Escape from Radasanth

[grim137]

((Closed. Takes place directly after Return of the Monster (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=406).))

“Get up bloodsucker, it's time for you be executed,” said a bulky rough looking guard that smelled as if he didn’t even know what a bath was.

“About damn time. What took you so long?” responded the vampire sarcastically.

Tarry had been sitting quietly in his jail cell for the past two days and it was all because of that incident with the guards and Storm Veritas. During the whole time Tarry had sat and brewed in his cell. He amused himself by thinking of all the elaborate and violent ways he was going to murder Mr. Veritas when he got out. During his time the guards had given him no food, no water and no blood nor did Tarry have a cell mate because the guards must have feared what would happen to any unfortunate prisoner trapped in the cell with the vampire and rightfully so. Needless to say, by now Tarry was looking forward to the execution because it offered him his best chance to escape.

It was a well-known fact in Radasanth that executions were well publicized. They had actually become so popular the city actually set up seats, advertised scheduled executions and sold tickets. This was a good thing for Tarry because it was also a well-known fact that the guards would never risk hurting innocent civilians, which was a key difference between them and the vampire. Escaping into the crowd would make things much easier because it would dramatically reduce the methods the guards would be willing to use to capture him again.

As several guards bound Tarry’s hands and feet with rope another one came in with all his equipment. Slowly yet forcefully the guard put Tarry’s armor, weapons and cloths back on their owner. The blind vampire didn’t know why they did this nor did he care, he figured he would find out soon enough anyways. Besides it would make his escape that much easier.

“I don’t know what sort of strange ritual you morons are doing by giving me my equipment back but I guess I should thank you. It means I won’t have to deal with you buffoons later in order to get it back.”

As the guards carried the vampire out onto the platform where he was to be executed cheers of a bloodthirsty crowd filled the air. Tarry felt himself being bound and tied to what felt like a wooden stake. It took approximately two seconds for his mind to figure out what the method of execution was to be. He was supposed to be burned to death at the stake, and judging from the cheers of the crowd it was much to their delight.

Before the executioner lit the fire however first there was a little speech to be made by some sort of official guard captain or something. It mattered not to Tarry.

“Citizens of Radasanth we have gathered here to witness the burning of the infamous vampire Tarry Whealer! Mr. Whealer you have been charged with one account of murdering a civilian, two accounts of murdering city guards including one guard captain, one account of resisting arrest, one account of public endangerment, one account of aiding a wanted criminal, and two accounts of violent assault on upon city guards! This is in addition to the countless other crimes you have committed not only in the nation of Corone but the other nations of Althanas as well! You are to be burned at the stake with your belongings so that said belongings may be cleansed of your dark spirit! To the people of Radasanth I bid you to stick around, as this villain’s stuff will be sold later at the auction block! Executioner you may start the fire!” exclaimed the captain over the loud and excited roar of the crowd.

Almost on cue the executioner took a lit torch and set fire to the twigs, coals and hay at the base of Tarry’s stake. If things went according to the plan of the Radasanth law enforcers then the flames would creep up the stake and slowly but surely Tarry would burn to death but the vampire himself had other plans and the cheers of crowd were about to turn into to screams.

From the wrists and ankles of the vampire, where the ropes bound him to the stake, two bursts of ki energy exploded. The result sent panic and choas through the crowd as bits of coals, embers, pieces of the stake and little bits of stake in every direction. Before the bewildered guards even had a chance to figure out what had just happened the crafty assassin launched himself off the platform and into the panicked crowd. It was finally time for Tarry Whealer to make his escape from Radasanth.

[Storm Veritas]

The bumbling fools of Radasanth never ceased to amaze him.

He didn’t know how many times he’d been able to evade capture, or better yet escape from the eye of the police altogether. It had been merely two nights - just 48 short hours - since the rampage outside the tavern. He didn’t know if there was anyone left to trust, anyone to turn to, and was terrified upon leaving the scene. He would be hunted day and night, not a second to rest, not a place to hide.

Or so he thought.

It appeared he had overestimated his importance to the town, and that the ramblings of freshly assaulted guards and known drunks was not held in high regard. What began as “the man with the electric hands” had fast morphed into an electric explosion, and then more quickly still to a man with a gun, some common thug. Crime was rampant, and the town had no desire to seek out new baddies to have to overcome.

Plus, they found their scapegoat. Thanks, old friend, looks like turnaround is fair play.

Tarry Whealer was no Samaritan, but he wasn’t the sole culprit in the killings. He had been an unwilling and unlikely accomplice to Storm, and lacked the fleet feet necessary to get away. Veritas smiled as he recalled the vision of Whealer being forced to surrender below as the lithe firestarter leapt away on the rooftops, the outcries of felled men trying to draw the attention of the first responders to the other one, the evil one, the mage that had escaped.

Fools. To think that I feared you f*cking imbeciles.

He laughed again as they walked by, and he watched, unseen amidst the chaos. There was going to be a burning today, and he would be a happy witness. Whealer was, after all, an exceptional prick, and had some sort of ill-gotten vendetta against Storm. Perhaps it was pride, perhaps it was vengeance. It didn’t matter much. Storm would have to see him die to believe it, and watch his own sins evaporate into the air with the noxious fumes of smoking flesh. With Tarry’s death would come Storm’s innocence, at least in the eyes of a bloodthirsty public. They were around him, about him, cheering and hollering and drinking. The bad guy was caught, he would pay, and life would go on. The good folks that protected them would be avenged.

Oh shit… what are these retards doing…?

It didn’t take tea leaves or some special touch to see the writing on the wall when Whealer was ushered out in weak binds. Inside, they were all treated the same, and the constables paid little heed to legends of the warriors that were far too powerful to be healed. Storm knew better. He started backing away as soon as he saw it. Something was awry.

Tarry inevitably broke the binds, breaking free with all the shock of a prostitute missing her period. There may have been an authoritative presence around, but none were a match for the muscular battle-hardened sadist. Along with shrieks of disbelief and horror was madness, people rushing the pyre stage and being bowled over all along the way. It was all breaking down, and there was nothing he could do. Torn, he didn’t know whether to aid the beast or attack him. Ultimately, discretion was the better part of valor.

Stay out of the light. If they see you with him, SOMEONE will have to figure it out. Even these idiots aren’t that inept.

Or so he hoped, backpedaling from the action. In his simple, untreated leather overcoat, he was everyman, and it was unlikely he’d be recognized amongst the melee.

Then again, it was unlikely that he’d get this far, and unlikely Tarry Whealer would be bound so poorly.

[Osato]

Radasanth was not so bad a place as I had thought. The sun of the new day had dawned and risen slightly over the horizon.

At my side was a wealth that I was not accustomed too, the weight of the purse dragging at my hip. Before me were the rather cheerful faces of the grateful watchmen. I shrugged off some offers to breakfast, smiled and slipped by other congratulations for others. It still seemed somewhat… surreal, the whole battling the mage with the lightning fingers and his vampire nemesis. Its after-affects were even stranger.

People looked to me like some hero, when in truth, I could think of myself as nothing more then a mercenary who saw opportunity. Did I know that the vampire, the infamous Tarry Whealer of all people, would be caught? Did I know that the hot-handed mage would turn out to be the equally nefarious Storm Veritas? No, a very big no, but few would ever hear that. If I had, honestly I would have never stepped foot outside the bar giving chase to a possible murderer like some damned hero.

Oh, but I would also never take the moment back. People thought I was somebody, somebody I was not, but somebody nonetheless. Jobs would be flowing in, not to mention the considerable amount of money that the watch offered for my continued help. Apparently “heroes” were a common occurrence in Radasanth, but not since the Hero of Radasanth (“Silence” Sei Orlouge) had anyone apparently stood up for the citizens.

“You commin’ ta watch, Osato?”

I turned and smiled as the heavy arm of the Captain rested across my shoulders, turning me towards the closest door. I had not planned on watching the vampire get burned. I was not one for the smell of burnt flesh and shrieks of the dying… of course I’d never heard them, but I could just imagine it. My imagination was rather vivid and quite enough for me. “I think I’m going to actually go out for a bit, look around maybe? Who knows, I might even run into that fiend Storm.”

Without having the man begin an argument I slipped from his arm and headed for the door a little faster. Once out I turned and fled to the crowd, my hand resting on the heavy yet not bulging purse at my side. Large coinage was a lot better for concealment, but it was also a little heavier. It was a good price to pay. When I finally came to the edge of the crowd, and what a large gathering that had come out too, I turned. For some strange reason I wanted to make sure things went well.

Overhead the sky was gleaming with the bright light of the sun. Clouds had dispersed for the day’s execution, allowing the unsympathetic “gods” to look down on the proceedings (if they were even there). But more specifically it allowed the sun to bake the fresh morning, leaving not a soul without a good slick of sweat. Despite the morning a smile was gracing my face, but my thoughts were elsewhere.

The vampire had just been strapped to the stake and the fires lit. A sick sensation washed over me. It could easily be me attached to that stake, especially if something less then noble was given to me as a task. Payment was payment, I wasn’t picky. But, to my surprise, the vampire broke from his bounds and was loosed into the crowds.

Without waiting for something further from the man I pushed forward, my hand already on my sword. The open air square was far better for my longsword than the dirty, musty alleyway outside of the tavern that we had fought but hours before. The black steel blade was rippled as if imitating the waves; it even reflected a bright glint from its surface. The sword helped a little to break the surging crowd as I rushed towards the vampire.

“What the bloody hell am I doing?” I muttered as I brandished the blade and pushed and shoved. “This is madness…” I had the money for his capture; I had a crowd to mask me from further “heroing”, and the gates of Radasanth not far away. Why I was running back, not even I could tell.

[grim137]

“It feels so good to be out of that damned cell.”

At that moment Tarry was feeling quite happy even if it was only briefly. The hot afternoon sun on his flesh, the fresh air going through his lungs, and the hard cement ground beneath his feet all felt great after being locked away for two days. But what felt the best to the deadly predator was the fear and panic in the air that was generated by the crowd. Tarry could almost smell the fear and panic generated by the crowd, and it sent an almost erotic sort of chill down his spine. The fact that not even 30 seconds ago the crowd had been taunting him and cheering for him to burn made their fear all the more delightful in the vampire’s twisted mind.

Yet amidst the chaos caused by his escape one life force quickly stuck out in Tarry’s mind. It was the little hero wannabe from two days ago that had helped screw him over and in the process, it seemed, had gained a good bit of gold from it. The best part was that the do-gooder seemed to want to play the valiant hero again and was coming straight at the vampire with his weapon drawn.

“Do you really want to die that badly you little prick or are you…son of a bitch!”

Tarry’s thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of several heavily armored feet stomping across the pavement coming straight for him. There were about one dozen heavily armed guards coming from one of the numerous streets that lead to the open town square where the vampire was making his escape. Leading the group was an unarmored human on horseback carrying a titanium long sword. The blind vampire assumed the man on the horse was one of the fabled rangers. Luckily for the vampire the thick crowd and the fear induce chaos that now controlled it slowed these armed forces down considerably.

“God that was fast. Either this is a training regiment that was suddenly called to duty to stop my escape, or they somehow suspected I would try something like this so they had those guys standby away from things until I did.”

Tarry now had two choices. He could either try and take on not only the hero but also a dozen guards plus the ranger or run away and escape while he could. He decided it was in his best interest to go with the second option. Unfortunately the ever-bothersome hero seemed to be blocking the quickest way to city gates and a battle would more than likely give the guards enough time to move in on him and more importantly cause them to close the gates. The vampire needed a quick distraction and a screaming infant in the arms of her fearful mother quickly provided the answer.

As the woman and child passed by him, Tarry quickly spun around and snatched the screaming infant out of her mother’s arms. The woman’s cries and pathetic begs to let her child go were lost upon the vampire as he turned his attention back towards the steel long sword brandishing hero.

“You want to be a hero? Then here catch!” With those words the criminal tossed the baby through the air at the hero.

Banking on the fact the hero would actually bother to try and catch the child, Tarry kicked off the ground. In a second he reached his full speed and began heading straight for the gates of Radasanth.

[Storm Veritas]

Being inconspicuous wasn’t much fun anyway.

He saw the events unfold so quickly that it bordered on obscene, the fight that he had barely escaped alive from just days before reconvening in town square. Whealer spotted him, and was coming after him. Terrible timing. Bad idea to show up. Here, there would be many, many more guards, but also more people. More innocent parties, more at risk. When Tarry Whealer grabbed the child and tossed it, Veritas was stunned the infant wasn’t hurtled at him, but the facts exposed themselves quickly. He threw it to the other one. That hero wanna-be, with the god complex. The unidentified one.

Aw, shit… It’s on, now, then.

It was crazy to get involved. Why would he do it? Was it the same reason he didn’t run? Was it the same reason he had remained in Radasanth? Why he had showed up in the first place?

Did he need to see Tarry Whealer die? Live?

He wasn’t sure. He had been tied to that merciless, horrible beast of a thing for years now, the shadowy figure haunting him around every corner. It was closure he needed this time, one way or the other. Live or die, he had to square things. Running from the peasant constables was easy enough; disappear for a month and they forget you existed. Too much crime to track them all in Corone, forget about the crime-concentrated metropolis of Radasanth.

Then it ends now. It ends here.

He was moving forward again, against the grain of the crowd. Head down, eyes up. Hands tingling, dancing, waiting to fire that first blast, and send the maniacal vamp reeling. No! He couldn’t. In the midst of the masses, he was another face. In his suit, another diplomat. Save the handful of people that saw him that night, he could be a do-gooder today, and kill Tarry Whealer in the process.

But flash that juice out here, and “Storm Veritas” becomes more than just a children’s horror story. He becomes real, and graduates to public enemy number one.

The perfectly legal knife at his hip, however, was a different story. It fell to his hand as he approached Whealer, moving fast through the sea of screaming people that parted and ran for their lives, a monster on the loose. It fell into place, and was perfectly perched to strike as he made that final lunge. Right foot push, the hand hammered forth, and his hand shuttled at the heart of the man-demon. The hood fell away from his face, leaving Whealer one good look at his killer before he would die.

[Osato]

Things went cold, quickly.

I could barely drop my weapon before the situation was thrown at me. A baby, screaming in defiance, squirmed through the air. People around stopped and pointed, the collective gasp was near audible. Some eyes were on me, others were on the baby, but the mothers were in her hands with tears running around their edges. It dawned on me, somewhere between the pinnacle of the baby’s precarious arch and the clatter of the sword against the cobblestones.

“Hero” was not a term used lightly. People did not give the title to the weak, the powerless, or those that did not try to make the world better. A hero was someone who went out of their way to help another, not someone that was the most powerful. I had made a small difference, for a day I really was a hero. I had stopped a threat and brought him to at least a semblance of justice. Now another opportunity had presented itself. It was not an act I took lightly, but one that was stolidly on my mind.

“Dear Thayne!” I blundered awkwardly with my hands outstretched. The baby, so small and fragile, touched the tips of my soft gloved hands. The metal gloves that covered most of them barely missed its soft skull. I fell, slowly stopping the child’s momentum as I did. The squeal continued piercing my ears even as my rump slammed against the ground. “Bloody hell!”

“Oh thank you! Thank you!”

I shrugged of the praise and grimaced as I leaned over painfully. The woman’s baby was still crying, and I had paid with a dull pain in my tailbone. I thought to myself, hoping I hadn’t broken the bone. As soon as I had the longsword in my hand again I looked around.

Again the crowd of people had formed and moved slowly. None of them moved faster than another, most were helping each other. Through them I could barely see anything. Where had Grim gotten to? Would he escape so easily… just as Storm had but two nights ago? “Osato, come with us!” It was the voice of one of the guards, heavily armed and armored this time. With them was a battle mage, strapped down with belts and sashes of small vials and weapons. His grin made me cringe.

“Which way did they go?” I asked as I spun the longsword to point downward, in case of colliding with any passersby. With the wall of steel that was arrayed before me, though, I though little would “happen” to bump into me. “I didn’t see…”

“Good catch, young soulless…” the voice was like venom to my ears. The crooked, yet perfect smile of the battle mage was the only one looking at me. His hands were glowing, one green one red, and his eyes were lit with an inner flame of some sort. I feared him, I feared his kind, and I feared the power of magic of which I could not understand. “I hope that the child fares well.”

Instead of retorting with a comment to heal it, I shook my head and pushed to the outside of the guards. One of them was enough to block the small man and his crimson cloaks from my sight. It was all I could ask for.

[grim137]

Tarry couldn’t help but smirk because it always made him a bit happy to see a plan work so perfectly. The city’s latest hero had lived up to the stereotype well by not having any foresight what so ever and letting a dangerous monster that would kill many more people escape in order to save one meaningless life of an infant.

“Stupid heroes never learn to look at the big picture. Guess I should be thankful for that,” thought the vampire with a morbid type of joy as he became temporarily lost in the moment.

Unfortunately the feeling didn’t last and the deadly creature’s joy quickly turned to shock as the blind vampire suddenly noticed the life force of Storm Veritas rushing up on him. To the vampire, the conman seemed to come out of nowhere from the slowly calming sea of panicked civilians that surged all around him. Ironically had it not been for whatever strange belief had propelled the guards the equip the vampire with his equipment before the execution then Storms dagger would have penetrated Tarry’s heart and sent his soul into the after life.

Instead the sharp, titanium blade of the knife clanked harmlessly with the delyn chest plate of the vampire as Tarry reeled back try to stop his forward momentum. Luckily thanks mostly to his enhanced agility and reflexes the vampire was able to stop the momentum soon and he was only thrown off balance for a moment.

With his balance regained and the surprise of Storms attack quickly wearing off, the blind vampire’s shock quickly turned into rage and Tarry’s hatred for Storm Veritas quickly started to take high priority over all other emotions currently running through his twisted mind. Once again it seemed that fate had decided to use Storm Veritas to try and screw over Tarry Whealer.

Though Tarry wanted to escape Radasanth and leave Corone in general he had a feeling that since Storm had just tried to stab him in the heart that the con artist had no intention of letting such an event transpire. Unfortunately the vampire knew that a trick such as the one played on the wannabe hero wouldn’t work on Storm. The vampire and the con man had a lot in common and one of those things was that neither of them gave even the tiniest piece of shit about any of the city’s citizens. Thus it was once again inevitable that the two enemies of lock horns once again.

“At least this time the guards are wasting their efforts trying to restore order instead of coming after me. I’ll make this quick and be on my merry way.”

The vampire wasted no time in countering Storm’s assault with one of his own. From the mouth of Tarry a ki blast was unleashed and sent flying towards the fleet feet of Storm Veritas. The blast of energy was not meant to actually harm Veritas, instead it was meant to distract him and hopefully throw him off balance enough for the vampire’s next attack to strike its mark. As soon as the ki blast was fired Tarry quickly drew one of his daggers from the inside of his leather coat and lunged forward, thrusting the blade outward and upward slightly at the neck of his enemy.

[Storm Veritas]

For any man that wields a dagger, there is one sound that can single-handedly break his heart in combat. More than the screams of children or wrenching of bones, the sound of incompetence, of ineptitude rings sour. Storm heard the unmistakable noise, and winced.

“Plink!”

The dagger would do nothing against a breastplate. Even a straight shot was unlikely to pierce, if only because it was such a light-weighted weapon. Perfection was rarely available during combat, where madness, instinct, and the raw desire to survive oft reigned supreme over skill and technique. Stunned, Storm was helpless to stop the attack of the horrible Whealer, the lone opportunity squandered. An explosion at his feet, and he was launched back. The flash of a knife before him was harmless, but the disoriented projectile named Storm Veritas was in no shape to process it.

He soared backwards, launched by the explosion at his feet. Tarry had blasted him with that purple nonsense, and he was trying to move away. An awful combination.

You stupid ass. Couldn’t just skip town?

As his mind flashed, he crashed down hard, smashing his back and head against a sea of refugee witnesses to what was clearly not the simple execution of the hideous vampire. The sea splashed beneath him, people falling in a hapless wave of flesh and screams. Terror, unabashed, unadulterated. The scene was completely out of control. With monsters loose in town square, Radasanth had fast become anarchy.

As the people rose around him, they separated from the vile Veritas, the opportunity to run had passed. He wasn’t one of them, and the looks on their faces told the tale. While he grinned a maniacal thing with a toothy smile, they had wide, terror-filled eyes. While he saw “action”, they saw “danger”. There was no way back from this road, no rehabilitation for what drove him. He glared around, assessing the scene. He never saw the silent attacker from that fateful night in the alley. He saw the police, backing away. He saw Whealer, equally crazed and licking his lips. What held back the realization was merely confusion.

Plink means something, you dumb shit.

Perhaps he had tried to attack anonymously, but assuming that none would know that face or that look was more than naïve, it was stupid. This was survival, damn the torpedoes (whatever that meant), and he needed to kill Whealer.

The same Tarry Whealer wearing a metal chest plate.

He stood and pointed at the vampire’s chest, laughing at how easy it was. Supreme confidence echoed from his cackle as he watched the thick electric blast rocket down from his hand at the archrival.

“It ends here, Whealer!!!”

[Osato]

A small plume of smoke rose with rubble raining around it. Even from the distance that I was away, with a wall of metal blocking what little I could see, I could tell there was a battle starting. I looked over as I moved with the group; the battle mage was smirking and charging some spell that crackled around his hands. His hair was beginning to rise with the power inside him, and his eyes were beaming. “This may be more fun than I had originally expected,” the man said, catching me off-guard despite most of my attention being on him.

The air around me seemed hotter, suffocating dry. The mage’s closest hand was a bright red, and what I wished for more than anything was to disappear. Instead the column decided to stop short, slowly approaching and mumbling (though still louder than the ado that roared around them). I turned to look at the mage, watching his grin turn to studied and calculating gaze. Without worry of his eye on my back I turned and walked to the side of the men, what I saw was astounding.

Before me, Storm Veritas, was the second of the two that I had run into that auspicious night. His hands were crackling with the electric tinge of his extremely dangerous power. His eyes were filled with a mixture of hatred and satisfaction, or so it seemed. The dagger that was firmly gripped in his white knuckle grip was the least of my concern, as his other hand shot forward.

It was exactly what I thought.

“Get down! Move you fools!” I screamed towards the men in front of me and the citizens surrounding. But the lightning that arched towards the sightless vampire was quicker than my word of mouth, but nowhere close to the speed of thought. I had already dropped, my sword clattering against the cobblestones. “Gods damn it all!”

Without waiting, and without heed to how it would look, I quickly tucked my sword into its sling and scurried away. I pushed through the crowd of awestruck civilians. The people were amazing. Too scared to watch prisoners escape, but far be it from them to overlook a battle in public. I did not dwindle on the thought long, but used the chance to escape to the nearest alleyway or way out of the public eye.

“I’m not a hero,” I mumbled as I moved away from the confrontation and sought safety. I finally regained my footing and began to charge away, concealed yet by the crowd. I had no intentions of remaining, no intentions of fighting the bastards and being killed before the people that thought me a ‘hero’. There were people that needed me alive in Scara Brae; Radasanth was the last place I wanted to lay my life down for. “I’m a mercenary; I don’t fight unless there is a good bit of gold that comes long before the confrontation… this is ridiculous. How the bloody—which way is out?!”

((Very sorry for the wait, chaps. I may jump in towards the end, when you are trying to leave the city proper, I may just leave this as a conclusion. Have at each other either way…))

[grim137]

((That's fine Osato, but do us a favor and let me and Storm know when you plan to jump back in should you decide to do so.))

Tarry’s attack had missed, horribly. As his blade passed through naught but thin air, he couldn’t but be disappointed, though not overly surprised, at the result. Storm was a quick and nimble figure of a man and likely had a good idea by now on how to avoid the bloodsucker’s tactics. It seemed that once again the encounter between Tarry and Storm would end up being a lot more drawn out that Tarry ever wanted it to be.

Before Tarry could launch another counter attack, the ever so familiar sound of electricity arcing through the air filled his mind. The blind vampire had already experienced the power of the attack twice before thanks to Storm and he had no intention of familiarizing himself with it any further.

The crafty monster quickly dived into the crowd of people as the deadly arc of lightning shot passed him. Several screams could be heard as peopled scrambled to move out of Tarry’s way though one scream in particular could be picked out. It was the blood curdling, mingled, pain filled scream of the poor bastard who was unable to move out the way of Storm’s attack quickly enough.

“God, any bounty hunters watching this fight must be licking their lips. With the amount of collateral damage that this fight is going to cause because of these bloodthirsty idiot spectators the prices on Storm’s head and mine are bound to fucking skyrocket. Oh well, might as well give them a good show.”

The vampire didn’t bother responding to Storm’s half assed attempt to taunt him. The vampire knew Storm’s game too well by now to fall for it. It was the game of wits, of who could outsmart the other. Tarry once considered himself a master at it but Storm had proven time and time again that it was actually he who was the master. So instead the bloodsucker simply decided to attack, knowing that if he opened his mouth and started the game of wits Storm would inevitably win.

“It ends now? What a load of shit. Every time I thought it I ended up getting screwed. Still maybe this light-footed little prick might actually be right,” thought Tarry.

With those final thoughts Tarry reached into his jacket with his free hand and gripped the yew handle of his second twin dagger. Tarry paused only briefly to figure out his next plan of attack before lunging forward again at full speed. The vampire decided to make the fight in as close a quarters as possible as quickly as possible, knowing that his skill with his blades combined with his enhanced physical abilities would likely give him the advantage in such as fight. The dagger in the vampire’s right hand shot upward aiming for Storm’s chest. The dagger in Tarry’s left hand quickly switched to a reverse hold position and quickly arced around so that if it hit it would impale the left side of Storm’s hip.

In all the commotion and all his focus on Storm the vampire didn’t notice two very important things. The first thing was that the hero was now running away and the second was that the guards were now moving in.

[Storm Veritas]

The vampire struck with swift precision, the sort of athletic grace that defied the pressure of the situation. Two blades, both powerful, both awful. Veritas knew full well what type of devastation could come on the end of a knife, for he too was an expert with daggers. The one headed at his chest was the primary concern, and he rocked back, steadying himself over his legs as he did so. This maneuver left his hip exposed, and he felt the dagger penetrate his flesh, clashing off his hip bone and chipping at him. The pain was awful, but not debilitating.

“F*CK!”

He staggered back, pressing away the wrists of the vampire as he did so. The pain actually dizzied him slightly, but not enough to completely lose his bearings. Aside from Whealer, the guards were closing, and the first was on him within a second. Storm felt the clasp of a nightstick around his throat, whipping his chest down and flipping the guard overhead. The blue-clad body landed, followed by a knife which drove through a defenseless eye socket. The stunned body twitched and died, the pink mist of blood and sickening sounds churning the stomachs of the remaining onlooker townfolk. Spinning, Storm felt a mighty cramp in his leg as he turned to face the next wave of constables. There were four, and more weaving through the crowd towards them. The odds would move from poor to impossible, especially if they could ready their crossbows.

And you attacked him, you stupid sonofabitch. Didn’t finish the job. Didn’t kill him, blew your opportunity AGAIN. How are you gonna get out?

Whealer was his only opportunity, and he knew it. The blind vampire was as dangerous as Veritas himself, and maybe twice as sinister. Despite the obvious opportunity, there was rivalry, bitter jealousy, perhaps hatred between the two. Could he enlist the help of the vampire at his darkest hour? How could he trust the beast he had conspired to kill?

“Whealer, we can settle this outside of town, but you need me and you know it. I can get you out of here.”

The words of the desperate mage came with his back turned to the most dangerous being in Radasanth – the vicious Whealer who could carve him in two. Alone, both would perish, easily harvested by the guards. Together, the odds were long, but far greater than the chance either would have on their own.

“Come on.”

Four befuddled guards were closing, and Storm moved. A two step lunge, and he drove his shoulder into the chest of the furthest right guard. Down went the slow, lumbering, overmatched opponent, but towards Veritas came the remaining three. He didn’t care, as he was moving forward. Away from Whealer, into the crowds. A sprint to escape, with a large crowd converging.

So much for under the guise of shadows.

[grim137]

Had it not been for his well-known crimes, Tarry would have almost sworn on his sister’s grave that Storm was some sort of priest, one with incredibly close connections to whatever gods controlled the fate of those on Althanas. The vampire’s vicious dagger had sunk deep into the tender flesh of the human’s hip, shredding skin and muscle and spilling blood. At that moment the blood thirsty predator had Storm exactly where he wanted him. Hell he wouldn’t have had to really fight that hard and could have drawn the match out long enough for blood loss to takes it toll but fate intervened once again, this time taking the form of the Radasanth guards.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me! I’m so close to getting my revenge I can literally taste it and these fucking guards interfere now?!”

Tarry hated to admit it, especially now, but Storm was right. The guards were closing in and there were too many of them to take on. Besides with barracks close by little armored nuisances would just keep coming and even Tarry wasn’t arrogant enough to think that he could take on all of Radasanth by himself. So for the moment, as much as he really hated to admit it, Storm was right. If Tarry wanted a chance for revenge both he and Storm would have to escape the long arm of Radasanth’s law, even if that meant teaming up together.

“Fine,” said Tarry, practically spitting the words out of his mouth “but this doesn’t change anything.”

The guards were now practically swarming upon the two criminals, having successfully made it through the thick crowd. Tarry was able to fend off several of them with a few swipes of his blades, though the attacks were hardly well aimed instead leaving the few guards that received them to simply scream with large bleeding wounds that would scar at the worst.

Quickly the blind vampire moved deeper into the crowd, making sure to grab a hostage, a 14-year-old boy who must have been interested in seeing the fight between Storm and Tarry that was now being delayed. The lad squirmed and screamed at first but quickly became quiet and obedient when he felt the blade of Tarry’s dagger pressed hard against his throat. There were enough stories going around the city about vampires lately for him to realize that it was best to be obedient when one of them held a dagger to your throat. Tarry on the other hand simply wanted him because the guards would be a lot more cautious hesitant with their attacks to avoid harming or killing the boy.

“Storm grab a hostage, that should keep the guards from coming at you as hard!” yelled the vampire as he continued to make his way towards the city gates. There may have been a bunch of delays but it seemed that at last Tarry was finally going to make his escape, the same one he had been planning for the past two days.

[Storm Veritas]

The fracas was a terrifying thing now. The crowd was a blur of faces, clothing and flesh devoid of name or title. The next person beside you could be there to lead you to safety or watch your demise, and there was no intuition that could truly judge intention. As such, Storm knew it best to err on the side of paranoia. They WERE out to get him, they WERE there with awful deeds lying behind their stilted eyes and harrowing voices. The call of a frantic mother merged with the warcry of a desperate constable, and the sea of humanity which surrounded him was spellbinding.

As if cutting through this hodgepodge came the sour toned voice of Tarry Whealer. What he said made enough sense, Storm supposed. To take a hostage would make him a far more difficult target, and becoming a risky shot was certainly in his best interest. At the same time, picking just one would be difficult.

Pick someone valuable, assert your strength. Not a cop. Cops are expendable, a cop’s life is heroic. To die in duty would be a grand honor; a cop won’t stop the crossbows from firing.

A single man emerged, a lone brave that looked to play the hero. Moron. The normal humans were true heroes in the eyes of Veritas, men who risked too much without a chance of honestly competing. This, of course, also made them fools. No amount of brawn could override Storm’s gifts, no degree of bravery could cease the speed or the magics.

The lithe warrior moved quickly, spinning and leaping at once. The large, balding, fatherly type never stood a chance. Storm vaulted through the air, turning his feet and his limber frame with the grace of a dancer, easily hopping through the arms of an exasperated stranger. Behind him now, he rifled his hands desperately across the neck, striking the man in the temple with a closed fist and dulling his senses. From here, the knife was pulled taut against the fat, sweating flesh, Storm’s left hand returning to brace the man’s arm behind his back in a wrestler’s hold.

Move, move, move!

Backpedaling, he worked his way against the stone front of a single shop, the solace of having a protected ass not escaping him.

“Ease back!” he shouted, an intensity not seen before propelling his command. “No one else needs to get hurt. Put down your god-damned weapons!”

It was lunacy; it could never work. The cops would never let him run from here. How would they survive? Was it possible?

[grim137]

As the day wore on the situation seemed to grow more and more desperate for the escaping fugitives that were Storm and Tarry. The hostages may have stopped the arrows from flying at them but there were still the swordsmen and with the crowd continually thinning as the scared citizens ran back to the safety of their homes it likely wouldn't be long until the armored protectors of the city were upon the two monsters who were causing so much trouble on that otherwise quiet day in Radasanth.

“Close the gates!”

That command, issued from the lips of the ranger, meant that things were officially going to hell for the vampire, and at a much faster pace than the bloodsucker was ready to deal with. The loud creaking and groaning sounds coming from less than a tenth of a mile away only confirmed this fact. Yet it wasn’t until a few seconds later when the hope destroying sounds were followed a quick thud and the sound of several heavy locks being shut that Tarry realized he was really screwed if he didn’t do something soon.

Capture was not an option. With the deaths of multiple guards not to mention numerous other crimes there was no way they would try to lock him up again and give him a proper execution. Not even the inhabitants of Althanas were that stupid. No the guards would show no hesitation, and no remorse opting to kill the vampire out right.

“The day I let these inferior little shits get the best of me is will be the day I stake myself through the heart.”

Still he needed a way to escape and quickly and with the gates now closed, locked and heavily guarded the killer’s easiest option was no longer available. Yet as he quickly scanned the area with all his extra senses the vampire noticed another option that would work just as well.

“The sewers, perfect, they’ll only be able to send a few guys at me at a time down there. Besides there’s libel to be all sorts of gases and shit down there to make things hard for those armored vermin.

Underneath the ground of Radasanth was a veritable maze of pipes and tunnels leading to all sorts of various power plants, lakes, and countless other places where raw sewage, gas, and other things were transported. Dark, cramped and infested all sorts of vermin and disease, the sewers of Radasanth would provide an excellent getaway.

With an escape plan in mind the vampire no longer needed his scared little hostage. Taking only a moment to bite deep into the kid’s neck, the vampire quickly sucked about three pints of delicious, life giving blood from poor lad before throwing him on the ground, leaving him to bleed to death on the dirty road. Having gone over 48 hours with out any kind of nutrients what so ever, the quick meal did the vampire good and he already felt reinvigorated by it.

Quickly the vampire broke into a run towards the nearest manhole, slicing at anybody that got into his way, leaving a few injured civilians and a couple injured guards in his wake. Nothing would stop him from getting away. Besides a few injuries were a good thing, they would provide at least a minor distraction to any guard that didn’t want the injured to bleed to death.

The vampire paused for only a second when he reached the manhole, debating rather or not he should get Storm’s attention. Tarry decided not to. The injured con man would slow him down. Besides if the guards were distracted with Storm, they wouldn’t notice him. Plus it was like the old saying went “turnabout is fair play”.

“So long you little prick, have fun in jail.”

With that final thought the sly predator quickly tore the cover off the man hole and jumped down into the sewers.

[Storm Veritas]

Tarry had retreated, and Storm was left helpless. The police were pursuing, closing, and the village was otherwise cleared. With the bright sun now beating down overhead, their raised batons and crossbows all pointed to him. A small circle of three or four men squatted around the outside of a manhole, looking down in disgust. Without seeing as much, Veritas figured that the crafty Wheeler had fled into the underbelly of the city. He could see well, and wouldn’t be affected by the vermin and disease like humans would be.

Hopeless. End it.

He looked around, glaring, calculating. He wouldn’t be shot with the hostage in tow, and he felt the big villager’s fear in a warm trickle on his lower leg. At the same time, while he had command of the hostage, he had nowhere to run. He couldn’t kill them all, not alone. But what was the option?

They won’t take you alive. You know that.

With his recent rampage, he would be branded a cop killer. As a result, the constables of Radasanth would take no pity on him, and he would never stand trial nor live to see the sun set. They would be merciless, beating him and killing him. He could slay many, but the bolts from the small hip-mounted quivers of Radasanth’s finest would catch up to him very early.

He had to surrender, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out how. There was nothing easy, nothing logical. No escape alley or convenient manhole for him. There was… well… perhaps there was one way…

“Shut up! Stay back!! Stay the f*ck back or this guy breathes through his chest!!” His change in demeanor was striking, violent and angry and desperate. His eyes were wide now, fear coalesced with fury, the cornered cat, dangerous and wild.

Apart from him, the police had formed a semicircle of weapons and ire, and were bleating their demands at him with a monotonous, deliberate pace. Time and patience were running short, and the men braced themselves with a collective nervous energy.

Don’t be brave. Be smart and be alive.

“Not another step!” he began with fire in his eyes. “So help me God, one more step and I drive this f*cking thing through his throat!” He was turning white as he spoke, forcing words and sucking in air at an obscene rate.

“Pay attention, there, man! What are you.. Lieutenant? Captain? They gonna promote you if you lose… if you lose… lose the hostage?” Noticeably weak, Storm had confused the crowd of crusaders. He was also fading very quickly, breathing faster than humanly possible.

“Look at me, captain! Lo… look….” He was dizzy now, faint and weak. He collapsed one moment later, the hostage thinking himself heroic as he delivered a smashing elbow to the half-conscious sadist. The crowd was on him in an instant, a few batons coming down in a racing, fervent speed on the hapless mage. He didn’t respond, and they stopped.

Quickly chained, Storm would be escorted to jail. He would be brought there alive, and would regain consciousness less than five minutes after he had hyperventilated himself. Discretion was the better part of valor, and he would fight Whealer another day.

[grim137]

“Finally, time to leave this human infested place.”

Tarry landed about 8 feet underground in a large sewer pipe, completely ignoring the ladder that led down into it. A loud splash that echoed throughout the large hollow sewage pipe announced his arrival to the bugs and rats as he landed in the filthy, scum infested, ankle deep water. The air was thick and smelled of mold and sewage. It was also cold, and so humid that it made Tarry’s clothing and armor stick to his hot and tired body.

The sounds of guards around the manhole above reminded the blind vampire that he hadn’t managed to escape yet, though he could would change all that soon enough. The blind vampire continued to move forward, following the linear path of the pipe until he was about 10 feet away from where he had entered. By that point a few guards had managed to climb down the ladder, though the narrowness of the sewers forced the heavily armed law enforcers to come after the escaping vampire in a single file line. To Tarry it mattered not, they would die soon and no more would be able to come after him.

With a slight grin the vampire cupped his hands together. Between his hands the ki energy once again began to form, coming to life in a twisting, cackling, glowing mass of energy. The deadly spirit magic wielding bloodsucker quickly thrust his hands forward and the mass of energy instantly turned into a deadly beam.

The deadly beam seared upward smashing into the concrete above the guards causing the portion of the sewers to cave in. The sound of the guards being crushed under the rock and their own armor was music to Tarry’s ears and the twisted bloodsucker couldn’t help but let out a slight chuckle. Not only had his little trick killed the guards following him but it also had prevented any more from entering the sewers and pursuing him for the time being.

“Good riddance, you goddamn armored roaches.”

With that Tarry turned and continued his trek through the sewers. After about an hour of walking through the seemingly endless maze of pipes and tunnels the blind vampire finally emerged out of a particularly large one that was dumping sewage in a river somewhere in Concordia. By now Tarry was tired, hot, wet and as smelly as the sewers themselves.

Yet Tarry felt good. As he jumped out of the pipe had headed off into the woods he couldn’t help but feel pleasant. He had finally pulled one over on Storm, and with the recent events it was perhaps even sweeter than killing him. Tarry was now free, having escaped his pursuers and Storm was now rotting in jail. Things the only way things could have possibly been better for the vampire was if he had managed to kill that wannabe hero in the process. Still there would always be more time for that later. For now Tarry just wanted to get away from Corone, its citizens and its armed forces and stay away for as long as he possibly could.

[Witchblade]

Story

Continuity: - 8 I love the storyline that you three have going on here. Its simplicity is what makes it so great, there’s no complication. Cut and dry, Tarry and Storm hate each other and would really like to see each other die and Osato is the wandering mercenary who gets pegged as a hero when all he wants to do is get some money. Some people may think it’s not that great solely for the fact that it is rather simple, but that makes it so much more believable. Characters constantly fighting against impossible odds and winning gets boring after a while. This is pure character development driven storyline just for the sake of writing. No rewards, no spoils, nothing, it’s rather refreshing.

Though I have read the other story so I know where this is coming from and where it is going, you must always assume that your audience, your reader, may not have and so recapping on past occurrences always helps. All three of you did this, though not to the fullest extent. I’m actually bringing it up because you did do it and some people forget to. So kudos to you. This is definitely turning into an interesting storyline that I hope does not die with this quest.

Setting: - 7 There was not a lot of description about the surroundings and this is where you guys are losing most of your points. This is really disappointing to me because I’ve read previous threads from both of you, Storm and Grim, and your descriptions are always vivid, beautiful and breathtaking. To be missing those in this thread was like missing part of the story. With a little imagination it wasn’t hard to picture the scenery and what was going on around the characters, including the fact that the mob itself is setting, but it was still lacking description. There was interactment, especially on Tarry’s part for escaping into the sewer system, and the pushing and shoving through the crowd.

I want to make an interesting suggestion here. Tarry is a blind character yet I constantly keep reading things being described by him (or rather by the writer in the posts ) as if he could see perfectly well. I don’t know if Tarry was always blind or if he became that way somehow, but why not try describing things differently. This could add some very high marks to your setting. Say if Tarry has been blind his whole life, imagine him trying to picture what green looks like, or what a horse looks like. Even on top of that, some blind people affiliate textures with colours and smells as well. Orange to orange, pine to green, bumpy to grey, rough to brown, smooth to black…etc. It’s not an easy thing to do since those with sight have been living with it their whole lives, but it’s something to think about trying.

Pacing: - 8 Well, Tarry definitely escaped from Radasanth and took care of his enemy, who is in the hands of his other enemy at the moment. The entire pacing of the thread was rather well, it throws you right into the action in the first post—which sometimes is bad if not kept at a steady pace—however I thought it was pulled off rather effectively. The momentum was kept up nicely and as the reader I’m on the edge of my seat for most of the quest wondering what’s going to happen next and though I seriously doubt it, if anyone is going to die. The tension was also drawn out nice and tight throughout the thread, giving the reader just enough without slapping it in their face and making it too much.

Character

Dialogue: - 8 Dialogue from all three of the characters was very good and very much so ‘within’ character. Storm’s verbal tirades within his head are always interesting to read, especially since he says the damnedest things to himself.

“Aw, shit...It’s on, now, then.”

Osato also has a habit of saying interesting things to himself, though mostly he talks out loud. These are character quirks that make characters more believable to the reader, it also helps humanize them. After all, it’s always fun to read a story, but if you can’t imagine a character being real than the reader can quickly lose interest in the character and/or the story. This also ties into action, if a character’s actions are not real enough for the reader than the same thing can happen.

Action: - 9 Bringing up what I’ve previously said in dialogue you guys do a good job of making your characters real to the reader, especially when it comes to injuries. Storm I notice you’re very good for this, when your character gets hurt he doesn’t tend to brush it off, he takes it like a normal person would and passes out from blood loss. It’s hard to do something like this when you’re in the world of fantasy. The lines of debilitating injuries can be blurred very easily and what some people would classify as life threatening in real life, in fiction you may think of it as a paper cut. Refer to Monty Python’s Quest For The Holy Grail; after all, it’s just a scratch.

Taking on hostages while moving through the crowd was a strategic thing to do, and played into the actions of the guards. They would never willingly sacrifice the life of an innocent civilian and if you happen to be surrounded by them, hey, why not?

And finally, Osato plays into his character’s true skin and runs away from the battle instead of risking his neck. I made mention in my judging of Return of the Monster that Osato did not fit well into the role of a hero, his character felt uncomfortable in it. This just proves how selfish his character is in the end and though it was disappointing to have him leave so early on in the quest, it did make sense character wise to me. He has his money, why stick around?

Persona: - 8 Even though there was not a lot of emotional description throughout this quest it was still an emotional journey. This mostly came towards the end where Tarry and Storm had to put away their hatred for one another and trust a sworn enemy to watch their backs, which is not an easy thing to do. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much elaboration on what could have been an emotional time for the characters, yet sitting back and looking at the situation makes the reader realize they’re in a life and death situation. So it’s kind of like a win, lose situation where time wise speaking the characters don’t have much of an opportunity to think about trusting one another and the vulnerability they’d be under, yet the reader would love to see it.

Writing Style

Mechanics: - 7 I don’t remember spotting any glaring spelling or grammar mistakes that stood out to me in this quest, which is nice to see since that’s usually the biggest mistakes people have. Word doesn’t catch everything and the human eye doesn’t catch everything either, which is why I never take off many, if any, points for grammar and spelling unless they’re slapping me in the face.

Grim watch out for the way you word things and also make sure that if you’re using the right words.

Post 16, paragraph 2 “The air was thick and smelled of mold and sewage. It was also cold, and so humid that it made Tarry’s clothing and armor stick to his hot and tired body.”

Cold and humid do not go hand in hand, trust me, I live in Canada and we get a lot of cold and a lot of humid, but not at the same time. What I think you meant to say was damp.

Post 16, paragraph 3 “The sounds of the guards above the manhole reminded the blind vampire that he hadn’t managed to escaped yet, though he could would change all that soon enough.”

I think the mistake here becomes obvious when you read over the sentence. It just looks like you were originally writing something else, deleted a bunch of stuff but left something behind. Watch out for stuff that like, it really tends to throw the flow of a good post off.

Post 14, paragraph 1 “The hostages may have stopped the arrows from flying at them but there were still the swordsman and crowd continually thinning as the scared citizens ran back to the safety of their homes it likely wouldn’t be long until the armored protectors of the city were upon the two monsters who were causing so much trouble on that otherwise quiet day in Radasanth.”

Wow, that is quite the mouthful. It’s a run on sentence. Really, all it needs is a little period to make it all grammatically correct. If you read through the sentence again right now you should be able to spot where the period should go, if not, it’s supposed to go after ‘homes’. Then just capitalize ‘it’ and that would be good to go.

Technique: - 9 I had to go back to my grammar book for this one! Though it is not exact, and epanalepsis is usually only used in sentences I thought I would bring it up anyway. Now for those of you who have not taken grammar classes: epanalepsis – the repetition of the beginning at the end. “Nothing that can be created out of nothing.” As you can see it’s normally for a sentence itself, but you guys did something rather interesting—if unintentional—at the beginning of the quest we start off with Tarry in his cell and at the end of the quest we are left with Storm being dragged off to his cell. It was a nice twist. And though it may not be the exact definition of epanalepsis itself, I think it still counts.

Clarity: - 8 The flow and clarity of the quest was fine. Though at times it is nice to use fancy words like fracas not everyone knows exactly what that means and may have to use a dictionary. It’s good to see that some people have a good grasp of the English language and know a lot of terms. But this can also be a bad thing as no one likes having to stop reading something to look up the meaning of a word just so they can continue on with the story.

Wild Card: - 8 It was a good read to another addition to an interesting chapter in the life and times of Tarry Whealer, Storm Veritas and Osato Lysser. I certainly hope this is not the last one and look forward to reading through the next. After all, Storm has to escape from Radasanth now.

Total: 80

Rewards:

Osato receives 200 experience and 100 GP!
Storm Veritas receives 2000 experience and 250 GP!
Grim receives 1400 experience and 250 GP!

[Cyrus the virus]

EXP added!