No Justice for the Wicked

[Kamar Deythal]

He had reached the bottom of the stairs. First he looked right, the direction of the cells, noting the trail of blood leading from the cell room on the left down the hall and around the corner to the right. He heard muffled curses and muttering from what he assumed were guards as the searched and stripped another prisoner. His ears were exceptional, and he could tell that one of them was complaining about how the 'bloody prisoner' had surprised him.

Kamar smirked for a moment, wondering whether he should follow the trail of blood or try to follow his ears. He could hear the sound of running feet coming from his left, and it seemed to be getting closer. With a shrug, Kamar made the decision and started left, slipping along the left hand wall.

As he neared the corner, he could hear the running footsteps begin to echo off the wall at the end of the hall and bounce to his ears. He knew that whoever was running was just around that corner. With practiced ease, Kamar leaned against the wall and sidled towards the corner, not even attempting to look around it. No sense wasting his most valuable asset; surprise.

He closed his eyes, concentrating on the sound of pursuit. The odd thing was, it was almost like someone was being chased by a dog... He could hear the claws ticking across the marble flooring. After a few more seconds, he realized that someone was chasing the dog. He frowned slightly, tilting his head to try to hear more. It sounded like only one person running after this dog, anyways.

They were definitely getting closer. In fact, the dog ... or whatever ... should be rounding the corner any second ...

He heard the sound of a body hitting the floor at full force. His eyes popped open just in time to watch what appeared to be a man-sized fox slide hard into the end wall. He stared at it for a second before it suddenly seemed to shift in his line of sight. Fur melted away to be replaced by skin...

And Chrishton lay on the floor across from him. Kamar was suddenly battle ready, his muscles tense as he remained plastered against the wall. He didn't give himself the time to think on this strange happening, but prepared himself for what was to come next.

He knew his only option was to hit whoever was chasing Chrishton before they had a chance to see him. He prepared to throw himself at whoever came around that corner next, driving his elbow into the temple of that person. He waited, tense and ready, letting his ears tell him when he would be needed.

Hopefully his ears were right and it was only the one person chasing Chrishton.

[Artim]

Artim heard his quarry hit the floor a few steps ahead of him. Apparantly his attempt to burn the prisoners knees had worked. What he didn't expect though was for someone not friendly to be lurking around the corner. It was rather difficult to catch Artim by surprise with his ability to see heat even through walls. However in this case the fact that he was chasing someone with every ounce of his strength and the fact he was somewhat off his guard led him to be an easy victim to the hidden man's attack.

Fortunately he had a little warning and was able to avoid the full force of the man's blow. Instead of being caught in the temple he was instead caught square in the jaw. The force of the blow sent him against the far wall. The strength of his armor probably kept his ribs from cracking instantly but the pain was still sharp. Worse yet his staff was jarred loose and clanged against floor a good distance away.

The pulsing pain in his jaw and the fact that his vision was blurring made it difficult to figure any sort of response and straight hand to hand fighting wasnt his specialty. Still, he had to try someting. He did his best to focus some of his power into his hands in order to make his hands burn. He then promptly swung for whatever part of his attackers body he could reach as he attempted to get his footing.

[Porter]

"Pardon the intrusion," the Porter's courtly voice entered Artim's mind as well as that of every other battlemage and Judge on the face of Pal Tahrenor in simultaneity. Though he could not be seen, the touch of his mental connection conjured an internal representation that was indescribable in physical terms. Memories of his image surfaced along with a voice that had no real sound, but was linked by association to the conceited sound his real voice invariably carried. "Artim, but you are ordered not to interfere with the events transpiring within the justice hall and involving the prisoners Chrishton and Dennison."

His thoughts cut through everything in Artim's surroundings and might well have blinded him if the Porter's mental communication had the ability to do so. The Battlemage's attention was drawn away from the pain and noise of his collapse. Time did not slow, but the communication had a way of existing beyond its earthly constraints.

"That is all."

Whether he was in fact personally addressing Artim was unclear. The Porter could not know who was where and doing what, though he could make his communications personalized for each recipient and still speak to everyone at once. It was likely a message sent to them all. Artim just happened to be the one most inconvenienced by it.

[Chrishton Radu]

Chrishton looked over his bare shoulder after hearing a thud, and saw Kamar standing over him and retracting his elbow after dealing a fine blow to the battlemage that was on his tails. It was good to see something go right for a change, but a pessimistic mood was starting to take hold over Chrishton like a dark cloud.

Things were not working out as he expected. His imprisonment was never intended to be a cake-walk, but he knew in his gut when things were a purposeful, meaningful test, and when things were simply falling apart and being left in the bony hands of lady luck. Inari was not with him here. Destiny was not with him here. His mind was one in tune with its purpose and he could feel when events fell out of alignment with what was intended. What was meant to be. What was good.

His rescue now was too late to take away the hollow feeling that gutted him when he threw himself once more into the arms of fate and was not caught. Kamar was a lifeline being offered to him and he was not about to refuse it. But who was holding the other end of this line? Who was giving him this chance to escape?

It was not Inari, not his god. Someone else's fate was lifting him out either by chance or with purpose. The feeling of helplessness in Chrishton then was stronger than any he had experienced in years, and he could not explain why or how he knew it was so. Logically Kamar's return might as well be Inari's doing, but this was not logic. This was his faith and he knew how to read it. It was a heavy weight holding him down, but he was strong and stubborn, and even if Inari spat on him he was not going to let it go unanswered. Luck or not, he wanted to get the hell out of Justice Hall.

He reached out to Kamar with a dirty hand and started to stand up.

"Ferget the clothes, lets go."

[Kamar Deythal]

Kamar battled with the battlemage for a few moments, throwing a couple swift, openhanded strikes aimed to knock the battlemage out. Somehow the other managed to get a grip on his leg and Kamar suddenly smelled burning cloth and felt a searing pain from too much warmth.

With a last, hard thrown openhanded strike, the battlemage was suddenly still, even though the blow was only glancing. Kamar didn't dwell too much on that, assuming either the glancing blow was hard enough to finish the battlemage, or Moryldar had done his job.

He turned away from the downed battlemage to Chrishton just as the fallen man was raising a hand for help. Kamar took his hand, seeming to not at all care that it was dirty and bloodied. With strength belied by his size, he hoisted Chrishton up and supported his weight, if it was needed. He then helped the big man down the hall and began the ascent up the stairs.

Kamar, once he was sure, Chrishton could walk on his own, scouted ahead, making sure they weren't going to run into anyone. When they reached the top of the stairs, Kamar turned to the left, away from Moryldar's office and the front door. A place as large as this would surely need some sort of back door or service entrance.

Making sure Chrishton was still following him, Kamar moved ahead, following the twists and turns, coming across no one as they traversed the halls. At one point he dropped back beside Chrishton, to be sure the big man was doing alright.

Kamar glanced around the hall suspiciously. "It's pretty good luck that we haven't run into anyone else. A little strange, too." Kamar continued to frown, but again scouted the way. He went around a corner ahead of Chrishton , checking a few of the doors and poking his head in the rooms. He was looking for guardsmen or battlemages that might be planning a trap, but he was also looking for clothing that Chrishton could wear. It would look a little suspicious if he were to drag a bleeding, dirty, nearly naked person through the streets in search of clothing and a place to stay.

The third room revealed no threats, but there were several wardrobes. He peeked into each, discovering nondescript robes in some, and judges outfits in others. Finding one he thought would fit Chrishton, he brought it back out into the hallway and handed it to the man.

"Put this on. I'm sure it's not much farther until we're out of here."

[Artim]

When Artim heard the command he was confused at first. It was like he was being told to let a prisoner escape, and not just one, two. Of course if this was coming from the Porter then the order must be coming from a judge. Moryldar probably since it looked like these were his prisoners. Still the order was a bit odd, but he saw no reason not to obey. He would want an explanation though.

He immediately broke off his attack on the man that was now on top of him, though it appeared he'd manage to burn the back of his leg. When the next strike came, even though it was only glancing, he allowed him self to fall limp and appear unconcious. In truth it probably wouldn't have taken much more to put him down for real. It was implied that this escape was to look genuine so Artim stayed down and waited for the sounds of the two prisoners to move away.

Once they were gone he managed to pull himself to his feet, picked up his staff, and then limped his way towards the cells. He found the two guards waiting for him there as he'd directed. They'd managed to get Artim's prisoner into the cell and he was sitting there, manacles still on with a terrified look on his face. Artim merely glared at him.

"I'll be back for you later. Pity we found you when I'm in a bad mood."

The man didn't say a thing, he simply cowered in the corner. After making sure the cell was locked he turned towards the stairs, his cape swishing about. He motioned for the guards to follow him and he made his way up the stairs and towards Moryldar's office, looking to see if the Judge was in to give him some answers.

[Chrishton Radu]

Chrishton was too confused, hurt, dizzy, and eager to leave the complex to notice much going on around him other than the space immediately before him, which was generally occupied by Kamar. After pulling himself to his feet with the assassin's help, he instinctively made for the stairway under his own power and the support of the narrow walls. Messy, wet strands of hair obscured much of his face, which was a good thing considering how he felt.

Climbing the stairs was an arduous task that he tackled admirably, grunting on each second step but otherwise making good progress with little complaint. He moved like a marionette, under some distant motivational power not his own. The man was a machine and was not going to stop until death pulled him through the floor into the pits of hell.

His mind wandered. The experience was nothing new. It dredged up memories of being held prisoner by a woman who used his pain to ease her own. Trapped inside her house for days, alternating between seduction, sympathy and torture, he remembered the pain and her psychotic laugh better than he remembered her face. He never knew her motives. Even a vampire should have limits. Or so he thought back then.

Something spoke to him though a dense fog. It's pretty good luck that we haven't run into anyone else. A little strange, too.

"Eh?" He had no good response to give. He'd barely understood the words.

Then, what felt like seconds later; Put this on. I'm sure it's not much farther until we're out of here.

Something soft was shoved into his hands.

Clothes, right. Put them on because it's cold. Its cold and they'll feel good.

He did just that, and then somehow had the presence of mind to recall where he was, and where they were going.

"Where's the fuckin' exit?"

He was never too lost for vulgarity.

[Kamar Deythal]

Kamar paused at a 'T' intersection in the hall, Chrishton a ways behind him, stumbling down the hall with his new clothing. Kamar poked his head around the corner, seeing no one either way. He sniffed, down both halls, noting that the one to the left smelled a little fresher. Perhaps the exit was down here ...

"Where's the fuckin' exit?"

Kamar turned as Chrishton approached, his smirk obscured by the hood pulled up over his head.

"Why, this way, Master Radu," Kamar's sarcastic voice sounded from within his hood. "We'll be out in nearly no time."

Kamar stepped out into the intersection, leading the way quietly down the left hand hallway, towards where the air was fresher. He eventually reached a much smaller exit than the front doors, and as he approached, the door itself slowly opened outwards.

Immediately suspicious, Kamar held up a hand to Chrishton, ordering him to stop with the signal. He cocked his head, allowing his ears to pick up any sounds he could. After a few seconds, Kamar was able to tune out the crack of whips for wagonloads of goods, creaking wagon wheels, and incessant chatter of people going about their daily busy not far from the back exit of the Justice Hall.

Faint voices could be heard from farther down the hall, not loud enough to be understood, but loud enough for Kamar to know they were there, and pretty close.

With another gesture for Christon to follow, Kamar stepped out the open door and quickly peered around. There was no one in immediate sight in the large back alley. The only things in the alley were an empty wagon and several barrels, one open and filled with what was probably rain water.

Kamar looked back at Chrishton and hissed, "Quickly! Out!" holding the door for the bigger, injured man to go through.

"We need to get to a safe place, if you know of any."

[Chrishton Radu]

The clothes chafed his wounds and made him wish once again for the thicker hide and fur that came with his koto form. They kept the cold at bay and gave him a degree of dignity, but they were a far cry from the kind of medical attention he needed.

He looked down at his feet, whose bare toes stuck out from under the cloak.

Shoes. Shoes would be nice too. His shoes were downstairs.

Why, this way, Master Radu

It was surreal to be called by his last name and given the title of master. In all his hears, it was a title he'd never taken and a tone of address that was so foreign to him that he could not relate to it on any level. Master Radu? Had those two words ever been spoken together? Perhaps to his father or his grandfather, whoever they were...

It made no sense of course. None of it did. As he approached Kamar and saw the open door, it would have been clear to any man in his right mind that it was a setup. On some level Chrishton processed this information, but it was drowned out by the more salient knowledge that he had to leave Justice Hall at all costs or he was going to die.

A cool breeze flowed through and carried the life outside on its back. Where Kamar saw daylight, grass, distant houses and people, Chrishton saw orange spirits gathered like a swarm of translucent snakes hovering just outside The Porter's barrier. He could not hear them, their ethereal voices unable to penetrate to him, but they were there.

His friends, brothers, confidants, advisers, family. Even though they would probably tell him nothing of any use, he longed to hear them once again.

Determined and single-minded, he said nothing and shuffled for the door while buttressing himself along the wall.

[Kamar Deythal]

Kamar went further into the back alley, pulling the hood back slightly to get more use from his peripheral vision. His eyes darted from side to side, taking in everything. From the sun's position in the sky to the length of the shadows gave him the time of day as early morning. Puffy white clouds, not thick enough to obscure the sun, drifted across the sky, the remnants of the previous nights storm no longer present.

None of the shadows hid any guards, and there was no one within immediate sight. He waved for Chrishton to follow him and moved out quickly. He didn't look back to be sure Chrishton followed, but instead assumed the man, still in a bit of a daze from his injuries and pursuit, would simply follow his only lifeline to escape and freedom.

Kamar peeked around a corner, looking both ways up the alley behind Justice Hall. Wide enough to barely fit the wagon in the rear courtyard, it ran the entire length of the back of the Justice Hall. No one was approaching from either direction, and Kamar could see the flow of people moving about their morning business. All he could think about now was getting down the alley and into that mass of humanity so they could blend in and be away from the Justice Hall.

Making pacts with the devil was not his usual mode for escape, but he did know he wouldn't have been able to get past the barrier without the Porter's help. He had known that much, even before Chrishton had told him in the cell.

Kamar looked back and impatiently waved at Chrishton to follow, then headed down the alley in the direction that would leave him closest to the Industrial District.

Without looking over his shoulder, he said, "Come on. I know a place we can stay until the heat blows over a bit."

Plus, I can get the rest of my stuff and change out of these clothes, he thought.

[Chrishton Radu]

Chrishton followed Kamar as quickly as he could, which was the average man's quick walking pace. He left the doorway of justice hall and immediately brought his hand up to shield his sensitive eyes from the glare of the morning sun. It stabbed at his brain worse than any of the wounds he had on his body. Wounds he was accustomed to, but the sun made it difficult to see and impossible to ignore.

Also impossible to ignore was the swarm of orange wisps that circled him like a cloud of giant ethereal insects. Only he could see them, and even then it was not with his eyes he saw them, but with his mind. They were no more orange than sadness was blue or anger red, and were no more furry than love was sweet. Still they were orange, and they chattered and chuckled and whispered at him so fully that he couldn't make out anything but their voices and the glaring sun.

"Grah! FECK OFF!" He yelled, seemingly at nobody. He threw his hand away from his face and used it to force them away, a move that was surprisingly effective at driving off the cloud. He was angry with them and angry with Inari. He was angry with them for not warning him about what was in Justice Hall, and for not arranging a surefire means of escape. They left him to another man's fate and he could have died a horrible, lonely, torturous death.

It pissed him off greatly, but both he and the spirits knew it would pass.

He was hardly the sort of man Kamar would want tagging along if he expected to remain hidden, but now that he was outside he was invigorated by the touch of fresh air and life around him. He could barely walk, could barely see, and could barely think, but boy if someone tried to restrain him would he pummel the crap out of them.

Trying to use the robe as a shield from the sun he followed the shadowy figure he recognized as his accomplice. It would be a minute before his eyes properly adjusted, if they intended to do so at all.

Once inside the alley things were a little easier. It shielded him from the sun, and the spirits were smart enough to back off for the time being. Kamar said something about having a place to stay.

"Well it better be close 'cause I ain't goin' far."

It was a statement of fact. He knew he couldn't walk much more and that he was going to pass out soon. Fortunately he was no longer afraid of death. He wasn't going to die, so why worry?

[Kamar Deythal]

Kamar nodded at Chrishton's statement as he paused at the end of the alley. He simply leaned against the wall in the shadows, acting completely like he belonged there. Once Chrishton had caught up, Kamar spoke just loud enough for the words to carry to Chris, but no one else that might have been within earshot.

"It's about ten minutes away, walking normally. You'll have to try to keep up. There's nothing I can do to help your wounds until we are there, and if you crash and burn in the middle of the street, there's nothing I can do to keep you out of Justice Hall again."

Kamar turned slightly and looked at Chrishton out of the corner of his eyes, past the edge of his hood. "And pull up that hood on your robe." With a nod of assurance, his face nearly expressionless, Kamar stepped out into the swirling mass of humanity.

Hawkers, carrying their wares with them, shouted for people to take a look. Groups of two, three, and four clustered together, talking and laughing amongst themselves. Kamar slipped deftly between people, rarely brushing against them as he made his way diagonally northeast across the street. He paused for the merest instant to allow the tail end of a wagon filled with bales of hay to rumble by, dragged by two large horses.

In mere moments, he was across the street and in another alley. He paused and looked back, keeping an eye on Chrishton until he was sure the other knew where he was and was following. Main Street was behind him, and they were on their way to the next large street.

Kamar crossed Ephatra Road in much the same way. Again pausing at the corner of a less used street, he waited for Chrishton again, then continued down the street. True to his word, in just less than ten minutes, they came to a warehouse at the edge of the Industrial District. He turned down another alley, stopping in the middle and checking both ways, looking past Chrishton to be sure no one was following them.

A knife was suddenly in his hand, and he began prying at the space between two boards. After a few moments, the boards came apart, and what could now be seen as a small door popped open. The door was only four feet high and wide, so both men would have to duck in.

With a tight smile, Kamar waved Chrishton in and followed, closing the door behind them.

[Frug]

(( Continued in the industrial district here: http://www.tharshaddin.com/rp/viewtopic.php?t=893 ))