Dead Man's Daughter II

The capital city of the of Rynmere, here is seated the only King in Idalos.

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Zane
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Dead Man's Daughter II

Wed Jan 31, 2018 7:10 pm

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82nd of Zi'da, arc 717
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The keys, the prison doors, the guards, his sword, everything was lining up perfectly. Zane could see his mission, and how to accomplish it. It was clear before his eyes. He was like an eagle, spotting a snake in the grass, ready to dive in and snatch it in his talons. He was stalling, it was obvious. It was like this each time before he committed an act against the law. Each time he broke a rule. He wasn't afraid of the consequences though, he was never afraid. He was just...sceptical. Who wouldn't be sceptical while trying to break out a mage out of a prison in an anti-magic country? How did he end up there, in that position, a lowly airman busting out a mage and going against everything he was supposed to be doing? Well, it was rather simple, if one viewed it from the correct perspective. Zane valued death, and the last wish of a man, and the last wish of one particular man he met earlier in the season was for his daughter to be safe and sound. Accidentally, that daughter had the same name as this imprisoned mage, as well as being of the same description. And of course, keeping a promise to a dead man was more important than abiding by the rules set by the kings and queens of the past. Or rather, of the present, since this anti-magic attitude was rather new to the kingdom.

Finally, after what seemed like breaks, the boy reached the keys which hung on the eastern wall, not to be mistaken with the southern, or south-eastern walls. He was stalling again, delaying his actions with his thoughts, so that everything stopped and he got another chance to change his mind. He wasn't going to change his mind, he knew that, for he wasn't truly afraid, he just had a touch of anxiety in his being. Which teenager didn't? And after several more trills of procrastinating and doubting himself, he picked up the keys to the relatively quiet sound of metal crashing against other metal, and turned around on his heel, moving for the door. Both of the inhabitants of the prison cell seemed ecstatic at the idea of being released, the fat man so he could get away from the witch, and the witch so she could get away from her death. Any moment now, there would be a loud voice behind the boy, asking about what exactly he was planning to do. The other guards would notice, from outside the dungeon, and they would yell out to him to stop him from making such a mistake.

Why the fek was he so anxious and uncertain? He asked himself and immediately sped up, reaching the door within a trill. Zane Black wasn't full of uncertainty, nor anxiety, he was focused, ready and able, and he would follow his ideals to the grave. He was so sure of himself as he opened the door of the cell, almost as if the moments of anxiety never existed.

"Sarah Dj'pyrj, we're leaving." He said with confidence lining his throat, as he looked towards the woman and offered her a hand. She followed him, and immediately after her, came the fatter, older, more male man. George the Black-eye, he was called. Not that it mattered, since Zane shut the door right after the woman was outside, probably smashing the man's nose in. He drew his sword from his hip. Ironic, the sword of the Iron Hand was just about to help an anti-Iron Hand act. If only swords had wills of their own, no criminal would walk free. Thankfully, some criminals deserved to walk free, and it was thus good that swords did not have wills of their own. If Zane remembered right, there would be two guards right outside, but if lady luck would will it, they wouldn't be paying much attention. Who would expect a prison break-out from the inside, after all? He didn't want to murder people, but if he had to, he would rather murder them quickly.
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Dead Man's Daughter II

Fri Feb 09, 2018 7:36 pm

82 Zi'da 717
"When're those Order dogs gettin' here, Ser Renot?" The towheaded Knight grumbled, shifting on his feet to the sound of steel sliding across steel, one hand loosening its grip on the spear he held with a sigh, "I don' like havin' that girl in here. Gives me the sardin' creeps, knowing she could do anythin' she wanted with us."

"Trust in the lumbering process of justice, Ser Rhob. Clearly she's not that dangerous, else they wouldn't have left her here with us in the first place." Renot answered with a wry but weary smile, the older man with dark hair in curls peeking out from under his helmet tilting his chin toward the door at the end hallway from where they stood, "I'm sure that the Swords will be here to escort her shortly."

"Well, they fuckin' better be. What if she—" Rhob blinked, "—what was that?"

There were the faint hints of voices down the hall behind the door as if someone was coming, or several someones, and that noise grew louder just as Zane slid open the jail cell and Sarah took his hand. She was a quiet thing, a few bruises on her wrist visible once she stepped toward the torchlight. Disheveled and tired, it was clear she'd spent plenty of time crying. She eyed the young man freeing her warily, as if somewhat unsure, hesitating for a moment until George began to barrel forward. Then, quickly, she slipped through the door and stepped behind Zane just in time for him to slam the door shut.

The noise startled the guards, both of who began to scramble to turn and meet Zane with their weapons. Ser Renot had a blade drawn and Ser Rhob had his spear, both of them in their well-burnished breastplates and helmets over their tabards and chain mail. They had not suspected their younger compatriot to be breaking anyone out of the cell, and so when Rhob's eyes turned on Sarah, panic spread over his features,

"Traitor!" Ser Renot hissed, "Stop where you are in the name of the Crown. I won't hesitate to—"

The door behind them at the end of the hall opened with a whine, swung wide with force as a handful of hooded figures spilled in to the room, one of them dropping the bloodied body of a man in the cloak of the Order of the Mantis, its ashen color stained and torn. The Swords had come, but been murdered on the way. The three faceless figures didn't hesitate even as the guards did, two of them immediately charging the now thoroughly confused guards without waiting to give Zane a chance to act. The third, however, was suddenly in the young man's face, the hooded, masked figure slighter and shorter than him with dark eyes that narrowed once the attacker realized the other man was helping Sarah, not harming her,

"This way. Quickly. Sarah, let's go." Zane would see the hooded figure held a dagger, raising it in his direction, "Come with us, or die with them—"

Ser Renot had left one of the hooded trio bleeding and dying on the cobblestones of the dungeon, turning and shouldering the stranger addressing Zane so that the shorter man hit the wall. He glared at Zane as he drew his sword back slowly, preparing to pommel the assailant he had trapped between his armor and the stone into oblivion,

"Stand down! You're all under arrest!" The Knight shouted wildly as if he hoped there were reinforcements down the hall to hear him even though he was quite aware the interlopers had probably taken care of them, too, leaving himself open for the young man to attack in his moment of authoritative shouting.

The third hooded figure was still engaged with Ser Rhob and Sarah cowered back, apparently far too frightened to let loose her powers here in the narrow space. The slight figure who'd invited Zane to join their escape hissed and attempted to twist his body, hoping to find a weak spot to shove his dagger into before Ser Renot bashed his skull in.
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Go on. Jump on in. You can pick your side, but the hooded folks are here for Sarah and will fight you, too.
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Zane
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Dead Man's Daughter II

Fri Feb 09, 2018 10:07 pm

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What was fair? What was just? In a time like this, the truth was written by the survivors of the great wars, so Zane wasn't inherently doing the wrong thing. Sure, from a certain perspective, his attitude and actions seemed evil, but then from another, still completely valid perspective, he was a hero, saving a poor woman from an early, undeserved grave. The morals of a country and its people differed often throughout history, and it was at those times when many a citizen chose a path different than their ruler that change happened. The King could win, sure, and magic would be forever remembered as a force of evil in these times, practised by men of no morals and no respect, but Zane thought it extremely unlikely. What he believed would happen was something entirely different. The mages would win, in what fashion, he did not know. Perhaps the king would be beheaded publicly, perhaps he would be assassinated in his sleep. Who knew? And yet, whatever the truth was, whatever it happened to turn out to be, the boy didn't care. He wasn't doing what he was doing to ride on the coattails of greater men and to turn into a purposefully accidental hero who would forever be remembered. He was doing what he was doing because of the promise he made, and the man that did not keep his promises, whether a hero or a villain, did not deserve to live on this world. In the name of the Crown, the knight said, carelessly throwing around words in a manner that he was taught to do, without actually knowing what he was doing. A hundred, no, ten arcs ago, the crown would've selflessly opposed the brutal murders of people just based on their hobbies, and who knew what the crown would do in ten arcs from now. If Zane was to stop, he would stop in the name of friendship and companionship, but neither of those were invoked, so he would go on without a care. He wasn't worried he'd die, not in the least bit, he was more worried Sarah would die, if he was being honest, for if she died, his promise would've been broken.

Alas, before he got a chance to draw the sword he was so incapable with, three hooded figures entered the prison, and Zane chuckled as the body of the mage-hunter fell to the ground. It was funny to him, how lucky he got sometimes. How destiny and the Immortals made life play to their tunes. How the biggest of empires fell before the tiniest of men. As soon as the fight started, the young man knew what was going on. They were there for her. Still, Zane did not move as the smaller figure approached him, not even as the hooded man lifted a dagger in his direction. Zane was never in a true battle to the death before, and hell, he wasn't even sure this was it. He still thought of this battle as a prank the fates pulled on him. Then, Ser Renot charged into the what the boy thought was a younger man in a cloak, ready to end him rightly with a pommel. Without hesitation, the airman drew his sword and swung it in one motion, barely keeping a smile from manifesting on his lips due to the words spoken by the knight. Under arrest? What foolish last words. The sword wasn't aimed at the man's hand, no, as goofy and careless as Zane was, he knew when seriousness was required, thus he aimed for the back of the man's neck, right between his helmet and chest piece. He wasn't afraid of taking a life, not even in a foul way such as this one. Honour, justice, those things didn't matter when it came to life and death. The boy was easy-going, relaxed and free in his ordinary life, but that did not mean he didn't know the harshness of the world. He knew the terrible deeds required to be performed for something to be achieved. There wasn't a single drop of sweat on his forehead as he attempted to almost behead the knight, instead there was a determined look of confidence in his dark eyes.

If he was successful in eliminating the guard, Zane would simply move forward, towards the exit, looking behind him and attempting to signal the woman to follow him. He paid no mind to the hooded figures, they weren't who he promised to help, and for all he knew, they would kill him just for wearing the emblem of the Iron Hand. He might have had a decent heart and a clean soul, but when death shows its face, one does not play nice, one plays dirty.
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Dead Man's Daughter II

Fri Feb 16, 2018 9:35 pm

82 Zi'da 717
Zane swung into the melee between Ser Renot and the hooded man, determination overpowering his inexperience. The slice of his blade landed between the Knight's shoulder and the high guard of his chest plate, cutting through flesh and digging into the man's collarbone instead of decapitating him, for the younger man's aim wasn't quite as true. The Knight still gurgled in pain, twisting to get away, the blow not mortal but grieve none the less.

The hooded man he'd been attacking took that moment of distraction to shove a dagger between the ties of the knight's chest plate, making sure to twist it good and hard up under his ribs. Whether he'd killed the man or not mattered little, for Ser Renot dropped immediately and the attacker's dark eyes met Zane's for a moment, brandishing another dagger as if he was prepared to fight the young man.

"C'mon, Yarrin, let's go." Sarah's hand curled into the hooded man's arm and her eyes flicked to Zane as well, their shifting colors revealing a mix of emotions. There was a brief moment of tension, and in that heartbeat, the young man felt an overwhelming surge of compulsion, "Come with us." Sarah whispered, begging him, too, "Take him with us. He can't stay here."

"Don't say my name, dammit." Yarrin hissed then, his surviving companion making his way to the door.

"Let's get going. The whole garrison will be on our arses soon enough."

"Come with us." Sarah repeated, this time her gaze intense. Zane felt confident this was a good idea, one that he was going to follow through on, anyway, given he'd been there to set her free. There was something about her invitation, however, that simply made that decision feel even better and made the dangers of the hooded figures much more minimal.

Yarrin growled, "Fine. C'mon."

Turning and leading the way out of the room. The strange group found themselves in a hallway, dungeons of Low Town a mix of floors and rows of cells. This particular section was full of isolated rooms on the top floor, mostly for overnight stays of derelicts picked up off the street or for temporary holding while some prisoner or another was processed. It was an easy out into the confusing, dark streets of Low Town if they could make it out, but the sounds of guards thundering down the hall to their left let the group know their safety was tenuous at best.

Yarrin took Sarah by the wrist and turned to the right, his words revealing that however they'd planned things, they hadn't planned for what was happening right now, "We just need to find another way."

"He's a soldier, maybe he knows—" The young woman hissed, even as the lot of them began to carefully but quickly make their way down the hall.

The other hooded figure hissed, turning to listen behind them, "You three go. I will provide a distraction."

"No. We leave together."

"We're here for Sarah. Go." The man growled, ignoring the pleas of his companions and charging down the hall the opposite direction, willing to hold the coming soldiers off for a few extra bits.

"This way." Yarrin didn't even look back over his shoulder, grip tightening on his dagger and heading further toward the main hall of the dungeons, "Purifiers will be here soon, lets hope they don't bring higher ranks with them. We just need to get to the streets."

The jail wasn't laid out in a confusing manner, simple in design and function. It was meant to keep people in, not spit people back out again, if ever. There were few exits, fewer windows, and more guards. Thankfully, when the hooded rescuers had made their way into the jail, they'd taken out a few of those guards, leaving their bodies strewn in the main hall, some of them still groaning and dying.

Stepping over them, they made their way to the tantalizing promise of the doors, the sounds from the hallway they'd just fled growing louder with shouting and the giving of orders. The coming pursers had made short work of the third hooded man, leaving Yarrin and Sarah and Zane.

Sarah stepped to the door, leaving Yarrin to stand ready in case of attack, and opened it slowly, peeking out,

"It's clear." She whispered, "As far as I can see. Hurry."
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