Fate - First Reply The Great Escape.

[Florinthe Othal]

She thought for a moment, the sewers now seeming like the death trap that Jeriah had painted them to be. At the thought of a safe house, however, Florinthe had an idea.

"A temple. The sailors are superstitious, they wouldn't dare go against a temple." She'd heard tales, when she was a slave, of escapees and prisoners claiming sanctuary in the few temples that littered Cerak. While you put your life purely in the hands of a priest, who could be equally as scrupulous as the slavers, it was certainly an option.

She smiled, hoping it was as full as confidence as she felt. She was back to full strength and she was ready to take on the world around her. Her side-kick Jeriah at her rear.

 

[Jeriah Thackett]

Jeriah pursed his lips, taking too long to smooth the expression out. It was, all things considered, a good idea. He just didn't like the notion of putting his life in the hands of the clergy.

"Then we should pass them by and see which have open doors right now. Some of the locals won't hesitate to burn those temples down but at the very least it will be inside and out of sight."

"Do you want to do that whilst I check on the transport situation and we can meet up again here?" he asked.

 

[Florinthe Othal]

"You'd be surprised, these locals live by their superstition and belief, many of them are a lot more zealous than you'll ever see on the continent." She smiled, it was one peculiarity she could never quite understand. The mental gymnastics that these people displayed, enabling them to enslave on one hand and follow a so-called pious lifestyle on the other. She shrugged.

"Sounds as good an idea as any, if we aim to be back here before sunrise?" She was already halfway out the door before she'd finished her sentence, eager to begin the journey.

A stray thought wormed its way into her head. Perhaps it might be tricky to find a temple that would allow two unwed individuals of different sexes to stay for a night. Then she remembered. She was in Cerak, they had most certainly seen far stranger things. Florinthe chuckled to herself, then set about towards the temple district.

 

[Jeriah Thackett]

Thackett shrugged as she left and finished his beer. She had set a deadline but he had been starved for days and wasn't about to miss out on another round of bread and jam.

It took some time to meander around the socks. Thackett had an easy manner when he needed to. No one paid him much heed, no one who he questioned would commit him to memory.

Fitting in wherever he went was far more useful than any skills his previous life had left him with.

He left with the names of several captains who were not so discerning about their passengers leaving in the next week.

Thackett didn't care if she made it back before him, he was going to order some more hot food as soon as he was back.

 

[Florinthe Othal]

Florinthe made slow progress heading towards the temple district. The busy crowds, constant pickpockets and her preference for avoiding the main thoroughfares made it all the more difficult. Instead, the alleyways she favoured, snaked their way around this cesspit of a city and would stop without rhyme or reason.

Eventually, however, she made it towards her destination. That said, she was clueless about where to begin. There were temples dedicated to all manner of gods and miscreants here in Cerak, even a makeshift Gerra altar, yet only a few would be willing to offer sanctuary and succour to weary travellers.

She knew it wouldn't be wise to ask around specifically on seeking sanctum. There were eyes and ears everywhere in Cerak, each one waiting to pounce and steal everything you're worth. Likewise, while she had been adamant that these pirates were nothing but superstitious fools, Jeriah's comments had made her reconsider. After all, it wouldn't be particularly hard for someone to offer sanctuary as a ruse, only to sell them down the river later.

Sighing to herself, she pressed deeper, hoping a few strolls around the block would provide further illumination.

 

[Jeriah Thackett]

Thackett sat with his back to the wall and watched the door carefully. She had been gone for quite a long time now. He would never dismiss the possibility of being sold out.

The kitchens here had a back door, but anyone coming to collect him would probably know that too. His paranoia only grew as time passed.

However, he kept it at bay with a bowl containing a slice of pie that was far too large for one man and another mug of ale.

It would be a shame if she betrayed him. For a Dreadlord he had been coming to quite enjoy her company.

 

[Florinthe Othal]

It wasn't too far past sunset before Florinthe strutted back into the bar. Her attire had changed completely and she was wearing a long white woollen robe. Scoping the tavern, she spotted Jeriah and made her way towards him.

"Oh fantastic, you saved me some pie, I was famished." She beamed from ear to ear and began to pick a few mouthfuls from his pie, savouring each bite.

"We're in luck, I found an Anirian priest doing a pilgrimage towards one of the Annuanaki shrines. After some... persuading... he supplied me some robes and can shelter us in the temple for a couple of days." She smiled innocently, but it was plain to see the young woman had given this pilgrim quite a bit more than a simple talking to.

"So, how did you fare?" She spoke calmly, passing a matching woollen robe over the table towards Jeriah.

 

[Jeriah Thackett]

Thackett looked down at the robe and grinned at her resourcefulness. There was a hint of strain in the corners of his eyes as he tucked the robe against his lap. He playfully batted at her hand and waved for the innkeeper to bring some more food out to them. He hadn't overordered so that she could steal from his plate.

"I have the names of several ships and captains who are not so discerning about who they take on as passengers. I'll list them all for you later with their expected times."

Jeriah couldn't rule out those captains that had arrived bearing a hold full of slaves given their needs, but he hoped not to pass over coin to such a man.

"You know you are rather...more capable than I expected for a Dreadlord. At least beyond throwing magic around if you follow..."

 

[Florinthe Othal]

Florinthe harumphed noisily at Jeriah as he batted her away. She was really enjoying picking at that pie, it was delicious. Thankfully, however, the innkeeper popped over sharpish and presented an equally oversized portion that she promptly devoured.

"Perfect, once we're on the ship I can give us a tailwind, I shouldn't think any of the slavers here have any capable weather workers, so we'll be on the home stretch." She smiled a bittersweet smile, her journey with the lovable rogue was coming to an end. At least, it would be if they survived the next hurdle of their danger-wrought plan. Sad times indeed.

"Oh, I see you're familiar with our work then?" She smiled, accepting the compliment happily, there were too few of them in Vel'Anir so it made a welcome change. "The house I've sworn too is the best of a bad bunch, really. They do a lot to make the citizen's everyday life better, so, we, in particular, have to do a smidge more than simple magic throwing... Virak on the other hand." She trailed off, shaking her head, Anirian politics was never a fun subject.

"Anyway, you're likewise as competent for a petty thief. Although, if you were anything less, I'd have probably thrown you out of a window by now." She smiled in jest, he was good company at least, it had made the stint here in Cerak significantly more enjoyable.

 

[Jeriah Thackett]

Thackett didn't know Vel Anir politics as well as he perhaps should have done. His knowledge was about the layers of Vel Anir power that likely fell well below the levels of the named family members. Many of them probably had a hand in crime, but it was just somewhere their money went.

The dreadlords were larger than life figures and feared across the continent. Florinthe seemed remarkably...human. Her subtle touch with the dice rollers the night before would have earned her a spot on a job crew without any magical abilities.

"Petty...petty thief?"

Thackett's fork came to an abrupt halt over his wooden bowl of pie. He wasn't truly offended but he was going to milk this one out.

He tried to hold her gaze, but the corner of his lips twitched.

 

[Florinthe Othal]

"Would you prefer common-or-garden crook instead?" She smiled playfully, she couldn't remember having this much fun for a long time.

"When we've finished this little escapade, I'm sure I'll be dreading the day my offer of a favour comes back to haunt me." She smirked at Jeriah, in reality, she was quite excited to one day be called upon to assist in some cunning heist or random plot - much better than a Dreadlord mission in any case. "And please refrain from anything that could cause an international incident, I don't need another one of those."

She quickly finished off her pie, ordering a flagon of rum each for the both of them. Neat of course.

"Now, what shall our next steps be, do you reckon?"

 

[Jeriah Thackett]

"You keep this rudeness up and it is most definitely going to be a problematic request," Thackett laughed, throwing the dreadlord a wink. "It will take me some time to work out how I'm going to elevate my usual level of trouble to international incident, but be sure that I will give it some thought."

Thackett washed down his food and placed his mug down with an air of finality. Time to leave this Inn and if everything went well the entire island before long.

"There are a number of slavers who might be holding political prisoners or more valuable individuals. The short square tower of black stone near our market? That is the most likely."

 

[Florinthe Othal]

"Oh, Jeriah... You underestimate me. Nothing's a problematic request if I'm involved." She winked and smiled to herself. Nodding along to the rest of his talk, she had no doubt that this man could cause trouble - but she had no doubt there'd be a lot of fun along the way.

"Yeah, we'll head there then, let's head off sharpish." She rose from her chair and plunked a few coins on the table for the innkeeper. Florinthe paused briefly, remembering a sudden weight around her. "When we're somewhere with fewer eyes, remind me to arm you."

Scouting for temples to claim sanctuary wasn't her only job today and, with a small dosage of magic, she'd been able to relieve several knives and makeshift weapons from various, so-called, pilgrims.

Without waiting for a response, Florinthe set off and was out the door in moments.

 

[Jeriah Thackett]

Nothing? he thought to himself. With a glance over his shoulder back at the stairs that led to the rooms he wondered if an opportunity had been missed. He stood up, added another few coppers and strode out of the inn. There was only forwards now. Looking back was never healthy.

They stopped at an alley close to the slave markets they had escaped themselves. This was not the kind of city to increase patrols, but the markets themselves likely had even more private muscle than before. The tower itself would have a thick door. Which was probably just paper to a Dreadlord.

"How many weapons did you steal exactly?" he asked.

 

[Florinthe Othal]

Florinthe ducked into the alleyway with Jeriah and took care to make sure she was particularly away from view. Pausing briefly, she considered the question before speaking. "Maybe about 7 or so?" She must admit, she had quite enjoyed lightening the pockets of a few ruffians.

Lifting her robe up delicately to expose her midriff, she revealed several knives, daggers, shivs and other blades that seemed to hang precariously from a belt at her waist. In fact, it was a miracle she had not impaled herself. "Take your pick, although, try to leave me as many as you can."

Smiling contentedly to herself she quickly scanned the location and began to consider a plan of attack.

"Can we pay someone to make a distraction? If we can get to that door I can pop that lock and get us through." It was a large, strong, oaken door, but the lock would be delicate and a simple pulse of her magic could render the delicate tumblers and other intricacies inert.

 

[Jeriah Thackett]

Thackett took a single long dagger. He didn't appreciate such weapons, but the appearance of being armed and dangerous was often more important than skill. It slipped out of sight as if it had vanished from the air.

"We would have to go a distance to be safe," he said. "And I mean literal distance. Half the beggars around here will report to the local criminals who also run the slave pens."

He looked up at the dark, squat tower. Not so foreboding to an army, but it was going to challenge for two people.

"Could you set the markets nearby on fire quietly? That would probably get the guards down from those stairs?"

 

[Florinthe Othal]

"Hmm, good point. I didn't think of that." She nodded as he spoke, taking in the sights of the market square around her. Florinthe wasn't quite sure what she was looking for, but she'd know it when she saw it.

There.

In the distance, nestled in the heart of a ramshackle marketplace, was a small fabric seller decorated half-heartedly with cheap fabric and bunting. Florinthe nodded calmly towards the stand, then beckoned Jeriah towards the stairs.

It was easy enough, slipping into the masses as they went about their day. She allowed a few moments of anonymity to pass and, once comfortable, moved with the throng of people. In moments she passed the stand, her palm, empowered with sparks of lightning, caressed a bolt of cloth. The following click and zap went undetected against the ambient noise.

Content, she replicated the feat on several more bits of fabric, before skulking away from the crowd and ducking into a nearby alleyway closer to the stairs.

Smoke ensued, screams and panics soon began to overcome the market and, shortly thereafter, the guards deserted their posts. She flashed a smile from across the square at Jeriah and began to inhale deeply. Carefully, the lock began to suck in air and she began to warp, fold and condense the matter into a small unstable form within the interior of the delicate mechanisms. As the Dreadlord drew closer, she released the energy. Pop. A small, contained, explosion chimed out from the lock and insignificant tendrils of smoke drifted from within.

"Age before beauty." She stated smugly towards Jeriah.

 

[Jeriah Thackett]

"Battlemages before chancers carrying knives? No?" Thackett tried before pushing open the door to the tower. "He'd best fucking be in this one."

There was an empty entrance hall with an unnocupied desk. There were to doors leading away and the circular stairs ahead. A ledger sat on the desk.

Jeriah quickly turned it around, hopeful that this could answer the question immediately.

"Damn, they're using code names for their prisoners."

Of course they were. These were important prisoners and no one wanted a paper trail. Somewhere there would be a cypher, but they had no time.

"Four other guards on duty."

 

[Florinthe Othal]

"I don't know why you're complaining. Honestly, considering your luck so far, he'll probably be around the next corner." Her eyes narrowed as she considered her statement for a moment, she hoped that his incredible good luck would hold.

Florinthe snuck a peek at the ledger and quickly her mind ran over some known cyphers that she was familiar with. It was futile, however, and each of her attempts was met with failure.

"I think we've got two options... Fight our way through." She paused, eyeing the rogue curiously, before shrugging. "Or we sneak around and try to find our prisoner manually?" Florinthe sighed. Neither options seemed particularly great, but Florinthe was a tactician, she enjoyed certainty and plans. Reacting without such forethought was hard and far from her forte.

 

[Jeriah Thackett]

"I suggest we hold off the fighting as long as we can," said Thackett. "Given how small this place is we won't avoid it, but you can kill them when we have to."

Thackett was an excellent thief, but he was true master at ensuring that he did not have to do the dirty work.

"Try the next floor while I check each of these doors."

It was a good way to ensure that Florinthe met any resistance first. Unfortunately this floor only contained a small armory and the guards sleeping quarters.

 

[Florinthe Othal]

"Alright, sounds a good a plan as any." She nodded as she spoke, oblivious to Jeriah's attempt to use her as a meat shield.

Carefully she parted ways with the rogue and soon managed to locate the stairwell that wound its way up to the next floor. Keeping to the shadows, she slowly ascended to the stairs.

Upon reaching the next floor, Florinthe ducked into a small alcove. Fortunately, she had just avoided detection by two passing thugs as they stumbled through a routine patrol.

She smiled. A patrol meant something worth protecting. Hopefully, that meant she was nearing her quarry.

 

[Jeriah Thackett]

Jeriah started up the stairs before he heard the sound of guards coming back down them. Silently swearing to himself he headed back down as quietly as possible.

"You hear something?" mentioned a guard, clearly confused at hearing footsteps and not seeing someone coming up the stairs towards them.

"Nah, saw Jay and Nakard running to check on that fire."

Thackett slipped around the corner from the stairs and pressed himself against the stone. He waited as still as he possibly could until the two guards had made it to the door.

Jeriah thought he was away up the stairs when he heard a call of: "Hey!"

He thundered up the stairs calling out Florinthe's name.

 

[Florinthe Othal]

Florinthe smiled cheerfully to herself. She hadn't too much experience with infiltration, but she was quite happy with her progress so far. Two patrols had passed her by and they had failed to detect a single note of any Dreadlord sneaking under their noses.

In fact, as Florinthe listened for any further movement, she heard her name being called in the distance. Thankfully, for Jeriah at least, she hadn't made too much progress away from the stairwell and arrived just in time to see him bounding up the stairs.

Time froze. Her eyes met his. Her face erupting into a shit-eating grin. She oozed smugness and satisfaction. Her expressions telegraphing a single, clear, message "Oh, got caught, did we? Don't worry, I'll clean up your mess".

Mere moments later and the guards rounded the staircase, two blades fell into Florinthe's delicate palm. Before they had time to clock the second intruder, a blur, and a single knife materialised in the throats of the two guards. Unfortunately, while her aim had been to silence them before they signalled for help, the two corpses fell backwards and each took a thunderous tumble down the stairs.

"Well, guess we gotta do this the hard way then."

 

[Jeriah Thackett]

"And I wish you the very best of luck," said Thackett with an exaggerated bow. At times like this he wished he also had a Melfa around. She wouldn't have made quite such a show of having to do the dirty work. Then again, she would have also made more of a mess.

Thackett took a smooth step backwards as several guards came down the stairs. Unfortunately one came up the stairs from behind them. Either he had been shirking his duties or tucked away asleep somewhere.

"Guess I'll deal with that one then..." he offered helpfully.

 

[Florinthe Othal]

Florinthe nodded, time seemingly slowed for her. She considered several approaches to dealing with this and, had she been usually armed, it wouldn't be a problem. But this was unusual times. She was unable to summon any significant magic without a material focus - namely a weapon - so she was going to have to get her hands dirty.

She shot an exasperated glare at Jeriah, two blades pulled from her midriff and, very suddenly, she uncoiled like a spring. Lightning began to surge through her arms, warping and arcing around her mismatched blades. The electricity caused her to twitch and snarl, it was untempered and raw. She hated using this magic but her options were limited.

Florinthe met the first opponent, their blades meeting briefly. The energy leapt from her own weapon and coursed from his sword through his body. The current wasn't too powerful, Florinthe didn't want to run the risk of burning herself, but it was enough. The opponent jerked, twitched and stumbled all in the same moment. It was brief, but it left him defenceless. Without hesitation, she struck. Exploiting the sudden loss of control, she planted her blade deep into his neck. Her lightning faded, disappearing almost instantly.

She cursed, clearly that wasn't meant to happen. Her brain, however, flashed. An idea formed. Without warning, she plucked the weighty sword from the dying opponent and fled. For a few moments, to all involved, it would seem as if Florinthe had abandoned her comrade and begun to escape. Attention suddenly shifted, reluctant to follow the mage, the guards turned to the stairwell. To Jeriah.

An uncomfortable few seconds passed before a gale suddenly exploded within the corridor. Florinthe stood, at one end of the narrow passage, twirling the heavy blade expertly in her hand. With each spin, the blade collected more wind and soon begun to spin independently from the Dreadlord. Silence fell over the area, the only sound to be heard was the eerie whistle of the blade hissing through the air.

A blur.

The weapon spun, end over end. An impossibly strong gale powering its rotation and soon it lost any semblance of a sword and, instead, looked like a single metallic disc. The guards stood in horror, trapped in the narrow confines of the corridor, as their death approached them. Even if they had time to react, there was nowhere to go.

Screams, blood, gore.

The guards - poorly trained and poorly armed - were bisected at the waist. Their bodies and legs falling independently of each other. She sighed, it wasn't the cleanest victory, but it was something.