This is something I wrote a while ago while I was still playing http://shrubtech.dyndns.org:8080/rcq/. I wish I had saved more of what was written there, sadly the forums were not archived between resets and I thought nothing of the RP that was flushed down the drain each season as we kept writing more. Now of course I'm kicking myself.

But this is at least a little bit that I saved.

Azmonkhail shivered in the chill morning air, staring nervously up at the noose swinging idly from the tall gallows above him. His chains clinked as he shifted from one paw to another, the burly weasel guard shoved him sharply in the back with his spear butt.
“Stop that youse, we don’t want none of yer trickery.” He grinned maliciously, revealing his few broken and yellowed teeth remaining in his head. “Anyways it won’t matter come dawn, then yew’ll be fisbait.” Chuckling raucously the weasel stamped off to the guardhouse to warm himself at the fire. Azmonkhail stared nervously at the lightening sky around him, although all was obscured by a dense sea fog. There was no where to run. He was on Elonsat’s island fortress Alkwrstra, just off the north coast of Arcana. When the fog lifted the mainland could be seen across only a short strait of choppy water. But he didn’t expect to see the mainland again, he would hang before the sun had a chance to burn off this dense fog, and he would die without even being able to see the sea again. Alkwrstra was an impregnable fortress, with great mirrors that could burn ships from impressive distances, boiling oil, trebuchets with flaming balls of tar, and walls at least twenty feet thick. Even Martin would have to realize there was nothing anyone could do now.

Behind him the drum began to beat out a steady tattoo, and smartly dressed soldiers marched out in precise formation into the main square, surrounding the gallows and the prisoner. With a single loud crack they slammed their spear butts onto the cobblestones and stood at rigid attention as the drum continued to beat. On the ramparts above the square Elonsat himself stepped forward. A black and gray mottled fox with feral yellow eyes that gleamed hungrily, and a horrible scar stretching across his face, he looked down at Azmonkhail triumphantly then raised his voice and spoke.
“Citizens of Arcana, before you stands a miserable traitor, he aided Martin in a time of war, and left us for those despicable corsairs. He has shown himself to be the lowest and most cowardly of scum, and even now he refuses to renounce his evil. For this he has earned death. He smiled.
“Do you have any last words?” Azmonkhail looked up with disgust.
“Go to hell.”
“Very well, execute the prisoner.” The guards began to lead him to the gallows as Elonsat watched eagerly.
“Sir, I think you need to see this.” Said a lackey at his side.
“Not now.” Said Elonsat, it can wait.”
“Sir, this is really important.”
“What!?” said Elonsat with infuriated exasperation as he turned. “I’m sure someone else can handle it.” The aide nervously pointed at the sea,
“It may be nothing, but I thought I saw a sail, and you told me to report anything suspicious.”
“What did it look like?”
“What did wat look like yer honor?”
“The sail you bumbling idiot! What did the sail look like?”
“Er, it was white, and it was over there.” He gestured in a vague direction. Elonsat signaled below to pause the proceedings.
“White you say? Do you realize that everything around us is white you addle brained moron? Did you need really need to so urgently inform me that you saw something white?”
“Well I thought it might be important.”
“You thought? You thought? Why don’t you l eave the thinking for creatures with brains you fool? Tell me look out there, what do you see?” Elonsat turned to the fog covered ocean and laughed scornfully.
“Nothing, that’s what.” He turned back to see the aide fall, transfixed, an arrow through his throat. Whirling back around he stared in shock at the ocean. For a moment there was nothing but ghostly shadows, but then the shadows solidified into ships. From every direction dark ships were appearing, sails furled and velvet coated oars rowing silently. Corsairs stood on every ship, a motley assortment of creatures from all corners of the world, dressed in an assortment of armour and tawdry colorful finery. A moment later his brain caught up with him as he ducked below another flight of silent hissing arrows.

“Attack! Attack! All creatures to your stations!” he bellowed loudly. Golas stood at the head of the fleet watching the other captains Tac, Shadow, Reguba, Titus, and Wakka. As he heard the alarmed shouts from the fortress he knew the time had come.
“Hoist the colours!” he roared. “For Azmonkhail! For Svalbard! For Freedom!” A roar sprang up from every ship as the fleet drew near, and above each ship the black flag of Svalbard rose to wave proudly in the wind.
Azmonkhail looked up, with a faint stirring of hope as he heard the alarmed shouts. Then he heard the roars from the fleet.
“They came.” He whispered. Scarcely able to believe his ears.
“Hang him!” roared Elonsat. “Now!” Would they be too late? Would all their sacrifice be for naught? He stared at the dark cloaked hangman at the gallows, who stood with his face lost in the shadow of a black leather hood. He gestured and slowly Azmonkhail walked up, his face impassive, facing his fate without fear. Slowly he felt the noose slip around his neck and tighten.
“Don’t react in any way to what I am telling you.” Whispered the hangman. “It’s me, Martin. In a moment I’m going to hand you a sword. There are another score of corsairs who have infiltrated the fortress with me. But we will still need to get you out under the diversion of the fleet.” Standing, Martin stood before the lever that would open the trapdoor. Suddenly his sword flashed and Azmonkhail felt the noose go slack as it fell, the guards stood their slack jawed, unsure of how to respond. In a second Martin had unlocked Azmonkhail’s chains and slipped a second sword from beneath his cloak.

“Vashkren!” Martin roared. Dark cloaked figures rose out of doorways and window slits bows drawn. Dark feathered shafts hissed angrily through the air to bury themselves in the vermin guards.
“Let’s go!” said Martin. Leaping down from the platform with sword outstretched. He buried his blade in one guard, then whirled on one foot as he ducked low beneath a slashing sword to skewer the captain. Dashing forward he and Azmonkhail made for the ramparts.
Shadow lived for war, it was his passion, and his greatest skill. So of course when Martin had asked him to plan the attack on Alkwrstra he had considered it his finest moment. Now he was about to live that moment.
“Archers! Slingbeasts! Form ranks! Show these scurvy landlubbers what we’re made of! Move ye scurvy swabs! Bring forth the nutcrackers! Wind them springs tight!”
Improvised ballistas were hauled out and speedily assembled. Then they were wound back and loaded. Enormous grappling hooks, tied to long coils of metal ropes were prepared. Shadow stood on the hook, balanced perfectly, watching a constant rain of projectiles holding back the defenders.
“Fire!” he roared. The tension released and he gripped on to the firing metal barb with all his might, as it soared up and over with incredible speed. The wind rushed past his face as he laughed madly.

Elonsat was rushing to and fro madly trying to organize a defense in the midst of the chaos. He ordered a column of pike wielding soldiers to the main ramparts, and herded archers towards the high parapets to rain down arrows from there. A crew of frantic vermin were vainly pointing a set of highly polished metal mirrors at the corsair fleet. Elonsat shook his head in disgust.

“Fools! Those won’t work without the sun! There isn’t a single ray getting through the clouds you brainless morons! Go make yourself useful somewhere else! Hey you over there! Get those trebuchets going now! I want to see stones and fire flying over my head now!” He turned to see the huge barbed hooks flying through the air to land over the ramparts. An enormous black fox, at least nine feet tall, leaped nimbly off at the ramparts drawing his twin axes in one fluid motion. Spotting Elonsat he let out a primeaval roar and charged forward. Elonsat hurled a hapless weasel in Shadow’s path as he dashed towards higher ground, frantically pulling his axe and whip loose.
“My lord! The prisoner has escaped! We tried to stop him but there were many who had infiltrated us and they fought us off and got him away.” Elonsat turned, his eyes growing cold with anger.