No Justice for the Wicked

Post by **Laz** » Tue Dec 26, 2006 2:49 pm

Wolfhound snarled, he wasn't exactly the brightest spark, being more of an instinctual being. "Don't see why it matters, with you in a cage as well you filthy creature". Being this close to an assassin for so long was starting to get to him, it reeked of death in here. Forcing himself to sit down, he tried to mull things over, he could bend the bars, but they were so strong, even with his extra strength it would take so much effort and time he would be left weak, pointless if he needed to then escape.
A caged animal, that was he that was left, it would do him no good to continue thinking about Kamar, first he had to get free, and he could see no way of getting out without enlisting the help of the other two in here, people who had more of an advantage here than a creature of the woods. "Dennison, I don't like this, but I have an offer for you...unlock my cell as well as yours an the other one, and I won't keep trying to kill you. It would be simple enough for you to pretend that Lanya is dead. I'll see to it that she leaves, gets a new identity, that way everybody wins, no?"

Kamar Deythal · Post by **Kamar Deythal** » Wed Jan 10, 2007 1:42 am

Kamar was hard-pressed not to laugh out loud at Wolfhound's ridiculous attempt at negotiation. Anyone who claimed they knew assassins as well at this fellow did should know that the only person to negotiate when dealing with assassins were the assassins themselves. He ignored the comments, deciding he would leave Wolfhound here to rot or be killed, however it worked out. There was no time to waste on making sure the shifter was dead.

He slipped nearly soundlessly across the pristine floor, his slippered feet whispering as he set them down. He bent and retrieved his belt with his left arm, then injured one, wincing slightly. The muscles were beginning to tighten, and he knew he had to keep using it almost normally to keep it from being long in healing. As he buckled the belt up again, he surveyed his surroundings. No windows in any walls could be seen, and the only exit was the way they had come in. There were only eight cells, each separated by a stone wall with a barred door in the front. Perhaps so few cells because those put into them didn't survive the torture long.

Kamar slipped the rest of his weapons away, his eyes moving towards Chrishton as he did so. The thought of torture had turned his mind back to the poor fellow calmly lying in his own blood on the floor of the cell and the matter at hand - escape. Kamar could tell there was something different about Chris, though not what. Any normal prisoner would have been unconscious or very close to dead with the amount of blood pooling around Chris. Not only was Chris conscious, but coherent as well. It intrigued Kamar, causing him to wonder if he had perhaps found an ally.

Or perhaps simply another person to use towards his own ends.

Kamar spent a few moments running over Chrishton's previous words in his mind, to which he had not responded yet. The name Moryldar stuck in his head, and he wondered which he was.

Kamar moved so he could better see Chris, and so Chris wouldn't have to strain to see him. "Who is Moryldar?"

Chrishton Radu · Post by **Chrishton Radu** » Sat Jan 13, 2007 11:50 am

Chrishton turned his head and looked directly at Kamar when he came up to the cell. He had clever eyes - sharp, mischievous, and possessing an energy that would be youthful, were they not set in the face of a middle aged man. The pain only lit them up more from the inside, rather than fade away because of lost blood. Moryldar's work was precise, and Chris was strong.

The fact that Kamar didn't seem to know who Moryldar was spoke well for him not being a spy.

"'es the one 'at did this t'me. A judge they call 'em. Higher ups 'round 'ere, fuckin' old men think they run things 'cause they can torture people."

Escape soon was starting to seem plausible. Whoever the man talking to him was, he didn't look like a pushover. He did get out of his cell without the use of magic, and he was wearing the clothes of a stealthy fighter though he was human, not elven. At least based on appearances. He was also quick and to the point, a useful quality in this situation.

Yes. It was now or never. Clearly Kamar was the one Chrishton was supposed to escape with. It certainly wasn't going to be the other one next door, and another day on the altar and Chris wasn't sure he would survive.

Finally, he started to get up, peeling himself off the floor and leaving a pink imprint where he had been. He grimaced and winced in ways that revealed the kind of yells he was stifling. He looked like hell, but he looked like he could handle it.

Slowly he rose to his feet, tall and broad shouldered. He had a hint of a gut, but the muscles of a fighter. The underwear they left him with was soaking up the blood, which was still dripping, albeit slowly, from all the cuts and gashes along his arms and torso. He clearly avoided putting pressure on one of his legs, and slapped a hand against the marble wall to keep from falling.

"Fuckers took m'clothes." Was all he decided to say.

Kamar Deythal · Post by **Kamar Deythal** » Thu Jan 18, 2007 2:20 am

Kamar watched as Chris levered himself to his feet, not once offering a hand. If Chris was as wily and tough as the rumors said, he shouldn't have any problem. There was still something else about him...

Kamar gave himself a mental shake. Here he was, a prisoner in the Justice Hall, and he was letting himself be overly intrigued by a fellow prisoner, albeit an interesting one. From the rumors Kamar had been able to dredge up on the street, and from the fact that the battlemages and judges wanted Chrishton behind bars so badly, he would make a dangerous adversary. Just the kind of person to have as an ally.

Kamar looked Chris up and down. The injuries weren't extensive, from what he could see, but he knew from experience that torture didn't necessarily begin and end on the outside of the body. There were ways around the physical signs of torture.

Moryldar was good at what he did. Though there was a lot of blood, the draining of it was not so fast that it leached away the life as well. Kamar's mouth twitched in an imperceptible smile. He was good at what he did as well.

"Fuckers took m'clothes."

Kamar nodded once, then reached behind his belt where he had temporarily tucked his lockpicks. He moved towards Chris' cell and began working on the lock. As he worked, he spoke.

"Name's Samuel. I'm going to open this for you, I'll go get us a Moryldar as a prisoner, and you can search around quickly for some clothes. I know the route that was taken to get us here, and I'm pretty certain I know where Moryldar will be. I'll meet you at the top of the stairs leading out of these cells. Sound good?"

The question was punctuated by a quiet 'snick' as the lock on Chris' door popped open.

Chrishton Radu · Post by **Chrishton Radu** » Fri Jan 19, 2007 1:15 am

Chrishton let the man open the lock without stopping him, though he couldn't help but smile at the irony of it. There was no sense in doing more than he had to, so he just stood and waited, rubbing his shoulder and trying not to move in certain ways that aggravated his injuries.

When the door was unlocked and Chrishton walked over to it to stand before Kamar, his size really became apparent. He stood half a foot taller and looked to weigh twice as much. He wasn't quite a behemoth, but it was obvious that brute force was well within his capabilities.

"I'll meet you at the top of the stairs leading out of these cells. Sound good?"

"Aye, Samuel. Sure. Y'do yer thing. Gimme ten minutes."

Chris had faith that Samuel would be able to manage grabbing Moryldar. He sure looked the part of a stealthy assassin, and even if he failed utterly it would give Chris a distraction he could use to get out.

More than anything he wanted his clothes back. In his human form he felt quite uncomfortable with the prospect of having to fight in his briefs, and the cloth would at least cover the cuts. After glancing around and deciding that the clothes were not in the current room, he started through the doorway to search the rest of the lower level.

Kamar Deythal · Post by **Kamar Deythal** » Fri Jan 19, 2007 5:52 am

Kamar stepped back as Chrishton moved out of the cell. Standing, Chris looked larger and more imposing than he did lying in a cell in a pool of his own blood. A corner of Kamar's mouth turned up in a half smirk as he nodded to Chris' reply.

"Ten minutes it is."

As Chris cast around the interior of the jail, presumably for his clothing, Kamar padded near soundlessly to the exit. Poking his head out, he quickly ascertained there were no guards awaiting their arrival. He slipped out quickly, slipping quietly over the stone flooring. By the time Chris exited the jail, Kamar was pressed up against the wall at the base of the stairs leading to the upper levels, and escape.

Again he poked his head around the corner, using not only his eyes, but his ears too. The lower level was dark, with only torches for light, but Kamar's half-elven senses were trained for the darkness. He closed his eyes to allow them to adjust, as well as shift into a slightly different spectrum. Kamar reopened his eyes and poked his head around the corner of the wall to look up the stairs. His eyes, now better able to see in the dark, picked through the shadows to be sure no guards were hidden in wait.

With a swirl of his cape, Kamar slipped around the corner and began his ascent to freedom.

Chrishton Radu · Post by **Chrishton Radu** » Sat Jan 27, 2007 4:52 pm

Chrishton was far less meticulous about his business. While Kamar checked every corner and made as little noise as possible for fear of being jumped, Chrishton had an strong belief in fate - fate he was convinced he could understand. This belief led him to the conclusion that he was not going to get jumped and attacked now, while he was completely unable to defend himself, because it would ruin his only reasonable chance for escape and that would be too awful for even Inari to let happen. He had to escape now, which meant things had to go his way.

So he ambled along, looking miserable and feeling just as bad. Where he could, he used the wall for support, leaving pink hand-prints behind to mark his passage. He started to talk to himself in a low grumble, but stopped when he remembered that there was nobody - save for kamar - who could hear him.

"Fuckin' 'ell"

Kamar vanished up the stairs and Chrishton rounded a different corner. It was the first one he could find, and he had no doubt that his clothes or something useful to that effect would be around it.

Artim · Post by **Artim** » Tue Feb 20, 2007 10:48 pm

Unfortunatly for the newly escaped prisoner what he found was a fully armored Battlemage with a polished metal staff in his right hand. Probably wasn't exactly what Chrishton had in mind. Trailing behind the Battlemage were two guardsmen each cluching the arm of a man who was both hooded and shackled. Technically Artim was still on leave as he was still not fully recovered from his last assignment despite the care of the Justice Hall's healers. However, when Artim had heard that the scum who had set up the ambush that lead to the disappearance of his father and his current condition, he figured he had enough strength to see to his interrogation personally and arranged for him to be brought to the Hall. In fact the man's exposed arms already had some obvious burns on them.

Artim didn't immediately recognize the prisoner but the fact that he was nearly naked and bloodied, signtatures of Moryldar's work, told him instantly that the man was a prisoner and wasn't out of his cell permissvely. The guards figured this out too and while one of them pinned the other prisoner against the wall the other advanced with his weapon drawn, waiting for the Battlemage's order.

In the mean time Artim's burning red-orange eyes met the prisoners as his staff was leveled at the prisoners chest, the tip now glowing bright red as Artim unleashed a bit of his energy into the weapon. In a firm voice the Battlemage said,

"Prisoner, stop now and get on your knees or you'll soon learn the power of the Flame"

Chrishton Radu · Post by **Chrishton Radu** » Thu Feb 22, 2007 6:08 am

Chrishton rounded the corner and stopped in his tracks when he saw what was there. Not only a battlemage, but a fully suited one with a pair of guardsman at his side.

His mouth fell agape. It was too much to believe. He already had to hold the wall to keep from falling because of his injuries. Now he had to hold it to keep from falling over in shock. How exactly was he supposed to escape with obstacles like this in his way? Was he supposed to escape at all? It was absurd.

"Prisoner, stop now and get on your knees or you'll soon learn the power of the Flame" came the battlemage's call.

Oh y've gotta be kiddin' me. He thought to himself. Still through force of habit, as though someone could hear him.

He pressed himself up against the marble wall, looking exhausted, hurt, and confused. For the most part his demeanor was entirely genuine, and all he had to do was milk it. With blood dripping from every angle on his body, he looked about as helpless as a 5 year old girl.

"Dun take me back there..." He begged, lolling his head back. "The demon, it's got hold of 'im. He'll kill us all..."

Artim · Post by **Artim** » Thu Feb 22, 2007 8:49 pm

Artim wasn't sure what to make of the prisoner's statement. It seemed highly unlikely that there was a demon in the cellblock and that the prisoner was probably just making it up as a distraction. Then again, considering the people that usually were kept in those cells, it wasn't impossible that someone, or something, was rampaging in there. Given that the man looked pretty beat up and, unless he were really crafty, unarmed, he wasn't much of a threat.

After thinking for a couple seconds, Artim turned around and looked at the guards. Looking first to the one that was holding the shackled and hooded prisoner to the wall the Battlemage barked,

"You keep him there. You, watch this one. I'm going to confirm what this man says. If either escapes..." , Artim assumed the guardsmen already knew what the consequences would be. As the other guard stepped over, his sword pointed to Chris' neck, Artim stepped around the corner to see what was going on in the cells, his staff held out in front of him in a defensive posture.

Chrishton Radu · Post by **Chrishton Radu** » Sat Feb 24, 2007 9:43 pm

The distraction worked to a minimal degree, but Chrishton was quickly running out of options and he knew it. Shifting was a last resort and he had to do everything in his power to avoid it until the last moment. Perhaps the guard would mistakingly leave himself open and give Chris a chance.

He looked at the sword pointed at his neck, and at the man wielding it who, with the added bulk of his armor, was even bigger than Chrishton. He then started to think that maybe Inari could not see what transpired within the walls of Justice Hall, that his all seeing god was trumped by the games of these local mages, and that there might not actually be a way out after all.

Boy would that assassin guy be pissed if Chris couldn't get the front door open.

As his eyes glossed over the whitish metal of the guardsman's uniform, he thought about things and came to a conclusion. There was only one way to test his theory. If he was right, everything about his faith and his supposed destiny was wrong and he would die. If he was wrong there was nothing to worry about.

The tests were never over. They just kept getting harder. A leap of faith was in order.

"Hell with it."

He summoned what strength he had left and threw himself away from the wall at the first guardsman. The man was not expecting it and held his sword more like a threat than a tool, with the tip pointed at its target. Blood from Chrishton's hair and arms arced through the air as he threw his left palm into the flat side of the sword and wheeled around it to the right.

At the same time, be it for luck or fate, red droplets hit the guard in the eyes, blinding him for the half second Chrishton needed to finish his attack. The guardsman tried to step back and found Chrishton's heel blocking his way. He staggered, struggled to stay up, but a shove in the chest sent him careening into the back wall with a single, muffled clank.

The sword fell too, but Chrishton was all over it, trying to pick it up with a hand that refused to give him any grip. His fingers refused to close, and where they did the blood was like lubrication.

Stars danced across his vision. He was stretching himself too far. At this rate he could never make it to the door before he fainted, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was that the second guardsman had to be dealt with before the first got up again.

Artim · Post by **Artim** » Fri Mar 02, 2007 3:23 pm

When Artim turned the corner, all he saw was a rather pissed off looking wolfman securely locked in a cell. Nothing to be concerned about there, those bars should hold him fine.

"OK, lock him..." before Artim could finish his order he heard the guards sword clank to the floor and the prisoner take off. He spun around to give chase while shouting back at the gaurds.

"Secure the other prisoner and make sure noone else gets out. Move!".

Now if Artim were at his full strength he knew that it was highly unlikely this man could get very far. However, the Battlemage was still a bit weakened. He rushed off after the bleeding prisoner at the best speed he could manage. Then again, what was the point, where was he going to go? Still, it would be more fun if he caught the man. Still, might as well take percautions.

Porter, we have a prisoner loose in the building. Would you be so kind as to...

Of course Artim, and I must say its good to hear your back in action.

Now feeling confident that he'd not escape, now it was only a matter of catching the man and returning him to his cell.

Chrishton Radu · Post by **Chrishton Radu** » Mon Mar 05, 2007 1:18 pm

With the sword dangling loosely from his bloody fingertips, Chrishton left the second guardsman busy with his original captive and hobbled off as quickly as his injured legs could take him. All of his wounds were purely to his flesh and muscles, and none of them were designed to do much more than hurt as much as possible when poked or prodded by something. The steady trickle of blood, which had actually stemmed to a large degree by this point, was slow and consistent but not life threatening.

Or, at least, it wasn't life threatening until he started running around with the gait of a zombie on overdrive.

He came to an intersection of hallways and had no idea which way to go. Left, right, or straight ahead. There was no time to think. The guard he knocked over would be getting back up and the battlemage was going to be really pissed.

"Clothes. Where's m'fuckin' clothes..."

There was a loud clattering as the sword fell from his useless hands, and Chrishton looked down in surprise, not having realized it was going to happen.

"Oh fer fuck's sake..."

He rounded the corner to the right where nobody could see him, and immediately shifted forms. He needed speed, needed dexterity, and most of all needed the keen sense of smell to find his clothes.

Long dark hair pulled back and bleached, scarred and bloody flesh over a heavy frame turned to short white (and now pink) fur over a lankey frame, and in seconds, while still running, the oafish man being chased down a hallway was no more. In his place was a quick and desperate kitsune keen on avoiding detection.

Now he could move properly. Not yet healed, the fur had a nice way of padding everything and his hobble was the average man's sprint. His position was given away by the blood, and so hiding was out of the question.

The creature slowed down and raised its nose to capture the breeze moving through the hall. He could smell the men chasing him, the pungent sweat and adrenaline marking tagging them like a bright marker, their other prisoner and his filthy condition. In an instant he had a picture of them in his head and would remember their signature for years. He could hear the mage's orders, and the shuffling of the standing guardsman echoing off the walls.

He could also smell himself, and though he didn't know the layout of the place at all, he could find his musky clothes with his eyes shut. The justice hall itself was so clean and sterile that it had almost no smell of its own. It was like nowhere he had ever been before, and it was actually quite helpful.

He dashed off in the hope of looping around to get back to his original position without being spotted.

Artim · Post by **Artim** » Wed Mar 07, 2007 3:31 am

Artim managed to keep up, though he didn't gain on the escaped prisoner. Then again, right now the chase was just a way to get excercise. This man was clearly in no better shape then Artim was. Morlydar or one of the other judges must have had fun with him, especially considering all the blood on the alter. Still, the prisoner managed to get out of sight for a moment.

When he reemerged with fur and pointy ears, Artim cursed under his breath.

Damn shifters.

Now it was even harder for Artim to keep pace with the man, or now man-fox as they twisted through the corridors below the Justice Hall. Damn thing was fast now, hell, Artim would have had a heck of a time keeping pace in his armor at full strength. It appeared he was trying to lose the Battlemage and he was doing a damn good job of it. As he ran Artim considered whether or not to use his abilities to stop the man. He wasn't going anywhere, but he was really beginning to get annoyed by the man-fox. Was worth a try though.

Artim reached out with his gloved hand and pointed it towards the man-fox's knee and began to focus on searing the skin and tendons on the back of the leg. It was tricky to focus while running like this though...

Chrishton Radu · Post by **Chrishton Radu** » Mon Mar 12, 2007 5:24 am

The fox hobbled along, desperately hoping he wasn't getting himself hopelessly lost within the white-walled catacombs of his newfound hell. It was impossible to cover his tracks, even with his abilities, so following him was something a child could do. As long as he kept moving, he could get lucky and find the cells again, or find his clothes, and then work on getting the hell out.

He rounded another corner and this time stared, again, right into the face of another startled battlemage who obviously hadn't heard the fox coming. The man was small, nowhere near the build of the guardsmen, but was wearing the full standard uniform, plates and all. He stood a half-foot shorter than the kitsune, and weighed almost the same. Blue eyes, elven features...

He received a palm in the face before he had a chance to yell. His head was thrown back so quickly he was out before hitting the floor, blood starting to journy out his nose and down his flawless cheek.

Chrishton was over him and moving right away, wasting as little time as possible, but it was still too much. The mage rounded the corner behind him and made eye contact. He saw that he was chasing a kitsune, and Chrishton's first line of defense, his false identity, was finally broken.

Unaware of this, he continued to run until he felt the back of his knees give under renewed pain. Pain close to what he already felt on three quarters of his body, but fresh and localized on tendons he needed to run. Under other conditions he would have found a way to hobble out of sight, but with his mind swimming and so close to passing out, he lacked any kind of serious control. He collapsed in mid-stride and hit the floor in a heap, sliding like a comet with pink trailers until he hit the far wall before another turn.

He thought of running again, thought of shrinking even smaller and keeping up the chase as any good fox would do. Even if they blocked off the exits, he could lead them on for hours, chasing their own asses in this sterile maze of marble until he died or passed out... But he was no fox. He was a man, and one who knew he was defeated once again. He'd gotten cocky and now his pride, not to mention his safety, was taking a blow for it. It was up to Dennison to show what he was made of and get them both out now.

Not wanting to make things worse and disgrace his image further, he shifted back to his human form right away and made no visible effort to stand.