The grey clouds covering the sky were illuminated orange by the sun as it slowly approached the horizen. A wooden pavilion stood solomly in the green field near where a short cliff fell into the bay of Ciega. Water splashed against the cliff; waves formed by the slight breeze and the wake thrown up passing ships.
The guests were about to arrive. Aneron and Tienzel had been there for hours readying the pavilion for the events about to take place. They had placed fresh torches in the scones, arranged the tables, covered the floors with sweet smelling reeds, and had hung the banners. An orange griffin rampant on a scarlet field hung behind the high table, a white unicorn couchant on a purple field and a golden dragon standant on green, both faced in from the seaward side, while a red eagle guardant on an asure field overlooked the tables from land. 1
This was a special occasion. Tonight was Tienzel's coronation. In a few hours she would be Queen.
Vonkar approached. He was dressed in his fancy red tunic and carried an iron pot, enameled green. That pot had seen the coronation of every monarch of Anfalas and now held Vonkar's "Beef and vegetables in orange-ginger sauce," which he hoped would be to the liking of tonight's guests.
"Good evening your magesty. Where shall I put this?"
"On that table." Vonkar set his pot down, and then helped Aneron and Tienzel finish decorating.
"I call upon the darkness to cover my escape! Nocturna!" And with those words the tourches and candles were extinguished, leaving the pavilion dark. He ran off, dragging Queen Tienzel with him, their bodies siloetted in the moonlight.
Tristin, who had retained the Queen's sword after the ceremony, jumped on the nearest horse and yelled, "Don't worry, I'll save her! Vonkar! Arm the warriers and follow me!" He galloped after them.
Bret's character cried after him, "Tristin! NO! You'll never find them in the dark!"2 But it was too late; they were gone.
2 His actual words were, "Tristin! No! Wait! You don't have infravision!"
3 There may be some sort of copywrite on this of which I am unaware. Untill then, consider this copywrite 1999, by Erik Hart.
4 This was one of the best roleplaying moments I have ever had. Marching into almost certain death with my comrades, all joined together in a chant proclaiming eternal life.