The griffon carried it’s rider onward through the chill air, flapping it’s wings every so often. Looking over the side, the rider spied an area with fortifications. An inn, keep, and forge; also other supporting buildings. With a nudge, he directed the griffon to land nearby.

Dismounting and giving the griffon an affectionate pat, he looked around. No torches were burning to light the way, and no one, not even guard patrols seemed evident. His eyes narrowed slightly, and he made his way to the keep entrance.

With the portcullis closed, there seemed to be no obvious way in. Looking through the bars, the rider saw no one. No signs that anyone stayed here. Letting out a soft grunt, he strode back to the griffon. Pointing at the ramparts, he instructed it to let him down there. Inspecting the cannons, he drew a finger down the side of one. Looking at his finger, he shook his head slightly as in disapproval.

Moving on, the soft sound of his hooves the only indicator of anyone present, he heads down a flight of stairs and turns to his left. Reaching the courtyard, he looks around for any sign of recent habitation. Finding none, he sighs. Turning back, he mounts the stairs upwards to the meeting hall. His eyes shine softly in the darkened room, providing enough light to navigate by and such. Stepping to the long, large table that takes up one side, he spies parchments left there. He picks one up and reads, his lips moving slightly. Dropping it with an air of disappointment, he leafs through others there in the pile. One captures his attention, and he reads. Slowly slumping into the chair near him, he ignores the dust stirred up as he continues reading. Tossing it aside, he looks vacantly into the darkness for a long moment. A smirk slowly crosses his face and reaching into the desk’s drawers, he finds a sealed inkwell. Breaking the seal and writing quickly, he puts the quill down and nods. A loud screech shatters the stillness, and he moves quickly out of the office and back up the stairs. The griffon that was the draenei’s escort paced agitatedly and had sounded the alarm, he surmised. A patrol was approaching. Swiftly he mounted and with a quiet word they leaped into the air and flapped away, quickly gaining speed.

Author Acele
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