To The Citadel and Back, Part 2 (Open)

[LordLeopold]

Although the sky was the pale blue of a desert morning, with no whisp of cloud or shadow of rain, the ground was sopping. Puddles the size of small ponds filled stretches of the marketplace's cobblestone and dirt street, soaking men's trousers up to the knee and sending rolling ripples out across the street each time a donkey cart or running child splashed through them. It was impossible not to tromp through the sticky mud, which did its best to suck shoes off of feet, and the milling mass in the market had stopped drying to leap from dry spot to dry spot a long time ago. Their boots and cartwheels churned up the mud into an almost frothy mixture and filled the air with the organic stench of muck.

Sir Leopold Lord Stevens, trying to put the horrible squelch of mud as it splattered across his shoes and pants out of his mind, ducked between two tall men burdened with sacks of potatoes, and scanned the marketplace for the appropriate booth. He was in the Bazaar, the famous - some might say infamous - trading center in Radasanth. The main stretch of the Bazaar was this wide boulevard, really more of an elongated courtyard, that he was navigating. On either side of the road were the buildings housing the more prosperous merchants' stores, some of them filled with rare and impressive magical instruments of uncertain use, many stuffed with the horrid-looking instruments of war, most filled with useless tchotchke that caught the eyes of inexperienced hayseeds who came here to sell their produce and walked away with more trinkets and dodads than they had imagined they could carry. That was the hyponotic power of the Bazaar merchants, and it had made many men a fortune.

In front of the buildings, enclosed in shanties and some of the sturdier booths, were the shops of the middling merchants. Most sold an array of goods of several different types that, on their own, couldn't support a larger establishment. This ramshackle market extended out from the larger boutiques, expanded slowly over the years out into the street, to the point where it created its own impermanent city block, with unintended streets and alleyways behind the poorly planned construction, branching out to the doorways of the merchants' buildings behind. Stevens knew there were only two reasons to buy anything from the merchants between the street and the older establishments: If you wanted to get gypped, or if you were looking for something so arcane that the only way to pick it up was stumbling across it by the sheer luck that proliferated in those tumbledown stalls.

The duke wanted to get in and out of this mudhole as quickly as possible and head back to the Citadel. The previous night had been quite a trying one, and despite the healing and tending of the monks, he felt weary. Magic could only do so much for a body that needed sleep. He was sure that his brother was nestled in a bed somewhere in the fortress, probably snoring. Petunia, he could feel, was also conked out. After a night like last night, he didn't blame them.

He also wanted to get this item he meant to sell off his hands as quickly as possible. At his side was his sword-cane, which he had had for nearly four years now. It had served him well in many battles, vanquishing opponents all the way from common ruffians to drakes to powerful mages. Now, however, he knew he had to part from it. It was seeped in blood. The blood on his hands, smeared there by the Citadel, could never be wiped clean until this sword was out of his sight. He wished he had been able to send someone else to get rid of it, but the monks were too busy undoing the chaos in the Citadel. Aesphestos had revealed himself in their midst, the revolt among the Ai'Bron had shattered their unity, and battles were still raging between schismatics throughout the building. It was a horrible situation, and Leopold knew he shouldn't divert any of the Ai'Bron from their task. He even felt guilty leaving at such a critical time, but this had to be done, if only for himself. He reconnoitered a section of the Bazaar that looked like it might be receptive towards offers of selling weaponry, and schlepped through the mud towards it.

At either end of the Bazaar, meanwhile, large bands of men were moving into position, hauling in wooden barriers leaning against barrels filled with rainwater, pulling horses and reinforcements into position. The installation of the roadblocks was quick, silent and sudden, just as it was throughout the city. The men manning the barriers were clad in light armor and chain mail, rapiers and dirks hanging from their belts, green plumes poking up from their helmets. A picture of the Citadel with a monk and a nobleman grasping hands in front of it was emblazoned on the front of their armor and across the backs of their heavy gloves. These were the City Guardsmen of Radasanth, moving into positions sent out by courier from the baron's palace at the center of the city. Officers, perched on their unsteady steeds, were handing out pieces of parchment to each of their men. On these broadsides were sketched several rough drawings of men from the chest up. In the dead center of the parchment, monocle and a jauntily perched top hat added for emphasis, was a picture of Leopold Stevens.

((This is open to, at maximum, two other people.))

[The Barbarian]

“Well that was odd,” Tyrael muttered under his breath as he bit into his hot roast beef sandwich. The sudden appearance of guards didn’t flow well with him, since it probably meant trouble, but he decided he could handle anything that might be thrown his way. So he bit into his sandwich again.

As he chewed casually, he thought about his journey through Corone to get here to the Bazaar. He had gotten to a school that taught magic with music, but unfortunately couldn’t stay to learn any lessons. The Bazaar was supposed to be his destination before heading towards the Citadel, where he would hope to find some path for his utterly aimless life. Hoping to either pick up some useful information or a good deal on weapons, he trudged through thick sloppy mud to this place. But nothing came up.

Except this…, he thought pleasantly as he shoved the rest of the sandwich into his mouth. Small streams of juice dribble lightly through the sides of his mouth and he wiped them up like any man would do. With his tongue.

Being almost seven feet tall and built like a tank had its advantages in a situation like this. The guards were holding pieces of paper with some drawing on them and one of them felt like asking around if they’d seen the person. Upon reaching Tyrael, he glanced at his chest, since that was his eye level, and then craned his neck upward. The barbarian glared at him with his dazzling glowing sapphire eyes and the guard left him slightly shaky. Tyrael was well aware of the fact that the guard probably had the skill to fight him, even best him in combat, but one thing was for sure: presence meant everything.

Wiping his hands clean of crumbs, he stepped away from the sandwich vendor and made his way deeper into the crowds. They were nervous, hearing of blockades and soldiers appearing at the ends of the Bazaar. They were afraid blood would stain the ground they walked on. Their blood.

Tyrael wasn’t quite sure what was going on, but he could feel anticipation settling in; like a giddy feeling. Fighting was part of his Lothen Barbarian heritage and he had gone a few weeks without a decent brawl. He almost felt as if he was getting soft.

Suddenly he bumped into someone. Due to his height, he often overlooked people, but his thoughts of fighting had also deterred his concentration on where he was walking. “Sorry about that, wasn’t lookin’ at the road…” he started to say as his eyes studied the man’s face. He was an older man, but by no means close to death. He carried a cane in his hands, and had the look in his eyes of a man in a bit of a hurry. Suddenly the paper came to his mind in a quick flash.

“You’re….that guy,” the warrior said softly, more to himself than anyone else. “Why would they go through all this trouble for someone like…you?”

[Stargazer]

Artemis sat on a bench with the hood of his black cloak pulled as far down over his face as he could with out obstructing his vision. Not that his vision was the best during the day anyway. Once again the night's beautiful colors were invisible, and the day's black and white began. Some things were lost to him as he scanned the crowd, the ornate pattern of a woman's necklace or the intricate designs of a man's coat. Such detail was lost to him for now. Not that dwelling on it would help. The half-demon slowly rose to his feet and stood up tall. It was time to get some food.

Strange, that such a tall figure cloaked in black could wade through the crowd almost unnoticed. But, that was the way it was until he actually got close. Then the individuals stepped slightly to the side, wanting to be out of the way but not insult him.

Approaching a vendor, Artemis ordered some soup. As the half-demon watched the man cook with such ease, he became almost jealous. A creature like a human could navigate in the light just fine, while he himself fumbled. He dropped a few of his scant coins into the vendor’s hands, and met the vendor’s eyes with his own red ones. Artemis smiled as the soup was pushed into his hands a little too hastily and the next customer called up instantly.

The half-demon hardly tasted soup as he drank it, while slowly walking amidst the people of the place. Eventually he came across an area where there were a bunch of guards passing out flyers. Artemis “accidently” spilled his soup on the guard who shoved one at him.

“Watch it!” yelped the guard as the hot liquid spilled down his uniform

“I’m sorry,” replied Artemis smoothly, flashing his fangs in a smile “Here wipe it up with this.” and walked away.

When the guard finally looked at what he was using to clean up the mess, he found the now soaking wet flyer in his hands. By that time, Artemis was already drifting away through the sea of people. He was wondering what he should do with himself that day when he came across a pair of men. One was a being slightly inhuman, and the other the man from the flyers.

“Why would they go through all this trouble for someone like…you?” he heard the taller one say.

Realizing that this could become amusing, Artemis inserted himself into the conversation.

“I, too, would like to know.”

[Redeemer]

"I'm glad 'but where's o'll 'is water come from?'." The ill tempered woman took a long drag of her cigarette, inhaling it all with an unpleasant look on her face. "Didn't even 'ear a storm last night." Her smooth face was still unmolested by time, but too much red in the cheeks tainted her beauty. The woman wore a red blouse, puffed at the sides, and a brown skirt that came to her ankles.

"Aye, still, we needed this. I 'ear the countryside's dry as a bone. Isn't where you said you come from lad." Those blue mascara covered eyes caught me off guard for a second. For three hours I had sat in the alley, under the shade of sheets hung above. Dawn brought light, and I was in no mood to receive burns. So, I had taken refuge here, with three lovely ladies whom shared stories from around Radasanth with me. They were a talkative bunch, and although they were moving on in years, there voices were full of life.

"Yes M'am." I looked down, hoping I had copied their accents well enough. It was a tricky thing, contractions in the oddest places.

An awkward silence fell over the group, and I was to blame. For a moment, I contemplated leaving, venturing out beyond the alleys. The Bazaar is not too far away. Perhaps I can convince someone to buy a trinket for me. But then I remembered the news one of the ladies had said, guards were running about. Some filthy street urchin boy was bound to be harassed, and I was just that, or looked it at least.

"Those guards are raising all kinds a'hell out there..." Said the third girl, in an almost inaudible whisper. She had a virgin shyness to her, and it was obvious she had not been in her line of work long. But she seemed happy enough, throwing the occasional smile now and again.

"Aye, they 'ave love. I wonder what this is all about." The first woman, obviously the most mature, flicked away her cigarette put. A small splatter rippled in the mud. So much muck..

"I 'ear a criminal's out and 'bout." Another one of those charming smiles thrown, right at me no less. She was a cute girl, but not my type.

"I'm guess'in it's somethin' big. Else there'nt be this many guards." I was trying my best to be apart of their conversation, but I felt more and more an outsider. "Maybe we'd see what's go'in on?"

"Later Hun. I'm still tired from last night, I am. 'Sides, if it's anything important, it'll come to us." She let out a chuckle, and courtesy laughs were let out from the rest of us.

I leaned back, and looking up I could see the sheet above glow with sunlight. We all seemed to relax, and as I laid back, and air of unease was lifted. The thick walled brick buildingss, nor the slop that covered the alley no longer mattered. It was just us, and the sound of another cigarette being lit.

[LordLeopold]

Stevens could feel the jostling crowd around him tensing up, going quiet, their eyes turning to their feet, their shoulders hunching. As the duke skirted another puddle, he glanced uneasily at the cowed men, rushing past at either side. Closing him around him was the feeling of a city under siege, not the relaxed and gregarious atmosphere the Bazaar usually exuded. The shoppers stalked from booth to booth like defeated soldiers, squirreling their goods into bags or coat pockets and rushing off. Something was dreadfully wrong. Stevens was too enveloped in his puzzled observations to give much thought to the man who brushed up against him and muttered something that sounded vaguely like an apology.

"Er, dreadfully sorry," Stevens murmured in response, brushing absently at his coat sleeve. "Entirely my fault," his eyes, roving the thinning mob, didn't skirt the frame of the man standing beside him. Why were all these people scattering like mice to their holes? Were those helmets and horses he saw at the far end of the boulevard? Had there been some sort of brawl? The duke leapt, startled, as a second man approached and directly addressed him.

"Ah, pardon me?" Leopold asked, swinging his gaze toward the fellow. He jolted again, nearly dropping his cane, and stumbled a few steps back at the hideous apparition before him. "Good mercy!" he blurted, "Er, ah, I mean to say, uh..." He stuttered, bumbling with his cane and snatching for his monocle, reaffixing it. He trembled slightly at the sight of the imposing, daemonic creature, whose shadowy garb and ruby eyes couldn't help but unnerve the most steely-bowelled man. Grasping for some cheerier visage, Stevens turned to the man who had first addressed him. He gave another yelp and this time entirely dropped his cane in the mud. This creature was no better, an blue-eyed behemoth looming over the lord, the very image of the last person you would want to meet in a dark alley.

Regaining his composure, his knees quaking furiously, the lord slowly bent to the ground, reaching for his swordcane, glancing from one of the men to the next. "My name," he forced out through jaws that refused to stop chattering, "Is Sir Leopold... er, His Royal Highness, Leopold of Salvar." Hoping that this title might slightly cow these monstrosities, Stevens dropped the royal title, stolen from the rightful monarch of the icy continent, and retained despite his ignominious flight back to Corone nearly five months before. His fingers wrapping around the shaft of his walkingstick, Stevens slowly stood back up, trying to extend to his full height, which was still miniscule next to these dark giants. The duke cursed himself silently as he realized that the magical powers of the sword's blade had been spent the night before. He had no offense except its willowy steel and his own wits.

"If you are the servants of Aesphestos," Stevens warned, ever so slowly placing his hand on the handle of his cane and turning it, unlocking the blade within. "Then I warn you that what has been visited upon your master can just as easily be visited upon you. My army stands at the center of the city now, and the monks of Ai'Bron no longer dance on your puppet strings.

"If, however," Stevens continued, "You are merely vagabonds in this city, then I kindly ask your names and what you want from me."

[The Barbarian]

“Easy there. I don’t know any Aphestochic….Aphestonomo…that guy. Never heard of him,” he said as he looked at the crowd. They were thinning out more quickly as each second passed. He knew those guards would find this man like a brown rabbit in the middle of winter. Finding refuge would be their best option.

“I’m just here lookin’ for some type of guidance. Ya know, got lost on my little ‘quest’, heh. Figured the Bazaar would be as great a place as any to find some leads.” Tyrael said casually. He didn’t want the man using the cane on him; he could see a skilled fighter a mile away.

He rubbed his nose as he said, “Well, we should get out of here. I seriously doubt standing out in the open like this is such a great idea.” Tyrael pondered why he would help a wanted man. The mention of his royalty had no effect on him, since the only rules he lived by were those set by the angels that watched him. Any mortal “ranking” made him only snicker at their vain attempt for respect. But something in his gut told him too. He was drawn to this man for a reason beyond his own explanations. Were the angels trying to tell him something? Or was that sandwich not as fresh as the lady had told him it was?

“Oh, the names’ Tyrael. Just your everyday barbarian…”he said nonchalantly as he looked from left to right. The guards were within his eyesight now, but they had failed to pinpoint the fact that their target was close. Perhaps the two bodies of the enormously large wanderers were acting as the perfect screen. But we’ll stand out as well if we don’t act like the crowd…

“Act like the crowd, boys. Don’t wanna seem any different than them, right?” He stepped forward, carefully navigating through the mud. Someplace dark and out of the way would be perfect, at least for a moment. He let his hair fall over his face as he tried to keep it hidden from anyone that might have said they’d seen a large mass of muscle escorting the wanted man around the Bazaar.

Whether they were following him or not, he wouldn’t be hard to find with some reckless searching. Looking for a hiding spot would be much more difficult. Just another day, isn’t it? He thought as he lightly bit his lower lip.

[Stargazer]

"Ah, pardon me?" voiced the wanted man, before clearly taking a look at whom he was addressing. Then, with a more frightened tone, “Good mercy! Er, ah, I mean to say, uh…”

Artemis almost smiled in amusement as the older man fumbled slightly, looking from himself to the other inhuman being. Quite honestly, the half-demon didn’t know how to react. Fear usually put him in a better mood, but a reaction like that was unusual. Considering the fact that he looked human (setting aside the red eyes, pointed ears, and fangs), Artemis was surprised. Now he didn’t know whether to be pleased or insulted. So the half-breed settled for simple tolerance, and assumed a cynical smile.

The demon shifted slightly, to get a better look at the other part human being. Artemis could almost smell the angel on him. Or part angel, he thought with a tilt of his head. He would guess that the being’s eyes would most likely be blue. They carried that certain shade of grey in his black and white vision.

Artemis was startled out of his observatory mood when he heard the wanted man yelp and drop his cane in the mud. The demon-halfbreed listened in interest to the man’s long title of royalty. It mattered little to him what kind of man it was that stood before him. If “Sir” Leopold wanted to scare him off with fancy titles, it was a futile attempt. A human was a human. Governments were always doomed to fail if a human was in charge. The half-breed crossed his arms as the man began to speak again.

"If you are the servants of Aesphestos, then I warn you that what has been visited upon your master can just as easily be visited upon you. My army stands at the center of the city now, and the monks of Ai'Bron no longer dance on your puppet strings. If, however
You are merely vagabonds in this city, then I kindly ask your names and what you want from me."

Artemis did not miss the twist of the cane. Leopold was obviously not a completely empty brained human. He wore the stance of someone who had fought before, and not too far into the past. If they were to fight it wouldn’t be a guaranteed win, that was for sure. The half-demon listened to the other part-human talk before he began to speak, himself.

“You may refer to me as Artemis,” he said while raising both his hands in a peaceful gesture. Realizing that this could easily be mistook for offensive considering there were steel spikes on each knuckle of his black fingerless gloves, he quickly put his hands back down. “Though Aesphestos is unfamiliar to me, if you are being hunted by the guards than I may be able to help you. I hate soldiers.”

Following in the part-angel’s suit, he shrugged his hood farther over his face. As he began to think what should be done next all he could think was, light take it if I’m wasting my time. It’s been a while since I’ve had a good fight.

[Redeemer]

The day was at a standstill, the sun itself seemingly stopped dead above. Soon the very slop that was spewed around the ally seemed to heat up, drying at a snail's pace. Mud, splatter on the walls around us, because to flake and chip, dropping to the ground is a dusty filth. The heat grew stifling and I grew evermore uncomfortable in the alley. A rank stench intruded into my nostrils, causing me to sit up, nearly sick to my stomach. Yet, the sudden squashing of sloppy foot steps intruded my nausea. The eldest of the girls arose, intent on seeing who intruded on our sanctuary.

"Aye, who's there?" An inquisitive crinkle appeared on her face as she squinted her eyes in the sharp light. The first man to enter was aged, but a face full of dignity. He seemed a bit surprised, being pushed along by two more. The second to enter was a tall, lumbering beast with glowing red eyes. He seemed demonic, hateful, and slightly maleficent. The third and last to trudge into the alley was almost in contrast. His eyes were like rare gems, almost glowing in the sunlight. He was tall, but not nearly so compared to the dark creature that came before him. He had a certain flare about him, almost divine.

"Calm down Mauve." The soft spoken one looked worried, obviously over the leader's temper. I rose up, a curious glint in my eyes. It was strange, after the appearance of the soldier to see three so strange in company. I crept slowly, trying my best to remain unseen as the girls approached them. Each had a different look, from shy glances, bewilderment, and open hostility.

Overhead, a large bird cried out, its squawks echoing in the off the brick walls. Something told me this had to be an ill omen. Yet, even as fear gripped me, I still had to know. "Who the hell are they..." I let out in a mumble.

[LordLeopold]

Stevens was not entirely reassured by the responses given to him by the two ruffians. After all, if they were Aesphestos' minions, they would be unlikely to admit it to his face. And one of them, at least, sure looked like a likely candidate for the dark wizard's toadie. However, the weight of the previous night, along with the strain of having walked several miles in the past twenty-four hours, were pressing heavily against Stevens's ageing resolve. At this point, he was willing to simply let fate buffet him about; fighting against it would take too much energy. Why forge his own path if a higher power was plowing one for him? His mind flitted back to his out-of-body encounter with a Mya the night before. That encounter, as confusing and unexpected as it was, indicted that someone out there was looking out for him. He could afford, with his battle experience, letting his guard down at least a bit.

"Hunted by the guards?" The duke responded to Artemis in a puzzled tone. "What guards?" He looked around, frowning, and quickly saw which guards exactly they were talking about. Several men, dressed like they had just come from the Battle of Sedgemoor, were drawing close, sabres at their sides, a grim look in their eyes. They were handing out large sheets of parchment to each harried shopper that rushed past them. Stevens got a brief glance as one flapped in the breeze. His picture was smack dab in the middle of it, with a large scribble across the top that seemed to indicate rewards for his capture. "Ah, those guards," Stevens said, backing slowly in the direction his newfound allies were heading. "City Guards, no less. And looking for me? Oh dear." Stevens, following Artemis and Tyrael into the shadows between two rows of stalls, blinked behind his monocle in confusion. Am I some sort of criminal now? I wonder what the City has me pegged as...

Before he could say deus ex machina, all became clear. A guardsman tried to hand a broadside to a particularly rushed man, who tried to brush past without taking the paper. "I've had enough of you Thayne missionaries!" he cried, pushing away as the guardsman caught his shoulder.

"What?!" The guard cried, leaping after him with a clatter of metal and snatching him by the scruff of the neck, spinning him around. "Ye dumb bastard," the man screamed in his face as the realization that he was not being accosted by a religious fanatic spread over him. "Have ye seen these men? Last night they tried ta take control of the city with mercenaries from the Army of the Light! Damn ye, look at 'em!" the guardsman threw the paper in the man's face and then punched him in the chest, knocking him back. Stevens turned as the angry pedestrian pushed back and the guardsman's partner jangled in, swinging what looked like a billyclub.

"Oh bugger," Stevens muttered as he half-ran towards the shadows of the alley. "Oh... bugger." He entered the shadowy enclave on the heels of the taller men, brushing between them in his haste to get out of the guardsmen's sight. The duke squinted in the darkness as his eyes adjusted, looking from one indistinct figure to another. As his pupils adjusted, it became clear exactly where he had stumbled.

"Oh... erm," he said, his jaw hanging open. "Ah, heh heh. We're not here to buy anything, ladies," he said glancing nervously from one lady of the night to another. He ignored the lad between them, whose interests seem to far outclass his age. "I'm afraid I'm in a bit of a spot right now. Surely you girls know what it's like to be on the wrong side of the law, eh?" Stevens immediately regretted his quip, but kept talking before they could respond, his ears turning red. "Could you girls perhaps, ah, help get me... well, us, I suppose. They'll probably assume you're aiding and abetting me in the act of treason, you know," he said, addressing the man and demon at either side of him. "So, I guess we're in this together! But, I say, you ladies, might you know of a way to help us out of this mess?"

[The Barbarian]

“Not good, not good…” Tyrael mumbled as he poked his head out slightly from around the wall of the alley. The guards were going down methodically from shop to shop and every nook and cranny between them. In a few short minutes they’d find the old man and the barbarian seriously doubted he could take on this many guards.

He looked to the back of the alley and saw that the end of it had a wall that was only about eleven or so feet tall. They could scale it no problem, but the old man might have a bit of a harder time. Turning to look back at the company they had found, he bit his lower lip as the lack of options. Whores were no good at fighting. Just getting too much money for something that should always be free. At least, that’s how Tyrael felt.

The warrior stepped carefully over them as he went back to examine the “exit strategy”. There were some heavy trashcans and large wooden boxes strewn about the corners of the alley. He could arrange them into a make-shift stairway to freedom for Leopold, but he’d need time to do it.

Perfect! He thought as his glowing eyes snapped to the prostitutes.

“Excuse me, ladies,” Tyrael said in his best mannered tone, “But could we borrow your help like the old man asked?”

One of them, the leader it seemed, looked at him about to say something that looked like it was going to be a resounding “no”. But Tyrael dug into his pockets quickly and produced ten shiny gold coins before her.

Her eyes went from a mother bear defensiveness to a foxy slyness. “Aye, now we’re talkin’ business.”

“Alright. And you there,” Tyrael said to the man in the shadows, “Mind giving me a hand with these boxes? I’d prefer if the old guy and that…guy…stood watch near the entrance while I did this.” The barbarian hadn’t gotten this far in his adventures by being oblivious to his surroundings. With or without his help, he began to grab one of the heavy trashcans and slide it over to the wall.

[Stargazer]

Artemis ignored the scene that the guard created while enforcing wanted flyers onto a man. Such things were doomed to happen as all soldiers, guards, and the like were dirt bags in his measure. As they hurried down an ally, the half-demon was hit by the smell almost like a physical blow. The goo that coated the pavements was only half dried even in the extreme irritating heat of the day. No doubt it would be a long, long day. And then the trio approached a shadowy area of the street. As they drew closer, Artemis relaxed in the sudden dimness. The color slowly returned to his eyes and allowed him to get a good look at his company.

So the taller guy does have blue eyes, he thought to himself, I’m getting good.

Taking a momentary pause to enter his presence, the half-demon felt the world of souls and shadows open up to him like a shade in front of his eyes being pulled open. Slowly, some of the more strong shadows began to curl around Artemis’ feet and up his knees. In a few moments they feebly had draped him up to his shoulders. It was still too light for them to become as strong as they could be. In the watery language of shadows, inaudible except to those who knew the language, they began to chatter to him about who was here and what had passed. It was a particularly talkative shadow that made him take another look at the enclave’s occupants.

A young looking male with black hair and a bunch of ladies who seemed to be a little more on the, how to put it, not conservative side. Snapping his head back over to the blue-eyed male, he noticed that the part human was arranging a stair case for Leopold to escape over the wall. Hold on. He couldn’t be buying the ladies’ services at a time like this. Had he missed something? The shadows quickly relayed the conversation he had missed to Artemis. No, the male was just buying their help in guard distraction. Clever, but not enough.

“Here let me get this.” Artemis said, as he hefted one of the heavier boxes into place. However, he had a better contribution to make.

Brushing some of his feathery black hair out of his long lashed eyes, he raised one finger as if beckoning to some invisible thing. In reality he was calling the shadows. He lent them some of his strength so they could come to him. With classic shadow silence, the enclave’s shadows were soon swirling around his feet. Then he began to whisper in shadow speech. He welcomed the feeling of water pouring out of his throat even if it did tire him. Will you help me, he asked, please? Shadows, he could respect. They had some noble quality that humans and some others didn’t posses. Knowing he could only lend his strength to the shadows for a small time, because it was not dark enough to use his full power, he motioned for the ladies to do their work.

Driven by the joy of a new bundle of coins, they happily ran over to the guards. Please let them do their job well, he asked before releasing the pull that had brought the shadows. With a stretched elastic like energy, they exploded outward around everyone before heading back to where they should be; they totally blacked out the enclave. With his arms, he gently herded his three companions towards the makeshift stair case. Even if he could see perfectly well, they probably couldn’t. He stayed behind so he would go up last. He was more capable of hiding then the other three.

[Letho]

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