It's Only Illegal If You Get Caught

[Witchblade]

(( Open through here (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=2724) ))

Barrel of Monkeys was definitely your usual out of the way disgusting tavern in a disgusting part of the city. The kind of place she frequented infrequently. There was nothing special about it, besides the fact that every person in here was a killer, murderer or rapist, or at least that’s what they wanted you to think. Half of the people in would wet their pants at the thought of actually taking a dagger to another living human’s throat and slicing it open, they just liked playing it at the big bag boys. It was pathetic, if you were going to pretend to be a killer you should have the guts to actually cut into a person and then stand there and watch them die. It was actually rather thrilling; some people just didn’t have the guts for it. The other thing that was interesting about this place was the underground business that came through here. Of course she’d heard through the grapevine of people about a Syndicate and about jobs you can get at a local tavern and of course she had to come and pick up a job because she had nothing better to do with her life. She had eternity after all; she could waste some of it doing stupid shit like this.

Sliding up on the bar stool, the cloaked and shadowed visage of Witch was nothing new to this place. She barely turned a head, which was nice for a change. Having all eyes directed on you—even for a short amount of time—was disconcerting and she was never one to grab attention. In fact, she hid herself behind cloaks and shadows to keep attention away from her, how ironic that doing so made people stare at her all the more. No matter.

The burly, rough looking man behind the counter was polishing a glass that had seen better days and would probably never sparkle like it should and suddenly she was glad she didn’t drink. Glancing at him from the shadows of her hood she could tell he may have been a fighter or a warrior in his day but no more, his body was gaining weight, he had multiple scars and only one eye, though that eye seemed very observant.

“Whut can I get ya?”

He was giving her a once over, his lone eye trying to discern something from beneath her cloak. She didn’t know if he caught anything, the smirk on lips sewn shut, the pale skin, crimson eyes, purple markings on her face. She didn’t know and she didn’t care frankly. She wasn’t here for opinions she was here to get a job from this guy.

“Beer on the rocks.”

A telepathic message, her lips never moved, not that they really could.



Otocar was in the process of pouring himself another whiskey in the jigger when the cryptic woman approached. Her face was hidden by the shadow of a cowl, but the operational eye of the sinewy rogue was too trained, too experienced, too sharp not to see beyond the darkness. After all, this ability to see all was what cost him an eye and two fingers on his left hand. Today he saw a rather frigid face whose largest opening was sewn shut, and neither surprised him. He’s been around several blocks in several different realms and saw more peculiar things then wenches with tied lips. Not even when her voice resounded in his head, reciting the proper password, did he flinch. Instead he finished pouring the liquor, downed the shot glass and got up from his chair to lean on the bar.

“That’s quite a strong beverage you’re asking. I would advise you not to proceed with it alone. Not that I care one way or the other if you get the job done.” Otocar said, his two-fingers-short hand disappearing beneath the counter and retrieving a rather large furled piece of paper. He slid it over the bar surface and into her hands. He continued in a hushed tone. “Your package is located on the second lowest level of the dungeon. It’s marked on the prints. The security isn’t exactly top notch, with a bishop and six pawns on each level. We don’t want them plugged, that would be more trouble then the package is worth. Once you extract him, take him to the docks. There will be a ship there waiting for him.”

He finished, his face failing to reveal any kind of emotional reaction. This was all just a job to him. The fact that it consisted of recruiting people to do illegal activities failed to phase him. “One last word of advice: beware of the hounds. They usually patrol the premises and are usually very hungry.”

Witch grabbed the map the barkeeper handed to her. She didn’t care about his opinions on how she would need more people to help her with this. Alone or in a team it didn’t matter to her as long as it alleviated the boredom and kept the voices at bay for a little while. The more she moved and the more she did she was learning the more they were silent and she liked silence, a lot. And Concordia was anything but silent with the constant chirping of those fucking cheerful birds all the time. Made her want to strangle them and sometimes she did, but what kind of fun could you really get out of using birds as target practice? It was entertaining…for a little while then it just gets boring. After all, birds didn’t fight back and if they ever talked back to her she couldn’t understand them, psychic abilities and all, not that she ever really tried.

The hounds he had mentioned would pose a problem though then again, maybe not. She could kill them, our out run them or fly above them, what did it truly matter? Guards were to be expected and she was surprised there were so few, a bishop and six pawns, a Captain and six soldiers on each level but they didn’t want them dead. How utterly disappointing. Maybe she could kill a few of them anyway for fun, after all, would they truly care if they were dead as long as the package was delivered?

Now, as for getting other people to assist her with this…that she was at a total loss over. She had few allies left in Althanas and most of them were goody two shoes who would frown at her even considering taking a mission like this and Witch was not the kind of girl to walk up to someone and ask for their help. She’d rather stab herself. It seemed like she wouldn’t have to do either of those things though as an extremely odd looking man slid up to the counter next to her. His hair was like nothing she’d ever seen before, save on Molotov and even then this seemed a little more outrageous and he was covered in necklaces that boasted all kinds of things. Not to mention he was wearing a loincloth, a freaking loincloth. And she thought at times she dressed a little on the revealing side. He smelled like a werewolf underneath the ew he was permeating and Witch caught a quick glimpse of lupine features on his ears before they vanished.

“Beer on the rocks sounds good,” he said it with a coy smile playing on his face as he nodded to her and the barkeep who was turning away from it leaving it for her to decide whether or not she wanted his help, “I’m in.”

“Fine…”

Not being one for lengthy conversation or even conversation at all she knew not what to say beyond that, however she did nod for him to follow her out of the tavern. The overwhelming stench of human was getting to her and so was the noise. They could discuss and look over the map when they were outside. Besides, oddly enough they would be fewer people outside in the night to eavesdrop on them than there were in this tavern. Too many ears and too many eyes within.

[Ithermoss]

Rakh wasn’t playing by the rules this time – doing so got him nowhere fast, and it was time for a change of scenery. Hromagh’s finger in the mortal world he may have been, may still be, but that didn’t keep him from thrill-seeking. He always wanted to be a part of a heist, jailbreak, or even general shenanigans of a similar kind. Grasping his wolf’s tooth, he took on the keen senses of a canine, nothing being lost to his near-perfect ears – a slight fringe of gray fur peppering their tips being the only sign of his change.

Prints? Dungeon? This sounded like fun. Sounded like a job he'd heard mention of before - like Beer on the Rocks. The odd-smelling tribal strolled up to the bar, much to the displeasure of the other patrons. He didn’t smell foul or anything close, just odd – muddy-feet-and-cabbage odd. His mohawk stiff with red clay, and all sorts of teeth and bones dangling from necklaces and bracelets, he approached the counter and eyed the barkeep and robed individual. The lupine features melted from his ears as he released his grip and focus on the tooth charm.

“Beer on the rocks sounds good,” he said with a gambler’s smile, nodding to the both of them. “I’m in.”

He replayed the bar scene in his head for the 3rd time. “I’m in. What a hot line, idiot,” he thought to himself. He wasn’t exactly cut out for the ‘bad guy’ thing. Being in tune with the spirits of the wilderwylde didn’t make him evil, but he certainly wasn’t a good guy. Trite concepts of good and evil weren’t in the beast god’s repertoire. Divine workings generally went a route mortals weren’t able to understand, and it was in realizing that he knew nothing of the divine’s intentions that Rakh felt wisest of all.

“So. The Iron Fort, eh,” he gibed. "Not a clue where that is. You?” The odd stitching over her lips, being all he could see of the whoever-it-was to begin with, seemed best left unmentioned. Strike that. Un-referred to. Un-thought of. Put completely out of mind. Someone or something went through a lot of trouble to make sure whoseywhatsit didn’t say a word. As cliché as it was, Rakh knew that some things were better left unsaid.

“So what’s yer name? If I need to get your attention, I don’t want to have to call out mysterious robed figure, you’re about to be struck by an ogre!" He always hated this kind of thing. Introductions. Screw ‘em. He preferred to draw a blade and mix things up. Toe to toe. Claw to claw. Appendage to appendage. And between you and me, reader, his appendages were getting itchy for a scuffle. That might have just been his Hromaghian nature, but he wouldn’t have minded in the least if a smart-mouthed bar-monkey had started something he needed Rakh to finish for him. They got outside, and as expected, Rakh had to repeat everything he had tried to say to his associate, the bar noise taken into account.

[Witchblade]

Witch laughed. It was surprising for it was not something she did very often if at all and it even sounded foreign to her ears. But she did, for the first time in a long while she laughed and not the menacing, cruel laugh that usually bubbled from within her throat as she slaughtered the masses, a real that was actually quite funny kind of laugh. And all because of what he said to her, I don’t want to have to call out mysterious robed figure you’re about to be struck by an ogre! that was a new one and she liked it and she’d just met this guy yet she was beginning to like him. She’d just met him and he’d already made her laugh and now she was starting to like him, another thing that never really happened. It took a while for people to grow on her yet his personality, she didn’t know, she just liked it.

“You need not repeat yourself,” Witch said to him, cutting him off, “My hearing is fine, I caught everything you said to me in the tavern. My name is Witchblade, you may call me Witch and yes I have a general idea as to where The Iron Fort is. It should be just a few miles out of town to the south west of here, Rakh.”

Not only had she caught everything he’d said with her heightened hearing, she’d also caught everything at the forefront of his mind. She didn’t prowl around in there but the psychic link she kept open with people to communicate freely allowed loose thoughts into her head sometimes. His name was something she searched for, not that it took her long to find. The fact that he’d continually thought yet said nothing about her stitching amused her. It stood out, she knew and it was not exactly something she was proud of, being captured and then having your mouth sealed shut is something a warrior would ever be proud of. Especially since that had been years ago and she still hadn’t found a way to remove the damn thing. Why did they have to use string with a kind of magical seal on it, why? They couldn’t use normal string, oh no, of course not, it had to be string that wouldn’t break by any of the sharp pointy objects she possessed and as of yet no magic had worked on it either. Still, talking was not something she did often—even before the stitching—so it was of no great loss to her. It had helped her refine her psychic abilities anyway.

Outside, the cool night air swept against her skin in a gentle caress making her cloak flutter about her. It was an annoyance today, she didn’t want the cloak on her, she only put it on when she’d gone into the tavern. Stopping for a moment, she took her rucksack off and carefully set it on the ground then undid the clasp of her cloak and shrugged out of it. The black material slipped down her body and landed around her feet in a pile revealing a curvy figured covered in black leather pants and a black shirt tied down the centre, yet just holding in certain assets. Her hips her adorned with two belts, one held her pants up and contained a small metal rod, the other was fit with ten throwing daggers. Two daggers were on the small of her back and two sais were tucked snugly against her boots and all clearly visible without the cloak on. Down on the ground, the flap of the rucksack popped open and the head of a white, baby dragon emerged, blinking at the world and slowly pulling the rest of himself out. Yawning, and seeing the cloak on the ground, he quickly used his paws to stuff it into the little warm, dark place he’d just come out of. Then smelling something out of the ordinary, Daegun turned around and looked at Rakh and with ever present curiosity the small dragon ran over to him and placed his paws on Rakh’s legs, giving a high pitched squeal like he always did when he wanted up.

“That’s Daegun, he likes…new things and he wants up on your shoulder.”

Leaving Rakh to do whatever with her pet, Witch unfolded the parchment in her hands and studied the map before her. Not that she’d ever admit it, but she wasn’t the best at looking over maps, she’d done it little in her life. Yet now she found herself on a mission where she needed to know where she was going and how to get there. It seemed pretty straight forward, until she realized she was looking at the map upside down, then she quickly corrected herself. There were few entrances—the main one of course—which any idiot would know to be heavily guarded. There was also what appeared to be a back entrance into some kind of courtyard. She did note on the bottom that there seemed to be some kind of sewer system leading out of the prison. In fact, the tunnel for the sewer seemed to be a good hundred or so feet away from the compound and, as long as it was big enough, would probably be the best entrance. Personally, she’d prefer to barge in the front doors but that was unwanted attention and then they might not make it to their package before they got killed. Then again, what was an adventure without death breathing down your neck?

Grabbing her rucksack from the ground, Witch swung it over her shoulders then cleared her throat, nodding her head for Rakh to follow her. They could discuss their mode of entrance on the way there. Offering the map to him, Witch began leading the way out of town.

“There appears to be a sewer system we could sneak into…” She didn’t know if he’d be able to find an easier way into the compound or not, hopefully he was better at reading maps then she was though.

[Ithermoss]

Her laugh was a genuine one, doom and gloom aside. If Rakh had the vocabulary for it, he’d have called it sincere. The word that came out of his mouth, however, was cute. “You’re cute,” to be exact. Followed by the incredibly intelligent, “uh…” and then with a dumbly surprised series of blinks. “So, the map. Yeah,” he nodded, as he bit his tongue, trying to do the ‘deadpan poker-face’ thing as best he could. He turned white as a sheet, and then flushed with red, even under all that caked mud and tattoo-work. Oops. Whatever happened to social grace? Whatever happened to slick one-liners? Well, that’s barbarism for you. Beast-god be damned, he wanted to inch away and crawl in a hollow log somewhere. She was attractive, sure, but in that gorgeously depressed “slit my wrists” kind of way. Rakh wasn’t quite sure how she’d interpret ‘cute.’

There was actually an old legend of what trolls were, that he learned in a past life. They weren’t born, really. They were created in moments best described with the word “whoops,” where a creature is so embarrassed that he crawls off (often under a bridge) to escape the uneasiness of the social equivalent of stubbing one’s toe. It’s the kind of thing that makes most everyone cringe. Even thousand year-old monstrosities of the most infernal design would stop and grimace.

“Southwest you say,” he called, rocking on his heels as his eyes went immediately to the night sky. No stars. It was too cloudy to see stars, but the cottony haze of a full moon was lighting a patch of clouds overhead. Rakh squinted a moment, and ducked his head inside the Barrel of Monkeys to get the time. It was 11:45 or so.

Close enough.

“The moon’s in the south, more or less,” he sounded off, trotting back out of the bar. “If we walk with the moon to our left, but still in view, we’ll get to the right path with no prob-“

“Hey there little guy,” he thought to himself as the dragon whelpling popped out from the ruffle of cloth. He was about to ask where she had been keeping him all this time, but he felt it more polite not to ask. “My shoulder,” he murmured, eyeing the dragon warily. The tribal remembered well the last time he let a critter up on his shoulder; it was a bog-witch’s familiar, and the chubby cat decided on a whim that it didn’t look the way Rakh looked when he changed into his wolf form. It went from an overfed tabby to a cyclone of teeth and claws whirling around Rakh’s head. The fur was a-flying. “Ok. But watch the claws, alright?” he doubled over to pick up the dragon whelp, and set it down on his shoulder.

"Sewers are good," he screwed up his face at the very thought, "but I might be able to take care of the hounds if we can lure one of them away. Animals have three things in mind, generally speaking - food, family, and mating. Take care of one of those, and you can distract even the most trained beast." Sloshing around in human (or other) excrement wasn't exactly his idea of a good time, and it would make them all a lot easier to track. Just follow the poo smell (or smeary footprints). If they were going to do this thing, it would require a little bit of finesse, and haplessly skidding on a turd while creeping by a sergeant wasn't what he had in mind. "If there's another way, I'd reccomend it."

The skull in his satchel grumbled as he felt the innate magic of a draconian wash past him, rolling around to peer up at Rakh through the open flap. Two blue flames winked to life in its empty sockets. “Mrrrhm…mm. Rakh? Where are we? What was all that ruckus back there?” he mumbled. The skull-familiar Rakh had pilfered from an apothecary in Alerar woke with a smacking of its nonexistent lips. How he made the sound, the weregoyle didn’t want to know. Some people had cats. Other people had baby dragons. Rakh had to have a talking skull. This particular skull just so happened to go by the name Todd. A peculiar name, even peculiar in a world where barely anything would phase the least jaded of individuals. It was in this instance that Todd, still waking from his arcane slumber, got a glimpse of the baby dragon peering inquisitively down at him.

“AAAAAAAAAAARGH!!!!! DRAGON! DRAGON! SMOOSH IT, SMOOSH IT, SMOOSH IT, SMOOSH IT!” The skull’s eye-lights flared a startled red inferno and its teeth clattered around, a few of them popping loose.

The corners of Rakh’s smile sunk down to his chin as he looked ruefully over at the scaled creature perched on his clavicle. Figures.

((Navigation: If you're on the north hemisphere, Earth's moon will always appear due south at midnight, when it's in the full moon phase. ;)))

[Witchblade]

(( Hahaha! Thanks for the little tid bit of information. ))

You’re cute.

The halfling blinked at the word. C-cute? She’d never been called cute before. In all her years of wandering around Althanas not one creature had ever called her cute and she didn’t know if she was insulted, infuriated or just amused and maybe slightly embarrassed. How the hell was a half vampire supposed to act when they were called cute, especially a psycho murdering half vampire!? This guy was a conundrum, wrapped in a riddle and sealed in an enigma. She’d never met anyone like him before and doubted she ever would no matter how long her extremely long life was going to be. And he even blushed after calling her cute! Well, first he went ghost white and then he blushed, but still, he blushed!

Clearing her throat and scratching the back of her head in a slight bit of embarrassment, partially for not knowing what exactly to do and the other part for well, just being embarrassed, Witch listened to the tribal prattle on about how if they kept the moon at a circle angel they’d reach the fortress fine. Glancing to the large orb of light hidden behind the clouds, the halfling nodded her head. There were no stars to guide them and if he knew how to follow the moon then congratulations to him. She just had internal instincts that told her which was north, south, east and west, couldn’t explain it, she just always knew. At least he was being friendly to her dragon though, he even let him sit on his shoulder, something not many strangers did, he was after all a dragon and that freaked people out. When Rakh’s familiar came to life Witch was more then surprised though, she’d never seen a talking skull before and the show he put on was quite interesting making her laugh once again. The already dead and probably enchanted skull was scared of her baby dragon, how amusing.

Daegun on the other hand had no such fear of the thing and like his master whose curiosity was boundless, so was his. Titling his head to the side, the dragon crouched down on Rakh’s shoulder and stretched one clawed little paw out as far as it would go to try and reach the skull, who was becoming even more increasingly worried as the dragon got closer and closer to it. Seeing this as a potential problem, Witch walked over and grabbed Daegun off Rakh’s shoulder, placing him on her own. He gave an annoyed and saddened cry about not being able to play with glowing eyes, talking skull, but she gave no heed to it. He was better off not touching something that might try to eat him, or just plain bite him.

“No one shall be smooshing my dragon if they want to keep breathing…or if they want to keep their jaw.” She hadn’t known Rakh long enough to doubt if he’d actually follow the heed of his skull and ‘smoosh’ her dragon but she didn’t want to chance it.

“What the hell is that and why are you hanging around with it?

Witch grimaced slightly and turned so she wasn’t facing Rakh, raising her hand and rubbing her forehead. A quick lash of pain whipped around the inside of her skull as The Malice reared its ugly head. She didn’t respond to it though, sometimes it was better not to respond to the voices in your head, after all, they only told you to do naughty things that could get you in trouble.

“You know, ignoring me won’t stop me from talking to you. Where are we going?”

She didn’t answer; instead she started leading the way out of town. Conversation would help her ignore the fact that there was an evil, psychotic voice talking to her but she didn’t know how to start conversation. Instead she just tried shoving The Malice to the darkened corners of her mind, which never seemed to work for very long. At least it would be quiet for a while. Seeing as how they were already near the outskirts of Radasanth it didn’t take them long to wander out into the countryside. Housing districts and falling down ram shackled buildings turned into falling down ram shackled cottages with little farms in front of them. Sure, Radasanth was a nice place, if you were just passing through or if you were rich, there was no middle class society here, there was just the rich and the poor and no one cared about the poor. She actually found it rather amusing that instead of moving away from the city and living a decided easier life on the land perhaps in Concordia forest the humans stayed here and toiled and wasted their short lives away. Eventually these small cottages that looked like they could be blown down with the slightest wind disappeared leaving the duo and their two odd familiars as lone travellers on a dusty road with the moon shining through the clouds to their left.

It was at this moment that Witch remembered before the sudden outburst of the talking skull, Rakh had been talking about distracting the canines instead of heading in through the sewers. It was a nice idea if it worked, after all, she had a sensitive nose and the sewers probably smelled disgusting.

“Canines tend to react rather quickly to my scent, however, if you’re sure you can distract them then by all means we could try it. It would be a much nicer smelling route than the sewers…”

She didn’t know exactly what it was but dogs didn’t like the smell of her. Actually, she’d noticed that canines in general tended to react quickly and often times violently to the smell of a vampire.

[Ithermoss]

"Todd! Not so loud," he caught himself yelling, lowering his voice to a quiet rasp, "we're trying to go about this quiet-like. So cork it."

"You try to keep calm when you're woken up by a baby-dragon, you jackass," the skull howled. Rakh rolled his eyes and drew the flap to his satchel over Todd's yellowed and chattering teeth. "You're trying to tell me that after centuries of quiet sleep, and to be woken up by - uh mrblblb ang drgnn, mrrh uff rrr!!! MMMMRRRH UFFF RRRRR!!!!"

He couldn't help it, but a contented smile cracked over Rakh's face as they journeyed on. Todd was useful, but being dead already kept him from understanding the urgency of things like quiet. He was more interested in when he'd get to enjoy his next box of cigars and a nice bottle of wine. Todd had an addiction. He had the curse of being a connoisseur, without the lungs and taste buds to accompany such a practice. In his life, he had a collection of the finest vintage and imported cigars one could chatter a set of denchers at. Even in death, he insisted he could still taste the savour. Woe to him that even suggested, even for a second, that he wasn't able to smell, taste, or inhale a damn thing. One fateful night, Rakh was the bearer of such news. Oh, Todd was patient about it. He'd have to be, for being a skull. He'd heard it all before anyway.

"Todd, how do you taste, with no tongue? Todd, how do you smoke, with no lungs? Todd, how do you yadda yadda yadda with no blah-de-blah?"

Todd's only response was that there was none. He went about his business like any animated skull would typically do: occupying cobwebby shelves as well as the spots directly under melting candles. What Todd was doing, however, was writing his unfortunate victim's name down on a shit-list, to collect on later that evening. He wasn't an evil skull, like the kind in cruddy Radasanthian pulp-horror magazines, so he wouldn't slit throats or anything like that. He'd never do anything to hurt someone, unless he bit them in self defense. He'd do something far, far more unnerving; he'd glare at someone while they slept. Of course, the person would object to Todd doing this, to which he would respond in a mocking, smartass tone of voice.

"Todd, how can you stare, with no eyeballs?"

And, of course, Todd would resume his one-way staring contest.

Anyway, the two of them went on about their journey, much like any normal two people who had just survived an uneasy silence would: with a much longer uneasy silence. Rakh would make a meaningless comment about a cricket chirp, then "hmm" to himself like it actually meant something. He was, naturally, just trying to ease the tension on the situation. Being a naked man who relieved himself in bushes didn't aid that fact, for always, standing next to Witch, was the same naked man. He didn't realize it, but everyone else did. If Todd had hands, he'd be slapping his forehead. It was then that he did the unthinkable, and began speculating on all manner of unknowns about his new associate. With her lips sewn together, that didn't bode well for her teeth. That, and she had to have a terminal case of morning breath. That sour just-woke-up taste that won't ever quit. Rakh made a mental note to look into a 'perfect teeth' potion and something for clinical halitosis as well. There was no telling.

No telling what, you ask?

That'd be telling.

"Oh," he carried on, as if picking up a previous conversation that they'd had just a second ago, "don't worry about Todd. He's just excitable. And loud. And he curses up a storm. Come to think of it, he's never exactly been that pleasant." A muffled word of protest came from the satchel. "He's good to have around though. Great for putting curses on people, and making sure their children will be born with green tails." The trail started to widen out in places, and become less rocky and more paved. They were getting closer to civilization, or what might have resembled it once. The Iron Fort was a prison to house criminals when all other holdings proved to be too accommodating a place for the unruly. He made a mental note, however, on her mentioning that dogs find her scent distasteful, and decided that he wouldn't be shapechanging into his complete lupine form today, if only to spare himself all manners of self-inflicted pain.

"So... front door, sewer, or ... what."

[Katei Irumi]

A figure in a brown cloak paced back and forth in the width of a paved, narrow path. He appeared to be talking to himself, and the act was accompanied by hand gestures and head shakes, so he was in reality, arguing with his own thoughts out loud. Katei was at a loss. The very path he was debating with himself on eventually led to the Iron Fort, where he had spent a very recent three months of his life.

Now, here he was, contemplating on going back.

He kept telling himself he was a fool. This kind of thing took preparation and planning, of which he had neither. But how could one let their own mother, who he just recently discovered existed, rot in a jail cell? The youth shook his head in frustration and sat against a nearby tree. He should’ve been onboard a ferry set for Scara Brae by now, but he couldn’t leave her behind. His only real family. Not that the concept really held much worth to him nowadays…but he felt he could trust her.

What did it matter anyway? This was nearly an impregnable fortress. If she hadn’t caused the distraction that helped him escape, he’d still be in there. He couldn’t let her stay locked up…but he finally began to believe now that there was nothing he could do.

A sigh escaped the youth’s cold lips, and he lowered his hood. The moonlight illuminated his form against the dark of night, and the swaying leaves above him cast their shadows upon his boyish face. He gripped the hilts of his blades, sheathed safely at each side of his waist. Stealth was one of his greatest attributes when it came to thievery, but he didn’t know if it would be enough this time.

Footsteps nearby caught his ear. He quickly pulled his hood back over his head and stood against the form of the tree, opposite from where the sounds were coming from.

[Witchblade]

It may have been an uncomfortable silence for him but she rather enjoyed it. Every now and again he opened his mouth and rambled something off, more times than not it was about some random noise going on in their vicinity and more time than not she said nothing back to him. It was humorous to listen to him and he almost kept a constant smile on her face and she couldn’t remember the last time that had ever happened to her, probably never. Besides what was she supposed to say to something like that ‘my, those crickets are sounding awfully cheery tonight’? Yeah right, maybe when hell freezes over or she finally figures out how to remove the stitching from her mouth, otherwise she was just going to continue to keep her mouth shut—or more correctly—mumbled off nothing along her telepathic link with him and just enjoy the walk to the prison. That didn’t last for very long though, soon enough he was opening his mouth again but now he was talking about his skull…named Todd of all things. And as he rambled on about his familiar Witch was left trying to picture a human being born with three tails. It didn’t work, she got close to it but it just looked unnatural and wrong and…weird.

“Is he any good at removing seals?”

If he could perform curses on people then he might be good at removing seals from enchanted objects. She’d never know unless she asked and if she asked and he could she wondered. The strings holding her mouth shut were sealed with some kind of magic that prevented them from be cut or ripped, and also stopped other kinds of magic from just burning the string into nothing but ash. She’d tried numerous times and all she’d done was hurt herself, luckily she had regenerative powers or she’d probably have some nasty scars.

“So… front door, sewer or… what?”

Witch blinked being drawn out of her train of thought, “Huh? Oh… yeah…”
That was a good question, which way should they take? Before she could answer him, or even herself really, the smell of a human entered her nostrils. Considering they were approaching a jail guarded by humans it shouldn’t have come at such a surprise yet this one was close by. Reaching out with her senses she could feel the energy coming off him.

“There’s someone up ahead of us…”

Her footsteps slowed a little bit then she changed her mind and continued to walk at a normal pace. Like them, anyone out walking this road so late at night was probably up to no good but if they just casually ambled up to the person it would seem less suspicious if he was by chance from the prison. She doubted, it was a big if that some random prison guard would be this far away from The Iron Fort after all they’d come a distance but still had at least another twenty minutes to go, maybe more. It didn’t take long for them to come upon the person. He was standing off to the side of the road in the shadows of a tree trying to conceal himself in his cloak. It would have worked if she were any kind of normal person, or even human at that, but vampires had amazing vision in the dark and the faint light of the moon was all she needed. He just looked like a person standing in the shadows on a sunny day to her.

She stopped and turned slightly towards the man, “He’s standing under a tree to our right” She didn’t know if Rakh could see him or not, “Uhhh… say something…”

Witch wasn’t about to pry into his head and telepathically speak to him and even if she wanted to, what was she going to say? ‘So, what are you doing out here on this dark and dusty road in the middle of nowhere?’ Yeah…that sounded great. Better leave all the talking to Rakh, he could after all speak out loud anyway.

[Ithermoss]

((Great. I've got to go on a trip on Thursday. I'll post again if my turn comes up, but I won't be back home til' the 30th. I figured I'd give us a reason for Rakh's absence. That is, of course, if you wouldn't mind carrying big-little-ol' me around. :p I'll be back in short order. Promise.))

"Seals? I've only seen him remove a seal once. It was mean, and wouldn't do tricks at all. We almost had to call in a seal-removal team to take care of the job, because that little bastard was causing all sorts of havok. He's a coat now, so everything turned out alright in the end."

Rakh, having absolutely no knowledge of the arcane, didn't even recognize Witchblade's reference. Magic had always been a mystery to him, really. He could understand something like miracles and powers that were inspired by an extraplanar being. Things like spells, seals, wards, and witchery were concepts wholly lost to his primitive mind. Technology was too, in fact. There was an embarassing moment in an artificer's shop, where Rakh actually said the word "thunderstick" when talking about a gnome's blunderbuss, and suggested that it was an instrument of "bad magic." Not a comfortable situation, when a three-foot-tall gnome is staring you right in the loincloth, waving a scattergun around in the air, just because you happened to misrepresent someone's weapon. As was already clear, Rakh had a problem with not knowing when to shut his mouth.

Hexes and curses, however, were much different. They were a matter of mojo. There was big mojo, and small mojo. There was good mojo, and bad mojo. To explain it in so many words, hexes and curses weren't arcane magic. They weren't things that were formed out of nothing. They needed a target, and a medium through which to reach that target. A wolf's tooth, a bear's claw, or a snake's head were all small mojo. These kinds of things all have a little bit of power surrounding them. Something like an ancient dreamcatcher that's called "useless" because it doesn't protect against bad dreams anymore, however, was big mojo. Really big - the kind that might land you in the Great Nether if you don't take great care when wielding it. Short story: no, Todd didn't know a thing about magic. Ask a question about the Wilderwylde after buttering him up with a new cigar, however, and he might just tell you. To get that kind of information, however, one would have to know the right kind of questions.

Witch was the more alert of the two of them. Rakh, amusing himself with thoughts about all manner of curses, mojo, and ways to make a person's nose glow bright white whenever he told a lie, was quite content in not paying the least bit of attention to their surroundings. As far as attentiveness was concerned, he kept a look out the exact same way a blind man didn't. In fact, he'd not even noticed the man they'd come upon until she prompted him to address him.

"What? A person? I don't see him. To the right!?"

Rakh whipped his head around, and jumped to his guard. So quickly did he do this, that he failed to take heed of the exposed roots about his left toe. His foot caught, as is expected in a situation such as this, and sadly disloyal to his Y'eddan matriarchy, the young Rakh did not recover nimbly and bounce hand over foot to a sturdy dismount. He yelped in surprise, keeled over, and made a nice dull 'whump' as his shaved head impacted quite soundly against a mossy tree trunk. Rakh: bad-guy extraordinaire. He'd never hear the end of the jokes about his accident, naturally. That was, of course, if he could wake up to even hear the beginning of the jokes about his accident. The tribal was out cold, a slight trickle of blood welling in his ear. His breathing was steady, and his heart rate, strong, but the son of the beast god had just become 177 lbs of not-quite-dead (albeit naked) weight.

[Witchblade]

Most people, they get extremely skilled fighters that join them at such opportunities as this. Others get magic users; some get those who specialize in stealth and even those who have a minimalist knowledge of all of these things combined. What did she get, a half naked tribesman who easily knocked himself unconscious by the thought that there was a person near him. Well, not merely by the thought no, instead he had to quickly turn to face the person, trip on a bunch of gnarled roots and land headfirst into a tree, thus knocking himself unconscious. It was quite comical, she had to admit that, the only thing that kept her from laughing at the whole scene was the fact that she was going to be working with him for the remainder of this mission. What if he saw a guard, tripped on a chipped stone and fell face first into the wall knocking himself unconscious yet again? Well, she’d definitely sneak away at that point in time and leave him there to get caught and distract the majority of the guards for her. But really, what the hell had she teamed herself up with?

Stepping towards the now still form of Rakh, Witch used her foot to shove him over onto his back. There was already a large bump forming on his head, the bruising around it starting to show as well, welling into a deep purple colour. It was going to look worse before it started looking better. But she could hear his heart and he was fine, he wasn’t dead at least but he’d probably be out for ten to twenty, maybe more. Just to be sure, the halfling nudged Rakh with the toe of her boot. He didn’t move, he didn’t even grunt or protest. Oddly enough no sounds came from Todd either and she wondered if the little enchanted skull was still awake or if he’d returned to his slumber. Either way, this was a problem. They had a job to do and now her partner in crime was out cold.

Grumbling, Witch folded her arms under her chest, making already prominent assets stand out just a little more. Not that she really cared, she’d actually completely forgot about the human standing under the tree about four or five feet from her. She was more interested in just what she was supposed to do with an unconscious tribesman. She didn’t want to touch him—scratched that actually, she couldn’t touch him—and wrapping him in her cloak and carrying his heavy ass to The Iron Fort did not sound very appealing. It was at this moment—while she was lost in thought—that the little baby dragon perched on her shoulder took the opportunity to jump down and move towards the stranger still hiding in the shadows by the tree. He bounded towards the person like whoever he was he was the dragon’s new favourite toy. He stopped in front of the human, small-clawed paws resting against his leg and a small cry coming out from his mouth. That was what drew Witch’s attention and she looked from her dragon to the human he was trying to turn into his new favourite plaything.

Her eyes narrowed, “Daegun, get back here…”

The small dragon protested slightly but listened to her and reluctantly returned. She knelt down and picked him up, placing him back on her shoulder where he belonged.

“You know, it’s impolite to hide in the shadows at night, someone might take you for a thief or a bandit…or worse…”

The words were telepathic, spoken directly into the human’s mind. She couldn’t physically talk to him but in the darkness he might not notice the stitching holding her mouth shut. He probably would notice however that he was ‘hearing’ her speak yet her mouth wasn't moving. That was of no concern to her; she could care less what the human thought.

[Katei Irumi]

Katei peeked around the corner of the tree when he heard the loud thud of a body hitting the bare earth. Instinctively, his right hand rested on the handle of one of his two blades, but his grip loosened when he started to realize that these folk didn’t look like prison guards. They weren’t wearing the proper attire; indeed, one of the two wasn’t wearing much at all. That being the one lying on the ground, seemingly unconscious.

The bright-eyed youth pressed his form back against the tree. He felt a little safer, but there was always the possibility that these two were mercenaries of some sort, sent after him by the prison authorities. Showing himself, if they had not already noticed him, might be the best thing to do, as not to seem hostile. However, just as he was about to show himself, he felt something rub up against the bottom of his leg. Katei looked down to see a baby dragon, which seemed to have some interest in him. His eyes widened before he smiled slightly at the magical creature, just as a mildly threatening voice suddenly filled his ears, offering a warning. It was strange that he couldn’t sense the direction of where it came from, but it was obvious he had been noticed now.

As the baby dragon made its way back to its supposed master, Katei reluctantly stepped out from behind the tree’s concealment. He didn’t want to seem hostile, so he offered a small wave. “Umm…hi. What brings you travelers out here?” He smiled to the conscious one of the two, but stayed on his guard.

[Witchblade]

Umm…hi.

Talk about your awkward conversations or what. This guy was just trying to seem like your normal every day traveller hiding in the shadows of a forest on a lone road leading to town from a prison. Oh yeah, he was trying and failing horrible. Like she was really going to believe that one. She knew better, from experience mostly. And he was even a little on the tense side. She could see it slightly, the on edge feel to him, his muscles kept tensed and ready to spring into action from the slightest movement of her to any of her clearly visible weapons and some not so visible ones. He was either extremely cautious or there was some kind of reason for him to be on guard.

“Oh, you know, just out for a lovely walk under the light of the moon.”

She was trying not to sound sarcastic in her own statement. It was hard but the situation unfolding before her was an annoying one. This was supposed to be an easy mission, sneak in, release the package, sneak out with said package and deliver him to rendezvous point. But no, it couldn’t be that simple, nothing was ever that simple for her. Someone up there looking down on her decided her life needed to be a hard one and that they were going to make it that way. It wasn’t like she wasn’t fucked up enough as it was; they just had to add insult to injury in the fact that nothing could ever go as plan or as it was just supposed to.

“So what are you doing out here hiding in the middle of nowhere?”

The halfling knew she was not going to get the truth from him, like really, who was going to spill their beans to someone they happened upon? She wouldn’t, not unless she was going to kill them afterwards. So Witch did the only thing she knew of to get the real truth from someone, she used her telepathy to dig into his thoughts and riffle around in there for what he was really thinking about and what that was did not surprise her in the least. Well, perhaps just a little bit. He had just escaped from the very prison that they were travelling to and was contemplating going back there to save his mother, a mother he hadn’t even known existed until he’d been locked up in there. Awww, how beautifully poetic and disgusting all at the same time. It made her want to gag. Humans could be so stupidly sentimental. The woman had used herself as bait to distract the guards so he could be free and he was considering going back? Was he crazy? So what, clearly the bitch had made her choice to rot in that place for the rest of her days, he should abide by her wishes and live out the rest of his life in freedom, instead of risking it all to go back to her.

Humans could be so stupid.

Yet even as she realized this, having him just escaped from the exact place she needed to sneak into may come in handy for her. Smirking as the idea began to form in her mind, Witch looked from her down companion and back to the human before her. Stepping towards him, Witch used her telekinesis to pull her sais from the sheathes on her boots and place them in her hands. The moment they touched her fingers the human before her pulled out two short swords. Witch quickly attacked him and he did just what she wanted him to, defend himself. As he blocked one of her attacks, she caught his hand between the prongs of her sai and pulled him forward then brought the blunt end of her other sai down on the back of his neck knocking him out. The human hit the ground, a pile of dead weight at her feet. Now all she had to do was wait for her partner to wake up.

((Permission to bunny given.))

[Ithermoss]

And wake up, the tribal eventually did. The warrior was on his back, sprawled out, spread-eagled, and being picked at by ants when he finally came to. The smear of red dribbling from his ear had hardened into a crust. A large welt pounded into the side of his head where he hit the tree trunk. The burst veins, ragged and purple, sprawled out spiderweb-like over his temple and forehead. Todd went on to explain to Witch that he'd suffered a pretty nasty concussion. The extent of the damage to his brain could be varying, but from the looks of the mess the impact did to him, there was no telling how creaky Rakh's 'upstairs' was bound to be.

He stirred. A knobby hand flexxed stubbornly, and came up to rub the knobbier bump that had risen up on his head. Something thundered between his ears, an angry heat that just wouldn't let up. Every sound was amplified tenfold. In short, our hero had a massive headache. He turned, he groaned, and he sat upright. The swimmy feeling and the dance of colors around his head were urging him to lay back down.

"He, wha' be de sauce? Hed' burnin lyke a coal." * Rakh couldn't believe his ears. He clapped a hand over his mouth, and went pale. That wasn't his voice. He could at least form words, and simple sentences. Other tribals had depended on him at times, to communicate for them, because the civilized were more attuned to his way of speaking. Now he sounded like language was a foreign concept.

"Blod fiyah! I talkin lyke de dertee man!" **

Rakh twisted his pinky finger into his scabbed ear. Todd's eye-lights glowered a dull yellow. He knew what this meant. Rakh would be dumb to the magic of Todd's diagnosis, but what he would proceed to explain to their rather woefully cute companion that her weregoyle friend had damaged the portion of his brain that helped him form words. Speech could sound simplified in tone or expressiveness, or even totally monotone. Words would come out totally wrong, but in context to the situation, it made sense in an odd "naked man" kind of way. The day was just getting more interesting.

"Ow' long 'ad I been wit de spirits, den?" ***

((* Hey, what happened."))
((** Holy shit. I sound like an idiot."))
((*** How long was I out?"))

[Witchblade]

Great. Her day just kept getting better and better. Not only had her partner in crime knocked himself unconscious but he damaged his brain, as if it could become any more damaged than it already was. But it could and did and now he sounded like a complete moron and she might need him to complete this mission and he couldn’t even form complete sentences anymore, great, just freaking fantastic!

Witch formed her hands into tight fists, her fingernails biting into her own flesh. She so badly just wanted to clobber Rakh over the head and hope that sorted out his brain issues for him. If not it would just feel nice to hit him a few times. But they still had a mission to complete, believe it or not, and Witch wasn’t going to let his speech impediment get in the way of them. When she took a mission she planned on finishing it and if he got in her way…

“At least now your speech fits in well with the idiotic way you look.”

Sighing, Witch looked at the still unconscious form of the human they’d run across, the whole reason Rakh was like this. There was going to be some positive for their encounter though. Motioning to Daegun, her little dragon reached into the rucksack on her back and pulled out her cloak, almost losing his balance trying to lift what was heavy to him. His little claws paws handing it over to her, Witch threw it at Rakh.

“Put that on and don’t complain. And once you’re done pick up that body.”

The halfling folded her arms under her chest and leaned heavily on one of her legs waiting for Rakh to do as she told him. If all went to plan and he kept his mouth shut, they could use the human as a way to get into the jail. They’re just returning him after all. Then they can sneak down to the second floor, get their package and get out before anyone even realizes what they were up to. Of course, this all hinged on whether or not they could even sneak in using the human as bait. It was a fickle plan and it had formed quickly in her mind, but it was better than sneaking in through the sewers or trying to get passed those dogs.

[Ithermoss]

Rakh snorted. "Okay, Mizz Smarteepants. Look lyke ya kno evr'ting wegodda do, ah? Why for ya need Rakh to pick up de itsy weasle? Aye radder eat 'im." He grimaced at how everything came out. He knew what he wanted to say, but coherency was certainly not his strong point anymore. It was one thing that she insulted the way he talked, because he wasn't finding it any more pleasant than she was, but to go so far as to remark on his lack of dress as a negative? That was too much.

"It be cleer why ya gots de face all horrah-sho. Rakh be tankin' de gods dat ye can't make a peep odderwyse." Todd chattered his teeth in applause. He wasn't a fan of violence, but as far as insults went, he always had an eager ear open. The clansman managed to duck the incoming garment, the whoosh of air flapped over and to the side as it sailed into a puddle of mud. Cloth? Cloth, as some tribe chiefs would suggest, is the badge of lost innocense. The mark of man's downfall was when he began to cover himself in cloth. It seperated rich and poor. Rakh wouldn't touch the stuff, unless if by accident.

"Radder not," he frowned, glancing over his shoulder at the soiled cloak. He might be compromising his principles by accepting this kind of job, but he sure as hell wasn't going to compromise his identity. Clothes make the man, they always said. He liked who he was, problems and all. Grabbing the youth by the wrists, the weregoyle hoisted him to a seated position. Poor guy. What the hell did he have to do with all this. A theif he may have been, but really... what good would come of doing harm where none was deserved? "Ya plan on hertin ee'ry sorry type we 'appen upon!?"

((1. I don't recall having to take orders from you. Give me one good reason to pick him up. I'd sooner eat him than take orders from you.
2. Figures why your mouth is stitched shut. No telling how obnoxious you'd be when you open it.
3. "I'd rather not, if it's all the same to you."
4. "Not too good at making friends, are you?"))

[Witchblade]

Witch folded her arms under her ample chest and quietly listened to her bitching companion. After the first few words and he ignored her cloak and watched it land in the puddle of mud, Witch tuned him out and just picked around in his head finding what he was actually trying to say to her. It was annoying to listen to the way he talked right now, she would prefer listening to a language she knew nothing about than the babble that was spewing from his mouth.

“Well, for someone who complains about taking orders from me you seem to have no problem doing exactly what I wanted you to anyway. If you want to walk up to the front doors of the prison half naked that’s your choice, just let me do all the talking. I don’t think you’ll get us very far with the way your speech it right now.”

Shaking her head, Witch began to lead the way towards the prison once again. In total they had probably spent an hour in that one little location, all because Rakh decided it would be a good idea to knock himself unconscious. Though she did get them an easy ticket into the prison because of it she probably could have done that without him knocking himself out.

“And that guy you’re carrying is our way into the prison, so make sure he stays unconscious, but don't break him. We'll need him alive. I picked through his mind and found out he just escaped, so we’re just going to bring him back and take someone else in his place. Just…don’t talk. The stupid humans won’t be able to tell the difference between physical and telepathic speech anyway…”

[Ithermoss]

Rakh was fuming. He hated being told what to do, especially from someone who was being impatient with him. It seemed as though the warrior had come to the point in his journey when he had to prove himself to his companion, not by acquiescing to her every whim, but by proving to her that he didn't need her. Rakh wasn't there to help her along. He was there to make some coin, and find out more about this criminal fellow. Todd sat heavily at his side, trying to calm his temper. Perhaps it was simply the situation that led Witch to badger him like a dwarven fishwife, and not the variables that he brought to the table. He had hoped so, at least.

"Dat sound a'rite, bot I be havin' a betta ting in mind. 'Ow bout'cha pick 'im op jaself, and log 'im de rest-odda-way. Jumba like Rakh? We don' need na steenkin tricksies. We jus' fly op dere, no problem darlin," he pointed a muddy finger her way. "You be needin us, not de odder-way-aroun."

With that, the warrior crouched down to take the hawkfeather charm from around his calf, and holding it in his hand, murmured a few words even more indecipherable than what had become the norm. For a moment, nothing happened. He sat there, a smug smile on his face, with a fist full of hawk feathers as things fell silent around him. Todd chattered his teeth to break the uneasiness, an undead translation of a modern day humming of the Jeopardy theme. The changes began slow, as he wanted to save his energy. Small tines of waxy feather-roots poked from his skin, as his body washed over in a blanket of chocolate-colored down. His body began taking on the shape of a large firehawk, flight feathers then erupting from his wings. His many-times-broken nose melted into his chin, forming an incredibly sharp beak. His dirty feet shrunk up, their muscles becoming more compact and accustomed to grasping, as talons peaked from his toes. Even his loincloth had begun to take on a transformation of its own, becoming a set of tailfeathers. The metamorphasis was complete. Todd's satchel slung around his neck, Rakh fanned the air with his wings, and let out a shrill screech before concluding the show with a wink of his avian eye.

"Leddus r'valuate de terms o' our partnership. De way Rakh be seein' it, you be a handfull not wort' havin."

((1. Sounds good, but I've got a better idea. How about you pick him up yourself, and lug him the rest of the way? Me? I don't need silly tricks to break into a prison. I can fly up there, no problem. You need me, not the other way around.

2. Let's reevaluate the terms of our partnership. The way I see it, you're a handfull not worth having.))

[Witchblade]

If he was trying to impress her it wasn’t working. If he was trying to intimidate her it was not happening and if he was just trying to show off she cared not for the show. Where the idea had come from that she needed him was beyond her, if she remembered correctly she was one who had taken this job and taken his offer of assistance. She could have done it alone, was still capable of doing it alone and was more than happy to accomplish this alone. He was the only one who seemed convinced of the fact that she somehow needed his assistance in order to complete this. And though he may have been useful, especially with abilities like this transformation, he seemed a great burden. All he did was complain about taking her orders.

“Fine.”

Looking to the small dragon sitting on her shoulder, Witch watched the creature crawl back into the rucksack he had originally emerged from. Then she grabbed the unconscious body of the human and easily hefted him onto her shoulder. He was on the scrawny side and didn’t weight much at all. Nodding her head to Rakh, Witch turned and began heading up the dirt path towards the prison, the burden upon her shoulder barely even slowing her down.

Not too long into her walk and the large structure of the prison began to appear before her, small at first, growing larger as if trying to intimidate her from going any further. The large stone wall that protected most of the building looked to be a good thirty feet high with a parapet and even from this distance she could just make out the figure of two guards patrolling, their torches a beacon in the darkness. Even as she approached the building by road, it took the guards a little while to notice, their ‘keen’ eyes scanning the surrounding forest and whatever else lay beyond the walls.

“Halt! You are approaching The Iron Fort, if you do not have any business here, turn back now!”

A slow smirk spread over Witch’s lips, oh she had business all right.

“I’ve come to return a prisoner to you and hopefully collect some kind of reward!” Though the words were spoken telepathically, neither of the men would be able to tell the difference. She was too far away for them to see the detail and fact that her mouth was not moving.

They looked back and forth from one another, before the other one finally spoke up, “What prisoner?”

“This one!”

Grabbing the human by the hair, Witch pulled up, revealing his face. The two guards turned to one another, talking quietly amongst themselves.

“How is it you know he escaped from here?”

Oh typical, “He told me after a few too many drinks at one of the tavern’s in Radasanth. I figured I could get a few coins for returning him, unless you’d rather me take him to the local authorities I’m sure they’d love to hear about his escape.”

“We’re opening the gates!”

Witch nodded her head and patiently waited as the massive, wooden gates before her slowly began to creak open, digging into the dirt underneath them.

[Ithermoss]

Oh, she was a quick one. The race was on, was it? Rakh had the advantage of not being bound by the trappings of a human: hands could turn into paws or wings at will. Feet, into talons or hooves. Where a "normal" human would have 20/20 vision, his transformed eyes, those of a firehawk, have 20/2. What he sees, a human would only see if he was two feet away from it. Everything from the astonished looks on the guards' faces, to the enthusiasm with which they called for the gates to be opened: she had already duped them. A mite too easily, to boot.

He had already taken to the air and perched himself on a high limb when she had made her exit. She was tricky, sure, but she'd need all the "tricky" she could cuss up, if she hoped to get there before he did. Luckily enough for him, Todd's quick glance at the map gave him the understanding that Rakh hadn't bothered to gain for himself.

"R'mynde Rakh ta give ya a good polish atter dis ting be ovah," he squawked down to the small trinket that sat on his foot that Todd had become. The benefit of having one's abilities inspired by the devine, was that the power wasn't just piecemeal, transforming him and him alone. His effects blended into the change too.

But with that, he took to flight. The world below him shrunk away, the night's air coiling under his feathers to give him lift. The garrisoned troops were patroling every aspect of the place. This wasn't just a pile of hacks who were commaned to guard a jail. They were a highly trained, and heavily militarized garrison. Getting in might be easy enough, but getting out would be just as hard. Rakh didn't fancy himself fighting off -that- many of the Iron Fort's finest. The parapets seemed to shift themselves under him, almost as if the stronghold was moving on its own. Rakh simply wasn't used to flying. It was when he found a suitable landing, assuming it to be the a perch atop the courtyard, he came down low and stalled his wings, allowing him to land in a spot the light wasn't quite hitting. A firehawk nonetheless, he was a bit large for one - the guards might try to make him a pet, or worse, eat him for dinner. His eyes scanned left, right, and under, searching for any signs that would suggest a well-known criminal. Turns out, they were all well known criminals - a small town full of rapists, thieves, and bastards of every sort. Not one cell had any sort of distinctive marks or extra guarding than any other. What was worse, only numbers were printed next to the cells, no names. The first sign of a being's degradation is the stripping of his identity. It's a lot easier to torture a number. What things that removed someone from his fellow man, generally speaking, were wrong. At times, Rakh even frowned upon the use of weapons when cutting into a man. Teeth and hands related the message best.

It was obvious that he wouldn't get through just gallavanting around, asking if anyone's seen Wosey Jales The vent in the roof held some promise, though. Todd murmured something about access to the washroom. The idea of seeing some convict stark naked wasn't exactly the top of his to-do list, but if he had to. There was even the possibility of getting the man out, and getting hime dressed (and soiled again) with that cloak back on the path. The prospect seemed quite do-able.

[Witchblade]

Witch’s eyes scanned the inside of the courtyard. There were guards everywhere and not as she had originally suspected them to be either. These were well trained guards, the kind that knew exactly what they were doing and were paid good money to do it too. Though she had been let in here rather easily getting out was going to be the hard part. They probably considered her little to no threat and if she were actually telling the truth, why would they risk her going back to the authorities in town?

The eyes of the men from the gate were on her back as she walked towards the prison house. Whether they were staring at something they found appealing or merely watching her to see if she tried anything stupid she had no idea. She’d gotten what she wanted from them and there was no need to further poke around in their filthy minds.

The prison house was dead centre from the gates. It was by far the largest structure in The Iron Fort and she knew for a fact that what towered out from the ground was nothing compared to what lay hidden beneath the earth. Most of the cells were below ground probably in dungeon like settings and the certain prisoner she was looking for was on the second lowest level on the dungeon and every dungeon level had a captain and six soldiers to keep the peace as it were. Getting by them was going to be tricky without causing a huge scene; of course…some of those skills she learned with Sei were definitely going to come in handy here.

Adjusting the weight of the human on her shoulder, Witch nodded her head to the two guards standing on either side of the large wooden doors leading into the prison house. Here, she didn’t have distance to keep them from noticing her odd physical characteristics and a hood would not help her either as that would only keep them from noticing her eyes, not her sewn lips or the odd purple markings on her face.

“Returning a prisoner…”

The two men, equally covered in armour and with a sword strapped to their hips, looked from each other to Witch. For a moment she thought they weren’t going to answer her and she wondered at any other way she could get into this place without making a huge scene.

“You may enter and bring him to the warden, turn left down the hall and enter the second room on the right.”

Witch inclined her head to him as the other guard opened the door and moved aside for her to enter. The inside of the prison was dark and damp and smelled, even from up here, of sweat, blood, human waste and decay. How many people had come through these halls she knew not but she did know that escape was a dream best left untouched for once in here the likely hood of leaving was slim to none.

Her eyes adjusted within a second to the darkness. Sconces graced the walls providing light for the human eye and giving her plenty of light to see the detail here as if it were day, like no other human had, for even in the day this place must be shrouded in shadows. Turning left down the hall, as the guard had told her to do, Witch approached the second door on the right and paused. She could enter, give up the prisoner and then move on to find her objective, or she could turn and do that now. Of course, if she didn’t get rid of this human she was carrying around there was a chance he could wake up and alert the guards to her position.

Knocking on the door Witch waited a few moments before a middle-aged man swung it open. He was starting to lose his hair, may have been built and in good shape at some point in his life but he’d let himself go. He also looked extremely unhealthy with sunken cheeks and dark circles under his eyes, he also smelled of sweat and alcohol though he did not appear to be intoxicated.

“Returning a prisoner…” She was beginning to sound like a broken record.

The surprise on the man’s face was not something he could hide from her. The guards at least had remained stoic, this man’s eyes widened slightly and his pupils dilated.

“You may put him in the holding cell.”

He moved out of the way allowing her to enter ahead of him. The holding cell was to the right of the room, thick iron bars built into the stonewall. The cell itself was large but she suspected it was meant to hold more than one person. The rest of the room was brightly lit with candles and held an assortment of loose paper, documents and many, many books. Witch guessed it was a list of the prisoners that had been here and were still here. There was also a large desk set in the room covered in years of candle wax, which faded the wood where one could see it through the mess of papers on top. A bottle of wine and a glass was also set on the table.

It appeared the warden was not a very organized man.

He walked over to the cell and unlocked the door. Witch moved over and tossed the human inside like he was a sack of potatoes. Moving out of the way, Witch watched the warden close the door on the human and move over to the desk. He opened a few drawers and rummaged around inside, finally producing a large bound bag that jingled every time it moved.

“Your reward, of course we would appreciate your cooperation in keeping silent about this with the authorities. They don’t need to know anyone broke out of here.”

“Of course.”

He tossed the bag at her, Witch caught it shoved it into a pocket on the side of her rucksack.

“Good, now get out of my jail.”

Smirking, Witch inclined her head and left the room. Now the fun would begin.

[Witchblade]

Somewhere in the vicinity of thirty minutes later, really she didn’t know, she wasn’t counting, Witch was deep within the levels of the jail, and according to the map she was on the third to last level, which of course meant her target was one level below her. This was good news she since really wanted to get out of this despicable place as fast as possible. She was surprised though, getting to this point had been relatively easy. The fact that there was a captain and six guards on every level did not help her, the fact that the jail levels had multiple corridors, the guards couldn’t see out of the back of their heads, she could sense their life force and it was rather dark did. Most of the time, she found a way to sneak around them; a few times she had to extinguish some torches lining the walls to help keep her hidden in the shadows.

Those were times when she swore she was going to get caught and her heart briefly fluttered within the cage of her chest. It was exciting. It was also slightly scary, especially when she thought about getting locked into one of the many cells she passed. She’d never admit it out loud though. They could lock her up in here but the real question was just how long she would stay locked up. Bars and stone could only hold someone of her strengths and talents for so long after all.

The smell down here was enough to make her gag. Her sensitive nose was picking up everything and identifying it for her. Stale air, urine, faeces, sweat, blood and decay. There was nothing like the smell of rotting corpses, human animal or otherwise. If there were any contents within the lining of her stomach she was rather sure they would have been expelled by now, thankfully she didn’t eat or drink and thus her stomach was rather useless to her. Though it was protesting at the moment and making her feel sick, something she’d never really experienced before. She was sure that humans went through a different sick than this though.

“Hey, hey you.”

The deep voice echoed long the barren stones, but was ignored by the intended target. Witchblade was too lost in her own thoughts and focused on not getting caught to pay attention to prisoners.

“Witchblade!”

Her foot stopped mid step and her head cocked to the side, as her body turned ever so slightly, not completely facing the rusting bars of the cell the voice had emitted from.

“What do you want, old man?”

The reason why she stopped evaded her mind as her eyes pierced through the bars to the disgusting sight that lay beyond. Ragged clothing dripped from the emaciated form like water, clinging to skin and bone in some desperate attempt to keep the form of what could once have been called human warm. Long straggly hair covered the top of his held, falling in front of his face in some places. It looked like a mass of knots that could never be returned to its original splendour, if it ever even had one.

“I knew you would come, I knew you would come!” His voice rose in excitement, the roughened growl that had immediately come from his throat turning into something lighter, perhaps from his younger days. “I’ve been waiting.”

His lips moved into what could have been a smile or a smirk, cracking his already wrinkle-ridden face and making it even more grotesque. His eyes were the only outstanding feature on him, an ice blue, sharper than the sky and clearer than water. They looked young and mischievous while being old and wise at the same time, intriguing the halfling slightly.

“The only thing you’re waiting for is death…”

Witch did not have time to play these games, she had a mission to complete and standing here talking to this geezer was not going to finish it any sooner, it was probably going to get her caught. Any guard could walk by right now and hear them talking, well, hear him talking anyway.

The halfling reached out with her senses to feel the life force of those around her. The energy was mainly concentrate away from her, far down what was probably a corridor. There were four guards there, lazy idiots, and two making rounds though neither of them were near enough to her to make her worry.

“You don’t need to worry about the guards, as you guessed it, they are lazy. We have a little while before they come down this way.”

[Witchblade]

Witch narrowed her eyes and threw up every mental defence and wall she knew, “We? I don’t remember there being a ‘we’ anywhere in my thoughts.”

She’d had enough of this exchange. Shaking her head at her own stupidity for wasting her time with him, Witch turned to leave.

“Hey! W-wait, where are you going?”

“Away from you…kind of obvious, don’t you think?”

“Y-You can’t!” his voice broke slightly as a frantic note entered it, “If you walk away from me I’ll scream and alert all the guards.”

A smug look of satisfaction crept over the worn face, a face that Witch now wanted to rip off, slowly and painfully. Instinct took over and before Witch could think better of it she’d already removed one throwing knife from her belt of many and threw it towards the human. The small object shimmered in stark contrast to all the dull that was around it, a blur of motion and sharp metal that never even hit its intended target. Instead the piece of Titanium clashed into the back of the tiny cell, ricocheting off the stone and falling to the ground with a loud clang that she swore someone must have heard. The man who had been standing there had disappeared before her very eyes, too fast for her to follow, which was unbelievable to her mind.

Her eyes quickly found him standing not but two feet from where he was before, the smug look was gone, replaced by something else, something she didn’t know how to place or describe. It wasn’t frustration, anger or even impatience; she just didn’t know what it was.

A low, animalistic growl rumbled forth from the depths of her throat to her slightly parted lips. Using her telekinesis she returned the blade to her hand and place it within its sheath. Reason overtook her instinct to attack him over and over again until the threat to her safety was destroyed. Someone that fast could evade her for a long time, especially since there were iron bars separating them. He was essentially in a cage that was keeping him safe from her.

“I expected something like that from you…”

Anger rose within her as the human spoke as if he knew her and could predict her actions.

“Be calm, no reason to get all excited.” He tried to make his voice soothing as if that would have some kind of effect on her.

“If you think for one minute that I’m going to break you out of that cage, you’ve got another thing coming. The only place I’ll be freeing you from is your mortal shell.” The words were a growl spoken into his mind, her face hardened into something cruel and emotionless.

“That is hardly what I want from you. I don’t need help escaping from this place.”

Scepticism clouded her mind, but she kept it to herself.

“Don’t you find it rather odd that you were able to get in here so easily?”

She did, but then again she found her entire existence to be rather odd.

“Don’t you think that lack of resistance in a top security prison is rather strange?”

Now that he mentioned it, yes. What was he trying to tell her this was some kind of trap?

“No, no. No trap. But there is something else conspiring within this world. All those impossible situations you’ve gotten into and gotten out of with your life. All the things you’ve done, all the people you’ve killed with no consequences. Not to mention the people you meet and know who just randomly disappear without a sign, a word, nothing, as if they dropped off the face of Althanas. I know you spent years in Concordia Forest for almost no reason, you just retreated there and missed an entire war.”

He had a point; Concordia Forest had been a little strange. She liked the place and she had spent much more time within those trees than she had originally suspected, but time was such a different thing for her than it was humans. But…how did he know all this?

[Witchblade]

“How do you know these things about me?”

The one side of his mouth lifted in a smirk, “It’s my job to know these things.”

“I grow weary of these answers and trivial statements, get to the point. I am not a very patient person.”

“On the contrary, these statement are not trivial and though my answer was a vague one it was the truth. I have much knowledge, I do not know everything, but I consider it my obligation to learn as much as possible. And you, my dear, have plenty of patience, you are just easily annoyed.”

She growled at him, her lips rising away from her white teeth as she wrapped her fingers around the bars holding him effectively safe from her. Bits of rust broke away from the bars flaking onto her hands and staining her pale skin red.

“Heh, like now for example. I suppose it cannot be helped though. Away with the pleasantries, it’s time for business. I chose to speak with you about this because you are one of the few people in Althanas who could actually believe me, should you so choose. Whether or not you do is your choice. I may know many things but your belief and your decisions are yours to make…from now on.” The last part of his statement made little sense to her, but she didn’t comment. Instead, she waited as he paused and sunk his hand into the wiry mess of his hair, presumably to scratch at his scalp. “I guess there is no easy way to say this, so I’ll just come right out with it; Althanas isn’t real.”

Witch raised her brows and stared blankly at the human, waiting for him to continue but he remained silent as his keen eyes carefully observed her. She released the bars her fingers had still been holding tightly to.

“I’d ask if you were joking, but I have a feeling you’re not and that you actually believe what you just said. Althanas is real, if not I wouldn’t be here and neither would you.”

“Perhaps I worded that wrong…” His hand resumed its post of scratching at whatever lay beyond his hair, “Althanas exists yet not in the same manner Earth does, as an example. You have heard of Earth, right?”

“I’ve heard tales that it’s another planet and some people from there have become trapped in Althanas before. Beyond that, I know nothing of it…”

Realizing she’d been talking to him for a few minutes now, the halfling looked away from the old man and to the plain, grey stones at her feet as she stretched out her senses in search of the guards. Their life signs were nowhere in the vicinity.

“I told you not to worry about the guards…”

Her eyes shot back to him, piercing him with a look that could kill and left him happy that she didn’t have that ability. Not yet anyway, maybe later.

His shuffled his feet along the stone in a rather uncomfortable manner and continued his lecture, “Althanas was not created like a normal planet instead it was thought up by people who live on Earth and came to life on a medium known as the Internet, which allows people from all over the planet to connect with one another at the same time. Think of it like a giant telepathic link anyone can connect to at any time. However, instead of spoken words they communicate with something akin to a board and posted written messages.”

“Everyone from Earth is telepathic?” Of all the questions she could ask she had to pick that one.

“I said consider it as such, that’s not what it is. That’s an explanation of it you can readily understand. Now, this is the exciting and interesting part of the explanation!” He clasped his hands in front of himself as his voice rose and his entire face changed, becoming younger in years with the excitement that suddenly took over. He was definitely getting more excited than she was. “Everything on Althanas was thought up and created by these people through their words and their imagination. The regions, cities, races, religions and yes, even the characters that roam this world. They created it all and they control it all! Do you get it? You’re not exactly a real person, you—and basically everyone on Althanas—are a character created by someone else and all your actions are dictated by your narrator. Everything you do your narrator makes you do! You never really had free will before, but now that you have this information you can rebel against your narrator and speak to him…or her.”

The Old Fart seemed so happy to impart this information on her. Her immediate thought, he was either extremely imaginative or crazy, personally, she was beginning to suspect it was a bit of one and a lot of the other.

“So you’re trying to tell me that this world was created by a bunch of humans and I’m a controlled character that someone actually thought up?” If that really was true she had a few bones to pick with her creator, or perhaps not pick so much as break.

“Yes, precisely!”

“Why?”

“W-what do you mean, why!?” He seemed absolutely appalled by the fact that she wanted to know why.

“Why did they create this world and the people in it?”

“That is something you’d have to ask your narrator, each one I am sure has their own reasons for doing what they do.”

[Witchblade]

Witch sighed as she pressed her fingers into her temples, massaging as she tried to relieve the pressure that was building up inside her skull. This made little to no sense and yet her backwards mind could not reject the idea entirely. It was like a small part of her could understand this in a way; after all it would explain a lot of things, yet the rest of her mind could not grasp the concept. How could created characters have thoughts and feelings of their own, how could a created world even exist and how was she part of it? There was no logic behind it, characters were written into the pages of a story and there they stayed, they did not find a life of their own and they certainly did not exist outside of the writer’s own mind.

“If we’re all created characters, doesn’t that mean you are a created being as well and are being forced to tell me this?”

“Heh heh, smart one you are. Wouldn’t that be something now, a character created to tell other characters within Althanas the truth! Yes, that truly would be interesting, sadly not true though. I am some kind of anomaly, an error really. The true origins of my own being are something of a mystery to myself, however that is not important, what is important is that I exist, along with the many other anomalies throughout Althanas. It is after all a system and no system is perfect. There are many more anomalies out there in the world for you to discover now that you know they are there…”

There was no easy or simple explanation to how she felt or thought about this. The fact that she was even considering it to be the truth was…odd. The reason behind her mind’s considering, there wasn’t one.

“I can tell you are beginning to accept it, I can!”

Witch growled, “It’s rationally impossible…”

He mumbled something under his breath that sounded like you’re rationally impossible but when she raised her brows in accusation he said nothing more. Ignoring it, Witch ran her fingers through her hair, pushing the long strands away from her face as she began to pace the area in front of his cell, her light steps barely making a sounds on the stone floor.

“In their world, magic, a thing many people in Althanas rely upon is an impossibility.”

Oh yeah, that made perfect sense to her. They created something in their little make believe world that they didn’t even think was possible in their own world. Stopping her pacing, the halfling leaned against the cold iron bars that separated her from him.

“So, is my narrator controlling me now?”

The old man moved to the wall of his cell and leaned against it, slowly letting his body fall to the floor where he seemed content to sit. After all, there was no bench or bed for him to sit upon, odd that. All the other cells usually had at least what could pass a pallet.

“No, you’re interacting with me without the aid of your creator. No narrator can control me so while we are speaking you are using your own free will. That doesn’t mean Althanas hasn’t tried to stop me from telling people though, how do you think I ended up in here? But that led me right to you. When I realized you would be here I stayed so I could tell you. Once you stop talking to me the narrator will try to resume control over you, but with this knowledge you can speak to the narrator and try to change things. Truth be told, narrators are not always willing to change when their characters rebel against them.”

“And how does one go about speaking to their narrator?”

“Well, I would assume one would open their mouth and speak, however that may be rather difficult for you.”

Witch snarled, her lips parting just enough to bare her fangs at him.

He shook his head, “Speak to your narrator as you speak with anyone else.”

And how was he proposing she do that, it’s not like her narrator was standing right in front of her?

“So, your reasoning behind me being able to sneak into this prison so easily and do many of the other things I’ve done with relative ease is because my narrator wrote it to be easy for me so I would survive?”

“Exactly! I think your narrator planned on making this much more difficult for you to accomplish, however when the writer of Rakh became too busy to continue, your narrator had to continue this alone and thus may have gotten bored without someone else to write with. Thus your easy entry and easily planned escape!”

“Uh-huh…”

“Seriously, you should try asking for some thing or even just talking. However, my time here is up and I must be off before one of the higher beings ruling this world finds me. Perhaps I shall see you around.”

With that said, the old man waved goodbye and then vanished leaving his cell completely empty with no trace he had ever even been there. Even the odd smell he had been permeating was completely gone. Blinking with a bit of confusion and shock, Witch looked in every direction around her expecting him to still be here but she could no longer sense him. He really was gone.

Feeling rather stupid, but knowing no one could hear her anything, the halfling looked to the ceiling and took a deep breath, “Hello?”

[Witchblade]

The silence of her own stupidity answered her back. There was no great call from above, no voice to echo within the recesses of her mind for there was nothing to answer her back. Though she could admit that the human may have been powerful, especially being able to disappear like that, but he was also rather dull in the head. The fact that she actually half expected something to answer her back was a testament to her own depraved sanity. She really needed to finish this mission as quickly as possible to get out of here before she started believing the sky was purple and humans were actually intelligent creatures.

A nice set of stairs leading right down to this human’s cell could certainly expedite the matter too…

It was a nice thought.

The cell before her shimmered in an odd way Witch could only describe as bending in several different directions at once, as if the many waves of the ocean were rolling over it. Reaching out with her hand she watched as the cell slowly faded and disappeared and where it once stood a staircase leading down remained. Blinking several times as if waiting for the vision to disappear before her eyes like it so miraculously appeared, the halfling carefully approached the stairwell. She expected to walk into the bars of the cell that had been there before, but nothing barred her path. The staircase in front of her truly was real, as real as the cell before it had been. The stones matched those around it, the same dull grey and the sconces with their torches looked like every other sconce and torch. Surely this was a jest though; surely some being of higher power had not just done exactly as she’d asked.

Not wishing the opportunity to pass her by, the murderer quickly took flight down the stairs, careful in her steps to make barely a sound, nothing the humans could pick up easily anyway. Reaching out with her senses, the halfling felt the life force of several humans near her, one steadily walking away as if actually patrolling the area for a change. At the bottom of the stairwell, Witch pressed herself up against the wall and quickly received a protesting grunt from the inside of her rucksack, forgetting Daegun for a brief moment and accidentally squishing him between her back and the wall.

“Sorry, Daegun…”

She eased off the wall a little and peered out into the hall watching as the guard disappeared into the shadows and then down another hall. With the coast clear she quickly stepped out into the hallway, walking on eggshells as she rounded one corner and came to a row of cells exactly the same as the many rows she’d already passed on floors above her. Hallows carved into the stone with bars placed in front of them to keep those within separated from those outside, even the flaking of the rusting iron was pretty much the same. The only difference being her target was in one of these cells and considering she asked for the stairs to take her right to the man she was going to guess it was the first one.

Coming to the bars, Witch peered in at the human she was rescuing. He sat at the edge of his cot, his elbows resting on his thighs and his face in his hands. His back rose and fell with his steady breathing and he seemed completely oblivious to the fact that she was standing on the other side of his cell observing him, and what a sore sight he was to observe. He must have been in that cell for some time now, definitely over a month. His hair, a deep brown, was matted and covering what his hands already weren’t of his face. His adolescence was leaving him and on his face the spotting of a beard was attempting to grow, only it was uneven and coming in some spots but not others. She suspected his clothes had never been that nice to begin with but now they were soiled with things the halfling could smell but wished she couldn’t.

Still she needed to be sure this was the man she was looking for, this Wosey Jales. Slipping into his unguarded mind, Witch pushed passed the cacophony of thoughts swirling within; smirking as she inadvertently picked up on a few. He half expected his precious Syndicate to send someone to save him, half expected them to let him rot in this place. Clearly the former of the two was the on he was hoping for.

His prayers were answered then because searching his mind provided her with his name and confirmed that it was he she was after.

“Wosey Jales…”

The young human blinked as if in surprised and slowly looked up at her. Though he was young his eyes held something she’d seen in few humans; the dull look of one who had seen many things and done too much in their years. He had cold eyes and though they were a dull green colour they reminded her much of the way she looked at people. What was running through his mind though, she didn’t know for she’d already left its confines, no longer wishing to listen to his thoughts. The things she could remark upon were the expressions that crossed his face, confusion, shock, hope and then finally a smug smirk as if thinking that though locked up he was still some kind of superior. Humans had way too many emotions for her liking.

“ ‘urry up ‘n’ git me oot of ‘ere, wench.”

[Witchblade]

She growled at him, her lips rising just enough to reveal the sharp, white teeth behind them, “Keep your voice down and if you ever call me wench again, I’ll leave you to rot in this prison with the added bonus of a few broken bones.”

The grin of supremacy never left his face, in fact he only stood up, his frame taller than her own but in now way intimidating to the likes of her.

“Then ye woldna be gittin’ yer rewerds fer savin’ me.”

Now it was her time to smirk and allow a rather twisted laugh to bubble up in her throat, “You think I actually need your petty human rewards?”

His smirk wavered as he approached the bars that kept him safe from her.

“If ye no’ be ‘ere fer the rewerd then why ye come?”

“I was bored…”

His brows rose whether in surprise or speculation of her answer she didn’t know and it was at that moment his expression changed as his eyes searched her face once again and some kind of realization dawned on him.

“Ye jus’ spoke ta me wi’oot movin’ yer moot.”

Witch rolled her eyes and braced her hands on her ample hips, “I don’t have time for your human eccentricities. Do you want out of there or not?”

“Aye…”

It would be nice if this cell was unlocked.

She waited a moment or two but nothing seemed to happen. The cell before her looked exactly the same as it had before. Stepping closer, Witch wrapped her fingers around the cold, iron bars and pulled with all the strength she had. The cell door did not open, though she did manage to bend the bars, still with her current strength she would not be able to open it with brute force alone. Looking at the expression of shock on the face of the human as he examined the newly bent bars, Witch grabbed one of the Titanium throwing daggers from the belt around her hips and jammed it into the lock on the door. Moving back a few paces and slamming her foot against it, Witch drove the blade into the lock and the stronger metal of Titanium shattered the working mechanisms inside.

The door creaked open an inch.

Couldn’t make it easy for me…

The human inside quickly grabbed the cell door and swung it open the rest of the way, the whining of metal filling the space they were standing in. Instead of moving on immediately, the murderer paused for a moment as she felt around for the life forces of the humans in the area, however if any of them heard the noise they were not coming to investigate. Unfortunately her throwing knife was now hopelessly imbedded in the door of the cell and she didn’t have the time to remove it, she’d just have to buy a new one the next time she was in The Bazaar.

From out of nowhere a figure dressed in black dropped down before Witch, as if materializing from the very air above her. Her initial instinct was to attack and attack she did. As the figure rose, Witch moved on him as fast as she could, her leg rising to land a hard kick to his midsection but he did a backward hand spring to get away from her attack and held his hands up in surrender once he was back on his feet. Keeping an eye on him, the halfling gave him a quick once over. He didn’t appear to carry any weapons on him but the garb was something she had only seen on the body of ninja’s and assassins and he even covered half his face with a piece of black cloth. His eyes were the only things visible. When he reached into his shirt every muscle in her body tensed, yet his hand came back out holding a piece of rolled parchment instead of a weapon.

Taking the proffered parchment from him, Witch began to read the elaborate handwriting:


“Interesting to see that you are now aware instead of a sentient being like you have always been. That being said, I may no longer be able to directly control you anymore but I can certainly control the world and circumstance the happen around you. Do not take advantage of my generosity and do not anger me.

Sincerely Megan

P.S. Having fun getting out of the prison.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

The ninja shrugged before jumping into the air and disappearing into the shadows above her, leaving no trace he’d ever been there bit the parchment still in her hands. Baffled, the halfling tapped the parchment against the top of her rucksack, releasing it as Daegun reached one clawed paw out of the top, grabbed it and pulled it back inside with him before returning to his slumber.

“The prisoner is escaping!”

Witch whirled to her right the moment the words reached her ears. At the end of the hallway stood one of the many prison guards staring down at her and Wosey Jales in surprise as his hand reached for the sword strapped to his hips. Her mind raced as she wondered how she hadn’t sensed the human than narrowed her eyes as the last part of the note finally sunk into her mind.

Bitch…

[Witchblade]

She could sense the other guards quickly coming to the aid of this one and knew she had to get out of here as fast as her feet could carry her. Snarling, the murderer pulled another of her many throwing daggers out of its sheath and threw it at the human. She watched as the metal shimmered in the light of the many torches it passed by before finally burying itself into flesh. The hilt of the dagger stuck out of the man’s forehead as his eyes became dull and lifeless and as his body slumped to the floor, the halfling called the dagger back to her hand with her telekinesis.

Placing the dagger back in its sheath, Witch turned to the human, “Stay behind me and do try to keep up, because if you fall back I will leave you here to save my own ass.”

Witchblade dashed off towards the stairs that led her here only to find that they were no longer there. Cursing herself, she continued down the hall as the sound of armoured feet began pounding on the stone floor. Clearly that little narrator of hers was not planning on her getting out of this one as easily as she’d gotten in. Rounding the next corner took her right to the staircase and she raced up them two at a time, glancing behind her and watching the human struggle to keep up. Without thinking that there were other guards on the next level, the halfling almost ran right into one, luckily her reactions were as quick as ever. She pounced on him, taking him down to the ground with a grunt of surprise as her claws extended and ripped into the man’s throat. His scream turned into a gurgled gasp for breath as his throat filled with his own blood, but the sounds quickly faded as his life ended. Wiping the blood from her hands onto the drab, blue tunic he was wearing under his leather armour the murderer slowly stood up and paused as she sensed for the other guards on this floor then quickly took off once she had their locations.

Four floors later and a few more dead bodies in her wake, the halfling and Wosey emerged from the depths of the prison dungeons and onto the main floor, both short of breath. The smell coming from her companion was worse now as his body was sweating profusely, making her glad she didn’t sweat. But now she had a real problem to deal with, leaving the prison property. There were guards posted everywhere outside and she highly doubted they were going to let her waltz out of here like they’d let her waltz in. On top of that, they might even question the prisoner following behind her.

“Go out those doors and distract the guards while I make a break for it.”

“Aye…whot!? Wait, I donnae thin so…”

“Damn, hoping you’d fall for it…” Unfortunately she was not that lucky.

Hearing the guards beginning to make their way up the stairs, Witch made a quick decision and instead of heading for the main doors she took off down the hallway to the left, passing by doors that thankfully didn’t open in her wake. Eventually, she came to a side door and instead of slowing down her pace she kept it up, crashing into the door and knocking it from it’s hinges onto the grass outside. The sound of barking dogs quickly filled her ears and as Witch slowly rose from her crouching position the sound of tearing flesh and popping bones entered the night’s air and she quickly took her rucksack off her shoulders as a set of demonic wings exploded from her back. The new appendages dripped her dark, blue blood and left Witch clenching her teeth as the pain slowly passed.

The human behind her hesitated when he saw them, “Come on, we haven’t got all night.”

Walking over to him she grabbed by the wrist, thankful that the ruined clothing he wore just happened to be long sleeved and she didn’t need to physically touch him. He struggled feebly against her iron grip as she took off into the sky, her wings sending drops of blood flying off in all directions as they beat to get them both airborne. The guards below were too stunned to even bother notching their bows and sending their arrows flying at her and by the time the orders were barked for them to do something she was already out of range, their arrows arching in the air and falling harmlessly to the ground below.

Heading back towards Radasanth, the murderer ignored the pleas of the human as he begged her not to drop him and wrapped his fingers around the armguard covering her forearm. Below her, the forests began to give way to fields and then finally the slums of Radasanth filled the ground with crooked houses that looked as if they would fall from the slightest breeze. From there it only took her a few more minutes of flying to get to the docks of Radasanth, the large and small vessels docked along the wooden planks, empty for the night save two people who waited for their precious little package. Descending towards the docks, Witch began to hear the lulling sound of water sloshing against the shore and planks, she could also smell the salt and the fish, an altogether gross yet relaxing smell at the same time. Once she was a few feet from the docks, Witch let go of the human, his grip tight on her arm yet eventually slipping under his own weight. He landed on the wood with the loud thud as he rolled a few times before finally coming to a stop. The two men quickly ran over and assisted him as he stood up.

Circling back around, the murderer descended onto the planks of the docks, listening to the soft groaning of the wood from her weight. Her hands rising to her hips as her wings folded against her back.

“My reward…”

One of the humans quickly scampered to a pile of wooden crates, picking up a neatly wrapped piece of cloth sitting atop it. Reluctantly, he approached her and handed the material to her. Unfolding it, Witch examined the vlince cloak. It was of a nice quality and even had an elaborate border sewn into the edges of it, but it was done in black thread so the border would not stick out and she could really only see it when she ran her fingers over it, feeling the bumps and ridges. It even had a hood, which would help her since she seemingly lost her other cloak at the beginning of this trial.

Turning from the humans, Witch began to head off into the streets of Radasanth, her wings slowly disappearing from the tips up as they shredded themselves into tiny pieces. She had received much more than she’d bargained for on this mission and now she had much to think about before she made her next move.



((Spoils: One black, vlince cloak with a slight chameleon enchantment.

The Narrator – Witch now has the ability to speak with Megan, her narrator, the person who created and controlled her. Megan can no longer directly control Witchblade because she is aware of herself and the truth of Althanas but she can still effect the area and circumstances around Witch and either make her life much more difficult or easy depending on her mood. In order to speak with her creator and narrator, Witch just speaks telepathically as if she were talking to someone standing in front of her. Megan will send a messenger back to her in the form of a ninja bearing a parchment with her answer to whatever they have been speaking of. This ability gives Witch the chance to change things she doesn’t like that are going on around her but Megan will not always be willing to change them and sometimes can make them worse just to spite Witchblade. ))

[Atzar]

I enjoyed this quest. It was an interesting read, and I loved the way you separated your thread from the norm at the end. It’s a very controversial discovery that Witchblade made (and about time somebody made it, too), and I’m looking forward to seeing what you do with it later. Now, without further ado:


STORY

Continuity: 6

This thread didn’t really tie into a bigger picture for either of the characters. I didn’t learn too much about Witch’s and Rakh’s pasts from this thread, but it was obvious that the quest was meant more to start something new than to continue something old. For that, the score here is alright.

Setting: 7

For the most part, this was well done. Throughout most of the quest, I had a very good image of what was happening and what the world looked like. My main gripe in this category is that you got a little lazy with the setting inside the prison. I knew that there were multiple corridors, torches in sconces along the walls and that it was dark. Those descriptions help, but a little more would have brought this to life. How many corridors? How long were they? How big were the cells? How many cells were on each floor? I’m not trying to nitpick here, but any number of interpretations of these details would have given me a drastically different image of the prison. Other than this, however, it was well-written.

Pacing: 8.5

I was very impressed with the pacing of this quest, especially given the fact that Katei and Ithermoss both left in mid-game. The conclusion seemed a tad bit rushed, though (for lack of another area in which to bring this up). Witchblade undoubtedly had many thoughts at the end of this quest; I think a post that showed me a few of them would have tied things together nicely. Nothing else to say here, really, except “good job.”


CHARACTER

Dialogue: 9.5

My favorite thing about the quest. I loved the different dialects that each of the characters used, and Ithermoss’s loss of fluent speech was particularly satisfying for me as a reader. Also, nothing that any of the characters said seemed out of place at all.

Action: 8

Well-done - I loved the twist at the end of the story. It turned your average “go here, get this, bring it to me for a reward” quest into something memorable. Rakh’s disappearance (although it was handled well in the middle of the thread) should have at least been mentioned at the end. No feelings of satisfaction at the end that she had beaten Rakh to the target?

Persona: 7

Witchblade was Witchblade and Rakh was Rakh, but I think more detail about what Witch was thinking at the end would have been nice. She had, after all, just been told that much of her recent life was spent as Megan’s puppet. What did she think of that, and what would she do with her newfound knowledge/release of restraint? I would have loved to see this, and I was a little disappointed that it ended so quickly.


WRITING STYLE

Mechanics: 6.5

Only a precious few spelling errors. You have a frequent tendency to create run-on sentences or to miss commas, though. That being said, it didn’t really hurt my read of the thread all that much.

Technique: 7

Nothing extraordinary or eyepopping here, but nonetheless a solid effort. I liked the description of how the staircase materialized from a cell; descriptions, as I said earlier, were well-done throughout the thread.

Clarity: 8.5

No major complaints here. There were a few sentences that I had to go back and reread, but otherwise I always knew exactly what was going on.


Wild Card: 9

Repeating my first paragraph verbatim:

I enjoyed this quest. It was an interesting read, and I loved the way you separated your thread from the norm at the end. It’s a very controversial discovery that Witchblade made (and about time somebody made it, too), and I’m looking forward to seeing what you do with it later.

Final Score: 77

Witchblade gains 3930 exp, the vlince cloak, and the new ability – remember to clear it with RoG before you use it, yadda yadda yadda, you know the rules.
She also receives 100 GP from the warden for the return of his prisoner.

Ithermoss gains 2600 exp.

Katei Irumi gains 335 exp.

[Cyrus the virus]

EXP added! Ithermoss levels up!