Chapter 12

It had been going on for two days, One side spearheading a stab at their enemies defenses, another replying with a troupe of attackers. The kitchen and pantries were on the border, in there, was a war zone. Corthain, donning his Hawk armor was on food duty, he had a sack slung across his back and a grin across his face. Creeping up to the first un-raided kitchen cabinet, he eased it open and with a sweep of the arm, slung it all into his sack. He did the same with the next cabinet and the next, soundlessly all the way. Then, he stopped, he crouched and listened to the room. There was a small creaking noise, cans clanking,  "It must be coming from the pantry room." he thought to himself, he climbed over the scattered pots and pans and reached for the door to the bountiful cornucopia of a room. He creaked it open and slipped inside, while slipping his body through the door, he slipped a dagger into his free hand. Creeping up onto the imperial guards figure, he quickly shoved the dagger's hilt onto the mans forehead and backed up. the man crumpled to the ground. Corthain picked up the bag of food that the man was carrying, slung it over his back. then picked up the man with his dagger hand. Heaving under the weight, he hurriedly stumbled his way back, back, back, to the makeshift blockades, spreading food, energy, and power as he walked. When he reached the banquet hall, or now the main rebel room, he dumped the remainder of the two sacks on the table. He laid the man down on a clear spot on the once great long table and heaved a sigh of relief. His job was done, he walked back to the barracks, took off his armor and fell onto his bed. Sleep.