Bellra was getting very close to her due-date, and Vildrin stilled waged war across the world. Athrin and Thaygo were almost the leaders of the entire group. So as the others sat around in their cell, Athrin and Thaygo devised a plan. The whole thing was thought out carefully with even the tiniest of details noted. Their plan involved a dimwitted warden, a few of the prison warlocks, swiftness, and the simple ways of betrayal.

Athrin’s and Thaygo’s plan was to tell lies to the prison warlocks. For example, “I saw your wife, Ulgra, having a serious affair with Crith’em!”

It was both a mischievous and cunning plan, but it was certainly going to work.

Athrin and Thaygo told the rest of the group their plan, and they loved it. Allos and Fallos wanted to try it out first.

Together they said to a warlock, “Hey! Iredwell! We heard that Grothtoll thinks that he should be the warden, AND NOT YOU!” Since they knew all of the warlock names, this would be simple.

“Do you really think that?” asked Iredwell to Grothtoll, in a stuttered tone.

“What?! This is complete rubbish that these filthy twins are talkin’ about!” hollered Grothtoll, in a tone of guilt. “I say we kill em’ right now!”

“No!” called Barrowm, tottering down the stone steps to the top of the tower. “You know you can’t do that.”

Barrowm had slimy, brown hair that was slicked back. He had a stout nose that was slightly squished against his face and he had thin lips with yellowing teeth behind them.

“Warden Barrowm!” exclaimed Grothtoll. “Its been a while since we’ve seen you. Being warden must be very hard work.” As Grothtoll said this, he stepped forward towards Barrowm in a menacing pace in his dark cloak. “You should take a break, lie down for a little, someone could take that heavy load off your shoulders.”

“Grothtoll,” said Iredwell. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talkin’ about sympathy.” said Grothtoll. “So old Barrowm can go to sleep. Barrowm, you wanna go to sleep?”

“Yes,” said Barrowm. “I think I do. AND YOU CAN SLEEP TOO!” With that, Barrowm pulled out his glimmering blade, and Grothtoll got in his casting stance. “NO ONE’S GOING TO BE IN THE POSITION OF WARDEN, ONLY ME, FOR I HEARD YOUR ENTIRE CONVERSATION!” Barrowm swung his sword down on Grothtoll, who in turn, cast a shield upon this body.

“You foolish man!” yelled Grothtoll. “Don’t you know that Remnoth’s power will never overcome?! Your precious city is dead!”

“Don’t you dare talk to your superior that way!” shouted Barrowm, parrying and thrusting his sword at the same time. “It was where I was born! It was where my memories were made, and you dare cast it away like a leaf in the wind!” Grothtoll sent a bolt of fire at Barrowm, setting his cape ablaze. Barrowm quickly clipped it off.

“My mind has been tortured unlike you!” roared Barrowm. “My deepest, worst fears within my nightmares, became real! I was in pain, my own master had betrayed me! But I cannot do anything about it, for my inner body has been chained to a dark, cold wall of misery, and my shackles burn my wrists as my hatred for Vildrin grows stronger! You have not seen the pain and suffering I have seen! You are just a stupid, dimwitted warlock, that tails behind Vildrin like a pointless shadow!” He swung his sword down ferociously several times, each time being blocked by Grothtoll’s great sorcery. “Your own downfall will be the betrayal of your own intellect!” This time, Barrowm’s aim of the blade was true, and it struck straight through Grothtoll’s spell, for he had not been quick enough, and into his chest. Grothtoll fell to his knees. Barrowm pulled off Grothtoll’s hood, revealing black, greasy hair, a sunken face, a pointed nose, and black eyes. Grothtoll stared into the pupils of Barrowm, his killer, and he fell dead, a red stain beginning to form around his chest.

Iredwell came up behind Barrowm and struck his scalp with the butt of a knife. Barrowm fell, unconcious, and Iredwell cackled away, but being a foolish warlock, he tripped over Grothtoll’s body, fell down, and a loud thunk was heard from his forehead hitting the stone floor. A puddle of blood began to form around his head, and his eyes were open, and his breathing had stopped. All was silent, except Athrin holding a bone he found in the cell, reaching out through the cage, with a chain of tinkling keys on the end emitting from Barrowm’s pocket.

All according to plan.