No Justice for the Wicked

[Kamar Deythal]

Kamar took a step back for every step Berne took towards his cell. He hit the wall at the back of his cell and slid down it, remaining in a crouch, looking like a cornered animal.

Kamar saw the disdain and suspicion on Berne's face, and it took all of his self control not to show the battlemage what real fear was. He watched as Berne removed his weapons from the cell.

The uttered threat was almost laughable, the typical bad guy trying to prove his superiority to the prisoner. Kamar knew nothing like that would come to pass, and knew that all he had to do was show respect and fear towards Berne and nothing would come to pass immediately. He wasn't like Wolfhound, challenging everything that moved. Kamar knew patience, and would bide his time.

He remained crouched against the wall, looking at Berne with fear in his eyes. Once everything had quieted down, and all the guards but the ones that would attempt to keep him prisoner were gone, he would make his move. Until then, there wasn't a thing that would make him give up his act.

[Chrishton Radu]

Chrishton listened to the whole ordeal with his eyes closed. He kept the back of his head rested against the cold, hard floor, lacking the energy or any strong desire to actually see the goings on. It hurt to move and the details were inconsequential. The male battlemage was taunting the prisoner, the guard was going to die, Ryxa was doing nothing, and the other inmate was finished sobbing.

All he wanted was for the guards to leave so he could have some time alone to think and to talk to the new guests. The pain constantly nagged at him along his arms, down his legs, and especially his feet and hands. It wouldn't go away.

* * *

The healer worked quickly. His quick hands had done the motions a hundred times before. Youth gave him sharpness, and it was as if he was bred for the job. He bloodied his hands right away examining the man's neck to see what damage there was while the guard's breathing gurgled and spattered blood from the hole. The healer's robes were a pink mess in no time.

He didn't speak or look at Ryxa. Well trained respect and fear taught him better than to address a battlemage unless he was asked a direct question. The expression on his soft featured face revealed some inner worry when he looked at the man, his eyes darting from the wound to a small pouch he carried at his side, and back.

No normal healer could save him now. His lungs were filled with blood, which was all over the floor and their surroundings. It was a miracle, or a curse, that he was conscious at all to endure the suffering... But he was, and he fought hard to cling to life. He started to shake, but stopped immediately when the healer put a hand on his arm.

The healer took some bandages from the bag and hastily started wrapping up the wounded neck. It was a dozen wraps before he was finished, but once he had chosen a course of action, he worked with fervor and certainty. With the man's neck completely covered, he drew something else from the pouch, something small that he kept hidden in his hand. By this point the guard was completely still, an unnatural calm having overtaken him so that he almost slept, but when the healer's hand touched his stomach he threw his back in a convulsive fit and blood few out of his mouth, blown out in a single, powerful cough. The healer's other hand, the empty one, pressed against the bandaged neck, perhaps only to hold the man down.

Then the guard was breathing, shallow but clear at first, then stronger as he came out of whatever daze he was in. He started coughing, this time a normal cough that had buried within it his deep, barrel chested voice. The healer withdrew, a total mess of blood, even on his face. Humble and silent as ever, though with a glimmer of pride in his eyes, he put the small stone from his hand back into his pouch and prepared to leave.

The guard groaned and started to get up. He looked relatively fine. Chrishton, having looked to see what was making the strange sounds, turned his head back to the ceiling and closed his eyes again.

[Blood Ravenous]

Ryxa watched like a hawk as the healer worked. He was hiding something in his hand, which he placed on the wounded one's stomach. Suddenly blood flew out of the guard's mouth and Ryxa reacted by falling back, very startled. She managed to stay out of the path of the blood, which was good because she didn't need any more on her.

As she watched the healer's proud face and the recovering guard, her eyes widened as if that could help them to see better. Whatever the healer held was again put back in its pouch, so she didn't get a look at it. She suspected that it had something to do with the guardman's amazing recovery and was immensely curious.

The battlemage stood and fixed the healer with an intimidating stare. "Healer, what is in that pouch?"

[Chrishton Radu]

The healer made eye contact for the first time with Ryxa when she addressed him. His own were faded, pale blue. Intelligent and quick, but somehow lacking strength.

Her question bewildered him. He was only a healer, and many of them worked in the same way. Those who worked for the judges and the battlemages were all carefully selected, indoctrinated and trained for years. He was still new, but his skills rivaled the best human healers on Pal Tahrenor.

He looked at the pouch, wondering about her sudden interest. There was an immediate apprehension on his part. If she was accusing him of being a spy, he didn't know what he would do.

"Just supplies. Salve, bandages, anesthetics... Um." With one hand he wiped some blood off his forehead while the other held the bag open so both of them could see the contents. His voice shook. "My knife... Alcohol... Darleone stones..."

The last one was what he used on the guard. An elemental stone from Darleone island infused with magic of elven origins. Heat stones, cold stones, and wind stones were usually used for healing. His proficiency with the wind stone was a testament to Thar Shaddin's elven ties.

"Nothing else, I swear it."

He hoped that was enough for her, and looked eager to get going.

[Blood Ravenous]

"Darleone stone... Hmm, yes," she said, half-mumbling to herself. She had heard of them, especially since she had been semi-taught by magically talented people. She really had no idea they could do such an amazing feat, however, and stored that in her memory of things to find out about in more detail.

Ryxa realized that the healer was afraid of her, and felt powerful. She could do practically anything she wanted to him. Just to have the option lightened her mood and she felt no need to mess with him further. She looked away from him to study the room quickly. She was confident the prisoners couldn't escape whether or not she was there. It was then she decided to visit Judge Moryldar's office and see what the Captain had to say about the newest prisoners. She could also make a report of the occurrences here.

She pivoted on her heel and went through the door not far from where they were. Her footsteps echoed back into the hall as she walked to the Judge and Captain.

[Chrishton Radu]

The healer was quick to leave as soon as he got the impression it was permitted. He strode down the hallway just ahead of Ryxa and climbed the stairs to get back to his quarters and find some peace in solitude. On their way they passed the other guardsman, who shoved his way past the healer with complete lack of respect. He wanted to see his comrade, not them.

The guard with the bandages around his neck stood up, rubbing the gauze and looking like a man who was still coming to his senses. His buddy was at his side in a second and helped him get to his feet while patting him down to see if anything was missing or still bleeding.

"Justice healers..." said the injured one with a sly grin. He had cheated death, and would live to risk it all another day... Something not uncommon for a guardsman. They were used to owing their lives to good healers, and the Justice Hall had some of the best in the world.

He got a slap on the back of his armor and that was it. It was the only reward he needed, the greatest payback their job had to offer. Brotherhood, and the chance to brag about events later.

"Lets get out of here. Let them kill the freak later."

They glanced at wolfhound's cell before leaving, but dared not stay down where they were alone, without an escort like Ryxa or Berne. They were gone, and with them the last overseers of the prison cells. As their footsteps trailed away up the stairs, it became obvious that the prisoners were alone.

Chrishton let out a sigh and muttered to himself about peace and quiet. The sigh brought with it the urge to cough, which he indulged in, followed by a groan.

[Kamar Deythal]

Everyone had left.

Kamar closed his eyes and laid his head back against the wall, remaining seated where he was. His head was throbbing from crashing into the building when Lucas had used his magic to command him to stop. His dislocated and kicked back into place shoulder also throbbed. The glancing blow from Wolfhound's thrown dagger the night before throbbed.

Nothing was going the way he thought it would. It was incongruous how many things could go wrong. It was as if everyone in town was trying to look after Lanya. He had requested help from the local authorities, and the bastard Captain brings a battlemage.

Kamar's brow furrowed. His head hurt, and he was tired. However, he had no intention of spending a night in a jail, no matter what kind, and how hard it was to get out of.

He waited several minutes, to make sure that no one would come back. He used the time to meditate, calming himself and pushing the pain back to a point where he could stand it.

Finally, Kamar shifted, moving a hand to the back of his slippered foot and pulling a pair of lockpicks from a sealed flap along the side. He stood slowly, suppressing a groan as he used his left arm to push up. He moved towards the bars, slippered feet making almost no sound on the floor. Slipping a slender wrist through the bars, he began working on the lock.

At the same time, he looked to the person across the jail from him. "Chrishton..." he whispered, keeping his voice just above hearing level.

[Chrishton Radu]

The silence was good. Unlike Kamar, Chrishton was in no hurry to leave. He found the jail to be most relaxing, and given the alternatives he was quite happy to lie perfectly still and maybe get some sleep.

Perhaps Moryldar would take tomorrow off and let Chrishton heal from his torture session. From all the bleeding and painful wounds, Chris could only conclude that the session was long and intense. It was hard to tell how spaced apart his fragmented, though vivid, memories were. There was a pick, and a saw, and more than one kind of hammer. His fingers on one hand were all broken in more than one place, neatly done in by a contraption that looked like it was for cracking nuts. The worst was the hook though. He remembered how it could dig into places and find nerves that should have been protected by bone.

He idly amused himself with the unexpected side benefit of having the fox spirits out of his head for so long. True privacy was something to cherish and was something that, for the last few years, only ever lasted a few hours. Few hours which were always spent trying to figure out why the spirits were missing and what kind of impending doom was surely on the horizon.

Not this time. No... This time he could just lie back, relax, and think about whatever he wanted. No little cretins floating around making pains of themselves. No fox spirits to argue with each other, laugh at his mistakes, or worry him with news of upcoming events. Nobody around to anger him by talking in circles or constantly saying his name to get his attention. Chrishton, Chrishton...

"Chrishton..."

He snapped out of his daze and looked between the bars for whoever was saying his name.

It was one of the new inmates, presumably his latest ally, and he was... Picking the lock on his cell. What a hopeless cause. The cell wasn't the problem.

Despite the fact that this guy was his best chance to escape, Chrishton couldn't help being annoyed by the disturbance. Was there no bloody peace? And how did this guy know his name?

"What?" Was all he bothered to blurt out.

[Kamar Deythal]

Kamar kept his gaze locked on Chrishton even as he continued working on the lock to his cell. When Chrishton looked at him, Kamar paused, smiling slightly when his surmise of who was across from him was proved correct. As they stared each other down for a moment, Kamar could almost read the question in Chrishton's eyes.

"What?"

Kamar shrugged, finally continuing on with picking the lock of his cell with such calm efficiency that it would almost seem he was used to finding himself in such situations.

"I thought I recognized your face under the blood. The guards have a poster up with your name and an incredible likeness of your face on it. I must say I am surprised to find you in here..." Kamar lifted his left hand from what he was doing to indicate Chrishton and his surroundings. "... Especially in such bad shape."

Kamar lifted an eyebrow in question, his hand returning to picking the lock. He gauged he almost had it figured out, and would have it open in a few short moments.

[Chrishton Radu]

Chrishton had friendly eyes, even through all the pain and blood, and past his crude words and demeanor. They were the only thing about him that looked friendly. His grimace certainly didn't, and he watched with half hearted interest while his neighbor fidgeted with the lock.

Of course, the poster gave him away. Those stupid wanted ads were the most effective move the city had made toward capturing him. Far more effective than their mages, assassins and patrols. He wasn't sure if he trusted the neighbor yet, so he kept from explaining himself in much detail... Though it was impossible to resist defending his current situation.

"Well ta be honest I got sick a hidin'. Fuckin mages couldna found their own asses without a map."

Chris never learned to pick locks. It was the sort of thing he would never be good at. Too finicky and complicated. He was always convinced there were always easier methods, and fortunately for him, there were.

"Ain't gonna get ya nowhere buddy. Ya think they just forgot ta post a guard? Place is a magical fortress. Ain't nothin' gets in or out."

[Kamar Deythal]

Kamar listened to Chrishton, taking his time with the lock.

"Battlemages may not be able to find their asses without a map, but when you walk up to them and try to use them, they really don't appreciate that." Kamar winked at Chrishton in an off-handed way. "They also don't like it when you stab them."

He glanced down at the lock, which never really helped when picking a lock, since the mechanism was usually deep inside where it couldn't be seen. Picking locks was done mostly by feel, and Kamar's slender hands were ripe with the deftness and finesse required to slip the mechanism free. He was taking his time, knowing full well he could have it open at a moment's notice if he cared to. He was too busy getting information.

Kamar smiled back at Chrishton, a genuine smile which was surprisingly kind for one of his profession. "There may be no way out of this place, thought I doubt that, but I plan on at least having a look around while I'm here."

He cocked his head at Chrishton as he continued working on the lock. "What do you mean, it's a 'magical fortress'? No way for magic to get in and out? Once inside, prisoners are unable to leave? Please, since I seem to have the time, explain it to me." Kamar smirked. "You speak like you have been here before."

[Chrishton Radu]

He dropped his head back down as Kamar spoke. His attention was a scarce commodity. Thick dark hair provided a cushion for his skull that almost made the floor comfortable, though the blood had started to soak into it, making it feel wet and unpleasant.

"No, ain't been here before." He said with a breathy sigh. "I just know, kin feel the barrier."

He decided that details about his spirit friends were best kept secret until he knew he could trust who he was talking to.

"Look around yerself, man. Them walls ain't normal. They dun post no guards, but these guys ain't stupid. They know 'bout lock-picks, they just dun care. Ya'll never make it out the front door an' that weird fuck they got guardin' it."

He didn't move at all when he spoke. His bare chest heaved with his breathing, but other than that he was as still as a log. He felt naked, but was far beyond caring.

"Ya must be new around here. I been here bit over a week an' lemme tell ya, these guys ain't small fish. They just try ta look unimportant."

[Laz]

Wolfhound came to slowly, a pounding in his skull combined with his drowsyness stopped him from being aware of his surroundings. He groaned with the effort of trying to sit himself upright, leaning against the bedpost and rubbing his head as he finally remembered where he was. As the world around him came back into focus he could hear the voices coming from the other cells, he growled as he heard the assassin, and still yet unsure about the other one. Only his wolfish instincts for survival kept him from yelling at the assassin to shadow shift over to his cell, in wolfhounds weakened state he would be an easy catch for someone like Kamar, instead, he contented himself to, "I'm still gunna kill you assassin"

[Kamar Deythal]

Kamar offered another smile and a shrug in response to Chrishton's comments about the likelihood of getting out of the Justice Hall.

"I can't feel the barrier, like you say you can, but I can tell this isn't any ordinary jail. They are supremely confident that they can keep us here. However," a mischievous grin crossed his face, "I am still going to take a look around while I'm here."

Kamar fiddled with the lock some more, hooking the catch with his pick, then unhooking it without unlocking the door. This in itself took skill and talent, since once the catch was hooked by the pick, it was harder to get the pick off than it was to get it on.

He paused in his fiddling as something Chrishton said caught his attention. "Things in this place aren't always what they seem to be, are they Chrishton?" Kamar was baiting Chris a bit, but continued on. "Perhaps two people with a similar reason to leave the confining boundaries of such a place as this," he lifted one hand to again indicate their place of confinement, "would be more successful in escaping where one alone would find it impossible."

He lifted a brow at Chrishton, his hands going back to their work. Suddenly, a growling voice spoke from the cell next to him.

"I'm still gunna kill you assassin"

Kamar huffed a put-upon sigh at the words, wondering idly to himself if Wolfhound's childish threats would ever end. With a shrug and a roll of his eyes towards Chrishton, Kamar finally tripped the lock mechanism and slipped out of his cell. He left the door unlocked as he closed it, in case he decided it would be more prudent to be in the cell.

Poking his head around the side of the cell to look in on Wolfhound, Kamar gave a vicious, evil grin. "Perhaps it would be smarter to keep from antagonizing people when you are caged, yes, Wolf boy?"

His head vanished as he strode towards the spot Berne had deposited his weapons.

[Chrishton Radu]

Chrishton wasn't sure what to make of his new guest yet. Normally he could read people after only a few words and come to a decision, but he had conflicting messages when it came to this guy. He seemed alright, but that was only the surface. Without his spirit friends, Chrishton had nobody to ask, no way to tell. He was back to his old ways. He had to figure it out the hard way. Either that or escape.

The guy could be a spy, put there to get information from Chrishton without the use of torture. It was well within the realm of possibility, and something the battlemages would try.

But then again, he had to escape sometime. Being paranoid about everyone wasn't going to get him out of Justice Hall. The presumably lupine man in the third cell didn't seem to like him, but that wasn't making a big impression.

"Yeah, I'kn get ya out."

He didn't even move from his position - just stared at the ceiling like he was waiting for Kamar to come to him. In truth he was working out a means of escape based on what he knew of the layout so far.

"If ya'kn take a hostage. Moryldar would be nice. Take him, and I'kn get the door open."