is spotted by some of the guards and immediately takes to his heels while making as little sound as possible. The worst is far from over though as he meets a group of Egorks. One of them seems quite different from the rest indicating he might be the leader of the pack. He is holding a young boy, probably not more than twelve years of age by his collar.
"Well what do we have here? Fate has finally brought you to me, Atlan Deharas." the Egork says.
Atlan, not really pleased with what lies before him simply sighs before saying, "Momor! I'd really like to chat and reminisce about old times. Like that time with your jaw."
He notices a stitch on Momor's face. "Ha! I see you've sewn it together," Atlan says in pretense of happiness or surprise.
Atlan was aware that he'd have to fight his way through, no matter what he said. So why be nice? He might as well have some fun now while figuring a way out of this fix.
"How about you let the prince and I go, and I'll just pretend like I was never here. That way, I don't have kill everyone," Atlan says with a grin.
"You flatter yourself, Atlan. There are over a hundred Egorks here, how do you intend to get out?" Momor replies with an evil smirk on his face.
"So that's a no?" Atlan says in disappointment. "Such a shame. And here I was hoping I wouldn't have to soil my sword with the blood of a hundred Egorks." He teases.
"I have an idea!" Momor says with a brightened face. "How about you face my champion in a one on one combat?"
Atlan is unfazed.
"Unarmed!" Momor continues, hoping to get Atlan to show a disturbing expression.
But Atlan is confident. He has killed many Egorks unarmed on many occasions and he didn't see how this would be any different. One on one combat was a joke to him. He'd defeat a fully armed Egork with nothing more than a fork in a matter of moments.
"To the death!"
But this time, Atlan has a puzzled expression on his face.
"What am I supposed to do, beat him to death? I have to say, that's a bit too brutal, even for you," Atlan replies, still bewildered by Momor's suggestion.
"With your hands tied behind your back!"
Momor could barely contain his laugh this time. He knows that Atlan's pride will make him accept whatever condition he set, no matter how unfavorable. As long as he staked something that Atlan wanted. But he could never have predicted that expression on Atlan's face. Total bewilderment.
"What?" Atlan says, still trying to process what he just heard.
"For the prince," Momor replies.
"Wouldn't your master be mad if you lost the prince so cheaply?"
"Cheaply? Well that is if you win."
Atlan sighs. It's such a bother to fight with such a handicap. He'd have to be making a lot of movements and this, Atlan always tries to avoid.
"You should have just told the guy you don't want work with him anymore. Why go for the dramatics, by giving him a humiliating death? Anyway, where is he?"
A very large Egork approaches him with a very large axe.
"Great", Atlan says, much to his displeasure.