The Escape from Dour (Closed)

[Ioder_Horvat]

“You’ll never get away with this,” a raspy voice echoed from the corner dresser of Knight-Captain Garret’s chambers. It sounded like whoever spoke had gargled mouthfuls upon mouthfuls of sand, like they were dying. The inside of his chambers was dressed in the most luxurious of silks and linens, on his wall hung the stuffed heads of the mightiest beasts of Corone. Sir Garret was what you might call lavish, he wore only the most expensive armor and gem stone his garrison could afford, he was a spoiled brat to say the least. “Someone will come for me…”

“Shut up!” Sir Garret yelled as he heaved a heavy golden goblet across his room. It made a loud clanging sound as it ricocheted off the doors of his dresser, spilling crimson red wine all over stained yew furniture. “No one is coming for you and if they did how would they even know what’s going on here.”

The Knight-Captain was right about one thing, the circumstances of the situation were… unorthodox to say the least. For the last month or so Ioder had been the prisoner of the Dour Saints, group of Knights commissioned by Radasanth to govern Dour Garrison. Ioder and his partner were caught in the cross fire of a raid carried out by the Dour Saints and had since been their captive. But there was a chance, just before his freedom had been taken from him the Half-elf managed to leave behind a note etched in parchment. It offered anyone insurmountable amounts of gold upon his liberation. But that was a long shot, and since then much had happened.

It wasn’t going to be that easy.

“You’ve gravely underestimated what I’m capable of…” Ioder managed to say, every word seemed like it would be his last. “In the end, I promise to return your politeness to you tenfold.”

“If I hear another word out of you demon ill shove a hot poker down your throat just like last time.” He said as he threw a goldenrod platter at his dresser.

Elsewhere on the property the plan had seeming been going well as Solomon escorted the fake prisoner to the holding cells. They had to travel through the main courtyard avoiding any suspicious eyes as they did. It couldn’t be helped and often Soloman had to head Phyr’s instructions clobbering him a little to detour the passing guards. As the pair made it to the cells they could see that other than a few roaming guards the place was largely without patrol giving them slight relief.

“Alright, this is what I’ve paid you for, you’re the lead from here on out.” Soloman said as he pulled a large butchers knife from inside his jacket.