Tearing Down the Walls of Bron

Tearing Down the Walls of Bron

         
          Hope, determination, and unquenchable thirst for change within a world of disparity are the forces that guide the hands of rebellion. The great tiers of Bron, the upper haven and the lower haven, quarreled at the height an age old conflict. It is safe to say that the brunt of this conflict was inflicted most heavily upon the poor of the lower haven, or the "slums". The people of the dilapidated, decrepit slums were deprived opportunity, fair wages, and food from the fields they labored to till. The rotting wood of hovels would fall to the muddy and waste littered streets below. The overcrowded environment opened doors for the demon that is disease. It was so severe that conditions in the slums could not be identified as "living" conditions. Tolerance of the laborers and peasantry began to fall apart in a similar fashion to the slums themselves. Years ago, riots had become very apparent, and the Baron of Bron, likely under certain influences, decreed that a wall would be constructed through the center of the city. The Baron had high hopes that greater division could quell the violence. Anger in the slums has once again heated tensions to a boiling point, and decades of discontent foreshadowed revolution. Change is imminent, at least in the eyes of those who dream of a world greater than their own, and fight for a cause much larger than themselves.
         

          Footsteps splashed and plunked in the rushing rain water and waste that flowed at great speeds as it is angled downward through the city until exiting into the moats. The sewers of Bron were well known for harboring all manner of miscreants. The citizenry of the upper haven referred to the great network of sewers as "thieves' highway". The sewers evidently lived up to their name considering the amount of robberies that occurred without a single soul of the slums scaling or crossing the center city wall in years, as far as the watch could see. Four men, ragged and furtive, waded through the murky waters. They were clothed in thick wool cloaks of black and green, dabbled in dry mud. Masks of cloth covered their faces below the height of their eyes. The stone of the ledges and walls were slick, glazed, and reflective from the rising moisture. Droplets of condensation echoed throughout the dreary tunnels. The stench of aging waste was sickening. Ever so slowly they crept through the thrashing sewer water. The man ahead of the group was in his early thirties. His name was Burly, and he was the premier authority of the four of them. Suddenly, he came to a dead halt and leapt a great distance for a rusty latter upon the slippery sewer wall. He climbed out of the leaden water soaked with no discomfort. The three others followed without questioning as they had done this several times before; the operation was routine, but this time, it was different.

         Burly placed his hand carefully upon the sewer grate above him. Shedding rust flurried atop his cowl. He lifted the grate cautiously and took a peek out into the cobblestone dimly lit street. They were below the haven of the rich folk...and in the presence of House Oberon, the house of oppression. An aristocrat by the name of Geoffrey Oberon had established the upper haven syndicate. It poses as an organization of honest tradesmen and various guild masters; under the surface it's quite the opposite. For forty years Geoffrey Oberon and his constituents tormented the lower classes. They've made constant arrests upon innocents and have ordered indecent amounts of executions, leaving families with nothing, forcing them to survive on the streets penniless and starving. Oberon takes no consideration for the lower haven, offering no capital for its benefit, in turn, allowing the lower haven to fall to disrepair. For decades the Order of Lorcan, the makeshift governing organization of the lower haven, has hunted him, bitterly discovering failure in each attempt of assassination. He is powerful man with a lot of friends, and powerful men are well guarded. A stumbling drunk individual lumbered out of a tavern only a number of yards down the lane. He was wealthy and very well dressed with the finest of silk fabrics.
These pretentious snobs are nothing they presume to be thought Burly to himself scowling.Gradually Burly closed the ajar grate without a sound until the drunken man could be heard no more. He then reopened the grate and ascended out of the hole unheard and unseen. The hour was late and most rich folk were fast asleep, so Burly and his crew hadn't had much to worry about. The streets were humid, and an occasional warm breeze passed every few moments. Chimes rattled and jingled as the air streamed throughout the avenues like wind through a flute.

         Burly was exceptionally quick, an efficient climber, and one of the few most renowned thieves in all of Bron. He had a considerably thick mahogany beard and mustache, complimented by a broad pair of angry eyebrows. The rich referred to him as "the larcenist". His true identity to them remained a maddening mystery. He was known to be a serious man when on the job, though back home in the slums, he is the king of comedy and a friend to all. He is adored by his people, and forever bound to his faithful followers in which he cares for perpetually, putting his life at risk whenever need be for the sake of others. With agile facility Burly rolled from the cobblestone street into a slim alley way. The remainder of his crew performed the same motion in impeccable order. Burly waited for any sudden noise and placed his hand on a low lying windowsill. He turned his head toward his crew slightly but did not make eye contact. He did not whisper, yet his voice was at the tone of a soft calming hum.
         "It's time we make a change in this city... one that is substantial. Let's get that gate open. Loran's forces are awaiting entry at our signal. Hauk, you will be firing the shot just as the gate begins to open understand?"
         Hauk nods; he is the marksman of the group, the keenest eye in all of Bron, and a vital asset.
         "I want this done with no alert from the city watch. Deal those who stand in your way in absolute silence, we cannot allow the city guard to take note of the operation before it is completed. We have one task; let's get it done". There was a pause as Burleys' crew nodded obediently and determined. "Let's move".
         Like a cat with flawless dexterity Burly began to climb upward towards the rooftops. Stone by stone, and window by window he climbed without a sound. Painlessly he hoisted himself over the overhang and reached the shackles of the roof top. The rest of the crew reached the roof with equal prowess. Burly crouched beside the edge and pointed toward the gate house which was not too far from their location. Without speech or any further instruction he edged back a few paces for a running start and leapt a length of ten feet to the next structure. Before each jump he would attentively scan the street below for any signs of movement or activity. The crew makes it smoothly across four more rooftops until the wall is within only a few yards distance. Between them and the wall was roughly a twelve foot jump; nothing they could not handle. In unison they vaulted the gap and planted their feet on the side, gripping the edges tightly with their fingers. With much practice their fingers were able to withstand the tension, allowing them to hang for up to thirty minutes. The four of them pressed their bodies flat against the wall as footsteps were heard emerging from a watch tower on to the causeway. They were as muted as darkness itself and their breaths were held as the city watchman sauntered past. His head was focused to the left as he peered out into the slums. Once he had entered the next watch tower Burly and his crew pulled up onto the wall causeway. They tiptoed in crouched position to the door less watch tower entrance.

Burly and his crew member Serge took position on either side of the door. Burly tossed a coin through the entrance way. It rattled and rotated upon the stone floor as it landed. The coin was an honorary membership coin of the syndicate. Burly had acquired it from a well known merchant in the city. Burly felt it to be good luck, it was as if the head of Oberon was already in his hands. The golden face of Oberon bounced and rotated, glinting in the torch light before coming to a resonant stop on the cold the stone.
         "What was that...did you hear that?" said one of the watchmen scanning the small space alertly.
         "Nah, what is it?" replied the other watchman descending down the thin stairway from the tower top.
         "Hold on"
         As the watchman exited the entrance way of watch tower, Burly cupped his mouth and pulled him aside. One swift twist of the watchman's jaw followed by a snap brought about his death. The watchman went limp. Burly allowed him to fall from the wall to the alley below. He struck the ground with a loud clanking thud.
         " Garrett" said the other watchman.
         As the next watchman entered the doorway quickly, serge grabbed him by his cuirass and forced him to the ground with a single powerful shove.
         "Hey He-!" shouted the guard in terror.
         Before the guard could speak again Serge's dagger blade was thrust in his chest. Burly entered moments after the watchman was finished. They were just above the main gate house now.
         " Hauk lets go, now's the time" said Burly, stern and collected.
         Burly and his other crewman Walker began turning the crank that opened and closed the gate. The chains rattled and clanked as the mechanism turned. Burly could hear the thick oaken gate below beginning to open. It creaked heavily as it extended outward. Hauk immediately began climbing the wooden ladder to the watch tower roof. One of his arrow tips he had been carrying was rapped with cloth and soaked in animal fat. He allowed the cloth arrow tip to engulf in flame by igniting it using the embers of a nearby torch sconce. Proudly Hauk notched an arrow, pulled back with all his strength...and fired the shot straight into the air. It gleamed as it rose higher and higher into the sky. Hundreds upon hundreds of shouts and roars of rebellious slum folk thundered piercingly below, extending out into the slums. Without warning doors began slamming open and hordes of ill equipped rebels stormed the gateway. The majority of rebels were unarmored, if not wearing light leather. They were armed with farm tools, makeshift spears, and short swords. They toppled market stalls and knocked over barrels; they smashed windows and kicked down doors, looting the homes of the rich as they entered by the dozens! Burly and his crew looked on in satisfaction. Lord Lorcan, leader of the Lorcan order of the slums and the operation, was the first to enter the gate way. He turned and held his hand high with excitement towards Burly who watched from the watch tower window.
         "Destruction to Oberon, let us take this city in the name of Lorcan!!" he cried with joy and enmity.
         The watchmen within the street, dazed and fearful, began to fall back and condense in to a large group at the end of the main road that travelled from the gate to the castle courtyard. A few attempted to remain but were swarmed by crowds of rioting beggars. A group of watchmen began to form a shield wall, cutting down Lorcan's forces as they charged forward in huge mass. Cries and screams were heard forcing Burly and his crew to act promptly. Hauk called down to Burly from the watch tower roof.
         "Burly, watchmen on the walls, look!"
         Emerging from the adjacent tower down the causeway were a group of guards firing scores of arrows down upon the hordes of rebels. Their raucous twangs could be heard from Burly's position. With a shot to the thigh Hauk had taken out one of the archers; he stumbled and fell from the wall. Rebels swarmed him slashing and stabbing as he landed. The guards fell back into the tower though continued to fire and cut down rebels. Burly, Walker and Serge sprinted along the cause way and entered the next tower. Burly wrested a watchman's bow from his hand and struck him in the nose hard; there was no hesitation as Burly finished him off with his dagger. The next watchman swung at Walker with his long sword and missed only by inches as Walker evaded. He hurled the watchman to the tower wall with great velocity. Serge entered to see the final watchman approaching behind Walker. Before Burly could act Serge had him in a gripping and strenuous headlock. The watchmen gasped and attempted to speak but could not as he had no breath. Serge clutched even tighter until the watchman fell silent. By then he allowed the man to drop. Burly raced to the watch tower roof and his crew followed anxiously. Racing to the edge he faced the castle.
         "Well take the roof tops to the castle where we shall continue the fight alongside Lord Lorcan. Keep up."
         Burly made the jump for the nearest roof top; the race for the final stage of the operation had begun. Lorcan's forces were only thirty paces from the castle dour by then. As Burly and the crew traveled, chaos was rabid throughout the streets below. Supplies were being smashed and innocents were cut down as they attempted to defend their homes. The ever expanding anger of the slum inhabitance had been released upon the upper haven in a single night. Swords clashed below, and more and more watchman began to fall back to the castle; many were chased down and captured by rebel forces. Homes and vending stalls were looted completely. Blood ran cold through the city streets, staining the cobblestone. Rebellious cries of compulsion were heard throughout the streets of the upper haven. A tightly packed crowd of two hundred or so rebels clambered before the castle. Burly and his crew lowered themselves down by drain pipe at the nearest home. Eagerly they joined the crowd, squeezing their way through the enraged horde in attempts to reach Lorcan at the front. Only a number of feet ahead of the crowd were thirty or so guards, lining the castle wall. Burly and the group managed to shuffle through to the head of the crowd. Burly stood beside Lorcan, who wore his famous green attire and feathered hat. His sword was drawn toward the watchmen's line. He noticed Burly beside him and shook his hand firmly.
         "Let us finish this Burly, Bron castle will belong to the Order of Lorcan!"
         "What about Oberon?"
         "I want Oberon alive. Take your men and find him wherever he hides and detain him until I'm able to deal with him. Well handle these naives; meet me in the castle courtyard when this is over. Bring me Oberon, do not fail me boy".
         "Understood. Let's go." Burly commanded to his crew.
         Lorcan watched as Burly and his men clambered to the roof tops. After jumping a few more shackled roofs, Burly stop and eyed an ideal dark location on a strut of the castle wall; perfect for unnoticed entry. Smoke from roaring bonfires in the streets permeated the alley ways below and then arose towards the rooftops passing Burly. Burly had a strong feeling Oberon was somewhere inside, cowering like a dog.
          "So what's the plan?" Serge questioned
         "On second thought, all of you, report back to Lorcan and guard him with your life. If he dies, the morale of the revolt is crushed. Go now quickly" directed Burly.
         Burly quickly averted his attention back toward the castle wall. The crew complied after a moment of contemplation until Serge turned before proceeding for the main force gathered at the castle gate.          
"Were not leaving you Burly".
         Burly placed his hand on Serge's shoulder and looked to him earnestly. "I have to do this alone, were to easily identifiable as a group, now go, you'll be fine... no matter what happens, things are going to change for the better my friend". Serge hesitantly turned his attention to the castle and then back toward the rioting crowd in the distance.
         "Good luck sir." With that final statement Serge was gone.
         Burly made a great dive for the wall. He planted his feet with high impact upon one of the wall struts sloppily, nearly plunging to his death as he lost balance for a moment. He looked to his right to see the count of Bron and a crowd of watchmen making their way up the stone steps of the wall in attempts to calm Lorcan and his forces. Then the humming of a faint voice lingered in Burly's left ear. From a brightly illuminated fenestral on one of the bastions directly behind him, Burly could make out shadows flickering about the walls of the room within. Burly scaled the tower face using a few mossy jutting stones in order to get a closer view and eavesdrop on the conversation. The voice he heard was aged and prominent. It was Oberon, just as he had suspected; it had to be Oberon. Burly peaked inside though the thin fenestral opening. Oberon stood lecturing his personal heavily armored guard in his decorative white robe. They were discussing some sort of plan of escape from Bron. For a moment Oberon approached the fenestral and laid his hand upon the edge looking down upon Lorcan's forces. He looked to be in his sixties, and his hair was a very light gray. This was Oberon; Burly had never before come this close to the man. As Oberon turned around and returned to lecturing his guard, Burly noticed a balcony looking out to the landscape on the opposite end of the room. He pondered his plan of action, though there was no possibility of getting Oberon out of there alive! Burly thought for another minute without any conclusive solution to his predicament; he took a deep breath and accepted his soon to be met fate.

          Burly slid inside through the fenestral, eyeing Oberon and his position on the balcony! The guards barked at him frantically the words "Lorcan!" They darted forward with their swords and flails in hand. There were too many, Burly would have no escape; not this time. Time slowed for Burly. All fear and hesitation had been washed from his mind and body at that very moment. That single moment, consisting of only a few hastened steps, was so lucid and surreal. Charging forward with thoughts freedom for his people racing through his mind, he made a mad dash for Oberon! Burly was too quick, the guards were to his rear. Burly's focus was temporarily interrupted as Oberon's personal bodyguard stepped between him and his target, alas his stride did not slow. Instinctively with a single swipe of his arm, Burly had managed to gasp the dagger that rested on his belt. Like a shard of shattered glass the blade whipped and cut through the air. Avoiding plate and mail, the dagger sunk into his neck. The body collapsed at arm's length between Burly and Oberon. Oberon had not even a single second to react. Burly picked him up by his waist and tackled him over the stone barrier on the balcony after forcing him a number of feet. In silence and disbelief, Oberon fell to a gruesome death upon the rocks and mucky moat below. It was instantaneous death as he collided with the jagged boulders. Burly...plummeted alongside him. A watery grave waited impatiently below.

         Back at the castle courtyard the rebels had breached the gate. Lorcan led the charge alongside Burl'ys crew and the horde of fearsome rebels. Watchmen and peasantry clashed all the way into the great hall of the Baron who relinquished his sword in disgraceful surrender. The banners of Bron, golden banners bearing the black eagle, were torn down. Victory was at hand. The people of the lower haven rejoiced.
         Along the center wall of the city were an amassment of petard barrels and sacks of combustion powder. This moment had been in long anticipation, requiring months of preparation. The rebels put in place the last of barrels and powder. A single torch ignited the chain of explosions. The wall cracked and crumbled. Rubble, debris, and stony dust covered the surrounding villas and homes. The echos of the great rumbling explosions were clearly audible for miles, sending forth a compelling exclamation that uttered the word, "freedom".

         Out of the mucky moat below the balcony, an exhausted hand gripped the soft dirt and loose tufts of grass along its bank. Out of the water arose a man with a wide smile in the light of the blast....that leveled the walls of Bron.