Fate - First Reply The Great Escape.

[Jeriah Thackett]

"Now, you should understand that if you kill me, you're going to have to face her," Jeriah said, jabbing over his shoulder with one thumb. The guard on the stairs didn't even have any armor on. He must have been sleeping somewhere downstairs when the racket started.

The guard leaned his head to one side for a look. His gaze slowly returned to Thackett.

"Least I could say I got one of em."

"I cannot even fault that logic," Thackett replied. Florinthe was doing her thing, launching a sword into the maelstrom. She wouldn't see him put the knife away. Wouldn't hear him mutter to himself: "in a way, this counts as a good cause..."

Florinthe would have heard a loud crack, followed by the clattering of the guard rolling down the stairs.

"I got one!" he declared proudly, knife back in his hand.

 

[Florinthe Othal]

Florinthe stood, her white robes untarnished by the battle. Her breathing was ragged but steadying. She strode back towards the stairwell, avoiding the half-corpses, blood and general gore that covered the entire floor.

"Wow Jeriah, colour me impressed." She spoke in jest, but her face showed some genuine surprise at Jeriah's actions. She had not expected him to be able to take on a guard with a simple crude blade. This man seemed to be full of surprises.

She paused and considered their situation. The defeat of the guards would buy them a little bit of time, so they'd have to begin their search as soon as they could.

"Back to business. I need you to search on this floor. Our target is a fat, balding man. He's terribly ugly, crooked nose and a scar under his left eye." She smiled, then disappeared up the stairwell. She was on the hunt. Florinthe smelled blood.

 

[Jeriah Thackett]

"I might go and see if I can lock the front door first... Actually no I won't. If the two knuckle heads from out front come back and find it locked they'll go straight to get help."

Better he thought, by far, to be caught in the act and have a chance to silence them. Thackett looked down the stairs at the guard he had disabled as if surprised by himself. He was.

"Leap frog each other up," he suggested. "Only four more floors. That one has keys," he said, pointing to what had once been a man. He was now genuinely concerned by what Florinthe was capable of.

 

[Florinthe Othal]

Florinthe paused halfway up the stairwell and turned to face the rogue as he spoke, nodding slightly at his suggestions. "Alright, we'll grab the keys and have a nosey around together then."

From her vantage point, she could see the lower torso of the disfigured corpse. A slight glimmer where a set of keys rested and a puddle of guts and gore spread out all around it.

"I guess, as well... Seeing as I'm already half-way up the stairs, you're gonna have to get those keys." She shrugged. Florinthe really didn't like the idea of reaching into a puddle of human soup and innards to retrieve the keys. The mere thought had caused her to shiver.

Even if she was the one that had caused such a mess, she at least had some standards.

 

[Jeriah Thackett]

Thackett turned towards her, crinkling up his nose. He looked between her and the corpse twice more before giving a resigned sigh and moving to fetch them. He didn't feel like arguing with her after that display.

"Oh...oh dear..." he went as he tried to tip toe around the blood. There was simply too much of it to avoid. He wiped down the keys on the man's tunic. They didn't wear a uniform, but Thackett realised they all had the same tattoo on the inside of the wrist. A minotaur's head. What passed for law and order here was paid for by the largest criminal organisations.

If they were captured again they would not make it to the slave markets.

"Let's hurry," he said gravely.

 

[Florinthe Othal]

She giggled as she saw Jeriah's distaste in having to retrieve the keys. This was her chance, she'd have to take it. If she let this slide she'd be kicking herself all day. "I... Guess you can say, we've caught you red-handed... eh Jeriah."

She burst into laughter, wiped the tears away from her eyes and slowly regained composure. She nodded at his suggestion and made her way up the staircase. Thankfully, it seemed, for now at least the current contingent of guards protecting the place were either asleep, deceased, or not present.

A cold wind caressed her neck. Very occasionally, she could detect movements and ripples in the air. It came without warning and disappeared almost immediately. "The next floor is clear, the top floor... however... Maybe stay behind me."

 

[Jeriah Thackett]

"Well, at least you found that one funny..." Thackett grumbled. He supposed it was about the level of humour he could expect from someone raised to be a destructive sorcerer from a young age.

Thoughts of a retort were dashed by her cautious instruction. She had just cut down an entire corridor of guards and now she was worried?

"Why?" he hissed, sidestepping behind Florinthe. "What is it?"

 

[Florinthe Othal]

"Oh come one, that was a good one, don't act like you wouldn't have thought about saying it either." She smiled, but deep down she was going increasingly nervous. She was poorly armed, which stymied her ability to use magic.

"I don't wish to alarm..." She cursed herself, that sentence always sparked alarm and worry in those that heard it. "I think there are some blight orcs up there." She couldn't be certain, but whatever was up there was big and meaty.

Right now, without any weapons, she wasn't sure how she could fight them. "We need to find the armoury, or we need to avoid fighting them altogether. If they catch us before then, I'm not sure I can win." She paused, letting that sink in as they strode up the stairs to the next floor.

Florinthe turned her head towards Jeriah. "Let's hope your luck holds out, for both our sakes."

 

[Jeriah Thackett]

Thackett reached out and grasped the outside of Florinthe's shoulder. Concern was etched into his face. For once he did not wear an easy smile on his lips.

"Unless they are caged I see no reason why there would be blight orcs here," he hissed.

"Are you sure you want to go up there? Is it still likely your captain is here or have we walked into something else? Is he worth it?"

The scattergun of questions went from his mind to his mouth with no filter.

 

[Florinthe Othal]

Florinthe inhaled, then exhaled deeply. Calmness washed over her and slowly her anxiety began to fade. She hoped Jeriah was right. He must be, blight orcs shouldn't be this far from home - what use would they have for slaves. She shuddered, perhaps some questions were better left unanswered.

"You're right, we'll check the other floors first. If we don't need to risk the top floor we shouldn't bother." She bit her lip, hoping that they'd find him soon. She didn't enjoy the uncertainty, but she had to complete her mission.

She didn't answer his final question. The man was an imbecile, but he was her mission leader. She had her mission, she knew what she had to do. Florinthe, for once, remained silent as she began her search.

 

[Jeriah Thackett]

There was something very human about her in that moment. The conflict of duty and her feelings. Real fear too, for someone so powerful to appreciate their sense of mortality was very human. He had assumed that a dreadlord upbringing would have torn that part of her away.

Jeriah started trying doors or opening the windows on locked cells. Most were empty.

"Please," begged a young man with thick dark hair. "I am a political prisoner from the cortosi Royal line and..."

Jeriah cut him off by sliding the window closed.

"Well that's not him."

 

[Florinthe Othal]

Florinthe sighed as she checked the last cell on the floor. Another nameless figure from a backwater city, half-dead against the cell wall. Part of her wished she could release these people, do some act of kindness. However, a greater part of her knew the futility. Without exception they'd be caught, they'd be broken - if they weren't already - and their suffering would ultimately be worse. At least, she'd like to think, after their ransoms a few might be returned home.

She had admitted defeat, although she knew it was coming. When she'd sensed the figures on the top floor she'd felt a familiar sensation from one of the silhouettes the ripples had painted. It was the mission commander. She'd wanted to be wrong, hoped against hope, but there was no denying it now.

"Jeriah, I need to apologise." She took a deep breath, slowly steadying herself as she returned to his side.

"I wasn't honest with you, he's more than a pudgy noble - he's a bastard of the King - and I need to kill him."

She let the words sit uncomfortably. Vel'Anir was a city of strength, their power was their pride, and their reputation for ruthless efficiency was everything. If word got out that such an esteemed member of society had been captured, it would shatter the illusion of invincibility. Whatever it took, he would be dying today.

"This isn't your fight, you've taken me this far. I don't expect you to follow me." She nodded solemnly and strode towards the stairwell.

 

[Jeriah Thackett]

"Why?" asked Jeriah. He squared his shoulders towards Florinthe and furrowed his brow.

He has come to expect deception at every turn in life. Honour among thieves was a way of another way of saying snitches got stitches. Thackett felt a holt flash of shame when he remembered that he had no always been such an accomplished liar himself.

"Why do you need to kill this man? What has he done? I thought you came here to save him."

 

[Florinthe Othal]

Florinthe stopped.

Why.

She had escaped, she was free, yet here she was circling back so her country could save face? Was the reputation of state so fragile she needed to risk her own life for some pudgy, corpulent, noble?

She sighed. She'd never really taken to the blind, unquestioning, loyalty her comrades seemed to have adopted.

She had even brought along a man, one quickly becoming her friend, under false pretences needlessly.

Why?

The question rang again, her heart racing as she tried to justify her duty. Dreadlords didn't question, they acted. Right now, however, she was not among her fellows, nor was she being scrutinised by a noble - her actions didn't matter.

She bit her lip, her hand shaking as she clutched onto her dagger tighter.

"I could give you a long, rehearsed message about duty and honour. About protecting Anirian interests. But you're right... Why? Why does he deserve death? Why do I place Anir, needlessly, above my own safety - above yours?" She breathed, long and hard.

"Fuck that, we're done Jeriah, let's get out of here."

 

[Jeriah Thackett]

Thackett narrowed his eyes. There was no threat in his gaze, but for once he looked as if he was raking events entirely seriously.

"What are the repurcussions if he remains here? Why kill him instead of freeing him?"

He remained stood before her, not turning towards the escape she had so suddenly offered him. Given their interactions so far in was a surprising turn in his demeanour.

 

[Florinthe Othal]

"If he remains here, he brings dishonour to the state and tarnishes our reputation, or so I've been led to believe." She sighed, her half-hearted speech signalling how much she actually cared for Anirian's business.

"Freeing him isn't an option, it'd be hard smuggling him out of Cerak without aid. He's very noticeable." Florinthe shuddered, remembered the bloated man's painful advances towards the female sailors.

"We either kill him, or we don't. But for once, I don't feel like being a mindless, suicidal, puppet." She lightened up at that remark, it was a rarity for her to speak her mind without recourse. It was almost therapeutic.

 

[Jeriah Thackett]

"Then that sounds like a good excuse to get the fuck out of here and not go and look around upstairs," Thackett said. He slipped back into his usual mannerisms easily. His hands had been clenched tight at his sides, but now they slowly unfurled.

He stepped out of Florinthe's way and made his way down the stairs a few at a time. He took the keys he had been given and slipped them into the outside of one of the door locks. He left the set there without turning them. The man inside the cell rushed to the door and started trying to squeeze his arm between the bars.

"He might be able to reach those in a few minutes. Should keep any returning guards busy."

 

[Florinthe Othal]

"Sounds good. For what it's worth, I'm sorry for dragging you here and lying." Florinthe bit her lip as she made her way to the exit. Apologising wasn't a skill of hers, nor any Dreadlord she imagined, so much so that the words almost sounded foreign.

"Perfect, oh I'd love to be a fly on the wall and see the guard's faces when they see the mess on the first floor." She laughed, imagining some poor fellow on a routine patrol at the bloodbath they'd left. Florinthe would have had more sympathy for them if they weren't slavers.

"Guess we head back to the temple and stay safe for a night, I saw a church on the way honouring some God of wine if you wanted to stop there." She smiled casually as the two began to slip out of the building.

 

[Jeriah Thackett]

There was smoke still billowing from the market, though Jeriah caught no sight of the flames. He turned them away from the bottom of the stairs but walked slowly to avoid attracting attention.

"Careful with lying," Thacket said, "eventually it becomes as easy as breathing."

His posture shifted as he walked, that tension slowly melting away. Two men ran past them carrying buckets of water. Most of it went on the floor. Jeriah didn't imagine much would be left when they reached what was left of the fire.

"Now was that code for something or are they really giving away wine? We have enough coin to buy some anyway. Though a temple is likely to turn us out as a pair of drunks so we might be better off picking an establishment out of the way and taking an early ship."

 

[Florinthe Othal]

"You can say that again, it comes with the job though." She shrugged, paused, then realised the profession of her associate. Florinthe blushed but said nothing as she ducked into Jeriah's shadow. Best to follow the expert.

As she assessed the market, Florinthe's heart sunk at the destruction she had wrought needlessly. While these people were, to some extent, supporting the economy of this blighted slave town - she had no doubt many were not here through choice. Her actions had consequences, and many lives would be worse off for her arson.

A drink, that's what she needed.

"Well, I didn't check, but I assume a temple dedicated to wine probably has some nice stock. I guess your idea makes sense though. What do you think people do in Cerak... for fun I mean? The brothel's aside?" She spoke curiously, it was hard to imagine this city as being anything more than a giant slave market.

 

[Jeriah Thackett]

"Pick fights? Watch people fight to death in the pits?" Jeriah offered. "I think I know the temple you're referring to. Or at least I know the religion. I could go for some wine."

Jeriah wasn't one for self-reflection; there was too much danger down that path. Today, as they made their way to the temple his head was full of paths they could have taken. He thought of all the different ways the day could have gone and wondered if any over them could have left him feeling less hollow.

 

[Florinthe Othal]

She listened to his suggestion as they ambled through the streets of Cerak, yet it only seemed to fill her with more questions.

"The people of Cerak can't all be bad... can they? How do you think a good person copes here?" She had to stop herself from springing more questions onto her weary companion. The idea of good versus evil had always escaped her understanding. Hers was a world of lies, deceit and control. The real world, how real people functioned, had always escaped her grasp.

"Ignore me, wine sounds good right now." She sighed and lead them through the narrow streets towards the temple quarter - namely a squat cobblestone building, dedicated to the worship of wine.

 

[Jeriah Thackett]

"Good and evil are not as cleanly separated as some might say," Thackett muttered. He could remember coming to that conclusion himself. That was when everything had started to change.

There were several monks outside the temple. Around the hems of their grey robes they had blue bunches of grapes sewn all the way around.

"Care to make a donation!" one of them slurred. In one hand he held out a begging bowl and the other a cup of wine. Thackett's trained eyes saw the thieves waiting across the street. He imagined they would follow anyone who took wine without payment.

"I feel we have a whole night to dedicate to your god," Thackett said. He dropped coins in the bowl, took the mug of wine and stepped into the temple.

 

[Florinthe Othal]

"I suppose that makes sense... Although some of my comrades are quite cleanly separated. This one girl, she enjoys projecting a person's darkest thoughts and memories until they... uh..." She paused. Her comrade's powers were frightening to watch, even now she dared not share them. In the end, she decided it was best not to finish that sentence.

Florinthe's mouth started salivating as they approached the temple. It stank of pungent alcohol and she found a large smile grow across her face. Instinctively she ignored the begging man, but once she clocked onto Jeriah's gaze and the thieves she scattered a few coins into his bowl.

"I've never really been exposed to much religion, but I feel like I could definitely learn something from these holy men." She grinned, as the two of them entered the temple they were presented with a mug of white and a mug of red.

A brief explanation detailing the dual faces of their God, the symbolism of the wine and various other intricacies around the religion followed. Eventually, the man ushered them towards a small alcove decorated like an upmarket tavern and left the two alone.

"So, what do you plan to do with your freedom now?" She smiled. They'd had this conversation before, but it was nice to take her mind off her own return.

 

[Jeriah Thackett]

"You definitely could learn something from these men, but it might not be the lesson you're thinking of. Try not providing another donation for a while and see if your wine comes from the same jug as someone else's," Jeriah mused

"I will do the same thing with my freedom as I have been doing for some time now. Trying to lighten the purses of those who are bearing too great a load," Thackett replied. He almost managed to look pleased with himself.

"Do you feel that perhaps you are having a crisis of faith?" he asked suddenly.